by Joan Davis
“Aunt Risa?” a little sleepy voice asked uncertainly.
Risa popped up and smiled. “There is my sleepy girl. Come give me a hug,” Risa said holding her arms out wide.
Honor glanced over and saw a little girl with dark brown hair and light green eyes. In her arms was a doll that was just about as big as she was. Its hair was roughly the same color as the little girl’s, and it was dressed in a frilly dress and black Maryjane’s. Even with the cumbersome doll Lela ran over and threw herself into Risa’s arms. Risa sat back down and adjusted the doll into sitting position next to her on the couch and pulled the little girl onto her lap. She lay back against Risa in a clearly trusting manner. Oh crap, please don’t start crying, kid, Honor thought tensely. It wasn’t unheard of that some kids were a little freaked when they saw the tattoo for the first time.
“Did you have a good night sleep? You were up sort of late.” Risa said softly, combing back the little girl’s hair with her fingers. The little girl just nodded against Risa’s chest and stared at Honor intently. Risa pointed to Honor and said, “This is my friend Honor. Honor this is my friend Lela. She’s hanging out with me for a few days while her uncle is out of town.”
Having grown up with dozens of other foster kids, Honor just remained where she was and said, “It’s good to meet you, Lela.”
“It’s good to meet you, Honor,” Lela mumbled the same words over the finger she had in her mouth.
“Why don’t I go and fix you some oatmeal with sugar and cinnamon and you sit here and talk to Honor for a few minutes? Is that okay with you?” Risa asked and got another silent nod. Risa set Lela on the couch, stood up and said, “I’ll be just a minute.” She eyed Honor and Honor nodded okay to her as Risa went into the kitchen.
“That’s pretty make-up on your face,” Lela said shyly as she squirmed into the corner of the couch.
“Thank you, but it’s not make-up, it’s a tattoo,” Honor said.
Lela seemed to think about this and then her eyes got really big. “You mean like the kind of ones that Uncle Jose and Uncle Chris wear, the ones that don’t come off?” she asked in amazement.
Figuring Lela was probably referring to Jose Rojas, with his arms and bald head filled with tattoos, Honor said, “Yes, it doesn’t come off.” Honor put her finger over a bit of the tattoo above her right brow and rubbed it a few times and showed Lela her unmarked fingertip. “See, it’s on there for good,” Honor smiled, shrugging.
Lela nodded and then asked curiously, “Did it hurt when you got it?”
“I was asleep so I don’t remember,” Honor said knowing a simple answer was the best for a kid.
“Did your mom and dad get mad at you for getting it?” Lela asked with an odd look on her face.
“No, my parents died when I was very young, Lela, so I stayed with a nice lady until I was an adult. She didn’t get angry with me about the tattoo,” Honor said smiling gently.
“My parents are dead too,” Lela said looking down.
“I’m really sorry to hear that Lela. It sort of sucks not having parents, doesn’t it?” Honor asked and wrinkled her nose at Lela. “One good thing is that you still have lots of people who love you and care for you, right? Like your Aunt Risa and Uncle Sam. They are fun to hang out with I bet. That’s a pretty doll you have there. What’s her name?” Honor asked coaxingly.
Lela gave Honor a sweet smile and said, “Her name is Marisol. She belongs to Risa. She’s had her since she was real little. She lets me play with her when I come over. Risa says I’m her newest doll ‘cause I look sort of like Marisol,” Lela giggled a little as she pulled the doll closer.
“Wow, I didn’t notice before but you do sort of look alike. What else to you get to do here when you visit?”
“Risa lets me play in her studio and doesn’t mind if I use her stuff as long as I’m careful. It’s so cool. She’s teaching me to draw stuff and she draws pictures of me and my Uncle Gabriel so I can hang them up at home.”
Honor froze for a second before saying, “I bet your Uncle Gabriel likes that.”
Lela nodded and looked up as Risa brought in a tray and set it on the coffee table. “Okay, dig in, Lela. I brought some milk and orange juice too,” Risa said, and kissed Lela’s forehead as she began to eat.
Honor glanced down at her watch. “Wow, I better get back to work or Buck really will fire my . . . me,” she said mindful of Lela just in time to modify her language.
Risa nodded, walked Honor to the door and stepped outside with her. “Thanks for being so understanding with all Lela’s questions. I know it can be a pain,” Risa said smiling.
“She’s seems like a great kid. I’m sorry to hear about her parents. Her uncle is Gabriel Ryan?” Honor asked, unable to stop the question from coming out of her mouth.
Nodding, Risa said quietly, “He has been raising her since his sister’s murder a few years ago. Lela has been through a lot, so we try to make sure she feels safe and secure while she’s here.”
Honor nodded, feeling sad for Lela, and now more than a little conflicted about Gabriel. Very few people would take on a kid that wasn’t theirs to raise. She knew that better than most. “Thanks for not holding my feet to the fire earlier,” Honor said, trying to lighten the mood. “Man, I have got to get back to work.”
Laughing, Risa said, “No problem. Hey, we are having a Lake Party here this weekend. It’s sort of tentative depending on who wants to come. I would love it if you’d join us. It’s really casual, nothing grand, just lots of food, swimming, music and fun.”
Honor shook her head almost reluctantly. She liked the kinship she felt with Risa, but the thought of being on display for a bunch of people she didn’t know didn’t sound like a good time to her. “I don’t think so.”
Risa eyed her for a few seconds before saying, “I get the whole not wanting to put yourself out there stuff, believe me. But Samson’s family are the most accepting people I’ve ever met. They are sort of live and let live. Look, why not come by and if you feel uncomfortable you can leave. No harm done. At least, give it a try.”
Honor’s insides clenched, but Risa’s eyes were clear and honest and she couldn’t resist their entreaty. Nodding she said, “Sure, why not? Just let me know when. Do I bring anything? I don’t do a lot of this kind of thing.”
“Great, don’t worry about anything right now. I’ll let you know when everything is finalized. By the way, if Buck gives you any trouble, tell him I ask you to stay,” Risa said grinning widely before she walked back in house and closed the door.
Honor hopped into her truck and turned the key. As she pulled out and headed back to the construction site she allowed herself to think of Gabriel for the first time in months. It was getting harder to shut people out of her life, especially Gabriel. Honor knew cracks were forming in her defenses faster than she could stop them. It left her emotions exposed and raw. Thoughts of Gabriel were too hard to resist. Don’t do it, Honor. Don’t open that door, Honor thought. Look what you just did. You allowed some tiny lady and a little girl to break down your barriers, and already you’re asking for more emotional torment. Hold it together. You’re good at that. Don’t let them in; it will just hurt you in the end, Honor thought. She had a feeling she was going to fail.
*****
SAN FRANCISCO
Even in July, the nights in San Francisco, California were very cool. Gabriel put his hands in the pockets of his worn leather Bomber jacket and waited outside the restaurant. He had been going non-stop for the last few weeks. First plowing through the research Conner’s investigators had already compiled on the criminal activities of Maximus Dunn in the last three years. Every move Dunn had made, or rumor about him had been Gabriel’s obsession. He wanted that bastard brought down. It didn’t matter how. The possible connection to Honor caused Gabriel’s jaw to harden. He had to find out the truth. As he reviewed Conner’s background file, Gabriel had finally found the report on the addition of marking or tattooing victims of slave
trafficking. He had read back-stories and looked at several photographs of young girls and boys whose faces and bodies had been tattooed or branded to indicate ownership, or just as an enticement for the buyers.
Gabriel had then hired investigators to look into Honor’s past in Atlanta. He only had more questions after the investigators had reported their findings. At the age of thirteen, Honor Weston had disappeared. The last time anyone saw her was at a Rave party in an abandoned warehouse in Atlanta. Almost a month later she was found drugged and wandering around in a wealthy neighborhood of San Francisco, California. She had almost no memory of the time she was missing, and she couldn’t explain the extensive tattoo that now marked her eyes and the right side of her face. Her foster mother retrieved her from San Francisco, and as far as the investigators could tell, Honor had moved on with her life without further incident. No connection to Maximus Dunn was found.
The only other information on Honor matched what Gabriel already knew. She started working for Buck at the age of sixteen and learned the construction business from the ground up. She became proficient in the operation and maintenance of large equipment. That had led to jobs all over the United States, with one exception. She never took jobs in California. Her turning up in Dalton seemed legitimate. Buck O’Leary had made several attempts to hire her over the last two years, and she finally accepted and came to work for Knight Construction.
“Mr. Ryan, Gabriel Ryan?” A man with graying auburn hair, a ruddy complexion and a slight paunch came up to Gabriel with his hand extended at Gabriel’s nod.
“Detective Lane?” asked shaking the man’s hand.
“Yeah, Detective Joseph Lane to be exact, but just call me Lane. Everyone does.”
“Fine. Lane it is. Thanks for meeting me tonight,” Gabriel said, and led him into the restaurant where a waitress quickly seated them and took their drink orders.
“I admit I was a little thrown when Peter Hughes called me out of the blue about a case that is more than ten years old. Peter left the force and became a P.I. only two years after I became a detective, and we had lost touch. Anyway, you got lucky because Honor Weston’s case has stuck with me my whole career. Some cases do that, you know?”
Gabriel nodded in understanding. “I can understand that. I know Peter told you about my situation and what happened with Maximus Dunn.”
Lane nodded and eyed Gabriel. “Actually, I know a lot about you. I’m on the task force working on the Maximus Dunn case. You are the main reason Dunn is on the run. He hasn’t been able to stay put anywhere for very long. The FBI is on his tail and tightening the noose every day. I wanted to say I’m sorry your sister lost her life in all this, and I hope your niece, Lela, is doing okay. As for the Honor Weston case, I don’t know how much help I can be to you. Why are you looking into it?” the detective asked.
Seeing the speculation in Lane’s eyes, Gabriel gave him only enough information to get what he needed. “Because Dunn is still in the wind, I want to protect my family any way I can. In my research I ran across a few reports that Dunn used tattooing to mark the children he abducted before he sold them in the slave trade. I recently heard the story of what happened to Honor Weston, and I may want to contact her to see if she can give me any information about Maximus Dunn. Whatever background or history I can learn about Dunn can only help me,” Gabriel lied easily to the detective. The less the man knew about his relationship with Honor the better.
The detective stared at Gabriel a moment before pulling out a thick file folder from the large envelope he had been carrying when he showed up. “I can tell you right now that there is no connection between the two cases. Believe me, if I thought there was a connection, I would have already talked with her myself,” Lane said as he pulled out a pair of bifocals, put them on and started leafing through file. “Ah this is what I was looking for; I wanted to show you the before and after photos of Honor Weston.” He handed Gabriel photos.
Gabriel looked at the first photo and saw a young girl with thick brown hair, unusual amber eyes and a beautiful shy smile. She had pale skin, was rail thin and gangly, with a touch of sadness in her eyes. Sitting next to her was a beautiful, African-American woman wearing a colorful turban and a flowing afghan dress. Gabriel turned the picture over and read the back, ‘Me and my Honor on her 12th birthday.’
Lane said, “That’s Honor with her foster mother, Mama Leone. Her first name is Lillian, Lillian Leone. I had to look up Ms. Leone’s real first name since I’ve always called her Mama Leone. Like it says on the back of the picture, Honor was only twelve there. The second picture was taken in the hospital right before her release.”
Gabriel looked down at the picture and found the contrast disquieting. The girl in this picture was emotionless and withdrawn. Though the tattoo wove down the right side of her face, the biggest impact occurred in the ink that outlined her eyes. It accentuated their cat-like slant and at the same time giving them a sensual heaviness. He noted almost absently that the black ink of the tattoo had not faded very much from then until today. It was still sharp and clear.
As the tattoo continued from the right eye, it swirled and twisted in an exotic pattern up and over the young girl’s right eyebrow and meandered down the right side of Honor’s face. It accentuated her high cheek bones and jaw line. It left her looking mysterious, unattainable and very tempting. Frowning in discomfort, Gabriel asked, “How old was she in this picture?”
“She was 13. Can you believe that?” the detective asked. “I had a little girl the same age at the time, so this case really got to me. I used to just sit by my daughter’s bed, watching her sleep and thanking God that it wasn’t her in that hospital bed.”
It took everything inside Gabriel not to react to Lane’s answer. Thirteen years old- that was only five years older than his niece was now. She had been living with that mark for half her life. Gritting his teeth and trying to slow his breathing, Gabriel asked, “How was she able to get away from the people who took her?”
Rearing back in his seat Lane ran a hand over his face. “I guess it will be easier just to start at the beginning of this thing. Honor Weston was a foster kid from around age five or six, I think. The case worker in Atlanta said that Honor’s mother died of a drug overdose, and there was no father in the picture. They found some relatives, but no one wanted the responsibility, so Honor became another statistic in the system. From the time she became a ward of the state, until she was placed with Mama Leone five years later, Honor was pegged as a runner. She would be placed with a family and within days she would disappear, and then show up weeks later, hungry and dirty, and it would start all over again.”
“Apparently, Mama Leone was known to take hard cases, but from what the case worker said when I interviewed her, it was sort a fluke that Honor was placed with her. Mama Leone was one of the rare success stories of foster care. All the children she took in tended to become model citizens. Kids that were labeled incorrigible would suddenly do a complete 180 when they were placed with her. Kids that never went to school would begin attending school regularly. Homework, manners, grades, attitude, you name it and the kids that were placed with Mama Leone would start excelling at it. It was just a coincidence that a child had aged out of the system and left Mama Leon’s house just a day before Honor needed another place to stay.”
“Aged out?” Gabriel asked.
“Yeah, that’s when a child reaches 18 years of age and the state stops paying for their care. Most kids in the system find jobs and try their best to support themselves. It’s not always successful. Mama Leone made sure her kids were prepared for life on their own. Whether her kids went on to college or not, they tended to have lucrative employment by the time they aged out and had to leave her. Like I said, she was one of the few success stories of the foster care system.”
“So this Mama Leone became Honor’s guardian when Honor was around ten or eleven years old?” Gabriel clarified.
“Yeah, about that old. Anyway, the caseworke
r said it was a battle royal for the first year. Honor would run and Mama Leone would track her down on her own and yank her back home. I guess Honor figured out that Mama Leone wasn’t going to abandon her and she settled down. Just like the other kids living with Mama Leone, Honor became a great student, learned manners, the whole nine yards,” Lane explained.
“So how did Honor end up in San Francisco?” Gabriel asked.
The detective once again put on his glasses and pulled out a report of some kind. “I had to look back at my notes and reports for that. Apparently, Honor was a bit shy and was trying to fit in with some group of kids at school. These kids were not bad kids, but they were a bit wild. One night they dared Honor to sneak out and go to a Rave with them.”
“Rave, what is that? Some sort of party?” Gabriel questioned.
“In a way, a Rave usually occurs at an undisclosed location, say an abandoned warehouse or building. The promoters set it up like a dance club, big flashy lights, loud music, alcohol, the works. Then they start spreading the word that the Rave will take place at a certain place and time. It’s all by word of mouth, and it’s an unwritten rule that no one tells anyone in authority about it. That way the cops can’t shut it down. Sometimes as many as a thousand people show up, no bouncers, no security, no I.D. checks.”
“I see, so it would have been no problem for someone to take a kid without anyone trying to stop them,” Gabriel stated grimly. Honor had had no chance.
“Hell, Ryan, a lot of these Raves are specifically set up for just that reason. Then those damn flesh peddlers can just sit back and pick and choose who they want to take. It’s sickening, but it happens all over the country,” Lane said in disgust. “That’s how we suspect they took her.”
“Did the police in Atlanta have any leads to go on at all? What about the kids Honor went to the Rave with? Did they see anything?” Gabriel asked.
Snorting, Lane said, “By the time they interviewed those kids, Honor had already been in the hospital here in San Francisco for four days.”