by L. L. Akers
Dusty grabbed for a pen and paper. “No. Well, maybe. I’m not sure. I need that code. If there’s a problem, I’ll call you back. Can’t talk about it right now.”
Dusty scribbled down a four-digit number.
“Thanks, Gabby. Yeah…I’ll keep you in the loop. Soon as I know what’s going on.”
Dusty picked up Olivia’s phone and entered the security code. He listened. He played it again.
He laid the phone on his desk.
“Johnson!” he yelled.
An older officer came in.
Dusty handed him the two pieces of mail. “I need you to run this address. Give me the information on it. Call me. I’m ‘en route to it right now. Off the record. Just a look and see.”
He looked at Grayson and jerked his head to the door. “Let’s go.”
“What did the message say? Who was it?”
“It was one of yours.”
“What? One of my what?”
“One of your girls. The one you call Ember. She’s been picked. I think it’s a go.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Grayson shoved the man up against the wall, with his arm bent behind his back. “Where is she, asshole? Where’s Olivia?”
Dusty grabbed Grayson’s arm, trying to pull him back.
“Grayson! Ease up! Jesus man, I knew we should have waited for the team. You’re gonna land us in a pile of steaming shit.”
“No time to wait. He’s got Olivia! I know it.”
Grayson’s eyes were wide and a sheen of sweat covered his face. He knew he was too close to this case. Especially now. He’d probably lose his job over it. But he wasn’t losing Olivia.
Dusty and Grayson had made quick surveillance of the home, finding nothing suspicious. As Dusty turned around to walk back to the car, Grayson had run to the house and kicked the door in. Claiming his gut was telling him something was up.
“Dude! Ow! Stop! I’ll tell you everything I know. Let go of my arm,” the man screamed. His weasel-looking face was pushed up against the wall, covered mostly by a hoodie. A flashy set of boxers poked up over his baggy jeans. Just a kid. No more than twenty-five years old.
Grayson eased up and the kid started crying. He crumbled and slid down the wall, all the fight out of him.
“I don’t know where she is. I swear it.”
“It was your van at her apartment,” Grayson growled. Dusty pushed him back again.
“I wasn’t driving it. I wasn’t even there. They never let me go with them for the pickup. I’m strictly desk-jockey. She’s not here, dude. Look for yourself.”
Grayson tore through the dumpy house, leaving the kid under Dusty’s watchful eye. It didn’t take long. A bedroom, a bathroom and the living room/kitchen combo where they’d found the kid. The house held mostly computer and gaming equipment.
Grayson stalked back into the kitchen. “You’ve got ten minutes before the rest of the team gets here. I can do a shit-load of damage before then. What do you think, Dusty? Does he look like a runner to you?”
“A runner?” the man asked, looking from Grayson to Dusty with wide eyes.
“Yeah, looks like he ran to me,” Dusty answered. “Sorry you had to get so rough with him to take him down. Looks like his nose might be broke, too. That had to hurt.”
The kid didn’t have a scratch on him. Yet.
He vigorously shook his head and sobbed. “No! Gimme a chance, man! I’m talking…I never meant for Olivia to get involved in Taco Bell.”
“Yeah. About that…could you guys possibly have chosen a cheesier code name, by the way?” Dusty asked.
Grayson shot him a dirty look. “Go on.”
The kid continued, “I tried to warn her…I risked my job for her… but I don’t know where she is now. I’m just the Finder. It’s my job to talk to the girls, make friends and find them. But Olivia kept sticking her nose in.
She was helping the girls. I stumbled across her and we became friends…and…maybe more.”
Grayson scoffed. “Dream on, kid. Olivia wouldn’t have anything to do with you. I’m guessing you never met, other than online.”
“I wanted to. We almost did. But I… well, I was trying to talk her out of what she’s been doing—we don’t want no trouble with the locals. We would’ve moved on from here after this round anyway. So I tried to keep Olivia out of it. I tried to protect her. I did… but it took me awhile to build up a relationship and all. And he kept logging in and talking to her, too. He didn’t completely trust me. Monitored all my pm’s with the girls.”
He paused, seeing if he’d told them enough. Grayson tugged on his arm again, pulling it even higher behind his back. “Who is he? And where is Olivia now?”
“Ow! Shit! The Keeper, dude! And I don’t know where she is! I’m just the Finder! I did my job. I found the girls. But Ember kept pulling Olivia in. She called her today. They didn’t know how much Olivia knew now, so they picked her up long enough just to get Ember out of town. He promised me he’d let her go, though. Unhurt. Once Ember’s gone.”
“Who? Who’s going to let her go?” Grayson screamed at him, shoving the kid against the wall at the same time.
“I told you…the Keeper. That’s all I know about him. He doesn’t use his real name. He has Olivia…and Ember. He’s in charge.”
“Did you chat with Olivia tonight?”
“No, but if she got online, Keeper might’ve talked to her. We use the same avatar and logon… we share it for the groups. But he disguises his ip address. You won’t find him. I don’t even know where he stays; where he takes the girls before the pickup.”
Dusty snorted. “All we needed to know was which sites he used and his avatar. We can comb through Olivia’s groups. Now that we know who he is, he can’t hide from our computer guy; he’s the best in the business. We’ll find him.”
Two uniformed officers rushed through the front door.
“Cuff him. Read him his rights,” Dusty said.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Olivia grabbed her head with both hands. She had a terrible headache. She slowly sat up with her hands over her face.
Guess I was able to sleep after all, she thought.
She swung her feet off the bed onto the floor and jerked them up again. The floor was freezing. What the—?
She peered around. Her blood ran as cold as the floor. This wasn’t her room. It all came back to her then.
The man in the mask. The struggle on the ground. Then the van. He’d shoved a towel into her face. That was all she remembered.
She slowly stood and the room spun. She reached out to steady herself against the concrete wall—a basement wall. Cold. Dark. Dank. And no windows.
Ember! This is what Ember had been trying to tell her. Was she here?
She wobbled to the door. There was a square cut-out, with narrow, but strong iron bars. She looked through it, seeing an identical door across from her.
“Ember?” she whispered. “Are you in there?”
“Olivia? Are you okay?”
“I’m…” she looked down at herself. All her clothes were on. Except her shoes. They might’ve fallen off. She saw them piled on the floor. She was dirty—but intact. Other than her head, nothing seemed hurt. “I’m fine. Where are we?”
There was a long pause.
“I can’t tell you.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry I got you into this, Olivia. I shouldn’t have called you, but I had no one else.”
“No. It’s okay. I’ll get you out of here. Where are we?”
“It’s not okay. It’s too late for me. This bastard’s involved in human trafficking. He sold me. Freaking Mexico. I heard him bragging. But not you. You’re gonna be okay. He made a deal with someone who cares about you. As long as I don’t tell you anything to use against him, he’s letting you go.”
Olivia couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Ember, that’s crazy. They can’t just do that. Do you
still have the phone you called me from?”
“No. He found it. That’s why he picked you up. He couldn’t be sure how much I told you. He promised me if I tell you nothing, he’ll let you go unharmed. He’ll tell the Finder where you are. The Finder will come set you free tomorrow. So, don’t ask questions. He’s listening to us right now.”
Olivia looked up to see a tiny camera mounted in the corner. She flipped it off with both barrels, holding her hands up high and feeling as though she was channeling a bit of Gabby and Emma’s spirit.
“You better let us both go, you bastard! I’m not leaving without her,” she screamed.
“Don’t mess with him, Olivia. He knows everything about you. Says he’s been talking to you for months.”
Olivia shook her head. Wait. “Is his name Grayson? Is it Dusty’s brother?”
“Just be quiet. Please,” Ember desperately begged. She appeared at the tiny opening and looked across the hall, into Olivia’s eyes. “If you make him mad, he might change his mind and hurt you. I can’t fight him anymore. He has me. I’m just not meant to be free.” Her eyes filled with tears.
Olivia’s eyes filled too. If she was right, and it was Grayson, Dusty would never suspect him. What reason would he have to really let her go? He wouldn’t. He’d already proven he was a liar. Ember was delusional.
Ember swiped at her eyes and cleared her throat. “Maybe this won’t be so bad. It can’t be worse than working the streets.”
Olivia grabbed the bars with both hands. “No! Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare give up! You don’t have to be a slave to him or any other man. And no, I won’t be quiet!”
Ember looked defeated. Resigned. The spark in her green eyes was gone. Her red hair looked lifeless. She looked lifeless.
She sadly shook her head and disappeared, away from the iron bars.
She’s given up. No hope. Olivia clenched her teeth and tried to shake the bars. “Ember! You can’t give up. You have to fight him! Come back to the door.”
Olivia would fight. If Ember wouldn’t fight for herself, Olivia would do it for her. She’d waited too long to fight before, giving up years of her own life. She wouldn’t let that happen to Ember.
As Gabby would say: fuck that!
Gabby wouldn’t give up. Neither would Emma. They were survivors now. They didn’t have to just take it. They never had to just take it…it just took them a while to realize that. But those days were over.
She felt her blood warm. She let the anger soak in.
Olivia turned, looking for something to make noise. Something to bring him down here. She couldn’t fight him from behind this stupid door.
The room had only a small cot and a metal bucket in the corner with a roll of toilet paper hanging on the handle. Nothing else.
She cringed.
She grabbed the bucket, making sure it was empty first, and slammed it against the iron bars of the door. Again, and again. And again and again.
Pressing her face against the bars, she tried to see down the hall.
Nothing.
She screamed until her lungs felt as if they were bleeding. She slammed the bucket some more.
“Let us out!”
“Let us out, Asshole!”
“Let us out! I already know who you are!”
She felt her hope slide, replaced with the feel of the walls closing in. She was trapped in here. What if no one came for her? There was no food. No water.
She clanged the bucket harder. Now, with every clang, an image flashed through her mind.
Emma with Mark.
Gabby with her boss.
Her with Billy.
Her mother. In a box.
Now who’s in the box? Really in the box this time?
Now, she truly felt the terror her mother had felt so long ago.
Her lip trembled. She felt her resolve slipping.
A loop ran through her head.
Victim. Abuser. Victim. Abuser. Victim. Abuser.
The cycle. The life-sucking cycle.
Gabby had been right. She got too close.
And here she was again. Right smack in the middle of the worst case scenario. It finally hit her. It was real. It was really happening—and all around her. The world had gone nuts.
Sold?
A sex slave?
Couldn’t be, her mind argued.
It IS. This isn’t some bad movie, Olivia. This is real.
But this was America! South Carolina. Small town U.S.A. for God’s sake—not Thailand or China. Not some big city where stuff like this happened all the time in dark, seedy alleys. This was a Podunk town in comparison. How many girls could there be here that would go unnoticed if they disappeared? Why come here? Were they everywhere? Was the entire country so naïve as to think it couldn’t happen in their town?
Guess so.
Exhaustion seeped into her bones.
She turned and put her back against the door. She wanted to know if he was coming in. She’d break this bucket over his head.
Her own head felt foggy. What was on that towel? Whatever it was, it was still in her system and the short burst of adrenaline had been beaten back by it. She could taste it crawling up her throat. A bitter, chemical taste.
She felt dizzy.
She called out to Ember once more. Or tried to.
Darkness crowded in.
She slid down the door onto the floor.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Olivia startled awake from her nightmare in the middle of a scream. Her own scream. The night was pitch black. She wasn’t on the floor anymore; she was on the bed.
But she wasn’t alone. And it wasn’t a dream. And it wasn’t night.
“What the hell? Get off me!” she screamed. She panicked as she realized she was blindfolded.
A voice mirrored her own. “Get the fuck off of her, you prick!” Ember screamed from her own locked room. “You promised! You promised you wouldn’t touch her! She’s not a part of this!”
Olivia struggled to get out from under him. Her every frenzied movement was blocked by his, and she could feel his hardness against her, crushed between them. His hips swayed frantically back and forth, trying to pin hers under him. She moved violently, hoping to keep…that…away.
She could feel fabric rubbing between them; at least she still had her clothes on.
He had her arms pinned painfully above her head with just one of his hands. The other hand roughly rubbed her breast through her shirt. He tried to capture her mouth but she jerked her head wildly from side to side.
She shuddered. I’m going to be sick, she thought. He reeked. The pungent smell of stale tobacco and coffee rolled in waves against her face, mixed with his hot, heaving breath.
She couldn’t see. She shook her head to try to shake off the blindfold, and then realized what it was for. If she saw him, he couldn’t let her go. She stopped trying to get it off, but desperately struggled to move him, or move out from under him. He was heavy. She was getting nowhere.
“Olivia? Fight him! Scream!” Ember screamed frantically.
Time slowed to a crawl. It didn’t seem real. This couldn’t be happening. Tears squeezed from her eyes as visions of Gabby and Emma in the same positions haunted her.
While Olivia was a survivor too, her abuse mostly consisted of fists and feet—and words. When her sisters had shared their stories in group, she hadn’t even been able to imagine the horror and terror of repeated sexual abuse. Being forced to submit… having your body taken against your will. Over and over again…
She knew it would be worse than awful—unbearable; at least for her it would be. All these years later, she was barely able to think of her sisters living those nightmares for as long as they had. They must’ve been stronger than her to overcome it. And they hadn’t just survived; they’d thrived.
Olivia moved against him in a flurry of arms, hands, hair and clothes. Fighting in the dark was terrifying, and she felt like a flea against his strength. She didn’t have t
he breath to scream, but she kept up the struggle for as long as she could, whipping her head from side to side and trying to find a foot-hold to wedge his legs away from her.
But she was wearing out. She whimpered as her body slowed its thrashing. He was just too strong, and whatever he’d used to knock her out had left her weak.
“Please. Just stop,” she begged.
He didn’t answer.
Ember screamed again from across the hall, “Kick him in the balls, Olivia! Fight him. He hates to be fought against.”
Fight how? Olivia thought. The fight in her was almost gone. Her kicks landed sharply against the back of his legs—but his legs felt like tree trunks. Even if she was at her strongest, she doubted she could hurt him. She tried again, bending her knee up first and bringing it down as hard as she could, using her heel to stab the back of his calf.
He chuckled.
The rip of her shirt rang out through the room like a shotgun blast. She froze.
Ember beat on the door of her own room loudly. “Stop it! Leave her alone, you bastard!”
He pulled her arms down, still holding them tightly with one hand, so that he could lower his head. He jerked her bra down with his teeth, exposing her breast to the cold air before shoving it into his mouth. She felt his teeth sharply against her skin.
She sucked in her own breath and tried not to move. It was going to happen. There wasn’t anything she could do. He’s going to hurt me. He’s going to rape me and hurt me.
Flashes of her ex-husband hurting her rolled through her head. The pain. She thought she was away from it forever. She didn’t know which she feared worse: being beaten or being raped. The thought of both happening was unimaginable. Her heart beat out of control.
His mouth covered her nipple and he sucked hard, and then roughly grabbed her breast, shoving more in as he pushed himself against her.
Olivia felt her stomach roll. She squeezed her eyes shut under the blindfold, and tried to prepare herself. It might be worse than rape. What if he bites me? Mutilates my breasts?
She tried to hold completely still, afraid to even breathe. Her nipples were on high alert. She gritted her teeth while her body shook in fear and she tried to control the tremors.