“We have to get out of here,” she said.
“Impossible,” Ashley said. She lifted her shirt and revealed an ugly bruise. “I tried, once, when they were feeding us. It still hurts.”
“I’d rather be dead.”
“No. Please help me. I don’t want to die.”
“What’s going on over there?” Kami gestured to the crying women in the cell next to hers.
“I’m not sure, but I think someone is hurt.”
Kami frowned. She shuffled over to the side, stepping over sleeping women, until she could see into the adjoining cell. A young girl was crying over an older girl who lay on the floor, her eyes open. The younger girl was repeating something that sounded like a name. Something like Flower, but that wasn’t exactly right. Flower wasn’t moving. Her eyes looked unnatural.
Kami turned her face. She was dead. Kami had seen dead bodies before, and Flower was dead.
Ashley whispered, “Several of the girls are sick.”
“What else have you heard?”
“They’re going to move us tonight, when it’s dark.”
Kami frowned, looked around at all the women, the hollow eyes, the defeat.
She didn’t want to die, either. “Okay.”
A crashing noise upstairs preceded the rumbling of footfalls on the metal stairs. Three men entered, all thugs Kami recognized from Lorenzo’s gang. Ringo approached her cell and sneered. “You should have stayed out of business that doesn’t concern you.”
She spat in his face.
Ringo reached in and grabbed her by the neck, slammed her face against the bars. She grabbed the bars, trying to pull free. She couldn’t breathe.
Another guy hit Ringo on the back of the head. “Knock it off.”
Ringo dropped her, and she fell to her knees.
Ringo said, “Clean them all up and make them ready. Open the cells, one at a time, order them to line up for showers and clothes. We don’t have a lot of time.”
Ringo turned back to Kami. He said, “You do what you’re told or you’re dead. You’ll get no other warning.”
All three men had guns. They started with the cell closest to the showers. Kami watched as the girls were walked through, ordered to strip, and sprayed with soap and water. There was no steam, no warmth coming from the open shower room, and the girls came out cold and shaking. There were a couple of towels, but after the first few dried off, the towels were too wet to be effective. They were each handed a shapeless dress and no underwear. After they dressed, right ankles were tied together as they lined up down the hall. The girls shuffled back into their filthy cells. It took thirty minutes, and then they opened the next.
“Shit, Ringo, I think this one’s dead.”
“Flower,” the younger girl wailed.
“Well, fuck me,” Ringo said. “I’ll take care of it. Start the next cell. Lee’s going to inspect them this afternoon, they need to be ready for the trucks. We’re moving up the schedule, no fucking around this time.”
Kami’s cell was opened. The girls lined up, quiet, resigned to their fate.
Kami couldn’t let herself get tied up. But the third guy with the gun was at the base of the stairs. There could be more upstairs. Maybe this was her only chance.
Ashley grabbed her hand. Looked at Kami, as if Kami had all the answers.
“How old are you?” Kami whispered. “Don’t lie this time.” She’d told Richie she was sixteen.
“Thirteen,” Ashley said. “I just want to go home.”
“Shh,” Kami said.
The young girl sitting over Flower’s body started screaming and kicking, and Ringo hit her so hard her body slammed against the cement wall and collapsed, unmoving.
Some of the other young women started crying and shouting, and Ringo took out his gun and shot two of the girls who were sick in the corner. “Nobody move!” Ringo said. “Tell them, Jonny!”
The man guarding the stairs came down the hall, towering over all of them, shouting in Chinese. The girls cowered and cried.
Kami squeezed Ashley’s hand and they both ran up the stairs.
They heard more gunshots in the basement below, and Kami didn’t know if the gunfire was directed at them or if Ringo had just lost it and was going to kill them all. Kami hated leaving all those girls, but if she didn’t run and try to get help, she’d suffer the same fate.
“Come on,” she urged, then noticed that Ashley was in pain. She must have been hurt far worse than either of them had thought.
“We have to keep going,” Kami said. No one was guarding the top of the stairs so she ran straight for the door. Ashley’s hand slipped from hers. Kami grabbed it again, pulling her along.
She pushed open the door. The bright sunlight nearly blinded her. Where was the fog? The rain? It was cold, but the sky was so clear she wanted to cry.
“I can’t see!” Ashley said.
Ashley must have been down in the basement for days—ever since Richie turned her over to Lee. How could Richie have done it? How could he be so cruel that he’d sell runaways to Christopher Lee to be forced to do unspeakable things? Kami knew Richie Lorenzo was a cruel drug dealer but he’d always looked out for her. How could he turn on her like this? Because he had to know that she’d been locked up, too. Right?
“Stay with me,” Kami begged Ashley. “Please, just stay close.”
Kami made sure she had a good grip on Ashley as she pulled her through the cracked parking lot. Rocks and broken glass cut into her bare feet. She heard shouts behind them and they ran harder. Her vision was clearing up. She knew these streets as well as anyone; she just needed to get to Elle’s apartment. She hoped and prayed Elle was there.
Lee’s men were going to follow them. They had cars. They also knew this town.
But Kami had one ace in the hole. The money she’d stashed under a rock near the teen center. If they could get there, only half a mile away, they could hop on BART and go anywhere.
Ashley was slowing down. One look at her pale face and Kami knew she wasn’t going to make it.
Kami half dragged, half carried her toward an abandoned warehouse down the street from where they’d been held captive. Though it was fenced off, there was a hole in the chain-link fence from scavengers who’d picked the place clean of cans and bottles to earn a few bucks to buy beer and crack. Kami had crossed paths with the mentally disturbed homeless who puttered about, barely surviving.
Kami pulled Ashley through the hole and wished she could find a better, safer place to hide.
Behind the boarded-up warehouse were piles of garbage, broken machines, and boxes. Kami positioned Ashley between the Dumpster and a doorless refrigerator. “Stay here. I’m going to get help. No matter what you do, don’t leave.”
“Promise? Promise you’ll come back?”
“I promise. Just be very, very quiet.”
Ashley nodded and lay down. She was not well. What if she had a broken rib or something? Couldn’t that be dangerous?
But Kami couldn’t sit here and wait for Ringo and the others to find them. She peered around the building and didn’t see anyone.
She bolted.
* * *
Christopher Lee listened to the report from his men and was proud that he resisted the urge to shoot them all.
“The two girls who should never have been allowed to escape, escaped?” Lee shook his head.
“We found the blonde,” Ringo said. “She was hiding behind a Dumpster.”
“Where is she now? In the Dumpster, I hope?”
Ringo glanced at Jonny, and Jonny said, “Blondes are worth too much. I drugged her. She won’t be waking until she hits the border.”
Marginally better.
“And the little bitch who was spying on me? Why didn’t you kill her outright?”
“Boss, you said we were short on girls,” Ringo said.
“You should have dumped her on that bitch lawyer’s doorstep like the last one,” Lee said.
Jonny spoke up
. “We’re on a tight schedule because of all the mistakes with your shipping company, Mr. Lee. Playing games with a two-bit lawyer wastes time.”
Lee didn’t like Soldare’s man. He didn’t treat Lee with the respect that he had earned. He was constantly watching, waiting for a screw-up. To report him to Soldare? To cut him off? Neither of them knew how important he was to their operation. One call and he could shut them down and walk away clean.
He said, “You know where that little girl is going, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but we may have a solution,” Ringo said. “We had a guy watching Santana’s apartment. She left thirty minutes ago.”
“Did you follow her?”
“Yes, we have eyes on her. If the girl contacts her, we’ll get them both.”
“You’ll kill them both. I’m tired of that lawyer interfering with my business. For years I’ve worked under the radar, and she comes in like a bull in a china shop.” He closed his eyes and forced himself to be calm.
“Where is the private investigator?”
“Still in the apartment, we think.”
“Think, or know?”
“He’s there,” Jonny said.
“I want eyes on Ms. Santana and eyes on her apartment. That little tramp Kami is the only real threat to our operations. She’s the only one who knows where this place is. She’s the only one who might have evidence against me. Find her then kill her. She may very well go to Santana’s apartment first.”
“I’ll do it,” Ringo said.
“No. Jonny, you’re in charge now.” As much as Lee didn’t like Soldare’s people, they were effective. “Ringo, you get the rest of my merchandise ready for transport and move them to the backup facility.”
“Isn’t that risky during the day?”
Lee didn’t like his orders questioned.
“Jonny knows what to do,” he said quietly.
“Yes, sir,” Jonny said. “Find the girl and the lawyer and kill them both.”
Effective. And long overdue.
CHAPTER 11
Patrick
I’m really sorry, but I have to go out and look for Kami. She may have gone back to Mia’s, or she might be at the center. Forgive me—but I waited too long last time, and they left Doreen dying on my doorstep. I can’t wait for them to kill Kami, too.
You have my number. I turned tracking on. I’m sure that’s something you can work with, considering.
Elle
P.S. I hope we can repeat last night. XOXO
Patrick wanted to throttle her. She knew she was in danger, and yet she walked out of her apartment without backup, without a bodyguard, without anything but her wits.
And right now, he wasn’t thinking too kindly about her wits.
His phone rang and he immediately thought it was Elle. But the caller ID was in Sacramento.
“Patrick? It’s Dean Hooper.”
“You have something for me?”
“You may have broken an ICE case wide open.”
Dean Hooper was one of the top-ranked FBI agents in Sacramento. He specialized in white-collar crimes, particularly money laundering, and his wife, Sonia, was an ICE agent who specialized in human traffickers. Between the two of them, they’d shut down more trafficking pipelines in northern California than any other interagency task force.
“Sounds great. Tell me what I did.”
“That woman you photographed is Margret Chin Soldare. Her father was British, her mother Chinese. She was raised in Hong Kong and married a businessman with a penchant for underage girls. She would procure the girls for him, then dispose of them by shipping them overseas. China is still the number one exporter of sex slaves. And Soldare is one of the top sellers.
“No one knew she was in the country. Sonia’s team shut down her pipeline on the Sacramento River and severely damaged her network. We translated the Chinese conversation—essentially, she was railing against the problems that destroyed her network and forced her to work with Lee who, apparently, she does not like. She turned over one hundred thirty girls to him last week—girls that were supposed to be on the boat—and he must guarantee that at least one hundred twenty of them make it to the border where she has a buyer.”
Dean Hooper certainly sounded excited, but Patrick was lost. “I don’t understand. Where did these young women come from? China?”
“I’ll backtrack a bit—last month, Sonia learned of a shipment of underage girls from China who’d landed in Vallejo. They were being transferred from the main ship to a smaller ship, using Lee’s shipping line, but someone tipped them off and when ICE got there, the girls were gone. From what we’ve determined, Lee—we didn’t know for certain, but after the conversation you recorded we have it confirmed—stored the girls for Soldare. We suspected they were waiting until ICE backed off unscheduled inspections, but because ICE essentially shut down Lee’s shipping company, they came up with an alternate plan. Moving them by truck, knowing we’re focused on the Sacramento River.”
“So these girls from China have been locked up for a month?”
“Yes, we think so.” Patrick’s stomach turned, but Dean continued. “ICE is mobilizing a team. I need a location.”
“The girls aren’t in his factory—I didn’t see any sign of them. But Elle is out looking for her contact.”
“Elle?”
“Gabrielle Santana, a lawyer. Long story, but I think she’s in trouble, as well as a young girl named Kami who claimed to have proof of Lee’s illegal activities.”
“Margret is ruthless. We’ve already alerted Homeland and she won’t be getting out via plane or train, but she has contacts we don’t even know about. Look, I’ll have the ICE team leader contact you directly. No need to have a middleman. I’m going through Lee’s finances; he’s good, but I’m better. I’ll find out how he’s laundering his money and exactly where it is.”
“What would help is a list of his businesses—anything he owns, or that one of his shell companies owns.”
“I’ll pass everything on through Homeland. And you’ll be looking for a facility with a truck bay.”
“Why?”
“Chi Sun Shipping doesn’t operate on water, it’s all tractor-trailer rigs. They’re putting the girls in trucks, not ships, which means the destination is somewhere in the U.S., though they might have a spot to cross into Mexico through Imperial County.”
“That makes me sick.”
“Join the club.” Dean hung up.
Patrick pulled out his phone and called Elle. She answered on the second ring. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“Get back here.” He set his phone to trace her GPS.
“I’ll let you know if I run into trouble.”
“You’re already in trouble, Elle.”
“It’s Sunday morning, it’s bright and sunny outside. I’m not going to do anything stupid.”
“You already have.” He winced, then tried to backtrack. “Look, Elle, there are a lot of people working on this. You’re safer here.” Where I can keep an eye on you.
“I’ll keep in touch.” She hung up.
“Dammit!” He slammed down his phone. He monitored the app that was tracking her GPS. It wasn’t a trace program, but since she’d turned on her GPS and made it public, he could follow her.
So could anyone else, for that matter.
He was going to have to catch up with her. She really irritated him. He didn’t like operating without a game plan, and now he was being forced to react instead of act.
He checked his gun, holstered it, and then his phone rang again.
“Kincaid.”
“It’s Jack.”
“I might need you—I’m in San Francisco.”
“I know all about it. I’m downstairs. Buzz me in.”
Patrick went to the door and buzzed the lobby door open. A minute later Jack was at Elle’s door. He gave Patrick a brief hug and slapped him on the back. “Good to see you.”
“You must have left at dawn.”
“JT got an ID on that Chinese chick and I knew we had a situation, so I came.”
“Thank you.” He showed Jack his phone. “Elle skipped out when I was in the shower and I’m tracking her. I need to bring her back. She’s not thinking.”
“What the hell’s she doing?”
“Trying to find Kami, a missing girl she feels responsible for. We tracked her to Lee’s main business, the garment warehouse, last night, but had no leads after. How did you know Soldare’s identity when Hooper just called me about it?”
“Where do you think he got his information? Probably told you his people ID’d her.” Jack half smiled. His smile looked almost sinister. “You go get Elle. I’ll work with Jaye to narrow down locations where Lee could be holding the girls. She’s been running through all businesses owned by Lee or any of his companies. The FBI is working on it too, but I’m putting my money on Jaye. By the time you get back, we should have a good list.”
“Thanks, Jack.”
“Be careful.”
Patrick opened the door, then halted when he heard a sound on the stairs. He looked around the bend and saw a teenage girl in a baseball cap limping up the stairs. She spotted him and froze.
“Kami?” he asked.
She turned and started back down the stairs.
“Kami! Wait!”
She didn’t stop.
Jack was right behind him. Patrick ran after Kami and easily caught up with her before she could open the door.
He grabbed her and held her from behind.
“Kami, I’m a friend of Elle’s.”
“Let me go!”
“Stop! You can call her. She’s out looking for you right now.”
Jack checked the door, made sure it was secure, then gave Kami the once-over as Patrick held on to her arms. “Where’ve you been?”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Jack Kincaid. This is my brother Patrick.” He looked at her bare feet, the dirt caked onto her jeans and T-shirt. “The first thing they take from the girls they kidnap are their shoes, so they can’t easily run away.” He grabbed her arm and looked at her wrists. They were red and swollen from being tied. “You escaped.”
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