She Told a Lie

by P. D. Workman

  The police would be too obvious and attract too much attention.

  No one would notice one lone private investigator walking into the building. He had been there once before and he didn’t look anything like a cop. The guy who had seen him downstairs would think he was Madison’s client. Other people, looking at his gaunt face and bloodshot eyes, would assume that he was an addict. He frequently went without shaving, knowing that people would discount him as a homeless person or druggie. Someone that they didn’t want to look at or acknowledge, in case he asked them for money or targeted them some other way.

  He could slip in, talk to Madison, and get back out quickly, unobtrusively. No one would even know he had been there.

  He reached the top of the flight of stairs and stopped and listened for a moment. Making sure that there was no one else in the stairway, breathing and watching for his approach. He couldn’t hear anything but his own heart pounding in his ears.

  Zachary pushed the door open and slipped into the hallway, still on high alert, looking and listening for anything out of place. It could be a setup. But if it was, then it was Rhys that they were setting up, not Zachary. It was Rhys who had gotten the distress signal.

  If they were watching for a young black boy, they weren’t going to find him. Zachary could walk right by them and they wouldn’t know who he was.

  He padded down the carpeted hall, his light shoes making no noise. The only noise he made was the brushing together of his pants as he moved and his breathing, which sounded loud in his ears, but he knew logically it was not.

  He stopped outside of Madison’s door and listened. He couldn’t hear anything going on inside this time. No argument or discussion going on. Maybe a TV way in the background, or maybe that was from one of the neighboring apartments. The walls were not built to be soundproof. There might not even be anyone home, though there was a light under the door. They could have left the lights on. Not everyone was diligent about shutting their lights off, especially kids who had never been responsible for paying electrical bills. Or it might have been left on to make it look inhabited so that it didn’t become a target for burglars.

  Zachary considered his approach. Send a text message to Madison to let her know he was there? Knock on the door? Which would be safer for her?

  He stood there for several long seconds, considering, biting his knuckle anxiously. In the end, he decided it was better that he draw any negative reaction to himself, rather than alerting Noah or whoever might be with her that she was communicating covertly with someone. If Zachary showed up out of the blue, she had plausible deniability. She hadn’t called him. There was no evidence that she’d ever reached out to him, because she hadn’t. She’d messaged Rhys. And if she were smart, she had then deleted the message from her phone. Rhys hadn’t messaged her back. So she was clean. No sign that she had contacted anyone.

  Zachary raised his hand and knocked lightly on the door.

  Maybe not loudly enough to be heard over the TV, or through a closed bedroom door. But if Noah were the one watching TV, that was probably for the best. It was better if Madison were the only one who heard him.

  He waited. The sound of the TV kept going. No one shut it off or muted it, listening for him to knock again. There were no footsteps.

  Zachary felt like the acid in his stomach was eating a hole right through it. He wanted something to happen, and he didn’t want anything to happen. It took all of his self-will to raise his hand and knock again, a little more loudly.

  He didn’t hear the footsteps before the chain on the door clinked and the bolt slid open.

  Madison opened the door and looked out at him.

  Several emotions crossed her face as she recognized him. Relief, curiosity, confusion. Fear and anger.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

  “Rhys got your message. I’m here to help you.”

  Her face was blank.

  “To help you get out,” Zachary said, waiting for the confirmation on her face. “You sent a message to Rhys.”

  Madison shook her head.

  Zachary swore to himself.

  Someone else had picked up Madison’s phone and sent that message.

  Or she might be lying. She might have messaged Rhys and then chickened out. She might be worried that someone would overhear them. She might not trust him. She had sent the message to Rhys, so why had Zachary shown up?

  Or it might have been someone targeting Rhys. As Zachary had noted to himself before, Rhys was vulnerable. There were plenty of boys being trafficked too. Some for sex and some for slave labor. Rhys was young and part of a minority population, which made him more desirable. And he was selectively mute, using only a word or two in a day. He couldn’t call for help.

  “You did,” he told Madison firmly, as if he knew she was the one who had sent the message. “You asked him for help.” He tried to use his most reassuring voice, soothing Madison like she was a scared puppy. “I’m here to help you, Madison.”

  Madison shook her head again, stepping back slightly from the door. Distancing herself. Preparing to shut the door. She glanced nervously over her shoulder.

  But it was too late, Noah had heard her, and he stepped into the kitchen.

  31

  Zachary’s mind spun through a hundred reactions and scenarios at once. Reach inside and grab Madison by the wrist. Pull her out of the room and trust that she would run with him once she was out the door. But Noah could be armed. He was undoubtedly faster than Zachary, and probably faster than Madison. They couldn’t escape with superior speed. And Noah was in his own territory. He wouldn’t hesitate to go after them, to pull a weapon if he needed it. Who was going to report him? One of his neighbors? Someone who had to live with him in the building when he made bail and returned home?

  Zachary didn’t carry a gun. He might be able to hold Noah off for a minute if he didn’t have one, but not for long.

  Madison hadn’t sent the message to Rhys. Therefore, Noah was the one who had sent the message. He knew that Madison hadn’t betrayed him. He had been trying to set Rhys up. Rhys was safe, in the car with the doors locked. Noah’s ploy had failed. He had no way of knowing that Rhys was close by. He could see that Zachary had come in his place. As long as Zachary didn’t force the issue, he should be able to back out of the situation without endangering himself or Madison. A good guy, but a coward. Someone who fled at the appearance of danger. Not someone that Noah needed to worry about.

  “Uh, hi. Sorry, I guess I got my wires crossed somehow. I thought Madison had sent a message saying that she needed help. But she says it didn’t come from her. She’s fine, and no one needs my help, so I’ll get out of here. My wife will be wondering where I am.”

  Noah continued to approach the door. He nudged Madison back, out of the way, so that Zachary was face-to-face with him, without a target or shield in between them. Zachary was glad that there was no chance of Madison getting caught in any crossfire. He wanted to keep her safe. Or as safe as he possibly could.

  “I sent that message,” Noah said, staring into Zachary’s face, his expression blank, eyes deep dark pools.

  Zachary tried to regulate his breathing, hoping that Noah wouldn’t be able to hear how hard he was straining for breath or how fast and hard his heart was pumping.

  “You sent it?”

  Noah nodded. Zachary breathed through his mouth, waiting for Noah to explain. Noah would gloat, tell him that it was all a set-up and Zachary had fallen for it. Maybe it had been Zachary that Noah was hoping would come. Maybe his bosses wanted Zachary out of the way. Noah was hoping to please them by getting an obstacle out of the way.

  Noah looked over at Madison. Zachary tried to analyze his expression. Not a threat. Not angry. He didn’t see anything but Madison’s own fear reflected back in Noah’s face. Noah reached over and touched Madison on the arm. Reassuring.

  Noah opened the door farther. “Come in. Out of sight.”

  32

  Z
achary’s body was telling him to retreat.

  Pull back and get away from the danger. Don’t march right into the spider’s parlor. Get away.

  But his brain was at odds with his body. The fear on Noah’s face. Madison’s confusion. The strange interplay between them that Zachary couldn’t figure out. Something didn’t make sense. But if he stayed for longer, he could figure it out. He was good at sorting out body language and human behavior.

  He stepped into the tiny kitchen. Noah shut the door and bolted and chained it.

  The floor was a little sticky. Like the linoleum had softened too much over the years and turned tacky. The kitchen was too small for all three of them to be in there comfortably. Noah motioned for Madison to leave the kitchen first, and she walked into a living room that was almost as small. But there were places to sit. Dark, stained furniture that looked like it had been pulled from the dump. Maybe picked up from a curbside or garage sale. Madison sat down on a rusty-colored, flowery couch with dark wood accents. Seventies? Eighties? It looked like something that Zachary’s family might have had in the house that had burned down.

  Noah motioned Zachary to a chair and sat down beside Madison. He didn’t cuddle up to her, but he took her hand and held it in another gesture of reassurance.

  What was going on?

  “You sent that message to Rhys? Asking for help?” Zachary asked. His mouth was as dry as cotton. Some of his meds gave him a dry mouth, but it was so bone dry he could barely talk or work up a drop of spittle. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and felt like it belonged to someone else.

  Noah nodded. He glanced aside at Madison and then looked at Zachary again. “You came here to get Madison. Because of Rhys.”

  Zachary nodded. It wasn’t like there was any question of that fact. Why else would he be there? That was why he had come before, and that was why he had come this time.

  Madison put her free hand on Noah’s back. Like she was comforting him. She shook her head slightly. “Why?”

  “You don’t belong here. You should get out. You should go with him.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You have to.”

  Madison shook her head more definitely. She looked at Zachary, as if expecting him to explain it to Noah. “If I leave, they’ll go after him. They’ll beat him up. Torture him.”

  She loved him. She wouldn’t do anything that might put him in danger. Even if he was the one who had pulled her into the situation, acted the part of the Romeo and seduced her into something that she would never have thought she would agree to. Now she was stuck, and she wouldn’t leave because of the danger to him.

  “I hope they kill me,” Noah said. “At least then, I wouldn’t have to do this anymore. I’d be out of this life.”

  “No.” Madison squeezed Noah’s hand more tightly. “No, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Zachary looked helplessly at the two of them. “Maybe… why don’t you start at the beginning. Noah… I guess I’m being stupid here, but I don’t understand. If you want out of the life, then get out. And if you want Madison out… then let her go. Help her to get away. You’re the one holding her here.”

  “I’m not. I already told her to go. I told her she should have gone with you or the cops. If she stays around here… it’s just going to get worse and worse.”

  Zachary could see the same pain in Noah’s eyes that he’d seen in Jocelyn’s. It felt like a stab to his chest, thinking about how scared and hopeless Jocelyn must have felt for all of those years, feeling trapped and too afraid to even try to get out. Until she was all worn out and no one wanted her anymore. Until she nearly died, and no one had cared.

  “How is it going to get worse?” Zachary asked. If they were going to get Madison out, she needed to hear it. She needed to hear all of the gritty, sordid details and to understand what she had gotten herself into and how she needed to get out now, not to wait until she reached the end of the line like Jocelyn had.

  Noah swallowed. He looked down at his hands, his elbows leaning on his knees and Madison’s hand held between his. How old was he? Studying his face close up, Zachary wondered if he was even nineteen. He’d looked older. He’d acted older. But in the dim light of a yellow lamp, he looked very young. He didn’t have any stubble on his face. His skin was smooth as a child’s.

  “You don’t want to be in this kind of life,” he told Madison without looking at her. “I’ve told you that. But I haven’t… I haven’t told you everything.”

  “What is it? Tell me now.”

  Noah looked up, across the room, across the kitchen, to the locked front door. Reassuring himself that he was safe from intruders, that there was no one else there to hear his confession.

  Zachary’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He suddenly remembered Rhys, sitting out there in the dark, cold car, waiting for Zachary to return. He pulled it out and glanced at the single character on the screen. A question mark.

  “Give me a second,” he said. He quickly tapped out a message to Rhys that he was okay and would get down as soon as he could. But Rhys was to sit tight for now. Then he slid the phone back away and looked at Noah. “I’m sorry. Just a check-in to make sure everything is okay.”

  Noah nodded.

  33

  “I was thirteen when I started,” Noah said. “I don’t know. Maybe twelve. I don’t remember exactly when the first time I saw him was.”

  “Him?” Madison repeated.

  “Connor.” Noah’s voice cracked. “The one who recruited me.”

  He didn’t look at Madison. She stared at him, trying to understand what he was talking about.

  “Connor said I was special. He said… I had a beautiful face. I’d never… I’d never been with anyone. Never had anyone give me attention like that. Never had anyone say a kind word to me.”

  Madison made a little noise of protest.

  “I was living with my grandma. No one wanted me. My parents died. But they’d never wanted me around anyway. I bounced back and forth between them and different steps or uncles or whatever. And my grandma. She was the only one who ever gave me any kind of stable home. A place where I could sleep and not be afraid of who might show up in the middle of the night, or what kind of a mood people might be in. She was good to me, but she was old, and her health wasn’t good, and it didn’t help to have everyone always messing with her, disrupting things and dumping me there without a word of warning.”

  “And she died,” Zachary filled in, remembering what the man at the bodega had said.

  “Yeah,” Noah agreed. “And… I was lost. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Where to go or how to feel better. I drank, I did pot, I hung out with guys who broke all of the rules. Because I didn’t have anyone else to go to. At least they put up with having me around. And then Connor…”

  Zachary shook his head, his stomach flipping.

  “He said he loved me,” Noah said, eyes glistening. “He said he would help me. Take care of me. But it was just a sham. Just like they would teach me to do later, to bring other kids in. Other boys. And girls.”

  He looked at Madison. Her eyes were wide. Maybe it wasn’t until then that she realized that she’d been intentionally targeted. Like Jocelyn had suggested, Noah would tell her that he just needed her to do something for him to help keep the leg-breakers off of him. Just one favor. And just another. And someday, when they had paid off all of the debts and had enough money, they would live an idyllic life with the two of them sharing a little house somewhere, safe and comfortable and able to put the hard days behind them.

  She thought that he really did love her. That he was her boyfriend. She’d caught his eye, and he had been drawn toward her. It had been fate. Cupid’s arrow. Not an act coldly crafted to draw her in and seduce her until she was willing to do whatever he asked her to.

  “But… no.” Madison breathed. “No. That’s not what it was like.”

  Noah let go of her hand and put his hands over his eyes. “Yes. That’s e
xactly what it was like. I found your social profiles online. That’s how we identify who we’re going to target. See where you go to school. What your schedule is. How much time your parents are away or doing their own thing. What you’re posting online. We work up a profile. What kind of a person you are and what we’ll use—what I’ll use—to lure you.”

  Madison’s breath rasped loudly. She stared at Noah, shocked and distressed, still not believing that what he was telling her was true. Despite everything she had done, she had thought she was doing it for him. To help him. Keep him safe. To get his love and approval and all of the good feelings that went with doing what he wanted her to. He was supposed to love her. Zachary had no doubt that Noah had told her that he loved her. And she had believed it with all her heart. She would do anything for him. Just like he felt about Bridget.

  “You’re not the first one.” Noah’s voice was strangled. “I turn out a couple new kids every year. You don’t know what kind of… what a piece of crap I am.”

  “But…” Madison shook her head, tears starting to run down her face. “Why? Why would you do that?”

  “Because I have to do the same thing as you… to keep my boss happy. And it’s not enough to just turn tricks. That only earns so much money. I need to keep bringing in fresh meat. And each of them, eventually, will have to do the same. You move up in the organization, or you don’t survive.”

  “And your boss is… Connor?”

  Noah took a deep breath. “No. No… Connor died years ago. He had someone over him, and they had someone over them, and on up. When he was gone, then the person over him took over his stable.”