by Sasscer Hill
“I should mingle,” I said. “You guys have a good time.”
“Don’t you worry, cutey. We will.”
I walked back to the woman in the green suit.
“Hi,” I said, “I’m Mary. My company is interested in partnering with Wordwide. Have you had luck doing business with them?”
“Hi,” she shook my hand. “I’m Louise, with the Grafton Company. We’re in high end electronics, and yes, we’ve had great luck importing parts through Worldwide. Super prices.”
“Cool,” I said, wondering if the parts were assembled by children.
Louise launched into a lecture about getting the best bang for your buck with imports, and I glanced back at Ted and Ned. They had emptied their glasses and were heading toward the door with the “stairs” sign.
“Excuse me,” I said to Louise, then took a quick breath and followed the iron pumpers.
CHAPTER 38
When the door closed behind Ted and Ned, I set down my tonic glass on a nearby table, then walked to the door and opened it. Inside, carpeted stairs and a carved wood railing climbed upward. I’d bet they’d built this addition after the main construction was finished.
I heard a door close above me, and glancing up, was dismayed to see a big guy in a gray suit staring down at me from the landing. His arms were folded across his chest.
“I think you’re going the wrong way,” he said. “You need a name tag to come up here.”
I giggled and headed up the stairs toward him, stumbling a little as if unsteady from too much rum. “I’m with the two guys who just went up there.”
“They didn’t say anything about you.”
“That’s because they thought I was right behind them. They got me one of those curls they’re drinking. That’s a mean cocktail! Mixed me up a little, you know?”
“That may be true, but why would they need you up there?”
I smiled, gave him a wink. “Because we do everything together.”
He looked at me with more interest. “Well, come on up, honey.”
When I lurched past him, he grabbed for me, but I jerked away and sprinted up the stairs. Fortunately, he didn’t come after me, but a glance back showed him using some sort of communication device.
I made a U-turn and followed the second flight of stairs to the next floor. Once there, I found myself in a hallway. I could smell cigars and cigarettes and something sour, like sweat. I suspected I was in a section of the eleventh floor blocked off from the rest of the building.
Ned and Ted had their backs to me as they spoke to a man and two women sitting at a horseshoe shaped, carved desk placed against one wall. From their positions, the threesome could watch every angle of the hallway, especially the long row of closed doors on the opposite wall. The women were pretty but worn, about thirty-something. Acne scars pitted the man’s face, and behind him pictures of girls, like the ones at the raided White Sands agency, lined the wall.
Pit Face nailed me with a cold gaze. “What can we do for you?”
I walked toward him. “I’m a friend of Ned and Ted, here. I forgot to tell them they should look up Lena tonight.”
The iron pumpers turned around, and I waved. “Ned, Lena’s really hot, has this gorgeous body and…” I fanned myself with my hand, then looked at the guy behind the desk. “She’s here, right?”
“Who are you?” Pit Face asked.
“She’s in lingerie,” Ned said, apparently too fueled by his rum to think about distancing himself.
“I’m sorry. There is no Lena here.” But his gaze shifted to a closed room across the hall, a little farther down.
Nearby, a door opened, and a man about forty walked out, patting his hair into place. I glimpsed a girl lying on the bed, naked under some sort of sparkling, sheer covering. She stared mindlessly at the ceiling, never glancing our way. She was Jade’s age.
I must have shown my disgust. The man paused when he saw me, dropped his gaze to the floor, and hurried past. He moved into the stairwell and disappeared.
Pit Face was giving me the hard stare. “This is a private club up here, lady. What people do is their business. Turn around and go downstairs.” He rose from his chair.
I couldn’t help but look at the girl in the room nearby, then at the door where I hoped to find Lena. I took a step toward it. Big mistake.
Pit Face circled from behind his desk and rushed me. I launched myself into Ted, shoving him at Pit Face. Their legs tangled, and they fell.
A woman behind the desk shrieked. When the other one snatched up the phone, I lunged behind the desk, kicked her hard in the shins, then jerked the phone line from the wall. Turning to Ned, I pointed at the open room, where the girl lay on the bed.
“Don’t you get it? That girl’s a slave! The cops are on their way. Do you want to be a hero or a villain when they arrive?”
Ned took a moment to process, then looked at Pit Face, who had rolled to a sitting position and was pulling something from his suit. Ned erupted forward and kicked Pit Face in the head. He did it once more after the man went down.
Gasping, Ned leaned over and grabbed Ted’s arm. “Come on, man, let’s get out of here!”
They ran down the hall to the stairwell with the woman who’d shrieked hard on their heels. Just as the three of them reached the end of the corridor, the landing guard burst through the doorway. One of my iron pumpers shoved the guy and he disappeared backwards with a shout and a crash.
Doors began opening along the hallway and men peered out, straightening clothes and zipping zippers, before fleeing for the stairs. Some of them carried their shoes. I ran for the room I hoped held Lena, and shoved the door open.
A tall, fat man in a gold necklace and nothing else lay on a bed, snoring. The girl with hair the color of cinnamon huddled in a chair in the corner. She’d wrapped a sheer, spangled sheet around her body.
“Lena?” I asked, closing the door behind me.
Her head turned slowly. Her eyes had trouble focusing.
“I want to help. Is your name Lena?”
“Yes.”
I leaned over a pile of clothes and picked up a large Hawaiian print shirt. “Here, put this on.” I handed it to her, but she was slow, unable to concentrate. “I’ll help you.”
Slowly, I pulled the sheer cloth away from her side. Bite marks and bruises covered her breast. Like an evil presence, a sea horse tattoo stared at me from the smooth skin above her elbow.
Get a grip, Nikki.
I slid Lena’s right arm into the sleeve of the shirt. She seemed more aware now, pushing away the rest of the sequined cloth, sliding her left arm into the shirt’s other sleeve. I buttoned her up. When she stood, the shirt hung almost to her knees.
“Let’s get you out of here,” I said.
A loud snore from the bed startled us. Lena’s eyes widened in fear, but when the guy didn’t wake up, she whispered, “Pig!”
We crept to the door, Lena hanging behind me. I eased it open a crack and peered out.
Chakri and the man with a pony tail stood near the desk. A tattoo on the arm of the pony tail guy stopped me cold. Horses galloping from the sea. Driven by a man with a pitchfork. I had to be looking at Gonzales.
In the hall, the woman I’d kicked in the shin sat in a desk chair rubbing her leg as she spoke to the men. “No, I don’t know who she was.”
Chakri murmured words I couldn’t make out. Behind me Lena moved closer, saw the men, whimpered, and stumbled back. The woman in the chair looked up.
She pointed at me. “That’s her!”
I slammed the door shut, then pulled Lena to the wall beside the door hinges. Throwing it open again, I pushed it back until it hid Lena from sight. Plunging out, I smashed Chakri with my shoulder and kept going. But Gonzales was too fast.
He grabbed my arm and had it twisted up behind my back before I could kick or claw. My shoulder felt like it was being ripped off. I kicked at his leg but he lifted me up by my twisted arm until I screamed.
I heard shouts and the thud of heavy shoes speeding up the stairs. A man in a blue windbreaker burst through the door and pointed a gun at us.
“Fort Lauderdale Police!” he shouted.
Another cop came in fast and aimed his gun. “Drop the girl. Get down! On the floor. Now!”
Gonzales threw me toward them. I landed on my hands and knees, groaning. Gonzales turned and ran. Disbelief filled Chakri’s eyes. His gaze swiveled from me to the cops. Gonzales bolted into a room at the end of the corridor.
Chakri ran after him. I pushed myself up with my good arm, sprinted forward, then dove at Chakri. My tinted glasses sailed through the air as I crashed into him. We tumbled to the floor. I could hear a cop yelling.
“On the floor, face down! Do it!”
I did, and the cops were all over us. The last thing I needed was my hands shoved behind my back and my wrists bound with plastic cuffs. But it was good to watch Chakri get trussed up like a chicken, until a cop pushed me face-first back on the floor. Raising my head a fraction, I saw Rick Harman and a blond female cop enter the hall. I remembered her—Officer Hayes, from that first night on Hallandale Boulevard. The nice cop. Before the bitch Bailey had arrived.
“Rick!” I called. I dropped my head and felt the carpet pile burn my cheek.
“Nikki? What the hell?”
I heard him rushing toward me. “This one’s all right. Get those cuffs off.”
Someone did, and Rick helped me into a sitting position.
“Where’s Carla?” Fear rattled his voice. “Is she all right?”
“Yeah, she’s outside in her rental.”
Rick’s cell vibrated and he turned to answer it. I glanced at Chakri. His eyes were so malevolent, I wanted to scoot backwards. Instead, I held his gaze. Why hadn’t I noticed before? His face was immobile because it was stretched tight from plastic surgery. I smiled.
“They’re going to have fun when they run your fingerprints, aren’t they?”
If he hadn’t been cuffed, he would have hit me. My smile grew wider.
Two cops came out of the room where Gonzales had fled.
“You won’t believe this shit,” one said. “That room connects to the building next door. The guy is long gone.”
“Fucking Gonzales!” his buddy said. “These rooms are loaded with underage girls.”
I could see police leading young women from some of the rooms. I rubbed my shoulder. Then Rick’s call ended, and he turned back to me.
“Are you okay?” he asked carefully.
“I think so.”
“Damn it! I told you two to stay out of this. You’re lucky you’re not dead! What the fuck did you think you were doing?”
I shook my head, clearing fog from the pain in my shoulder. “I was looking for…Lena!” I jumped up and dashed to her room. The fat guy on the bed still snored. Behind the door, Lena crouched where I’d left her.
“The police are here,” I said. “You’re safe now.”
She gave me a pitying look. “You don’t know anything. No one is ever safe.”
In spite of what she said, her eyes still held a glimmer of hope, a wistful expression like that on the carving of the mermaid. Still, I didn’t know how to answer her, and didn’t because Rick and Officer Hayes stepped into the room.
“Is this Lena?” he asked me.
“Yes.”
“We’ll take care of her. Officer Hayes, why don’t you put Lena with the other girls?”
“Where is she going? What about Jade?” I asked Rick. “Where are you taking them?”
“Nikki, we’re looking for Jade,” Rick said.
Office Hayes gave me the sympathetic smile I remembered from the murder scene. “The girls are downstairs. We’re sorting it out with Fort Lauderdale PD.”
Rick turned and spoke to two uniformed officers. “Get this guy,” he said, pointing to Chakri, “out of here. And somebody wake up sleeping beauty here.” He waved toward the fat man still snoring on the bed.
Hayes led Lena away, and while Rick and the two officers were occupied, I eased into the hall and hurried toward the room where Gonzales had escaped. Empty. Turning, I went toward the stairs, checking every room along the way. No sign of Jade. The cops had cleared most of the girls out, and the male rats had long since fled the sinking ship.
I raced down the stairs into the event room and stared. The place was a zoo. I saw Pit Face in handcuffs, some of the johns still holding their shoes, cops everywhere, attendees herded into one corner, and the girls.
Someone had given them blankets. Officer Hayes and several female cops were with them. I drifted closer. Not one of the girls had a seahorse tattoo. Why?
I stared at the pretty young faces. Eyes unfocused, expressions strained, they were barely more than children. I kept searching.
Jade wasn’t there.
CHAPTER 39
The night in Fort Lauderdale seemed to go on forever. After the cops finally rounded everyone up, they took Carla and me to the Lauderdale police station on Broward Boulevard to give our statements.
Though I didn’t see Lena again, I passed Chakri sitting in the Vice Department hallway. He wore handcuffs and sat with a smarmy looking, slick-haired man who wore a large diamond pinky ring. Probably his lawyer. A large and manly woman officer with cold eyes stood over them. I couldn’t resist a little finger wave at Chakri.
By the time Carla dropped me off at the Sand Castle, I barely had time for a shower before heading to the track. The night left me exhausted, but underneath it was a strange energy, possibly fueled by the powerful rage I’d experienced at Worldwide.
At the barn, I got a good gallop into La Bruja first, then left her in Orlando’s competent hands while I took Diablo out. In my head, tapes from the previous night played repeatedly, making it hard to stay in the present until Diablo snaked his head toward another horse that galloped past and tried to savage it with his teeth.
I snatched Diablo’s head back with the reins, pulling him away.
“Hey, watch it!” the rider yelled at me.
“Sorry,” I called to the guy’s retreating back.
When we got around the track and back to the barn in one piece, Orlando took Diablo from me and started to lead him away.
“Hey,” I said. “You hear any more from Inspector Stonehouse?”
“No, just what he say before. ‘Stay out of trouble.’”
“Good.” I replied. Our stable needed Orlando more than ever, but right then he needed to keep Diablo moving, so I walked with them for a ways.
“When we race La Bruja tomorrow,” I said, “we’ll need help. You used to work for Tom Smith didn’t you?” I’d only met Smith briefly. Training in the next barn over, he had a big operation with two licensed assistants.
“Sí,” Orlando replied.
With Jim absent, I had to find a licensed trainer to saddle La Bruja in the paddock before her race. I couldn’t do it. I’d be busy in the role of jockey.
“Do you think someone over there could saddle La Bruja tomorrow?”
“I will ask. Should be no problem. I let you know.”
I smiled. “Thank you, Orlando.” He was a gift, and reminded me a little of our Maryland groom, Mello. He had Mello’s uncanny ability to find what you needed, sometimes almost before you asked.
With Ambivalent gone, Orlando and I got the morning finished up fairly quick, but I was dragging. As soon as I got into my car, I turned my phone off, drove to my room, and after a hot shower, crashed into oblivion.
* * * *
I’ve heard people can process events and make decisions while sleeping, and it’s probably true. When I woke up, something inside me had changed, and the energy I’d felt that morning had returned and intensified.
I lay still a moment and thought about my past, about my mom dying and leaving me with Stanley. The bastard had left me feeling guilty and unclean for years. But had I been any more responsible for ending up with him than those girls at Worldwide were responsible
for being made into prostitutes? No. The realization hit me hard, snapping a mental chain.
It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t do anything wrong.
Suddenly wracked by an explosion of sobs, I grabbed my pillow and clutched it like a life raft. I let the storm rage and when it was over, I felt cleansed, healed.
I lay still a while, then got up. Several tissues and a face wash later, I checked phone messages. Nothing important, and no message from Will.
But I’d wanted a message from him, so I called him.
When he answered, I said, “I’d like to see you.”
“Sure.” I could almost hear his slow smile. “How about an early dinner? Billy’s Stone Crab. My treat.”
He wasn’t shy about spending the money he’d won in a recent race. Wild horses couldn’t keep me from an offer like that.
* * * *
At the restaurant on Ocean Boulevard, guests can either ride an elevator to the second floor’s swanky restaurant or sit on the veranda in one of six booths next to the Intracoastal waterway. A no brainer for me.
“The veranda,” I told Will.
He smiled.
I climbed into the wood-slat-and-green upholstered booth, surprised when my movement caused the bench to swing back and forth.
A waiter hovered by us, holding menus.
“I’ll sit next to her,” Will told him. Then he stepped on the booth’s bottom rail, plopped down next to me, and grinned as the bench slid back. “Dine and glide.”
The waiter handed us menus.
“Do you have Four Roses single barrel?” Will asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s great. Bring two, on the rocks,” he said glancing at me.
Across the ribbon of Intracoastal, a heron stood still as a yard ornament, his long legs on the muddy bank, his feathers silhouetted by the sun that lay on the western horizon. The water smelled faintly of shellfish and gasoline, and in the distance I could hear the engine of a boat chugging toward us.
Our waiter brought the bourbon, and I took a sip.
“Firewater,” I said to Will.
“You don’t like it?”
“I love it!”
I sipped more and told him about the previous night in Fort Lauderdale. He listened intently.