Silent is the Grave

by Candle Sutton

  Valid question. “Is the building leased or owned?”

  “Property records show it’s owned by a corporation called Celestial Enterprises. I couldn’t find any other trace of the company other than that one building.”

  Celestial Enterprises. Zander made a mental note to look it up later.

  Symonds’ eyes gleamed as she ticked off the third finger. “Third, that building’s down by the water. That’s prime real estate. Worth a fortune. How do they afford that if they only take two clients at a time?”

  “Ridiculously high prices?” True as that might be, they all knew that wouldn’t be enough to cut it. Might be worth trying to get ahold of the company’s financials.

  And maybe track down some of the people from the photographs. Not that any of them would likely talk, especially if there were illegal activities going on, but maybe they’d get lucky. Or, at the very least, find a weak link they could break.

  If this place was a front for a human trafficking location, a waterfront location would be very convenient. Shipping containers and cargo vessels were popular options for smuggling people into the country illegally.

  Either way, it all added up to something worth checking out.

  “So these men that go in,” Morgan pointed to the picture on top, “Did you ever see them leave?”

  “Some of them. Most were there for an hour or two.” Symonds’ expression indicated she believed that fact alone proved her point.

  “Did they ever take anyone out with them?” Morgan asked.

  “Always alone.”

  Zander leaned back in his chair.

  So. If it was trafficking, people weren’t being sold. Prostituted no doubt, but not sold.

  Unless they were arranging for delivery later. “Did you ever see any vans or trucks leave the parking garage? Or any vehicles with extra dark windows?”

  “No, but we weren’t always there.” Symonds exhaled a sharp breath. “They coulda moved people any time. We were only there a few hours.”

  And unfortunately, with that underground garage, it’d be easy to keep their activities under wraps. They could move people in and out without anyone noticing.

  They needed eyes in that garage.

  But that’d take a warrant or an undercover op, both of which would require a whole lot more evidence than they currently had in order to get approved.

  He’d reach out to some of the guys in the department. Maybe someone had an informant who would know something.

  He jotted a note.

  “It all right if we keep these?” Morgan gestured to the file she’d brought while asking the question in a way that said there was only one right answer.

  Symonds nodded. “I made a copy for my organization to follow up on.”

  While Morgan escorted her out, Zander scrutinized the photos.

  A face popped out.

  It was the guy from the alley! One of the guys they had in custody.

  Maybe it was time for another conversation with Mr. Talkative. Not that the guy would likely give them anything, but maybe the pictures would disarm him enough that he’d let something slip.

  Like maybe if this was what had gotten Jessie killed.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  A shiver rocked Monica’s body. The temperature had dropped low last night. Too low to be out in the elements without something for warmth, but she hadn’t been able to grab her blanket or anything else before the cops swarmed in on her safe place.

  Well, what had been her safe place, anyway. It was compromised now.

  She could never go back.

  By now they probably had the drugs, too. So much for selling those to get a little cash to live on.

  She should leave town. Go someplace where no one knew her, someplace those guys couldn’t find her.

  But that took money, which was something she didn’t have.

  Maybe Elly would help her. If she could find her, that is.

  Monica’s legs felt made of ice as she unfolded herself from her scrunched up position by the wall. She jiggled her toes, fire tingling through them as the blood started moving.

  How would she find Elly?

  The youth center was the obvious choice, but she couldn’t go back there. The cops were looking for her. Even if they weren’t there, Betty would call and rat her out. She’d done it once before.

  For that matter, how did she know Elly wouldn’t turn her in? Elly seemed awfully tight with that one cop.

  Although he didn’t seem so bad. He’d almost died protecting her. Or was he just protecting Elly?

  Yeah, that seemed more likely.

  Still, maybe she should go to the cops. Would it be so bad?

  The man in the uniform, plunging the knife into Jessie, invaded her mind. Yes, going to the cops could be bad. Very bad.

  Maybe she could convince Elly to keep the cops out of it.

  Wrapping her arms around her stomach, she trudged in the general direction of the youth center. She had to trust someone.

  She just hoped she didn’t end up like Jessie.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  “Ain’t got nothin’ to say, homes.” Carlos Montoya leaned back in the plastic chair, arms crossed over his chest. One of his legs tapped a spastic rhythm on the tile beneath his feet.

  “Evidence says you do.” Morgan leaned across the table, towering over Carlos.

  Carlos’ eyes flicked up to Morgan and he shifted in his chair.

  Good. About time that punk started sweating this a little.

  Although for someone who could stab a cop, Zander had expected a better façade.

  Morgan smacked the photo of Carlos at the entrance to Tranquility Day Spa on the table. “Tell me about this place.”

  Barely glancing at the photo, Carlos muttered a derogatory slur in Spanish.

  Zander leaned his elbows on the table and replied in Spanish. “You going to translate that one or do you want me to?”

  Leveling a glare Zander’s direction, Carlos pressed his lips together.

  Zander switched back to English. “Look, we know you were there, so how about you tell us why.”

  “What, ‘cause I ain’t a chick, I can’t have good skin?”

  Morgan snorted. “You really expect us to believe that?”

  “Believe what you want, yo. I’m done talkin’.”

  “Fine.” Morgan took a seat and folded his hands on the table in front of him. “Then listen. I think that place is a front for Alma Negra’s activities. Maybe some drug running or prostitution.”

  A pause.

  No response from Carlos to indicate assent or surprise.

  “Or maybe human trafficking.”

  A flicker. As much as he’d tried, Carlos’ eyes gave him away. The slight widening, which lasted only a fraction of a second, showed his surprise, then the tightening of his lips revealed his displeasure.

  They’d hit on something there.

  “You’ve got a crazy imagination, homes.”

  “I’ll tell you what’s crazy. What your crew’s going to do to you when they find out you ratted them out.”

  “I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’.” Spittle flew as Carlos spat the words at them.

  “I know it and you know it, but your crew doesn’t.” Morgan’s tone dropped. “Here’s how it’s going to go down. I’ll keep you in here for a while, maybe a few hours, and tell the guards you’re giving us good intel. I’m betting by the time you make it back to lockup there’ll be a price on your head.”

  “You think they’re gonna buy that?”

  “I think they’re too cautious not to.” He paused. “Or you can really give us intel and we can keep you safe.”

  A sheen of sweat coated his forehead. “I ain’t no snitch.”

  “Bummer for you that they won’t know that.”

  Carlos slammed his hand against the table. “They’ll know it. No one will buy that I sold out my own fam–”

  He pressed his lips into a smoldering scowl and leaned back.

  Fa
mily. The uncompleted word hung like smoke in the silence.

  Zander studied Carlos. “You got family in the Alma?”

  “Alma is my family.”

  Too bad they didn’t know if he meant that literally or figuratively.

  “Until you become a liability. Like Hector? Or my brother?” Crud. He hadn’t meant to say that last one. But since finding the connection with the murder method and weapon earlier, the idea had consumed his thoughts.

  Carlos’ eyebrows scrunched over his nose. “Your brother?”

  Well, it was out there now. Maybe it’d buy him some cred with this thug.

  Not likely, but worth a try.

  “My brother was Javier Salinas. He was murdered four years ago.”

  Recognition flickered across Carlos’ face as Carlos stared at him. Family resemblance had been strong, in spite of the years between them. It was little wonder that Carlos was seeing the connection now.

  “They ain’t gonna touch me. And you ain’t gettin’ a thing outta me.” He refolded his arms across his chest, indifference settling over his face like a mask. “I want my lawyer.”

  “You got it.” Morgan’s chair scraped across the tile as he stood. “Good luck surviving in there. I wouldn’t place odds on you lasting the night.”

  Morgan stalked out of the interrogation room. Shooting one last glance at the sulking gang banger, Zander followed, joining Morgan at the observation window outside the room.

  “You betting on him tipping off his gang and them trying to move shop tonight?”

  Morgan offered a curt nod. “I’m betting something will happen. We’ll just watch and see.”

  Fourteen

  Monica trailed Elly down the sidewalk, keeping a few people and half a block between them at all times. At least that hair made her easy to spot.

  Where was Elly going?

  While Monica’s stomach had ceased rumbling hours ago, the fatigue and weakness had only increased. Wherever Elly was going, she hoped it wasn’t far. She didn’t think she could make it much longer. It’d been too long since she’d had something to eat.

  She ducked into an alley as Elly stopped walking. Peeking around the corner, she realized it was a bus stop.

  If Elly got onto a bus, she’d lose her. As much as she’d wanted to wait until Elly got to her house or wherever she was staying, it wasn’t going to happen. She had to approach her now.

  Rounding the corner, Monica dodged the people milling about and approached Elly from behind.

  A tremor shook her arm as she reached toward Elly.

  Was she sure about this?

  No. But she couldn’t keep on as she had been.

  Elly was the closest thing she had to a friend right now and she genuinely seemed to care.

  A bus rumbled down the block. The small group of people around her seemed to press closer to the curb.

  Her fingers made contact with the soft cotton of Elly’s shirt.

  Elly turned. “Monica! Are you okay?”

  Not okay. Definitely not okay.

  Monica whipped her head from side to side, scanning the faces around them. No one she recognized. Certainly no sign of Fernando.

  Then again, Fernando had been arrested.

  The reminder offered little comfort. He had buddies, some of whom she wouldn’t recognize. Besides, didn’t guys like him manage to get off on technicalities?

  The bus’s brakes squealed as it lurched to a stop beside them.

  Monica looked at Elly, who hadn’t moved. “Were you serious? When you said you could help me?”

  “Yes.” Elly wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Come with me.”

  They boarded the bus, Elly paying both their fares. Two adjoining seats sat empty toward the back. By the time she sank into one, Monica’s legs felt about as strong as the unformed muscles of the baby in her belly.

  Elly, in the aisle seat, turned to face her. “How are you?”

  “Hungry.” The word spilled out reflexively. “Scared. I don’t wanna end up like Jessie.”

  Elly took her hand. “You’re cold.”

  “That, too.” Warmth tingled through her fingers as Elly rubbed her hand.

  “Would you like to stay with me? We have a spare room. You’ll be safe there.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. How long had it been since she’d slept in a bed? How long since she’d been able to feel safe enough to really sleep?

  Wait. Elly had said “we.”

  Her eyes dropped to Elly’s hand. No ring. “A-are you… married?”

  “No. I live with my brothers.”

  Brothers. Men.

  No. No way.

  Tears streaked down her cheeks. “I-I can’t.”

  A pause. Then Elly leaned close. “You have nothing to fear from them. They won’t hurt you.”

  How had…?

  It didn’t matter how Elly had known. What mattered was if Elly’s words were true.

  Elly had shown nothing but concern for her. Why would that change now?

  “Come meet them. If you don’t feel safe, then you don’t have to stay. I’ll give you food and bus fare and you can go wherever you want.”

  Maybe out of the city?

  At this point it didn’t matter.

  She nodded. If for no reason other than the food, it was worth the risk.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  “You live on a boat?”

  Monica stared at the docks. The last time she’d been on a boat, she thought she’d been coming to freedom.

  Instead, she’d been forced into slavery.

  A shudder traveled up her spine. She didn’t want anything to do with boats or the water. Not now. Or ever.

  “I do.” Elly pointed to a large boat at the end of the pier. “On that one.”

  She could barely make out any details in the quickly settling dusk, but it seemed pretty nice.

  Lights glowed from the cabin. It looked welcoming.

  And nothing like the freighter that had hauled her and the dozens of other girls over. Maybe not all boats were bad.

  As if reading her thoughts, Elly placed a light hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be safe there.”

  A wind howled off the bay, whipping through her sweatshirt.

  The boat should at least be warm. And there was Elly’s promise of food.

  “How do we get there?”

  “Through that gate over there.” Elly gestured toward a gate at the opposite end of the pier.

  A gate. That was good, right? It meant that if anyone had followed them, they couldn’t just walk on board.

  Not that she’d seen anyone, but Fernando and his crew could be sneaky.

  Elly’s brothers might also be a good thing. They sure wouldn’t let anyone like Fernando hurt their sister, would they?

  Maybe that same protection would extend to her.

  As long as they weren’t like almost every other guy she’d met since landing in this awful city.

  She forced her feet to follow Elly, who stopped by the gate long enough to punch in a code. A loud buzz made her jump, the sound piercing the quiet night.

  The gate swung on squeaky hinges.

  Monica closed the gate firmly behind them, then tested it to make sure it had latched. No point taking chances.

  Most of the boats they passed looked devoid of life, like dark monsters rising out of the bay.

  A shudder tickled down her spine. Those monsters couldn’t be any worse than the ones she’d already survived.

  Elly’s boat looked even larger up close.

  What would it be like to live somewhere that you could just sail away anytime you wanted? Looked like she was about to find out.

  She followed Elly’s example, stepping onto a platform at the rear of the boat then taking the stairs up to the upper deck. Once on deck, she turned to look at the city. Lights glowed from the various buildings and high-rises. It was hard to believe such evil could lurk beneath, but she knew the truth all too well.

  Trailing Elly across the dec
k, her eyes locked on the two men she could see inside the lit cabin. One an African American who was so tall his head almost touched the cabin’s ceiling, the other a Middle Eastern man who was significantly shorter but still larger than she was.

  These were Elly’s brothers?

  Her stomach revolted, and not from the rough waves churning beneath the boat.

  This felt wrong.

  What had she done? Could she make a run for it? Would Elly try to stop her?

  Elly was already pushing the door open. “Hi guys. This is Monica. She needed a safe place to stay.”

  Safe. But was it really?

  The scent of warm bread teased her senses.

  Even as she told her feet to run away, she found herself moving toward the lit warmth of the cabin.

  The African American man approached, his hand extended. “Monica. Welcome. I’m Josiah.”

  The words, warm with sincerity, oozed through her hesitation. Had anyone welcomed her anywhere before? Ever?

  “We’re so glad you decided to stay here.” His eyes remained on her face and lacked the feral glow she was accustomed to seeing.

  The other man approached, also offering his hand. “Hezekiah, but everyone calls me Zeke. I see now why God had me make extra food for dinner. He knew we’d be having company.”

  Dinner.

  Her stomach growled loudly in the confined space.

  Josiah laughed, a rich hearty sound that came from someplace deep within. “I’m with you. Shall we eat?”

  She nodded. It didn’t even matter what they were having. She was hungry enough to eat most anything.

  “Go ahead and relax and Zeke and I will bring dinner up.” Josiah smiled.

  In spite of herself, she felt herself relaxing. These guys were all right. She could feel it.

  Josiah especially. There was something about him that put her at ease.

  She plopped down on a padded bench and watched as the two disappeared down a set of stairs at the far edge of the room.

  Elly scooted onto the bench beside her. “How are you doing?”