by Stacy Green
“And you know this how?”
I scowled. “I just told you.”
He shook his head, stubborn to the bitter end of the building argument. “You’re just guessing. And fixating on something you can’t change.”
And so we came full circle. “I can too change it. Maybe only for a handful of kids, but I’ll change their lives for the better.”
“Unless they end up in jail or back on the streets in worse situations.” Chris heaved the same sigh I heard every time we had this conversation. “You’re right about one thing: this is bigger than you realize. But not because it’s some kind of massive network. It’s bigger than you realize because you’re not going to kill just one guy and move on. You kill one, there’s more to deal with. Some who might want revenge. And who knows how many kids that have been brainwashed into thinking they only have one option in life. You can’t just drop some poison and then move on to the next with this one. Are you really prepared to deal with the collateral damage?”
“I’ll deal with whatever comes my way.” His warming anger electrified the car’s already hot exterior. I loosened my scarf, pulled off my winter hat. His tense posture latched onto my nerves, alerting my defenses until I was primed for battle.
He snorted. “Except the promise you made to me.”
And there it was. We’d gone around about this so many times. He thought he could convince me to see it his way, and every time he pushed the issue, I stepped farther back. But I didn’t want to argue. “There hasn’t been any sign of your mother in months. I can’t just make up leads to follow.”
“You’re not really looking.” He wasn’t entirely wrong. But I had Kelly keeping an eye out. We’d hacked into Mother Mary’s last known credit card account, but it hadn’t been used in nearly a year. We didn’t even know if she was still in Pennsylvania, and the police weren’t faring any better. Mother Mary knew how to disappear.
“If we get a tip, we’ll follow it.”
“No you won’t.” His eyes darkened. “You’re too fixated on this trafficking thing.”
I probably was. But he didn’t have any room to talk. His obsession with his mother invaded every conversation we had, even when Chris said nothing. I saw it in the shadows that passed through his eyes. Heard the sudden exhaustion in his tone, as if a memory had walloped him and he needed to rest. But I didn’t think finding Mary would give him the peace he longed for, and some part of me wanted to protect him from going down a road he could never escape.
“Have you talked to your brother?”
Justin, the younger brother Chris had only recently discovered, was the only person who could truly understand the shame and hatred Chris endured. And that was exactly the reason Chris avoided him. As I’d expected, he slammed his hand down on the child locks. He stared straight ahead while I exited the car.
I leaned into the still open door. “Listen, even though I didn’t need your help tonight, I appreciate your being there for me. Really.”
He grunted, still not looking at me.
I sighed. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” I shut the door, and he peeled off.
The biting cold wedged my guilt aside as I fumbled with my keys. The car’s cold engine turned over three times before finally grinding to life. Wrapping my arms around myself, I waited for some sign of warmth.
Tomorrow, I’d go to work like nothing had happened. Imagining Sarah’s reaction made my blood pump a little harder. I hoped she was scared, pacing, wondering where her phone had gone and waiting for the police to knock on her door.
The police would be a blessing for Sarah.
5
Our justice system is a convoluted mess of red-tape and personal agendas. Every politician I’ve encountered–no matter the level of government–was staunch in his belief that his plans for change were vital to our government’s survival. He championed his platform everywhere he went, and the really good ones managed to convince the masses they weren’t after power and glory but were just trying to help the little guy. Middle America, as the latest catchphrase goes. And some politicians really meant that. But every single one had a pet cause attached to their docket. Most of them were of little use to me, but Senator Mark Coleman was a man who could help my own agenda. After weeks of asking for a meeting, I’d finally been given my shot.
Most people didn’t intimidate me, but sitting across from a man like Senator Coleman wasn’t an everyday occurrence. A middle-aged, Democratic dynamo, Senator Coleman was equally loved by the press and the voters, and he appeared to possess more of a moral center than most politicians. Hopefully that was more than a political shell.
Still nearly as fit as his days as a star high school quarterback, Coleman’s Nordic ancestry was obvious. Thinning, wispy blond hair and fair skin the winter hadn’t been kind to. His left cheek peeled from windburn. But his fine features were pleasant to look at, and his voice had the ring of authority that every good politician has.
“I’m sorry you had to wait this morning, Miss Kendall.” The Senator’s smile seemed meant to set me at ease.
“Please, call me Lucy. And it’s fine. I know you’re a busy man.”
“I appreciate your understanding.” He rested his arms on the tidy desk giving me his full attention. “I understand you want to talk about my human trafficking task force.”
Two years ago, the Senator formed PCAT, the Pennsylvania Coalition Against Trafficking. His efforts resulted in the state passing a bill to create a cohesive legal definition of human trafficking, something Pennsylvania had been sorely lacking. Now PCAT consisted of over one thousand volunteers–civilians, Federal and Custom Agents and law enforcement officers–across the state, and Assistant District Attorney Hale had heard rumblings of the group expanding into Maryland and West Virginia.
“Yes.” I put my carefully practiced speech into action. “Senator, you’ve done amazing things for trafficking victims. The bill you lobbied for now gives victims a better chance at putting their abusers behind bars. And that’s incredibly admirable. But up to this point, most of your investigations have focused on adult women. You’ve barely touched the tip of the iceberg of child sex trafficking.”
Senator Coleman nodded vigorously. “You’re absolutely right, and that’s something I’ve been working on with Customs and Immigration.”
“It’s not just immigrants being trafficked, sir. There are children born in this country who end up in this horrible situation. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
“The Richardson case,” Senator Coleman said. “ADA Hale apprised me of your perseverance in saving that child. Considering your involvement and your work as a private investigator, I’m willing to share some information. I checked in with the federal agents handling the case, and they’re making progress with the trafficking ring. Thanks to the information found on Steve Simon’s computers, they’ve infiltrated a group working well below the surface web.”
“The dark web?” I asked. “I thought law enforcement didn’t have much hope of infiltrating thanks to privacy laws.”
“Yes and no. The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children has been a great resource,” Coleman said. “And getting into Simon’s personal files allowed us a starting point. The FBI were able to encrypt several of his images with technology that tracks active downloads. They’ve been able to arrest a few of his cohorts, and we’re hoping it’s just the beginning.”
“I’m happy to hear that. Kailey deserves more justice than Steve’s arrest.” Now was the time to tread carefully. Waltzing in here and telling the Senator to change up his task force required finesse. “I’ve been doing a lot of undercover work lately, and I’ve discovered additional trafficking here in the city. That’s the reason I’m being so presumptuous and suggesting changes to your task force.”
The senator raised his eyebrows. “Your methods?”
“I’m a private investigator.” And not the first one to cross the lines of my profession, I wanted to add. I just do a better job of it th
an most. “I can’t share my resources, which I’m sure you understand. But I think after my assistance in finding Kailey Richardson, I’ve proved I’ve got the sources.”
“Which may be illegal.” He gave me a well-oiled smile.
I returned the savvy smile, but I could feel the corners of my mouth drooping down, unable to hide my disdain. “The same could be said about many government operations.”
Coleman’s pale blue eyes became unsettling the longer I stared. They reminded me of the watery eyes of my sister’s corpse, blank with death. He used this to his advantage. He gazed over the desk at me with a pleasant, if not slightly vacant, expression. Those eyes that looked as if a mortician needed to sew them shut. I finally conceded and looked away.
“Point taken,” Coleman said. “You’re suggesting changes to my task force because of your findings?”
This time, I focused on the bridge of his nose, where his glasses had left a nice indentation. “I think if you look at the information I’ve gathered, you’ll see a Philadelphia-centered location is warranted.”
He scratched his chin, looking at me with those murky eyes. “It’s not a bad idea. What are your leads?”
“Four different businesses.” I gave him the list I’d spent half the night organizing. Three months’ worth of research by Kelly and me, all handed over to someone I still wasn’t entirely sure I could trust. The act made me feel slightly sick, but I didn’t have the time or resources to track them all down myself, and the needs of the victims came first. “Senator, if you got behind this, we could make a difference in the city.”
He read the list, his forehead wrinkling, making his winter-abused skin look even worse. “Exhale Mind and Body Salon has asterisks. Why?”
I retrieved the bagged phone from my purse. Last night, Kelly had gotten all the information she could off it. I explained to him about following Sarah and the two kids to the hotel. “I admit to going undercover at Exhale because of the leads mentioned in the list. After several weeks of careful observation, I realized the owner of the salon conducted private calls on a cellphone she never allowed anyone to see. Last night, I took the phone.”
Another raise of his bushy eyebrows, a glimmer of appreciation in his creepy eyes. “You stole it.”
“I did. And I was able to intercept an exchange between an adult male and a minor female at the Rattner Hotel in North Philadelphia. The man ran, but the girl confirmed the owner Sarah Jones was a go-between for a much larger network.”
“Sarah Jones.” The Senator scribbled on the printout, his fine point pen making rough scratching sounds. “And the girl’s name?”
“She refused to give it.” I wasn’t ready to hand Riley over yet. “Inside the phone is a very complex coding system. I was lucky to figure out enough to intercept the meeting last night. I’m hoping your resources will have better luck.”
He turned the phone over in his hand. “I’ve got a specialist who might be able to find more information. But what you’re talking about is the prostitution of minor children. An abomination and criminal offense to be sure, but defining them as sex trafficking victims is difficult. Not to mention you’ve given me stolen merchandise.”
I did my best to look contrite, glancing down at my folded hands. “I realize that, and I understand if you don’t want to get involved, but I assure you, I’ve done my research. This phone is part of an active network I believe can be traced back to the African American boy left at the Greencastle Fire Department a couple of months ago. Are you familiar with that case?”
The Senator nodded. “Very much so. How are you tying the boy with this thing at Exhale? The little boy didn’t have any idea who brought him to Maryland, or who purchased him, or where he came from. He’d been blindfolded during the entire journey.”
Sweet Aron. After promising to keep our secret about putting the man to sleep, Aron had been mostly silent on the drive to the fire station, eating his sandwich and staring at me with those big eyes. I smiled and played the radio, chattering about kid things. He seemed content, even waving goodbye to me as he walked the remaining steps to the station. The satisfaction of doing the right thing lingered with me for a few days, and a fresh wave surged over me. I sat up straighter, bringing myself back to the Senator’s questioning eyes. “After I received my first tip about Exhale, I was still trying to decide what to do. Then a friend with connections in Hagerstown told me the boy found at the fire station talked about going to Exhale. Given the evidence I’ve just given you, I’m not sure that can be ruled as coincidence.”
“That’s still a stretch. The child could have misunderstood.” Senator Coleman balanced the slender pen on his large, farmhand-looking fingers. “You have a lot of connections, it seems.”
He should have just stamped the question on his forehead. My connections could be useful to him, so why don’t I share them? I diverted the implication and pushed ahead. “He could have misunderstood, I suppose. Is it possible to question him?”
Another pretend smile, acknowledging the unspoken no in my answer. “His foster parents are being investigated, and he’s been removed to another part of the country.” The politician reared his head as I assumed he eventually would. “It would take some doing, and I’m not sure it’s worth messing with the red tape.”
“I accept that,” I said. “But I won’t accept you don’t have enough evidence to warrant your attention.”
Coleman ignored the direct challenge. “This information wasn’t in the papers, but the boy claimed a female FBI Agent by the name of Rex left him at the fire station.” He leaned back in his chair, regarding me with an eel-like smile. “There’s no record of that agent.”
“Really?” I pretended to be surprised and not disturbed by the innuendo in the Senator’s voice. “Did he give any other information?”
Kelly had scoured every law enforcement source she had in the tri-state area. There’d been no mention of the boy talking about the agent putting his captor to sleep. But I’d like to be sure little Aron had kept his promise.
“No. Just that the agent retrieved him from a bad man and brought him there. Since the boy was brought across state lines, the FBI took over the case.”
I waited. Bob Stewart’s body had been found nearly frozen solid in his semi two days after his death. Last I’d heard, Hagerstown Police and the Maryland State Police considered Stewart’s death as suspicious due to his extremely low blood sugar. Two overworked counties in two different states had yet to match their cases together.
Senator Coleman lifted the papers and stared at them for a long, silent minute. Finally, he set them back down on his desk and looked me in the eye with a direct gaze that sent chills up my spine. “God bless whoever tracked down that child and delivered him. She clearly isn’t afraid of the consequences.”
I said nothing, nodding in agreement and preparing to volley back if the Senator outright confronted me.
He nudged the phone with his pen. “I can’t say you’re wrong about the local situation. But creating a team for something like this doesn’t happen overnight.”
I nodded in understanding like I knew he wanted me to. “Of course. But this is your pet cause. And you’re up for re-election in less than a year. Think of what cleaning up Philadelphia would mean to voters.”
He looked away, debating again. “All right. I’ve got some customs agents in Philadelphia who will hopefully have time to look into these allegations. I’ll give them your list, and if they find anything at these locations, I’ll start pushing for the task force. But it’s going to take some time. As for this phone, you realize I’m taking a risk keeping it.”
I took the chance to say what we both already knew. So easy to read, even easier to manage. In less than five minutes of conversation, he’d revealed to me that politics were at least as important as his pet cause. He’d practically handed me my best bargaining chip. I rose to leave. “You’re an upstanding politician. If you say you didn’t know it was stolen, the police will believe yo
u. And we’re talking about the greater good here.”
Senator Coleman stood as well, extending his hand. “Duly noted. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Lucy. It’s people like you who will make the difference in the war on these horrific crimes.”
People like me. What if there were more people like me? What if zero tolerance laws were finally passed against sexual predators and actually enforced? How different would the next generation grow up?
The senator escorted me to the lobby. He touched my elbow–an old-fashioned gentleman’s gesture. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Sir.” A pleasant faced twenty-something man waved from behind a desk loaded with odds and ends. “I need you to sign these forms for the budget meeting.” Offering me a shy smile, he hurried around the desk and handed the senator the forms.
“Thanks, Jake.” Coleman swiftly signed the papers without reading them. “Lucy, this is my top aide, Jake Meyer. He’s a grad student at Penn State and the most organized person on the planet. My life would be a mess without him.”
I smiled warmly at Jake. Shorter than me, with soft brown eyes and olive skin, he looked like he still belonged in high school. Then again, maybe I was just too far removed from his age group to realize I was the one looking older while they stayed the same. “Do you work with private citizens? I could certainly use some organizing.”
He glanced between the Senator and me, tugging uncomfortably at the carefully knotted tie resting snuggly beneath his burgundy sweater vest. “I’m sure a lady like you doesn’t need my help.”
“Only a lady on the surface, Jake. The rest of me is a mess.”
He laughed, a breathy trill that wasn’t at all masculine. “Well, the surface is sparkling.” Realizing his cheesy line, Jake flushed to the roots of his dark hair.
I played with my earring and smiled. “Thank you. That’s the best compliment I’ve had today.”
Nodding, he flushed again.
“Here you go.” Senator Coleman handed back the signed papers. “Again, Lucy, I’ll be in touch. If you need anything else, call my office directly. I’ll make sure Jake and the others know to put you through.”