People are going to pay for what they have done here.
Charges will be filed.
And the media will be notified.
Everyone who came here and did bad things here will have their name lit up brightly.
My chest tightens up at the audacity of what I am about to do. It’s going to be hard. I myself will likely be questioned and interrogated and investigated.
But I am prepared to tell them the truth about everything. I want my father’s name to be tarnished forever.
I want him to be synonymous with all of those other monsters throughout the world that caused so much suffering.
Hitler. Stalin. Pol Pot. Kim Jong-Un.
“What if it doesn’t work?” Everly asks after a moment.
There’s a look of concern on her face.
“It has to,” I say.
“But whatever is on those recordings…those men do not want that out.”
“Yes, I know that. And they will do anything to stop us.”
She shakes her head.
What was just a moment of excitement and opportunity suddenly morphs into something else.
I know why she’s worried. It’s not every day that you have the chance to ruin the lives of five heads of state, at least ten of their second and third in command and countless other important figures.
My father made connections with many powerful men, including five billionaires from Forbes Magazine’s Richest People list, and generals, and admirals from the armed services.
Obviously, I haven’t seen all the recordings - that’s one of the things we’ll be doing in DC.
But I know who is on there because I’ve seen the people in real life.
My father couldn’t resist the opportunity to wine and dine them during their stays here.
“Our only advantage is that no one knows anything about what happened there yet,” I say, reaching back and taking her hand in mine. “No one knows that my father and Abbott are dead. I’m not sure anyone on the island knows much of anything yet. And that’s why we have to do this fast.”
She doesn’t say much after that.
Daniel calls his wife from the air and tells her to meet us at the airstrip.
She sounds surprised, but not all that shocked.
I am certain that he had been preparing her and the kids for this eventuality and they meet us when we land.
They only have two suitcases with them, with their barest possessions.
The little girl is holding their cat.
“I couldn’t make her leave the cat,” his wife says, wrapping her arms tightly around him. “I said it would be your decision.”
The little girl looks up at Daniel with a mixture of tears and hope in her eyes. But Daniel shakes his head.
He kneels down to her and puts his hand on the back of her head.
“We can’t take him, honey. We don’t know where we are going,” he says, his voice cracking from his heartbreak.
Tapping on his shoulder, I lean over and whisper into his ear. “Let her bring the cat. It’s a member of your family. I don’t want you to leave anyone behind.”
“But what about staying in hotels? Not pet-friendly apartments? It will be a… complication.”
The little girl bursts into tears and clutches the cat even tighter.
“Let me worry about that,” I say. “We aren’t leaving anyone behind.”
When Daniel’s family climbs into the back of the plane, the little girl squeezes in right next to Everly.
The last thing I see as we pull away from the ground is Everly petting the cat’s head as it snuggles up to her.
Chapter 35 - Everly
When we wait…
We spend almost two weeks in Washington DC, hiding out before the raid.
Easton meets with his attorney and that meeting is quickly followed by about a hundred more. They talk for hours each day to strategize and make plans.
I don’t see him for days, but we text and talk on the phone during practically every free minute that he has.
The phones we use are special phones, provided by the FBI, to make sure that they are not intercepted and our conversations are kept private.
Well, I doubt that they are entirely private.
The phones are provided by the FBI and I wouldn’t be surprised if the conversations are recorded as well.
But I don’t care.
Before we got to DC, Easton and I made a pact.
A promise to each other.
We would tell them the truth. In order to bring York to justice, we cannot have any secrets.
Yes, that includes the fact that he killed his father. And yes, that includes the fact that I killed Abbott.
Neither crimes have been discussed in much detail yet with any of the attorneys, or prosecutors and special agents handling the situation, but it’s not something we are going to hide.
“I want everything that happened in York to be public,” Easton said to me when we made this promise to each other. “And in order for that to happen, we can’t hide anything from them.”
I agree with him.
Of course, I do.
Yet, there’s still a part of me that has its doubts.
I mean, what if they don’t believe us?
What if they prosecute us for killing them, even though it was in self-defense?
There are thousands of innocent people sitting in prisons all over America, what’s to say we won’t be two more?
But Easton’s confidence is steadfast and unwavering.
He refuses to believe that anymore badness will come our way.
And he is laser-focused on bringing York and everyone who participated in its injustices to justice.
While Easton goes over all the details over and over again, I wait in the safe house that the FBI has placed me into.
In movies, safe houses always look small and dark and dirty.
But this two-bedroom apartment is nothing like that.
It’s actually quite nice. I’ve only been to DC on a seventh grade school field trip, so I have no idea where in the city we are exactly, but I do have a nice view of a large park where kids play in the afternoons.
There are two agents stationed to stay with me in the apartment, on rotation.
They don’t talk much, but they laugh when I watch reruns of Fraser, Friends, and the Office on Netflix and I like that.
I should probably watch something more contemporary, but I don’t have the energy to engage with anything new.
The old shows serve as background noise.
I’ve seen them numerous times and I can just have them on without really engaging with the subject matter in any serious way that requires attention.
The day that it all goes down is like any other.
The trees outside my window are naked and sway only a little bit when the wind swirls around them.
I turn up the episode of Friends in which Winona Ryder plays Jennifer Aniston’s sorority sister just to drown my own thoughts as I stare out of the window.
The show and the laugh track aren’t enough though.
My thoughts keep tumbling through without my consent.
I look at the time.
A second passes and the raid begins.
There are thirty-seven men in the United States who are being served arrest warrants at this exact moment.
They are being woken up in their beds in penthouses and lavish estates. It’s the middle of the night because some of the men are on the west coast.
Those who are not located in the United States, are being arrested in their homes abroad by other jurisdictions.
All of the raids are coordinated and arranged to occur at precisely the same moment so that everyone is surprised at exactly the same time.
As soon as all the men are taken into custody, they will hold a joint press conference with everyone involved in orchestrating the raids.
“Let’s watch,” the agent says, flipping to the news.
I listen to
the commercial and keep looking out of the window.
A group text comes in from Easton to me, Mirabelle, and Daniel.
It’s over. Everything went according to plan.
I let out a small sigh of relief.
I can’t fully relax quite yet though.
I wait for the news.
I hear the announcer apologize for interrupting their scheduled programming with breaking news and the story begins to unfold.
They have footage of what happened only a few hours ago on York. I see women being escorted from the property and onto planes by agents.
There are bright lights and most of them have tears.
In one clip, I recognize the outlines of their silhouettes. It’s Savannah and Teal.
But the others I don’t.
They have blankets around them and they huddle next to each other for safety.
As the tape continues to roll, I see that some are being taken out on gurneys.
The news anchor talks, reading from a script.
The words come in and out of my mind and make me dizzy.
“Dungeon.”
“Sex trafficking.”
“Kept as slaves.”
“Competition to marry.”
"Many wives.”
“Fathered a lot of children.”
Each word brings about a different memory until I can’t bear to listen to it anymore.
I sit down and bury my head in my hands.
The agent turns off the television and apologizes.
The rest of the day is a blur, just like the one after, and the one after that. Different people with badges and important sounding jobs come to talk to me.
Some are pleasant while others are rude. Some raise their voices and others try to be my friends.
But they all have the same agenda. They interrogate me. They ask me the same questions over and over again.
They ask about everything and anything about my stay in York. Despite how tired and annoyed I get, I answer all of their questions.
I don’t generalize, and I don’t lie.
I don’t hide a thing.
I have a lawyer with me, who tells me to be quiet, but I don’t listen to him.
Easton and I made a pact.
To expose the truth about York, we are going to tell the truth about everything.
And then, one day, it’s finally over.
Part Eight
Chapter 36 - Everly
Months later…
After all that time in the sun, the nip of the cold feels refreshing on the tip of my nose. My cheeks are burning red and the tips of my fingers are numb. I am out of breath, scrambling up to the top of the hill, even though Easton has carried up both his sled and mine to make things easier.
“Aren’t there those sledding places where you stand on the conveyer belt and they drag you up?” I ask, pausing in the middle of the hill to catch my breath.
“Yes, there are,” Easton says with a laugh. “But then we wouldn’t have all of this.”
I turn around and look down into the valley.
The hill is covered in virgin snow that sparkles in the sunlight.
The trees at the top and around the periphery stand proud and tall.
Their long needles are covered in snow, creating a cushion of feathers. I slip and break my fall with my hands.
“Are you okay?” Easton asks.
I nod and start to laugh.
The snow makes a crinkling sound under my body as I struggle to get up.
I glance at my gloves, which are covered in perfect six-sided snowflakes.
The bright blue sky above us, each one sparkles with vibrant hues.
Finally, I wobble up the hill and fall into his arms.
He takes my head into his hands and kisses me on the mouth.
His lips are cold, but his mouth is warm, and I know that I am home.
“You really want to give up all of this for a conveyer belt and the crowds?” Easton asks when he pulls away from me and turns me down toward the empty valley.
There isn’t another human soul in sight.
What there is instead is an eagle flying high above us and the crinkling of snow below our footsteps.
“Never,” I say and lay my head on his shoulder.
We stand here for a few minutes, in total silence.
The eagle flies in circles, going nowhere in particular. Nature shows will have us believe that all animals are always locked in an epic struggle for life or death. That’s how they create drama and excitement.
But in reality, most of the time, animals, and birds, and other living things do what all of us living things do when we don’t have anything better to do.
Live life by enjoying the little moments.
“I love you,” Easton whispers.
His words are barely audible and though I know they are directed at me, he is saying them more to the universe than anything else.
“I love you, too,” I whisper. “Now, let’s race!”
I grab my sled from him and sit down.
Both sleds are old-fashioned wooden types with metal runners and a rope you use to control it.
I grew up using plastic saucers and I’ve never seen ones like these except in catalogs and Christmas movies, but are the only ones they had back at the cabin.
“Now or never!” I say, urging him to sit down. “We have to start at the same time for this to be a proper race!”
Easton gets on his sled and we count down. On three, we both push off.
Well, sort of.
I had miscalculated the start and have to push myself off with my feet to just get moving.
I look down the hill and Easton is flying away from me.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I grab onto the rope tightly and scrunch my body as small as it can go.
The wind is whizzing past me, making my whole body shudder from the pins and needles.
I close my eyes for a second and when I open them, I sled past him.
How’s that even possible?
He picks up some speed but not enough to win.
At the bottom of the hill, I jump from my sled and wrestle him to the ground.
“You let me win!” I squeal. “You can’t let me win!”
“Why not?” he asks innocently.
“Because… it’s not fair.”
“Well, it was a false start then,” he says, flipping me over on my back and pinning me to the ground.
“Yeah, on my end. I couldn’t get the damn thing to move,” I say.
He lays on top of me, pressing his body into mine.
Our mouths touch and our tongues intertwine. He pulls off his gloves and runs his fingers down my jaw.
He pulls down my scarf just a bit, exposing my neck to the cold, but then quickly covers it up with his warm soft fingers.
Then he kisses me again.
And again.
And again.
Chapter 37 - Everly
Coming home…
This is our second day in Vermont and even though it has only been a few months,
York feels like a lifetime ago.
The raid went as well as could be expected and everyone has been arrested.
Due to the plethora of evidence, the majority of men have pled guilty in exchange for shorter sentences, but none are less than twenty years in maximum security prisons.
All of the women have been freed. Those who wanted them were given new identities.
Since the men were in such positions of power with a lot of wealth and means, all the victims are pursuing civil lawsuits against them and they will likely result in multi-million-dollar verdicts.
It won’t do much in changing the past but it will do a lot of damage to the perpetrators, which is all you can ask for.
I’m one of the victims involved in the civil lawsuits.
Due to the tapes, the investigators were able to identify the men who were involved in violating me in the dungeons.
Luckily (for
legal purposes) they were all Americans, so the lawsuits were easy to bring about.
Since they all pled guilty, the amount that I’m going to receive is not clear, but it will be enough to set me up for life.
I don’t want the money, but I want them to pay.
I am not decided yet, but I am thinking of starting a foundation to help women who have been trafficked, and whatever money I do receive will likely go there to help others.
The investigators have cleared both Easton and me of any wrongdoing and as soon as we were free to leave the city, we headed straight to Vermont.
I’m not sure which one of us suggested it exactly except that we both wanted to go somewhere cold with a lot of nature.
We haven’t been alone together, really alone, ever, and this was the perfect spot.
“You think we’ll ever see Daniel and Mirabelle again?” I ask as we walk back to our cabin after sledding.
It’s about a mile walk down a winding path, which has recently been cleared.
We are dragging our sleds through the snow and they make a loud swishing sound somewhere under our footsteps.
“We should give them some space first, but then if you want, I can try to find out their new names and where they live.”
“Eh,” I say, shrugging.
All I know is that they both decided to start their lives over again in the Sun Belt.
Mirabelle in Arizona and Daniel in New Mexico.
Or is it the other way around?
In any case, I’m glad that they are okay, but I don’t really have any interest in reaching out to them anytime soon.
The only reason we know each other is because of this horrible thing we’ve all been through in York.
And that makes for a dubious foundation for a friendship.
We finally walk up to our snow-covered cabin.
It’s a remodeled, 1940s, knotty pine cabin, with a loft upstairs.
From the entrance, it doesn’t look like much.
Just quaint, and cute, and charming.
Snow piled on top of the roof, and windows with shutters looking out onto the road. But the beauty of the place is from the inside. Inside, the cabin has a fifteen-foot ceiling and glass windows going up to the top of it.
Lavish Obsession Page 13