“Everything okay over there?” she asked.
“I guess. I’m just worried about class. I kind of got behind over the last week.”
“You want me to call your professor and fill him in?”
“No. I’ve got it. I just don’t like feeling this sense of doom. I know he’s going to spring a quiz on us.”
“Okay then.” She took another sip, thinking back over the last few weeks and the weird chain of events. It was still hard to accept that Jill had been the main perpetrator and head of the child trafficking operation and it was even harder to admit how blind they’d all been. Everything fit the damned profile they’d developed— just differently and more sadly twisted than they’d ever imagined. No one had realized Jill needed to be a star, just like Jake. “Give it a rest, Melba,” she told herself. “What’s done is done and there was more than one fly in this ointment. Still, it’s hard to believe just a couple of weeks ago you were bitching about addressing envelopes.”
“Hey, Melba?”
“Yes, Toby?”
“Quit sitting over there brooding. We did our best.”
“If we’d been smarter, we could have stopped it sooner.”
“Yeah, but we did stop it. If we hadn’t put the pieces together, they would have gotten away with it and no one would have known what happened to those kids. So quit beating yourself up.”
She had to admit he was right. “So, when did you get to be so wise?”
He ignored her for a minute or two, just as she suspected he would. She mentally counted seconds, waiting for his next inevitable comment. The subject surprised her.
“It was kind of weird not having Mitchell there at the end.”
Keeping her voice neutral, she asked, “Why do you say that?”
“Well, last time he had to come to the rescue. When he started working with us on this, I guess somewhere in the back of my mind I thought he’d be around until the very end. Sometimes I just wish…never mind.”
She decided to keep her thoughts on that set of commentary to herself and settled for a non-committal, “Hmmm.”
“Do you think we’ll see Edmondson and Garfield again?”
“I don’t know.” She was glad he changed the subject. Fact was, she wouldn’t mind seeing the Special Agent again, as long as it didn’t involve another trafficking ring, or a crazy brother and sister duo which combined a scary puppet with one of the most dysfunctional family dynamics she’d ever seen. It’d be nice to skip all that and just go out to dinner instead. “We might, one day.”
“Do you think he’ll catch Grokov?”
“Yep, I do. Sooner or later.” She checked the level of her cup, then took another sip. It was a new brew she was test-driving for Zhou Li. It was different than the others, and she wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. She took another sip, trying to decide.
“What do you think is going to happen to Jessica?”
That was another good question, but unfortunately, she could pretty much guess the answer. “They’ve sent out DNA tests to confirm parentage, but even if they come back with the expected match, both parents are dead. With Jocasta in prison and Grokov unaccounted for, she’s probably going to end up a ward of the state. I think they’ll make sure she gets a lot of counseling, but…I don’t know how good it will be. That’s the sad truth, Toby. She has a hard road ahead of her.”
“How did Jill know…about Jessica being her daughter?”
Melba didn’t have an answer for him. “We might discover the answer to that after all of the materials found at the theatre are reviewed. Then again, we might never know. But maybe….maybe she just wanted her to be.”
“Hmmm. If it turns out to be true, do you think Grokov knew? About Jessica, I mean.”
She’d been wondering that herself. “I don’t know. Jocasta knew, and I find it hard to believe Grokov wouldn’t have figured it out.”
“It would be really fucked up if he did.”
“Yes, it would be. Just like everything else about this case.”
“Moon and Diane will be okay though. Right?”
At least there was something to smile about. “Yes. Moon will make certain of that now that everything’s out in the open. She said Diane’s moving in with her, and they’re both going to see a counselor together.”
“Diane didn’t seem too messed up about finding out Moon was her daddy instead of her aunt. I guess after everything else, it just isn’t that big of a deal.”
“I think you’re right, Toby. And don’t forget, Lucy’s back home with her family too. I think we’ll see them around here a lot. Maria Escabar seems to be fitting right in with the rest of the Capital Street regulars.” She finished her tea, letting the last taste linger on her tongue. It was still a little bitter, but not as sharp as the last batch. It was also warmer somehow. She’d sleep on it and then share her thoughts about the blend with the old woman across the street, before she got cornered and tested on the possible ingredients and their effect. She might even end up being right. “Hey, Toby, you about ready to call it a day?”
“No. I’m going to try to get through another chapter. Go on home, and I’ll lock up.”
“Okay. I’ll take you up on that offer.” Melba picked up her purse and turned off the desk lamp. After straightening the picture of Sam, she got up from her chair and hitched her bag up on her shoulder. “Good night,” she called out on the way to the door.
“Hey, Melba?”
“Yeah?”
“I have another question, but I’m not real sure how to ask it.”
“That’s unlike you.”
“I know, but this one’s about something kind of tricky.”
“Now I’m worried.”
“Me too.” He got up from his chair and looked her in the eye. “Is Madame Zhou sick?”
It took her a minute to collect herself enough to answer. “Yes.”
“Real sick? Like…dying sick?”
This time, she couldn’t answer. She looked away, cursing the tears forming in her eyes.
“Does Jon know?” he asked softly.
She was afraid he’d be hurt that he’d been the only one who hadn’t known, so she just nodded, unable to do anything else.
She waited for his reaction, sighing with relief when he walked to her side, and gently pulled her in for a hug. She let her purse drop off her shoulder and onto the floor as he held her tight, both of them crying now. After a few minutes, he wiped away his tears and reached down and retrieved her bag. “Well…shit,” he said as he handed it over. “This really sucks.”
“Yeah, it does.”
He walked back to his desk and grabbed his keys. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”
“What about your chapter?” she asked as he turned off the lights.
“It can wait. It doesn’t seem so important anymore.”
He walked by her side down the hall. They passed the pictures hanging in the lobby of the young boy and the young girl, pausing briefly to look up at them. “Melba, do you ever wonder how things might have worked out if you hadn’t been the detective to get the call the night Geri died?”
“Yes, I do. Every day, Toby.”
“Me, too.” He flipped off the lights and opened the front door. After letting her pass, he followed her out and locked up, testing the door as always to make sure the lock engaged. They walked to the corner and crossed the street, where he waited while she unlocked her car and got inside. He leaned in before she shut the door. “I’m glad it was you, Melba.”
She looked up into his ice blue eyes, suddenly realizing just how much he’d grown over the last months. Even that ridiculous mustache and the hint of a beard seemed to suit him now. “Me, too,” she answered.
Toby watched her drive away, then turned and headed across the lot, and past Green Dragon. Failing to spot any sign of Jon, he climbed up the stairs, and unlocked his apartment. His jacket hit the floor as he toed off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt. By the time he reached the bedroo
m, he was pretty much undressed. There wasn’t any need to turn on the light. A dozen candles flickered a warm welcome.
“I waited up for you.”
“I can see that, Jon,” Toby replied, taking in the incredible vision of inked dragons dancing on naked, candle-lit skin. “And you know what? Finding you here is the very best way to end this day.”
***
The beat-up sedan pulled into the parking lot of a rundown tourist joint somewhere in the Florida panhandle. The man who climbed out was well past middle-age, but still in pretty good shape. He pushed the ‘gimme’ hat back on his head, and shoved open the door, ignoring the ringing of the cheap bell announcing his arrival. After plundering the aisles for a few supplies, he approached the check-out stand, glancing briefly at the gossip rags in the rack by the counter. Looked like they were milking Jake Anthony’s death for as much mileage as they could get. He was probably more famous now than he ever was alive.
He waited for the cashier to finish ringing him up and then dug a wad of money out of his pocket and peeled off a few bills.
“Looks like you’re stockin’ up,” the man behind the counter observed as he placed the items into a couple of bags.
“Still have a ways to go.”
“Where you headed?”
“Sarasota.”
“Nice place,” the clerk allowed. “Business or pleasure?”
“Both,” Vassily Grokov answered as he picked up the bags and headed out the door. It would indeed be a pleasure to finish this last bit of business. His one regret was Jill. Still, a father could only mourn his daughter for so long. Soon, he’d find a moment to remember her fondly over a glass of good vodka, as was proper.
Then, he’d settle up with that old Chinese bitch. Once and for all.
LINKS TO OTHER BOOKS
If you enjoyed this book, please take a moment and leave me a rating or review. It makes a huge difference. I can be found on social media, and at www.JefferyCraigBooks.com. Drop me a line if so inclined. I love hearing from my readers!
If you haven’t read the first two books, now’s a great time to get a copy.
Done Rubbed Out: Reightman & Bailey Book One
Hard Job: Reightman & Bailey Book Two
Little Deaths: Reightman & Bailey, Book Four, will be headed your way later this year and there’s a new standalone novel in the works, so stay tuned.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This was a difficult book for me to research, much less write. On one hand, continuing to develop the amazing characters in the Reightman & Bailey series is joy and a pleasure. On the other hand, I knew the crime central to the plot of this third book had to be handled carefully and that took both time and considerable rework. A couple of the secondary themes were also tricky.
Human trafficking is a horrendous crime, and trafficking involving children is especially terrible. It’s a crime that’s not talked about much, yet it’s one of the most profitable — and by association, fastest growing — crimes in the world, and in our nation. The statistics are astounding, and as I delved into my research, there were times I had to stop because what I discovered along the way was so troubling. Like many victims of rape, those who have been bought, sold and escaped feel a sense of shame. Many are frightened to share their story, fearing repercussions. Some simply want to forget. Thankfully, a few brave souls have come forward and added much needed visibility. Through their willingness to share, law enforcement agencies are now better able to combat the situation. Knowledge is the key to prevention as well, and through raised awareness and educational efforts, hopefully, crime statistics will be reduced. The Polaris Project, The Women’s Funding Network, Paladin Rescue, and Shared Hope are just a few of the organizations I came across in my research, and they’re all working to make a difference. The National Human Trafficking Resource Center was also helpful in my research, as were excellent articles by CNN, The Atlantic, and The Huffington Post. I encourage you to read and learn, and help prevent this type of crime by being aware of the signs of trafficking.
As always, many remarkable resources helped bring this book to you. Kathy LaLima at LaLima Design provided another outstanding cover and is a joy to work with. Jennifer Severino from Twitching Pen Editing kept me on track, searched and destroyed errors, and helped tighten things up. My dear friend, Dr. Rhea Merck, continued to provide insight into the mind and behaviors of my characters—both the heroes and villains. My wonderful circle of friends provided ongoing support, and as always, CPK — my husband and partner — was there every step of the way.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JEFFERY CRAIG is the writing pseudonym of the author and is used for fictional works. Jeffery resides in the southeastern United States and shares his life with his husband and partner, and a menagerie of much loved pets. For several years he worked an executive providing technology and consulting services to help clients meet their business needs. He’s an avid supporter of the arts and co-owns a local antique business specializing in estate and vintage jewelry from the 1850s to the 1950s
When he isn’t writing, he might be found working on a painting or enjoying the covered porch of his historic southern home with a good book in hand. He can be contacted on social media or via his webpage (www.jefferycraigbooks.com).
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