Beyond a Doubt

by Nancy Cole Silverman

  I looked around for something. Some weapon. Something to protect myself. Something to stop him should he charge me.

  There was an ax.

  A fireman’s ax was attached to the wall of the wheelhouse behind me. I grabbed it, and as I did, Diamond turned around. I felt as though I was looking into the eyes of a cobra, slowly weaving in front me, about to strike.

  “So,” he said, “this is the part then...where we learn just how good Nurse Carol is with the sight of blood.”

  His body started to sway, slowly side to side. I didn’t know which way he was going to move, but I knew he’d strike.

  “Don’t move. I will use this.” I held the ax above my head, like a bat, my arms shaking. My thin t-shirt was no protection against the cool ocean breeze.

  “Come on, Carol, you don’t have what it takes to swing that ax at me. It’d be awfully bloody if you hit me. What are you gonna do? Have you thought about it? Swing for my leg, my head? I don’t think you can do it.”

  “You don’t know what I can do.”

  “Don’t I?” He took a quick step forward then stopped. He smiled again. Then took another step, this time slightly to the side.

  I stepped toward him, the ax still above my head. The weight of it, heavy in my arms. I was shaking. “Don’t try it.”

  “Or what?” He threw his hands above his head, a short sudden move. He was trying to frighten me.

  I swung wildly and missed.

  “Very good.” He jumped backed, his hands out to his sides. “Shall we try again? Perhaps this time I’ll grab the ax from you. And we both know I’m not afraid to use it.”

  I stepped back, just far enough so that he couldn’t grab it from me. “Just try. I promise you I won’t miss. Not this time.” I raised the ax a little higher.

  Then suddenly from behind me I heard voices.

  “Stop! Don’t anybody move.”

  Diamond froze. I froze.

  From behind me, I could hear Eric’s voice. “Put the ax down, Carol. He’s not going anywhere.”

  Two red laser dots, the size of a penlight, from a semi-automatic danced on Diamond’s chest, directly over his heart.

  I lowered the ax and turned slowly to see Eric with another agent, both in their blue FBI windbreakers, approaching, their guns drawn.

  CHAPTER 36

  I had no idea how Eric and another FBI agent had gotten onboard, but within minutes, the sky and sea around us was full of law enforcement. Like some military exercise, LAPD and FBI helicopters were hovering overhead. Even KCHC traffic helicopter had joined in the action. While in the water, approaching at a high rate of speed was a Coast Guard cutter. Between the wind buffeting the party flags above my head, the chopping sound from the blades of the helicopters, the warning horns of the advancing Coast Guard, and a police bullhorn telling everybody to freeze, I felt as though I was in the middle of military assault.

  I held my hands up and looked at Eric. What do I do?

  “Just stay put.”

  While the second agent held his gun on Diamond, Eric grabbed the rope of party flags above my head, and taking a knife from his belt, cut it down. He stripped it of its flags, then grabbing Diamond by the shoulders, turned him around and tied his hands with the rope behind his back.

  “Where’d you come from?” I asked.

  Diamond winced as Eric pulled the rope tight around his wrists.

  “The poop deck.” He looked at me from over Diamond’s shoulder, winked, and finished tying the rope handcuffs around Diamond’s wrists. “Would have been here sooner, but we ran into a group of illegals trying to jump ship.”

  I looked behind me. Coming up the stairs were several more blue-jacketed FBI agents. I wasn’t surprised. Eric never sailed alone, and crewing the Sea Mistress with him were five other agents. They were all on leave together and, like Eric, never traveled anywhere without their GO bag, loaded with the type of stuff any agent in the field might need: meds, guns and ammo. Just in case. I had heard enough stories to know that something like this was just the type of homecoming party a group of well-rested agents relished. The type of thing they’d be talking about years from now, a chance to jump in on a rescue operation after a little R&R in the gulf.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah. And you?”

  Eric pushed Diamond in the direction of the approaching agents, who grabbed him and moved him out from between us. Then, tucking his gun behind his back, he took a step towards me, grabbed me in his arms, and kissed me hard on the lips, like I hadn’t been kissed in a long time. “Better now that I know you’re okay.”

  The surprise of his move, the warmth of his body, the setting sun, the cool air, there were a thousand reasons why I could have lost myself right there. I felt almost dizzy.

  Then above us, from within one of the helicopters, the sound of a bullhorn.

  “Agent! I hope that’s the reporter.”

  Eric waved a hand above his head. I laughed nervously and stepped back. “I think I better go downstairs and check on the girls.”

  Below I found Holly and Gabi on the poop deck sitting together on a chaise lounge, their arms about one another, cold and shaking. I grabbed a blanket and put it around their shoulders. Across from them, the four illegals sat cross-legged on the deck. They refused to make any kind of eye contact. Guarding them was a third agent. He introduced himself, said his name was Agent Dallas, and that he’d been aboard the Sea Mistress with Eric when they received a call from Agent Delfino.

  “You okay, ma’am?”

  I nodded and turned my attention back to Holly.

  She explained she had run into the four men who had rushed past us on the poop deck as we struggled to get Gabi up the stairs. They had been trying to lower the lifeboat for their escape when three FBI agents appeared from beneath the deck and boarded the boat.

  “They were like pirates,” she said. “They were awesome. Then one of them, a tall guy, he took off, up the stairs—two at a time—like he knew something terrible was about to happen.”

  That had to have been Eric. I glanced over the side of the boat and saw the Sea Mistress’ small motorized dinghy bobbing in the water. I told her everything would be okay, and for the first time, I really believed it. Agent Dallas interrupted me and told me two other agents were searching the ship for any other conspirators.

  “You might want to wait here until I get the all-clear.”

  I told him the engineer was in the hold below. “I suspect he’s got a headache. He took a nasty fall. Fell headfirst over something. I don’t know what, but you might want to have someone look in on him.”

  Moments later, Agent Dallas’ cell rang with an all-clear from one of the agents below. Whoever it was asked if I might come down and help them with the girls. I arrived on the mid-deck to find the agents knocking on doors, but to no avail. The hallway remained as it had been before. Strangely silent, the doors all locked.

  “You think they’re okay?”

  “I think they’re just scared,” I said. “Afraid you’ll arrest them.”

  I knew behind each door there would be a girl, frightened and unsure about what was about to happen.

  “You don’t think they’d do anything stupid, do you?” The agent in front of Leticia’s door shook the handle and looked for a moment as though he was thinking about kicking the door in.

  “I have a passkey. Perhaps you might want to try that first.” I handed him the key.

  He looked relieved and opened the door. Inside, Leticia was standing at the far side of the bed, holding the earphones to her head. She looked like she was looking for somewhere to hide until she saw me.

  “It’s okay, Leticia. Diamond’s not going to hurt you anymore. The police and the FBI have him now.”

  I walked with her to the doorway and asked her if she’d help me open the doors and i
ntroduce me to each of the girls. The second door we opened was Brandy’s room. Every time, behind each door, the situation played out exactly the same. I found a frightened girl—fifteen in all—including Jessie Martin, Marilyn Ann Billings, April Hansen, and several girls from other parts of the country whose names I didn’t know. But I did know they were each someone’s daughter, sister, cousin or friend, and somewhere there had been a missing persons report filed and a cold case left standing open.

  What surprised me most as I gathered with the missing girls on the top deck was the reaction I saw in the faces of some of the girls. There was sadness in a few, tears in others and even cries of “No, don’t!” as Diamond was taken away.

  I remembered that Detective Browne had said to me, that some girls, no matter how horrid their captors, would bond with them. It was a strange reaction, a kind of Stockholm syndrome, but until I saw it, I couldn’t believe it. For some of these girls, Diamond was the only stability they’d ever known in their lives. They had trusted him, and although it was hard to believe, he was a father to some and a savior to others. He’d taken care of them. He dressed them, introduced them to powerful men, took them places they’d never go, and made certain they were housed and fed. Dr. Diamond had provided for some of them what they’d never had: a home and a life. What they didn’t know was just how long that life might be. That he’d dispense of them when they were no longer useful to him. That he’d found a secondary source of income, even more lucrative to him than their trade, and that their lives, their bodies, their minds, they were his.

  CHAPTER 37

  The best thing about radio is that it’s live. I didn’t have to wait until the press could run my story in the morning paper, or to wonder how it was being received. Our listeners could pick up the phone and ask questions, vent their feelings, and most importantly feel like they were part of the process. I loved that. It made me feel really connected both to the story and to my listeners. But even more, I loved that I was able to describe Diamond’s arrest, his last moments on the ship, and the rescue of Hollywood’s Missing Girls, as it was happening, live from the top deck of the Sweet Dreams.

  Holly was at my side on the bridge as I delivered my report. I described Diamond, bound with his hands behind him, his shoulders hunched like a defeated man, as he was escorted off the ship with two armed FBI agents, one on of either side of him. She said it looked like Diamond was about to walk the plank. That got a laugh from Cupid and cheers from a few of the girls who witnessed his departure. A very befitting exit, I thought.

  In reality, I told our listeners it wasn’t a plank, but a wooden bridge that had been fashioned between Sweet Dreams and a Coast Guard cutter that was prepared to take him ashore, and from there, I didn’t know. Not yet.

  But there was a poignant moment, when Diamond looked back at the boat, this floating brothel he’d created. I wondered what he must be thinking. Did he really think he’d never be caught? Was he such an egomaniac that he didn’t care? Or was he crazy? I remembered the pills I found in his medicine cabinet in the bathroom onboard. Maybe he was really was mad...the Mad Dr. Diamond. He certainly had enough pills in that cabin. It might explain his strange actions, his manic energy, his dark side.

  I didn’t have the answers. I only had questions, and as I looked down at the girls huddled together on the top deck, I had lots of them. How did they get here? Where had they come from? How many other arrests would there be? Certainly Diamond hadn’t put this operation together alone.

  Holly leaned up next to me and covered her eyes. We were off the air for the moment. From below deck, the ship’s captain and members of the crew were being brought topside. They were all bound, their hands behind their backs, agents surrounding them. The reality of what was happening on the deck below her was maybe too much.

  “They’re going to arrest me too. Aren’t they?”

  “I don’t know, Holly. I know they’re going to want to talk to you. But I don’t think they’ll arrest you. I think if you tell them what you know, they’re going to realize you’re as much of a victim as any of the other girls.”

  She looked at me, her eyes searching mine. Could she trust me?

  “Tell them what you know, Holly. Tell them everything. How Diamond tricked you, how he threatened you. That he told you he’d kidnap your little sister if you didn’t go along. I’ll vouch for you. I’ll tell them you helped bring Diamond down.”

  I said goodnight to her, and as I did, one of the FBI agents approached. She needed to come with him. He didn’t cuff her, merely asked if she’d follow. I watched as she was escorted down the steps to where the captain and the crew were huddled together. She turned and waved at me, then slowly crossed the gangplank from Sweet Dreams onto the Coast Guard cutter. I waved goodbye.

  Tyler cued me. He needed me back on the air to wrap-up my report. We were running short of time.

  I thanked Cupid and Tyler and even Sheri, who was patched into the show via a phone line, and reminded those listening that I’d be back on the air with them tomorrow afternoon. I’d have more details concerning Hollywood’s Missing Girls and the arrest of Dr. Malcolm Diamond then. “Until tomorrow, this is Carol Childs, live from the deck of Sweet Dreams, inviting you to stay tuned.”

  CHAPTER 38

  I drove to work the next morning on autopilot. My radio was tuned to the station, my mind full of images from last night’s arrest. In the background, the station plugged away with a promotion for this afternoon’s show, praising my efforts and referring to me as the station’s ace investigative reporter. “KCHC investigative Reporter Carol Childs exposes Hollywood sex trafficking ring. Carol Childs uncovers the truth behind Hollywood’s Missing Girls.” They were making me out to be a modern day Nellie Bly, America’s first investigative female journalist, while in my mind, the events, the boat, the girls, Eric, the arrests, were all blurred together. In hindsight, it was like a dream, or maybe more of a nightmare, that I couldn’t quite believe I’d been a part of.

  I checked my voicemails as I drove. I had twenty-three messages. Many of them were call-ins from listeners congratulating me. Nice comments after the LA Times article concerning my arrest had left some station fans doubting my credibility as a reporter. I skipped through most. I didn’t have time to listen to them all. I was searching for something from Eric. His call had come in at four a.m. He said he was leaving a message on my office line because he didn’t want to wake me, that hopefully I was sleeping.

  “But I thought you’d want to know, Diamond won’t be making bail. He’s considered a flight risk and the charges against him, in addition to the kidnapping and murder of Monica Channing, could fill a small phonebook. As for Holly Wood, I know you didn’t want to see her go with us last night, but she’s giving us exactly what we need to make the charges against Diamond stick. Sleep tight, babe. See you tomorrow.”

  I had mixed feelings about Holly. I had watched as she walked the plank in the company of FBI agents and wondered what would become of her. She wasn’t without fault. She had helped to trap other girls into Diamond’s sex trafficking ring. She’d told me so. But still, I felt as though she were more of a victim than a conspirator, a young girl in trouble, caught up in a cruel world of human trafficking, and with no idea how get out of it. Diamond had not only threatened her, but also the life of her little sister. What was she to do?

  The next voicemail began with a brief recording of My Way and I nearly dropped the phone. Tony’s voice unmistakably smooth said, “Carol, sorry, I won’t be running those ads on the radio. Seems I’m on the move again. But then I’m sure you already know that. Ciao.”

  I was about to pick up the phone and call Eric’s cell, when it buzzed through. It was Tyler.

  “I hope you’re on the way in, ’cause I need to see you—”

  “ASAP,” I said. “I know. I’m almost there.”

  Tyler met me in the lobby. “I think there’s something you
need to know.” He paused. “About corporate and their take on this story.”

  “Okay,” I said, skeptically. “What is it?”

  “You know they were never keen on our covering the topic of sex trafficking. That they wanted us to keep with a lighter, more—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. Lighter, more friendly chick news.”

  “Exactly. And you know that I did what I could to support you while you continued to investigate.”

  “Yes.” I could tell Tyler wasn’t comfortable with what he was about to say. “Go on.”

  “Well, turns out they’re thrilled with the results. That’s the good news. However, they’d like to tread lightly on the circumstances concerning sex trafficking and focus on the rescue.”

  “Okay.” I still wasn’t getting it, but I wasn’t surprised.

  “The rescue,” Tyler said, “that your boyfriend, the FBI agent, did on the high seas. Saving you from certain death.”

  “The rescue my boyfriend did?” I paused. My stomach was suddenly in knots. Not that I didn’t agree. I had been rescued, and without Eric’s sudden appearance on the deck behind me, Diamond might have taken the ax from my hand and the end result would have been very different. But— “Just how did anyone know it was my boyfriend who came to my rescue?”

  Tyler explained that while I was busy aboard Diamond’s floating brothel taking down the ship’s captain while evading capture, and then facing off with Diamond, Sheri was on the air—with Cupid. She described, as best she could, what she knew of my investigation: the pub crawl, my arrest for the break-in of Diamond’s apartment, and Tony’s disappearance. And, in the course of trying to sound informed, she just happened to mention that I was involved with a handsome FBI agent. Whom she had managed to get in touch with, and whom at that very moment was en route to the Sweet Dreams to rescue me.