Taking a big breath in, I stood up straighter, and reached for the doorknob, turning it, pushing the door open to the waiting room. Until I saw the handful of patients waiting to be seen, it never occurred to me he’d be busy. I could turn around and leave, and he’d never be the wiser. But I couldn’t. I needed this information. I needed it if I ever hoped to set my mind at ease with regard to my father and his possible involvement in something as horrible as human trafficking. And I needed to learn as much as I could about Adam Smith.
“Can I help you?” the woman at the reception desk asked.
I turned to her, hearing my heart beat above everything else. It took me a moment, but I cleared my throat and managed to take the two steps to close the space between us.
“I’m here to see Dr. Acosta,” I said.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Um, no.”
“Well, I can make you an appointment for later in the week, but he’s very busy—”
“Actually, no.” I wasn’t normally a pushy person but I was doing this. “I can’t wait.” She opened her mouth to speak but I just went on. “Please tell him Elle Vega is here to see him. I’m sure he’ll see me.”
“Ms. Vega, this is highly irregular.”
I heard him then. He came around the corner and out to reception, going over a file with a nurse, stopping short when he saw me. He seemed different here in his white coat from how he had in my cell. He looked like he had the first time I’d met him, when he’d taken care of me.
He was quicker to recover than I was, though. Masking any emotion, he stepped toward me. “Ms. Vega,” he said, smiling widely. “What a surprise to see you here. Is everything all right?”
The receptionist watched.
“Um, yes. Yes, fine. I was hoping…actually, I just had a question about the stitches,” I lied.
He nodded. “Why don’t you come back to my office and we can talk there.”
“Doctor, your next —” the receptionist began.
“We’ll just be a moment, Stephanie,” he told her, cutting her off as he walked around the desk. Then, to me, “This way.”
He waited, extending an arm, gesturing for me to go ahead. I did, noticing how he didn’t touch me, the tips of his fingers not brushing any part of me, and when we entered his office and I turned to face him, I saw he was perhaps more shocked than I at my presence here, and just as nervous.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“You don’t seem happy to see me,” I said, feeling some power shift to me, finally.
He raised his eyebrows. “Tell me what you want, Ms. Vega.”
“Well, I could call the police and let them know what you did to me. Tell them the role you played in my kidnapping.”
He paused but quickly recovered himself. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. We met once when you cut your hand and I sewed you back up. That’s all.” He moved to sit behind his desk, taking a moment to read something on his screen, seeming more relaxed, stealing that little bit of confidence I’d just gained.
“He said things about my father,” I said, feeling emotion creep into my eyes in the form of tears. I thought I was stronger. I thought I could handle this. When I lifted my gaze, I saw Acosta watching me. “He’s gone, so he can’t answer my questions. I just want to know what’s true.” I paused then added, “I would have gone to the police already if I wanted to do that.”
He took a deep breath and leaned back. “Sit down, Elle.”
I did, noting how he called me by my first name.
“You have every right to go to the police.”
“What?”
“What he did wasn’t right. But I’m glad you haven’t. He’s a good man, Adam. He’s gone through a lot.”
“A lot of people go through a lot, and they don’t end up kidnapping and torturing someone,” I blurted, some of the anger beneath the sadness surfacing.
He nodded in agreement. “Either way, I’m glad you haven’t gone to the police.”
“His sister. I want to verify his story.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know.”
“What do you expect to find?”
I shook my head, shifting my gaze out the window behind him. “I don’t know.” I didn’t. Would what I learned exonerate my father or would it condemn him?
“Let me ask you a better question. Are you prepared for what you may find?”
I studied his eyes, dark but not unkind.
“You care about him, about Adam,” I said, avoiding his question, not ready to answer that just yet. I was, however, curious about why this man was helping him. Why he’d put his career on the line like this.
“He’s my nephew.”
That took me aback. I wouldn’t have guessed.
He took a flash drive from his desk and stuck it into the computer. He didn’t speak as he pushed the mouse, finally locating what he needed and hitting a button. It was quiet while we both waited, his eyes on the screen, mine on him. After a few moments, he ejected the flash drive and slid it toward me. “I believe he cares about you, Elle. You did something to him, something that made him stop this madness that’s been eating at him for more than half his life. I will do whatever it takes to protect the family I have left. Don’t make me regret giving you this information.”
I took the flash drive. “Thank you.”
He nodded, and I stood.
“Good-bye, Elle.”
“Good-bye, Doctor.”
“WHAT THE HELL HAVE you done to yourself?”
My head pounded. I was barely able to make out the man’s words. I knew his voice, though. I knew him, even if I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. It wasn’t the voice I was hoping to hear. Although I couldn’t be sure whose voice that was, right at the moment.
“Where did you find him?” the same man asked.
“Climbing on his bike at some bar in freaking Detroit.”
“Detroit?”
I could almost hear the man shaking his head as cool fingers turned my face to one side then the other.
“Had to knock him out to take him. He wasn’t coming willingly,” the voice I did not recognize said.
“I’m guessing he’s responsible for Marco’s black eye.”
“Yeah.”
“You did well. If you can strip off his clothes and get him into the tub, we’ll hose the stink off him.”
I groaned, trying to raise my head or open my eyes or fucking do something.
“Stop, Adam. You reek and your clothes are covered in things I don’t even want to know about.”
A man chuckled, and they hauled me upright before tearing my clothes from me.
“Do you have any idea where you are?” the man continued as they unceremoniously dumped me into a tub.
I opened my eyes, or one of them at least, for a moment, not long enough to see anything, before someone turned on the shower and ice-cold water splashed down on me.
“Fuck!”
“Waking up, Adam?” he asked.
“Fuck you.” What the hell were they trying to do, freeze me to fucking death? I tried to get out of the stream but slid backward, rubbing my face, willing my eyes to open.
“Come on, Adam.”
I groaned, holding my palm up against what felt like a power washer hosing me down with ice. “Stop, man!”
“Open your eyes, and I’ll know to stop.”
I opened my eyes, turning my face from the bright light. “I’m going to fucking kill you, Clay.”
“That’s it. Welcome back to the land of the living, soldier.”
What the fuck was he talking about? The water shut off, and three men stood in military camouflage, each with a smirk on his face.
“On your feet.”
“Fuck you. I left the military years ago.”
“Yeah, well, guess what, asshole? Your services are needed again.”
Clay was mostly a good guy, but he could be a real fuckin
g douche, too. Yes, he was a friend. He’d suspected about Elle, knew that from our last conversation, but he’d also know by now I’d released her. So what the fuck was he doing?
“What are you talking about?”
“New witness has come forward in the Vega case. She can put him away, Adam. There’s no way he’s slipping away this time, not if she lives.”
“What?”
“And she’s requested you to keep her alive.”
Fuck. No. There was only one person…
“Alexia Rhone,” he said.
I stood, taking the towel Clay handed me and wrapping it around my hips. It was Alex. Alex was going to testify against Vega.
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
Well, fuck me.
ALESSANDRA MORENO HAD COMMITTED suicide at the age of twenty-four. She’d been kidnapped at a bus stop on her way to work and had turned up wandering the streets of Park City, Utah, six weeks later. She had no recollection of what had happened to her during her captivity, but, based on medical examinations and physical evidence on her person, she’d been tortured and raped. They believed she’d survived a car accident that had killed both the driver and the other man in the vehicle with her, allowing her to simply walk away. The car was registered to a man named Niel Horrenson, a man who had ties to organized crime in several states, as well as two known criminals whose origins and primary activity came from abroad. One of the two men named was my uncle. The other, my father.
I sat back, combing through the photographs, giving myself some time to process.
The file Dr. Acosta had given me was an official report sealed from the public because the investigation had never been closed. After so many years, it was a cold case. Insufficient evidence to link Alessandra to Horrenson or anyone else. The only link had been the vehicle they’d been driving when the accident had happened and Horrenson claimed it had been stolen days prior.
Some of the photos I saw were the same ones Adam had shown me of this young, pretty girl taken at the prime of her life. The scars on her back matched mine, although hers more than doubled what I had. I didn’t need to count to know how many strokes she’d taken. She had others, too, cuts and bruises here and there, and, at her hip was the worst of all where the brand had burned into her flesh, searing it with the letters NH emblazoned as if she were cattle.
I shuddered at that image, realizing how painful that would have been to take, but that wasn’t the worst of the photos. Those came later, when she was reunited with her family. I saw photos of Adam’s parents, stricken when their daughter had been kidnapped, elated at her return. But they hadn’t known then their elation would last mere weeks. That Alessandra, whose mind had hidden away the memories of those weeks in captivity in an effort to help her survive the horror, would be unable to. Had she remembered in the end? Had she relived the horrific events of those weeks in her sleep every night, pasting a small smile on her face to appease her parents when, inside, she wailed? I didn’t know, and I never would. And neither would Adam.
Adam had been arrested twice after her suicide. Petty crimes, stupid things a raging teen would do. But instead of juvenile detention, or prison, on the eve of his eighteenth birthday, he’d enlisted in the Navy. That was the last of any mention of Adam.
I felt sick. I had to stop looking at the photos — they seemed countless — of the family, of this Niel Horrenson. He was a small-time drug trafficker who disappeared after Alessandra reappeared. He had been arrested twice before and had served some time in prison. The report claimed that he had, at one point, worked for my father. That link alone was damning, but then I read on and came to the next file Dr. Acosta had copied for me.
According to this, it was believed Manuel Vega had his hands in many things, including trafficking drugs into the states, the grocery business a cover-up. But what surprised me was the mention of human trade. I sat back, forcing myself to think, to face this. Was he being targeted? I had always told myself it was jealousy, that there was nothing, nothing horrible at least. If I were honest with myself, I had to admit I’d suspected the drugs, but managed to push those thoughts away, not allowed myself to dwell on them. But the human trafficking? That was different. That was unconscionable.
But, if so, he would have been arrested by now. He would have been in prison. There was a reason there wasn’t enough evidence. And I had to remember the source of this. Yes, Dr. Acosta’s niece, Adam’s sister, had been taken, treated horribly, died an even worse death, but was my father truly involved or were they needing someone to blame? Someone to point the finger at? A scapegoat? Was my father, a gentle man from my perspective, just that? He’d never raised a hand to me. Although not the most affectionate man, he’d been the ultimate protector. What they said about him couldn’t be further from the truth.
I closed the file and stood. I couldn’t take this anymore. I couldn’t think about it anymore. Heading into the bedroom, I changed into running clothes. I chose music, loud and obnoxious, to drown out everything else. It would be my first run in a long time. The last time had been when I’d literally run into Adam at the liquor store. That night was a vague memory now, though, after all that had happened since. I shook my head and walked out the front door. Adam was gone. He wasn’t coming back. All this stuff? It could have been manufactured by Acosta. By Adam. I had to believe that even if the voice at the back of my head kept screaming why? For what reason? I just couldn’t face this, not now.
I DIDN’T KNOCK BUT pounded on Alex’s front door. I felt like fucking shit after my weeks-long bender, and she was the reason Clay had come after me. And I knew exactly why she’d come forward.
“Sir, Ms. Rhone is —”
“I don’t care,” I said, pushing my way past the startled maid and up the stairs to Alex’s bedroom. She’d be there. Hell, she probably expected me.
“What is it exactly you think you’re doing, Alex?” I asked after storming in, not even startling the woman who sat at her vanity, her eyes carelessly shifting to mine in the mirror. I wanted Vega. I wanted him bad. But not at the cost of a friend. “Every single witness has gone missing or turned up dead.”
“Well, I’m going to break that cycle.”
“How?”
She turned to face me then, her ice-blue eyes determined. “I have you.”
I paused. Something was off. In the years I’d known Alex, I knew this wasn’t her. “Why now?”
“Why not now?”
I shook my head, lowering myself onto the chaise.
“You look like shit, Adam.”
She had returned her attention to applying a dark-red lipstick, and I could see both sides of her face: one beautiful, the other hideous.
“Yeah, well, I feel like shit.”
“What happened with Elle?”
“Nothing. I let her go.”
She glanced up at me briefly. “Good.”
“Are you doing this for revenge?”
She shook her head. “No.” She turned to face me. “That fire burned out thirty years ago.”
“Then why? You’re safe. You’re…alive. Why give it all up now? Why take the risk and make yourself a target?”
“Because his evil doesn’t end, Adam. Don’t you see?” She rose to her feet and came to sit beside me, turning my face so I would be forced to look at her. “What happened to you after your sister died, what, fifteen years ago?”
She knew; she didn’t need to ask. Alex had followed every one of Manuel Vega’s victims, learning all she could about each of them. My sister was an anomaly, like her. She’d survived captivity. The rest had disappeared. When Alessandra had killed herself, Alex had found me. I’d been fourteen. She’d been seventeen years my senior. Between her and Clay, they’d saved my life.
“What have you been doing for fifteen years? Hating. You’ve been hating. And you’ve been plotting your revenge. What you did to Elle wasn’t right.” I opened my mouth to speak but she halted me with the raising of one eyebrow. “B
ut you stopped before it was too late. You know what he would have done to you if you’d gone through with your plan? If you’d delivered his daughter to him in that…condition? Do you have any idea how far gone you were?”
I rubbed the back of my neck and stood, walking toward the window overlooking the acres she lived on.
“He would have murdered you, Adam. You wouldn’t have won. Punishing his daughter would have earned you his ultimate vengeance. Still may, if he finds out. Surprises me he hasn’t. That she hasn’t gone to Daddy or the police.”
I turned to her. “If you’re doing this to save me, don’t. I don’t need saving.”
“I think you do. Mostly from yourself.”
For the first time in the years I’d known her, I saw tears soften her eyes and, for a moment, just a brief moment, she didn’t look like a forty-something woman but a little girl. A scared, lost, little girl.
“Adam, I haven’t lived in too many years. I’ve been in hiding. I’ve allowed myself to become a victim, his victim, for far longer than I should have. I’ve allowed him to steal my life even if he doesn’t have me anymore.” She shook her head. “I don’t want that anymore. I’m doing this for me as much as for you.”
“This is a death sentence, Alex. You’ll have a price on your head.”
“So be it. I can’t stand back and watch him destroy one more life. I won’t watch him turn what is good into evil.”
That last part was for me, but she didn’t know it was already too late. I’d already turned evil. My stopping before I’d branded Elle didn’t exonerate me.
“I will keep you alive, Alex.”
“I know you will.” She stood, returning to her vanity. “I have to get ready. I’m making my statement today.”
I knew I should leave it alone. Acosta had told me she’d come. He’d told me what he’d given her. Told me how bad she’d been.
Shit.
I shouldn’t be here, and yet, here was exactly where I was. I supposed I could have had it delivered to her, but I wanted to see her just one more time. I couldn’t not. And the minute I’d decided, my heart had all but leapt out of my chest.
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