Child With No Name

by Franklin Horton

  When they reached the table, the man gestured for them to be seated with a flick of his hand. They pulled out chairs and settled into them.

  “Are you Hillman?” Badger asked.

  The man nodded. He took a sip of his beer, then looked at it with disappointment. It was nearly empty. He leaned to the side and slid a hand into his pants pocket, fishing out a stack of bills. He extracted a twenty and flipped it toward Badger. “How about you go grab us three beers?”

  “Sure.” Badger took the twenty and headed for the bar.

  Hillman studied Ty, staring intently at him. Ty got the feeling the man was trying to make him nervous, so he responded accordingly. He made himself become nervous. He looked around the room and shifted awkwardly in his seat.

  “So what line of work did you say you were in?” Hillman asked.

  Ty hadn’t said. All of Hillman's contact had been with Badger. He understood this was a test to see if their stories matched. “Hardware. My friend and I work for a chain of plumbing and electrical supply stores in the Atlanta area.” He didn’t need to offer that information but nervousness often made people feel pressured to speak and they said too much. It was part of the act.

  “What brings you to the city?”

  “We’re meeting with a supplier tomorrow. It’s kind of a big deal for our company and we wanted to get my boss a present. Something he might not be able to get at home.”

  Hillman nodded. “Something young? That's what your friend at the bar said.”

  Though he was disgusted with himself for doing it, Ty grinned broadly and nodded. “Yeah. Not too young though. A teenager maybe. Young teenager.”

  “Hey, we like what we like, right?” said Hillman. “Nothing wrong with that.”

  Ty shrugged in agreement, though there was a lot wrong with that.

  Badger rejoined them and slid each man a beer. “Fucking slow service around this joint. You’d think they were slammed.”

  "Eh, they don't know you." Hillman extracted a phone from his pocket and unlocked it. He opened a hidden folder by punching in a passcode, then slid the phone across the table to them.

  Ty looked from the phone to Hillman. Picking up that phone was the last thing he wanted to do because he was fairly certain he understood what it contained. But there was no choice. He could either do this or not, and if he couldn’t he might as well pack his shit and go home. He wasn’t saving anyone and he'd never be able to save anyone.

  He picked up the phone and casually checked over his shoulder to make sure that no one could see what he was looking at. When he looked back at the screen, he saw dozens of thumbnail images of young girls. He clicked on an image to enlarge it, then focused on his facial expressions, trying to will his eyes not to see the images before them. By contrast, he acted eager and excited, leaning toward Badger and pointing out images to him. Nothing in Ty’s demeanor gave away his true feelings. The revulsion and disgust. The hatred. The murderous rage.

  “See anything you like?” Hillman asked.

  Ty shrugged. “I guess that depends on how much it costs.”

  “Twenty-five hundred,” Hillman threw out.

  Badger snorted. “Guess we’re wasting our time. Too rich for my blood.”

  Ty placed the phone on the table and made to slide it toward Hillman. Hillman stopped the gesture, placing his own hand on the end of the phone nearest him. “You have to understand that these young ladies are not street-corner crackheads. This is a specialty market and the product is priced accordingly.”

  “How about a thousand?” Ty suggested.

  Hillman raised an eyebrow. With the phone still trapped between his fingers and Ty’s, Hillman deftly tapped a thumbnail and a video began playing. There was no sound but Ty glanced down and wished that he hadn’t. It was something he didn’t want or need to see. It took everything within him to not break Hillman’s neck, but he didn’t want to blow this. This wasn’t a remote hangar. Shitty as it was, El Cierdo Ciego was a public venue.

  Ty plastered a drunken grin across his face. He gave Badger a conspiratorial look. “Twenty-five hundred?”

  “I’m not going that high. That’s just out of our price range.” Badger looked at Hillman. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

  Hillman stopped the video. “Don’t let it be said that I’m an unreasonable man. I can go fifteen hundred but I’m afraid that’s it. If word got out that I was getting soft, I’d be out of business by the end of the day.”

  Ty glanced questioningly at Badger, received a nod of agreement, then returned his eyes to Hillman. “You have a deal.”

  Hillman smiled slightly and nodded in concession. “Excellent.” He replaced the phone in his pocket and extracted a notepad. He wrote an address on the small sheet of paper, ripped it out, and held it up for Ty to see. “This is the address. Be there at 10 PM tomorrow night. It goes without saying that this is a cash transaction, correct?”

  Badger shrugged like he was offended at being characterized as an idiot. “Yeah, we figured that.” He drained the last of his beer and shoved his chair away from the table. “Nice doing business with you.”

  The two got to their feet and headed out of the bar, feeling eyes burning holes in their backs. They shoved their way out the battered steel door and blinked against the light as they struggled to pull their sunglasses over their eyes.

  “How’d I do?” Ty asked.

  “We’ll know in a minute.”

  Badger unlocked his truck and whipped off his beer-stained shirt, putting a clean one on before getting in. Ty did the same on the other side. Badger had warned him in advance to bring clean clothes. He was anxious to get out of the ridiculous golf pants too.

  Ty’s phone, sitting in the cupholder in the truck, dinged to indicate he’d received a text message. He climbed into the truck and picked it up. The text was from Cliff.

  Good job, guys. Hot-wash in an hour at the office.

  “What’s it say?” Badger asked, climbing behind the wheel.

  Ty read the message.

  “That’s high praise, man. You must have nailed it.”

  “You think he’s already talked to Hillman?”

  Badger shook his head. “Hillman was probably wired for sound and picture. The guys with him probably were too. I’d say Cliff and some of the team were watching the whole thing from the war room.”

  Ty hadn’t realized that. He might have been a little more nervous had he known that every expression he made and every word that came out of his mouth was being analyzed by the rest of the team. He put the thought out of his head. There was nothing he could do about that. He came from a background where every word, every action, every decision could come back to haunt you. He'd learned that the hard way.

  “Where do they find these lowlifes?” Ty asked.

  “Who?”

  “These people like Auroja and Hillman. Are they actors?”

  “No, they’re not actors. Usually, he hires informants for the authenticity. They know the underworld and the head games people play in situations like this. Yet they do all have one thing in common with us.”

  “What’s that?”

  “They hate pedos too.”

  7

  Vacant Furniture Factory

  Marion, Virginia

  The vast parking lot was showing its age. The furniture plant had been active for decades, employing thousands of people, but it had been empty for over ten years now and the jobs lost there were never coming back. The network of interconnected steel buildings sat rusting, the parking lot crumbling and weeds sprouting through cracks.

  Raylene turned into the parking lot three minutes early and found Lieutenant Whitt already there, her unmarked silver cruiser facing the road. Raylene pulled up window-to-window, as she’d done thousands of times during her law enforcement career.

  Whitt looked confused. “I was expecting your patrol car.”

  Raylene let out a sigh. “I don’t have a patrol car anymore, or a uniform. I’m off the
job.”

  Whitt’s confusion turned to concern.

  “I didn’t get fired,” Raylene quickly said. “I was injured on the job and the surgery didn’t completely fix it. I couldn’t meet the physical qualifications to return to work so they granted me my disability.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Whitt said. “I’ve seen it happen to a lot of folks.”

  “I’m sorry too. I loved the job. I loved being out there helping people.”

  “So, what can I do for you now that you're a civilian?”

  Raylene hesitated. “I’m going to be honest with you, but it’s not easy. The doctor who did my surgery loaded me up on these pills for the pain and I ended up becoming addicted to them. I didn’t even realize it was happening until it was too late. I’m getting treatment to kick them now and that’s part of why I wanted to meet with you.”

  Whitt looked uncomfortable now. Cops had this weird reaction to other cops who became addicted or got fired. It was like some fear that whatever flaw the fallen officer possessed was contagious and they’d become infected by sheer proximity. Like they’d be sullied by associating with someone who’d fallen from grace.

  “You know about suboxone treatment, right?” Raylene asked.

  Whitt nodded. “I've seen the information on it. Works well for some people.”

  “It’s been working for me. It cuts the cravings and makes life tolerable. I’ve been going to this new clinic in Glade Spring. It’s just been open a couple of months. It’s a smaller town and I figure there’s less chance of running into someone I know.”

  Whitt raised her eyebrows in understanding. It was one of those little stressors of the job that people on the outside didn’t get. Every time you went to a bar or a restaurant you could run into someone you’d busted. It was the same when you took your kids to the fair or a parade, any place that people gathered. “Yeah, that would suck.”

  “I was there yesterday for my appointment. The doc wanted me to meet with this counselor before I left. They said she was trying to meet all the patients.”

  “Counseling increases the chances of recovery. At least that’s what I hear.”

  “Well, the whole thing felt...off. This lady mostly asked questions about my kids.”

  “That makes sense from a child welfare perspective. They’re probably just making sure there’s nothing they need to report to social services. Healthcare providers would be mandated reporters, required by law to report incidents of neglect or abuse.”

  “Lieutenant Whitt, I think she was implying they would buy my children if I couldn’t take care of them.”

  Whitt was unable to stop herself from laughing. The sound burst from her before she realized it.

  Raylene was not laughing. “I’m serious. Completely serious.”

  Whitt smiled sympathetically but didn’t look convinced. “What did she say that gave you that impression?”

  Raylene was miffed now, feeling like she had to argue more emphatically to make herself heard. This was not her imagination. “The counselor talked about how the stress of raising kids during recovery was too much for some people. She said if that was the case for me, they had families who wanted children and had the resources to bypass the public adoption system. She said there would be cash reimbursement to the parents. What does that sound like to you?”

  Whitt did not look so amused now. She looked very serious. The story Raylene was telling raised flags for her too.

  “I swear to you, Lieutenant Whitt, every cop instinct I have is telling me there is something weird going on there. That little voice, that cop voice we hear, it was screaming at me.”

  “Run this by me again,” Whitt said, her eyes narrowed as if Raylene’s words had been somehow unclear. “She said what exactly?”

  “The doctor said I needed to meet with this counselor as part of my treatment, but she didn’t really talk about my addiction. The only thing she asked about was my kids. It’s like the entire counseling session was just a pitch for this under-the-table adoption service they were offering. The lady even gave me a card in case I changed my mind.” Raylene reached into her pants pocket and extracted the business card, which didn’t look nearly as crisp as it had looked yesterday. She exited the vehicle and limped the couple of steps over to Whitt’s door, extending the card.

  “That looks painful,” Whitt said, noting the limp.

  “The pain is better than the addiction. I’m ashamed I had to learn that the hard way.”

  Whitt stared at the card. “Can I keep this?”

  “Of course. I hope you’ll at least look into it.”

  “I promise you I will. Of course I won’t be able to keep you updated. You know how that works. You being off-the-job and all.”

  Raylene nodded. “I know. I’m out of the loop.”

  Whitt shrugged. “It’s nothing personal.”

  “Nah, I get it. If there’s any way I can help, though, just let me know.”

  “Roger that,” Whitt said. “I’ll do some digging. Thanks for this.”

  Raylene leaned back against her car and crossed her arms over her chest. She watched a car go by on the highway. “I never was one to pile on charges when I was a cop, Lieutenant. I didn’t do much digging because there was always plenty of trouble right there in plain sight. This was right there in plain sight too. This woman did everything but come out and ask me how much I wanted for my kids.”

  Whitt leaned forward and twisted the key, starting her engine. She gave Raylene a nod. “You take care of yourself. If I need anything more from you I’ll be in touch.”

  Whitt shifted into gear and pulled out of the parking lot, Raylene watching her go. Sometimes she missed the job. She missed knowing everything that was going on in the community. Life was different on this side of the fence and in this case different didn't mean better.

  8

  DKI Headquarters

  Tucson, AZ

  The meeting at El Cierdo Ciego had indeed been monitored by Cliff and the team back at the DKI headquarters. Not only had Hillman been wired with a camera and microphone, one of his companions at the next table had as well. Ty got to watch himself in action. Like a football player watching game films, it was helpful to see himself from the outside and see his poker face. Was he giving tells? Was he revealing his internal struggle as he bargained for the purchase of an underage girl?

  After a debrief Ty met privately with Cliff, the two of them remaining in the War Room while the rest of the team went on about their day.

  “You’re coming along, Ty. I don’t think you’re entirely ready to run one of our ops on your own but you’re getting there. At this point, I’d be comfortable sending you undercover for support or letting you go out on a raid. I think a few more training sessions will tighten things up.”

  “I need to work on hiding what’s going through my mind. I can see it in the video. I can see I'm doing things I wasn't aware I was doing. I guess I’m more transparent than I thought.”

  “Don't worry so much about creating this expressionless inhuman mask. That’s not a natural reaction. I think you need to work on your acting and create other behaviors that help hide what’s going on inside you. Try to look nervous and use the mannerisms of nervousness to hide your disgust. Nervousness is natural. Try to look submissive, even afraid, of the person you’re meeting with. They feed on that shit. You’re playing a role and you need to work on the little pieces of the craft that make that role convincing. And you are getting better at it. We all saw it in the clips.”

  “Any suggestions on how to do that?”

  Cliff considered the question. “Well, short of hanging out in a lot of seedy bars you might consider watching some good crime movies. Study the bad guys. Study the rats. Consider that your homework while you're off.”

  “So I’m going off the clock?”

  “Your training rotation is done. If something comes up I’ll find you. Just keep training and stay focused. Keep in touch with the doc if you feel like
you’re going off the rails.”

  Ty laughed at that comment. For people struggling with this problem, there was no sugarcoating the struggle with PTSD. They were all brutally honest about the symptoms they were experiencing. It was part of why DKI placed such an emphasis on the mental health aspects of working for the company. It was why they had their own psychologist and a team doctor.

  Cliff stood and Ty took that as a sign the meeting was over. Cliff was constantly on the run and probably had places to be. The guy never stopped working.

  Ty stuck out his hand. “Thank you again for this opportunity. I really appreciate it.”

  Cliff grinned. “The pleasure is ours, brother. It’s a big fight and we need all the help we can get.”

  Ty headed off to the team room and collected his gear. DKI maintained a house within walking distance of the office. It was a place for the operations team to crash when they were in town. Ty headed in that direction, booking a flight home as he walked. After finishing that, he booked a ride to the airport and then jogged the remaining distance to the house.

  Ty wasn’t big on unpacking. When he traveled he tended to use his open baggage as a dresser. He figured why hang stuff up if you didn’t care about wrinkles, right? As he finished zipping his carry-on closed his phone notified him that his ride had pulled up outside. Ty took one last look around the room to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind.

  The two weeks he’d been here had been amazing. He’d been on an emotional high the entire time and hadn’t had to deal with a lot of symptoms. That was the one thing he dreaded about leaving. He couldn’t imagine that a week or two at home would be as carefree. There were a lot of emotions waiting for him at his home and he wasn’t excited about the reunion.