“She was here a while ago, but she left to go on a date. She’s working tonight.”
Brianna shivered at the thought of Kaylee having sex with some stranger.
“My mama’s looking for me,” Brianna cried. “I have to get out of here.”
Tameka laughed. “Your mama ain’t lookin’ for you, girl. She’s probably in bed with her boyfriend right now, not even thinking about you.”
“My mother doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Brianna shot back.
“So she’s gay?” Kym asked.
“No!”
“Don’t try to act like you’re all goody-two-shoes,” Kym said. “What we do ain’t no big deal. Clint and Freda buy us lots of stuff.” She stuck out her arm. “Look at my new bracelet. On Saturday, we’re going to get our nails done. If you act right, they might let you come too.”
“I don’t need nobody to buy me nothing!” Brianna shouted. “I just wanna go home!”
“You really don’t get it,” Tameka said. “They ain’t lettin’ you go home.” Her tight leather skirt barely covered her privates. Her thin top was stretched tight over her protruding belly.
“I have to get to work.” Tameka yawned. “I got the lunch crowd today.”
“Take me with you!” Brianna begged.
“You can’t do the lunch crowd yet,” Tameka said gently. “You gotta pay your dues first.”
Tameka bounded out of the room.
Brianna looked all around. “Where are we?”
“Don’t matter,” Kym said. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
“If it don’t matter, then tell me. Where are we?”
“Somewhere in the San Fernando Valley,” Kym said. “That’s all I know. From the backyard, you can see the mountains. You need to be glad you ain’t in the hood no more. If you don’t act right, they might take you back there. It’s way nicer here.”
“Why do you stay here? Why don’t you run away?”
“And go where? This is way better than the projects. I hate Nickerson Gardens.”
“Don’t you miss your family?”
“Hell naw. And they don’t miss me. My mama’s too busy getting high and I got tired of all her boyfriends trying to have sex with me. This is my family. I have a daddy now and a lot of wives-in-law. Everybody in here is tight. It’s all good.”
Brianna had no idea what a wife-in-law was. “But they make you have sex with men. How can you do that?”
“To get paid.” Kym looked at Brianna with her face in a scrunch. “It’s just sex. You can make more money in one night doing what we do than you can make in two weeks slaving at Wal-Mart. You’ll see.”
Brianna had to get this girl to understand that she would never see. “I’m not doing that!”
“You should’ve never run away from home then,” Kym said.
“I didn’t run away. They kidnapped me!” Brianna began to cry again. “I thought I was going to meet Jaden.”
Kym slapped her thigh and started laughing. “You one of them girls that got scammed. I can’t believe you fell for that. You stupid.”
Just then, Freda stepped into the room.
“Good to see you’re awake. Hopefully, that beatin’ Clint gave you will make you a little more cooperative. You can’t go around biting and scratching people.”
Brianna eyed the woman. If she got close enough, she would claw her face again.
“We’re putting you to work tomorrow,” Freda said. “So get ready.”
Chapter 34
Day Two: 1:10 p.m.
Bonnie Flanagan watched the clock on the wall of her classroom like it might self-destruct any second. When the bell finally rang signaling the end of the period, she charged straight for the administration office. She walked right past the school secretary and barged into the principal’s office without bothering to knock.
“Did you hear about Brianna Walker?” she asked, wringing her hands. “Her uncle came by this morning. She’s missing. All the kids are talking about it. It’s happening again.”
In her early fifties, Bonnie looked good for her age but had the body of a borderline anorexic. One of a handful of white teachers at Maverick Middle School, Bonnie considered teaching a calling. She cared about her students as if she’d birthed them herself.
Manuel Ortiz took his time swiveling his chair around to face her. Most teachers were afraid of Mr. Ortiz, with his sunbaked, pockmarked skin and badly receding hairline. But Bonnie not only had close to thirty years of teaching under her belt, she had home-grown bravado acquired on the streets of South Boston. There was nothing the principal could do to her and if he did try something, she’d sue his fat butt.
“Please don’t tell me you’re back in here with that crazy theory of yours again.”
“Brianna would make the fourth girl from this school to go missing in the last eighteen months.” Bonnie’s aqua-blue eyes were near tears. “I don’t understand why you’re ignoring it.”
“I’m ignoring it because there’s no connection. I heard some of the kids talking about it this morning. Brianna Walker supposedly ran off with some boy on Facebook. I have to say, though, I am a little surprised. I pegged her for a good girl.”
“She is a good girl. We need to contact the police. For some reason they haven’t made the connection. Somebody’s snatching our girls.”
“Like I told you the last time you came in here with this nonsense, I’m not going to the police and neither are you. And I hope you didn’t mention your unsubstantiated theory to Brianna’s uncle. Did you?”
Bonnie grimaced, then slowly shook her head. She had wanted to share the information with Brianna’s uncle, but feared Ortiz’s wrath.
“Do you know how many schools in Compton have the honor of being a California Distinguished School? Just one. Maverick Middle School. My school. We don’t need the bad publicity.”
“Oh, I get it. It’s all about you. You’re looking for your next promotion.”
Everyone knew that Ortiz was dying to be Superintendent. There were rumors that he’d been accused of inappropriate contact with a tenth grader when he was an assistant principal at Centennial High School. Bonnie doubted the stories. There was no way he’d continue to be so affectionate with the students if he’d gone through that kind of ordeal. But then again, Ortiz was arrogant enough to think that he was untouchable.
“It’s not about me,” Ortiz huffed. “It’s about the students. And they don’t need this kind of bad press. Not when you have absolutely no facts to go on.”
“Well, we should at least let Brianna’s mother know about the other girls.”
Ortiz leaned in and pointed a fat finger across the desk. “You’re not talking to anybody. Do you understand?”
Bonnie wasn’t crazy. There was a connection. There had to be. She’d taught three of the four girls. They were all smart and well-behaved. Girls like that didn’t run off.
Bonnie left the principal’s office and walked across the hall to see if the assistant principal was in. She again entered without knocking.
“Sometimes, I want to choke that fat pig,” she said, flopping into a chair in front of Richard Wainright’s desk.
“And good morning to you too,” he said with a curious smile. A slender man with lush black hair, he appeared unusually tall even from a sitting position. “What did our illustrious principal do to piss you off today?”
Richard Wainright was Ortiz’s second in command. The teachers liked him because he never took sides. He stayed out of any political mess and you could always count on him to do the right thing where the kids were concerned.
“He still refuses to tell the police about those other missing girls,” Bonnie said. “We should’ve told Brianna’s uncle about them.”
Wainright closed a folder and set it aside. “No, we shouldn’t have.”
He had heard Bonnie’s theory before and, like Ortiz, discounted it.
“We have absolutely no evidence to support a link between those cases,” Wainright said. “Why upset the fa
mily like that? For all we know, Brianna may have actually run off. It’s hard to know what these kids are doing on the Internet.”
“Did you hear anything her uncle said? There is no boy. It was probably some sexual predator.”
Wainright tugged at his expensive tie. He always dressed as if he was on his way to some important social affair. Today, he was wearing a stylish navy-blue three-piece. All the other teachers assumed that Wainright had family money. Only Bonnie knew the truth. Wainright had confided in her that he had his broker’s license and regularly sold real estate on the side.
“Four girls have gone missing in eighteen months,” Bonnie pressed. “Somebody’s kidnapping our girls.”
“But what evidence do you have that they’ve been kidnapped?”
“I don’t have any evidence,” Bonnie snapped. “I just have a feeling.”
Wainright’s forehead creased. “And that’s what you told Ortiz?”
“Yes, and he ordered me not to contact the police or Brianna’s family.”
“C’mon, Bonnie. We just got our rating as a Distinguished School. We don’t need this kind of publicity.”
“You sound just like him,” Bonnie sniffed. “I don’t understand why you’re so afraid of him.”
Wainright bristled. “I’m not afraid of him. I just find it more productive to stay on his good side. I like it here. I’ve seen Ortiz ship people out of here for looking at him the wrong way. You might want to think about that.”
“I thought you, of all people, cared about our students. We’re obligated by law to report any suspicion of harm to a child.”
“That’s not fair,” Wainright sputtered. “You know I care about our kids just as much as you do. If you had some evidence to support this gut feeling of yours, I’d call the police myself.”
Bonnie’s shoulders drooped. She wasn’t crazy. And she didn’t care what Ortiz, Wainright, or anybody else had to say.
Somebody was kidnapping their girls.
Chapter 35
Day Two: 6:35 p.m.
Since getting word of Brianna’s disappearance, Dre had been surviving on caffeine as his primary source of energy and he had a visible case of the shakes to prove it.
Following the failed rescue on 67th Street, Dre had parted ways with Apache, but told him to remain on standby. He needed some time alone to contemplate his next move. He would find out if Angela knew how to get in contact with Loretha Johnson. Maybe one of Angela’s clients had stayed at Loretha’s home. He’d forgotten to ask her when they’d talked earlier. It was getting harder and harder for him to think straight.
Dre had expected to have heard from The Shepherd by now. Obviously calling him out all over town had not been enough to smoke him out.
Sitting in his Jetta on Adams in front of The Cork, his favorite neighborhood hangout, Dre leaned his head back against the headrest. For the first time since this ordeal had begun, he took a moment to pray in earnest. He’d done some bad things in his life, so he had some nerve asking for God’s help. But he swore to the Big Man that if he got Brianna back safe, he wouldn’t even jaywalk.
He climbed out of the car and headed into the darkened restaurant and bar.
“What’s up, my brother?” The burly bouncer waved him through without a pat down. “You look like crap. You okay?”
Dre hadn’t had a bath or shaved since learning of Brianna’s disappearance and didn’t want to know what he looked like.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
He stepped inside and took a seat at the bar. The soft jazz calmed him. While he hoped to hear from Shep soon, his next move was to focus on finding Loretha Johnson. He’d head back to the track in Compton later tonight to look for her.
Dottie eyed him from the other side of the bar. “You okay?”
Dre fidgeted with his hands. “Nope.”
Dottie was barely five-feet and smiled more than anyone Dre had ever met. Their friendship went all the way back to high school.
“Can I help?”
“I wish you could,” he said. “For now, how about some red beans ‘n rice?”
Dottie left to place his order and returned with a Pepsi without Dre having to ask for it.
“You wanna talk about it?”
He’d almost gotten with Dottie once, a long, long time ago. But he came to his senses and decided that he didn’t need to mess up a good friendship.
“Somebody snatched my niece, Brianna. Some dude who considers himself a pimp. He’s trafficking little girls like they’re crack.” Dre paused. “I’m going to get her back and then I’m going to kill him.”
Dottie covered her mouth, then dropped her eyes. Something in her face conveyed more than shock.
“You know something?” Dre asked.
“Who’s the pimp?” she asked softly.
“Rodney Merriweather. They call him The Shepherd.”
Dottie closed her eyes then slowly swung her head from left to right. “That’s bad news. Really bad news.”
Dre sat up straighter on his stool. “You know him?”
“Only from what I’ve heard from people sitting where you are. He’s taken the pimping game to a whole new level. He’s heartless.”
“You know where I can find him?”
She shook her head. “I hear he’s very secretive. Some of the people closest to him don’t even know where he lives.”
Another waitress set a plate in front of him. Dre scooped a spoonful of rice into his mouth.
“I’m looking for this woman he used to pimp,” Dre said, talking and chewing. “I’m hoping she might have some useful information. Her name’s Loretha Johnson. You heard of her?”
Dottie’s face brightened. “Yeah. She runs Harmony House. My church, West Angeles, donates food and clothing to her place.”
Dre stopped chewing and set down his fork. “You know where the house is?”
“You can’t go there. It’s like a safe house. Nobody’s supposed to even know that the girls stay there. If you show up, they’ll think you’re up to no good. Loretha don’t play.”
“Just tell me where it is. I really need to speak to her.”
Dottie stuck her hands into the pockets of her jeans and waited several beats. “It’s not far from here. In Lafayette Square. It’s one of those big old houses with wood paneling and tons of bedrooms. I think up to fourteen girls live there at a time.”
“You have the address?”
“I told you. You can’t go there.”
“I don’t plan to. I just want to talk to Loretha. I’ll wait until she leaves and talk to her away from the house. I promise. So do you have the address?”
Dottie looked off. “No,” she said uneasily. “But I can probably get it from one of my church members. How about if I just get you Loretha’s telephone number instead?”
“How about if you get me her number and her address? I promise you, I’ll call first.”
Dottie still appeared hesitant.
Dre leaned in over the bar. “Please. She may be my best shot at finding my niece.”
Chapter 36
Day Two: 7:15 p.m.
Address in hand, Dre left The Cork and, contrary to his promise to Dottie, he drove straight to Lafayette Square. He had called Loretha’s number three times, but his calls went straight to voicemail.
Dre had been floored when he entered the four-square-block enclave. He was familiar with Baldwin Hills, Ladera Heights and View Park, where a lot of blacks with cash lived. But the stately homes in Lafayette Square rivaled those in Beverly Hills. The only downside was having to drive through a rundown neighborhood to get there.
There was only one street leading into and out of Lafayette Square. All of them dead-ended so it was impossible to circle the block. After locating Harmony House, he parked half a block away and turned off the engine.
Dre noticed someone peek from behind a curtain at a house across the street. It was after seven o’clock and just beginning to get dark. The people inside probably figured he
was up to no- good. He hoped they didn’t call the police.
From what he’d been told, Loretha walked the track three or four nights a week in search of runaways and girls who wanted to get away from their pimps. He hoped to spot her leave the house tonight. If she did, he planned to follow her.
Dre had nodded off when his own snoring woke him up. It was close to eight o’clock now. He couldn’t sit here all night. He fired up the engine and drove the car several feet, stopping directly across from the address Dottie had given him.
He got out and crossed the street. He was surprised that the front gate wasn’t locked. He headed up the short walkway, mentally rehearsing what he would say.
My name is Andre Thomas. I need to talk to you about The Shepherd. He kidnapped my niece.
Dre stepped onto the wide porch and rang the doorbell. He was certain he heard movement inside. Then he saw the curtain move ever so slightly.
“I need to talk to Loretha Johnson,” he yelled through the door. “I’m trying to find my niece. She was kidnapped by The Shepherd. This is for real. I don’t mean anybody any harm. I—”
“Don’t move!” Dre felt the cold steel of a gun pressed to the back of his head. “Put your hands where I can see them.”
Dre slowly raised his hands in the air.
From behind, someone roughly patted him down.
“I don’t have a gun. I just wanted to—”
“This is a private home and you’re not welcome here. You’re going to turn around and leave.”
“I’m looking for Loretha Johnson.”
“I’m Loretha Johnson. I don’t know you and I don’t want to know you. I just want you to get the hell off my property.”
Dre made a move to turn around.
Loretha slammed the butt of the gun against his head, which halted his movement.
“Ow!”
“I asked you to leave.”
“My niece, Brianna—”
“Do you think I’m stupid? I saw you parked up the street. One of my neighbors called me because she thought you might be trouble. I don’t like pimps showing up on my doorstep trying to take my girls. If I blow your brains out all over this porch, I won’t spend a day in jail because you’re trespassing. And just so you know, I’d personally like to blow away you and every other pimp on the planet. So if I were you, I wouldn’t say another word. I would just leave.”
Anybody's Daughter (Angela Evans Series No. 2) Page 13