TRAFFICKED: A Mex Anderson Novel

by Peg Brantley

  “Get out of here. Get out of my house. Get out!”

  As Cade and Rachel got in Cade’s SUV Rachel said, “I’m sorry. I’ve messed things up. I—”

  “You didn’t mess anything up.” Cade started the engine and drove out of the circular drive. At the street she turned right and then pulled over.

  They sat.

  And sat.

  Rachel fidgeted. “I did something wrong. Please tell me what I did wrong.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Why are we here?”

  “Because if I’m right, and I usually am, it would be a waste of time and gas to return to the hotel.” Cade put her phone on the dash.

  “What did you think of Adele Halston?” Cade asked.

  Rachel closed her eyes and then looked out the windshield, like the trees and manicured lawns and flowerbeds on both sides of the road would provide either answers or security.

  She shifted in her seat, but stared ahead. “I think she’s troubled. I wasn’t aware of the other loss she experienced.”

  “We all experience losses, Rachel. You know that as well as anyone. The quality of the next part of our lives, or the entirety of our lives, depends on how we respond to them. We make choices. We can dwell in the loss, giving power to who or what caused it, or we can take it and turn it into something positive.”

  “What was yours, Cade?”

  “I’ve had a few. You can’t get to be my age, done what I’ve done, and not feel sadness. But my first one, my big one, was a sister I loved who took her own life. She’d gotten involved in a cult, regretted her decision but felt stuck, and ended her life.”

  “You found her. You found the body.”

  “I did.”

  “And that loss made you help others trapped in religious cults.”

  Cade nodded. “And now I’m working on a twist.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Trafficking cults.”

  Rachel processed those words then chuckled. “Yeah, I get that. False gods come in all kinds of disguises.”

  Cade’s phone rang and she looked at the ID and winked at Rachel. “Like I said.”

  “Hi, Adele.”

  “I’ve thought about what you said. About doing the right thing for Alexis.”

  “Yes?”

  “Can you come back? And bring that girl? That prostitute?”

  “I can come back. I’ll ask Rachel if she’s willing to join me. But Adele?”

  Silence.

  “She’s not a prostitute. She’s an advocate for your daughter. If you’re not willing to accord her the respect she deserves, I can’t guarantee that she’ll be willing to help.”

  Silence.

  “I understand. I was wrong. Please tell her I was wrong.”

  “You can tell her yourself when you see her.”

  The document goes into incredible detail about Greiner’s alleged decision to allow her pre-teen child to have sex with Thomas Keske, a 23-year-old man from Australia, with references to vibrators, lube and articles such as “8 Things Every Woman Should Try in Bed.”

  Julie Greiner Accused of Pimping 12-Year-Old Daughter: Orgasm Tip, 50 Shades of Lube

  —By Michael Roberts

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “Hi, Amanda. I don’t know if you remember me.” Mex smiled at the receptionist at the fitness center as he handed her his card. “This is Darius Johnson, my partner.”

  People in various workout clothes, most of which would buy a week’s worth of groceries, arrived to achieve the perfect bodies to go with their perfect lives. Tone meant everything, along with the trendiest workout gear.

  “Of course I do. To tell you the truth, Mr. Anderson, most of the people who come in here every day of every week don’t know my name. I pay attention when someone considers me worthy of one.”

  “Why do you work here?”

  “Paying my way through school. Plus I have access to all of the equipment after hours.”

  “Do you have the time to actually use any of it?”

  Amanda laughed. “No, not really. It sounded super when they offered me the job though.” She smiled brightly. “You looking for Donny?”

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact. Is he working today?”

  “Your timing is perfect. Not only is he here, but he doesn’t have a client on the books for another thirty minutes.”

  Mex looked up at the catwalk. The administrative offices and employee lounge were within easy view. If Donny saw him standing down her he was likely to bolt.

  “You want to surprise him, don’t you?” Amanda asked.

  “Are you asking because you want to warn him?”

  “No way. He’s a prick. If you can put the screws to him, I’m more than happy to help.”

  “Okay. How do I do that?”

  “We have a VIP Lounge. It’s on the third floor and requires a code to enter.” Amanda stripped a piece of paper from a pad and jotted down some numbers. “Is he gonna be able to bring blowback down on me?” she asked as she handed the paper to Mex. “Could I lose my job?”

  Mex looked at the young girl who continued to hand him the code. He couldn’t lie. “You might lose your job, Amanda. But if what I think will happen actually does, you’ll be one of the heroes. If you’re fired and don’t get a better offer right away, contact me. I promise you I’ll find you something.”

  “It doesn’t matter. If Donny had something to do with this, he has to be caught. I’m cool with a hiccup in my cash flow.”

  Mex wanted to hug her.

  “Go up to the lounge. I’ll page Donny and tell him he has a potential client there. I can’t guarantee nobody will walk in, but you’ll probably have the lounge to yourself.”

  Mex and Darius entered the elevator and selected the button for the third floor. A keypad appeared and Mex entered the numbers Amanda had given him. When the elevator doors opened it was clear they were at the VIP Lounge.

  Two men, in what Mex called penguin suits, rushed into the main room. One moved toward them. “What can we get for you?”

  Mex eyed him and took a breath. What the hell, he thought. “Two Macallan 18s. And leave the bottle.”

  When left to themselves, Mex and Darius looked around the opulent room. Mex had a hard time tying what he was seeing to a fitness joint. It looked more like a place for bankers or lawyers. Polished wainscoting, thick carpet on top of thicker padding, perfectly placed lighting next to butter-leather seating. Tables arranged to take in the views, linens in place. Every table held fresh flowers and a candle, and there were at least three enormous flower arrangements spread throughout the room.

  “Shit,” Darius said. “I’m changing my mind about investing in a gym.”

  One of the penguins returned with a tray, two glasses filled with an amber liquid, a capped bottle next to them. “I hope this meets your expectations, sir.”

  Mex took the tray and sat it on a table. “I’m sure it will be fine. Now leave us. We have business to discuss.”

  “Yes, sir. Should you require service, simply press the star key on any of the phones in the room.”

  “Thank you, we’ll be fine.”

  They were alone. Each took a full glass, sipped, and moved away. Instinctively, Mex and Darius found themselves in a corner that would be behind Donny when he entered the room. No reason to give him an easy escape. Keep it simple.

  They sat their drinks down on a table and waited.

  The elevator doors opened and Donny walked into the VIP area, optimistically looking around for someone with enough swag to score the third floor.

  Then he saw Mex.

  Donny spun back to the elevator but Darius stood in the way.

  “Aw, shit. What are you trying to do to me? I told you what I know.”

  “Nope, Donny. I don’t think you did. We have a lot to talk about.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Alexis Halston wasn’t the first girl you sold, was she?”

  “I don’t
know what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course you don’t.” Mex waited. “Do you want me to spell it out to you or do you want to gain a few points with early cooperation?”

  “Like I said, you have the wrong dude.”

  “Well, Donny, why don’t you have a seat and tell us why?”

  “I don’t have to do anything. You have no authority.”

  Darius moved to stand directly in front of the personal trainer. “Look, you can help us or we can upend your life so bad you’ll never figure out which way is up.”

  “You think because you’re a tough, black bad-ass you can scare me?”

  “I think I just did. Sit down punk.”

  Donny flung an arm in the air and turned his back. “I don’t need this shit.”

  Darius grabbed Donny’s arm and yanked it behind the trainer’s back. “My partner asked you nicely to sit down and talk to us. Trust me, it’s in your best interest to cooperate.” Darius walked Donny to a chair and thrust him into it.

  “I could have you arrested.”

  “Really? Really? Are you going to play that card? You’re even dumber than you look.”

  Mex lifted his glass. “Would you like a drink?”

  “Yeah, I would.”

  “Darius, will you ask our friends for another glass?”

  While Darius went to a phone to call the waiters, Mex leaned over the table to watch Donny’s face. “You know, people make terrible decisions for what they think are the right reasons all the time. I’ve experienced that in my own family. Making a bad choice doesn’t necessarily make you a bad person.” He peered into the eyes of the young man in front of him. “Do you agree, Donny?”

  Donny’s eyes flew to a far corner of the lounge, then he met Mex’s gaze. “I guess.”

  “You ever make a bad choice, Donny?”

  “I’m pretty sure everybody has.”

  “You ever make a terrible choice?”

  “Probably.”

  One of the penguins emerged with a glass.

  Mex thanked the man then poured Donny some of the Macallan. Darius took his seat at the table.

  “Well, Donny,” Mex said, “this is the best chance you’ll have to talk about it, and by ‘it’ I mean Alexis.”

  “Do you find Alexis attractive?” Darius asked.

  “Sure man, who wouldn’t? The chick was hot.”

  “Was?” Mex asked.

  “She’s gone. That’s the only reason I said ‘was.’ Don’t be reading shit into what I say.”

  “How much money did you owe before Alexis went missing?” Darius asked.

  “None of your business.”

  “We can find out.”

  “And today? How much money do you owe today?”

  Donny sniffed and squirmed in his chair.

  “Donny, look at me.” Mex waited. “We know what you did. And we know what you did out of at least one other fitness center.” Mex took a sip of his drink. “I’ll be honest with you. We can’t prove everything right this minute, but we will. It won’t take long. Mr. Johnson and I are that good.”

  Donny began to lift the glass to his mouth but had to use both hands to minimize the shaking.

  “Here’s my idea. Are you interested?”

  A blank stare was Donny’s answer.

  “My thinking is that if Alexis’s life is in danger, helping us now might make things look better for you. If she’s killed, you’ll be looking at a whole other scenario. And you’ll have no edge.”

  Donny drained the glass.

  “Are you ready to talk?”

  A nod.

  Here in this country, people are being bought, sold, and smuggled like modern-day slaves, often beaten, starved, and forced to work as prostitutes or to take jobs as migrant, domestic, restaurant, or factory workers with little or no pay.

  -FBI

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  OLIVIA

  Dear Diary,

  I wish I was grown and a vet already. You can count on animals. Not so much people.

  Being twelve sucks. Being twelve in my family sucks more.

  Tonight all my parents can talk about is the great cut Ethan made in his football game. How many times do I have to hear them describe his terrific moves? Dad especially. All he really seems to care about outside of work is Ethan. If I had been a boy I doubt there’d ever been a third kid. I probably disappointed my dad so they had to try again.

  And get this, tomorrow Mom is taking Sarah to get on birth control pills. Are you kidding me? After months of shouting and threats, they cave? I’m sick of Sarah’s drama. And sick of my parents paying attention to it.

  I don’t understand how Sarah and Ethan can each be so special to my parents while I sit here waiting for someone to notice me. Thank goodness for Madison, and my online friends. I’d be totally alone otherwise.

  Totally.

  * * *

  Dear Diary,

  I’m in love!!!!!!!!!

  Maddy knows everything. I was on the phone with her forever. Maddy asked a lot of questions and doesn’t seem to get everything, but she will. In the end she’ll come around and not be jealous. Yeah, that’s what she is. Jealous.

  His name is Ian. Isn’t that a great name?

  He loves me. And he hasn’t even met me! We’ve been talking on Facebook for over a month from Maddy’s house. He knows everything about me and I know everything about him.

  He’s older. But not creepy older. Like 20s or 30s or something. He’s 16. And cute!!!

  Ian and Olivia. Ian and Livvy. Doesn’t that sound perfect?

  * * *

  “I know, Maddy, right? It’s like a miracle.” We’re at a table by ourselves in the school cafeteria. As usual, no one is paying any attention to us, but still I keep my voice low. “We’re perfect for each other.”

  Maddy takes a spoonful of her fruit cup. She swallows. “No. Listen to me. Have you watched those TV movies where the people they met online are psychos? I’m not saying this isn’t a miracle. I’m only saying you don’t know enough about him. I mean really know stuff about him. You might be rushing things. It’s kind of early in the relationship, don’t you think?”

  “A psycho? Are you kidding me? You’re just jealous.” I feel a tingle of doubt.

  She puts her spoon in the cup and we both watch as it tilts to the side. Maddy adjusts the spoon and the cup stays level. “I’m not jealous, I’m worried. You can’t just go meet this guy somewhere. You know there are bad people on the internet.”

  “I get that. It’s been drilled into us. But Ian is different. We have a relationship. We have a connection. People get matched up on the internet too, don’t forget. Once we meet in person, you’ll see. He’ll be everything I think he is. And I’m not going to meet him, he’s coming to meet me.”

  “Have you stopped to think how a sixteen-year-old boy is coming to meet you?”

  “He has an uncle who lives twenty minutes from me. It’s like destiny.” Why do I feel like I’m arguing my point?

  “Where are you supposed to meet?”

  “Utah Park.”

  “You’re joking. How come you’re not meeting at either his uncle’s house or your house? And how are you going to get there?”

  “Ian wants our first meeting to be private. Personal. Romantic.”

  “Why Utah Park? It’s big. Why not one of the smaller parks by your house?”

  “Did you hear me say private?” I’m tired of Maddy’s attitude. “Besides, Utah is halfway. We’re meeting by the parking lot.”

  “So he isn’t coming to meet you, you are going to meet him.”

  “What’s the difference? We’re in love.”

  “How are you getting there?”

  I feel my face get warm. “I told my mom I’m going swimming.”

  “What time?”

  “Four o’clock. After school today.”

  “Can I come?”

  I hesitate. While I would love to share this moment with my BFF, Ian has his own
ideas. And they don’t include Maddy. I remember an online conversation he and I had a week or so ago. He didn’t want me sharing our relationship with anyone. What we have is special. Between the two of us. It’s our secret. I’m not going to tell anyone yet, and I don’t want you to either. Would he be upset that I’d already talked to Maddy about him? Hopefully he’ll never find out. But even if he does he’ll know it’s because I love him.

  “Don’t be mad, but no. You can’t come. This is between Ian and me.” Once I say those words I feel so grown up. I’m convinced I’m doing the right thing. I don’t have to think about it any more. Cool.

  She looks straight into my eyes, her voice cracking slightly, as she tells me the number she wants me to remember—43,200. … When she was 12 she was targeted by a trafficker who lured her away using kind words and a fast car. … By her own estimate, 43,200 is the number of times she was raped after falling into the hands of human traffickers.

  She says up to 30 men a day, seven days a week, for the best part of four years.

  Human trafficking survivor: I was raped 43,200 times, by Rafael Romo, for The CNN Freedom Project

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Maddy sat on the wide bumper of a pickup truck in the last row of the parking lot. She held her phone in her hands, praying she wouldn’t have to use it. She knew Livvy would be pissed off at her for even being in the area. But someone needed to keep a lookout. All Livvy could see was love.

  A lookout who would decide whether the appropriate call would be to 911 or parents. Parents who might or might not be available.

  911 was looking stronger every minute. She hoped desperately she wouldn’t have to choose either one.

  Livvy’s mom’s minivan rolled up and Maddy watched as her friend hopped out, a gym bag over one shoulder. She had to give her friend points for production. Livvy was playing the role.

  She watched Mrs. Campbell drive away. As the minivan disappeared into traffic, Livvy emerged from the building, phone in her hands, thumbs flying. She barreled around the corner and headed into the park.