by Ronda Pauley
“Breakfast? Really?”
“Don’t worry. I can cook. It won’t poison you!”
“Daddy, I’ll be out in five minutes or less.”
Before she was dressed, wearing the same clothes she had on yesterday, Tina could hear bacon sizzling. She walked out into an almost fully furnished living room and a functional kitchen.
“What did I do? Sleep for a week?”
“Over twelve hours. You needed it.”
“I could go back to sleep right now,” Tina said with a slight cough. “I’m so tired!”
Her father started putting plates out, dishes Tina had never seen, and said, “Sorry, kid, no more sleeping today, not until after your appointments. They start at 3.”
“For what?”
“All sorts of things and the sooner we get on it, the better. Your fairy godmother thinks you need medical attention, for starts.”
“She does sort of look like a fairy godmother flitting around with her gossamer layers that look like wings!” Tina said with a laugh. “She bought me vitamins.”
“She’s taken a real interest in you,” Tina’s father said. He put some food on the table and sat down with Tina.
“Yeah. You’ve been busy, too!” Tina said, grabbing toast. “Breakfast is wonderful! The apartment looks great! So comfy! There’s even a TV!”
“Cable comes tomorrow. Don’t worry. I’ll be here when the cable guy comes. Want milk?”
“Sure, but really?” Tina asked. “I know you have to work.”
“Little Miss, I have some catching up to do in the parenting department. Work can wait.”
Tina silently ate and smiled at her father in between bites. Maybe she did have a fairy godmother. Mrs. Hightower seemed to be working magic on her father. She saw the note her father left when he went out to get some groceries, just in case she woke up. He even put a little heart on it.
“Tina, there are all sorts of things I want to ask but I’m afraid to hear the answers. A part of me needs to know, but mostly I’m just glad you’re alive and here with me. At least I know now that you didn’t run away. I did some real soul-searching last night. In fact, I didn’t sleep at all. I knew I wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping on the floor so I sat here, made a list of what we need, made a few phone calls and waited for delivery. Then I started going over things I need to do differently.”
“We have a new home and a whole new life,” Tina said. “We’ll be fine. And you found me! I knew you would!”
Her father’s face grew darker. He sat staring at his plate a moment before he spoke, his voice gravelly.
“I didn’t do anything. I reported you missing, that’s all, and provided clothes and other bits of information about your friends. Evidently you met someone at a mall. I didn’t even know.”
“Yeah, and he was supposed to take me to church the day I went missing. That’s what he said.”
“I guess I knew you were on your way to church that morning but I didn’t know who with. But then I thought you ran away with him.”
“No. I did not run away. I was…”
Her father interrupted. His voice turned angry as he said, “I know now what you were doing. That’s how the FBI found you. They saw your picture online, advertising.”
“What?” Tina’s voice was loud. “What are you talking about?”
The accusing tone in his voice made her feel like she’d been tried and found guilty overnight, not a tone she expected from her father, even after the other girls at the cantina warned her that she’d never be accepted by her family again. Ramon even said it. He said the cantina was their home, that they were now a family. But it wasn’t a home. It was a brutal, uncaring place.
“The ad, where you said what you would do to please men. You called yourself Carmelicious Candy, but the photo was definitelyYOU!”
Tina started crying hard, so hard she couldn’t speak. She didn’t know about any picture online but she couldn’t even get the words out. The more she cried, the more she coughed.
Her father waited for the noise to stop before he continued, “They were able to track the IP address and found you working there in that brothel across the border.”
The tone of his voice was awful, louder now, harsh and condemning. This was the story he managed to piece together and now he believed it. His mind was settled. If she could even get the words out, to explain what really happened, would he listen?
Tina, sobbing uncontrollably, ran from the table to her bedroom. The tears were so thick in her eyes she could barely see. She closed the door and sprawled out on her new bed, crying hard, her hands shaking uncontrollably, her whole body trembling. She didn’t hear her father approach the door or hear him knock. She couldn’t hold back the tears any more than she could get the terrible shaking in her hands to stop.
TWENTY-FIVE
Arriving early by taxi at the Baltimore/Washington International Airport on a foggy morning meant delays, and Abbi and Louise found themselves moving quickly past people sprawled on the floor who were trying to sleep off the night or catching a nap before catching a delayed flight.
“Is our flight to DC delayed?” Abbi asked as she handed her boarding pass to an agent to check.
“This doesn’t say DC. It says Roanoke, Virginia. Has there been a mistake?”
Abbi looked at Louise.
“I just assumed we were going to DC,” Louise said. “Why wouldn’t we?”
“No clue, but I guess we’re going to Roanoke,” Abbi said.
“Maybe we need to talk,” the boarding agent said. “Are you ladies working as escorts?”
Abbi’s eyes grew huge.
“You mean… Absolutely not!”
She showed the woman her very official-looking badge and her other documents.
“We’re with the government,” Louise said. “I just thought our first meeting was in D.C. today.”
The airline agent took pity on the two young ladies and managed to seat them on a commuter jet.
Although their boarding pass had them going to Roanoke, Mrs. Hightower’s instructions didn’t explain why or what they were to do there. Her instructions simply said to await further instructions from Gate Keeper.
“Wouldn’t it really have been smarter for them to send us by train into the city?” Louise asked.
“Ours is not to wonder why. Ours is just to do or die,” Abbi said. “I heard that somewhere. It applies.”
The commuter jet was already crowded. Overhead luggage compartments were filled to capacity, so Abbi and Louise stuffed their carry-ons under their seats. The rest of their luggage would arrive later, separate flight.
Abbi sat by the window since Louise didn’t want to see out. While they rose above the fog, Abbi considered their risks and what her mother had done to bring about this mess. Gradually, as they flew over mountains, she began to realize that this plane was taking them farther from Washington, D.C., not closer.
“I thought Roanoke was an island,” she said. “We’re going west.”
“Sometimes they have to fly west to get east,” Louise said. “Air currents.”
Abbi turned on the phone Mrs. Hightower had given her. Against airline policy, she checked its maps.
“Roanoke, the city! The map shows we’re going to be in the mountains, Louise!”
She checked the phone’s itinerary for the day. It said TBA.
“What’s TBA?” she asked.
“To Be Announced. That doesn’t make any sense at all. Why are we wearing office clothes?”
“Mrs. Hightower knows exactly what she’s doing. There’s no mistake. The boarding passes were made with our new names.”
Abbi began to realize how quickly things could change. She practiced the script she had memorized. While Abbi ran through the lines silently, Louise slept, as if her brain was on overload and she had powered down.
Abbi also studied one of the folders she brought from her mother’s briefcase, folders that held unsubmitted reports that might help identify th
e people responsible for her mother’s kidnapping. She picked one at random and began seeing the evidence of what Mrs. Hightower had said, particularly an increase in the number of missing and exploited children in cities in the United States.
The actual flight only took a few minutes. As the small plane approached the Roanoke Regional Airport, Abbi looked out and saw a clear view of the trees and rooftops and a noticeable absence of fog. When they landed, Abbi’s federal-issue phone beeped. A text.
Louise woke up. Abbi showed her the text.
GO TO THE AIRPORT MAIN ENTRANCE. LOOK FOR A MAN WITH RED SHOELACES. HIS SIGN WILL SAY ‘MISS KOWALSKI’ AND ‘MISS SOUFFLÉ’.
Their new I.D. badges from Mrs. Hightower were in their handbags, ready to put on. She texted back.
WE’RE WEARING WIGS. MINE’S BLONDE.
Louise said, “Ask him what we’re doing here.”
Abbi texted.
LOUISE WANTS TO KNOW WHAT WE’RE DOING HERE.
The text came back: SO DO WE.
“Ugh!” Louise said. “What the heck ARE we doing here? This certainly isn’t Washington, D.C.”
After getting off the plane, they went to baggage claim and checked about retrieving their luggage, delayed by fog but way too heavy for Abbi and Louise to handle through the airport because of Abbi’s rappelling gear anyway. Luckily it had been sent on this flight, but now Abbi had to figure out a way to handle it.
Abbi swung around to look for a baggage cart. Right behind her—she almost ran into him—was one of the biggest black men she had ever seen.
He lowered the sign he was holding, laughed, and said, “Allow me, Miss Kowalski”. He handed Abbi his sign and then picked the luggage up, every piece, in his two large hands and said, “Walk this way, please.”
“That’s the man with red shoe laces!” Louise whispered.
Abbi nodded. “Obviously!”
Her phone beeped again.
THIS JUST IN. UR GOING TO A BRIEFING AT THE ROANOKE POLICE DEPT. THEN UR GOING TO CHANGE CLOTHES AND GO TO WHAT’S CALLED THE KILLING FOREST.
Abbi swallowed hard. She didn’t know this man with the red shoelaces. He didn’t show them any identity. He didn’t ask for their real names.
Louise voiced what the intellectual side of Abbi’s brain reasoned—that this might not be safe.
“This isn’t smart,” Louise said in a low whisper. “We don’t know him.”
Abbi, happy to be wearing running shoes, grabbed Louise by the sleeve and took off running in the opposite direction from Red Shoelaces. They ducked into the ladies’ lounge. Louise slid on the slick floor of the restroom with a dramatic flair as if warming up for an Olympic ice skating event.
“Nice moves, Louise! Wait! Of course we need to go with him. Gate Keeper said. Well, Miss Soufflé, would you care to powder your nose very quickly?” Abbi asked. She glanced out to see if the man knew they were gone. He was still walking, talking to them, not looking back.
“Why do I have to be Miss Soufflé?” Louise asked in a whisper. “I sound like food.”
“It’s French. Get over it,” Abbi whispered back. Then she abruptly looked in a mirror to straighten her wig. “Besides, you look good enough to eat. I, on the otherhand, look a little haphazard, like a Sunday School teacher who overslept.”
Abbi texted the unknown texter.
WHO ARE YOU AND WHO IS RED SHOELACES?
The text came back: I’M GATE KEEPER. RED SHOELACES IS BIG SAM. HT SENT HIM. IF U RAN AWAY FROM HIM, BETTER GO FIND HIM B4 SOME1 ELSE FINDS U!
How would he know that? They left the restroom to find Red Shoelaces, who looked large and in-charge. He stood with his arms crossed. His eyebrows were raised but he said nothing.
“We had to make a little stop,” Abbi said.
“Yeah, it’s like that with girls sometimes. Very awkward,” Louise said.
“Uh, sir, what is your name, please?” Abbi asked.
“Just call me Big Sam,” he said. He gathered the luggage up again and nodded toward the door. “Our car is waiting.”
“I’m not going anywhere yet. You know HT? She has a name for me. What is it?”
“Queen of the Zip Line.”
“Oh, my gosh!” Abbi said. Abbi thought he’d say ‘Abeni’ but anyone might look into records and see that. She’d forgotten Nanny Fanny’s little joke, but it was true! She used to call her Queen of the Zip Line on their rappelling adventures. And Mrs. Hightower told Big Sam! Abbi looked up at Big Sam and smiled. There was an adventure in store. She could sense it.
The black SUV pulled up and Big Sam loaded their luggage while the driver held the door for them.
“Do we tip?” Abbi asked Louise.
“I shouldn’t think so,” Louise said, still whispering. “We didn’t ask for a ride. We don’t even know where we’re going.”
“To the law enforcement complex,” Abbi said.
“Then where?”
“I can’t tell you,” Abbi said.
“You know. Let me see that phone.” Then, when Abbi wouldn’t let her have it, Louise asked, “Driver, where do we go after the law enforcement complex?”
“Jefferson National Forest, ma’am,” the driver said.
“There! Was that so bad?” Louise asked, turning to Abbi.
Another text came.
PUT ON YOUR BADGES AND USE YOUR NEW IDENTITY STARTING NOW.
Abbi showed the text to Louise who quickly grabbed the phone and scrolled back through texts.
“Killing Forest?!” she asked with disbelief. “Killing Forest???”
TWENTY-SIX
Tina’s father approached the bedroom door. He knocked.
“I’m sorry, Kid. I’ve been worried sick about you. Let’s find out how to make you whole again.” He was still unable to call his daughter ‘Tina’.
“It’s not what you think, none of it!” Tina said.
“I’m sorry I said what I did. Come on out. We won’t talk again until you’re ready and I’ll do my best to withhold judgment. You’re my daughter, for God’s sake! I’ve been a mess without you! Wondering, worrying, getting only fragments of information.”
Tina sat on the bed and looked at all the things her father had gotten her. And he was taking time off to help her. She opened the door.
“OK,” she said. “Let me get a shower and change.”
Tina decided to take a bath instead. A long, luxurious bath! She had some fresh girly soap that someone sent when the furniture came and she dried off with a soft clean towel. Then she stepped out onto a clean floor. It all felt really, really good! She came out of the bathroom dressed in the only clean clothes she had, denim shorts and a t-shirt, but with a smile on her face.
“Daddy, I can’t talk about it,” she said slowly.
“Sweetie, let’s get you well,” he said and he gave her a hug.
They walked together, the two blocks to the clinic, in silence. Tina was greeted respectfully by the nurse practitioner who was expecting her.
“There’s the little lady! We’re glad you could come. We need to start by getting you entered into our system.”
The nurse practitioner showed Tina to an examination room and asked her to take a seat while she asked a few routine questions.
“When is the last time you saw your family doctor?”
“When I was twelve.” For Tina, that was two years ago but she couldn’t say that. She wondered how she was going to keep up her new persona.
“Have you had any headaches, fever, rashes, dizziness, or anything of that nature since your last visit?”
Tina didn’t know where to begin. She just sat there. In the past six weeks, she had experienced everything on that list. How much of it was due to drugs, she didn’t know, but she had refused drugs as soon as she realized what Ramon was doing to her.
“Well? Have you?”
Tina still didn’t answer.
“What medicines or drugs are you taking now?”
“You speak English, don’t you?”
This woman sounded sincere, but Tina wasn’t sure what she should say.
Tina nodded.
“And you’re how old now?”
Tina tried to think what her new birth date was.
“I think I’m 17,” she said.
The nurse practitioner excused herself and left the room.
A few minutes later someone different walked in, a man carrying a clipboard.
“Hello, Tina. I’m Dr. Feldman. I’m a board-certified OB/GYN. Feel free to tell me anything. I understand you may have had some rough experiences.”
He pulled on some latex gloves while he spoke.
Tina’s hands began to shake.
“Do you mind if I examine you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Say ‘AH’ and hold out your tongue.”
The doctor came toward her with a tongue depressor.
Tina sat on the chair and held her lips tight.
“I need to see in your mouth,” he said.
“OK, we’ll get that later. I’m not here to hurt you. I promise. I need to check the glands in your neck and see if you might have an infection.”
Tina sat still but shook her head and would not allow him to touch her. When he tried again, she yelled, “Get away from me!”
“I’m concerned because your skin tone looks a little jaundiced. Are your hepatitis vaccines up to date? Have you had any?”
Tina shook her head and coughed.
“Sorry,” she said.
The doctor stood back and looked at her.
“I’ll need for you to change into a gown, one of these paper ones.”
He moved toward her to give her the gown.
“No,” Tina said, refusing to disrobe.
Tina felt sure the doctor was staring at her neck. Her shorter hair had gotten brushed to the side revealing the tattoo. She straightened her hair. Tina could tell by the changed expression on his face that he saw the leopard, the trapped girl inside, but she was not prepared for the doctor’s next question.
“How long have you been a prostitute?”
Tina started trembling all over, not just her hands. The cough started up again, a deep productive cough that felt like the phlegm came up from the bottom of her lungs.
She would have talked to Mrs. Hightower who understood and would never use that word with her, but not this man. She brushed past him, still coughing, and quickly left the examination room. She passed her father, still sitting in the lobby, and ran outside.