by J. M. LeDuc
“Do you mind if we go with you?”
Sin turned and saw Carmelita and Maria standing behind her.
“Maria has some friends at the orphanage and I have not seen my friend Rosa in a while. I thought we could all go together,” Carmelita said.
Sin smiled at them both. “Sounds like a plan.”
They were greeted—if you can call it that—at the front door of the orphanage by a security officer. He let Carmelita and Maria pass, but stepped in front of Sin as she stepped forward.
Sin read his name tag—York.
“Do you have an appointment?”
Sin stared at him through her mirrored lenses, eyeing the guard from top to bottom, wondering if he could have been one of the ‘pros’ she saw last night. “O’Malley,” was all she said.
“ID?”
Sin pulled her military ID from her pocket.
“Pff, so you’re the war hero everyone’s been talking about,” the guard groaned. “Can’t seem to find your name on the list,” he smirked, trying to give her a hard time as he flipped pages on his manifest.
“It comes after ‘N’ and before ‘P’,” Sin said sarcastically.
The guard checked off the name and opened the door. “Bitch,” he mumbled as Sin passed by.
She slapped her hip and glared at the guard through her glasses as if to say, kiss my ass.
Carmelita introduced Sin to Rosa, who led them to the great room which overlooked the water with large plate-glass windows.
Maria released Sin’s hand and ran over to a group of girls in the far corner of the room. The jumped up and down, giggled, and hugged when they saw each other.
“Maria will be fine with her friends while we see the rest of the orphanage,” Carmelita said.
Sin nodded and followed the two older women into the back hall.
As they began the tour, everything seemed legit. Sin couldn’t find anything or anyone who appeared to be out of place, but the guard at the front door never strayed far from her mind.
“Why are there guards at the entrance?” Sin asked. “Isn’t that a bit extreme for an orphanage?”
“I can see how it would seem so,” Rosa smiled, “but many of these girls come from tragic pasts. Prophet Heap wanted to be sure not just anyone could walk in.”
Or out, Sin thought.
As the tour continued, Sin noticed that the security didn’t extend much past the entrance.
“Can we see the dormitory?”
Rosa smiled at Sin and led them up to the third floor. “The girls are responsible for making their own beds,” she said, “so I’m sorry if it’s a bit messy.”
Sin eyed the room looking for any discrepancies—anything that was incongruent to the environment. Again, she saw nothing.
“You have a wonderful facility,” Sin said to Rosa. “How many girls do you house?”
“It depends,” Rosa answered. “Right now we have twenty-eight girls, but we have had as many as thirty-five and as few as nine.”
“How do the girls get adopted out to families?”
“We are registered with all the adoption agencies and because we are on U.S. soil, the girls get placed fairly quick.”
Sin nodded and smiled. “I noticed that most of the girls looked Central American in ethnicity, how do the children come to the orphanage?”
“Come,” Rosa said, “we will have some lunch and I will answer your questions.”
They ate with the girls in the dining hall. Sin watched more than ate. When the guards walked in for lunch, the girls’ demeanor didn’t change. There was no fear in how they acted. This made her happy and angry at the same time. She could sense evil in the men, yet the girls sensed nothing.
If they had been abused by any of these men, they would shy away from them, she thought.
Rosa went on to explain how the girls came to the orphanage. Her words echoed Heap’s. The girls were either orphans in their native countries or their families could not afford to feed them. Either way, they were brought to the United States for a chance at a better life.
Sin wiped her mouth with her napkin and asked where she might find the ladies room.
“Through the door and to the left,” Rosa answered.
Sin excused herself and walked through the door. The short hallway split. On the left were bathrooms and on the right another door. Sin looked around, saw no one, and tried the doorknob.
Locked.
She slipped into the bathroom and into a stall. There, she pulled a pick kit out of her boot. Back in the hall, she had the door opened in seconds. She slowly opened the door being careful of trip wires or any signs of an alarm. On the other side of the door, she found a staircase—a steep staircase leading down. Carefully, she stepped down the wooden stairs trying not to make any sound. At the bottom, it was pitch black. She used her cell phone screen as a light. The room was musty, wet, and dank. The floor was sand. She could smell the shoreline.
She shined her light on the walls—bare cinder block. Between some of the blocks, there were slim openings. The closer to the bottom, the more frequent the openings. Sin thought for a moment. The bottom floor is enclosed just for esthetics. It’s strictly used for storm surge run-off.
She shifted the light from the walls to the hard-packed sand. If it’s not used for anything, why all the footprints and why is there a door—a steel door?
Sin knew she had already been gone too long and was about to make her way back upstairs when she heard the door at the top of the stairs open.
Sin hid in the shadow of the staircase.
“Why is this door unlocked?”
The voice was muffled but recognizable. It belonged to York—the guard from the entrance.
“I don’t know, I swear it was locked when I made my rounds,” a tentative voice answered.
“This is the third time I’ve found doors unlocked after you’ve made your rounds. If Marilyn knew about this, she’d kick both our asses. That’s the only reason I don’t report you.”
“York, man, I’m sorry. I swear I checked that door, but I promise it won’t happen again.”
“You’re lucky I needed to use the bathroom,” York said. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
Sin heard the door close and lock.
The big boys are pretty scared of this Marilyn? Sin thought. Who the hell is Marilyn?
She waited a few minutes and made her way back up the stairs. She peered under the door and checked for shadows. The coast seemed clear. She made her way back into the hall, relocked the door and made her way into the ladies room.
A few minutes later, she reappeared in the hall to find York waiting for her.
“Rosa was worried about you.” He closed in on her personal space. “Where’ve you been?”
Sin looked back at the door she just walked out of and traced the engraved sign with her finger. “Laadies Rooom,” she elongated each word she spoke.
With her back to him, she heard what sounded like a Billy Club slide from his belt. The guard pushed her into the door and growled in her ear. “You think you’re so tough. You ain’t nothing. I could have been Special Forces, but I didn’t like the pay.”
So this is what this is all about, Sin thought. The fucker has penis envy. Damn.
He hit her lightly in the ribs with the club.
Sin, her face mashed against the door, mumbled, “You don’t have the balls.”
York shoved her into the door harder.
She used the distraction to slide her hand down the door and reach behind her. She grabbed his crotch with all her grip and twisted. She felt York’s air leave his body as he exhaled, groaning in pain.
She heard the club hit the hardwood floor.
Sin turned to face him, twisting harder.
York’s face was purple, and his arms were flailing
at her.
“Put your arms down if you want your balls back,” Sin growled through gritted teeth.
His arms dropped immediately.
“Tell me you’re sorry.”
York looked at Sin, and with a final burst of determination, he tried to break loose. All he accomplished was having her grip tighten even more.
His knees wobbled and he fell to the ground. Sin dropped with him and kept hold of his sack like a bull rider gripping his rope, trying for an eight second ride.
At that moment, the door to the dining hall opened and Rosa, Carmelita, and the other guard were stunned to see the two of them on the floor.
“What the hell is going on here?” the guard said.
“Call 911,” Sin said.
“What the hell for?” the guard said.
Sin, her hand hidden from view, squeezed and twisted again. York gurgled incoherently, his face turning purple again. “I think he’s having a seizure,” Sin said emphatically.
The other guard quickly pulled his phone from his belt and dialed emergency services.
Sin released her hand and York’s facial hue began to lighten.
“He seems to be coming out of it,” Sin said, “but make sure the medics take him to the hospital.”
She stood and watched York roll into the fetal position with both hands cradling his crotch.
Sin straightened her shirt and said, “If you have everything under control, I have an appointment on the Navy base.” She eyed York. “He’s safe, just watch him until help arrives.”
“No puedo llevarte a ninguna parte,” Carmelita mumbled as they went to get Maria.
Sin rolled her eyes and then thought, She’s right, she can’t take me anywhere.
A few minutes later, the ladies were saying goodbye to Rosa as the ambulance was pulling onto the property.
On the drive home, Carmelita asked Sin what happened.
Sin eyed the older woman and said, “He just seemed like he could use a hand, so I gave him one.”
Carmelita flushed red and burst out in laughter.
CHAPTER 20
At four p.m., Sin rumbled her bike up to Charlie’s hangar.
Charlie was bent over a Cessna aircraft engine compartment giving Sin the ‘plumber’s view.’
She patted him on the butt. “Is that a coin slot?”
“Screw you,” Charlie grunted, “and hand me a seven-sixteenths wrench.”
Sin placed the long-handled wrench in his open palm and watched in amazement as Charlie did his magic. She had learned a lot from watching him when she was younger, information she had used to get out of all types of scrapes since leaving Tumbleboat.
Finished, Charlie straightened up, put his hands on his lower back and leaned into them, stretching his spine. “Damn, I’m not as limber as I used to be.”
“I’ll bet on you any time,” Sin said as she looked closer at the plane. “Is this a 1957 Cessna 172?”
“1956,” Charlie beamed. “First generation of the most popular aircraft ever made.”
Sin slid her open palm over the smooth paint of the fuselage. “This must have cost the owner a pretty penny.”
“It was a present from an old friend,” Charlie said wiping the grease off his hands with an old rag. “I’ve had her since 1973.”
Sin’s eyes opened wide. “How come this is the first I’ve seen her?”
“She’s been kept in the old hangar out by runway two. I haven’t flown her since the seventies.”
“Why are you working on her?”
Charlie poured them both a cup of coffee. “Seeing old friends made me sentimental. Hearing about even older friends dying made me realize that what we don’t cherish, we lose.” He handed Sin a cup. “She belongs in the air, not holed up in some musty old hangar. I plan on tuning her up and taking her out next week. Care to join me?”
Sin blew on the hot coffee and took a sip. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she smiled.
Charlie nodded. “Enough of that for now. Let’s talk about what’s been happening since last night.”
Sin sat down and waited for Charlie to boot up his ‘old’ Mac.
“I need you to check on a name,” she said.
Charlie glanced her way, fingers on the keyboard.
“Marilyn.”
Charlie typed. “Marilyn who?”
Sin wiped her hair from her face. “That’s all I know.”
Charlie sat back and picked up his cup. “Where did you get the name from?”
Sin reiterated her time at the orphanage. She told Charlie about York and the basement.
“I took pictures of footprints,” Sin said. “They were raked over, but they can still be seen. You’ll find them interesting.”
Charlie took her phone and plugged it into his computer with a USB cable.
“They’re dark,” Charlie said, “but I can fix that.”
A few taps on the keyboard and the pictures looked clear as day.
Sin stared at the screen. “They still don’t look right.”
Charlie opened another program, highlighted the photos and began pecking away at the keyboard. “You got to check out the bureau’s photo enhancing software,” he mumbled. “This shit’s amazing.” With one final tap, he sat back and waited for the pictures to finish their enhancement.
Sin and Charlie sat speechless and stared at four different sets of prints.
“I’ll be damned,” Charlie mumbled.
Sin turned her attention from the screen to Charlie as he fiddled with the mouse and keyboard.
Charlie sat back and clicked the enter key with the tip of his index finger. “I love playing with Uncle Sam’s toys,” he said as he pointed at the screen. “Tell me what you see, agent?”
Sin leaned forward to get a better view. “Fuck.” She pointed at the prints. “There aren’t four sets of prints, there are eight! The others were so much smaller and left such a light impression, I didn’t see them.”
“Kids prints,” Charlie added. “Not only that, but look here.” He pointed at one set of adult prints. “This set is smaller than the rest and the prints aren’t as deep as the others.”
Sin sat back and exhaled. “Female?”
Charlie mirrored Sin’s movements. “A definite possibility.”
“You think there is a correlation with this Marilyn person?”
Charlie shrugged. “Why are you so interested in this ‘Marilyn’ person?”
Sin stayed silent for a long time, choosing her words carefully. “What the guys”—she made air quotes around the word—“in the bureau and on the fringe call the skin game: prostitution, rape, and even human trafficking; it’s normally a male dominated arena. The idea that a woman might be involved in it makes my skin crawl.
“I have nothing concrete,” she continued, “just a feeling.”
Charlie’s eyes squinted in a quizzical fashion.
“You know that feeling you had back on the beach when you knew we were about to get company—you know—a hunch?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s the feeling I get when I think of Marilyn.”
Charlie stroked his beard and nodded. “I’ll work on it. A first name isn’t much to go on, but I’ll run the name through my software and see if I get any hits. If I get any, I can compare the pictures to the one’s the FBI has on file.”
Sin just stared at Charlie. “You can do that?”
Charlie nodded. “Back at the house I can. It might take a couple of days for the software to run through all possibilities, but I’ll see what I can do. It’s a long shot.”
“But it’s a shot,” Sin said.
“Yep, it’s a shot,” Charlie said as he focused on his keyboard and began to type in all the information needed to try and track Marilyn.
In Sin�
�s mind, it just looked like a bunch of numbers and symbols.
She squeezed his shoulders lovingly. “You need to teach me all about your setup.”
Charlie finished his command, tapped the ‘enter’ key, and stood up to freshen their coffee. “Why? You plan on staying in Tumbleboat when this is all over?”
Sin shrugged. “I’m not sure, but either way, I want to know how you do what you do.”
Charlie chuckled. “It would be my pleasure, but right now, I have something else to show you.” He reached to the left of his desk and grabbed a set of plans for the Cessna. Sin was about to say something smart when he turned them over. On the back was a blueprint of the slab and framework of the Church of the New Son.
It was now Sin’s turn to laugh.
The two of them spent the next two hours going over every square inch of the plans. She pointed out the rooms she had been in and described what each was used for.
Charlie put a red X through each room Sin spoke of. When they were finished, there were two rooms unaccounted for. One was located on the opposite side of Heap’s office from the waiting room, Sin and Troy sat in, and the other was located behind the fellowship hall of the church. It was on the south side of the building, facing the cemetery where Sin’s mother was buried.
Charlie swung his chair back toward his keyboard and pulled up a list of all the architectural plans. He scrolled down the list and clicked on the electrical schematic. “The wiring and materials used in the first room,” Charlie said, “are standard building code. It’s probably just another office, but it needs to be checked. This one,” Charlie tapped the plans with a callused index finger, “is much more interesting.”
“How so?” Sin asked.
“I did some further checking after finding the building plans and discovered that Heap bought a lot of audio and visual materials about a year ago. That in and of itself is no big deal,” Charlie said. “Heap broadcasts his sermons throughout the southern U.S. and Central America. What made me suspicious was that all the new materials are state of the art—HDTV, but . . .” Charlie’s left eyebrow rose in a knowing expression, “he doesn’t broadcast in high definition.”