Cold Betrayal

by J. A. Jance

  Somewhere along the way, both women had visited a salon, coming away with short bobs to replace the long cumbersome braids. The thing David hadn’t been able to fix were the neglected and missing teeth, which were still front and center.

  “I’ve never worn pants before or boots, either,” Patricia said, looking down at her legs a little self-consciously. “Women in The Family aren’t allowed.”

  Wearing pants and boots aren’t the only things you weren’t allowed to do, Ali thought. She said, “Are you ready to do this?”

  Patricia nodded. “Do you think people will even recognize us?”

  “They will,” Ali assured her. “They may also be more than a little envious. Come on.”

  Patricia and Agnes donned a pair of down-filled ski jackets and followed Ali out to the car, where they had to be reminded and helped to put on their seat belts. When Ali pulled into the parking lot at the DPS headquarters on the dot of six, the place was full to the brim with unmarked patrol cars from any number of jurisdictions. That made sense. The thinking was that having an army of readily recognizable marked cars heading north would be far too noticeable. Parked on the street were two immense chartered tour buses along with the converted school bus, complete with barred windows and a Department of Corrections logo, that would be used to transport prisoners.

  What Ali found most surprising was the total lack of any media presence. She wondered how an operation of this size and complexity had been organized and thus far operated completely under the media’s radar. She guessed that Governor Dunham had held more than a few feet to the fire to make that happen.

  Inside, the spacious lobby was packed. Cops in and out of uniform chatted amiably, making the room look like the site of a mini-law-enforcement convention. No doubt the officers’ emergency response team gear was stowed in the vehicles parked outside. Faced with the crowd, Agnes and Patricia hesitated in the doorway. Ali scanned the room, recognizing a few familiar faces before finally spotting B. He stood head and shoulders above most everyone else, talking with her friend Dave Holman, a homicide detective from Yavapai County.

  “This way,” Ali said, urging the Brought Back girls forward and into the crowd. “I want to introduce you to my husband.”

  Before she had a chance, however, Virginia Dunham’s voice came over a loudspeaker. “May I have your attention, please.”

  Looking up, Ali saw that a lectern had been set up on the landing of the marble stairway that led to the building’s second story. Virginia Dunham, clad in boots, jeans, and a fringed leather jacket, took her place behind the microphone.

  “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Governor Dunham,” she continued, donning glasses and reading from a prepared text. “Thank you all for being here on such short notice. You’re about to participate in an important operation that will take most of the night and maybe part of the morning as well. That means it’ll be a long haul. As you leave here, you’ll find a supply of boxed lunches next to the door. We’re going to Colorado City, where I’m not expecting a welcome mat or any open restaurants. Feel free to take two boxes with you, one for now and one for breakfast. I’ve got a taco truck that will be on-site later, but it isn’t scheduled to arrive until after the main event, which is planned for midnight.

  “We have credible evidence that offenders from a group called The Family have been running a human trafficking organization. Earlier today, there were some doubters and naysayers when I began putting this operation together and telling people that we needed to act quickly to prevent another group of girls from being shipped off into the sex trade. I want you to know that we now have intel that corroborates my concern. The FAA has informed my office that a charter company has filed a flight plan for a Citation X that’s due to land on The Family’s private airstrip at one A.M. for a scheduled two A.M. departure.

  “By the way, the final destination on the flight plan is listed as Caracas, Venezuela. Venezuela happens to be a country with which the United States has no extradition treaty. If either the victims or perpetrators make it that far, they’ll be completely beyond our reach. That’s why I’ve put this together in such a hurry—to make sure that doesn’t happen. An FBI team is being assembled to handle the airstrip aspect of the operation. The suspect aircraft will be allowed to land, but it won’t be taking off again.

  “Throwing the plane’s scheduled arrival and departure times into the mix means that we must hold to our midnight timetable. No delays. It’s a four-hour drive from here to there. The FBI is overseeing the entire operation. Their command and control vehicle is on the way already and should be in position well before the rest of you arrive. Teams one, two, and three will depart ten minutes after the conclusion of this briefing. Other higher-numbered teams will launch off in groups of three at ten-minute intervals. We can’t afford to have a northbound traffic jam. Stick to the speed limits. Don’t attract undue attention. Maintain radio silence in case someone is monitoring police channels. The tour buses and my Sprinter will be the last ones to depart and head north.”

  Ali was struck by the new information that a plane was scheduled to arrive at The Family’s landing strip—a charter capable of long-distance flying. Her gut told her that was more than a coincidence. If The Family had scheduled a flight out for sometime tonight, wasn’t it likely that they knew something was up and suspected that a raid was coming?

  While Governor Dunham continued to lay out team assignments, Ali broke away from B. and Dave and wandered through the crush of cops, searching in vain for Sheriff Alvarado.

  “The FBI has called down satellite surveillance of the area,” Governor Dunham continued. “So far it appears that no one is behaving as though they’ve had any advance notice of our intended arrival. Each three-man team has been assigned a number that corresponds with the operations number assigned to each of the targeted residences. At the back of the room, just before the box-lunch table, you’ll find an additional table where team captains will collect their assignments, complete with addresses, GPS coordinates, and communications routings to the C and C vehicle. Most of you will be parking outside The Family’s property and hiking in to your target, so plan on using GPS technology. Teams with the greatest distances to cover on foot have been scheduled to depart first. Fortunately, preliminary surveys of the area show no sign of anti-intrusion devices. Is everyone clear on that?”

  There were nods all around. When no one raised a hand to ask a question, she went on.

  “As I said, every team should be in position and prepared to take action at the stroke of midnight. Launching all the raids simultaneously allows our targets the least opportunity for organized resistance, and that is something we want to avoid if at all possible. Authorization for carrying out this operation has been more flexible than it would have been otherwise due to the fact that we strongly suspect that another group of girls is in immediate danger of being transported out of the country.

  “The search warrants you’ll be carrying specify two things—the first authorizes the collection of family Bibles from each of the residences. The Bibles are thought to contain the names and birth dates of suspected trafficking victims. The second specifies that the men named on the warrants are required to undergo cheek swabbing for DNA testing. If they refuse or put up any resistance, they’re to be taken into custody and individually transported to this location for questioning. By the time they arrive back here, we should have people from the FBI on hand to conduct the interrogations.

  “You’ll find that the adult women in the community aren’t named on the warrants primarily because we don’t have legal names on the vast majority of them. The women are welcome to provide DNA samples but cannot be compelled to do so. However, any who interfere with the execution of the warrants are to be taken into custody.

  “Each family unit may have its own collection of what are commonly referred to as Brought Back girls. These are women who have attempted to run aw
ay and who have been returned to their families. These girls—women really—are kept as virtual prisoners. If any of them or any of the other women express a desire to leave the community, let them know that they will be allowed and helped to do so. We’ll have transportation available to bring them back here to Flagstaff, where we’re making arrangements with a local shelter to locate temporary housing.

  “I’m not sure how many of you are aware of the incident at Short Creek in the early fifties. There, in an early-morning raid on a polygamous community very similar to this one, every person involved was arrested, minor children included. Many of those children were put into foster care and never reunited with their families. We’re attempting to avoid that outcome here. That’s why Irene’s Place, a local domestic violence shelter, is assisting us in this operation. Where possible, please treat the affected women and children with kindness and consideration, although again, interference on their part in execution of the warrants will not be tolerated.

  “You may have noticed that there’s a notable lack of media presence here. That’s a deliberate call on my part. I’ve asked all affected agencies and personnel to maintain strict secrecy in advance of this operation. That includes maintaining radio silence and limiting the use of cell phones. I have it on good authority that there are people out in the world who make it their business to track and listen in on cell-phone signals. Your continued cooperation in keeping this operation under wraps is essential. Now, be safe out there. Go with God.”

  By the time the governor removed her reading glasses and stepped away from the lectern, Ali was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairway.

  “Where’s Alvarado?” Ali asked without greeting. “Other department heads are here. He’s not.”

  “You must be Ali,” Governor Dunham said. “I understand there was some kind of delay in his being able to leave town—a family emergency, I believe. Sheriff Alvarado has his own Cessna. He’ll be flying over to Colorado City and meeting up with us and his officers there. Since the Mohave County teams are part of the last group to leave here, he most likely won’t depart Kingman for a while yet. I offered to pick him up in the Sprinter at the airport, but he told me he keeps a vehicle there that he can use as needed.”

  Ali shook her head. “This is a major operation due to occur in his jurisdiction. Aren’t you the least bit worried about his not being here for the briefing?”

  “He may have missed the briefing,” Governor Dunham said, “but he’ll still be there for the operation. What’s your problem with all this?”

  “What if he’s involved?” Ali replied. “If he let Amos Sellers in on the operation, then it’s a good bet The Family is in on it, too.”

  “Do not worry about Deputy Sellers,” Governor Dunham assured her. “That situation is being handled, even as we speak. As for The Family’s having been alerted? Our satellite recon shows no unusual activity anywhere inside the compound. As far as we can see, they’re still entirely unaware of our intentions. Now, where are Patricia and Agnes? They’ll be riding along with me in the Sprinter so they’ll be on hand to intercede with other residents, but I’d like to at least meet them before then. You’ll be riding with us, too?”

  “I expect so,” Ali said. “Agnes and Patricia are over there with my husband.” As she turned in that direction, a cell phone rang behind her. She looked back at Governor Dunham, who had stopped long enough to answer.

  She listened for a moment and then nodded. “Excellent. Deputy Sellers is already here in town? Great. Yes, have him wait there. Put him in an interview room and tell him you’ll bring Patricia and Agnes up from the jail shortly. Once the first of the FBI interview teams arrives, we’ll send one of them right over with the Amos Sellers warrants in hand.”

  Ali was astonished. “Deputy Sellers is here in Flagstaff? And what’s this about Patricia and Agnes being in jail? I already told you. They’re right over there.”

  “I heeded your earlier warning about Deputy Sellers possibly compromising the operation,” Governor Dunham said, “so I took steps to remove him from the board by simply appealing to his greed. Knowing his bounty-hunter function, I took the liberty of having my chief of staff, Bill Witherspoon, pass along a phony tip about Agnes and Patricia’s supposed whereabouts. Bill told Deputy Sellers that the two runaways had been arrested here in town and charged with shoplifting. He was led to believe that they were being held by the Flagstaff PD and needed someone to post their bail.

  “That call didn’t exactly rise to the level of filing a false police report, but it was close, uncomfortably close. Bill was still worried about it, right up until Sellers took the bait. He was on his way here in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, hotfooting it out of Colorado City in his personal vehicle rather than in a patrol car. That’s a pretty good indicator that he wasn’t traveling in any official capacity. As of right now he’s cooling his heels in an interview room at the Flagstaff PD. I trust that puts at least some of your concerns about him to rest. Now, if there’s nothing else . . .”

  “There is,” Ali said. “I’d like to talk to him.”

  “To Deputy Sellers? Why?”

  “Kingman Jane Doe,” Ali answered. “Amos Sellers was already The Family’s enforcer back when Anne Lowell ran away. At the time there were rumors that the baby Anne was carrying didn’t belong to her husband. Supposedly she had a boyfriend on the Outside who was going to help her. Instead, we believe both she and her baby ended up dead. Of all the people in The Family, Amos was more Outside than in. What if he did both—fathered the baby and then killed Anne to cover it up?”

  The governor thought about it. “Anything he tells you won’t be admissible in a court of law, you know,” Governor Dunham warned, “but it might answer a lot of questions. You’re saying what you’re interested in has nothing to do with tonight’s operation?”

  “Nothing.”

  Governor Dunham shrugged. “Go ahead, then. Since you’re not a cop, I don’t see any harm in asking. Just be back here in plenty of time for us to head north.”

  Ali hurried back to where Patricia, Agnes, and B. had been joined by Andrea Rogers. “The governor says we’ll be departing in a little over an hour. If you don’t mind, Patricia and Agnes, B. and I will leave you here with Andrea long enough for us to run an errand.”

  “What kind of errand?” B. asked, dutifully following behind as Ali threaded her way through the still packed room.

  “We’re going to go talk to Amos Sellers. He’s currently in an interview room at the local cop shop.”

  “He’s one of the bad guys, isn’t he? Won’t talking to him be dangerous?”

  “No,” Ali assured him. “His weapons will be locked away in a gun locker, and so will mine.”

  “All right, then,” B. said. “Let’s do it.”

  The trip from the DPS headquarters to the Flagstaff PD took seven of the sixty minutes Ali had allowed herself. Once inside the building, she was surprised to learn she and B. were both expected. Governor Dunham had called ahead and cleared the way. Leaving B. and a uniformed officer to watch through the two-way mirror, Ali entered the interview room alone.

  Amos Sellers rose to his feet. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “I was expecting a cop. He’s supposed to be bringing two prisoners over from the jail so I can post their bail and take them back home.”

  “They’re not coming,” Ali said. “They’ve already been released.”

  “Then I’m leaving, too.” He started for the door.

  “No, you’re not,” Ali said. “That door is locked. Sit down.”

  “Wait a minute,” Sellers said. “You’re not a cop. You can’t order me around.”

  “Sit,” she said. “An FBI team is on its way to interview you.”

  “Interview me?” Sellers asked, sinking back down on his chair. “About what?”

  “Human trafficking. About how The Family’s Not
Chosens are routinely shipped out of the country and end up being sold as sex slaves all over the world.”

  “That’s not possible,” Amos insisted. “The Not Chosens go to other families, other homes.”

  “Who says?”

  “Bishop Lowell.”

  “And you believe him?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Then you’re a lot dumber than I thought,” Ali said. She glanced at her watch. The minutes were ticking by.

  “A team from the FBI is due here any minute to discuss that with you. Right now, though, I’d like you to tell me about Anne Lowell.”

  Hearing the name caused a subtle change in Amos Sellers’s features. His jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed. “What about her?”

  “You tell me.”

  He shrugged. “She was married to Bishop Lowell at one time, but she ran off. It happened a long time ago. Nobody ever heard from her again.”

  “That long time happens to be twelve years,” Ali corrected. “My understanding is that you were sent out to get her. That’s your job, isn’t it—to bring The Family’s runaways back home?”

  “I never found Anne Lowell,” he answered. “Like I said, she ran off and never came back.”

  “She never came back because she’s dead.”

  Amos reacted to that bit of news with a visible tremor, as though a jolt of electricity had passed through his body.

  “How? When?”

  “About the time she left home presumably,” Ali said. “She was found badly beaten but still alive in the desert outside of Kingman. She was hospitalized but didn’t survive. Neither did her baby. They were buried together in a common, unmarked grave and have only just now been identified.”

  “I never knew she was dead,” Amos said, shaking his head.

  “Didn’t you?” Ali countered. “I’m wondering if it’s possible that you were the father of that baby. Anne ran away. You went after her, found her, and decided to kill her rather than bring her back home.”