Enticed:A Dangerous Connection (Secrets)

by Carlson, Melody

  “No, please, don’t call 911. They’ll send out the police and I’ve heard you can’t trust them — some of the police are involved in human trafficking and they’ll just send me — ”

  “Human trafficking?” Her eyes grow wide.

  “Yes. And one of your neighbors is involved.” I point down the street. “I don’t know his name. He goes by Mr. T and he’s connected to the traffickers. They take girls to him. I just escaped his house. Please, please, just let me call my mom. Please!”

  “What’s her number?”

  I tell her Mom’s cell number. And just like that this woman is dialing and then talking to my mom. “Hello, I’m Mrs. Moller,” she begins calmly. I listen with pounding heart and disbelief as she explains what I just told her. “Really?” She looks genuinely surprised. “So it’s true that she was abducted?” She listens with a horrified look, then hands the phone to me. “Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry.”

  “Mom!” I sob into the phone.

  “Simi! Is it really you?”

  “Yes. I’m in Oregon. Somewhere near Portland, I think.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. But I’m still in danger. And you need to get help for me.”

  “Did you call 911? Do you want me to — ?”

  “No. That will get the police — and some of them are crooked. It’s a human-trafficking group that kidnapped me. They’re a huge organization, Mom. You need the FBI or — ”

  “Yes. We’ve been speaking to some FBI agents.”

  “We?”

  “Michelle and Trista and I have all been working together. Everyone in the church has been praying. Now tell me where you are, Simi. What’s the address?”

  I look at Mrs. Moller, who has flopped down into a chair. She’s fanning her face with a magazine as if she’s in shock. “Can you tell my mom where I’m at?” I hold the phone to her.

  She takes the phone and gives Mom the information. Then she hands it back to me.

  “Are you okay?” I ask Mrs. Moller.

  She waves her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I say to Mom. “I’m so afraid. What if they come down here and find me?”

  “Just stay on the phone,” she says. “Trista is here with me. Right now she’s calling the FBI on her cell phone. Agent Barclay’s been helping us.” I can hear Mom talking to Trista, and within seconds we are having a three-way conversation with my mom talking to both me and the FBI agent at the same time. He asks questions and we’re all exchanging information back and forth.

  “And I want to give you the address of the house where I was held captive,” I say urgently. “I told them I’d send help.”

  “Yes,” Barclay says eagerly. “We can really use that.”

  I tell him the name of the town and address as well as some description of the house and the locks and the girls who are kept there. “But they’ll be out tonight. I don’t know what time they’ll get back.”

  He assures me they’ll do surveillance.

  “And some of the girls want help. But they feel trapped and scared.” I tell him their real names — the ones I know — and where they came from.

  “This is excellent,” he tells me. “Very useful.”

  “I have more names too. And. Oh yeah, I nearly forgot — there are twenty-three women and children being held captive in the basement. And they looked half starved. I gave them what food I could find, but they must be very hungry.”

  He assures me they will be rescued, and Mrs. Moller puts a hand to her forehead and gasps.

  “Where are you now?” the agent asks. “I mean, inside the house?”

  I look around. “I guess it’s the living room.”

  “Can you get into a safer room? A room with a lock where you can wait until our agents get there?”

  I quickly relay this to Mrs. Moller, and she leads me up to a master bedroom where she locks the door. Then to be even safer, we go into the bathroom and she locks that door as well. For the first time in days, I’m thankful for locks. I explain to the agent where we’re hiding and he continues to ask questions about the location of Mr. T’s house. I describe it to him, saying it’s about four houses down from Mrs. Moller’s.

  “Is it on the same side of the street?”

  “Yes.” But when he asks north or south, I don’t know.

  “Let me speak to him,” Mrs. Moller says suddenly. “I know the house Simi just described. It’s north of my house — five houses down. I don’t know the couple personally, but their name is Thompkins. Also you should know that this is a gated neighborhood. You need the pass numbers to get in.” Then she gives him the code as well as more specific directions to her street. “Yes, I’ll put Simi back on.” She hands the phone back to me.

  “When will help get here?” I ask anxiously.

  “The team’s been dispatched, Simi. But it’s going to take about ten minutes. We want them to be very discreet. Agent Anderson will come to the door. She’s a tall blonde woman in her thirties. We want to get you and Mrs. Moller out first — before we deal with Mr. Thompkins.”

  “Oh, yeah …” I say slowly. “That reminds me.”

  “What?”

  “I — uh — well … to escape I kind of drugged him.”

  “Drugged him?”

  “One of the girls at the house gave me sleeping pills to put in his drink. I crushed them and put them in his gin and tonic. And he fell asleep.”

  “What kind of pills? Over the counter? Prescription? Barbiturates?”

  “I don’t know. Ruby called them sleeping pills, but the girl she stole them from is a serious drug user.”

  “Which girl?”

  “Kandy Kane. I don’t know her real name.” I describe her as well as the pills. “And there were about twenty I think.” Now I’m worried. “What if I killed him?”

  “We’ll dispatch an ambulance for Mr. Thompkins.”

  “Oh … okay.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Simi,” Mom jumps in now. “You were just doing what you needed to do to get away from them. Even if he dies, it’s not your fault. Do not blame yourself.”

  We talk awhile longer, I answer more of the agent’s questions, and Mom occasionally says something, and finally after what seems like hours, he tells me that the FBI car is pulling up to the house. “It’s a gray SUV,” he says, and I relay this to Mrs. Moller and we go out into the bedroom and look out a window that overlooks the street. “I see it. It’s pulling up in front.” I watch eagerly. “A blonde woman is getting out.”

  There’s a long pause and Agent Barclay tells me that Agent Anderson has given the all clear. “Go with her,” he tells me. “You and Mrs. Moller act as if you’re simply going out with a friend.”

  We do as we’re told, and within minutes we’re being whisked away. Tears of relief are pouring down my face and Mrs. Moller hugs me tightly. “You were so brave, dear. I’m very proud of you.”

  “Thank you for letting me into your home. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” Now I explain how I was praying for the right house.

  She squeezes my hand. “I’m glad God led you to me.”

  “It was the pink flamingos that made me knock on your door.”

  She laughs. “My sister put those there for my sixty-fifth birthday last week. It was a joke, but I decided to leave them there a bit. Just to aggravate the neighbors.”

  I call my mom, reassuring her that I’m okay. And Mrs. Moller calls her sister and before long they are dropping her off at her sister’s house, where she will spend the night. Agent Anderson promises to keep her informed about when it’s safe to return to her home. We hug and I thank her again.

  “I can’t wait to tell Dorothy about my exciting adventure,” Mrs. Moller says as she gets out, hurrying to meet the gray-haired woman coming out to the car.

  As the car continues, I lean back and sigh. “God answered my prayers,” I say quietly. “I knew he would.”

  Agen
t Anderson nods. “You’re a very lucky girl, Simi.” Then as we drive into the city, where she insists I must be examined at the hospital, she continues to ask me questions. I tell her about Marcia and Bryce and Rod, and it sounds like the FBI is already looking for them. I tell her about everyone and everything I can remember, almost like I’m emptying my brain. But she is grateful and appears to be getting it all down.

  “I’m worried about Mom and Trista and Michelle.” I explain the threats that Marcia and Bryce made, how they would go after my family and friends if I messed up. “How soon will it be until they know what I did?”

  “Hard to say. But I’ll let Agent Barclay know that we might need a relocation plan. Do you think you’ll want to testify in court against these people?” She studies me carefully.

  “Absolutely. I’ll do everything possible to get them all behind bars.”

  “Good girl.” She pats my shoulder. “So many times the girls are so intimidated and scared — they refuse to help.”

  “Should I be scared?”

  “We’ll do everything we can to protect you. Most of all, we’ll try to get these creeps off the streets. That’s the best way to protect you.”

  It’s after nine by the time we get to the hospital, where to my relief, I’m given a meal — and I’ve never been so thankful to see fresh vegetables before. I also get a thorough exam and I’m not surprised to see that I’ve lost twelve pounds. Photos are taken and I assure the doctor and Agent Anderson that despite being deprived of food and water at times, as well as the general nasty conditions of the place, I feel perfectly fine. Even so, Agent Anderson insists that I need to remain in the hospital overnight.

  “Both for your safety and for our convenience since it’s late. But don’t worry, there’ll be a guard by your door.”

  “Is that really necessary?”

  “Hopefully not. But you’re a valuable witness for us.”

  Now I remember Mr. T (aka Mr. Thompkins) and I ask her if there’s any chance he could wind up in this same hospital as me.

  “No chance whatsoever,” she assures me. “He’s at St. Vincent’s.”

  “Oh … is he okay?”

  “It sounds like he’s going to make it.”

  It’s strange to feel relieved that such an evil man isn’t dead, but I do. I’d rather he went to prison than the cemetery. “When can I go home?”

  “Maybe tomorrow or the next day. And we’ll probably have to go by car. It’s possible that they’ll be watching for you at PDX by the time we could get a flight.” Then she offers to spend the night at the hospital with me. But the nurses have been so nice and friendly and the guard by the door looks dependable, so I assure her that I’ll be all right.

  “God is taking care of me,” I tell her as I finish off a chocolate sundae the nurse just brought me for dessert.

  Agent Anderson just smiles and nods. “I believe he is.”

  After she leaves, I use the cell phone she left with me to call Mom and then Michelle. It feels so good to talk to both of them, and I can’t wait to go home. But at the same time, I am so sleepy and I know tomorrow will be busy. It feels amazing to be clean and wearing a clean gown — and even more amazing to be in a real bed with clean, fresh-smelling bedding. I don’t think I’ll ever take such ordinary things for granted again.

  But before I go to sleep, I thank God for delivering me and I pray for everyone back at the house. I can’t even begin to imagine what will transpire tonight, but I beg God to watch out for Tatiana and Ruby and Desiree, as well as the twenty-three captives in the basement. I even pray for Jimmy and Kandy, because I know they’re in danger too.

  … [CHAPTER 21]………………

  The next day, Agent Anderson brings me fresh clothes, and before long we’re being transported via car to California. As the car moves down I-5, she continues to question me, trying to fill in as many gaps as possible. And now she has photos on her laptop, mug shots for me to peruse in the hopes we’ll get a firm identity on some of the low-life traffickers. As we travel, she gets reports on how things are progressing in Portland.

  “We had to move fast last night,” she tells me as she sets her phone down. “But it’s paid off.”

  “Are the girls okay? And the people in the basement?”

  “The house was surrounded at around five this morning. It took a few hours, since they weren’t sure how many firearms were involved, but everyone in the house was eventually taken into custody without incident.”

  I am so thankful that tears fill my eyes. “And what will happen to them?”

  “After they’re questioned and examined, they’ll be placed in a safe house. If they’re underage, their parents or guardians will be contacted.”

  “Can I have contact with any of them?”

  “Do you want to?” She frowns like this might not be a good idea.

  “Yes. I know some of the girls have rough situations at home. I don’t want them to end up in the same situation again. And I think our church might be willing to help out. If they need it.”

  “Okay. I’ll make sure that they know this. But for your protection they will have to contact you through us.” She lets me send them messages through the agent who’s helping them up in Portland.

  It’s after dark by the time we make it into the LA area, but to my surprise, the car sails right past the exit to my town and a familiar chill runs through me as I remember how Rod took a different route on the way to my “interview” with Marcia and Bryce. I look questionably at Agent Anderson now. Surely she’s not a human trafficker. “Uh … where are we going?”

  She looks up from her laptop. “Oh, didn’t I tell you that you and your mom are being relocated?”

  I let out a sigh, and before long we’re pulling into a subdivision where all the houses look almost exactly alike. “Wow. It would be easy to get lost in here.”

  “Exactly.” She nods. “Sameness equals anonymity.” The car winds around the streets and eventually pulls into the driveway of a tan split-level house. “Here we are.”

  She escorts me directly into the house where Mom and Trista and even the twins happily greet me. After we hug and laugh and dance and rejoice, Mom explains that she couldn’t leave Trista and the kids behind at the apartments. I pick up Lacy and peer into her face. “We’re like one big happy family now,” I gladly tell her.

  “There’s safety in numbers,” Agent Anderson tells me. “But just to be really safe, I want everyone to keep a low profile for the next few weeks. Just until everything shakes down.” She hands Mom a folder. “I’m sure Agent Barclay has explained all this, but there are some good hints and suggestions in this packet. And, of course, we’ll be in regular contact. Even more so as the trials draw near.”

  By September, we’re all still living in the split-level, and I’m back in school. But not my old school, and thanks to the FBI, I go by a different name. Marcia and Bryce and Rod, as well as several others in the LA area, have been arrested and charged and are being held on huge amounts of bail. And more arrests are anticipated. Even more arrests have been made in the Portland area. It’s only one drop in the big bucket of human trafficking, but to those who’ve been rescued or even spared from abduction, it is an important drop.

  Because we’ve been somewhat confined to the house, I’ve spent a fair amount of time researching human trafficking and have been surprised at how widespread and growing this heinous crime is. But just hearing numbers isn’t nearly as startling as imagining the faces behind these numbers. Having known Tatiana, Ruby, Desiree, and the others makes it much more real. So much so that I have decided to do something about it. I plan to go to college in pursuit of a degree that will lead me into a career to help prevent human trafficking. I’m not sure if it will be the FBI, like Agent Anderson, or something else. But I feel certain that God is calling me in this direction.

  Also, after I’ve testified at the various trials along the West Coast, and after the criminals are safely locked up for a long, long tim
e, I plan to start speaking to kids my age about human trafficking. I don’t want to just stand up there and rattle off numbers though — even if this is a multibillion-dollar business with more than 2.5 million forced into slavery around the globe.

  Sure, those are big numbers, but they are impersonal. I want people to understand that the teens in the slave trade are real people — just regular kids like you and me. More than that, I want to warn them about how this can happen — in a heartbeat — to anyone. Not so that teens will be afraid and looking over their shoulders all the time, but so they will be smart … and not fall for stupid lies.

  Thanks to Agent Anderson, I recently reconnected to Tatiana by e-mail. She could hardly believe that I actually made it out of Mr. T’s house and delivered on my promise to send help to them. Well, some of them thought it was help. Apparently Jimmy was not terribly happy — and even less happy when he was arrested.

  After the house was raided, all the girls were taken to a safe house. But according to Tatiana, Kandy ran away the very next day and Tatiana suspects she’s back at one of Tom’s places. But Desiree moved into a group home, and Ruby is trying life with a foster family. Tatiana, to my surprise, has returned home — and even more surprising, she just started going to a church that meets in a coffeehouse. She’s promised to stay in touch with me, and I have promised to continue praying for her. Isn’t God amazing!

  I learned a lot last summer. One of the most important things I learned is that God made us with the sensibility to discern dangerous situations so we can avoid falling into such dire circumstances. But sometimes we forget to listen to his voice … or we ignore his quiet warnings. The good news is that God isn’t like us. He is always listening to us … he always hears us when we call.

  …DISCUSSION QUESTIONS…

  1. Simi had dreams of becoming rich and famous. Do you think this was a mistake? Why or why not?

  2. Simi believed that God watches out for widows and orphans. Why do you think it went so wrong with her?