“It was nothing,” she said, coming back to the table.
“Okay, Sid, if you say so.” I gave her a look intended to convey my skepticism.
“What do you mean?”
“You might have fooled Brooks last night, but I saw how nervous you were over the wrong number or whatever it was. Now the same thing apparently just happened again.”
“We get a lot of hang-up calls here. Just wrong numbers, I’m sure. We got a new phone number when we moved, and I think maybe the calls are for whoever had this number before us.”
“Then why did you get so upset about the call last night?”
“I wasn’t upset.”
“Your hands were shaking, and you looked downright scared. What was that?” I hoped the direct approach was best in this case.
Sid laid down her fork and leaned away from the table, clenching the edge of it, her arms rigid. She shook her head and declined to answer.
“I’m so sorry, Sid. I’m making you angry and I don’t want that. I’m … well, Mick and I are both worried about you living in Vegas with Paul’s friends still in town. He’s coming up on his second trial before long, and he has to be enraged about getting caught twice trying to hurt you. Are these calls really innocent wrong numbers?”
She relaxed her posture and picked up her fork. I saw the effort she was making to appear nonchalant. “All that is behind me. I just want to be happy with Brooks.”
She gulped a mouthful of wine, then coughed and ran the back of her hand across her mouth. Despite her efforts, a tear slid down her freckled cheek. I reached over and took her hand.
“I know, Sid. It’s outrageous that he still has influence and even people who continue to do what he tells them. But you have to face that reality. If something is going on related to him, you have to talk to Brooks about it. He needs to know there’s something to be concerned about. Is there?”
She sniffed and sipped, apparently trying to decide whether to come clean. Thankfully, she made the right choice.
“I know you’re right, Darcy. And you’re right about the calls. There’s a man on the line, and he always says the same thing to me before he hangs up.” She shuddered, and more tears filled her eyes, spilling over her amber lashes.
“What does he say?”
She looked at me miserably. “He just says, ‘Not done with you yet.’ I don’t want to worry Brooks. And if I tell him, he’ll try to do something about it, and that will only make things worse.”
“You’re afraid for him, I know. We all understand how bad Paul is.”
“I’d never be able to handle it if Brooks was hurt because of Paul’s crazy vendetta against me.”
“You’re right about this being a dangerous situation, but Brooks loves you, and you should trust him. You don’t need to deal with this alone. Tell him, Sid. Tell him tonight.”
Sid was enjoying her new life so much that she’d let herself slip into denial. Her ex-husband was in fact a bit insane and almost succeeded in killing her twice. He called shots even from his prison cell. I hoped this conversation would help her face the reality of the danger she might still be in.
A little later, Don called to say he could not get an appointment at STAY until the following morning. He sounded distracted but said he was just tired. He had no luck at the motel and hadn’t seen any teens hanging around outside or anywhere else on the surrounding streets.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “Thanks for everything. Enjoy your visit with Sid.”
We tried to enjoy the rest of the afternoon, but her apprehension about facing Brooks hijacked our enjoyment. She could not relax and kept going back over options that didn’t really exist. In the end, she accepted that she would have to admit what was going on with the phone calls, most of which occurred when she was at home alone.
I told her I wanted to take a nap and went to the guest room to lie down. I phoned Mick at 5:00 p.m. his time, figuring that he would be getting ready to leave the office. We had a conversation free of conflict, and I told him about the visit with the detective and about Sid’s abusive calls.
“Damn it, I was afraid of something like that happening,” he said. “Guys like Paul who have a lot of connections and money can do just about anything they want. Sid and Brooks should not be living in Vegas.”
“You know they aren’t going to move. Brooks is too entrenched with his business here. They need to call the police, and what do you think of getting Murray involved?”
“Yeah, I’ll talk to Brooks after Sid clues him in and see if he wants me to do that.”
Grant Murray is a good friend of Mick’s—well, a friend to all of us. He’s also the special agent in charge at the Vegas FBI field office. It’s hard to say where Mick and I and our friends would be if not for his help in the past.
“Honey, what do you know about this human trafficking business?” I asked. As director in charge of state law enforcement issues for the Government Accountability Office, he knows a lot about all facets of policing.
“I’m aware that the problem exists in cities all over the country and has escalated in the past five years or so. I think Murray would know a lot about what is going on with that in Vegas, and it’s another reason to call him. Not that he would have any information about whether Pamela is caught up in trafficking, but it would be interesting to get his take on it.”
He stopped talking, and I could sense he was collecting his thoughts. “Are you all right, honey?” I asked.
“I was just wondering if I should try to take off for a few days and fly out there. I miss you, and I’m so sorry I’ve been a little down lately.”
“I love you, Mick. I’m okay, and you don’t need to come. Tom will be here tomorrow to lend a hand. By the way, I’d say you’ve been more than a little down. Are you feeling better?”
The silence on his end was not encouraging. Finally, he said, “I guess so. Do you think it would be all right if I go ahead and ask Rachael directly if she’ll bring Anna over for a visit?”
“I don’t see how that can hurt, as long as you’re prepared to hear that she doesn’t want to do that right now. It’s a long flight from Australia, you know, Mick?”
“Yeah, I know.”
Before we disconnected, Mick asked me to have Tom call him when he arrived so they could coordinate on contacting Murray. He and Tom also developed a strong professional relationship when Tom assisted the FBI and GAO in their investigation of shipboard crimes. Tom was the security chief on the ship when we met him, that is, until the cruise line fired him as a scapegoat in the face of a great deal of negative publicity.
I thought Mick sounded better, but I also thought he was trying hard to convince me of that fact. Maybe a call to Rachael would help. I hoped it didn’t have the opposite effect. I wasn’t returning to DC until I followed through with the search for Pammie, so Mick would have to drive out his own demons for a while longer.
Brooks arrived, and we went to dinner at a nearby low-key pub where he and Sid were regular customers. I could see that Sid was anxious but figured she would tell him about the calls later at home.
Twice during the meal, he asked if something was bothering her, but she insisted everything was fine. I really hoped she would not change her mind about telling him the truth, but I could understand why she didn’t want to get into it in the restaurant.
I explained everything I could remember about the meeting with Detective Hollister. Brooks seemed to already know about the prostitution and gang problems. He didn’t know much about STAY but said he’d donated money to the shelter and would be interested to hear about our visit. Over the past several years, Brooks has become quite civic-minded, regularly attending fund-raisers, donating money, and keeping up with community issues.
When we arrived back at the house, I thought I would turn in early to give them some privacy, but Sid didn’t lik
e that idea.
“No, Darcy. Please stay up a while.” She gave me a knowing look from across the living room.
I returned to sit on the soft buttery leather sectional. Sid busied herself making coffee, and as soon as she placed our three mugs on the cocktail table, she came quickly to the point. I was so proud of the way she gently explained about the phone calls she’d been getting for several weeks. At the end of her confession, she apologized to Brooks for waiting so long to tell him.
“I guess I just didn’t want to believe the calls were meant for me. I’m sorry, but I’m telling you now, hon. And I want to know what you think we should do about it.”
Brooks frowned down at his clasped hands all during her explanation. After a few seconds, he looked up at me with a grim smile.
“I suspect you have something to do with Sid’s confession.”
“Well, I know my friend very well. I thought something was wrong, and I did encourage her to tell you.”
He reached for Sid’s hand. “I’ll make some calls tomorrow to the police and the prosecutor in Colorado in charge of Paul’s case. They might be interested in the fact that he’s making threats from prison.”
Sid nodded but didn’t seem convinced. “We don’t know for sure that Paul is behind the calls. There’s no proof.”
“That’s true, but don’t you think it’s a little too coincidental that the asshole said they’re not finished with you? Who else could it be?”
“Brooks is right, Sid. It’s time to take this very seriously. I’m just curious. Do you know where Paul’s buddies are?”
“No, I don’t think the new owners of Athens Olympia would have any involvement with Paul’s previous employees, but I suppose it’s possible some of them are still hanging around there.”
Sid inherited the famous Vegas landmark with her divorce following Paul’s conviction. She quickly sold it, setting herself up financially for life. I was staring at her while I thought about the hotel. Apparently, I wasn’t masking my thoughts very well.
“Darcy, I know what you’re thinking.” She was glaring at me. “Do not go to Athens Olympia.”
“Absolutely,” Brooks said. “Sid is right. There’s no way you should try to get involved with this. You’ve enough to worry about trying to help Don with his problems. Although frankly, I see that as a losing battle.”
9
In another part of the city, two street kids huddled together under a blanket in the backseat of a Jeep Cherokee. A fine film of mist on the outside of the windows obscured their view as they traveled through the first light of morning. They had no idea where they were or where they were going.
One was a short skinny young girl with straight brown hair. The other was a little older and taller with a darker complexion. Earlier, the two friends ate dinner at the mission across from the Green Door before working a shift on the streets. Then after 2:00 a.m., they retired for the night.
A few hours later, they were jarred awake by rough hands tightly covering their mouths. Two men dragged them from the room and into the waiting car. The manner and speed with which this happened was a surprise, but not the event itself. They were prepared for the possibility of something like this and knew they must not resist. Both trusted to some degree that all would be well as it is supposed to be.
It was clear they’d left the downtown area behind and were traveling on the interstate. It wasn’t clear to either of them which direction they were headed.
In the front seat, the two men—obviously not Americans—smoked cigarettes and drank coffee. Every few minutes, the one riding shotgun turned to check on the girls with the same cruel, menacing stare. The men periodically laughed at their own jokes and chatted in a combination of English and another language the girls did not understand.
Finally, they exited the highway and drove for another fifteen minutes over a rutted dirt road. When the engine shut off, no other sound took its place. For a time, the unnerving silence was broken only by the driver drumming his fingers on the center console. He drained the last of his coffee, crumpled the cardboard cup, and tossed it over the seat onto the floor.
“I’ll take a look,” the other one said.
A blast of fresh cool air rushed in through his open door. He stepped out, leaving it ajar. After crushing his cigarette in the dirt, he walked slowly away into the gloomy desert. Now a little more afraid, the girls watched his back until he disappeared over a small rise. Suddenly, the silence was broken by a distant droning, which quickly became loud and close.
The man hurried back to the car. “Okay, let’s get them out and ready,” he said, pulling the back door open. Quickly, they dragged the girls out and tied their hands behind their backs. Sandwiched between the men, they stumbled across a strip of desert toward the rising sun, picking their way among creosote bushes, cacti, and Joshua trees. The low vibrating sound was now unmistakable. A plane was landing nearby.
The younger girl’s eyes darted in every direction. She’d all but forgotten the preparations and her previous acquiescence. She believed something very bad was about to happen and realized this might be the last of a series of very bad events that began when her mom threw her out of the house.
At first, she couldn’t understand why that had happened. Sure, Mom was angry about her minor drug use and refusal to obey a curfew, but that didn’t seem like a sufficient reason to disown her. Then she’d figured out that her mom’s actions had everything to do with the new boyfriend, Daryl.
His unwelcome attention—hugs that lasted too long and silly sayings whispered into her ear—made the girl uncomfortable. But they made her mom jealous and angry. As it turned out, that was far worse.
The taller girl could tell an equally tragic story related to lack of early nurturing and an abusive parent. Her shoulders shook with cold and fear. Denial slipped away from her as well, and she admitted to herself what this was. Living as they did, the danger of being exploited was always a companion, but this was the ultimate fear.
Some kids said it was just a matter of time. Now it was her time. Despite assurances—false ones, no doubt—she now assumed they would be flown out of the country and sold as sex slaves. She also knew she would die before that happened—one way or the other. The two girls had lived at the Green Door for weeks, watching out for each other and avoiding major problems. Their luck had run out.
They arrived at a hard-packed dirt landing strip just as a small white plane taxied to a stop near the gravel edge. The door opened, and the girls were shoved up and into the backseat. The two men sitting up front did not speak. There was no time to think or act. The door closed, and within minutes, they were airborne with the sun brilliantly warming the left side of the tiny cabin.
Several hours later, the Cessna 140 landed at General Roberto Fierro Villalobos International Airport in Chihuahua, Mexico. Of course the girls had no idea where they were, only that they were being taken far from home.
The pilot parked near the terminal and remained in his seat while his partner went inside to buy food for all of them at Johnny Rockets. When he returned, he untied their hands so they could eat. Despite being famished, they had difficulty pushing down the greasy burgers and chocolate milk shakes and keeping them there.
At the far southern tip of the airport, they taxied up close to a small white jet. The girls knew nothing about the nine-passenger Gulfstream 180 or its twenty-million-dollar price tag. However, on its side, large blue lettering in a Middle Eastern language sent a spike of panic through both girls. Just below, in smaller English characters was the name Silver Hawk. It was not reassuring.
As the men pulled them out of the Cessna, the door to the jet’s cabin opened. Immediately, a woman wearing a floral print hijab over a long teal skirt and a pleasant, even friendly, expression descended the steps. Taking both their arms, she scooted them ahead of her back up the narrow stairway.
Inside t
he cabin, two plush upholstered couches lined the wall on one side with a table rising out of the floor in front. On the other side of the cabin, four soft leather seats faced the center aisle, each flanked by curtained windows. The tastefully decorated interior was sparkling clean and opulent.
She urged the girls toward a door at the rear. Two amber-colored leaded glass sconces sat high up on the polished wood wall on either side.
They hesitated and looked at the woman for direction. She flapped her hands toward the door, still smiling broadly. With the older girl in the lead, they pushed through the door, not knowing what to expect.
Inside, they found a luxurious bathroom with two stalls, a long vanity, and two gold sinks. Beautiful blue, white, and yellow wall tiles flowed across the room in patterns reminiscent of graceful ocean waves. At the far end was a roomy tiled shower stall. Next to the entrance, ornate shelving held a myriad of neatly stocked products from shampoo and lotions to condoms and feminine hygiene products. The air was fragranced with a pungent, sweet perfume.
“What’s going on?” the younger girl asked.
“Shush, they might be listening.”
They relieved themselves and washed their hands. Before opening the door, the older girl stopped and leaned down to whisper. “Do exactly what they say. They don’t want to hurt us.” Yet, she thought.
The grinning woman was waiting for them just outside. With a graceful gesture, she directed them to one of the long couches. As they were getting seated next to each other, two uniformed men with short clipped beards boarded, closed and locked the door, and strode to the front without even a glance in their direction.
The men entered the cockpit, and the security door slammed shut, leaving the girls alone in the cabin with the woman and her creepy perpetual smile. She sat down in one the chairs across from the girls. They looked at each other with similar expressions of horror and clasped hands on the seat between them. Keeping her eye on the woman, the older girl leaned close to her friend and whispered, “Try to stay calm. There’s nothing we can do now that won’t get us hurt.”
Currents of Sin Page 6