Currents of Sin

by Arleen Alleman

  “Oh shit.”

  “My sentiments exactly. I decided to cruise around the motel one more time and ended up right in the middle of the crime scene investigation. It was surreal. This guy, Shimmer, was stabbed multiple times—a very violent attack.

  “I was able to convince the cops to talk to me after I explained who I was and why I was there. It helped when I dropped the name of the detective who’s been helping us. They let me see the body, and it was total overkill—vicious. I hope he was dead after the first couple of stabs.

  “Anyway, all the kids were outside the motel huddled together, looking scared to death. I managed to catch the eyes of the two girls Darcy and I have been talking to, but they wouldn’t acknowledge me. I can’t blame them.

  “I’m afraid someone, probably gang members, killed the pimp because he talked to us. And I doubt the girls will give us any more of their time. Now I’m worried about them as well—I mean really worried. They’re just vulnerable kids. You can’t imagine how pathetic they are. This situation is bad and getting worse.” He ran out of breath and abruptly stopped talking.

  “No kidding, Tom. You guys have fallen into something really dangerous. I’ve asked Darcy to pack it in and get out of Vegas. I suggest you do the same.

  “But what the hell is the connection between your street kids and the threats from Denezza? Is it a coincidence—two unrelated issues?”

  “I don’t know. It’s confusing, but I’m worried about Darcy and Sid.”

  “Tom, I was planning to talk to you about setting up a meeting with Grant Murray to see what can be done about Denezza, but now I’m not sure what the parameters of this problem really are. I’ll call him tomorrow and say you’ll call him later and that you can explain all of it. Is that all right?”

  “That will work, thanks.”

  “After you talk to Grant, you and Darcy should get out of town.”

  “You’re right, Mick. But what about Sid?”

  Mick sighed heavily. “Darcy and I have tried to convince them to leave Vegas more than once, but they won’t listen to reason. I don’t see how there’s anything more we can do. Hopefully, Murray will have some new ideas.”

  27

  Day 7

  The next morning, Mick sat impatiently at his desk in the GAO headquarters building, trying to work. He couldn’t resist checking the clock every fifteen minutes or so. Finally, at eleven o’clock, he called his FBI friend.

  Murray came on the line with a friendly greeting. “Good morning, Mick. You’re catching me early. It’s good to hear from you. Are you here in Vegas?”

  “No, I’m at home, but Darcy is there with Tom.”

  “Really? What’s up now?”

  “I can tell you assume there’s a problem. I know it seems as if we’re always asking for your help.”

  Murray laughed. “Oh, I wasn’t thinking that, but now that you mention it …”

  “Yeah, well, I do have a little story to tell.”

  Mick explained all the different elements of the situation as he understood them. “I think that’s everything, but it would be good if you would talk to Tom. The main thing is that Denezza has not given up on menacing Sid, and now he’s turned to Darcy. All the rest is either totally unrelated, or there’s a big piece of information missing.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear all that. I hoped after your problems with him on the Australia cruise, he’d been put out of commission for good. I suspect his attorney has a lot to do with his continued ability to pull strings, even from supermax.

  “If Brooks already notified the prosecutor handling the latest case against him, the only thing I can do is check with our people here to see if our investigations involving trafficking have turned up guys who were his known associates.

  “We know who some of them are, and they could still be on his payroll. But you know what? I can understand the telephone threats, but trafficking doesn’t seem like Denezza’s style. Anyway, I’ll wait for Tom to give me more details.”

  “I guess I know what you mean, but based on the past few years of dealing with him, I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

  After the call, Mick tried to work but found that he could not concentrate. The problems in Vegas were distracting him, and the timing was not good. He and his staff were on a tight deadline preparing two testimonies for separate members of Congress, and neither was coming together as he would like.

  It was important that the messages be carefully crafted. In the current political climate, congressional recipients of GAO’s conclusions and recommendations often ignored the facts in favor of furthering political agendas, which Mick thought made no sense.

  GAO’s reputation for nonpartisan impartial audits and investigations of executive branch programs didn’t seem to impress a new crop of congressional members—or perhaps they didn’t understand it. Still, he was determined to present information to them in a direct easily understood style while explaining the circumstances leading to current inefficiencies in federally funded law enforcement programs.

  As he reviewed and marked up the latest drafts submitted by his staff, he had to accept that there was no way he could get out of DC for at least another week. Otherwise, he’d be on the next flight to Vegas.

  His frustrations with the work and with Darcy’s situation were taking a toll. He’d begun to feel a little less sad about Rachael’s decision to remain in Australia, but ever since his conversations with Darcy and Tom, he could feel his previous anxiety returning.

  When he allowed himself to be brutally honest, he understood that he should seek additional counseling to help with what very well might be residual PTSD symptoms. He resolved to call the therapist after lunch, although he dreaded getting back into the counseling routine he believed he’d left behind.

  Around noon, he left his office on the seventh floor and descended the stairs. Entering the cafeteria on the second level, he thought about what type of food might help reduce anxiety. He remembered Darcy showing him an article about proteins, particularly branched-chain amino acids, which are believed to have a calming effect on the nervous system.

  Of course nothing he could find to eat right now would make an immediate difference. He opted for Swiss steak, a piece of baked fish, baked beans, and a large container of milk. Laughing at himself internally as he paid the cashier, he wondered if he could achieve a placebo effect with the injection of different types of proteins. Balancing a cardboard tray, he took the elevator back to his office and asked his secretary to make sure he was not disturbed for a half hour.

  Staring out the wall-length window at the National Building Museum across G Street, he ate and tried to gain some introspection. After a while, he began to feel a bit more at ease. He’d decided that one thing had proved to be certain time and again. He would have to stop worrying so much about Darcy and trust her judgment.

  This was not because he believed there was no need for concern. To the contrary, he knew she would always put herself at risk. He knew this long before they married. He loved her, and he had to admit he loved her penchant for trying to right wrongs as well. He couldn’t have it both ways. If he did not successfully suppress his fears, which often led to arguments with her, their relationship would be doomed.

  28

  Tom called early in the morning to tell me about Shimmer’s murder. I plopped down on a barstool after my knees almost gave way. I thought I detected a surge in my blood pressure as he was explaining how he was driving down Fremont and came upon the huge police presence. He parked and walked to the motel, where he stood as close as possible to watch the action. Part of me wished I’d been with him. Another part, not so much.

  When he got the chance, he approached a detective and introduced himself. He said he’d made a report yesterday about a possible abduction from the motel and that two of the kids who lived there provided the information. He also mentioned
our conversation with Shimmer.

  “After I mentioned Craig Hollister,” Tom told me, “the detective grudgingly admitted that the victim was the pimp known as Shimmer and told me the basic details of the murder. I couldn’t believe it. I’m afraid Shimmer told the higher-ups in his network—whoever they are—that he talked to us. Or they found out some other way and killed him for it.

  “The detective said there is so much going on downtown with runaways, drugs, gang problems, and prostitution that they consider it a routine thug-on-thug murder. He doesn’t expect anyone, especially the teens, to be willing to shed light on what happened, even if they know something.”

  This trip was out of control, and I would have to tell Don we were finished here one way or the other as I’d already told Mick I would. There was nothing more we could do, and I was really worried about making matters worse.

  The problem was Tom and I felt a deep fear about what might happen to Tina and Banu. If we were the cause of Shimmer’s death, it was bad enough; but if the girls were hurt or worse, I knew I would never recover. The way Tom was invested in Banu’s welfare, I doubted he would either.

  “Tom, we have to get the girls away from there. I don’t care how we do it.”

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing. Let’s go over to STAY and see if we can arrange something. We’ll convince the girls to go there somehow. By the way, I talked to Mick last night and filled him in about the murder.”

  “Oh no, he must be crazy with worry now. We had an incident here last night, and when I told Mick about it … well, it didn’t go well. Sid got another of those calls before I got home, and this time, they mentioned me by name. It was a thinly veiled threat.”

  “I know. Mick told me about it, and we agreed we need to talk to Murray. He’s going to call him this morning with a heads-up. I’ll call myself a little later, and you should tell Brooks about it too. I’m not sure what the FBI can do, even informally, but we can try.”

  After a brief silence, he added, “There must be some way to determine where the calls are coming from. Maybe that’s an angle we can talk to Murray about. Anyway, come over here in a couple of hours, and we’ll go over to STAY.”

  I postponed the dreaded call to Don and Charlie and tried to suppress my worries about Mick as well as the urge to call him again. There was no point in trying to explain to him why we had to keep trying to help the girls. I was glad he and Tom talked and hoped Mick could trust us to take care of ourselves. I intended to keep my promise to Mick about leaving Vegas, but first, we had to secure the girls’ safety. There was no choice about that.

  29

  We arrived at STAY a little before noon. Lorraine was not there. However, her assistant, Lucy, agreed to talk to us. I noted that she didn’t seem very happy about our visit. Watching her walk across the small space to the dining table, I noticed she seemed to lack energy as if the simple movement was a chore. I had a similar impression of Lorraine on our previous visit. The two women must be shouldering heavy burdens, I thought.

  Lucy wore faded jeans with a man’s long-sleeved plaid shirt, and her hair hung lank and without style as if she didn’t care about her appearance. After watching her for a few moments, I began to wonder if she was physically ill.

  With a gesture, she directed us to sit down at the table. We came directly to the point, describing how we’d met Banu and Tina and thought they both showed a lot of promise.

  “We don’t know Tina’s last name, but I assume you can find that out. We hope to get them off the street and away from the motel by placing them here.”

  She didn’t answer right away, and I wanted to give her a chance to think about our request. “Lucy, do you know about the murder at the Green Door last night?”

  She was instantly more alert. The news seemed to frighten her. “No, how would I know about anything going on down there?”

  “Well, it’s surely on the news this morning,” I answered.

  “I haven’t heard anything about it.”

  Her defensive behavior puzzled me. Of course she could be concerned about all the kids still living down there, but her hands were shaking, and she wouldn’t make eye contact. Something was definitely wrong, and I could see that Tom noticed it too.

  “Well, a pimp staying in the motel was killed just outside.”

  Still looking away from us, she seemed to relax a little. “Oh,” she said, finally addressing me directly. “Is that so? Well, anyway, child services has to recommend kids to come here. You’ll need to talk to them. Some kids from that area don’t want to come to STAY.”

  “We already know the girls don’t want to come to the shelter, but we are hoping to change their minds. Why is that, Lucy?”

  A shrug and another gaze at the wall. “I told you, I don’t know anything about what goes on down there.”

  It was hard to tell what she was really thinking because she behaved in a withdrawn, uncommunicative manner one minute, then became aggressive the next. It was puzzling and clear to me that something was bothering her aside from our request to admit the girls into the shelter.

  Abruptly, she stood and walked toward the door. We were being dismissed.

  “There are two available beds,” she said. “But you will need to coordinate with child services to get them into the system, if they are willing to come and, more importantly, if they agree to abide by our rules.”

  Driving back into town, Tom agreed with my assessment of her behavior. “She’s wound pretty tight,” he said. “I got the feeling she has some sort of problem with the street kids at the motel. She tried to cover it, but the news about the murder rattled her. Maybe we should call Lorraine directly.”

  “Maybe so. I wonder if Lucy is the reason kids are reluctant to go there. She sounds as if she could be very tough about the so-called rules. Anyway, we’re going to have to get child services involved. This is getting too complicated. Wouldn’t it be better to convince the girls to request beds at the shelter? You know, put themselves into the system?”

  “We can sure give it one more try, but we should be quick about it. Under the circumstances, I don’t think we should hang around the motel anymore.”

  “You’re right. One other thing, though. I want to talk to Ping again. Whatever he’s up to, I don’t think it’s for the kids benefit.”

  30

  We found Tina inside the mission, which was surprising since the kids were normally asleep in the middle of the day. There was no doubt from the beginning that she was angry. I couldn’t blame her, and I was surprised she would even talk to us. Huddled together at one of Ping’s rickety tables, we spoke to her quietly, trying not to draw the attention of the preacher or the few kids who were scattered around the room.

  She said everyone was traumatized over Shimmer’s murder and made a point of telling us this was the last time she would speak to us.

  “I’ll be fine, but if you can help Banu somehow, I would be grateful.”

  Tom nodded, then whispered, “All she has to do is agree to go over to STAY for a while. She will be safe there.”

  Tina was vigorously shaking her head. “No!”

  “But why not?” I asked.

  After a brief hesitation and a typical security check of her surroundings, she answered. “We know this girl who told us stories about the staff there and how they are just as bad as the gang members and pimps, only in a different way. Some kids still go there—the ones who are too new to know better. But I’ll never go, and neither will Banu.”

  “Who was this girl?”

  Of course she shook her head. She wasn’t going to give us a name, if such a girl even existed. Not knowing how to counter that revelation, Tom and I shared a look and sat in silence.

  Then Tom suggested that Banu present herself to the county child services office and ask for assistance. “Because of her age, they should welcome her into the system. Th
ere must be other options besides STAY. That might not be ideal, but it is better than living on the street doing … what you gals do.”

  “No one wants to be part of that system. We’ve heard horror stories about foster care.” She thought for a minute. “Course, there have to be good situations. Maybe what we’ve heard are exaggerations. Anyway, Banu is so scared she won’t leave the room.” She jerked her head in the direction of the motel.

  Tom reacted by slapping his hand on the table. Tina jumped, and he apologized. “I’m very worried about her. I have to do something to help her before I leave Vegas. Tina, you could convince her to let us help.”

  Maybe his sincere interest gained her confidence. “I’ll talk to her, and if she agrees, we still have your numbers. I’ll call.”

  That wasn’t particularly satisfying, but it seemed to be all we would get from her.As we got up to leave, I tried once more to reach her.

  “Tina, please let us help you too. You’re way too smart to be in this life. I know you could finish your education and be successful at whatever you want to do.”

  Her eyes quickly filled with tears. “It’s too late now. I’ll stay with Tadashi. He knows …”

  With more than a hint of annoyance, Tom leaned down with his mouth next to her ear. “I don’t know what that guy is telling you, but Darcy is right. You are too smart to buy into whatever scam he’s running. I have a feeling there’s some kind of indoctrination taking place. Just ask yourself what motivates him to keep you coming back here instead of helping you get off the streets. That is the real way someone can help you—like we are trying to do.”

  He leaned away, and Tina gave him a wide-eyed stare. I saw her swallow back more tears. She shook her head and turned her back to us. We were being dismissed again.

  “Maybe your words got to her, and she needs time to think about it,” I offered as we stepped out onto the sidewalk, blinking into white-hot glare.