Jack gripped Brinna’s shoulders and pulled her back. “Let’s hear what she has to say.”
“She’s already given us names.” Welty held out a file of mug shots.
Brinna jerked herself from Jack’s grasp and took the folder from Welty. They were in the burglary offices huddled around Welty’s desk while in the back of the room a SWAT team was prepping for action. It was after 6 p.m. now and dark out.
“The head bad guy is Demitri Dinev,” Welty continued. “He’s got no record in the States but an extensive one in Europe. Interpol gave us the picture.” Welty then went through all the information they had gleaned from Magda about the man who had exploited so many. Interpol provided a rap sheet from Europe. Most of the arrests were minor, and most had never been prosecuted, but the information gave the investigation a boost. It also gave them known associates.
“Simon Greuv, another petty criminal, is the one we believe has your mother and the Bulgarian girl.”
Brinna pulled the picture of Simon from the file and studied it.
“A photo of him has been distributed to all the major news outlets,” Welty continued. “Chuck and ICE decided a full-court press will be the only way to shake something loose.”
“You’re not afraid of scaring these guys into doing something rash?” Jack asked.
Welty shook his head. “According to Magda, Demitri is not in the country right now; he’s possibly back in Bulgaria. It’s just Simon we have to deal with.”
“Going public might spook Demitri. He could stay in Bulgaria or another European country and never be arrested for his crimes in the US.” Jack took the words from Brinna’s mouth.
She sat back, leaning against a window. She didn’t trust herself to speak with this woman in the room. They had yet to learn the entire story behind the human trafficking, but they did know one important fact: Magda Boteva had known what was going on for years. The girls were promised jobs at her shop. The thought of that deception was like a match to gasoline on Brinna’s already-seething emotions.
Welty rubbed his chin and gave a half shrug. “There is a chance of that, but the priority at the moment is getting Rose and Ivana home safely. We want to put pressure on Simon. Magda gave us a great lead.” He deferred to her.
“There is a piece of property near the harbor,” Magda explained. “It’s not owned by Demitri or anyone Bulgarian. It’s owned by a Canadian associate of Demitri’s. It’s mostly vacant except for a large warehouse. Demitri takes all the girls there when he first brings them into the country. If Simon is not at the house where the girls were kept, he will be at the warehouse. I know of no other place he would hide.”
“Is this warehouse normally empty?” Jack asked.
“Yes, he may store his car there and maybe some merchandise. But my guess is that it will be empty until he returns from Bulgaria.” Magda cast her gaze to the ground.
At least she has the decency to be embarrassed about what she’s allowed to continue, Brinna thought.
Detective Welty laid a map of the harbor on his desk, and Magda pointed out the location of the warehouse. The SWAT sergeant stepped close to listen in.
“He’ll see us coming from a mile away,” Brinna said as she studied the route through the harbor. “Talk about being hidden in plain sight. This warehouse was right under our noses; how is it that no one noticed something illegal was going on?”
“It wasn’t where he was running his business, so he probably stayed off the radar,” Jack observed.
“We have a signed warrant; everything is a green light. It won’t be a problem for an armed team to approach on foot under cover of darkness.” SWAT Sergeant Hall pointed to a path south of the warehouse that would provide reasonable cover for a team on foot. “I’ve got my teams ready to go—one for the ground assault and one assigned to vehicles.” He stood ready, arms crossed over his black uniform, a wad of tobacco visible in his left cheek.
“Wait a second,” Brinna protested. “If there are innocent hostages in the warehouse, you can’t storm it.”
“Relax, Caruso.” The tobacco wad moved from Hall’s left cheek to his right as he regarded Brinna with an unreadable expression. “The foot team will determine if a ground assault is warranted. After they determine if the targets are even there.”
“If they’re there, we’ll need a negotiator,” Brinna said.
“Got one—downstairs in MOC-1. It’s Gomez.”
Brinna sighed, happy with that information at least. She was on unfamiliar turf here and had to concede that the SWAT sergeant knew what he was doing. The team also had proficient negotiators—calm, professional, and trustworthy. If she’d been able to pick, Gomez would have been her choice.
“I’d like to hang out in MOC-1 and watch the progress of the team on the monitors,” Brinna said. MOC-1, the Mobile Operations Center, was a large recreational vehicle outfitted with radios, satellite systems, phones—everything needed to be a rolling police command post.
Hall looked at the watch commander, Lieutenant Harvey. Harvey was probably the only weak link as far as Brinna was concerned, and she hated the fact that they had a history. He was new and so by the book, she feared he would not be able to make critical decisions quickly. Luckily Jack spoke up before Harvey could object.
“Okay, Brinna, let’s get downstairs and into the RV so we’ve got a good seat when this show hits the road.” He grabbed her arm, and they left the office with no objections from Harvey or Hall.
Brinna shoved her hands in her pockets, not wanting to think about what would happen if Magda’s information was incorrect. The warehouse in the harbor was the last best hope of finding her mother quickly. She hoped with all her heart that Rose was in the warehouse and that she was still alive.
* * *
FOX, the police helicopter, circled in the sky above the harbor. Brinna sat in MOC-1 viewing the video feed from the chopper. The warehouse sat by itself on an old pier. There was no activity of any kind around the pier, no ships docked close by and no vehicles on the dock.
“It looks deserted,” Brinna observed. She chewed on an index finger since both of her thumbnails had already been gnawed painfully short.
“Don’t let that fool you,” the SWAT sergeant said. “The warehouse is large enough to hold several vehicles. It’s possible our suspect pulled the car inside to make us believe the place was deserted. Our first team will reach the place in a few minutes.”
He pointed over Brinna’s shoulder to the screen at the six-man team that approached the warehouse on foot. A ground approach was the only way to make a stealth attack. The black-clad SWAT team moved efficiently across the space between the warehouse and the command post. Their only cover was scrub brush, but Brinna had to admire their skill. She detected them because she knew what to look for. She doubted anyone in the warehouse would be able to see them coming.
“They’ll get an eye inside the warehouse with a remote camera and microphone that will pick up any sound,” he continued. “Then we’ll have a better idea of what we’re facing.”
The sergeant left to confer with his negotiator. Brinna blew out a frustrated breath and searched for Jack. He was in another part of the command center on the phone. Brinna knew he was trying to figure out which vehicle the man holding Ivana and Rose might be in. Since the van had been impounded at the house in Hawaiian Gardens, they had no idea what mode of transportation they should be on the lookout for.
Jack hung up the phone as Brinna reached his side.
“Any news?” she asked.
“The van was a rental, a long-term rental to BVD Enterprises.”
“BVD? Is that some kind of joke?”
Jack shrugged. “Not sure. But the other three houses that have been searched all had vehicles leased to the same company.”
Brinna considered this information. She knew that the three search warrants Chuck had told her about had been served. ICE freed more women and several young men who were being held against their will. All were fro
m Eastern European countries, and most of the women had been forced into prostitution, though a few were used as house cleaners. The men were used for various types of manual labor. As for the men holding the captives, six had been arrested, and two had died in gunfights with federal agents. The story was big news, and media coverage was exploding. Already two news helicopters had been warned away from the harbor.
But none of the arrests had gotten them any closer to Rose and Ivana, nor had any of the men arrested been forthcoming with information. They clearly understood the importance of American Miranda rights and were asking for lawyers. Equally frustrating was the lack of a paper trail. None of the houses turned up anything important—no computer records and, other than the documents belonging to the women, no paperwork.
“How are you holding up?” Jack asked, his full attention on Brinna. “Sorry I had to pull you back.”
Brinna looked up at him, stepped close so their hands touched. “I don’t blame you; I was out of control.”
Jack stroked her forearm with an index finger. “No one here faults you for that.”
“I need to keep control, so thanks for the brush back. You know me. I hate to be on the sidelines. I want to be in the game. Right now caution is the wise course, but I sure wish we could rush the place and find out what . . .” She looked away as she considered that they might enter the warehouse and find only bodies.
“Hang on.” Jack took her hand and held it in both of his. “There is encouraging news. One vehicle rented by BVD is still outstanding. It’s a four-door Chevy sedan. Could be that car will lead us to your mom.”
“We have a visual on the inside of the warehouse.” Hall’s voice cut across the command post like a crack of lightning.
Brinna and Jack turned to look at him.
“No vehicles, no movement or sound.” His brows furrowed as he concentrated on what he was hearing in his earpiece. “The place appears to be deserted. I’m sending in the vehicles; we’re going in the front door.”
60
BRINNA STOOD with her arms folded, an uncomfortable position with the cast on her left, and surveyed the small room within which her mother had been held captive. She knew her mom had been there because of the slippers. Near the door, next to the dead man, they’d found two pairs of slippers. One belonged to her mother. They’d been a Christmas gift from Brinna last year. The second pair was new and smaller, and Brinna could only surmise that they belonged to Ivana. The fact that the slippers were there could indicate one of two things. Either Ivana and Rose left the building so quickly the slippers came off, or they weren’t ambulatory and didn’t need the slippers.
Brinna refused to consider the second possibility. And the scene didn’t support it. There was no other blood than that of the dead man. He’d been shot twice, and they’d recovered two casings. No, she decided that Simon had panicked and rushed the two women out of the warehouse. Everyone was gone before SWAT arrived. But what spooked him?
The coroner had not yet removed the dead body, and they hadn’t learned much from him. He had no ID and who or what he was in this mess was a mystery. Brinna didn’t think he’d been dead long; she’d seen enough dead bodies to feel comfortable with her assessment. The coroner could pinpoint the time of death, but knowing that to the minute wasn’t going to get her any closer to finding her mother.
Jaw set, she watched the lab tech work, clenching and unclenching her good fist beneath her elbow. Brinna felt frustrated by the fact that they had no more leads to follow. A federal forensic team would arrive shortly to go over the warehouse with a fine-tooth comb. Long Beach PD was bowing out; SWAT was demobilizing; everyone was going home. The last place Brinna wanted to go was home.
They had to do something, or she was certain she’d climb right out of her skin.
“Brin.” She turned as Jack approached with a cup of coffee. He and Ben would be the department’s liaisons with the Feds.
“Thanks.” She took the offered cup in her good hand and gulped, nearly choking on the bitterness. “Has she come up with any other ideas?” Brinna rasped and nodded toward MOC-1, referring to Magda Boteva. The woman seemed shocked when they’d discovered the warehouse was empty. Brinna had avoided talking to her, still simmering with the knowledge that Magda had known about the exploitation of dozens of young women for years and done nothing.
Jack shook his head. “This is the only location belonging to Demitri that she was privy to. At least we know your mom and Ivana were here.” He pointed to the slippers that had been marked but not bagged yet. The lab tech’s camera flash went off every few seconds. “We were just late.”
“I’ve been thinking about when kids are abducted.” Brinna took a deep breath, blew it out, collecting her thoughts. “What do the bad guys do when they are on the run with a victim? In my experience, they either give up and throw themselves on the mercy of the judicial system, or they kill their victim, get rid of the evidence, and run. When they’re cornered, they go with the option they think will benefit them most.”
“This guy’s got to know we’re on his trail. His picture went out on every local and cable news station available. He’s more or less cornered,” Jack said. “Any insight on what you think he’ll do?”
“I need to know more about him. When I chased Corliss, I knew the creep. I knew how his mind worked and what he was most likely to try. I refuse to believe catching him was pure luck. I was in his mind.” She took another swallow of coffee, realizing that the only way she could gain any insight into the man who held her mother was to talk to Magda. She had to get past the anger that made her want to throttle the woman and instead pick her brain about this abductor.
“Chuck has everyone on alert at the other locations. It’s possible this guy might flee to one of those houses.”
Brinna drained the coffee cup, then crushed it. “Maybe.” She faced Jack. “I need to talk to—” She jerked her head toward MOC-1. Tossing the cup in the trash, Brinna walked past Jack toward the command center, hoping she could keep all the frustration and anger she felt from bubbling over while she tried to get what she needed from Magda.
Magda and her husband had their heads together and were speaking in low tones when Brinna entered MOC-1. Welty was drinking coffee and munching on a doughnut.
“You mind if I talk to her?” Brinna asked.
Welty shrugged, his mouth full. His expression said, Go ahead.
“Excuse me.” Brinna stepped toward the couple.
The woman looked up, her eyes red and puffy.
“I want you to tell me all you can about this guy, this Simon.” Brinna leaned against a counter.
Magda cleared her throat. “I’ve told Detective Welty everything.”
“Everything about where he might be. That’s not what I’m asking. I want to know about the man. What’s his position in this organization? What is his role with the girls? What kind of guy is he? Anything you can tell me about him will be helpful.”
The woman took a deep breath. “I . . . I’m not certain. He’s not Demitri’s right-hand man—that would be Emil, and Emil is with Demitri.” She glanced at her husband, whose expression seemed to encourage her to go on. “I think Simon was simply responsible for watching the girls. Demitri told me once or twice that Simon had a calming influence on them. He was not responsible for discipline or for recruiting. He lived at the home with the girls and saw to their needs.”
“Their needs?”
“Yes—food, clothing, that sort of thing.”
“A civilized jailer, you mean?” Brinna blew out a breath, right hand absentmindedly moving to scratch an itch on her left hand she couldn’t get to. “And you never went to any of the houses where the girls were kept?”
“No. I was not part of that. I only—”
“You only lured the poor girls here by promising them jobs.” Brinna’s anger would stay bottled up no longer.
Magda’s husband started to speak, but Magda waved him quiet.
“I never! That
was Demitri.” She stood and faced Brinna. “Demitri is behind all of this.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re just as bad as he is. You knew what was happening, and you never lifted a finger to help those girls.”
“What could I do? Demitri would have killed me, killed my family. He is a vicious animal.”
“You were afraid,” Brinna mocked the woman. “Then why come forward now? Couldn’t he still find a way to kill you?”
“Yes, he could.” When Magda met her angry glare, Brinna recognized something in the woman’s eyes. Something she’d seen before . . . in the eyes of victims who’d been abused over and over until they finally decided to stand up to the abuser. There was a spark of fight in those eyes along with a glint of fear.
Brinna took a step back as the edges of her opinion of the woman softened.
“I can’t stand by and let another girl be hurt, no matter what happens to me,” Magda continued. “Whether you believe me or not, that is the truth. I must be my sister’s keeper.”
That statement took Brinna by surprise. “Your sister’s keeper?”
“Yes. It is a story from the Bible. About a brother who murders a brother, and God—”
Brinna waved her quiet and cast a pained glance at Jack, who looked surprised. Rubbing her brow, Brinna grimaced. “I remember hearing that story in Sunday school. Let’s get back on topic.” She exhaled. “How do you know Simon if you never went to the house? How do you know what he did?”
“From time to time I would see him here. Every so often Demitri would bring me here when new girls arrived. He would help coordinate things for the girls.” Her voice broke, and she seemed to pull strength from somewhere to keep from crying. “I didn’t interact with the girls. Demitri brought me here to be sure that I knew he was in control.” She blew her nose. “And Simon has also been to my shop.”
“Your shop?”
“Yes, he had been there once or twice with Demitri, but most recently he came there when the girl ran away.”
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