Brinna frowned. “Why did he come to you?”
“He thought I would help him. He knows I fear Demitri—we all do. He thought I would help him get the girl back.”
“But you didn’t,” Brinna said, half to herself. “Does he know you went to the police?”
“I don’t know. He may now if he sees his picture on television. But Demitri must never know. Do you understand that if you find Simon, we can stop this madness before Demitri returns?” She held her hands out, pleading with Brinna. “If we stop Simon, perhaps we can stop Demitri and save many, many more girls.”
Brinna stared at her, wanting to believe the intensity in her voice. But the anger simmering inside clouded her thoughts and threatened to boil over.
“How long ago did he call you?”
“Just before we went to the police station.” Magda looked at Anton. “About seven or eight hours ago now, I think.”
A glimmer of hope formed in Brinna’s heart. “Maybe he’ll call again.”
61
A LONG LINE of federal vehicles wound down the road to the warehouse, passing MOC-1 as the RV transported Magda, Anton, and LBPD personnel back to the station. Once there, they set up camp in the detective bureau conference room. Brinna tamped down her smoldering anger with Magda and confronted the woman.
“You must know more than you are saying—you must! These people call you; they visit your store. How many years have you been party to their brutality?”
Magda seemed to melt into Anton. But when he started to say something, Magda stopped him.
“No, I will answer.” She pushed away from him. “How long, you ask? Too long. I have lived in fear too long. But I was never a part of their brutality, and I’m trying hard to make up for it.”
“What are you hiding? Are you protecting yourself from something incriminating? There must be—”
Jack stepped forward and placed his hand on Brinna’s arm. “Brin, she’s been helping. I think your anger is misplaced.”
She turned on him, ready to hit him with both barrels, but the love and concern in his eyes stopped her.
“I have told you everything. If there were something else, I’d—” Magda’s voice broke and she held both hands out, palms up, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Brinna blew out a breath as what Jack said cut through her angry haze. He was right—she wanted Demitri and Simon and was lashing out at Magda. She stomped away from the group to sit by the window.
Jack and Welty brought Ben up to speed. He’d come to the station after finishing up with Hawaiian Gardens and wanted to know what happened at the warehouse.
Magda and Anton settled in on the other end of the room and called the neighbor who was watching their children, asking whether it was okay that they stay the night. Though Jack had said they could leave Magda’s phone in case Simon called and go home, Magda wanted very much to stay and see everything turn out for the best.
By now it was close to ten o’clock. Everyone was exhausted, but hope burned in Brinna that Simon would call Magda one more time and give them something to go on. The store owner’s phone lay plugged into a charger on Jack’s desk.
Brinna positioned her chair closer to the window. She sat as still as she could, fighting restlessness, and stared out into the dark night. That she was tired was an understatement. She felt worn out, and her wrist continued to throb. It was difficult to keep her thoughts clear and not dwell on the discomfort she felt, emotional and physical.
Why did Simon move the women? she wondered again. He panicked, left in a hurry. What spooked him?
“Magda.” Jack’s voice cut into Brinna’s musings. She looked to where Jack had pulled a chair up and sat close to Magda and her husband. “Tell me about you being your sister’s keeper.”
Brinna tuned in to hear the woman’s response. Most of the anger she’d felt toward Magda Boteva had dissipated. She’d dealt with too many victims like her whose lives had been twisted and dictated by fear. Brinna realized that Jack was right; Magda was just as much a victim as Ivana. Demitri had reached out and brutalized her family, thereby brutalizing the woman. Now the anger Brinna felt was directed solely at Demitri Dinev.
“I came to realize one night, after hearing my husband tell our children a Bible story about Cain and Abel, that we are responsible for each other.” Magda answered Jack as she smiled and squeezed Anton’s hand. “I mean ‘we’ as human beings. I have been ashamed at myself for letting these girls suffer for so long. I had to step forward, no matter what the cost, to save myself as well as those girls. Please forgive me for being a coward.”
“In Bulgaria,” Anton spoke up, “Magda would have been murdered quickly for saying anything about this situation. She needed to be certain she could trust you American police.”
“I understand your fear. It can be a paralyzing emotion. I’ve dealt with a lot of reluctant witnesses. I’m glad you came forward now. And Cain and Abel opened your eyes?”
“To me, the story showed a God who was giving Cain an opportunity to confess his wrong and be saved in some way.” Magda squared her shoulders. “I’d felt dirty for so long. I desperately wanted to confess, to save those girls, and perhaps be saved myself in the process. Does that make sense, Detective O’Reilly?”
“Yes, it does.” He glanced at Brinna, and she held his gaze, understanding more about Magda but still worried sick about her mother.
“I am ready to accept the consequences,” Magda continued. “Will I be charged with a crime?”
Jack shrugged. “That’ll all be up to the DA. He’ll consider everything—what you hid, how you helped—all of it. That you were afraid to say anything will also figure in.”
“That is what I have been telling her,” Anton said. “My wife has been in fear for her life for years.”
“I’m sorry I was so angry with you,” Brinna said. “It’s just that I—” Suddenly she couldn’t finish the sentence.
“I understand,” Magda said, eyes moist. “You fear for your mother as I feared for my family.”
Brinna nodded and tuned the rest of the conversation out, considering Magda’s reasons for deciding to be her sister’s keeper. She knew the story of Cain and Abel and had always considered it simply in the context of mankind’s first recorded murder. That it taught the broader implications Magda had voiced had never occurred to her.
My sister’s keeper. That phrase kept repeating in Brinna’s mind. As she thought about the story, she remembered the dodge Cain voiced when God fronted him off about where his brother, Abel, was. “Am I my brother’s keeper?”
It was a typical criminal maneuver, trying to deflect guilt. A kind of early-man “Hey, you talking to me?” evasion. Of course, it had been perfected over the centuries; Cain didn’t have anything on modern-day criminals.
That the story she’d always thought of as a folktale could be taken the way Magda took it surprised her. The discussions she’d had with her mother and Jack replayed in her mind. Evil, good, pain, death, God—the concepts she’d struggled with—seemed wrapped up in this simple story. Abel was good, Cain evil. Cain committed the most heinous crime when he murdered his brother. God knew, but he gave Cain the chance to confess. He gave Cain the chance for redemption, the opportunity for something good to come out of the evil and the pain. But Cain refused.
Am I like Cain? Brinna wondered. Jack and my mom keep saying that what God offers is free. Is he offering me something I should take that will save me?
She closed her eyes, thinking that her mom was in the hands of a Cain. What would this one choose?
* * *
A phone finally did ring, but it wasn’t Magda’s; it was Brinna’s. She grabbed it and walked into the hallway to answer. It was Maggie.
“What’s up?”
“Where are you now?” Maggie’s voice sounded strange, like she was whispering.
“At the station. Where are you?”
“I’m in College Park. I took Gracie home but not before I got the addr
ess of her neighbor—you know, the one who works at the collectible shop?”
“I remember her mentioning that neighbor.” Brinna perked up, wondering where Maggie was going with this. She hooked the free thumb of her casted arm in a belt loop and leaned against the hallway wall.
“I had to wait a bit for this Laura to come home, and I don’t want to go into it over the phone. Can you get over here?” Maggie rattled off an address.
“Maggie, this is crazy. I’m not sure I want to leave right now.”
“Come on, Brin, how many times have you talked me into crazy things with less information than I’ve just given you? Come here and—oh, stop and get Hero and a piece of your mom’s clothing.”
“Maggie, what are you saying?”
“If I’m on the right track, we’ll call Chuck. If I’m wrong . . . well, I might be in trouble, and I for sure will owe you big-time. But I think I’ve found your mom.”
62
WHEN BRINNA STEPPED back into the office, something was happening. Jack was involved in a serious conversation on the phone, and Anton and Magda were chattering in a foreign language. Welty was furiously pounding on the computer.
“What’s going on?”
“Magda remembered something,” Welty informed her. “Simon Greuv has a relative here. He owns a business in San Pedro. I’m trying to find an address, and Jack is on the phone with the Feds.”
Brinna’s throat felt tight as she considered her options: go chase down Maggie and her cryptic message, or stay here and follow this new promising lead. She decided quickly. She knew what Jack and Darryl were looking for. She needed to know what Maggie had found. She grabbed her fanny pack and leaned toward Welty.
“Darryl, I’m going home. I’m beat, and I’m no help here. But call me if you guys hear anything, okay?”
“Sure, you know we will.” He never looked up from the computer.
Brinna raced downstairs and out to the back steps before she remembered Jack had driven her here in his homicide vehicle. She checked her key chain. Luckily all the Chevys were keyed alike, and she had a Chevy key. As she started the car, she hoped Jack wouldn’t need it anytime soon.
College Park. Maggie had said she was in College Park. Why was she there? College Park was the name of a section of tract homes on the farthest east side of Long Beach, near the state college. Gracie didn’t live there—Brinna knew that from the interview. Laura was Gracie’s neighbor, so she didn’t live in College Park either. With every question she asked, another popped up, but there were no answers.
Once home, Brinna quickly leashed Hero and loaded him into her black-and-white Explorer, leaving Jack’s car parked on the street. There was no need to go to her mother’s house for a piece of clothing. Rose had wrapped herself in a fleece throw the last time she’d been at Brinna’s, and that would be enough scent for Hero. The night was dark and cloudy but dry, so if Hero was needed for a search, the weather wouldn’t be a problem.
She’d just pulled out of her driveway when her phone rang again. Checking the screen, she saw it was Maggie.
“I hope you have more to tell me,” she said when she opened the phone.
“Where are you?”
“Pulling away from my house. I’ll be in College Park in a minute.” She slowed, finding it awkward to hold the phone with her cast while she drove.
“Do you have Hero?”
“Yes,” Brinna snapped. “Mags, what the heck is going on?” She slammed on the brakes when she almost ran a stop sign.
“Meet me at the 7-Eleven at Studebaker and Anaheim, and I’ll tell you everything.” The line went dead.
* * *
Since they’d left the warehouse, Ivana had gone from fearful to hopeful and back again. Simon gave them no explanation as to why he wanted to leave the warehouse. He’d just rushed her and Mrs. Caruso out and into the car. They’d had to step over Gavin’s corpse. At first he’d planned to tie them up and force them into the trunk, but Mrs. Caruso talked him out of it, promising that she and Ivana would behave if they sat in the car. He drove around until it was dark and then brought them to this house.
When Mrs. Caruso asked him if the house was his, he said nothing. Once inside, he gave them street clothes to wear—again, there was no explanation for who the clothes belonged to. He would only say that he didn’t want them “running around in nightclothes.” Though the clothes were too large for her and Mrs. Caruso, they were a lot warmer than their thin nightgowns, and Ivana was happy to feel warmth return to her extremities. She found herself hoping, now that they were away from the warehouse, that Simon would relent and release them.
Then he turned on the television and saw a picture of himself on a wanted poster. Ivana was sure she and Mrs. Caruso were dead. Simon had smashed the television, then turned off all the lights and herded them into a back bedroom. He had his phone in one hand, the gun in his other. He’d forced them to the floor, where they were still seated, their backs to the wall, while he sat on the edge of the bed. He’d open his phone, close it, then repeat the process a few minutes later.
Mrs. Caruso tried to speak to him, but he’d ordered them both quiet. From time to time he’d curse in Bulgarian. Ivana could barely keep her eyes open, but every time she’d nod off, Simon would erupt in curses. He no longer held the gun in his hand, but Ivana knew that the dark lump on the bed next to him was the weapon, close enough to still be a threat.
“You’re exhausted,” Mrs. Caruso said and Ivana jumped. The room’s only illumination was the glow from a backyard light. It was impossible to see Simon’s features, but his head did turn in Mrs. Caruso’s direction.
“What do you care?” Simon’s voice was flat, hollow. He slid off the bed and sat on the floor, back against the bed.
“I care, whether you believe me or not. It’s clear that you’re lost, confused.” She leaned forward. “End this. No one else has to get hurt.”
Ivana held her breath. Her eyes went from Simon to the gun on the bed and back again. He made no move toward the gun.
“I’m a dead man walking; that’s what I am. The one friend I thought I had has betrayed me.” He emitted a mirthless chuckle. “Demitri will be back in two days. I either wait for him to kill me or let your police do it now.”
“American police won’t kill you. Can’t you believe that?” Mrs. Caruso pleaded. “If you let us go now, no one has to die.”
“Believe her, Simon, please.” For the first time in hours Ivana found her vocal cords. Her throat was dry, and her voice sounded rough. “I’ve met these American police. They were kind to me. They weren’t the demons Demitri told me they were.”
“You weren’t the one holding the gun.” With that he stood and picked up the gun. “Stand. We’re going for a ride.”
63
BRINNA SAW MAGGIE as soon as she pulled into the lot. She stood outside her car and jogged toward Brinna.
“I think I found your mother.”
The positive, confident declaration gave her a jolt. “You said that already.” Brinna threw her arms out. “What is going on?”
“It was Laura, the neighbor, who cleared everything up,” Maggie explained. “I went to talk to her, to ask her some simple questions. Turns out she saw who we think is Simon at the shop.”
“You think?” Brinna stood, arms akimbo.
“He was a scary guy, according to Laura. She heard him talk and could tell by his accent he was Bulgarian like Magda.” Maggie paused, and Brinna gestured for her to continue.
“Anyway, Laura had seen this guy someplace else before, but the day he visited Magda, she couldn’t remember where. When we were talking, Laura remembered that she’d been in College Park at a friend’s house when she saw him. He was at a house across the street. Brin, at her house, she had the news on the TV and the bulletin about Simon Greuv came on. Laura blurted out, ‘That’s him!’”
Brinna sucked in a breath and thought for a moment. “Why call me to come out here? This information should go to the Fed
s.” Even as she said the words, she knew what she was going to do.
“Laura is kind of an airhead,” Maggie continued. “I didn’t think at the time she was reliable, so I drove out here to look things over for myself. I found the house with no trouble. There are several cars parked in front. Face it, this is thin, but I thought if Hero walked by and gave a sniff or two, you’d know if your mom were there or not.”
“If there is a chance my mom is there, argh—Maggie, we can’t go off half-cocked like this.”
“Look who’s talking. The queen of going off half-cocked.” Maggie faced Brinna, an amused expression on her face. “Look, if we notify Chuck, ICE will mobilize, and that could take hours. If your mom is in that house, do you really want to wait hours? Plus, this is an off-the-wall hunch. If your mom isn’t in that house, do you want the federal resources tied up for hours chasing geese?”
Folding her arms, Brinna looked at Maggie, knowing that if the situation were different, if it were someone else’s mother, she would be making the same arguments. “What did you have in mind?”
“Like I said, stroll by with Hero. This Simon doesn’t know who you are. And with me and Hero, it will just look like we’re walking our dog.”
“A walk at midnight?”
“If the dog needs to go, he doesn’t look at the clock. If Hero hits on something, we call in the troops, okay?”
Brinna sighed and looked away from Maggie as she considered this. She looked back and said, “Maggie, what if we put my mom at risk?”
“All we’ll do is walk by. This is a low-key thing to do.”
Brinna tugged on her earlobe and paced, thinking. There was no one else around, though the lot was bright with light from the open convenience store. Her mother’s life was on the line.
Silently, before she answered Maggie, she prayed for her mother’s safety. I don’t know how to do this, Lord, but everyone says you hear and understand, so here goes. Please, please keep my mom safe. Briefly she felt better, stronger, and thought to herself, I’m finally getting the hang of this.
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