Trafficked: a novel

by Sophia Rey

  Mason didn’t call, but Detective Peters did. “I’d like you and your mother to come down and look at some more photos,” he said. “We’re attempting to link Mr. Sterling and Mr. Morris to a series of crimes that have been committed in the East Valley. Your possible identification of the subjects, in both still pictures and videos, will aid us in our investigation.”

  I didn’t know what help I would be, but I was happy for the diversion from my thoughts, trying to figure out what the investigation was about.

  CHAPTER 29

  ON NEW YEAR’S EVE I walked over to the police station with Mom, since it wasn’t far from our home. A female detective who introduced herself as “Detective Gonzales, call me Rosa” led me to a quiet area with a desk and a computer. “Now, the things you’re about to see may a bit sickening if you haven’t something like them before,” she cautioned as she clicked onto a web site called Just a Few Drinks.

  On the home screen was a picture of Grant and Mason, with about fifteen other guys, all shirtless and staring into the camera. They were all great looking and looked ready to have a good time. A caption above the picture read, Do you want a relationship without commitment? We’re a group of guys looking for girls who just want to go out for a drink…or two….or three. Nothing kinky or dangerous. We just want to have a good time. Click here to find out where we’ll be this week.

  The ad looked fairly innocent on the surface, but I was kind of surprised to see Mason out there cat fishing for another girlfriend. I knew I glanced at the officer with a look that demanded, “So?”

  “This ad itself is not the problem,” Rosa said. “The problem is what they do with it. There are really only two guys available to have a few drinks. Grant and Mason. The other guys are photoshopped in. From what we’ve learned about it from some of their victims, Grant and Mason look for underage girls to hook up with them. At first, they actually do hang out with them, showing them a good time, sparing no expense. They don’t seem to care what they how much money they throw around.” I could feel my cheeks growing a little red, hearing this. “Some of the girls are as young as 14, and they love the attention. These guys are looking for girls who are troubled or lonely; girls in some kind of a bad situation and desperate to get out.”

  I thought of Carol and Maurine.

  “The first thing they do is get the girls to open up about what they’ve gone through. After the girls bare their souls, they tell them some sob story about how they were abused or abandoned or whatever, making it sound like they have a lot in common with whoever they’re with. They say thing like, ‘I know. My father left home when I was just a kid, too.’ Or ‘It’s like we’re soul mates. We’re both survivors of abuse.’ Then, once they’ve established an emotional connection, they’ll offer the girl some kind of illegal drug, either meth or heroin, and tell them that it’ll take care of their problem, whatever it is. ‘It’s the best feeling I ever had,’ they tell them.”

  My eyes were starting to get wide, hearing all of this. I still couldn’t believe that Mason, my Mason, could do something like this!

  “They’re ready for any type of problem the girls have, but they seem to only one answer. ‘I know it’s hard, but I felt that way when my Dad left, too (or whatever problem they have). All I know is that if I didn’t take heroin, I don’t know how I would have survived. I think you should at least try it. Do it for me.’

  “Some of the girls resist, but it doesn’t matter. Once these girls have that emotional bond with this good looking, charming guy who’s telling them they’re beautiful and wonderful and this is the only way to fix their problem, it’s only a matter of time before they give in. If they don’t, these men act insulted that the girls won’t at least try the drug they’re offering, since they’re only trying to help.

  “Eventually, these girls do try it. Drugs are powerful; they do take away the pain for a moment – and the girls take as much as they want because the source of the drug is free at that moment. But after a week or so, the girls are addicted and asking for more and more. The guys tell them, ‘I think you better get off this stuff. You’re taking too much. It’s really not good for you’, as if they care about the girls. They know very well that all they can think of is getting another fix. They—”

  “How do you know all this?” Mom interrupted.

  “Because we have raided some of the places where the girls are being trafficked.”

  “Trafficked?” Mom questioned.

  “Yes. I’ll get to that in a moment. But as I was saying, after the girls are hooked and the guy says he’s cutting her off, he claims he can’t keep giving her free drugs forever. He tells her she better find a way to get some money and better find if soon. Often, he’ll tell her that since he’s been supporting her habit it’s time for her to pay him back.”

  “Well, Mason never gave me any drugs and I went out with him for a long time,” I said, feeling the need to defend him. Or me. I wasn’t quite sure who I was defending.

  Rosa gave me a compassionate smile. “He could have been leading a double life. I’ve studied serial killers who had a wife and kids, and a regular job during the day, but went out at night to hunt and kill people. Their wives just thought they were working overtime or playing baseball or something.”

  “No, no, no, no!” A deep voice from a nearby desk interrupted our conversation. It came from a 6’5” 20–something hot black detective who looked really annoyed with Rosa. “This dip is incapable of having a normal relationship. You know that.”

  “Please excuse Detective Isaaks.” Rosa looked content to add this new detective to the conversation. “Would you like to tell the ladies why Mason can’t have a normal relationship?” She flashed him a smile.

  “This guy is a moron,” was all Detective Isaaks would say.

  “Mason Morris dated Detective Isaak’s niece and let’s just say it didn’t go well,” Rosa told us.

  Detective Isaaks didn’t look amused. “Listen, I’ve looked into the backgrounds of these two scum bags and there’s nothing good about them. They just get them hooked and then get them hooking to pay the bills.” He was practically spitting, he was so angry.

  Detective Gonzales must have given him a look because he calmed his face down and stuck out his hand. “I’m sorry. The name’s Jamaal Isaaks. What did you say your name was?”

  I put my hand into his, feeling how large it was against my own. “Emily.”

  “Okay, Emily. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  Ask away! I thought. “That would be fine.”

  “How long did you have a relationship with Mason?” He pulled out a notebook from his chest pocket and licked his pencil, ready to write.

  “I met him a little over a year ago. We dated for awhile, but he isn’t very consistent. I haven’t seen him in weeks, and I’ve barely talked with him in months,” I stated repeating myself from the last interview.

  “What type of activities did you do?’

  “We went to concerts, movies, out to eat. I liked him because he was so low pressure and kind. Even though you say he did these things I don’t understand it. He was perfectly fine before he broke his legs in that car accident. But after his legs healed he kind of took off.”

  “A car accident?”

  “It happened last February. He broke both of his legs and he was going to a physical therapist for a while. I went to most of his appointments with him.”

  “Which physical therapist did he go to?”

  “The Joint Rehab Center.”

  “I know the place,” Detective Gonzales piped up. “How many times a week did he go?”

  “Three.” What does this have to do with anything? I thought.

  Detective Isaaks saw the confused look on my face. “Mason Morris has fallen off the grid and if there are places he visits regularly we can try to catch him there.”

  “He wasn’t going to be going much longer when I stopped having regular contact with him.” I tried to sound professional.

/>   “I had an aunt who broke her hip and she had to go to the physical therapist for months,” Rosa said. “Perhaps he had more appointments than he told you about. It’s worth a try to check it out.”

  ”Do you know of any of his other routine activities? Things he is almost religious about doing?” asked Detective Isaacs.

  I wish I did.

  “I’m sorry, but I didn’t realize we’d be so long.” Mom interrupted before my thought was spoken. “I need to get to the hospital for some tests my husband needs today. Can we be questioned later about Mason’s whereabouts?”

  “Certainly, ma’am.” I could almost picture Detective Isaaks reaching up to grab the front brim of a cowboy hat when he said that. “Can we schedule a time for you and your daughter to come back?”

  Try and stop me from coming in! I screamed inside.

  We scheduled an appointment for the next Wednesday and I went out of the office feeling somewhat better. Better than I had in a long time. I was going to do something to help the police department…and I got to meet with the hot Detective Isaacs again. What could be better?

  CHAPTER 30

  THAT NIGHT I WAS watching TV with Mom when her phone rang. The voice on the other end was so loud that I could hear the entire conversation as though they were in the room. “May I please speak with Mrs. Fletcher?”

  “This is she,” Mom answered, her voice tinged with hope. She always sounded hopeful when the hospital called.

  “Mrs. Fletcher, this is Dr. Sorenson from Mercy Medical Center. I’m calling because we’re concerned about your husband’s progress.”

  Mom seemed to deflate. “I thought he was doing better.”

  “Yes. Yes. That seemed to be the case a week ago, but now his eye movements aren’t as frequent. We’re afraid he’s slipping into a deeper coma and we’re concerned as to his timely recovery. And as long as I have you, I can’t find the paperwork for a Do Not Resuscitate form. Have you signed a DNR?”

  “Sign a DNR?” Mom was livid. “What do you mean? A week ago he was doing better and now you want me to sign a DNR? This is an outrage! Let me speak to your supervisor.”

  She put the phone on mute and turned to me. “I can’t believe they’re making me deal with this over the phone. I’m there every day. Why can’t they speak to me in person?”

  Another, quieter doctor got on the phone then and she turned her attention to it. After a moment, I heard her say, “Mmmm hmmm. Mmmm-hmmm. Another MRI and he’s still not responding to light and sound?” Pause. “Another week? Yes. Of course. I don’t care about the cost…No…We’ll handle it. Yes. Okay. And Doctor? I have a favor to ask. I would really appreciate it if you could talk to me about these important matters in person. Yes…yes…That would be fine.” Another long pause. “Are you sure? A DNR is just a standard procedure thing? That makes me feel a lot better. Thank you, Doctor.” She looked relieved.

  When she hung up the phone a moment later, I couldn’t wait to ask, “Is Dad dying?”

  She sat next to me and put her arm around me before answering, “Doctors aren’t always right. I’m always hearing about someone who had cancer and was told they were going to die, then their tumor just disappeared. You know Dad. He’s stubborn.”

  “He gets that from me,” I smiled a thin smile. Another concern crossed my mind. “What about the medical bills?”

  “Even though Dad didn’t like Gardens very much, they do have great health insurance,” Mom’s voice was soft. “And you know what? Some of his co–workers have even given up their sick days for Dad. That means he gets paid for a lot of the days he’s been away from work.” Her words were comforting and encouraging, but deep down I knew she was trying to put on a good face for me.

  ************

  On Friday Mom asked me if I could go to the hospital and visit Dad because she had to attend a pre–semester teachers’ meeting at her school and stay late. She told me to take Kai with me so he could visit Dad. I think she was trying to lessen Kai’s association with what she called Maurine’s “punky” ways.

  I could see what she meant. There were times that Maurine could be super sweet and cute, but sometimes she was really hard to be around. Maurine complained about Mom’s cooking, whether it was homemade or something fast and “fun” like pizza or chicken nuggets. She complained about doing chores. She would grumble, “Mama Laura didn’t make me work! And I didn’t have to do chores at my mom’s when I had school to do. Mom says school is more important than chores.”

  I’m sure she did, I thought, remembering what a pigsty her house was.

  Mom tried to be patient. She would gently tell her, “Sweetie, all I ask you to do is a 15 minute chore a day. That way we can all live in a nice clean home.” Sometimes this would work, but many times Maurine would just leave her work undone and then Mom would have one of us do it. Maurine just sat on the couch and watched everyone else do their chores. When we brought in the grocery bags she was the first one to go through them, taking any snacks she could find for herself. I got in the habit of hiding some of them in the car so the rest of us would get something.

  The worst thing she would do, though, is that when Mom was gone she would get on her computer and go on sites that Mom said were off limits. Mom caught her one day and told her that she wasn’t allowed on the computer at all.

  Of course Maurine had a fit. “I have to use the computer for my homework,” she whined. “You are so unfair!”

  Carol tried to calm her. “We’re living here for free Maurine. Please stop making trouble,” she pleaded.

  But Maurine was relentless. “All of my friends have computers,” she complained.

  “Lots of kids use the library computers and the school library is open during study hour,” Mom countered.

  “I can’t get on any good sites. Mama Laura….” Maurine trailed off. She realized, mid–sentence, that Mom wouldn’t be sympathetic about her not being able to get on every site.

  Mom took a deep breath. “Look Maurine,” she said, her voice deliberately calm. “I wish I could afford to buy each of you a computer, but I just can’t. Even if I did, there would be rules. You wouldn’t be able to do whatever you wanted. Em doesn’t even have a computer and she’s almost in college.”

  Maurine stomped off.

  Carol looked annoyed. Kai looked shocked.

  CHAPTER 31

  DAD HAD BEEN MOVED to Desert Mirage Hospital, where they had the best Brain Trauma Unit in the state. “Em,” Mom said gravely, when she asked me to take Kai to see Dad, “I’m a bit concerned about you driving that far. It’s 40 miles away.” She thought for a second. “But it is right off the 17. You can see it from the freeway, that’s how big it is. Do you really think you can handle it?”

  Mom didn’t know about my love of driving. “Yes, I can handle it.” I don’t know why, but I felt a bit better knowing Kai was coming along.

  “Call if you need me.” She gave my cheek a kiss and ran out the door to work. I was glad she had such confidence in me.

  Kai and I left for our little trip right after Carol got home from working the lunch shift. Though the hospital was a ways away it was easy to find. Dad and I had a good conversation, slow and deliberate through the use of his keyboard and his eye blinks. He said that he liked the new hospital and that he was gaining the use of his right leg.

  “Look.” He demonstrated his ability to lift his leg about six inches.

  “Great!” I smiled.

  Kai clapped his approval.

  I have to admit I enjoyed my visits with Dad, not only because I got to see him, but because it got me out of my usual routine and setting. I also like the thought that I might be helping Dad with his recovery.

  Desert Mirage Hospital was even better than the one in Mesquite because it had these big lazy–boy–type chairs in each room that you could lay way back in. If I wanted to doze off for a few minutes I could do just that.

  When we’d been there about a half–hour Dad fell asleep. I did some of my home
work, then I asked Kai if it would be okay if I took a little nap in the chair. There was really no need to ask. Desert Mirage had cable, which we didn’t have at home, so Kai was in kid heaven, switching stations like a little wild creature.

  I dozed off. It was so comfortable there. I slept and slept. Dad couldn’t wake me up, of course, and Kai was entranced in his shows. Finally I twitched awake and realized that I’d slept for two hours! Going to work and keeping up with Maurine and Kai must have taken its toll on me. I was hungry and thirsty. And the nap made me more tired instead of less. I told Dad goodbye, and asked Kai as we got in the car to call Mom and tell her that we were going to be later than I had expected.

  “Mom, Em wanted me to call you and tell you that she fell asleep at the hospital and now we’re going to be late and did you know they have cable TV at the hospital?” I heard him say from the back seat.

  I could hear Mom chuckle. “Is that so? Well get home soon. We’re having tacos. We’ll leave some for you.”

  “Don’t let Maurine eat all of ‘em!” he begged. Tacos were one of the few foods Maurine consistently liked.

  On the way out of the long winding road to the hospital Kai spotted a Dairy Queen sign that was on a pole about 100 feet high only about a mile from the hospital.

  “DQ!” he shouted.

  “DQ! That sounds great!” Mom had given me some money for dinner, but I was too busy sleeping to use it.

  I drove over to the place but it was closed. Now we were even hungrier.

  Across the street from the closed Dairy Queen was a little place called Earl’s Drinks and Food.

  I was not in the mood to drive around. “Earl’s it is!” I announced as I drove over. The restaurant was about 200 yards off the road. In the middle of the parking lot was a big sink hole about 10 feet in diameter. I kept my distance from it and parked next to the building.