“Okay.”
“Were you absolutely certain you were being followed or that the thing with your cat wasn’t just some random act of violence? Were you convinced someone was out to scare you off the story or, worse, silence you permanently?”
It was an easy answer. “Yes, Jason, I was. The letters and the phone calls I got at the paper. And I still am, now because of Carmen. There are too many women missing.”
“It has to be someone you exposed or partially exposed in your articles. As long as you can still hurt them, you’re in danger. If it ever was real, it still is real. Understand?”
“Yes, I do.” She was completely deflated.
“When you set up your new voicemail on the new number, don’t use your voice for the message. You have to be careful, Kiley. You know this. Let’s be smart.”
These were going to be the longest two weeks of her life. Things were spinning out of control, just like Jason said. Just when she thought she had a plan, the goalposts changed the game. He was right. Maybe she shouldn’t have assumed her plan would work. She started to doubt herself and feel the burden of what she was putting others through.
Aimee opened the slider, poking her head out. “Everything okay?”
Kiley had been staring off to the horizon. She wanted to go home, have a couple glasses of wine in the bathtub, and go to bed early. But there was a job that needed to be done.
Aimee sat down on a wicker chair next to her, propping her feet up on the crosspiece in the railing. The sun was just setting.
“I thought when I was living in Oregon, with all that rain, that perhaps I’d embellished the golden sunset a bit. I figured it couldn’t possibly be as bright and beautiful as I remembered as a child. But I was wrong. It’s even more stunning than my memories and the colors are even brighter.”
“I know. Once you get some of that gulf sun in your hair, on your skin, in your eyes, I think it travels to your soul. You take a little piece of it with you forever. Almost haunts you, doesn’t it?” Aimee answered.
She remained quiet until Kiley developed the thoughts and words she wanted to use.
“That was Jason.”
“I figured as much.”
They were joined by Martel, who announced, “I think we need some wine right about now.”
Aimee called after her, “Tell Andy to hold off on dinner a bit. But we’ll be down shortly.”
“Sure thing.” Martel closed the glass behind her and the two women were alone again.
“Is it good news or…?”
“What I came over here for was to tell you guys I decided to go back to Portland. I’ll explain more when Andy’s here, because Jason actually told me to make sure I included him.”
“You figure it’s safer now?”
“Actually, it’s not. But I just promised I wouldn’t fly back there until Jason could go with me.”
“Makes sense.”
Martel was back with a bottle of red wine and three glasses. “Your man is not a happy camper and he said if we weren’t down there in thirty minutes, he’d eat by himself and we could go out for a burger.”
“Oh, Lord.” Aimee shook her head. “He’s a creature of habit. Likes everything spelled out. He has rules for everything. Stews about most things and stubborn as they come.”
“Oh, that’s Damon to a T,” said Martel as she poured their glasses. “To the magic of Sunset Beach!” They touched glasses after repeating the toast.
“Mmm. That’s good,” said Kiley. “I could use a little magic right now.”
“So you were telling us you wanted to go back to Portland?”
“I called the reporter who was doing work for a followup article, working with my editor, and now she’s gone missing. We have officially four missing girls, and now this reporter. But I’ve uncovered evidence there are many more. Maybe as many as ten.”
“A serial killer?” Martel asked.
“No, it’s a human trafficking ring. Very organized, in fact, probably professionally managed, and it has important ties to local government. The piece was to hit the paper on Friday, but my editor printed it early. He felt pressure and was afraid he’d be asked to bury the story. But that put Carmen, the staffer we added to the team, in danger, I think. I was having her follow up on some of the interviews I’d done, to see if we could get some quotes and perhaps their cooperation. It’s one thing to talk to a reporter anonymously. Quite another to get involved in a corruption scandal. That’s where this is all headed.”
“Just what did you expect to achieve going back? Didn’t you say you lost your cat, and they vandalized your car?”
“Yes. I think those were attempts to warn me. I thought maybe the article would take some of the pressure off, but it looks like Carman may have walked right into it. I’m worried. I wanted to go do some digging in person, see if I could help find her. I know right where to go too.”
Martel was puzzled. “I’m not understanding this, Kiley. Like you told us at the bonfire, once everything came out in the paper, wouldn’t that begin to shed light on what was going on? You were thinking the public would demand that investigation.”
“I did. And I think that will happen. But I can’t just sit here while I’ve put Carmen in danger.”
“Perhaps,” Aimee said, her finger pointing to the sky. “You don’t know for sure you did.”
“Well, yes. I thought we had a couple of days to do a little more research before the final piece was published. And then we could turn over the complete package to the authorities. Now that won’t happen. If something’s happened to Carmen, it will be my fault.”
“Man, you’re awfully hard on yourself,” said Aimee. “I thought your editor was the one who made the assignments.”
“I overruled him. I made him take Carmen. She didn’t want it, either. But I got her involved because I thought she’d do a better job interviewing some of the victims I’d located.”
“Wait a minute. You found some of the missing girls?”
“I found other girls. Not the missing ones. But I think some of them knew the missing ones.”
“How many girls are we talking about, Kiley?” asked Martel.
“I’ve got tapes on six. Some written material from three more. With very little verification, I could make a case for at least ten girls who have disappeared that we know of. If this criminal enterprise has been operating for many years, then there could be many more. Hundreds, perhaps.”
Kiley noted Aimee’s pensive stare at the ball of light now melting into the horizon. Within seconds gray streaks formed, the orange and golden yellow clouds were outlined in light purple, and then everything began to fade, going purple and deeper gray. The water on the gulf went from bright azure blue to navy within ten minutes. The pilgrimage to the surf was over and now was reversing, as people made their way back to their homes or cars parked nearby.
The magic was dissipating, and Kiley actually felt sad.
Aimee continued staring at the water as she whispered, “Do you think we’re in danger here?”
Before she could answer, Andy slid the glass door wide and jolted them all. “Hey! I got beautiful steaks downstairs, corn on the cob and a killer salad. I’d like some company for all my troubles.”
After dinner, Aimee began clearing plates. Kiley rose to help her.
“No, you stay put and tell Andy what you started to tell us upstairs. I’ve got this.”
“Thanks, babe,” Andy winked.
Martel opened and then began to pour their second bottle of wine of the evening.
“So, Andy, I talked to Jason earlier and he asked that I explain the pickle I’m in. He said you’d have some good advice.”
“Okay, shoot,” said Andy.
“Darn, I didn’t bring my computer. I shouldn’t have left it at the house, either. That was totally dumb of me.”
“I’ve got a laptop. Can you log in on mine?”
“I can try.”
“No, Andy, you have all that encrypte
d stuff. You don’t want to mix this stuff with your SEAL things.” Aimee pointed to the ceiling. “Martel, go get my laptop on the side table upstairs on my side of the bed.”
Martel took the stairs two at a time, her long graceful legs digging into the polished wood with her toes. She returned not more than a couple of minutes later.
Aimee dried her hands and opened the computer to a guest icon. “Here you go. Log in with Safari, or do you use Chrome?”
“Chrome.”
“There. Now put your passwords in and we’ll delete everything when you’re done.”
Kiley found her portal at the paper and called up the four articles on human trafficking, dragging them to the four corners of the screen so Andy could read them all. She proofread her last article and was mortified to find a couple of typos.
Andy was able to read and summarize at the same time. “So you were looking into the case of an immigrant girl from Central America smuggled across the border by Coyotes. She traveled with a group of three other young girls, all ranging in ages from ten to fourteen.”
Andy read further. “You found they came from the same village, and—their parents wanted them to have a better life in the United States. So, they allowed the four friends to come to the U.S. to work as domestics.”
He sat up, frowning. “That’s a little young, isn’t it? Ten?”
“I was able to contact their parish priest, an American who had been in the Peace Corps and stayed to continue his work there. He said the girls in that village often married before they were fifteen. He told me a man and woman, recruiters, came into the village and looked for girls they could find from poor families, where the parents would appreciate not having to feed one more mouth. And they were compensated.” Kiley watched as this sunk into her friend’s faces.
“They sold their own children?” Aimee said, covering her mouth.
“Yup.”
“Isn’t that against the law?” asked Martel.
“It is,” started Andy. “But you wouldn’t believe the plight of children all over the world, Martel. It’s not a safe place for a child. They are bartered for pennies in many areas of Africa, the Orient, even South America. There are groomers too. People who train them for the slavery they’ll be doomed for. Mostly the sex trade. And they get them hooked on drugs, so they won’t go far. If they don’t know the language and have no papers, once they get to their destination, they owe their entire existence to the people who brought them over. And many don’t survive the trip, sadly.”
“That’s what Jason said. You guys were finding these people in Africa. Is that why he’s gone, to look for smugglers?”
“Last two trips have been all about the smugglers. Very dangerous people, Kiley. When you were here, I thought you were talking about some guys who liked to get their jollies having sex with young girls and were kidnapping girls for that purpose. But you’re talking about a whole organization. Is that right?”
“I’m afraid so, Andy. If you read on, you can see that there are a number of shelters in the Portland area, funded by some church groups and private businesses, formed to help stem the homeless growth in the area. Originally, they were for unwed mothers, runaways, and girls leaving abusive homes. These houses took care of them until they could successfully get a job and be on their own.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” whispered Martel.
“The city began to give tax breaks to organizations who ran these. And my guess is that the introduction of the money, brought the crime. All the houses were full all the time, more shelters were needed, and the program expanded. This happened under the radar until people started noticing the girls didn’t stay in the area but were shipped all over the United States.”
Kiley waited while Andy read on, Aimee looking over his shoulder.
“You did a good job documenting everything, Kiley,” Aimee told her.
“I didn’t give names. Those I kept confidential, but I have all of them in my files. I interviewed a couple of social workers from Texas who came out to Portland to check on two girls who came through their area and were transferred to one of the shelters. They were unable to locate their girls. I have their pictures. Both of them were twelve, best friends. And it happened the same way. They told us that they came from the same village, and immigration picked them up abandoned by their Coyote in the middle of the desert. They had the address of one shelter with them as their final destination.”
“Wow, so someone in Mexico or Central America knew about the place in Portland,” said Martel.
“I think so. When the social workers inquired, the house was registered with the State of Oregon under a special license. They were told there were regular inspections, medical and dental services provided, as well as English instruction and skills training. But when they came to check, there wasn’t any record of the girls ever having gone through the system.”
“How did you get their information, Kiley?” asked Andy.
“They saw my first article in the paper and called me. That led to an interview with the head administrator at the place. I talked to several girls who lived there. It was orderly, clean, just how the social workers had found it earlier in the year. But no one ever remembered seeing the two girls from Guatemala. It was like they disappeared into thin air.”
“So you know who’s doing this?” asked Andy.
“It goes all the way to the mayor’s office. Someone in that office, maybe the mayor himself is either running it, or just making sure it continues to operate. But that’s what I put in my article that came out yesterday.”
“Way to make friends in high places,” Andy whispered. “So you left before this fourth article came out?”
“Yes. I listed the names of the ten girls I knew had been at one of the houses, even recently. And I mentioned the mayor’s office. That came out yesterday. I had Carmen following up with another reported missing girl, a domestic helper, and she was reported missing by the wife of a very prominent attorney. An immigration attorney. I checked my records and his name was listed as one of the owners.”
“That’s an awful lot of coincidences,” said Martel.
“My research found that the numbers were increasing, too.”
“I agree with Jason. You shouldn’t be poking around Portland on your own. I’m off to Team 4 in a couple of weeks. I think you should continue to lie low in Florida. But maybe you should move in with us and let the house go, Kiley.”
“I live alone now that Damon’s gone,” said Martel. “I don’t mind the company.”
“And there’s a couple other things, too, Kiley. We got two guys on the team with Jason who are married to girls from Portland and their families still live there,” said Andy.
Kiley was beginning to spring hopeful.
“I’m going to read all this. Why don’t you stay the night here, and in the morning, I’ll try to put in a call to Kyle and Jason. No promises. But maybe we can plan something out.”
“I want to go back to my own bed, Andy. And my computer and other things are there. I shouldn’t have left them alone.”
Andy stood up. “That settles it. I’m walking you back to your place then. From what you’ve told us, we can’t be too cautious.”
Chapter 13
The picture in the newspaper didn’t at all resemble the woman they brought into Natalia’s shelter yesterday. Battered about the head with one eye swollen shut and a cut lip, this woman was nearly unconscious, which might have been a blessing. Natalia requested she be seen at an emergency room, but was flatly overruled. Dr. Nash was going to stop by this afternoon sometime, and he was late.
Natalia helped the woman out of her bloody clothes and into her own personal shower because she had installed grab bars. She was no problem to help, since she was very slight, tiny, like a child, almost like all the other ones she’d tended to before. Except this woman, unlike the others, had an education and a job at the same newspaper that published her smiling face. And she wasn’t youn
g. It concerned her that there might be a husband or family missing her. Natalia didn’t like changes in the routine, because that made her have to think too much.
She laid a clean nightie and a pair of fuzzy socks on the closed toilet lid, with a dark green towel. She knew the drill. Everything the woman touched, even the sheets she slept on, would be burned in the incinerator at the back of the building after she was gone.
She was well paid to not take chances, to clean up the messes and ask no questions. It was the price of what little freedom and autonomy she had. It allowed her to save money, buy things for herself, go to the store to purchase food and pretty clothes, and have the big bedroom with the view of the river. But caring for these orphan women was getting old and Natalia was growing weary of it. Especially with this one so badly beaten up. Natalia wondered if this signaled a change in where they got the girls.
But something else was different about this woman. She spoke English. None of the others she’d tended to had. They came from all over the world, walking into her shelter frightened preteens and walking out into their new lives—lives they’d never dreamed of before—happy. At least, that’s what she told herself.
As she checked on the sleeping form of the reporter, she feared the woman’s fate might be dangling in Natalia’s hands. This woman had been beaten, unlike the others. And that also made her think. She didn’t like thinking.
She’d gone to church in Ukraine with her grandmother when she was little. Her babushka taught her how to cross herself, which she now did, reciting the prayer she’d learned. It was one of the only things she remembered about her religion, about her family, about the country she would never see again after she was taken.
From the living room, Natalia heard her two yellow canaries singing in the morning sun. They’d both had a bath and had fresh paper and food in their cages. She sat at the kitchen table, drinking her now-cold tea, and looked down at the newspaper with the smiling picture of the woman whose name was Carmen.
Escape To Sunset: One Night Stand Romance-Hiding From The Mob (Sunset SEALs Book 4) Page 12