by Ellen Butler
“And that didn’t send up any alarm bells for Ahmed?” I asked, astonished. “Didn’t he run a background check on his new tenants?”
“Apparently not.” Perez shrugged. “It’s lucky Sadira had been there; or your sister might not have been found.”
He was right, we had to give Sadira credit, but no one seemed to want to speak the words out loud, least of all me. Instead, I changed topics. “Can you offer Trudea’s mom citizenship in exchange for her testimony?”
Perez grinned and held up the cup he hadn’t drunk from. “Why do you think I brought her some hot chocolate? To celebrate. FBI cleared a package for her testimony with the A.G.’s office. Immunity, citizenship for her mom, and WITSEC.”
“Has someone told her mom? Is she coming?” Jin asked, shifting my weight.
I’d begun to hang on him as we stood around talking, so I straightened, putting more weight on the injured knee.
Perez flashed a smile that softened those hard cop features. “Garcia is bringing her over now.”
I shifted again, trying to find a more comfortable position to stand. “What are you doing with Sadira? Did you get more out of her? By now she should be cleared of the diamond theft. Did you have enough to keep her?”
“We did. Her other lawyer showed up and played a bit of hard ball, but an anonymous tip came in that Sadira had a safe in her closet. Behind a shoe rack. It held a bundle of money and jewelry. Interestingly, the safe was open.” He directed an inquiring look around our half-circle.
I knew the tip off didn’t come from me. And I remembered locking that safe back up. Either Rick picked it again after I exited the closet, or he sent one of his guys to do it. I flashed a glance over to Rick, who stood stoically aloof, with a hand in his pocket while sunglasses covered his eyes, sipping coffee. The man was a vault. Nothing indicated he’d made the call or reopened the safe.
Either oblivious of the look I’d just shot Rick or choosing to ignore it, Perez continued, “We made an offer to Sadira, and she took it.”
“Will she serve time?” Rick asked casually, tossing his empty coffee cup past Perez toward a trash bin about ten feet away. Of course, it arched beautifully and dropped straight in.
“Twelve months. She’ll be kept at a black site under twenty-four-hour guard. After she testifies and serves her sentence, WITSEC will put her in a new life.”
I thought she’d gotten off lightly, but didn’t comment.
“How did she get drawn into this mess to begin with?” Josh asked.
“A kid from her past, Marshall Ellison. We picked him up last night at his apartment. She knew him in juvie. He goes by a couple of different names. Lately, Trevor.”
I whistled. “Blond hair that needs a cut, kind of lanky with bedroom eyes? Dull as a butter knife? About twenty?”
“That’s him. He’s actually twenty-five. And he’s not as dumb as he portrays. His job is to find the girls. Ones with low self-esteem, usually poor, often living with only one parent. He befriends them, finds their weaknesses. Makes them feel special. May start a sexual relationship or introduce another ‘friend’ to start up a sexual relationship with the mark. He’ll usually introduce drugs, if the girls aren’t already taking them. It’s a long process working them into the fold. Traffickers will often entice the girls to do things they wouldn’t normally do. Trevor uses a scheme by telling the girls he’s got connections in Hollywood and he can set up a meeting with a talent scout, usually it’s acting, or modeling.”
When he mentioned the modeling, I got woozy and leaned harder against Jin. He spread his legs further apart to take my weight.
Perez must not have noticed my consternation because he tsked and plowed on, “Their lives aren’t the best, and they always think they can be the next ‘it girl’ and get out of the poverty they live in.”
I thought of Jillian at that age doing her high school plays; she wanted to be the next Reese Witherspoon. “It’s not just their living situation, it’s also the age,” I mused. “Girls are so self-conscious at that time in their lives. They want to be admired. Hollywood is glamourized on TV, magazines, and even social media.”
The men around me nodded in agreement.
“True. Ellison preys on whatever ‘dream’ they’ve confessed to him,” Perez explained. “This is how she’s introduced into the sexual part of things—convincing her it’ll get her out of the dump she lives in. If they start to refuse, by now Ellison’s found the girl’s weak spot, and he’ll push that button. Often that’s when the gang members are brought in to scare the girls into cooperating and keeping their mouth shut. Your friend Sadira was a part of the introduction to the high life. She’s attractive, drives a high-end vehicle, she looks safe. She’d pick up the girls from Trevor and drive them to the ‘talent scout.’”
“Is that why she changed her name?” I asked.
He shook his head. “We think she changed her name to get away from her life back in Oklahoma. Ellison ran into her one day when she was eyeing a pair of Prada shoes she couldn’t afford on her teacher’s salary. He bought them for her. Then bought more designer clothes and bags for her.”
“Sadira does like her designer fashion,” I drawled with antipathy.
“He started small, with seemingly benign packages for her to courier. She got hooked on the easy money. When she started to transport girls, she initially didn’t know what was going on. It was about that time Ellison paid off her college loans and she was able to buy the condo. As she got further into it, she began to realize something wasn’t right about driving the girls. She says she tried to get out, but the gang knew her. . . .”
“And they’re like the mafia, you don’t just walk away,” Rick supplied.
“No,” Perez said with a scowl, “you don’t.”
Conversation stalled as we digested the detective’s information and he digested more of his coffee.
“So MS-13 had their hooks in her.” Rick removed his glasses and squinted thoughtfully. “How did she keep them from turning her into something more? One of their prostitutes?”
“She drew a line in the sand. She told Ellison in no uncertain terms that there was a safety deposit box. A lawyer somewhere in the city has the key. If she doesn’t check in with him on a regular basis, or if she contacts him and uses a certain phrase, he opens the box and sends the envelopes to the police, FBI, DEA, and the press.”
Rick whistled through his teeth. “Did she really do it?”
“She says so.” Perez shrugged. “We get the key once she’s relocated to the place where she’ll serve time under house arrest.”
“Damn, that chick outsmarted a vicious gang. She’s hardcore,” Josh commented.
“Oh, there’s nothing dumb about Sadira. Shrewd, I think, is the word that best describes her,” I commented.
“You’re not kidding,” Perez agreed. “Well, this hot chocolate is getting cold, and Garcia should be here any minute with Trudea’s mother. I’d better head back to her.”
“Take care, detective.” I gave a finger wave as he walked off. While we’d been standing, my knee’s dull ache had turned into a throbbing pain. “Okay, Joshua is right. I need to go to the ER.”
Rick took my other arm, and between the two men, I was able to hobble onto the elevator, but, as we turned, a pain shot down my leg. I couldn’t suppress a groan. Rick lifted me up into his arms as if I weighed no more than a sack of flour.
“This really isn’t necessary, is it?” I groused.
He stared straight ahead, watching the numbers count down to the first floor. “If you prefer, I can throw you over Joshua’s shoulder and he can carry you fireman style?”
Josh turned and delivered a wicked grin.
“Never mind.” I put an arm around Rick’s shoulders. “It’s all good.”
Josh’s grin disappeared and Jin adjusted his hat.
“What do you think it is?” I asked Josh.
“Torn meniscus,” he replied.
“Is that bad? Will I
have to have surgery? And why didn’t it hurt like this last night?”
“Oh, now you’re full of questions,” he replied wryly.
I reached out to slug him in the shoulder. Only he was standing at an odd angle, and I barely connected.
“Weak, Karina, weak.” He shook his head sadly.
I tried again, he stepped aside, and I almost fell out of Rick’s arms. “Damnit, Josh. Don’t egg her on,” he grunted, struggling to rebalance me.
“Children, children.” Jin shook his head at us like a disapproving father. “Joshua, you should tell her what you know. It is unkind to keep it from her.”
Josh gave in. “Depends on how badly you’ve torn it. It may not need surgery. The doc will probably need an MRI to determine a diagnosis.”
“Great.”
The elevator bell dinged. My entourage and I traipsed halfway across kingdom come to get to the ER.
Mike found me in a treatment room an hour later and my entourage reduced to one. Josh abandoned me first when he left to take a date to a National’s baseball game. Rick got a call from the office and left to put out some sort of fire with an angry client. Jin had kindly remained behind, although I’d almost wished he’d gone with Rick. Jin held my full respect, and I appreciated working with him in self-defense class and on a case. However, I found that when we weren’t working, it was very hard to make small talk. Twice I told him to go, not to worry about me, and enjoy his day off. Twice he refused, as if some sort of obligation required him to remain by my side. Our conversation was stunted, with long pauses in between my questions and Jin’s brief answers. Jin seemed oblivious to the awkward silences.
I was so grateful to see Mike, if I could have, I would have launched myself off the table when he arrived.
Instead, he came to me, hugged and kissed the top of my head. “Now what have you done to yourself, K.C.? I swear I can’t leave you alone for a minute,” he teased. “Jin, it’s good to see you. Keeping an eye on her for me?”
“Making sure she doesn’t leave before the doctor finishes,” Jin deadpanned.
“Is that why you wouldn’t leave?” I cried.
He nodded in confirmation. “Rick also told me to stay.”
“Oh, for the love of Pete.”
Mike grinned. “Probably a good idea. I’ll take over guard duty now if you’d like to go.”
“Be off with you.” I shooed Jin away. “It’s a gorgeous day out. The weather is supposed to be in the upper seventies. Go jogging . . . or whatever you do on a day like this.”
Jin shot me one of his rare smiles. “Cycling. Take care, Cardinal.”
“You too, Jin. And—thanks for—well, everything. You know . . .”
He delivered a two-fingered salute on his way out.
“Now, where were we?” Mike asked.
“You were about to give me a kiss. A real one.” Mike leaned in and gave me a kiss that made my toes curl. It also had the effect of making me forget about the throbbing pain in my knee for a few moments. “Wow, that was a good one.”
“I missed you.”
“Me too.” I stared into his handsome face and my stomach fluttered. “I’m glad you’re back. I’m assuming you picked up Mom. Everything okay?”
“Yes, I left your mom fussing at Jillian after she told me where I could find you. So, what’s the story? When did you hurt your knee?”
I explained my over-the-shoulder toss, and how I tore the meniscus (Josh was right) doing that little move. “The doc says I don’t need surgery, but I’ll need to rest, ice, and elevate it. I’m waiting for someone to return to outfit me with some sort of brace. The doctor wants me to follow up with an orthopedist next week. If I’m a good little girl, it should heal properly, although there might be some physical therapy involved.”
“Good times.” Mike pinched my chin. “I can’t leave you alone for a second, can I? Between you and your sister, you’ve got disaster written all over.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m surprised you’re not yelling and pacing in front of me with your mean face.”
He sighed heavily and pulled me close. “Right now, I’m just glad that you and your sister are going to be all right.”
I laid my head against his chest and listened to his steady heartbeat.
“Where is your mom staying?”
I pulled back to answer, “With Jillian. Mom can fuss to her heart’s content over my sister. And if you ever want sex again,” I said, pointing a finger at Mike’s grinning face, “you will not disclose to my mother how bad the knee is. We are downplaying. It’s sprained, and I must wear a brace for a few weeks. That’s it. Period. You got me?”
“So, I shouldn’t have mentioned that a gang member put a hit out on you yesterday?”
I sucked wind so hard it turned into a coughing fit. “You didn’t,” I choked out.
Mike rubbed my back. “Calm yourself. I didn’t tell her. I’m not a fool.”
“Why does everyone like to yank my chain?” I wiped the tears out of my eyes.
“Because it’s easy to rile you up and fun to watch you spin your wheels.”
“Ha-ha.”
A nurse walked in carrying a black knee brace with Velcro straps.
After they released me, Mike and I headed back up to Jillian’s room. I have to admit, the new brace provided excellent support and made walking easier. It was also ugly as sin, and my mind was sorting through work outfits, trying to determine which ones would fit comfortably over the brace and still hide it.
I forgot everything when my mom wrapped me in her loving embrace. The sweet scent of her perfume enveloped me. Even as an adult, occasionally we need the love and security of mom. It brightened my outlook, like the rising morning sun over the Potomac, knowing she was here now. It meant that everything was going to be okay.
The End
Afterword
One of the most asked questions I receive from readers and interviewers is: where do you get your inspiration? For each Karina Cardinal novel, inspiration came from different avenues. In Isabella’s Painting, catching the last fifteen minutes of a documentary about the 1990 Gardner Museum heist provided the seed which grew into an international bestseller. In Fatal Legislation, a recall ad for pacemakers provided the kernel of creativity. For Diamonds & Deception, it was the underbelly of the human trafficking storyline that came to me initially, not the diamond theft. During a Back-to-School event at my son’s high school, I learned from the health teacher that the students would be discussing human trafficking in their ninth-grade year. One of the issues they would discuss—safety at a local mall where human trafficking, unbeknownst to me, apparently runs rampant.
Days later, I ran across an article about the Just Ask Prevention Project, an initiative in Northern Virginia. The mission of the project is to educate and mobilize communities to end human trafficking. What I read, when I visited their website, surprised me. Like many folks, I’ve seen the Taken movies with Liam Neeson, where a young girl is abducted in a foreign country and auctioned off to the highest bidder. The reality can be very different. Not all girls are abducted and trafficked outside of their hometown. Girls who have been manipulated, groomed, then held hostage through money, drugs, and threats of bodily harm are used and abused right where they live. Some go to school and are trafficked in the afternoons and evenings, cooperating out of fear for their lives or their family’s lives. According to the FBI’s website, “human trafficking is the third largest criminal activity in the world.” The International Labor Organization estimates that there are 4.8 million people trafficked into forced sexual exploitation globally, and 99% of victims in the commercial sex industry are women and girls. A moving testimonial on the Just Ask website reveals how a young girl was trafficked for three years starting at the age of fourteen. She lived at home and was seeing a counselor. She says, “If someone had cared enough to JUST ASK what was going on, maybe I would have never been a victim.” I incorporated MS-13 into the story, because they are one of the worst
human trafficking offenders in the Washington, D.C. metro area.
Diamonds & Deception has been the most difficult Karina Cardinal mystery for me to write because of the solemn and weighty topic of human trafficking. To learn more about human trafficking, how you can identify and prevent it, I encourage you to visit any of the sites listed below.
Just Ask Prevention Project: justaskprevention.org
Saved in America: savedinamerica.org
National Association for Missing and Exploited Children: helprescuechildren.org
Human Smuggling and Trafficking Center: www.ice.gov/human-smuggling-trafficking-center
FBI Human Trafficking and Involuntary Servitude: www.fbi.gov/investigate/civil-rights/human-trafficking
Acknowledgements
This Karina Cardinal adventure wouldn’t have come to fruition without some input and help from so many. First, thanks to David Swinson. Your advice as a retired police officer is always intriguing and helpful when I’m storyboarding. You’ll see I incorporated your information regarding burglars. Andrew Billings, thank you for sharing your stories as a paramedic and knowledge about drug interactions and medications. Matt Fine, your professional knowledge is always helpful, and thinking about how you will react when reading my stories keeps me honest. You always provide sage advice and encouragement, which is much appreciated. The FBI museum provided valuable information as did the retired FBI agents who are docents at the museum. Additionally, I deeply value the information I received from the Just Ask Prevention Project. Their website, along with others, was a fount of knowledge and provided me an accurate reality of the human trafficking tragedy in Northern Virginia.
Being an indie author can be daunting, as all aspects of publishing are on my shoulders. Over the past few years, I have surrounded myself with a team that helps me put out both an entertaining and competitive product. I couldn’t do without my editor, Emily Junker, who unerringly points out poor grammar, inconsistencies, and faulty story lines. Working with my cover artist, Rebekah Sather, has been an absolute joy. She creates eye-catchingly beautiful artwork for Karina, which I am proud to put next to any traditionally published cover. Finally, to my blurb wizard, Carolan Ivey—while I can develop a diverting 70,000-word novel, I bow to your zippy abbreviating skills.