The woman swallowed, still looking skittish, but nodded. “I will tell it all.”
Stasi harrumphed. “If you’re going to hang around, I’m out of here. Churches always make me nervous.” She shuddered. “I don’t know why we couldn’t hold this at a funeral home.”
Savannah dug through her purse and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, then thought again. She put the money away. “I’ll stay with Addy, so you can leave.” She turned toward Hope and away from Stasi.
Stasi reached into Savannah’s purse, but Savannah placed a protective hand around it. “How am I supposed to get home?”
“A taxi or carshare should work. You are a smart woman who can figure it out.”
“Did you know my dad?” Addy asked Hope.
The woman gave her a solemn nod. “I did.”
Addy looked at Savannah. “Where should we go?”
Savannah glanced around the sanctuary and then toward the exit. “I bet there’s a Sunday school room we can use. Follow me.”
They formed a snake winding down the hallways to the Sunday school rooms. Savannah felt a strong urge to look back and see if Stasi followed, but she needed to let her sister handle her own challenges. After all, grabbing a cab was a small piece of adulting. If Stasi couldn’t manage that, Savannah had coddled her too much. She couldn’t do that any longer.
The chairs in the Sunday school room were a rainbow of colors. They were small, designed for early elementary school kids. But the hall was quiet and the room empty of people, so she led the way inside. The four stood awkwardly until Savannah swept an arm to the chairs around the table. “We can sit there.”
Jett looked from the chairs to her. “There’s no way I’ll fit in one of those.”
“Then sit on the floor. I want to hear what Hope has to tell us.”
The woman was of indeterminate age, but probably younger than Savannah. She sank onto a chair at the head of the table with a regal ease that suggested she could be at home anywhere. Then she gestured to the chairs on either side. “Come. I have much to share.”
Savannah quirked an eyebrow at Jett, and he accepted the challenge. His knees were by his chin but he placed his elbows on top of them and grinned. “I feel like a giant.”
Addy shook her head at his antics and sat on a chair across from Hope. “Why are you here?”
Savannah eased next to her niece and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Addy . . .”
“It is all right.” Hope licked her lips, and then nodded. “Your father was a great man, Addy. He helped save girls like you.”
* * *
A blend of curiosity and dread filled Jett. Where was this woman headed? “Can you explain?”
“Gladly.” The woman opened the purse she’d clung to so tightly. She pulled out a photo and placed it on the table. Addy and Savannah leaned over it, and Jett not-so-patiently waited his turn to see. She looked at Jett. “I sent a copy of this photo to you.”
“I haven’t received anything like this.”
“Then your postal service is glacially slow.”
“That’s my dad.” Addy pointed at a dark-haired man on one end of a group of four people. Then she glanced up at Hope. “Is this you?”
Jett squinted to see who Addy pointed at.
“It is. The four of us were an advance team for Until All Are Free.”
Jett’s gut churned as he recognized the name. “That’s a human trafficking organization.”
“Yes. Are you familiar with Light Comes After Darkness?”
“What’s that?” Savannah was looking between them as if she knew she was missing half of the conversation. She had no idea.
A knowing glint entered Hope’s expression. “An organization I told him to look into.” She lowered her voice, and its melodic quality was replaced by a sound he vaguely recognized. “Did you find Bernard Julius?”
“I did.” Savannah’s words didn’t still the churn that filled his stomach. “Dustin’s safe deposit box had a passport with that name on it.”
What was left of his breakfast threatened to abandon him. He just hoped he could get out of the Smurf-sized chair in time. “You’re my caller.” Hope nodded, and he tried to right the world that had suddenly tilted. “Why?”
“Your story told only half of what happened in Thailand.” She held up the photo so he couldn’t miss the image. “Dustin told me he had called you once after your story was printed, but he didn’t tell you his name. It was easy to do the same, but it has not helped. Did you even attempt to find them?”
“Yes.” He thought of the internet searches and dead ends. “Had one of my associates help. Neither of us could locate either Bernard Julius or Light Comes After Darkness.”
Savannah glanced between them. “Can one of you fill me in? I’m lost.”
“Me too.” Addy’s voice was small, like she couldn’t quite hope. “What does this have to do with my dad?”
Hope turned to the young woman, and a light shone in her eyes as she took Addy’s hands. “Your father was a hero in my country. He and the two men worked to identify girls and women who had been trafficked and held in slavery.” She turned to Savannah. “He would speak of you with a light in his eyes. About the crusading work you do.” She returned her focus to Addy. “And you were his joy. He took these trips to help girls your age who were asked to do terrible things.”
“They were bait.” The words whispered from Savannah, and Jett’s knees flopped apart.
“What are you saying? Give it to me.”
Hope looked at him, and her light dimmed though it was not extinguished. “You saw the story they wanted those in Thailand to believe. But it was fiction. The truth was deeper.”
Light Comes After Darkness.
Was that what it had all been about?
Bringing light into a dark place with the hope of helping some of the kids escape?
“The truth?” He choked on the word. Was this how Superman felt when Kryptonite was waved in front of him? Weak? Unable to think or defend himself? “I found the truth. It took months of research and two trips.”
Her smile was sad as she nodded. “I know. I read the article.”
“If I was wrong, why not tell me when I tried to interview them? I was clear about the purpose of the article. Why not hold a press conference and let the world know after the article was published?”
“Because they were in the middle of planning their next trip.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “Now they cannot. Each of them has died in one week. I cannot save the girls because I cannot trick the pimps.”
“Why are you here now?”
“Dustin asked me to come. Called when he was in the hospital.” She looked at Addy. “He wanted to make sure you knew the truth, and I was the person to share it.”
Savannah seemed to absorb the revelations with equanimity. “What’s your role?”
“I am Thai, so as the police swoop in after the men have trapped the pimps in the act of selling, I assure the girls they are safe and will be cared for. I was once trapped as they are, but I use my experience to help guide them to freedom.”
“Social work.”
“Essentially.”
Jett couldn’t handle the easy back-and-forth of their questions and answers, not when there were more important facts to uncover. He lurched to his feet, propelled by the need to prove her wrong. “What proof do you have? How do I know you do what you say?”
She slowly rose to stand. “It brings me no joy to tell you these things. But it does make me filled with delight to share these photos with you.” She pulled out her phone and clicked a couple of buttons, then turned it toward him. Slowly her finger scrolled across the bottom. “These are the young women we have saved. The ones who have been removed from their captivity. We educate them and teach them how to support themselves in other ways. We reunite them with family when we can and it is safe. This is why the truth could not come forward. Our work had to be kept a secret, or the criminals would outsmart us.” She t
ouched Addy’s cheek. “Your father would want you to know he was a good man doing a brave thing to help others.”
Jett moved to the hallway. And then he walked away. Out the door. Past his car in the lot. He kept walking, even when his toes were frozen in his dress shoes, when he could no longer feel his fingers stuffed in his coat pockets. After his nose would fall off if someone touched it.
He walked.
Could he outwalk the words thrumming in his mind?
It was fiction. A story to protect and save the innocent. The truth was deeper.
This had to be a bad dream.
He was putting too much on this woman’s words. What did she know?
Nothing!
He did the work and was a zealous advocate for truth.
How could what Hope had told them carry the ring of truth? Because it did.
And if he dwelled on that, it would wreck him, because that meant he was no better than the reporter who killed his dad. Only he’d killed Dustin Tate.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Hope spent the next hour with Addy and Savannah sharing tales of the men’s trips to Bangkok. Savannah appreciated how the woman sanitized them to make the stories age appropriate for Addy while still conveying the sense of how momentous the work was.
“These girls will have a chance at a good life thanks to men like your father.”
“That’s amazing.” Addy’s eyes were big as tears slid down her cheeks. “Why did he have to die?” The words were hollow as she looked at Savannah. Help me understand was the unspoken plea written on her face.
“There’s more to the story.” Savannah pulled out her phone and showed Hope the photos she’d taken of the contents in Dustin’s safe deposit box. “Do you have any idea why he had these gems and gold?”
The Thai woman nodded slowly. “He told me he was doing this. It was his money to buy freedom for the girls they couldn’t get the police to free. It is easier to carry than cash. Things have improved, but time is critical. He wanted to know he could do more when the need arose.” She delicately ran her pointer fingers beneath her eyes. “He and Logan were on Flight 2840 to attend a meeting to raise additional support. Logan paid for the trips, but he had friends who helped with other expenses.”
Addy looked at Hope with wonder. “Dad was doing something important.”
“Very important to each young woman he helped.” An alarm beeped on her phone, and Hope startled. “I must leave.” She pulled a card from a pocket in her purse and handed it to Addy. “Here is my email. Feel free to write when you have more questions.” She stood and extended her hand to Savannah. “I am sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. You and Dustin were close.”
A flush of color warmed Hope’s face. “Yes. You cannot do work like ours without a certain familiarity.”
“I’m glad you found him.” As she said the words, Savannah felt a release that surprised her. It was good that Dustin had found a cause to pour his energy into. And if this elfin woman had captured his attention like he had captured hers? That was something to celebrate . . . and mourn. She took Hope’s hands. “And I am very sorry for your loss.”
A tear leaked down the woman’s cheek as she bobbed a thank-you over their intertwined hands.
Savannah motioned for Addy to stay, then followed Hope into the hallway. “Please be careful. Jett and I can’t prove it yet, but we believe Dustin and Evan were killed because of Jett’s article. If we’re right, then you could be in danger too.”
Hope gave her a small smile. “Everyone believes there was a fourth man on the trips. Thanks to your reporter, I will be safe here.” Then the woman walked away, confidence etched in her form as she went.
Addy had pushed all the chairs against the table when Savannah reentered the room. “Ready to go back to my place, kiddo?”
“Could you take me home? I need to think and check on Mom.”
“Are you sure?”
At Addy’s nod, Savannah agreed since she had a lot to process too.
When they arrived at the apartment, Stasi appeared to be deep in sleep. Savannah made sure Addy was settled. “Call me the moment you need anything.”
Then she returned to her car and began the drive home. The memorial service hadn’t quite released her from its grip. She’d felt every moment that Addy had tensed, sensed every tear the girl had cried. Savannah had tried to be strong for her niece, but she’d felt undone as each shift still reminded her of the bruises that were only now starting to fade from the car accident, and Friday night’s stitches itched. It hadn’t helped that the one time she deflected her gaze from the front, Jett had looked at her and in an instant she felt seen and understood.
The gravity of the service, followed by Hope’s revelations, had Savannah feeling like she’d just experienced a crazy roller-coaster ride. She’d been shocked and then inspired by what Dustin and his friends did, but Jett had left and not returned.
All she wanted was to run to Espresso Yourself and pretend none of the last two weeks had happened.
Except Jett.
She very much wanted to keep him in her life.
His presence at the memorial service supported her in a way her colleagues’ presence didn’t, not that they weren’t there for her. It just felt deeper with Jett, a man she barely knew.
Now it was her turn to be concerned about him. He’d left his Blazer in the church parking lot. On her way home from Addy’s, she’d taken a circuitous route past the church and noted his vehicle sat in the same slot as when she left. He had to be somewhere nearby, but where? She drove in a slowly expanding route around the church but didn’t see a place that made sense to stop and look for him.
She pulled into a restaurant parking lot and texted him. You okay?
While she waited for an answer, she ran through what was said prior to his exit. Something had caused his shoulders to brace and his chin to dip. As she replayed the revelations, the crescendo of them built in her mind. She thought about how they would have landed on Jett, a man who believed he was a purveyor of truth. His thorough research had been upended.
That had to be what had shaken him.
Every time they’d discussed the trips, he rolled out his files and copies. The truth he accepted. Now they were not what they seemed.
She headed back by the church. This time his car was gone. She knew where to go next. Her phone buzzed and she took the call through her car’s Bluetooth. “Savannah.”
“Are you done with your responsibilities with the memorial?” Bella’s voice was apologetic.
“Yes, I’ve dropped Addy off and am headed home.”
“I think you need to come in.” Bella paused. “When I arrived back at the firm, John and Rochelle were waiting. Said they need to see you as soon as possible.” She lowered her voice. “It looks serious.”
She might be weary, but after the way things had been left on Friday, she needed to know what John had to say. “I’m on my way.”
* * *
His friends’ house wasn’t big enough. Jett needed to get out and punch something . . . multiple times, because since leaving the church, all he had felt was the thrum of built-up tension.
Hope Boonmee was the fourth man.
No wonder Logan Donnelly’s father got a funny look on his face when Jett had asked if he knew the fourth man. He’d never suspected it was a woman. Sincerity filled her words and raw emotion filled her face. Her photos had shown the foursome together and with different women and girls.
If she was right . . . and her evidence supported it . . . then he had been wrong.
But he couldn’t be. The driving motivation for all he did was truth. He knew the terrible consequences of not pursuing it diligently. It’s why he had the profession he did. It wasn’t a job but a calling.
Anything less than the truth drove against the very core of who he was.
The look in Savannah’s eyes as she watched him absorb Hope’s story slayed him. He saw a hint of accusation. Surely she
knew that after he’d told her about his experience with his father he wouldn’t lightly publish an article so potentially damaging.
It was hard to box a shadow.
And that’s all Dustin was now. A shadow who could be perfect because he couldn’t prove anyone wrong by screwing up. Someone had made sure of that, a reality that fell like a hundred-pound weight across Jett’s shoulders. That was the shadow Jett had to identify. That’s what the story required now, and he’d do it. He had no choice.
He pressed back against the darkness. After pacing the small length of his living room, he marched into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. He downed it in one long gulp, then filled it again.
He needed to verify what Hope had told him. Then he needed to draft a retraction.
He set the empty glass in the sink and moved back to the couch. He could solve what had happened in Asia. Savannah had sent him photos of the bank box. He pulled out his phone and studied the pictures. Passports. Gold bars. A ring box. He texted Savannah.
What was in the bag?
The next tab on his tablet included his notes on the tweets. Grace Martin. The slain daughter of Agent James Martin. The man had not handled her death well at the time. Could it still affect him? And was it pure chance he was part of the investigation into Savannah’s clients? He rubbed a hand over his face.
His phone dinged with a reply from Savannah.
Thought I sent you that photo. Gems. Loose gems. Hope said money to buy freedom when police couldn’t raid where girls were. Gotta run. Mnemosyne clients waiting for me at firm.
Jett did a quick search of the Source’s archives. Grace had an older brother. John Martin. A nondescript name, but one that was familiar. Why? He plugged it into a search engine and started skimming links until one stopped him. He clicked through to the article.
John Martin was a founding partner in a tech company that wanted to take on black boxes. His company, Mnemosyne, was represented by Savannah in a lawsuit that had the possibility to kill the business.
* * *
It was four when she finally reached the firm. Traffic had been backed up on King from Seven Corners to 395 thanks to an accident that had closed part of 495. There was an open space in front, so she snagged it. Once inside she barely slowed as she walked past Bella’s desk. “Where are John and Rochelle?”
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