No Rhyme or Reason

by Mairsile Leabhair

  “I’m here. I’m here,” she shouted, rushing through the door. She sat on the edge of the tub, and I climbed into her arms.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked, wrapping her arms around me and holding me tight. It wasn’t tight enough.

  Trembling in her arms, I couldn’t find the words to explain what was wrong. In fact, nothing was wrong. Everything was right. It hit me so hard that I wasn’t prepared for it. “I remember,” I gushed, both crying and laughing. “I remember everything now. I remember where I live. I remember my favorite foods, music, even my favorite blouse.” I realized that I was babbling, but it was just spilling out of me. “I remembered that I’m single, never married, no children, but I want some. I love traveling, mountain climbing, taking long walks on the beach. I do love to cook, and I have a large collection of cookbooks.”

  I’m Just a Woman – Trina Wiles

  As much as I would have loved for her to prattle on, she was shivering— from the cold or the revelations, I wasn’t sure. I grabbed the towel from the rack and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Okay, let me help you out,” I said, but she wouldn’t leave my arms.

  Finally, she looked up at me with tears in her eyes and a grin across her face. “I remembered.”

  I knelt on the floor so that I would be eye to eye with her. “Yes, you did, and it sounds like you’ve remembered everything.”

  “I’m not sure,” she replied. “It keeps coming in flashes, like a lightning storm.”

  She was still trembling, and I worried the water had grown cold. “Let’s get you out of that tub and dressed, then I want to hear everything else you remembered.”

  When she stood up, we both realized she was naked. I was still kneeling, and it was a moment or two before I comprehended that I was gawking at her. She quickly pulled the towel off her shoulders and covered herself.

  “Oh, uh. I’ll be, uh…” Stammering, I jumped up and turned around, blushing profusely. “I’ll be in the kitchen getting a beer.” I opened the door and stopped. “Want anything?” I asked over my shoulder.

  “To see you blush again would be nice,” she teased. “But in lieu of that, I’ll take you up on that omelet you mentioned earlier.”

  “Getting your memory back has made you bold,” I said jokingly, still not looking.

  “Oh, honey. You have no idea,” she retorted, sloshing water about.

  I was tempted to ask her what she meant, but I pushed the temptation aside and left the room. Still, the vision of her dripping wet with bubbles sliding down her stomach, pooling in her belly button before continuing down, nesting themselves in her hair, was almost more than I could bear. I opened the freezer and stuck my head inside. What am I, sixteen years old again? No, I’m just a woman.

  Take Them Back – Ruby Grace Sutherland aka Joyce

  It was difficult getting dressed as flashes of memory continued to streak across my mind. Some memories skittered away only to come back with a burst of clarity. Other memories were so heavy, so bombastic, that I had to grab hold of the counter to steady myself until they grew light with recognition and understanding.

  As I slipped into my jeans and shrugged into my blouse, the sweetest memories danced across my mind, showing me that I was a happy child, adventurous, and precocious. It was much the same as an adult until my parents’ death. That memory left me feeling empty and alone, as if their deaths had just happened, although it had been years ago. I struggled with that remembrance, crying as I buttoned my blouse. But just as I walked out of the bathroom and toward the kitchen, the cruelest memory of all came at me like a speeding train and I fell to my knees, sobbing.

  Chapter Eighteen

  What Did You Remember? – Trina Wiles

  Pulling my head out of the freezer, I set about making omelets. Once I had calmed my libido, a different excitement took its place. She’s getting her memories back. With her memory restored, I was sure that the case would be solved much faster and her nightmare would be over. I only hoped she knew who the informant was because if we didn’t find out, the bastard would walk away scot-free.

  I opened the egg carton and pulled out an egg. Startled by a scream, I dropped the egg on the floor, shattering its shell and busting its yolk. I ran out of the kitchen to find Joyce on the floor, holding her head as she rocked to and fro. Her keening sent chills down my spine as I gathered her up in my arms and carried her to the coach.

  “What is it? What did you remember?” I asked with an edge of panic in my voice. I placed her on the couch and grabbed the afghan to cover her.

  “My sister,” she sobbed. “My sister is dead.”

  “Oh, no. Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” I took her in my arms again and rubbed her back. After a few minutes, she quieted. I reached for the box of tissues on the end table and pulled one out. I dabbed at her tears and then got a fresh tissue and held it to her nose. “Blow.”

  She looked at me for a moment, then took the tissue from my hand and blew her nose.

  “Let me get you some water.” I jumped up and went into the kitchen. Sidestepping the eggshell on the floor, I opened the refrigerator door and retrieved a bottle of water. Unscrewing the top, I went back into the living room and handed her the bottle. Sitting down beside her again, I waited until she had taken a drink before I began probing. Fearing she was too upset to talk about her sister, I thought she would be more susceptible to talk about what led up to her sister’s death.

  “Can you tell me what happened? Start at the beginning with who you really are.”

  She stared at the wall behind me for a moment, her blue eyes looking inward. A light shone through her grief as she said, “I’m Special Agent Ruby Sutherland with the FBI. I’ve only been an agent for three years, but I worked as an accountant for the FBI two years before that.”

  Big piece of the puzzle just solved. Because she was so fragile, I resisted the urge to rush in and drag everything out of her at once. “Are you working a case now?”

  Her eyes welled up again as she said, “Yes, and I need to report in.”

  “And you will,” I assured her. “But first, tell me what happened.”

  She looked down at the tissue she was fiddling with. Her small fingers folded and creased the corners until they tore off and fell onto the afghan covering her lap. I handed her another tissue.

  “Did you know that my sister always knew she wanted to be a nun?”

  “No, I didn’t,” I replied softly, feeling that she wanted to talk, not report. I’d give her all the time she needed.

  “When we were kids, she was the extrovert. Always on the go with church, sports, and school. She excelled at everything.” Joyce closed her eyes and chuckled, as if reliving a fond memory. “I hated her.”

  “I was the same way with my kid brother.”

  “Imagine what it was like being her twin. People kept mistaking me for her and complimenting me for stuff she had done. It got really annoying.”

  “I imagine. But even before you got your memories back, I could tell that you were your own person.”

  She tilted her head my way and smiled at me. “Thank you for that.”

  Nodding, I said, “Keep going, you’re doing great.”

  “Okay, well, as she grew up, her passion turned to helping those less fortunate, especially children. After she took her vows, she worked with the homeless families, finding them shelter and jobs. She was quite good at it.” Joyce tossed the tissue in her lap and drank a sip of water before continuing. “She stumbled on to something that frightened her so much, she came to me in tears.”

  “What was it?”

  Joyce looked at me with anger in her tear-filled eyes. “Selling underage virgin females to the highest bidder.”

  This was not a surprise to me. Studies showed that more than 50,000 people are trafficked yearly from other countries into the US, and a quarter of those come through Texas. The stats for Houston alone were staggering. Young girls and women were forced into prostitution, sold at auctions for se
x, domestic servitude, and forced labor.

  “So, the FBI conducted an investigation?” I prompted.

  “Yes. Based on what Emily told us, we followed the clues to an apartment building on… oh, my God.” Her eyes darted back and forth as she grabbed my arm to steady herself.

  “What is it?”

  She met my eyes and said, “The apartment building. It’s a block away from the church. Your brother’s church.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  Every detective, regardless of what unit they worked in, knew that most human traffickers were usually a large-scale crime ring living in plain sight. But to have one living so close to my brother sent a cold chill down my spine. I pulled out my cell phone and texted Paul, giving him the location of Joey’s base.

  “You should warn your brother, too,” Joyce suggested.

  “This was the second time the police have been to that church in a week,” I explained, calming my own nerves. “I’ll bet my last dollar that they’re no longer in that apartment building.”

  “You’re probably right,” she agreed. “All that work for nothing.”

  I shook my head. “If you can identify them then it wasn’t for nothing.”

  “I never actually got a look at them, but I heard their names enough times. Dumarsais and Edmonia Andrepont. They’re Haitian Creole, originally from Belize, Central America. They have a large crime ring, mostly family, in Mexico, Belize, and here.”

  “Who did you work with in the family?”

  “Their youngest son, Joenal. Everyone called him Joey.”

  “How old is he?” I asked, standing up and walking over to my jacket hanging on the chair. Pulling my pen and pad out, I returned to the couch and sat back down.

  “Twenty-six. A real fancy pants who loved the spotlight. Mean son-of-a-bitch, too.”

  “How so?” I asked, jotting down my notes.

  Her face turned a dark crimson as the creases in her forehead deepened. “The girls that he decided were too ugly to sell were taken to his bedroom and deflowered, as he called it, before being sent into servitude.”

  “And you just stood by and let that happened?” I blurted without thinking. I backpedaled as fast as I could. “Oh, God, no. That’s not what I meant.” Of course, I knew she couldn’t reveal herself without compromising her position and possibly getting both of them killed.

  She pulled back, disappointment and anger swirling in her eyes.

  “I’m a jerk. I admit it, and I’m so sorry,” I groveled. “Please, tell me you accept my apology?”

  “I take it back,” she said flatly. “I don’t think I like your bluntness after all. But you are right. It goes against everything I believe in, but I’m a federal agent and I did my job. I just pray God forgives me.”

  “No, Joyce. You have nothing to be forgiven for. This is not your sin to carry. And come Judgement Day, God will rip those assholes a new one and kick them down to hell for what they’ve done.”

  She looked at me and burst out laughing. “You should be a priest, liven the church up a little.”

  “Nah. I wouldn’t pass the swear word test.”

  Again she laughed, and I was relieved to hear it. “So, are you still mad at me?”

  “No. And just so you know, I didn’t just stand there and let it happen. I tried to stop it and got a black eye for interfering.”

  “Shit, that’s rough.”

  “Very, and it’s also when they became suspicious of me. I kept my head down, avoiding Joey and his guards at all cost.”

  “What was your role in the undercover operation?” I asked.

  “Keeping the books. Their last accountant apparently died from a heart attack. When we found that out, my special agent in charge, Jack Gray, asked me if I was up for it. I was anxious to prove my worth and eagerly accepted the job. He thought I was good enough and I couldn’t let him down. We erased my identification and gave me an alias.”

  “So, how did you convince the perps to hire you?” I asked, jotting down her alias on my notepad.

  “It was surprisingly easy. It just took a few months to convince them. I hung out at a bar they were known to frequent, telling everyone who would listen how I just lost my accountant job when the company I worked for was shut down by the Feds. By the third month, Joey struck up a conversation with me and I dropped a couple of hints that I had no problem with creative accounting. You could tell Joey fancied himself a ladies’ man and always had women hanging all over him, but that night he was alone and serious. I believe he had already run a background check on me and found that I had a few minor scrapes with the law.”

  This time, when a thought popped into my head, I was able to hold my tongue, because I was terrified of the answer. Some agents will do whatever it takes to catch the criminal. Seeing Joyce as the victim, shy and timid, I knew she would never sleep with the perp, but listening to Special Agent Sutherland talk, I wasn’t so sure.

  “He said he had an opening in his firm and asked if I was interested. Said there were all kinds of perks that went with the job, but first, I’d have to pass a very thorough background check. He even had the gall to suggest that one of the perks was sleeping with him. I not so politely declined.”

  It was the answer I was hoping for. “But you got the job anyway?”

  “Yeah. Actually, turning him down was what clinched it. He has a code about sleeping with the people who handle his money. He’s afraid his prowess as a stud would prove too much for someone who worked with numbers. Can you believe that?”

  “Considering what he does for a living, yes, I can believe it.”

  “I would have, you know. If there was no other way, I would have slept with him. If it meant saving those kids’ lives, I could have turned off my aversion and put the kids first. To me, sex without love is mechanical and soon forgotten. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make.”

  “Would you have felt the same way if you were in love or married?” I cross-examined selfishly.

  “No, I don’t think so, but then I’ve never been in love or married.”

  She gazed at me with questioning eyes, and I realized she was waiting for my approval. It wasn’t up to me to sanction her methods, but I could certainly understand them. Thankfully, I’ve never been put in that kind of situation where I had to make that decision. “I get that. It would have been a difficult call for you, I’m sure. What about that tattoo on the back of your neck? Was that his?”

  “Yes,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “He tattooed the women who worked for him as a warning to his men not to touch.”

  “Damn, I can’t imagine what that took to let him brand you like that.”

  “That’s how badly I wanted in.”

  “So, how long were you embedded with them?” I asked, still processing the tattoo revelation.

  “Not long, just three months,” she answered. “It took me a very long time to court them and win their trust.”

  “What were you looking for? I mean, you got in close with Joey, what else were you hoping to learn?”

  “My main objective was to find out when his parents were in the States so we could catch them all and close down the bastards once and for all.”

  “Ambitious. Did you find that out?”

  “Yes, that’s why I need to report in as soon as possible. They’re flying in for Joey’s birthday party next week.”

  “So, the family is close?” I asked. “I mean, he’ll be twenty-seven, right? That’s not really a big milestone.”

  “They’re not very close. Well, the mom is close, but the father thinks he’s worthless. At least that’s what I gathered from the guards talking about Joey’s whining.”

  “Ah, a momma’s boy. Doesn’t surprise me. Perps like him over-compensate to make up for it.”

  “You’re exactly right,” she agreed. “So, can I call it in, now?”

  “Hear me out first, okay?” I asked, knowing that she was gung-ho to call it in, but I wanted her to weigh the risks first. �
��You know we have an informant, or, as I was thinking earlier, the snitch has a snitch.” She chuckled and took another sip of water as I continued. “The question is, are they police or Fed? Both have access to reports on you, and all they have to do is ask a few questions.”

  She thought about it for a moment before she spoke. “I don’t think you can include my immediate superior in that scenario. He’s the only one who knew I went undercover, and I trust him with my life.”

  “Maybe he’s not the one, but someone close to him could be. That’s why I won’t even tell Paul where we are. I trust him, but people have a way of finding things out. It’s best that only the two of us know what’s going on.”

  “You don’t understand, Trina. I want to go back in.”

  My mouth gaped open. “You what?”

  “I want to get them to confess to my sister’s murder and tell me where she is, so I can give her a proper burial.”

  Shaking my head, I had more questions than answers. “Why do you think she’s dead?”

  “I have her wedding ring. The one she put on when she made her vows. She would never give that up willingly.”

  “That doesn’t mean she’s dead. Do you remember how you ended up with her ring? Did you hide it in your shoe or did someone else put it there?”

  She looked through me as if what she was looking for was behind me. Then her eyes welled up and tears spilled over unabashed. “I can’t remember… Why can’t I remember?” she cried.

  An idea came to mind that I didn’t take time to thoroughly think through. “I have a theory.” I wasn’t sure that she heard me, so I waited a few moments and then repeated, “I have a theory why you can’t remember it.”

  She wiped her cheek with her hand and finally looked at me.

  “Maybe you were coming back from seeing your sister when you were attacked. You said you didn’t remember anything after they drugged you, and we don’t know for sure how long afterward that you were affected by the drugs. I think you don’t remember how you got the ring because you may have come into possession of it during that time.”