Wild Captive

by Tripp Ellis

  Her visage was mesmerizing.

  Finally, in a brief moment of professionalism, I said, "Okay. I think we've got what we need."

  She smiled. "That was kind of fun, actually."

  Yes, it was.

  “You know, you never did take me for that drink. It's too bad you're working for the Sheriff’s Department again. We might never know what could have been between us.” She pouted.

  I was seriously considering tendering my resignation that instant.

  Damn policy against interdepartmental romances.

  Denise slithered out of bed, slipped on the robe, and disappeared into the bathroom.

  I almost cried.

  It was like someone had turned off the lights. All the joy and excitement had just left the room.

  The image of her in her underwear was etched into my retinas. That vision would persist indefinitely.

  I selected a few photos that didn't look too professional, yet still sexy, in that amateur kind of way. I used Edgar’s phone to send them to Bennett and said, "I have new talent. Interested?"

  41

  It didn't take long for Bennett to reply. He sent a text that read:

  [Yeah, I'm interested.]

  [Can you meet today?]

  [Not today. Tomorrow.]

  [I've got other interested buyers, but I wanted to give you first dibs.]

  There was a long pause.

  [I think I can move some things around and swing a meeting today.]

  [Great.]

  [Same price?]

  [No. This one is special.]

  [She a virgin?]

  [What do you think?]

  [LOL. I can do $35K tops, pending inspection. I’ll give you $50K for a bona fide virgin.]

  [I'll keep that in mind. 7 PM at the Sand Comber. Room #17]

  [See you then.]

  That was the end of our conversation. And just like that, I had arranged to sell another human being to a man for $35,000. I wondered how much he would sell her for, and to whom?

  I crossed my fingers and waited for Bennett to show.

  It was 6:58 PM when he knocked on the door to room #17. By that time, we had strategically positioned ourselves in the adjoining room.

  Edgar pulled open the door and motioned for Bennett to enter.

  The skin trader had a black duffel bag over his shoulder full of cash. Denise slinked on the bed, pretending to be in an opiate-induced haze.

  Small hidden cameras placed in the room, connected wirelessly, allowed us to watch from the next room.

  Bennett surveyed the merchandise. He looked pleasantly surprised. "Impressive. The photos were good, but she's equally pretty in person. Stand up, sugar,"

  Bennett's lecherous eyes took in Denise’s luscious form. "Well, don't be shy. Take it off."

  Denise exchanged a nervous glance with Edgar.

  "Do as he says," Edgar commanded. "If you want me to fix you up, you'll cooperate. Plus, where you're going, you'll make a lot of money. More than you make here."

  Denise reached her arm behind her back and unsnapped her bra. She let the frilly thing drop off her shoulders.

  "Good. No scars. Now the bottoms."

  Denise reluctantly complied.

  She did a good job of stifling her anger. I was sure I was going to get an ear full when this was all said and done.

  I felt terrible.

  I had put her in a situation that she didn't want to be in.

  "Spin around," Bennett demanded. He surveyed her body as she turned, slowly.

  Bennett smiled afterward. "We have a deal."

  He tossed the black duffel bag on the bed. "Alright, sugar. Get dressed. You're coming with me."

  I burst into the room through the connecting door, and JD entered from the front, weapons drawn.

  "Freeze, scumbag!" I shouted, the barrel of my pistol aimed at the despicable man's chest. "Put your hands in the air! County Sheriff! You’re under arrest for human trafficking."

  JD grabbed the scumbag and wrenched his wrists behind his back and slapped on the metal cuffs.

  Bennett's face tensed.

  "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say…" I continued to read him his Miranda rights.

  Denise slipped on her robe and glared at me as she stormed into the bathroom to get dressed.

  "Okay, scumbag," I said. "Where is Violet Scarpetti?"

  He glared at me and said nothing.

  "Start talking, or you're gonna be spending a long time behind bars."

  "I want an attorney." He flashed a smug smile.

  JD pushed him down.

  With his hands cuffed behind his back, there wasn't anything to break his fall, except his face.

  He groaned as he hit the floor.

  "Oops, my bad. Did that hurt?"

  I lorded over Bennett. "Okay, smart-ass. Let me clue you in on a few things. A lot of things can happen between here and the station. You could trip and fall down a flight of stairs. Accidents happen. You could get badly injured after assaulting an officer. You could get shot while trying to escape. You might not make it to the station at all. They might find your body carved up in tiny pieces and dumped in the ocean. Hell, they might not find your body at all! Or maybe I’ll take you down to the station and put you in a cell with a convicted killer, and he beats you to death for looking at him the wrong way?"

  I let that hang in the air for a moment. I wasn’t entirely sure if I was bluffing. I knew if this guy hid behind the lawyers, we might never find Violet.

  Bennett needed time to think about it. The dirt-ball grimaced on the floor, and Edgar looked at us like we were insane.

  We were, a little.

  "So, what do you say?” I asked. “How about we try this again? Where is Violet Scarpetti?"

  JD growled, “The man's talking to you. It would be rude not to answer."

  42

  "JD, why don't you take Edgar into the next room?" I said. "Things are about to get pretty rough, and I don't want any witnesses.”

  My eyes flicked to Edgar with a silent request for assistance.

  Edgar hunched over Bennett. "Look man, these motherfuckers are crazy. They ain't real cops. They'll do whatever they want, and you'll vanish off the face of the earth without a trace. I'm not even going to tell you the shit they did to me, but it involved jumper cables, car batteries, and a very sensitive part of the anatomy. So, if you like pain, by all means, keep quiet. All you've got to do is tell them what they want. You can cut a deal and save yourself a lot of heartache."

  Edgar stood up and JD shuffled him into the next room.

  Bennett's nervous eyes flicked around the motel—facedown on the floor, with his hands cuffed behind his back, the grimy carpet inches from his nose.

  "I have rights. You can't do this. I'll sue your ass, and the department."

  I laughed. "What makes you think you're going to make it out of this room? It's just you and me, pal. Anything can happen."

  "You don't know who you're fucking with,” Bennett threatened.

  "No. You don't know who you're fucking with."

  "These people are powerful."

  "Who?"

  "If I rat on these people, I'm a dead man. They are powerful and connected. Politicians, hedge fund guys, tech billionaires, syndicate types. It's real illuminati type shit, man. If I talk, you've got to guarantee my safety. I'm talking witness protection, relocation, the whole 9 yards.”

  "You tell me who we’re dealing with, and I'll take the scumbags down."

  He laughed. "It's way bigger than you."

  "Don't be so sure about that."

  "Looks like you’ve got a tough decision to make,” I said. "If these people are as powerful and connected as you say they are, they're going to get really nervous when they find out you’ve been arrested. How long do you think you'd last in jail?"

  He thought about it for a long moment. "Okay. Look, a guy pays me cash for the girls. I sell them for double the markup and make a healthy profit. He
takes them out of the country to a private island in the Caribbean. The girls are kept compliant with the use of drugs. They are taken care of, and they make a little money, but they'll never get out of the hole. They're too scared to leave, and they’ll never make it on their own. This island is a pleasure palace for the rich and famous. The best girls are reserved for private sales. Rich oil sheiks, Russian businessmen, you name it. What happens from there, I don't know."

  "Where is this island?"

  "I don't know. They flew me down once on a private jet. Kind of like a perk for being a good supplier. But I don't know where the hell it is. They took my cell phone when I visited. You have to be an invited guest."

  “How does one get invited?"

  "You gotta be part of that inner circle. You gotta be part of the illuminati."

  “Who did you see when you were on the island?"

  "Ah, man. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

  “Try me.”

  Bennett listed a number of prominent figures that would make your head spin. One of them, in particular, caught my attention.

  Denise emerged from the bathroom, dressed in full uniform. There was a lot on her mind, and I'm sure I would hear all of it before long.

  I called Sheriff Daniels, and he sent a patrol car over to take Edgar and Bennett down to the station.

  Edgar complained. "I helped you out, man. Why are you going to take me back to jail?"

  "Conditional upon Violet’s safe return. When that happens, you get sprung."

  His face twisted. "I went to bat for you. And I'm pretty sure you broke a few laws when you extracted that confession from Bennett. If I were you, I would think about how you are going to keep me quiet."

  "Is that a threat?"

  "I ain't threatening nobody. I'm just saying. I helped you out, you can help me out."

  "I'll make sure you get taken care of."

  "Just as long as we have an understanding."

  The deputies arrived and took the dirtballs away.

  I had a moment alone with Denise in the hotel room. She glared at me with folded arms.

  "I'm sorry about what you had to go through. I never intended it to go that far."

  "You owe me, big time!”

  "I know."

  "I'm not some trampy little slut that takes her clothes off for just anybody. I've been with two guys in my entire life. More people saw me naked today than ever before. And they weren’t people I wanted to see me that way." She hesitated. "Well, except for one, maybe.” Her shy eyes stared into me, then glanced away.

  "I promise, I will make it up to you. You did a good thing today. If we can bust up this sex trafficking ring, we can save countless girls."

  She paused. "You know you're gonna catch hell? Bennett is going to complain and say you threatened him.

  “So, maybe that wasn't my finest hour? But you know as well as I do, he wasn’t going to talk without a little encouragement."

  I could see she wasn't exactly comfortable with what had happened. On multiple levels.

  "Look, I'm not gonna ask you to lie for me,” I said. “If it comes down to it, and Bennett files a complaint, tell it like it happened."

  We left the motel and headed back to the station. There was plenty of paperwork to fill out.

  43

  I pushed my pen across the paper, trying to recount the details of the bust in a clear and concise manner.

  Sheriff Daniels burst into the conference room with a scowl on his face.

  I knew what was coming next.

  "Bennett has lawyered up, and he says that you coerced a confession from him."

  "Well, there were three other witnesses in the room. What did they say?"

  He hesitated for a long moment.

  My stomach twisted, and my heart beat elevated slightly.

  "They all said he's full of shit."

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  "I wouldn't worry about it. I don't think anything is going to come from it. He's been transferred to a holding pod until his arraignment. I would imagine the judge would set his bail pretty high, but that scumbag probably has the funds to get himself out."

  "Something tells me that guy will need to look over his shoulder. This is pretty deep," I said.

  "How deep?"

  "He could be full of shit, but he mentioned a list of people that frequented the island that would make your jaw drop. One of them was Senator Andrew J. K. Haklen."

  Sheriff Daniels didn't seem fazed. "Not surprising. If I've learned anything during my years it's that nothing is as it seems. And the people on crusades often have the most to hide." Sheriff Daniels sighed. "So, what’s your plan. You’re never going to be able to touch that guy, and I'm guessing he's just a customer, not the mastermind."

  "He's got an upcoming fundraiser. $10,000 a plate,” I said. “I figured it would be a good opportunity to hobnob with the elites."

  "And you think you can pick up a lead there?"

  "As good a place as any."

  "That's a lot of money for a hunch."

  "We can file an FOIA request for Haklen’s travel records,” I said. “We might be able to identify the location of this mysterious island, but who knows how long that would take, if they release the records at all."

  "And if he flew private charters, you may never be able to find that information." Sheriff Daniels thought about it for a moment. "I suppose you're asking me to authorize $20,000 in funds so you two can attend a fancy dinner, eat and drink your fill, hobnob with the elites, and maybe, just maybe, get a lead?"

  "Something like that."

  Sheriff Daniels grimaced.

  "Just think of the political capital you will accrue. I can see the headlines now. Coconut Key County Sheriff exposes international sex trafficking ring of the rich and famous." I said. "Makes for a good headline during an election year, don't you think?"

  "At this rate, I'm not sure I want to get re-elected," he said, dryly.

  He was half joking.

  44

  "Taking someone to prom?" Reagan asked in a wry tone as I stepped into the salon in formal attire. Black tux, white shirt, black cummerbund and tie.

  I sneered at her. "No. I actually have a formal engagement this evening."

  "You’re not going to Senator Haklen’s fundraiser, are you?"

  I shrugged. "And what if I am?"

  She looked impressed. "Then you've got more money than I thought."

  Her eyes narrowed at me. The whole thing didn't sit well with her. "Why are you going? His politics don't exactly align with yours." She hesitated. "Does this have something to do with…"

  "It doesn't have anything to do with anything."

  "You're lying.”

  I raised my hands, innocently. "I'm not."

  "Something is going on."

  "You have a suspicious mind."

  "Yes, and it's the reason I have a career."

  I made a last-minute adjustment to my tie. "How do I look?"

  She shrugged and downplayed her response. "Meh. I've seen you look worse."

  I chuckled and strolled toward the hatch. I called back over my shoulder, "Be good. Don't have any wild parties."

  I stepped into the cockpit and made my way down the dock to the parking lot. JD's red Porsche howled as he screeched into the lot and pulled beside me.

  I had never seen JD look like this before.

  His hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. The familiar Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts were nowhere to be found. Instead he was impeccably dressed in a Hugo Abelli black tuxedo with a white shirt, black cummerbund and tie. He ditched the checkered vans in favor of Cassano leather shoes that were polished to perfection.

  I almost didn't recognize him.

  "Did someone kidnap Jack Donovan and replace him with an imposter?" I asked as I climbed into the passenger seat of the red Porsche.

  He gave me a sideways glance. "I can clean up when I have to."

  The fundraiser was held at the exclu
sive Coconut Key Country Club. A long line rounded the block, waiting to pass through the security checkpoint at the gate.

  We flashed our ticket as we pulled to the security guard. He examined it with a flashlight, checked our IDs, then motioned us onto the property. A long drive led to the main clubhouse. The palatial estate was massive. Mauve colored buildings with tall colonnades and Spanish tile roofs. Pink flamingos roamed freely around the property. We pulled to the main clubhouse, and valet parking attendants grabbed our doors, gave JD a ticket, and whisked the car away into the night. There were limousines, exotic cars, Rolls-Royce's, Bentleys. It was a Who's Who of Coconut Key.

  We strolled up the steps to the main entrance, and an attendant pulled open the door. The foyer was a cavernous space with marble floors and a spiral staircase that led to the second story. There was a baby grand piano in the corner, and a musician in a tuxedo tickled the keys. Socialite women in ball gowns with pearls around their necks, and sparkling rocks on their fingers, mixed and mingled. Their hair was styled to perfection, and wineglasses dangled from their graceful fingers. Servants weaved through the crowd, carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres and wine.

  JD snatched an appetizer as a tray passed in front of his face. He stuffed the small crab ball in his mouth and gulped it down. "That's pretty damn good."

  "For $10,000 a plate, it ought to be."

  You could practically host the Super Bowl in the ballroom. It had high ceilings and gold trim. Renaissance paintings adorned the walls. Dining tables lined the spacious room.

  We made our way through the crowd, taking in the sights. There were famous athletes, celebrities, musicians, wealthy businessman, and models.

  "I think this is a perfect place for me to find myself a little sugar mama," JD said. "I'm sure there are a few rich divorcées wandering around this place."

  There was a meet and greet line with the senator and his wife. They shook hands and greeted guests. We sipped our drinks and waited our turn.