by J. M. LeDuc
“You have this affect on people everywhere you go?”
Sin looked over at Dr. O’Rourke and laughed. “It’s not me, Deb. Have you seen yourself in a mirror lately? You’re a hottie.”
The doc noticed that she had forgotten to put on her lab coat and blushed. “Damn,” she mumbled. “Eight months of conditioning these fools to see me in a professional light just went down the drain.”
A mischievous glint twinkled in Sin’s eyes. “Hell, if that’s all it takes to ruin your rep, let’s give them something to really talk about.”
Dr. O’Rourke looked confused until Sin began to strut with exaggerated hip movements. She moved more like a stripper on stage than a combat hardened government agent.
Dr. O’Rourke burst out laughing at Sin’s self-assuredness and watched all eyes hypnotically gaze as she walked down the hall. By the time they reached the coffee cart in the dining hall, the cases of whiplash had increased ten-fold.
“That felt good to laugh,” Deborah said raising a diet coke to her lips.
“Yeah, it did.” Sin’s expression turned sad as she blew the steam off her espresso.
“Why the face?”
Sin combed her hair back with her fingers and shrugged. “I guess it made me realize that I have never had a girl friend.”
“A girlfriend?”
Sin’s eyes opened wide. “Not a girlfriend, just a female friend. I am surrounded by men everywhere I go. The women I do meet size me up as competition and want to take me down. It’s like I’m the queen bee and they want my hive.”
O’Rourke nodded. “I know what you mean. Being a woman in what’s considered a male dominated field is tough. Add in a position of authority and it just compounds the problem.” She fiddled with the stethoscope hanging around her neck. “Can I ask you a question?”
Sin drank her espresso like a shot of booze. “Sure.”
“Where do you get all your self-confidence?” Dr. O’Rourke put her hands up as if to stop herself. “Let me rephrase that. I realize you’re a war hero and you’re beautiful, but you move and talk with an attitude that seems to be beyond even that. You command the space you’re in just by entering it. Have you always been like that?”
Sin combed her thick, black hair with her fingers as she thought about how to answer the question. She made eye contact with the doc and leaned forward as her posture stiffened. “I don’t know if you’ve heard any gossip about me or not, but when I was a teenager I had a reputation―a bad reputation―one I didn’t deserve. I physically became a woman at a young age, and the assholes around here began telling tales―lies―about my sexual exploits. I wanted nothing more than to leave this shithole and never come back.
“As my head matured to match my body, I decided to never let someone else’s opinion shape who I was on the inside. So,” Sin relaxed her shoulders and took a cleansing breath. “I decided to dress and act and talk in a way that made me feel comfortable, not in a way that made others comfortable.” She sat back and waved her hands from her head to her feet. “This, for good or bad, is the result of my decision.”
Dr. O’Rourke leaned forward and squeezed Sin’s hand. “Thank you,” she smiled.
“Boy, this shit is getting deep,” Sin said.
Dr. O’Rourke laughed to break the tension and looked at her watch. “It’s getting late and I still have a lot of paperwork to finish. It’s not that I’m not enjoying the conversation, but was there a reason you came to see me tonight?”
“That’s one of your qualities that I like,” Sin said. “You’re direct. Others probably think you’re a bitch, but I like it.”
Dr. O’Rourke blushed.
Sin leaned across the table as her expression turned serious. “I need your help.”
O’Rourke just stared at Sin
“Look, I’m not good at beating around the bush, so here it is. If you can’t do it or you’re uncomfortable just say so and I’ll . . .”
“For someone who doesn’t beat around the bush, you just beat the hell out of that one. Just ask.”
“I might need to get into the morgue and if I do, I need to do it without anyone knowing.”
Dr. O’Rourke sat her glass down. “That was unexpected. May I ask why?”
“You can ask, but I won’t tell you.”
“I would like to help, but I can’t―won’t―do anything that goes against my medical ethics,” Dr. O’Rourke said. She stood up and held out her hand. “It was a pleasure to see you again, Sin, and I appreciate your candidness, but I need to get back to my ‘paperless’ office. I will see you on Tuesday when you bring Thomas in for his appointment.”
Sin stood and took her hand. “I understand, and for what it’s worth, I hope we can be friends outside of here some day.”
“I’d like that. Listen, I hope there are no hard feelings, but this job is the only thing I have going on in my miserable life right now.” Dr. O’Rourke closed her eyes momentarily, before continuing, “The military brass wasn’t happy when I, a civilian, was placed in a position of authority. I’m being watched like a hawk.” She shrugged, “I’m sorry.”
Back in the lobby, Sin spotted a nurse talking to a distraught woman. The woman was crying hysterically and talking non-stop in Spanish.
The nurse was waving her hands in front of his face, shaking her head and repeating, “No habla Spaneesh.”
“Maybe I can help,” Sin said.
The nurse gladly let Sin interject. She spoke in Spanish to the woman and gave her a tissue to wipe her eyes. Turning her attention to the nurse, she said, “No habla Spaneesh? That’s the best you got?”
She shrugged. “I’ve been meaning to take a class, but I just haven’t found the time.”
Sin rolled her eyes. “You live in South Florida―find the time.”
The nurse huffed at Sin and stomped away. “Bitch,” she mumbled under her breath as she stormed away. Sin turned her attention back to the woman. She mentally translated her words into English while listening in Spanish.
“My name is Alejandra and I am from Nicaragua. My daughter left home four months ago and I have never heard from her.”
“Why did she come here?”
“We are poor, very poor, and I wanted a better life for my daughter. My Tia was sick and needed medical help.” Tears streamed down Alejandra’s cheeks. “I had no money to care for her. These men came and said they were from a church and would get her the care she needed.”
“And you just let them take her?”
“They promised to help me raise the money to join her.” Her upper body jerked up and down in utter despair. “I didn’t feel as if I had a choice,” she wailed.
I really need a filter, Sin thought, that was a shitty thing to say.
Sin reached out and held Alejandra close. “How did you get here,” she asked.
“I was able to sell everything I own, including my home, to raise the money for a ticket.”
“Why are you looking in a hospital? How did you know to come to Key West?” Sin had to stop herself from asking too many questions. They were just tumbling around her brain at breakneck speed.
Alejandra moved away from Sin and pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of her tattered dress. “This is where they told me they were bringing Tia.”
Sin knew what it was before she even unfolded it―a brochure for The Prophet Heap Orphanage for Girls.
“The lady there, Rosa, said they have never had any girls named Tia.” Alejandra’s rate of speech raced as she continued. “I was told to come here because some girls have been found . . .” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Her emotions short-circuited, and she fell into Sin’s arms, a puddle of despair.
As Sin tried to calm Alejandra, she saw Troy walk in. His complexion was pale and chalky.
She could see him try to put on a brave face as he neared. “What’s going on?” he asked.
Sin rehashed her conversation with Alejandra.
“I would like Alejandra to look through
pictures of all the girls who have been found to see if her daughter is among them.” She raised an eyebrow. “Any idea where I might get such pictures?”
Troy rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. “Give me a few minutes and I will see what I can do.”
Sin kept Alejandra company until Troy came back—carrying a file in his hand.
“The coroner had pictures of all the girls,” Troy said as he arrived.
Sin mouthed the words, ‘thank you.’
“Do me a favor,” she said, “and look through them and find the least offensive of each girl.”
Alejandra anxiously viewed the photos as Troy brought Sin up to speed on the latest body.
“Same M.O. as the others,” he said. “The forensic specialist was in the middle of his autopsy when I arrived.”
“Your first?”
“Nah,” he said running his hand through his hair, “just not something I ever get used to. That’s some sick shit.” He wiped the perspiration from his brow with a paper towel.
“The autopsy?”
“No,” he exclaimed, “the stuff the doc said happened to the girl.”
He told Sin what she already knew from seeing the pictures back in D.C.
Alejandra handed the photos back to Sin; her posture showing a hint of relief. She spoke in Spanish as she handed the pictures back.
“What is she saying?” Troy asked.
Sin looked at him incredulously. “You too,” she said. “You no speaky Spaneesh?”
“I took it in high school, but not really.”
Sin just mumbled under her breath. “Alejandra said Tia wasn’t one of the girls. She also said she would pray for the girls and their families.”
“I’m glad Tia wasn’t one of the girls fished out of the water here,” Troy said, “but that doesn’t tell us what happened to her.”
“No it doesn’t,” Sin said. Her eyes sparkled as a thought came to her. She asked Alejandra if she had a recent picture of Tia.
“Si.” Alejandra searched in her bag and handed Sin a photo of her daughter.
Sin studied it. In the picture, Tia looked to be around nine years old. Even at that age, she was beautiful. “How old is Tia?” Sin asked.
“She is fourteen,” Alejandra answered.
The picture was old, but it would have to do, Sin thought. She handed it to Troy and asked if he could get the State Police to run it as an Amber Alert.
“I don’t think that should be a problem,” he said taking the photo.
“Ask the nurse over there if she will make a copy of it for you,” she said. “I’d like to have one also.”
“Will do, but what do we do with her,” he asked, glancing at Alejandra.
“I will call Carmelita and see if she can stay with her. I’m sure she won’t mind in view of the circumstances.”
After Carmelita arrived, Sin said goodbye to Alejandra and told her she would do everything she could to find her daughter.
Sin was quiet as Troy drove her home. “Earth to Sin,” he said.
“Sorry,” she said, “it’s just been a long day—a lot to think about.”
Troy exhaled through pursed lips. “Yeah, I know.”
He pulled his truck into Sin’s driveway and looked at her. “You spent some time in Central America, right?”
Sin was taken aback. “Yeah, what’s your point?”
“No point,” he said. “I was just wondering if you ever heard of any girls being taken from their homes or going missing, that’s all.”
Sin turned in her seat, so she was facing him. “Troy, this stuff you’re witnessing isn’t new. Girls and boys go ‘missing’ not only in Central America but from all over the world—even in our own country―all the time. Slavery didn’t end with the Emancipation Proclamation. It just shifted from Africans being bought and sold for cheap labor to these young people being bought and sold for sex.” Sin opened the door of the truck. “I’m not saying that’s what is happening here, but if it smells like a fish and tastes like a fish, it’s probably a fish.”
She didn’t wait for him to respond, she just stepped out of the truck and headed for the front door. “Good night, Troy,” she called over her shoulder. “Call me tomorrow.”
25
An hour later, Sin was sitting across from Charlie in the library of the Johnson place. She held a cigarette in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other as she watched him hunt and peck on the keyboard.
“After all the conspiracy theories you have hunted down, you would think you’d be a better typist by now.”
He kept his head down, index fingers pecking away. “Eat shit and die,” he mumbled.
Hearing Charlie’s comment, a teeth baring smile surfaced on Sin’s face.
With one final peck, Charlie looked up at Sin and with his eyes he guided her to the wall monitor. She turned to face the screen as he tapped the enter key.
Pictures of all of the dead girls filled the first monitor. A record of Veloz’s activities in the past year flooded the second and the third screen showed a detailed schematic of the Church of the New Son.
Charlie pointed to the second screen. “I was able to dig up some of Veloz’s activities through some of my ‘unofficial sources.’ ” He glanced back at Sin. “So where do we begin?”
Sin ground the butt of her cigarette in the onyx ashtray and pointed at the first screen. “Can you check your super spy stuff and if see if any of these girls have been reported missing?” Charlie nodded and tapped at his keyboard. “While you’re at it, can you scan this picture into the database and see if you get any hits?”
Sin handed him a copy of Tia’s picture.
“Hits as in . . .”
“As in—has she turned up in any morgue as a Jane Doe in the past few months?”
Fifteen minutes later, Charlie had some preliminary results. “It will take a few hours to run a complete review of all of the files, but based on these results I’m doubtful any of these girls will show up.”
“Why’s that?”
“You know as well as I do, the people that run these slave rings make sure they cover their tracks.”
Sin lit another cigarette. “You think their parents were killed.”
“Or bought off. Either way, no one is looking for them,” Charlie said. “The fact that Alejandra was able to get up enough money and come looking for her daughter was a miracle.”
“Right now a miracle is what I need, she mumbled. “Okay,” she said, “screen two. What’s my old friend been up to since I last saw him?”
“Same ole’ shit,” Charlie said. “He’s holed up in an abandoned condominium in Puerto Cabezas―a small port city on the Caribbean side of the country. No one has seen him in the past six months, but the place is under heavy guard and intel says he’s there.”
“Who’s intel?” Sin asked.
“Ours—the U.S.”
“Why are we watching him?”
“He is now one to watch on the government’s terrorist list and his name seems to be shooting up the charts.”
“I’ll be damned.”
“I think you had a lot to do with that,” Charlie said. “You exposed him and brought his dealing into the light.”
“A lot of fucking good that did,” Sin said. “He’s free and living in a freakin’ condominium.”
“It’s abandoned,” Charlie said. “I’m not sure if he’s living or hiding.”
“Why is he there any way? With his money, he could live anywhere.”
“That depends on who you’re listening to,” Charlie said. “Our side says he’s sick and he doesn’t want anyone to see him in his current state.”
“And the other side?”
Charlie grinned. “They say he has been planning something big and he doesn’t want to be sidetracked or disturbed.”
Sin stood up and moved closer to the screen. “What kind of big are you talking?”
“Word on the street says he is moving away from drugs and girls and is about to p
ut his hand in the black market weapons ring.”
“Does Westcott know this?”
“I’m sure he does,” Charlie answered.
“Then why the hell hasn’t he moved in. Veloz is like a sitting duck waiting to be plucked.”
“You know the game, Sinclair. Sometimes it’s best to wait and see if this fish can be used as bait to bag an even bigger one.”
“Those pricks,” Sin yelled. “They know where to find Veloz and they know what damage he can do, but—nothing!”
Charlie shook his head. “That’s why I got out of the game. Too many people jumping beds. You never know who is sleeping with who?”
Sin stared at the monitor. “Do you have any surveillance photos of Veloz?”
“Funny you should ask,” Charlie responded. “Even though he hasn’t left the building, he does venture onto the balcony to smoke.” He tapped the keyboard and pulled up a grainy video.
“Hell, that could be anybody,” Sin said.
“Typical woman,” Charlie groaned. “Hold on and I will make it all pretty.”
A few minutes later, the video repixelated and showed a clear picture of Veloz. Charlie sat back and admired his handiwork.
Sin watched and rewatched the two minute video at least a dozen times. He still walks with a limp from our last encounter, she thought. That could definitely work in my favor.
Sin checked her watch. “Let’s take a look at the schematic of the church. I want to hit it tonight.”
“Why tonight?”
“Sunday night is the best night to hit a church,” Sin replied. “Everyone that works there is tired from the big show they put on earlier in the day, even Heap’s hired help will be sketchy at best.”
Charlie smiled. “I like the way you think, Sinclair.”
Sin blushed at the compliment.
They spent the next two hours going over entry, route, and exit. They spent the most time on a contingency plan in case anything went wrong.
Sin watched as Charlie filled a small waterproof fanny-pack with implements you’d see on an episode of CSI. “Walk me through what you’re doing,” Sin said.
