But her stomach settled and she was able to think again.
Wanting to get rid of the stench, and knowing she wouldn’t want to touch it once she was showered, she grabbed some cleaning products and towel from beneath the sink and set to work cleaning up the pile of vomit. She twisted her face away as she scooped it into a bag, trying to breathe shallowly through her mouth. Her stomach still wasn’t completely right, her throat still burning from the stomach acid. She didn’t want to be sick again.
When the floor was clean, she dumped the bag in the trash, reminding herself to take it out later, and then headed to the bathroom.
She reached out to switch on the shower, and noted how badly her hand shook. Was the shaking the result of the drugs, or caused by the emotional trauma she’d been through? She thought it was probably a combination of both.
The water hit the bottom of the tub. Lily peeled off her clothes and, on trembling legs, climbed beneath the shower. She didn’t have the energy to stand, so instead sank down, sitting on the porcelain, allowing the shower to drum over her head and shoulders. She couldn’t believe it was over between her and Monster. She knew it was stupid to be upset about the relationship considering everything he’d done, but for some reason she couldn’t get her head around it. Was it the lack of closure? The fact she hadn’t seen this coming? In her mind, it had only been a matter of hours ago that he’d been holding her in bed after they’d made love, and then she’d woken up here.
Something occurred to her. He must have known what he was planning when he’d had sex with her the previous night—if, in fact, only one night had passed. She didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious. Had the sex been his way of saying goodbye? She sought her mind for anything different, any level of intensity she might have missed. But their love-making had always been intense. He hadn’t done anything to make her think he was planning anything like this, though he had asked her again to return to the States for her own safety. She’d told him she couldn’t go back to living her old life, especially with him not in it. She’d told him she loved him, and would never leave, whatever happened.
Had those been the words that had secured her fate?
Lily soaped herself down, and washed her hair, and brushed her teeth. The sensation that she was walking around in a dream never left her, but she didn’t know if it was the result of the drugs, or of everything that had happened over the past few weeks. She’d never imagined she would see this place again—she’d figured she’d end up dead before she did—and a part of her had mentally stored this apartment away in the same place she’d stored the old Lily.
Climbing out of the shower, she grabbed a towel and hurriedly dried herself. She selected smart clothes, unconsciously choosing those similar to the ones Monster had provided for her—grey pants and a shirt—and then began to pick up her apartment. If the police wanted to come back with her, perhaps to check her story, or something else she hadn’t thought of, she didn’t want to have to explain the mess. That she’d done this herself embarrassed her now. She wasn’t some teenage boy unable to control their anger. Since when had she been the type of person to smash up their own belongings?
Lily looked around at all the broken glass, broken crockery, and splintered picture frames, and her heart sank.
She couldn’t believe she’d been responsible for such destruction. What the hell had she been thinking? At least she didn’t have to worry about Monster watching her through any hidden cameras now. There was no way any would have survived her anger.
With everything as tidy as she could make it, though the place now looked empty and impersonal with most of the pictures and trinkets broken and in the trash, she grabbed her jacket. She’d lost her purse, together with her keys and phone, when she’d been snatched, but she had a spare front door key in a drawer in the kitchen. Remembering some cash she’d kept in an empty tin in the cupboard, she opened the cabinet door and pulled down all the cans of beans and tomatoes, until she reached the right one. Thankfully, the bills were all still folded inside. At least she’d be able to grab a cab downtown to the station.
Keeping her head down, Lily let herself out of her apartment. She felt horribly self-conscious, not wanting to bump into anyone who might recognize her, though, by the way her neighbor was talking, half the city would know who she was. She’d always been someone to keep a low profile, and the idea of people spotting her and talking about her behind the backs of their hands filled her with a sickening dread. She liked being invisible, and right now she felt like she had a spotlight above her head.
She stepped out of her building, and a wave of vertigo hit her, the ground seeming to shift beneath her feet, so she put out her hands to steady herself. It was mid-morning, and the streets of Los Angeles were busy and loud. Workmen across the street yelled instructions to one another. A pneumatic drill hammered, pummeling her eardrums. The tall buildings on both sides of the street rose fathomlessly into the sky, and just their height caused dizziness to wash over her again. Vehicles drove, bumper to bumper, in both directions, and someone blasted on their horn, making her jump and clutch a hand to her chest. Even the air smelled wrong, filled with chemicals and pollution.
Someone bumped into her as they walked past, though she had no recollection of stepping onto the sidewalk. “Hey, watch it, miss,” the man snapped.
She stood, panting and frozen, trying to resist the urge to turn and bolt back into her apartment and lock the door behind her. Would that be her fate now? She’d been forced out of one prison, only to lock herself up in another of her own making?
An ache of longing for Monster filled her chest. She wished he was with her. If he’d been by her side, she’d be stronger. She didn’t want to go through life on her own, not anymore.
Lily took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together. Her desire to run and hide didn’t leave her, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to live that way. After everything she’d been through, she was stronger than that, better than that. She could do this.
The light of a yellow taxicab shone from down the street. She lifted a hand and managed to flag the cab down.
The vehicle pulled over and she climbed in the back. “Nearest police station, please.”
The driver—a young man—lifted his gaze to the rear view mirror and made contact with hers. His eyes narrowed. “Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?”
She shook her head, allowing her dark hair to fall over her face, and turned to the window. “I’ve just got one of those faces. Just drive, please.”
Thankfully, the young man gave a shrug and let the matter drop. He pulled back out into the traffic, and made no further attempt to talk to her.
For that, at least, Lily was thankful. She still wasn’t completely sure what she was going to tell the police.
The truth, a voice spoke in her head. You have to tell them the truth.
She did. She owed it to all the girls who had been taken, and all the girls who still had that terrible fate in their futures. If she did nothing, she was as bad as the traffickers.
And what about Monster?
He didn’t deserve her protection either. Perhaps before, but not now. He should have known better.
She would tell the police everything. Chances were they wouldn’t bother to go all the way to Cuba to try to track down Monster. After all, what could she tell them? All she knew was he was somewhere in Cuba and his name was Monster, but he’d renamed himself Merrick. They’d think she’d hit her head too hard, or was still being affected by the drugs. They didn’t need to know about his business, and she could deny all knowledge of that herself. If she told them he’d had a birthmark, which she’d worked on, and then she’d been drugged and sent back to America, there was no reason for the police to think she’d learned anything about what he did. But she could tell them every detail about the events leading up to meeting Monster. She could tell them she’d believed herself to be kept in a shipping container at a port, and that she didn’t think she�
�d traveled any more than a few hours from Los Angeles.
The cab pulled over and she looked out at the big square building and sign of the Los Angeles Police Department. Leaning forward, she paid the driver and then climbed from the vehicle. A number of police cars were parked outside the building, and the American flag waved at the top of a pole, joining the tall palms outside.
She took a breath to steady her nerves and then walked to the door and pushed inside the building.
The desk sergeant was filling in paperwork as she approached. She waited until he looked up, and the faintest hint of a smile touched his lips before he frowned slightly. He recognized her face, she was sure, but couldn’t quite place her.
“Can I help you?”
“Umm, yes,” she said, stepping forward. “I’m here about a missing person.”
“You want to report a missing person?”
“Not exactly. I am the missing person.”
His frown deepened. “You are?”
“My name is Lily Drayton.”
As soon as she said her name, his eyes widened in surprise. “I need to call the detective who’s in charge of your case.” He ducked his head lower and leaned forward. “Honestly, ma’am, we all thought you were dead.”
She gave a grim smile. “So everyone keeps telling me.”
The police officer picked up the phone and twisted away from her in his seat. He spoke in low tones, glancing back to her and offering her another close-lipped smile, before hanging up.
“Detective O’Bannon will be right with you.”
“Thanks,” she said.
She took a seat to wait, nervously fiddling with the cuff of her shirt, and trying not to make eye contact with anyone else in the room.
Within a few minutes, an older man, in his sixties, Lily guessed, and probably not far from retirement, strode forward. She noted the detective’s badge on his chest.
“Come through to my office, please.” His tone was stern, and he made no attempt to smile or comment about how she was supposed to be six feet under, like everyone else had. He didn’t even wait for her response, but just turned and walked back down the corridor.
Lily hurried after him. He turned right and headed into an office. He stood back, holding the door open for her as she walked through.
“You don’t seem surprised to see me,” she said as she walked past him.
His already thin lips twisted. “Someone called ahead.”
“Oh?” It was her turn to be surprised.
“A neighbor called your sudden reappearance in.”
Damn it. The guy from down the hall. What the hell had he said?
The detective shut the door behind her and then nodded to the chair on the opposite side of his desk. “Please, take a seat, Miss Drayton. You know a lot of people have been looking for you.”
“I know. I would have contacted you sooner, but I only just got back to my apartment.”
His eyebrows lifted. “And there weren’t phones where you were?”
“No! I was kidnapped!”
“By a bad boyfriend?”
Confusion swept over her, and she shook her head. “A boyfriend? What, no. Why would you—” And then she realized what was going on.
“My neighbor told you that, didn’t he?”
“He said he heard screaming and sounds of violence from your apartment, and went to check it out. Apparently you were in a bit of a state, and refused to let him in. He said the place was all smashed up, and that he thought the boyfriend was still in the apartment.”
She lifted a hand. “Let me stop you there. That’s only what I told him. I didn’t want him knowing my business, so I lied.”
The detective studied her closely. “Your apartment wasn’t smashed up?”
She sighed. “Yes, yes it was, but I did it myself.”
His white eyebrows drew together and down. “You smashed up your place?”
“I was angry after everything I’d been through.”
It was his turn to sigh, and he sat back in his seat and folded his hands over his stomach. “So tell me exactly what you went through.”
She already felt like she was on the losing team. What was it about her that had made him not believe her? Had he seen it too many times—women running off with unsuitable guys and wasting police time? She hated that this might be true, especially if those women were like her and leaving hadn’t exactly been their decision.
Lily took a breath and started. “I left work like normal on a Friday evening a few weeks ago—I couldn’t tell you exactly how many weeks because I’ve kind of lost track of the days, but it would be close to when I was first reported missing.” She thought of something and frowned. “Who did report me missing?”
“One of your work colleagues,” he told her. He leaned forward and checked his notes. “An Elaine Lewis?”
Lily nodded; she knew who that was.
“She called because she was worried after you didn’t show up two days in a row and hadn’t called in.” He paused and looked up. “Please, continue.”
Lily took a breath, bringing back the memories of everything that had happened with a twist inside her gut. “When I approached my car in the parking garage beneath the building where I work, a woman with a baby stepped out of the shadows, asking for help. She was crying and looked awful. I tried to help her, but a man was there, and he hit me and threw me into the trunk of his car.”
“A woman with a baby?” he interrupted, and checked his notes. “We didn’t get any reports of a woman with a baby being hurt.”
Lily shook her head. “It was a set-up. The woman had been put there, knowing I’d try to help her. The thing I thought was a baby was actually a doll.”
His bushy eyebrows lifted again. “A doll?”
“Yes, I saw it hit the ground just after I hit the floor myself.”
He scribbled something down and then looked back up at her. “Continue.”
“I was semi-conscious, but I don’t think I was in the trunk for more than a couple of hours. The next thing I know, I’m being thrown into a shipping container with five other women.”
“You don’t know how many weeks you’ve been missing, but you know you were only in the trunk for a couple of hours?”
“No, I’m not completely sure. But I know I was taken when it was night, and it wasn’t daylight when he opened the trunk again.” Lily remembered something. “A black BMW! The car the man took me in was a black BMW.”
“How do you know this?”
“It was the only other car present in the parking garage. It must have been the one they moved me to.”
“But you said you were unconscious. How can you know for sure?”
She shook her head, feeling helpless. “I can’t. I’m just trying to tell you what I know.” Sudden tears pricked the backs of her eyes and she blinked them away, not wanting the detective to think she was over-emotional and unable to be a strong witness. She took a breath and leaned forward, making eye contact with the man and forcing herself to hold it. “The men who took me were sex traffickers. The main guy was big, with a wide forehead, deep set eyes, and a nose that looked like it had been broken too many times. He stank of cigarette smoke all the time. The man working with him was skinny and had bulging eyes like you’d see in someone with a thyroid problem, or something. They were perverted, sick bastards who are still out there, doing what they do. You need to find them and stop them!”
“You’ve been gone for over a month, Miss Drayton. Are you saying you’ve been held in a shipping container all this time?”
This was it; she would have to tell him about Monster.
She shook her head. “No, they had a buyer for me. I was sent to Cuba for a man who didn’t want me for sex.”
Her cheeks colored at the word.
“No?” His eyebrows lifted again in that disbelieving way that made her want to reach across the desk and slap him. “What did he want you for, then?”
Lily pressed her palms together
to keep control of herself. “He has—had—a birthmark on his face. He wanted me to get rid of it.”
“This is hell of a story.”
She slammed her hands down on the wooden surface of the desk. “It isn’t a god-damned story. It’s the truth!”
“Control yourself, please, Miss Drayton.”
She sat back and looked down. “Sorry,” she muttered, even though she wasn’t. Why the hell wasn’t this asshole taking her seriously?
“So, you were taken by sex traffickers, and sent to a man in Cuba who wanted you to remove a birthmark that had been bothering him. What happened then?”
“I did what he asked and he sent me back to America.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes, just like that.”
He pressed his lips together and steepled his fingers against his mouth. “And this man wouldn’t also happen to be the bad boyfriend, would he, now?”
Her cheeks flared with fresh heat and she stared down at the desk. He’d know if she lied.
“He and I did end up having a relationship, yes, but initially I was taken against my will. Please believe me.”
“Why didn’t you contact anyone back in America? Why didn’t you let anyone know you were safe?”
She shook her head. “I should have. I didn’t think … So much had happened.”
Detective O’Bannon pulled himself closer to the desk and picked up a pen and paper. “So, what’s this man’s name so we can contact him and verify your story?”
“His name …” She hesitated. “He only ever gave me one name, and that was Merrick.”
“Merrick?”
She nodded.
“And where in Cuba were you?”
“I don’t know. He never let me leave the property.”
“So I’m supposed to track down a man whose name is Merrick, who lives somewhere in Cuba?”
“No, you’re supposed to track down the god-damned traffickers right here in America who are probably still taking women to sell to perverts!”
He cleared his throat and set his pen back down before looking back up at her, his eyebrows raised. “Miss Drayton, you understand that wasting police time and giving misleading information to the police are all things you can be charged for?”
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