One time we were walking to the drug store. We needed female stuff and they wanted a female to figure out what to buy. I saw a cop on our way to the store. He was about fifty, sixty feet away from us. I was thinking about breaking away from Buggy, screaming to the cop to help me when I felt something sharp poke me in the side. I might have been invisible, but that knife pressing against my back was as real as anything.
They don’t let me out much anymore. That’s fine. It’s hard being outside. I see people on the street and they look so happy, couples and whatever, just people living their lives. One time I saw a girl about my age walking with her parents. She looked at me and I swear it was the first time I felt noticed out there. Our eyes locked for a long time. What was a girl like me doing with those two creepy men? I could tell she was trying to figure it out. Make sense of us. Good luck with that! If I can’t make sense of us, what chance did she have?
Girls Like Me by Nadine Jessup
There were girls like me chained inside a home somewhere in Cleveland.
Held against their will by a sick man.
I saw them on the news before I became one of them.
I judged them. I admit it now. I judged them.
I said, Why didn’t you break a window?
Why didn’t you run? Why didn’t you scream?
Because my voice was gone, I know the girls would say.
Because my strength was gone.
Because my courage was gone.
Because my soul was gone.
Almost everything about me was gone.
Almost.
One thing remained.
One thing.
It was hope.
My hope wasn’t gone.
It never left me.
It was the blanket covering me at night as I slept.
Hope is what keeps me breathing.
CHAPTER 26
Angie slipped on a dark frontrunner jacket, a wind- and water-resistant piece of athletic wear she favored, and made sure she had three things with her before leaving the relative safety of her car—her car keys (right jacket pocket), her pepper spray (left jacket pocket), and her TASER C2 (in a side holster hidden by the jacket). She loaded it with one live cartridge that had a range of fifteen feet. The law didn’t require a special license, but she’d made sure she had proper training on how to use the weapon. She’d bought it three years ago for self-defense purposes only, and thankfully had never made a discharge.
Tonight she hoped to continue that streak.
Angie stretched her stiff, aching legs, scanned the area, and saw nothing troublesome. She turned and gave Mike a big thumbs-up, then gestured toward the alley. No way to see if Mike could see her, so she called him. “I’m going down that alley.”
“Yeah, I figured that’s what pointing to the alley meant,” Mike said. “Keep that phone on. If there’s trouble, call the cops.”
“If there’s trouble, I’m going to need my hands free to defend myself,” Angie said. “I’ll be fine. Back in a minute.”
The alley between the brick apartment building and auto repair place was barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side. Bits of litter spotted the dirt-covered ground. Unlike the front, there weren’t any windows at ground level. She came around back and gave the area a quick once-over. The two sets of buildings were nestled closely together and formed a second alleyway, too narrow for cars to pass, running perpendicular to the alley she had just left.
It was dark, but nearby street lamps provided enough light for Angie to make her way. The windows on the back of the building started at the second story. A steel fire escape stretched to the top, though it wouldn’t do much good with the bars on all the windows.
She noticed concrete steps descending a few feet below ground level to a metal door. It had to be a basement entrance, and she fought the temptation to give the handle a turn. Any living quarters below ground didn’t have natural light.
Angie couldn’t be certain this was the building Fedora and Markovich had entered. Other buildings back there had other concrete stairs leading to other metal doors. She took another look around. The street sounds so audible on the front side of the building were absent, and the quiet unnerved her.
She hesitated, then settled on a plan and descended the concrete steps to the door that was painted some shade of green. A trickle of fear passed through her, but she pushed it aside. Her gut instinct told her leave. Her curiosity told her to try the handle. Angie grasped the silver knob in her right hand and gave it a turn. Locked. She put her ear to the door and gave a listen. No sound. She went back up the stairs and looked left and right. Nothing. No sign of anyone.
The perfect stillness broke when she heard the creak of a hinge directly behind her. Soon a triangle of light cut through the darkness and lit the ground at her feet. The triangle widened as the green door opened all the way. Angie spun on her heels, her eyes growing wide. The shadow of a hulking man loomed in the doorway. The sight of him momentarily stopped her breathing. Shadows and a flat-rim baseball cap hid the large man’s face. He lumbered out from the entranceway, followed closely by the man in the fedora.
“Whatcha you doing back here?” The big man spoke in a deep baritone, threatening in every way.
Angie retreated a few steps, but Fedora ascended the stairs, moving with startling quickness, and wasted no time encroaching on her personal space. She thought of running, but doubted she would win a footrace. Days of surveillance work did not enhance one’s physical conditioning.
Angie’s next thought was of her TASER. A flick of the wrist, and she could clear her holster and get off a shot that would drop Fedora in a blink. But the big man would come at her fast and hard. She knew to control herself. An uncalculated reaction could prove costly.
Fedora looked her over, a smirk on his face. His hand reached toward her cheek, but Angie pulled away.
“Whoa, Casper, we got ourselves a real live wire here.”
Casper. Nothing friendly or ghostly about him, thought Angie.
Casper moved forward, but not all the way up the stairs.
Good. Angie had a few steps on him.
“I’m looking for my friend,” she said. “I think I have the wrong address.”
“You have the wrong address for sure,” Fedora said.
She backed up a step, but Fedora seized her wrist with the speed of a viper’s strike, squeezed hard, and pulled her toward him. Off kilter, she stumbled, but soon regained balance. In the light from the open basement door, Angie noticed a beer bottle on the ground near her feet and within reach.
She twisted her arm and managed to free herself from Fedora’s grasp. “Don’t touch me again.”
Something darkened in Fedora’s eyes. He had a thin, wiry build, but Angie knew not to underestimate his strength or speed, or ignore any possible weapons. His bowling shirt was loose-fitting, and could conceal a gun the same way Angie’s jacket hid her TASER.
Keenly aware that any outward signs of fear would be taken as weakness, she kept herself in check as best she could, hoping they couldn’t sense the terror that smashed against her ribs. She gathered her wits.
When Fedora grabbed her wrist once again, she didn’t pull away. He would have expected her to try and get free, lean back, twist her arm, that sort of thing. He seemed pleased with her submission. It was his first mistake.
“What are you protecting here?” Angie asked. The bravado in her voice surprised even her.
Anger flared in Fedora’s eyes as he pulled her toward him. She went willingly.
It was his second mistake.
He put his face close enough for Angie to smell onions on his breath. “My business is none of your business.” He spoke with the hint of a Latin accent. It was a hard voice, perfectly suited to the gritty Baltimore streets.
Casper propped the door open with a brick and lumbered up the stairs, taking up roost behind Fedora.
A new figure soon appeared in the doorway, this one slender, female. Not Nad
ine. But she could have been Nadine.
“What’s going on?” the girl asked. She had an accent, too, but hers was noticeably foreign.
Angie pegged it for Eastern European and asked, “Who are you?”
It was hard to see the face because of shadows, but the girl’s mannerisms were decidedly unsure. Arms folded, straddle stance with one leg forward the other back, it appeared as if she might go in either direction.
Fedora squeezed Angie’s wrist hard. “Get back inside,” he snapped at the girl.
The girl shifted position and the light caught her face just right, giving Angie her first good look. She placed the girl’s age somewhere between seventeen and twenty, in part because of her long hair straight hair and unblemished, angular face. She wore a tight blue dress appropriate for any strip club dancer.
“Are you okay?” Angie asked.
The girl hesitated. “Yes, yes. I’m fine. You should go away.” The girl sank back into the basement room.
Angie knew better than to ask about Nadine. Any mention of her name could get her moved or placed in greater danger.
Fedora curled his top lip into a snarl. “This here ain’t your business, puta.”
“Then I’ll go,” Angie said.
“No. I don’t think you will.”
Angie heard a click and caught sight of a flash of steel as it unfolded from the switchblade case in his hand.
Fedora’s two earlier mistakes were still in play. He had underestimated Angie, and by keeping her close to his body, he couldn’t see her hand moving. Casper didn’t have a clear view, either.
With quick hands, Angie drew her weapon and fired. A square-shaped cartridge exploded from the front end of the TASER. The prongs pinned Fedora’s flimsy shirt to his skin just to the right of his stomach. He moaned as if he was in the midst of a nightmare and dropped to the ground, his body shaking violently.
Casper lunged forward, hurdling Fedora’s spastic form with his arms outstretched.
Angie had taken enough self-defense and martial arts classes to have one tactical doctrine drilled into reflex—if your opponent is looking you in the eyes, attack from below. Her kick was swift and on target. She caught Casper mid-stride and her shin compressed something soft and exceedingly pliable between his legs.
He let out a howl unlike any she had ever heard and dropped next to Fedora, who was moaning incoherently on the ground. The strike had incapacitated Casper and gave Angie a chance to retrieve her pepper spray.
The canister was hot pink in color, but nothing about its contents was “girlie.” 1.4 percent concentration of capsaicinoids, the active ingredient in chili peppers, was enough to take down a bear. Not much wind, so she didn’t have to worry about blowback. She bent down and gave a blast to Casper’s face.
Pepper spray, an inflammatory agent, stings the eyes and makes the skin feel like it’s melting. The pain in Casper’s groin was probably a tickle compared to the burn he felt. His howls continued until Angie reached for the bottle near her feet and brought it down on his head. The bottle didn’t shatter, but the blow silenced the giant of a man.
She holstered her TASER, leapt over the two fallen men and dashed down the alley at a sprinter’s pace. She listened as best she could for footsteps coming up behind her. It was hard to hear anything above the blood pounding in her ears.
She spilled out of the alley, her body off-kilter, and motioned frantically for Mike to get out of there and fast. At least she hoped that was what her wild arm movements had conveyed. She didn’t dare glance over her shoulder in Mike’s direction, so had no way of knowing if he understood her gestures.
Angie had kept her car keys accessible and managed to fish them from her jacket pocket without breaking stride. She got the door open and the key inserted into the ignition in a matter of seconds.
Mike pulled out of his parking spot with a screech of tires and sped ahead. No wellness checks. He was learning that go means go. They would catch up later.
Angie started her car and jammed the steering wheel hard left. The 3.5 liter V-6 engine whined as if protesting her heavy foot on the gas pedal. She pulled out fast, no checks in her mirrors.
An approaching car slammed on its brakes and went into a skid just as Casper stumbled out of the alley.
Angie straightened the wheel and floored the accelerator once more. Her car picked up speed as she risked a check in her rearview mirror. Casper stood in the middle of the road, blocking the car that had swerved to avoid hitting her. He was in a horse stance. Hands out in front of him.
Angie heard a pop, followed by another. Gunfire, though his shots were off target because of the pepper spray. She ducked low and drove blindly for a few moments—anything more and she was sure to hit something. She poked her head back up in time to see a right turn coming up fast.
She hit the gas when another pop sounded. Nothing shattered, but a loud ding suggested the metal on her car had been punctured. Her tires skidded, but she made the turn, miraculously without colliding into anything.
Angie straightened the wheel and sped away.
CHAPTER 27
Angie and Mike didn’t stop driving until they were out of Baltimore. They weren’t taking any chances. Getting out of the city, and fast, was the sensible thing to do.
The question remained, was Nadine somewhere inside that apartment building? Communicating via cell phone, Angie and Mike pulled into a McDonald’s off I-695. The first thing Mike did was give Angie a big hug. The first thing Angie did was to check her car for bullet holes. She found one by the right rear fender. That pepper spray had probably saved her life.
Angie had briefed Mike about the two men she took down, but once seated at a table with coffees in front of them, she went over the terrifying encounter in more detail.
Mike’s mouth fell open as a reverent look spread across his face. “That’s like Black Widow stuff.”
Angie’s eyebrows arched. “A spider? I nearly got killed back there and you’re comparing me to a spider?”
“No, not a spider,” Mike said, almost in disgust. “More like Natasha Romanova, expert spy, deadly assassin, KGB trained, top agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.”
Angie looked a little annoyed . . . or exasperated. Either way, she had no time for his shenanigans. “Mike, is this some sort comic book thing?”
“Haven’t you seen an Avengers movie?”
“No. I haven’t.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “You work too much, Ange. You got to get out more often. Anyway, I just compared you to Scarlett Johansson, who plays Black Widow in the movies.”
Angie looked pleased. “Well, you should have just said that.”
“In all seriousness, how are you doing? That was pretty intense.”
Angie breathed deeply and let out a long exhale. “Yeah, I’d say. I’m going to try very hard to never have an experience like that again. But I’m okay. Really.”
“What’s your take on all this?”
“My take is Nadine could be there.” Angie gave Mike a rundown of her thinking. They had tailed Markovich—the last person to be seen with Nadine—to an apartment building with bars on the windows and two vicious men guarding the rear entrance. Other men had been on the scene, like the two Tweedles in business suits.
But most telling of all was the girl. Impossible for Angie to know if she was being sold to men like the Tweedles, but it was certainly a possibility. What wasn’t a question was the fear Angie had seen in the girl’s eyes. The guards could easily explain the girl’s nervousness, but what exactly were they watching over?
Mike mulled it over. “So what do we do?”
“Somehow, we have to get inside.”
“Right, by calling the cops.”
Angie returned a skeptical look. “Thin Blue Discount, remember? I want to know that Nadine is there before we give up control.”
“Girls might be in danger and we’re keeping tight-lipped? Doesn’t sit well with me, Ange. Gotta be honest here.”
; “I get it Mike, I do. But hear me out. When I first opened my agency, I got a case with a girl a lot like Nadine. I don’t talk about it because it’s just too upsetting.” Angie did look upset. This was picking a scab that never healed, uncovering a very dark memory. “I traced her to a motel where I thought she was being prostituted. Her name was Elise and she was nineteen. She had a drug problem and issues at home, but her parents loved her and had hired me to find her, which I did. I got recorded evidence of different men coming and going from her motel room, enough for me to call the cops. When they showed up, her pimp, a guy named Ruben McDonald, barricaded the room and refused to come out. It turned into a hostage standoff that ended up a murder-suicide.”
“Geez, Ange. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“That’s because I don’t talk about it. It upsets me when I do. Maybe if I hadn’t called the police, if I’d gotten to Elise somehow, if I could have talked to her, maybe I could have gotten her away from that monster. I don’t know.” Angie drank her coffee. “I just don’t want the same thing to happen to Nadine. I want a chance to get her away from Markovich if at all possible.”
Mike looked skeptical. “About you doing a stakeout . . . um, I kind of think your cover has been blown. I mean, you did tase one of those guys, and you kicked the other one in the nuts. I think they’re going to remember you.”
Angie chuckled. “Yeah, that’s why I want you to get in there.”
Mike recoiled as if he’d been the one tased. “Me? I don’t want to go in there.”
“Well of course you don’t. And I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want to go in either. But you have to find out if she’s inside.”
Forgive Me Page 16
