Rory felt his stomach lurch, dropped his half-eaten sandwich, stood and grabbed his coat from his desk chair, and headed for the front door.
Mark grabbed him by his arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m going to try to save her. I’ve seen what happens in there ….”
“We’ve got a whole SWAT team in there, Rory. She’ll be fine.”
Rory turned, anger making his heart race. “What if she isn’t?”
“We’ll send John in, or I’ll go. You and Carlos are marked targets already. You can’t go in there.”
“I don’t really care. Carlos has a family; I understand why he can’t go. I’ve got no one. I’m going, and you better not stop me.”
John had already put his coat on and headed out behind Rory. “Let him go, Mark, I’ll go with him. You need to stay here.”
Rory had never seen a SWAT team in operation. When he and John arrived, a swarm of masked men stood like a barricade in full black gear wearing boots and helmets and bearing machine guns, blocking their way.
“We’re with the FBI, on your side,” Rory said, trying to push his way past two burly SWAT guys towering over him. Up close, they almost looked like aliens. But Rory was not afraid. He was on a mission.
John obviously knew better than to think they could somehow persuade them, and grabbed his partner, wrapping a beefy arm around his chest, holding him back. “They’ve got orders, Rory. Let’s try to find Steele.”
Rory thought his heart would burst out of his chest; he could literally feel his blood pressure rising. I’ve got to save her. There was no time to reason why this one thought kept resounding throughout his being like a siren blaring inside him, drowning out all other thoughts and feelings.
He pushed John’s arm away and pressed forward until he felt the cold metal of a gun barrel against his face. I’ve got to save her ….
And then he saw her.
Two SWAT team members on either side ushered her toward the waiting ambulance just ahead of them. She was wrapped from her head down in a thick gray blanket; she kept her eyes downcast, and just a few red curls revealed her identity. More women wrapped in similar blankets were being escorted behind her into other waiting ambulances and police cars.
“Susan!” Rory shouted her name, the gun barrel still holding him back, but she couldn’t hear him with all of the chaos.
“C’mon, Rory, she’ll be okay,” John said behind him. “At least we came and found that out. But now we’re just in the way, and we need to let these guys do their jobs.”
Rory reluctantly stepped away and let John lead him back to his waiting squad car.
They arrived back at the Condo to hear more bad news.
“A sixteen-year-old girl died before the SWAT team was able to rescue her at Wildcats,” Mark Glover informed them. “They tried to resuscitate her, but she had passed away minutes earlier of internal injuries and a blunt force trauma to her head. Her name was Danielle.”
Rory sat and put his head in his arms. Black stars danced before his eyes, and he thought for a moment he’d pass out.
“I’m sorry, you knew her?” Agent Glover asked, seeing Rory’s reaction.
“Yes,” Rory raised his head once his vision cleared, his voice choked with grief. “She was Tiffany’s friend. Carlos and I saw her when we were undercover in there. They beat her to death. I should have gotten her out of there.” Suddenly he was seething with guilt and rage. “So did they catch any of these Mafia barbarians?” I hope they are all tortured and hanged, he thought angrily.
“Yes, at least a dozen, although a few escaped. Still, we hope we captured enough of them to get to the bottom of all of this.”
“What about the other girls?” Rory asked.
“Seven others were rushed by ambulance to Sunrise Hospital with various injuries,” Agent Glover said solemnly. “One is in Intensive Care, three are in critical condition, and the others were treated and released back into police custody.”
“What happens next?” John Dade wondered aloud.
“Everyone who was caught is being booked in the four Vegas police stations, which were alerted and staffed ahead of time in preparation for the sting. There are more than a hundred and fifty in all including the girls. Of course they’ll wait for those in the hospital to get better before they bring them in for questioning.”
“How is Susan?” Rory was almost afraid to ask but had to know.
“We just got a call that she’s fine. She was treated and released and hopefully is at home resting.”
“They didn’t …?” Rory left the question unspoken, but everyone knew what he meant.
“No, she was not assaulted, just emotionally battered and a little tired.”
“Thank God.” Rory exhaled a sigh of relief.
Susan shocked them all when she walked through the door to the Condo a few hours later looking different from her typically confident, policewoman self. Instead of wearing her uniform, she was dressed in civilian clothes—jeans and a lightweight powder blue sweater, her hair down around her shoulders. She looked vulnerable, and sadness clouded her big brown eyes.
Rory sat at his desk across from John, sorting through stacks of papers that had been confiscated in the raid from the various clubs, everything from accounting records to copies of visas, green cards, and naturalization certificates. Rory was grateful for the menial task as he was having trouble focusing; it was already approaching 11 p.m.
He looked up when he felt her presence; he thought she looked beautiful, despite the fact that she looked very tired.
“What are you doing back at work, Lieutenant?” Rodney Steele walked up and pulled out a chair for her to sit in, but she ignored his gallantry.
“I want to help. I can see there’s a lot more work to be done.” She gestured her hand in a sweeping motion, indicating the massive amounts of paperwork, the phone bank, which was completely manned, and the satellite video screens being viewed by several agents. The Condo’s interior, which seemed full when just the OND members were present, was now packed with at least two dozen law enforcement officials, some back from out in the field and some brought in on special assignment.
“Well, you’ve already done enough, and it’s late ….”
Susan swayed a little, losing her balance, and grabbed hold of a nearby desk. “Maybe I will take that chair. I do feel a little light-headed.”
Rodney Steele put his one arm around Susan’s waist. Even though he was strong and she was petite, settling her down into the chair was awkward for the one-armed FBI chief, and they stumbled. Rory jumped to his feet, eager to help.
“You’ve been through a lot in forty-eight hours, Lieutenant McAfree. How about if I have Mr. Justice take you back to the hospital just to make sure everything’s okay?” Chief Steele was all about using proper titles and last names while at work, and encouraged them to do the same.
“That won’t be necessary, Chief. I’m fine. It’s probably just that I haven’t had enough sleep, and I guess I haven’t had anything to eat since this morning. The food they feed the girls is pitiful.”
“I could take you for a sandwich and coffee,” Rory heard himself offer.
Susan looked up, her brown eyes locking with his green ones. He wasn’t sure if he saw defiance or gratitude in them, or maybe a strange combination of both. She sighed. “All right. But then I’m coming back to help, and ….”
“No, you are going straight home and getting some sleep so you can come back ready to go tomorrow,” Chief Steele said sternly. “And that, Lieutenant, is an order.”
Rory and Susan sat across from each other in the little diner three blocks down the road. It wasn’t fancy, but the locals ate there and the food was decent. Rory was surprised when Susan ordered a bowl of chili, a grilled cheese sandwich, an iced tea, and a piece of homemade cherry pie a la mode and coffee for dessert. He was further amazed when she ate every bite.
He ordered a piece of pie and some milk, and sat while
she ate her dinner making small talk, filling her in on everything they had pieced together so far on the Mafia ring they were investigating. He bided his time, waiting until she was almost finished, to ask her questions that had been building up, burning inside him.
“So how was it in there, Lieutenant?”
“You saw for yourself in Wildcats, didn’t you Mr. Justice? And call me Susan.”
“Deal, if you call me Rory.” He saw her smile and felt his heart jump. “I guess it was the same. Pretty bad, huh? I hope you weren’t, uh, mishandled or abused?” Careful, he warned himself, his heart now thumping.
“Nah, luckily the undercover agents posing as customers found me on the dance floor and we just hung out together in the back room.” Susan ate the last bite of pie and ice cream and licked her spoon. “Did you want details?”
Although her tone was playfully sarcastic, and he knew she was just toying with him, Rory felt the sting of her words. He realized he shouldn’t have probed her for information, and he knew that his questions had arisen from a feeling of jealousy that other men had seen her in that skimpy costume. But it was more than that. He wanted to make sure she was okay. He realized he felt overprotective … like a big brother, or partner … or more. Like some macho man, he derided himself, feeling suddenly mad at himself for even asking or caring.
“I was just concerned, that’s all,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. “We were all afraid for you when you didn’t come out right away and the SWAT team descended. You didn’t know it, but I was there when you came out of the building. I’m glad you made it out okay.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have teased you.” Susan now looked sincerely contrite as she sipped her coffee. “And thank you for caring. To be honest, I was afraid too, a few times in fact, and I’m a cop. I don’t know how those girls survive in there. I’ve worked with many victims, but these new Mafia guys give the word sadomasochism a whole new meaning.”
“Yeah, I used to think those girls all asked for what they got working in places like that, sinking that low,” Rory admitted. “Now I see that many of them sign up for something they didn’t bargain for and didn’t deserve—no human being deserves to be treated that way.”
“Hmmm, maybe there’s hope for you yet, Mr. Justice … Rory.” Susan McAfree smiled. “I took you for the ultra-conservative, judgmental type.”
Rory felt a little offended, but knew she was right in her assessment. “You’re pretty astute. More so than I am. Do you mind if I ask you another question?”
“Shoot.”
“Why do you do what you do? Stay in this line of work, all of these years, here in Las Vegas of all places? I have to admit, there have been a few times when I’ve been ready to call it quits, and I’ve only been involved in this assignment for a week or so. It’s depressing. And you’re so smart and ….” Rory realized he was venturing onto dangerous ground again. He had wanted to say “attractive,” but knew it might sound condescending.
“And what?” her eyes gleamed playfully again.
“And … you have so much more to offer.”
“Why, thank you, Rory Justice.” Susan smiled and blushed, showing a lighter, feminine side he had never seen before. But then her expression turned shadowy, like a cloud was passing overhead. “I guess I do what I do to help people, especially battered and abused women, because I’ve been where they’ve been.”
Rory sat in silence, his hands wrapped tightly around his coffee mug. He looked down at the black liquid in his cup, not sure what to say, waiting.
“It was a long time ago and I’m over it now,” Susan continued matter-of-factly. “Counseling helped. I was eleven when it started. My parents travelled a lot for their jobs, and my uncle babysat my younger brother and me. He played games with me, like hide and seek, after my brother went to bed. I tried to hide really well, but he always found me, and then … well, you know, he sexually assaulted me. When it turned ugly, he threatened that if I told anyone, he would hurt my little brother really badly, and I would be sorry. It went on for almost two years, and then he was in a car accident that disfigured him. He had to have his leg amputated … and of course, I was old enough to take care of us at that point. I used to think maybe God punished him by making him lose a leg. Anyhow, I always believed that one day I would work in a field that would help victims and punish the bad guys. I grew up in a nice white-collar town in Arizona. I guess I came here because Vegas is full of victims and bad guys.”
Rory was dumbstruck for a few minutes, his heart aching for her. “I’m sorry you went through all that, Susan.”
She yawned and smiled sleepily. “Sorry, it’s not the company. I am still really tired. I don’t think I could drink enough coffee to keep me awake at this point. Could you take me home?”
Rory was happy to oblige. Susan lived on the outskirts of the city in a nice little rancher. He pulled up next to the curb and parked in front of the house.
She turned to face him. “I’m embarrassed to ask, but do you think you could see me inside? After the bust on these guys, I just don’t feel entirely safe right now, especially since we obviously didn’t catch them all.” For a moment, Rory thought she looked like a young, vulnerable girl and he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her. But that’s not what she needs right now, he reminded himself.
“Sure, no problem,” he said. Before he could walk around to open the passenger door for her, she was already out of the car and headed up the walkway. He hurried to at least hold the screen porch door while she unlocked the front door. “Do you want me to come in while you make sure everything is all right?”
She grinned. “Hmmm … yes, I think I can trust you.”
Rory felt his cheeks turn hot. He stood in the foyer while she went through the house flipping on light switches and opening doors. Once she was in the kitchen, she called out, “Would you like anything to drink?”
“I don’t drink much,” Rory responded, feeling for the first time that he almost wished he did.
“Good, neither do I,” she said. “How about a soda?”
“No, that’s okay. Can I use your bathroom?”
“Of course, second door down the hall to the right.”
Rory noticed that Susan had contemporary taste, with a few pieces of framed, colorful modern art hanging here and there, but she definitely wasn’t into knickknacks or a lot of decorations. He liked it. Her place had a clean, comfortable feel that wasn’t overly feminine or masculine.
When Rory walked out of the hallway into the living room, he saw Susan lying on the couch fast asleep, her head resting on a throw pillow, her legs curled up. He saw her holstered gun on the coffee table and a blanket nearby, and he covered her, smiling to himself. A sudden rush of a feeling he refused to label tugged at his heart. Sweet dreams, Lieutenant, he whispered, and saw himself out, locking the door behind him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tiffany asked Susan and Rory to accompany her to Sunrise Hospital to visit her friends who were still being treated for various injuries, malnutrition, and mistreatment following the sting operation.
Kimi was one of the patients still in critical condition. The ER doctors had hydrated her and given her intravenous nutrition, adding anti-anxiety medication when she had a panic attack and hyperventilated.
Rory and Susan waited in the hallway for Tiffany to finish her visit.
“She looks a lot better than she did back in the club,” Tiffany said, smiling. Then her expression turned serious again.
“There’s one more person I need to see. Remember Candy, the black girl I was with when you first met me?”
Rory felt himself blushing, self-conscious in front of Lieutenant McAfree. “Yes, I remember.”
“Well, she is also here in critical condition. Her room is a few doors down. Kimi said when Jameel found out I was gone, he turned on her. I need to go in and see her. Will you come with me?” Tiffany implored Susan.
“Why don’t you go with her while I go visit some
of the others?” Rory told Susan.
But Tiffany took his hand. “No, that’s okay. I want you both to go with me.”
Rory and Susan followed Tiffany cautiously into the hospital room where Candy lay resting, her eyes closed.
Her whole face was swollen and bruised, one eye sealed shut. Her hair had been shaved, and a large white bandage covered her head. One of her arms was in a cast, the other hooked up to various IV lines.
Tiffany and Susan slowly approached her while Rory stood back in a corner of the room.
“Candy?” It came out of Tiffany’s mouth in almost a whisper. The young black woman opened her good eye, painfully sat up a fraction in the bed, and glared at her former club mate.
“Go!” The voice from the formerly beautiful stripper was hoarse, choked with pain and fury.
“Are you okay?” Tiffany took a step backward.
Venomous hatred emanated from Candy’s face.
“No, I’m not okay, and it’s all your fault. Just get out. All of you.”
Tiffany’s face crumpled. “Oh, Candy, I’m so sorry. You’ve got to know I wanted you to come with me that night, but I didn’t have a choice. Rory here rescued me, and then we were almost killed but managed to escape.”
Rory cringed when Tiffany motioned toward him.
“It doesn’t matter.” Candy spoke in a deadpan voice. “We’re all going to die.”
“No, the FBI and police are going to protect you,” Susan interjected in a soft voice. “You won’t have to go back.”
“Who is this and why is she here?” Candy nearly spat out the words as she glanced diffidently at Susan then turned her cold gaze back to Tiffany.
“This is Lieutenant McAfree. She also risked her life to save us,” Tiffany said.
The Runaway Prophet Page 12
