Ashes

by Aleatha Romig

  Madeline swiveled her chair to look at me. “What kitchen supplies?”

  “The pastor’s wife, Kristen, she said she gave you a hundred dollars and you never returned.”

  Madeline’s chin rose. “Her name was Kristine, and she took me to Dr. Miller’s after taking me shopping and out to lunch. She told me she knew someone who could help me learn if I was pregnant.” Madeline undid her seat belt and stood. Ignoring the rest of the room, she stared directly into my gaze. “Patrick, I didn’t take her hundred dollars. The office is where I filled out the papers. Kristine sold me for three…for three hundred dollars and our unborn child for five hundred.”

  My head shook. “She told me you left, insinuated that you left me and stole from her.”

  “And you believed her?”

  I ran my palm over my head, the brittleness of my hair under my palm. “I didn’t want to. God knows, I didn’t want to.” Rage continued to smolder beneath my heated skin. “She looked me in the eye and lied.”

  “Statistically,” Mason said, “more trafficking victims are lured by trusted associates than by strangers. It makes sense.”

  I remembered something Madeline had said earlier. “You said you met Ivanov in June. Where were you from February to June?”

  Her head shook as she retook her seat. With her head held high, she stared across the table to Sparrow. “I have some money hidden. If you will please allow me to see Ruby, just see her and know she’s safe, I will stay away from your home and family.”

  “Where were you from February to June?” Sparrow repeated my question, his voice eerily calm.

  “I don’t know the exact location. It was in Chicago or one of the suburbs. The evening I was taken to Senator McFadden’s home, I saw the neighborhood. It was nice, not as nice as his, but normal.”

  “A neighborhood?” Mason asked.

  “From the outside the house looked like any other.” Her head shook. “Not on the inside.”

  Spinning her chair back to me, I hunched down near her knees with my hands on her thighs. “Is this why you think I’ll reject you?” My voice cracked. “Because you were victimized?”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I allowed it. I did whatever I was told to do to protect Ruby.” Her chin dropped. “I-I wasn’t a victim. I did what I was told.”

  My thumb and forefinger went to her chin. “You survived what many don’t.”

  “Patrick, it’s bad enough that I have spent sixteen years at Andros’s disposal. Those four months, I lost count of the men. The first night, in Dr. Miller’s office, there were four, including the senator.”

  The pressure in my chest grew painful. It took all my restraint not to lash out—not at Madeline but at the people who hurt her and even at myself. My jaw clenched, yet my gaze remained on her. “I’m so sorry. It was my job to keep you safe. I’m the one who failed.”

  “Since I saw you at Club Regal,” she said, “I’ve been remembering things I’d blocked away. When Ruby was missing, I was so afraid that she’d end up in a place like the cell house.”

  “The cell house?” I asked.

  “There was a basement where we were kept until we were called.”

  “You weren’t alone?” Mason asked.

  Madeline’s eyes were still on me. “No. The number of girls varied, but usually there were about ten or twelve.”

  “Madeline,” Sparrow said. “Please turn back.”

  I reached for her hands and squeezed. “I love you. I did. I do and I never stopped.”

  Though her eyes were red and cheeks damp, the tips of her lips curled upward. “That’s what kept me going.”

  “This information doesn’t take any of that away. I’m so fucking in awe of your strength.”

  Freeing her hand, she used the back to wipe her cheeks and spun toward Sparrow. “I won’t darken your door. I know that despite what Patrick is saying, my welcome is no longer in question but revoked. I just ask that you and Patrick take care of Ruby.”

  He sat taller. “That’s it. After surviving the horror of forced prostitution and being sold to Ivanov all for Ruby’s sake, you’re going to walk away from her?”

  “I have always done what was best for her. I believe that with Patrick and…” She gestured around the table. “…all of you, she will be safe from Andros and Marion. Marion said he was going to marry me to adopt her. He wants that power over you. I pray you won’t allow that.”

  I reached for Madeline’s hand as I scanned my two friends. Sparrow was unreadable while compassion oozed from Mason. For a tattooed, scary-looking big man, he had a weakness for anything having to do with trafficking and exploitation. We all did.

  “I’m taking Madeline in the back. This interrogation is over for now.” I met Sparrow’s gaze. “She’s coming home with me to my apartment. The other floors are negotiable.”

  His dark gaze zeroed in on mine. “If you fucking call Araneae, I’ll kick your ass.”

  I grinned as Madeline stood. “The thought never crossed my mind.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Maddie, let’s go.”

  Opening the partition, we started to move forward until Madeline stopped and turned. “I’ve never told anyone those particulars. Andros knew enough, but he never asked.”

  “Thank you for your honesty,” Mason said. “We’ve all been touched by this issue.” His head shook. “That isn’t meant to minimize your trauma; it’s only to let you know that we’re familiar with the subject.”

  “I wish I wasn’t,” Madeline said.

  “How much did Ivanov pay?” Sparrow asked.

  I stood taller, blocking Madeline from Sparrow. “Done for now.”

  Madeline’s hand came to my sleeve. “A million. He told me he saw my worth. It made it seem… I don’t know...better. Until…”

  “Madeline, you don’t need to—”

  Sparrow was now standing. “Until?”

  “Until last night. Last night after I was informed that I’d been sold again, to Marion…”

  What the fuck?

  “…I learned my worth wasn’t in me but in my blood—your blood.”

  “The ten-million-dollar transfer,” Mason said.

  Madeline’s chin went up. “At least my price has gone up.”

  I tugged her hand and led her to the rear cabin. Once the partition was closed, I palmed her cheeks. “Your worth has nothing to do with money or parentage, Maddie. Your worth to me and Ruby is beyond measure—priceless. I will fucking spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

  She looked around. In this cabin, there were two clusters of soft seats with two chairs each and a small table between. On the wall to the front was a large screen. Each side had three rectangular windows. Her shoulders shuddered as she wrapped her arms around herself. “I need to shower. I feel…dirty.”

  Sitting, I lifted my hand. “Come sit with me.”

  She shook her head as her arms squeezed tighter around her breasts. “I’d rather sit over here.” She moved away to the other cluster, sat and turned toward the window.

  Helpless…that’s the feeling that overwhelmed me.

  Helplessness wasn’t a feeling I was used to experiencing.

  I was a doer. I fixed things. Though I had experience with victims, with Madeline, this was beyond my capability. Following her, I moved to the chair near her. “Maddie, I can’t erase what happened. If I could, I would stop at nothing to do it.”

  Her eyes glistened with tears as she continued staring out the window.

  “You said I could reject you.”

  Her chin raised a fraction of an inch, yet she didn’t speak.

  “What you said in there…” I lifted my head toward the partition. “Nothing you said makes me love you less. I’m so fucking blown away by your strength, determination, and honesty.”

  She turned toward me with new tears on her cheeks.

  Though we were only a few feet apart, it was too much. Slipping from the chair, I sat back on my haunches wit
h my hand on her knee. “When you said you didn’t leave me, I was afraid of what you would tell me.”

  She shook her head with each word. “I wouldn’t have left you.”

  “I looked for you. I didn’t want to believe Kristine.” A thought came to mind. “I want to find them.”

  “Who?”

  “Pastor Roberto and Kristine.” My mind filled with thoughts of the mission.

  “Did you stay there...after…?”

  “No. I went on a quest to find you. I didn’t give a damn about their renovation.” I hadn’t thought of this in years. “During the time we were there, others came and went.”

  “I thought about that at one time,” she said. “There were some with young children.” She brought her hands together. “Patrick, what if they were sold…like they said they’d sell Ruby.”

  “They said they’d sell her?”

  “I heard the woman at Dr. Miller’s talking. The plan was to sell the babies. Everyone in the cell house was pregnant. I believe I was an anomaly. Now I know it was because I am related to him.”

  “I’m going to track every damn one of these people down. I need names and anything you can remember.”

  “And do what? It’s over. I read that McFadden went to prison.”

  I nodded. “Yes, he did. But he was only a part.”

  “The top, from what I could deduce.”

  “We’ve worked on eradicating this stain from Chicago. Our quest has been going on for a while. But there were always branches in the distribution we couldn’t identify. With your help, we can. Each one of them is guilty. When you’re ready, tell me.”

  “Patrick, what can you do now?”

  Kill every last one of them.

  Before I could say that, the partition opened to Sparrow’s dark stare. “Reid’s on the screen. Get in here.”

  “I’ll be right back,” I said to Madeline as I stood.

  “No, both of you.”

  Patrick

  I took Madeline’s hand as we entered the front cabin of the plane. Reid’s face was larger than life upon the screen on the wall.

  “This is Reid Murray,” I said to Madeline.

  “Can he see us?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. Nice to finally meet you,” Reid said with a grin.

  “Hello, nice to meet you, too.”

  “Sit down,” Sparrow ordered. “Reid, show them what you just showed us.”

  The screen filled with a newscast. The bottom ticker read BREAKING NEWS - LIVE, but since Sparrow and Mason had already seen it, it was obviously no longer live. The backdrop was in front of Marion Elliott’s home or appeared to be. I’d only seen it in pictures and satellite images.

  The volume rose as a reporter pushed a microphone toward Elliott.

  My spine straightened as Elliott’s drawl resonated through the cabin. “Asshole, your days are numbered,” I muttered under my breath at the man who as recently as yesterday had paid ten million dollars for my wife.

  “…just awful,” he said, his expression downtrodden. “We have evidence to believe that Miss Tate, who those in the world of poker know as Madeline Miller, has been taken. Her bodyguard, a trusted employee of mine, was left unconscious as was Mr. Randolph St. Pierre of St. Pierre Jewelers.” He looked at the camera. “This is a crime and a travesty.” The camera came closer. “I’m offering a one-million-dollar reward to the person or persons who can locate and safely return my fiancée to me.”

  The reporter brought the microphone to her lips. “Ladies and gentlemen, you heard it here first. Marion Elliott is offering a one-million-dollar reward.”

  He reached for the microphone. “That reward includes law enforcement. I will give the money to your department. I want everyone everywhere to be on alert. Can you show her picture and the hotline number and website?”

  “Yes,” the reporter said as she touched something in her ear and turned back to Elliott. “Did you say fiancée?”

  “Yes, ma’am. You see, last night Madeline agreed to marry me. We are in love. Today she was at the jewelry store to have her wedding ring sized. We were both elated. Madeline wouldn’t leave of her own accord.” He sighed. “I’m also concerned that she could be a danger to herself and possibly even her daughter—”

  His lips moved, saying Ruby, but the sound was muted.

  The reporter pulled the microphone away. “Sir, this station forbids the naming of minors without parental consent.”

  Madeline stood, backing away from the screen with her arms once again surrounding her torso. “Why is he doing this?”

  We turned our attention back to the screen as Marion pulled upon the brim of his hat, shielding the sunshine from his eyes. “I’m sorry, little miss. I can’t think straight until I know she’s safe—they’re both safe.”

  Madeline shook her head.

  “Can you tell us why you’re worried about Ms. Tate being a danger to herself?” the reporter asked.

  “I’d rather not say,” Elliott replied.

  “Mr. Elliott, you brought it up. Sharing this information could possibly help her.”

  Elliott nodded. “If it will help.” He looked straight in the camera again. “Madeline doesn’t want others to know; however, Miss Tate has a history of psychosis. She’s stable when medicated, but heaven knows what she could say or do when she isn’t.”

  “No, I don’t,” Madeline said.

  The reporter was talking, “…particular symptoms?”

  Elliott’s head shook. “Although we’ve only recently become close, she confided in me that she has a history of delusions. When that occurs, she is plagued by a distorted perception of reality—past and present. Apparently, she’s been known to make all kinds of false statements.”

  “Have you filed a missing person’s report?”

  “A criminal report has been filed. This was a crime. David, my employee who was with her, as well as Mr. St. Pierre, have given their statements to the police. The scene appears to be a robbery turned kidnapping.”

  “Is there anything else you’d like to add,” the reporter asked.

  The camera again zoomed closer. “Madeline, if you can hear this, don’t be afraid. I’m looking for you and will stop at nothing to have you back. I want you to know I’ll get you home where you belong.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Elliott. Ladies and gentlemen…”

  The broadcast disappeared and Reid reappeared. “It aired about twenty minutes ago,” he said. “The tip line is fielding hundreds of calls. I can’t listen to them all. I have a word-search program installed. If anyone mentions Patrick, Kelly, Ruby, Sparrow, or Chicago, it will trigger a recording and informational scan of the call. We’ll know who called and from where. So far, I believe the callers are out for the cash.”

  “That last thing he said,” Madeline said, “sounded like he was reassuring me, but he wasn’t. That was a warning, telling me he’d get me back there. He’s upset he paid ten million and his purchase disappeared.”

  “Fuck him,” I said. “You’re not going back.”

  “Then why else did he make this statement?” she asked.

  Sparrow spoke, “It seems to me that he’s preemptively gaslighting. His comments about your psychosis, claiming that you have delusions, are a preventative measure in case you would decide to come forward about what really occurred.”

  “That he bought me.”

  Everyone nodded.

  Madeline’s eyes opened wider. “I wouldn’t tell. I didn’t want to tell any of you.”

  “You will land soon,” Reid said. “Garrett is waiting and will bring you all here. Once you’re secure, we can deal with this.”

  Sparrow looked at his watch. “I need a separate car to head to the office. Stephanie rescheduled my meeting and I’m already late.”

  Reid nodded. “We’ll get it squared away, boss.”

  “Who are you meeting with?” I asked.

  “The CFO of the tech company who is currently leasing Elliott’s building.”


  “Excuse me,” Madeline interjected. “Secure? Are you saying you won’t stop me from entering wherever…” She motioned to Reid. “…there is?”

  “You’ll be secure,” Sparrow said, “in Patrick’s apartment. The rest is negotiable.”

  Her green eyes turned to me. “Ruby?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you. I thought once you knew the truth about who I am and what I’ve done that you’d send me away.”

  “Madeline,” Sparrow said, “it’s the opposite. Continue the honesty and this may work.”

  “Even when it’s ugly?”

  I reached for her hand. “Maddie girl, we all have ugly truths. Most truths aren’t pretty. They’re real and raw. Don’t shield that from any of us. We can take it and the more we know, the more we can do.”

  Sparrow looked over at Madeline. “Please, sit back down. We don’t have much time. What can you tell us about Ivanov?”

  Madeline sat, placing her hands on the table. “I don’t know where to start. Ask me and I’ll answer.”

  Sparrow began.

  Madeline

  Over sixteen years ago

  After my arrival to Andros’s home, the room next door to my suite had been converted to a nursery with a pocket door installed for direct access. Both of the rooms had French doors leading to balconies that overlooked an interior courtyard. Although it was surrounded by tall brick walls of the house, the gardens were a paradise within. Whether sitting on the balcony in the morning sunshine or walking the paths between the flowers with Irina, my helper in all things, or Tadeas, my tutor, it was a beautiful and peaceful escape from the happenings in the rest of the house.

  My classroom was on the first floor, a small study-looking room with two large desks, bookcases, windows overlooking the garden, and a fireplace. I met four days a week there with Tadeas, a quiet man with a thicker Russian accent than Andros. It took me a few weeks to understand everything he said. And yet he never angered. Despite my lack of formal education, Tadeas’s patience was unmatched as he worked to assess my knowledge level and began my studies.