“I hope your FBI people here in Vegas can find them before Carter does something worse to them.”
“Me too.”
We washed our faces and met Tanner and another FBI agent in the lobby. They’d already secured a hotel meeting room where they would conduct the interviews. A camera was set up in the room. Tanner’s partner, a shorter guy, did all the legwork. He brought each of us into the room, made sure the camera was working, and then would slip out to prep the next person to be interviewed. They started with Sonya Faulk, and then talked to Byron, Becca, and Erin. When my daughter came out, she looked tired.
“You doing okay?” I asked.
“I can tell I’m not going to enjoy having to tell this story over and over. But if it can help the girls who are still being held…”
I nodded. “Exactly. I’ll be out in a minute. Stay close to the Faulks until I’m out.”
She gave me a mock-salute—which reminded me that her spirit had not been broken. I loved it.
Agent Tanner and I shook hands when I walked into the interview room. He said his boss used to live in Boston and apparently knew Jerry from back in the day.
I said, “I’m not surprised.”
Tanner looked like your generic agent. No real accent, so I guessed he was from the Midwest. Dark hair parted on one side. He wore a blue sports coat and a collared blue shirt. The only thing that stood out was a small scar under his right eye.
At least his was visible.
I shared my story, starting with the phone call from the person with the digitally altered voice. I pointed out the difference between my call and the call the Faulks received. He put his hand to his chin. He didn’t take notes. He had the fancy video recorder if he wanted to go back and check the stories.
I moved on and told him about being mugged the first time in a trailer. I gave him the location.
“Not a good part of town,” he said.
“I learned that the hard way.”
“Something tells me you would have gone anyway.”
“Do you have kids?” I asked, trying not to sound defensive.
“Two. Ages nine and eleven.”
I opened my palms to the ceiling. He didn’t respond, but he seemed to get my point—he nodded and pursed his lips together.
Eventually, I reached the part of waking up in the hallway of the compound, my mind in a dizzy haze. I shared what I saw in the rooms—all of it. And then how I ran right into the large man who wore the Richard Nixon mask. From there, I explained my thoughts on Carter—the one likely in charge—with his Eastern European accent and metrosexual habits and high-end jeans.
Tanner nodded again and asked me to continue. I explained my journey to south LA, where I came face to face with another deviant, Grant Valdez, who, apparently, was Carter’s inside guy with the US Customs and Border Patrol. I told him how I’d escaped with the boxes and headed back to Vegas.
So far, Tanner didn’t have much to say. He was listening but had no expression at all, really. He either wasn’t surprised, or he was bored. The vibe I was picking up didn’t give me the sense that the bad guys better run and hide. In fact, they might be out by the hotel pool having cocktails, and Tanner might, at some point, figure it out and arrange a time to talk to them.
I took in a deep breath and realized my well of cynicism runneth over. Tanner was probably just maintaining a professional demeanor. Still, I decided, for the moment, to leave out my interaction with Officer Bruce Massey of the California Highway Patrol. The guy had been embarrassed enough. Why put him through another round that would likely lead to his firing?
I went on to tell Tanner about the last act of the saga: how I’d found the compound empty, how Nixon had jumped my car battery and then changed vehicles at the gas station. I tried my best to pinpoint the location for Tanner. Then I talked about Nixon leading me to a trailer far off the main road. I described the ensuing fight with Nixon, how Carter stole the car with the drugs in it, and then ultimately how Nixon died.
“And a few minutes later, I heard Erin’s voice.” My voice cracked on the last couple of words.
He nodded, still showing no emotion. He reached for the door, then turned to me and said, “You never told me where you got the gun from.”
Crap. The gun. Think fast, Alex. “I saw it on the floor when I ran out of Valdez’s house. I grabbed it, thought it would come in handy at some point.”
“That was convenient…that he just left a pistol sitting on the floor.”
“The guy’s a real winner,” I said. “Who knows where he got the gun from or what other illegal activities he has going on?” I knew my white lie might come back to bite me in the ass. Then again, I didn’t have an abundance of confidence that Tanner would really dig into the details of this investigation. I doubted he would ever talk to Valdez.
Tanner moved his head from side to side, as if he were contemplating my story, ninety-nine percent of which was the truth.
“So, are you going to send out a team to the compound? I’m sure Erin and Becca told you about the dead girl they saw get buried behind the shed.”
He shut off the camera and started packing up. “We’re in the interview phase right now. You guys are safe, and that’s important. But, yes, I’m sure we’ll send some people out there and try to verify your statements.”
Verify our statements? Both of my palms dropped to the table. He snapped his eyes in my direction.
“I’m aware that prostitution is legal in regulated brothels, but I’m sure you can tell by our statements that none of this was normal. They kidnapped my daughter and her friend. Becca was raped, drugged…there are countless other girls in the same situation. It’s basically a sex-drug prison. The value of the drugs in my car, I’m almost certain, was seven figures.”
“I thought you never looked in the boxes?”
“I didn’t, but all signs indicate that I was being forced to be a drug-runner. Think about it—they have a guy on the inside at CBP who receives packages from overseas, and then they get people like me, with everything to lose, to bring the drugs to them. They were going to kill me. Who knows how many parents like me they’ve killed? But right now, there are many girls who need our help. They’re being used and abused by these…these monsters.” My voice was pitching higher with every sentence, it seemed. I could feel my jaw twitching.
Tanner loaded the camera in a satchel. “Agent Troutt, you’re very personally involved in this incident, so I understand your emotion. Just know that here in Las Vegas, in Nevada in general, we’ve worked out a relationship with the, uh, other side of the law to where we can all coexist in a peaceful way. Those who don’t follow our unwritten rules or who cross the line…of course, they need to be brought to justice, like maybe these people who harassed you and the girls.”
“Harassed?” My voice bounced off the walls.
He held out a hand as if I should calm down. I tried not to grab it and break two fingers.
“Nevada is unlike any other state in the country. It used to be a lawless place years ago. But now that we all know the role we play, tourism for everyone, families included, has made this a wonderful destination. So, I’m just saying it takes a more nuanced approach than just running around with guns blazing.”
I got out of the chair and walked to the door. “That’s your reaction after listening to our statements, huh?”
“It’s just different here. I didn’t create the rules, but I do know how to get things done and not turn the world upside down.”
“I’m glad I know now,” I said, opening the door.
“Know what?”
“That you’re an embarrassment to the Bureau and a worthless piece-of-shit agent.”
I slammed the door behind me and went to go eat dinner.
25
Alex
I stepped into a space of the hotel lobby where it smelled like cherry, as if I’d been dunked into a canister full of maraschino cherries. I assumed this was another trick of the casino tra
de—to make it more inviting for tourists to spend money. The inside of my cheeks tingled, and I started salivating.
“Mom, your face is, uh…classic.”
I must have been making a face too. “Classic, huh? Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
Erin curled her arm inside of mine. “Sure, if you want it to be.”
I guided us a few feet closer to the sliding glass doors. There was a glare from the midday sun, but the brief moments of fresh air every time the doors opened was a nice respite. We were waiting on the Faulks to say goodbye. Agent Tanner had called earlier and said he didn’t need to interview us a second time. For some reason, that didn’t surprise me.
“You know,” Erin said, as we watched three young women walk into the hotel, holding their shoes in one hand and their bras in another, “the hotel is only trying to cover up the cigarette smell.”
“I know,” I said, waving a hand in my face. It seemed like the cherry odor was embedded in my nose. Off in the distance, we could see the same girls stumble onto the elevator. It was rather obvious they’d been out all night.
“Don’t worry—you’ll never see me doing that. I’ve had all the growing-up experiences a person can take,” Erin said.
I felt like she actually believed what she said. I wanted to believe it too. But deep down, I knew Erin would probably hit that age when she’d want to experiment in a lot of areas. In a couple of years, she’d be off to college—the breeding ground for experimentation. Looking back to my college years, I was damn lucky to be alive. I’d gone to the University of Texas in Austin for undergrad. Enough said about that period of life. I felt pretty certain this latest incident would shape Erin’s life, though. Hopefully for the better, and without making her paranoid.
A man wearing sunglasses and a cap for the new NHL team in town, Las Vegas Golden Knights, walked in the door. He took a final drag of his cigarette and blew it our direction.
“Excuse me,” I said.
He didn’t hear me. Probably for the better.
“Reminds me of Mr. Faulk last night.” Erin scrunched up her nose but then quickly touched the gash on her face. I tried not to reach out and touch her as if she were a five-year-old. But I just wanted to wipe the pain away, inside and out.
“Yeah, all those times I’d seen the Faulks at the tennis tournaments, I had no idea he was so over the top…well, about everything. I think if I’d known that about him, I probably wouldn’t have let you go on this trip.”
She turned slightly, but I still caught her rolling her eyes. Then she flipped around and faced me. “You know this has nothing to do with Mr. Faulk being a drunk, right?”
I held up two hands. “I know, I know. Don’t you think his behavior was way out there?”
“Let’s just say it. He got shitfaced. Becca tells me it happens all the time. Well, in the last few months.”
“Have you ever seen him act like he did last night?”
Last night had been a sight to behold. By the time Erin and I arrived at the table, Byron had ordered two bottles of champagne, one for himself and one for Sonya and me to share. I ended up drinking half a glass. Sonya might have had a full glass. Hard to remember, because all eyes were on Byron.
He stood up half the time, as if he were holding court…like he couldn’t control himself. He was attempting to do card tricks at the table. At first, his tricks and tipsy, jovial demeanor were almost humorous. But the more he drank, the nastier his comments became. Then came the cigarettes. He took chain-smoking to another level, lighting up two at a time. Then he started doing shots. The more he smoked, the more he drank. Which led to cruder comments to anyone within earshot.
It was a vicious and ugly cycle that went on far too long. Sonya and Becca both seemed embarrassed by the episode. I finally had enough and told everyone that Erin and I were headed up to our room. For some reason, Byron thought it was the perfect time to compare his wife’s body to that of one of the showgirls, who’d just walked by our table. I almost walked over and punched him in the jaw. A rush of unpleasant memories had lit up my brain like a firecracker show—back when my dad was a walking, talking drunk. Dad had embarrassed me more than once, but he was never that mean. Dad’s biggest target of his derisive comments was himself.
“You mean, where he’s cussing at everyone…nice one minute, mean the next? No. I’ve seen him drink a lot. I’ve read about functional alcoholics, and that’s what I thought he was. But Becca, during our time together walking those hills, shared something with me.”
She pressed her lips shut and looked over her shoulder. No sign of the Faulks yet. We’d give them another ten minutes, and then we’d have to head to the airport.
I tried not to let my imagination run wild during the few seconds I waited for Erin to continue. She had gone through too much. Becca had been sexually assaulted. It was all I could do not to think about putting Erin in a convent when we got home.
She bit her lower lip, as if she were still mulling over what she should say. “So, I’m kind of breaking a friendship oath right now,” she finally said, again glancing over her shoulder.
“It’s okay, Erin. I’m not going to run off and post something on Snapchat.”
“Well, duh! I know that. But it’s more about me…you know, not breaking the trust with my best friend.”
“I get it.” I held it at that, hoping she’d continue. She did.
“Becca told me they almost lost their house a month ago.”
“What? I thought both her parents had jobs…good jobs. Isn’t she an assistant principal at the elementary school, and he’s a CPA, right?”
“Yeah, I guess. But does it really matter what job you have if you spend too much money?”
Erin was showing some youthful wisdom.
“Solid point, daughter. So, they were able to keep the house, apparently.”
“But only because Becca’s grandparents came in at the last second and paid their mortgage.”
My eyes looked past Erin to see the Faulks walking in our direction from the elevators. Not surprisingly, Byron had on sunglasses and his hands were buried in his pockets.
“So you think everything’s okay now?” I asked Erin.
She shook her head. “Becca hears her parents fighting all the time. She thinks it’s usually about money, although she asked her mom about it and she said they were fine, their financial situation was fine. Everything was fine.”
I nodded. “The great equalizer.”
“Why do you say that?”
“When someone says it’s never about the money, it’s always about the money.”
She shook her head as if she wasn’t following me. “Like with what?”
“With everything.”
“Never knew you were so wise, Mom.”
“Thanks.”
“I always knew you were badass, though.” She smirked.
“Better to be a dumb badass than not a badass at all.”
She giggled. “You’re funny when you cuss.”
I popped an eyebrow for Erin, and then the Faulks walked up. We all said our goodbyes. Byron and Sonya acted as though nothing had happened last night. Should have predicted as much, given my experience in such matters. The worst drunk is always the one with the convenient loss of memory. Erin and Becca giggled and talked like they hadn’t seen each other in a week. I smiled and hoped that Becca would get the help she needed once they traveled back to Salem.
“So, are you guys heading out later this evening?” I asked.
“You kidding me? I got us tickets to a big boxing match tonight,” Byron said, his voice sounding like he was gargling pebbles.
I glanced at Sonya. Her eyes looked to the ceiling. That spoke volumes. A month ago, the guy had no money to pay the mortgage. Yesterday even, they told Erin they couldn’t loan us some money so we could get a room for the night.
It just hit me. We were in the mecca of gambling. That was probably at the heart of Byron’s issues. He’d gambled away all their mo
ney. Big winner one day; big loser the next. And in there somewhere, he’d drink himself into oblivion. I felt even sorrier for Becca. As for Sonya, I had empathy as well. Then again, she could be enabling his behavior.
I was ready to get the hell out of Vegas, though, and that included steering clear of the Faulks. We waved goodbye one last time as we crawled into a cab and headed for the airport.
26
Alex
During the ride, Erin and I stayed quiet, each of us looking out our windows at all the casinos. I recalled the feeling I had when I’d flown into Vegas. Acid had nearly ripped a hole in my stomach lining. But now I had my daughter safely with me, and we were going to go home to reunite with our own family. Brad and I wanted to show the kids and Ezzy a couple of the houses we’d looked at. He and I had talked last night. I finally told him all the details of what had happened. He was a great listener, but it only made me want him by my side that much more.
Carrying only a backpack, I guided Erin to the back of the line for the ticket counter to pick up the tickets Brad had reserved for us. My phone dinged—I’d forgotten to put it on mute. It was a text from Nick, my once and future partner. He’d suffered severe internal injuries from a series of bombs during the Boston Marathon and just in the last week had returned to the office. He still hadn’t been cleared to work in the field, so he was stuck in the office doing investigative work behind the scenes—an activity that made him quite grumpy. I read his text.
Take a look at this picture. Show it to Erin, and then call me.
Before I opened the picture, Brad sent a text.
Hey, Nick’s sending u a text. Call me before you decide.
Decide what? I tapped on the picture Nick sent. It was a girl, maybe a little younger than Erin. She had a headful of dark curls. Her big smile was all braces and cheeks.
“What are you looking at, Mom?” Erin peered around my arm before I could decide if I wanted her to see it.
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