Lynn sat forward. “New? You mean he just showed up?”
“Not just. He came about a month before the hurricane. He’s in his late twenties, I think. Looks like a body-builder.”
“Well, I don’t know what he looks like, but either he’s a pedophile or into human trafficking or both. You need to call Detective Richards and give him any information you have. What he looks like, who he hangs with, all that. Do you have a last name?”
“No, he hasn’t asked for any help and hasn’t communicated with any of the volunteers.”
“How do Lily and Maria get along?”
“Relationship-wise? Typical teenage stuff. Nothing unusual that I could see.”
“When I talked with Lily the other day, she was upset about her mom but also defensive about Afton.”
“You’re kidding. The guy almost killed her mom. Why would she defend him?”
“Read Marta’s testimony again. I’ve done a lot of research since Tom started this whole thing. These girls are brainwashed, psychologically groomed to be faithful to their handlers. Some of the men work on the girls for months before kidnapping them. They go from the loving boyfriend to violent pimp overnight, and the girls become emotional—as well as physical—slaves. I bet that’s what he was doing with Lily. He went there that night to get her, only she wasn’t ready. I bet he moved more quickly than he wanted because of Victoria’s—I mean, Marianne’s—death. I wanted to learn more, but Maria woke up, and things got out of control. Lily is blaming herself, not her boyfriend. And she didn’t give his name to the deputies, only to me when her mom seemed to be doing worse.”
Lynn picked up her phone from the table, punched in some numbers and thrust it at Sharee. “Tell Rich everything you know about this Afton person.”
As Sharee put the phone to her ear, she cocked her head. “Tell Rich?”
Chapter 20
Lynn dug her phone from her purse. Her eyes rested on the number before she answered. “Rich?”
“Hi.” His voice sounded strange.
“Hi. How are you?”
“Great. I’m great. This case has me wondering about my sanity. I appreciate your friend, Sharee’s, call yesterday, but even with that…”
“You haven’t found him?”
“He’s vanished. All we have are bits and pieces. They fit. I know they fit, but we’re not getting anywhere. And Lily’s not forthcoming. For all she said to you, she’s holding back when talking with us. Whether he’s connected with Marianne Stablowski’s murder is impossible to know right now. And Lily’s mom? We need the girl’s testimony to pin that on him.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I’d taped what she said.”
“A tape would be great, but probably not admissible. Her mom’s getting out of the hospital in a day or two. That might help us. If her mom puts pressure on her, maybe she’ll talk to us.”
“Can’t you use what she told me?”
“We still need some hard evidence that connects him with either one of the women. The knife. A DNA match. Something.
“You sound discouraged.”
“I am. We’re going to have to put this aside. We’ve spent a lot of time on it, ignoring some other cases.”
“Put it aside?” No, dear Lord, don’t let them stop.
“I know how you feel.” She heard him slam something. “The guy’s disappeared. Completely. He and his friend. Every unit’s out looking. Nothing.”
Lord, what do I say? He sounds so down, so frustrated.
“Keith wants to move on, and we’re going to have to. We’ve got other cases.”
“But doesn’t Keith think you’ll solve this?”
“We won’t give up, but we’ve got to work the other cases, too. Keith is being realistic. We’re looking for some drifter that has no previous arrests. The DNA and fingerprints we got from the tent didn’t match anything.” He paused. “I think your boss might be right. Someone somewhere is behind this. Afton is getting girls for someone—either on his own or with someone else—and that someone else is pulling the strings.”
“But then Afton would lead you to him.”
“If we can find him—which is a big if right now. Keith thinks it’s someone that has a reputation to protect. Someone you’d never suspect of being a sex addict. If he pays Afton to get the girls and Afton is either pimping them himself or selling them to another pimp, then this guy always has access—a way to satisfy his addiction, but—he’s in the clear. He’s not trafficking the girls. He’s just another john when it comes down to it. And right now, we’re not arresting johns.”
“Why not?” Lynn’s voice grated.
“Too hard to convict for one thing. Some states are starting; laws are changing; but this is still a whole new way of thinking for law enforcement—a prostitute being a victim.”
“Well, she is. If someone is kidnapped, raped, beaten and forced to prostitute themselves, surely you can see…”
“Hey, I’m not fighting you. I understand.” His voice dropped again. “But we need some hard evidence in this case. If Stablowski had something, maybe that was why she was killed. But I sure didn’t see it in that bag of stuff you dropped off. Do you have anything else of hers?”
“No, I… Rich…” She hesitated. The discouragement in his voice wove through her. What could she do to help? If he was here… “Do you want to come over?” Now the silence on his end lengthened. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I know what you said.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
Something in his voice stopped her reply. Of course, she wanted to see him, to be there for him. If she said yes… “I do. I want to help, but…” She struggled to find the words.
“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”
***
John enjoyed the cool night air as he stood on the deck. The moon’s brightness shimmered across the ground and created deep night shadows beneath the trees and bushes.
Sharee had filled him in on Marta’s file during the last hour. On such a beautiful night, how could the vileness of what he’d just heard happen?
Lord, why is such evil in the world? Why do you allow it? Scripture filled his mind. “Refuse the evil, and choose the good…I have set before you blessing and cursing, life and death. Therefore, choose life so that you and your children may live.” Not everyone chose life, not everyone chose the blessings of God or chose what was good. Some wanted nothing to with God. Many, knowing what was evil, still chose it. What is wrong with us, Lord? You’ve given us free will, and we use it for evil.
He stared across the field. Not that he was free of sin, either. Not by a long shot. I repent, Lord, of my anger, my own self-confidence, and self-righteousness, of not trusting you with Sharee. What could I do from halfway around the world? Nothing. But you took care of her. Thank you.
Sharee and Cooper broke from the trees. She had left to walk the dog after their late meal and now raced back across the moon-bathed field. Cooper darted after something to his left, and Sharee shouted his name. The dog swerved, ran toward her, and then made a line for the deck. He leapt the steps and circled John’s legs.
John stretched down to pet the dog until Sharee jumped onto the deck. She carried Cooper’s leash.
“No fair, dog,” she said, breathing hard. “Your stride is way longer than mine.”
John reached for her. “That doesn’t take much.”
“Hey.” She struggled as he drew her into his arms. “You promised no more cracks about my height.”
“Did I? I’m not doing too well on keeping promises these days.”
“Uh huh. We ought to have some type of penalty—like cleaning the bathrooms for a month.”
“We’ll have to talk about that one.” He rumpled her hair, and she slapped at his hand. “By the way, what did you do with my wife?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The one that hates the dog and insists he should be on a leash.”
“Oh, that one?” She snuggled int
o him, and tilted her head, giving an impish smile. “He worked his way into first-class grace.”
“How was that?”
“The night he…” She stopped.
“He what?”
“Oh.” A pause. “I forgot. I haven’t told you.”
He loosened his grip, moving so the moonlight fell on her features. “What haven’t you told me?”
“It’s nothing mountain-shattering. It’s just that the night you left, someone tried to break in.”
His chest tightened. He’d been away for just a few days. He integrated the new information with his recent prayer and repentance. “What happened?”
She described Cooper’s actions and those of the police, about finding the duct tape the next day. He remained quiet.
“John?”
“You found duct tape under the deck?”
“Yes. Have you lost any?”
“No.” He tried to keep his voice neutral.
“I think he must have dropped it when Cooper scared him. He took off, anyway. Thank God. But just thinking about duct tape scares me.”
He pulled her back against his chest. “Me, too.” More than he would admit. It spoke of premeditation, of a breakin that was more than a robbery. “Thank God Cooper was here.”
She glanced at the dog as he lay near their feet. “I guess it made putting up with him worth it.”
“Yeah, just a little.” The silence stretched longer this time. She rested her head against his chest, and he kissed her hair.
“John, can you talk about Indonesia now?”
Indonesia. His mind flew from the image of duct tape to a child’s body he’d helped pull from the mud. The images tore at his insides like a smell he couldn’t purge from his nostrils. He’d been back forty-eight hours, and the pictures hadn’t lost their force.
“Okay. Let’s sit, though.” He dragged two chairs forward.
Perhaps giving the images words would lessen their effect. He began with the first day, taking his time getting to the disaster on the islands. Sharee’s indrawn breaths and groans paralleled his own inner reactions. He mentioned feeling like extra baggage when they sent them home, acknowledging her reaction along that same line.
When he described ditching the plane and their swim to shore, she rose and came to sit with him. “I don’t want you out of my sight for a while.”
A different anger rose in him. The enemy had attacked both of them—when they were apart. God, show me what to do. Teach us. If we are to serve you, we must learn to fight spiritually.
At last, he described the girl and how he’d tried to rescue her, only to have her run off. He shared the others’ comments about human trafficking.
She sat straighter. “John, do you think…I mean…Is God trying to show us something in this area?”
“I don’t know. I know I’ve felt called to Indonesia. You said you did, too.”
“But maybe…well, maybe there’s a need there.” She sat forward. “You know, a need for a house or something. If the girls escape or if we can help them escape, they would need a place to stay, and counseling, and to learn a trade, a way to support themselves. We could—”
“Whoa. Whoa.” He chuckled. “Reign in the excitement for a moment. I think we need to pray about this.”
“But it’s possible?”
“Yes, it’s possible; but we want to make sure.”
“Lynn thinks that man, Afton, is somehow involved in trafficking, that he tried to kidnap Lily to traffic her.”
“Afton? You mean Afton Sinclair? That guy that hung around here for a day or two? No one mentioned his name.”
“He talked to Lily about running away, but how do you know his last name?”
“Afton and another guy were hanging out here after the hurricane. I drove them back to the homeless camp. I asked for both their names then, but I wasn’t sure either one gave me the right one.”
“You need to call Detective Richards.”
He nodded. “But first, I think we need to pray. Too much is happening. We don’t pray as much as we did. First line of defense.”
“Can we pray for Lily, too? I don’t want her to get deceived by this guy again. I want her to be safe—and Maria. Can we ask God for healing for her, and a home for them?”
“Why not? Let’s hit it all.”
“If they need a place to stay for a while, can we have them here? You know, just until Maria is better. We have the extra room. And Lily could sleep on the couch.”
He thought it through and took a deep breath—the homeless and now Maria and Lily. He could see more of this in their future. As Pedro had said, his wife had a big heart. Better get used to it.
“All right, but,” he moved his thumb over the back of her hand, “I still don’t want you picking up hitchhikers. Not right now. Not until this is over. Will you do that for me?” Where had that come from? As immediate as the need for prayer.
Her gaze moved over his face. The moonlight textured her expression, and she nodded. “Okay.”
“Thank you.” He squeezed her hand again and sat forward. Sharee rose and went back to her own chair and bowed her head.
“Thank you, Lord,” John said, “for giving me a wife whose heart is open to others. Please give me a heart as open as hers.” He hesitated. What next? So many things, from the needs in Indonesia to the Sheriff’s investigation here, to the miscarriage, but first… “Dear God, we thank you for all your provision, for your protection, for all your blessings…”
***
What had she done? The dread, the indecision started before she set her phone on the table. He’d said they shouldn’t see each other until the case closed, but he was coming. Breaking his own rule. She shouldn’t have asked.
When she opened the door to his knock, the compelling need shooting from him encompassed her. He pulled her into his arms even as he shut the door with a foot, and his mouth covered hers, hungry and demanding.
She pulled away and put her hands on his chest. “Rich. Wait. Stop.” When he drew back, she asked. “Are you all right?”
“No, I’m aggravated and angry. Angry with the case and with a partner who’s ready to move on.” He caught her hand and walked her to the couch. “Neither case is going any place.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You want to help?”
“Of course. What can I…”
His mouth found hers again, harder, insistent. The strength of his arms around her sent a shiver through her. She drew back.
His blue eyes darkened. “You’re interfering with my work, lady. You’re beautiful, eccentric, unique. I want you.”
“Rich, please.”
His fingers brushed the hair back off her shoulders, and she shivered from his touch. The intense need in his eyes held her.
“I know what you said, but this…what’s going on here between us is different. I can’t say why, but that’s true. Isn’t it?”
Oh, yes. If he had trouble at work, she bet her struggle tripled his. Never had such conflicting emotions played havoc with her thought processes. “That doesn’t make…what you’re wanting okay.”
He frowned. “Look, no one does this anymore—except maybe teenagers, when they make that…that purity pledge.” Frustration wove itself through his voice. “Why did you invite me over?”
“Because you sounded down. I wanted to help. But we talked about this before.”
“Lynn, you’re no babe in the woods. Don’t tell me you’re a virgin. I won’t believe it.”
“Well, thanks for that vote of…of confidence.” She twisted out of his embrace, rose and walked across the room.
He followed her. His anger and desire hit her like heat from a bonfire, a catapult to her defenses. She wasn’t sure she could hold to what was right. God, you know I’ve prayed for a pure relationship, one that honors you.
She moved around a chair, gripping the back of it. It created a barrier that she needed. Rich’s eyes dropped to the chair and rose again to her face. He
took a deep breath, swallowed, and straightened.
When he spoke a moment later, his voice sounded almost normal. “I’m sorry. I did not mean…well, I did mean. I mean…are you a virgin?”
She would have laughed at his stumbling if the situation had not gone past laughter. If she told him the truth, it would only make it harder; but she couldn’t lie.
“No, I’m not.”
His face changed in an instant, and he stepped forward like a robot on autopilot.
Her hand shot upward. “Stay right there and listen to me. Before I became a Christian, and even for a while after that, I…well, hooked up with some different guys; but now…now I’ve taken one of those vows—one of those purity vows you were making fun of—to God. And I plan to keep it.”
He didn’t move. His studied look pried like a physical assault. “You sound as if you mean it.”
“I do.”
His gaze raked the ceiling and came back to hers. “I’d better leave then.”
She couldn’t say anything. Her voice, her throat, her chest were squeezed in a tight vise. Oh, God. The cry for help went deep; she wanted him to stay. He waited. Her nerves stretched like fishing line peeling out after being hit by a massive fish.
A moment later, he nodded and strode to the door. Lynn bowed her head, closed her eyes and prayed again.
Quiet.
Then the door opened and closed. She jerked her head up, eyes flying open. The door stared back at her. She twisted her head to see the rest of the room. Empty. Vacant. Bare.
Her heart crashed.
***
Three whole days without a word, a call, or a text. Lynn stared out the doors and gulped deep breaths. Outside, waves thrust themselves onto the white sands, leaving lines of foam as they rushed back to join the Gulf waters. Gray storm clouds gathered above them, and silver lights danced on the waves. Soon, the water, too, would darken, and the thrust and pull of the waves would become ominous.
Work was God-sent, but she couldn’t stay there forever. And home, which used to be her chosen retreat, now seemed like a prison.
She loved the Gulf and her condo. The room in which she stood reflected it. Seascapes, sea turtles, dolphins, and multi-colored fish decorated her walls. Sea shells, bobbers, sea sponges, and other “finds” from walking the beach adorned wooden shelves and tables.
Splashdown: A Christian Contemporary Romance with Suspense (Dangerous Series Book 3) Page 14
