by Stacy Green
“The dark web?” I asked. “I thought law enforcement didn’t have much hope of infiltrating thanks to privacy laws.”
“Yes and no. The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children has been a great resource,” Coleman said. “And getting into Simon’s personal files allowed us a starting point. The FBI were able to encrypt several of his images with technology that tracks active downloads. They’ve been able to arrest a few of his cohorts, and we’re hoping it’s just the beginning.”
“I’m happy to hear that. Kailey deserves more justice than Steve’s arrest.” Now was the time to tread carefully. Waltzing in here and telling the Senator to change up his task force required finesse. “I’ve been doing a lot of undercover work lately, and I’ve discovered additional trafficking here in the city. That’s the reason I’m being so presumptuous and suggesting changes to your task force.”
The senator raised his eyebrows. “Your methods?”
“I’m a private investigator.” And not the first one to cross the lines of my profession, I wanted to add. I just do a better job of it than most. “I can’t share my resources, which I’m sure you understand. But I think after my assistance in finding Kailey Richardson, I’ve proved I’ve got the sources.”
“Which may be illegal.” He gave me a well-oiled smile.
I returned the savvy smile, but I could feel the corners of my mouth drooping down, unable to hide my disdain. “The same could be said about many government operations.”
Coleman’s pale blue eyes became unsettling the longer I stared. They reminded me of the watery eyes of my sister’s corpse, blank with death. He used this to his advantage. He gazed over the desk at me with a pleasant, if not slightly vacant, expression. Those eyes that looked as if a mortician needed to sew them shut. I finally conceded and looked away.
“Point taken,” Coleman said. “You’re suggesting changes to my task force because of your findings?”
This time, I focused on the bridge of his nose, where his glasses had left a nice indentation. “I think if you look at the information I’ve gathered, you’ll see a Philadelphia-centered location is warranted.”
He scratched his chin, looking at me with those murky eyes. “It’s not a bad idea. What are your leads?”
“Four different businesses.” I gave him the list I’d spent half the night organizing. Three months’ worth of research by Kelly and me, all handed over to someone I still wasn’t entirely sure I could trust. The act made me feel slightly sick, but I didn’t have the time or resources to track them all down myself, and the needs of the victims came first. “Senator, if you got behind this, we could make a difference in the city.”
He read the list, his forehead wrinkling, making his winter-abused skin look even worse. “Exhale Mind and Body Salon has asterisks. Why?”
I retrieved the bagged phone from my purse. Last night, Kelly had gotten all the information she could off it. I explained to him about following Sarah and the two kids to the hotel. “I admit to going undercover at Exhale because of the leads mentioned in the list. After several weeks of careful observation, I realized the owner of the salon conducted private calls on a cellphone she never allowed anyone to see. Last night, I took the phone.”
Another raise of his bushy eyebrows, a glimmer of appreciation in his creepy eyes. “You stole it.”
“I did. And I was able to intercept an exchange between an adult male and a minor female at the Rattner Hotel in North Philadelphia. The man ran, but the girl confirmed the owner Sarah Jones was a go-between for a much larger network.”
“Sarah Jones.” The Senator scribbled on the printout, his fine point pen making rough scratching sounds. “And the girl’s name?”
“She refused to give it.” I wasn’t ready to hand Riley over yet. “Inside the phone is a very complex coding system. I was lucky to figure out enough to intercept the meeting last night. I’m hoping your resources will have better luck.”
He turned the phone over in his hand. “I’ve got a specialist who might be able to find more information. But what you’re talking about is the prostitution of minor children. An abomination and criminal offense to be sure, but defining them as sex trafficking victims is difficult. Not to mention you’ve given me stolen merchandise.”
I did my best to look contrite, glancing down at my folded hands. “I realize that, and I understand if you don’t want to get involved, but I assure you, I’ve done my research. This phone is part of an active network I believe can be traced back to the African American boy left at the Greencastle Fire Department a couple of months ago. Are you familiar with that case?”
The Senator nodded. “Very much so. How are you tying the boy with this thing at Exhale? The little boy didn’t have any idea who brought him to Maryland, or who purchased him, or where he came from. He’d been blindfolded during the entire journey.”
Sweet Aron. After promising to keep our secret about putting the man to sleep, Aron had been mostly silent on the drive to the fire station, eating his sandwich and staring at me with those big eyes. I smiled and played the radio, chattering about kid things. He seemed content, even waving goodbye to me as he walked the remaining steps to the station. The satisfaction of doing the right thing lingered with me for a few days, and a fresh wave surged over me. I sat up straighter, bringing myself back to the Senator’s questioning eyes. “After I received my first tip about Exhale, I was still trying to decide what to do. Then a friend with connections in Hagerstown told me the boy found at the fire station talked about going to Exhale. Given the evidence I’ve just given you, I’m not sure that can be ruled as coincidence.”
“That’s still a stretch. The child could have misunderstood.” Senator Coleman balanced the slender pen on his large, farmhand-looking fingers. “You have a lot of connections, it seems.”
He should have just stamped the question on his forehead. My connections could be useful to him, so why don’t I share them? I diverted the implication and pushed ahead. “He could have misunderstood, I suppose. Is it possible to question him?”
Another pretend smile, acknowledging the unspoken no in my answer. “His foster parents are being investigated, and he’s been removed to another part of the country.” The politician reared his head as I assumed he eventually would. “It would take some doing, and I’m not sure it’s worth messing with the red tape.”
“I accept that,” I said. “But I won’t accept you don’t have enough evidence to warrant your attention.”
Coleman ignored the direct challenge. “This information wasn’t in the papers, but the boy claimed a female FBI Agent by the name of Rex left him at the fire station.” He leaned back in his chair, regarding me with an eel-like smile. “There’s no record of that agent.”
“Really?” I pretended to be surprised and not disturbed by the innuendo in the Senator’s voice. “Did he give any other information?”
Kelly had scoured every law enforcement source she had in the tri-state area. There’d been no mention of the boy talking about the agent putting his captor to sleep. But I’d like to be sure little Aron had kept his promise.
“No. Just that the agent retrieved him from a bad man and brought him there. Since the boy was brought across state lines, the FBI took over the case.”
I waited. Bob Stewart’s body had been found nearly frozen solid in his semi two days after his death. Last I’d heard, Hagerstown Police and the Maryland State Police considered Stewart’s death as suspicious due to his extremely low blood sugar. Two overworked counties in two different states had yet to match their cases together.
Senator Coleman lifted the papers and stared at them for a long, silent minute. Finally, he set them back down on his desk and looked me in the eye with a direct gaze that sent chills up my spine. “God bless whoever tracked down that child and delivered him. She clearly isn’t afraid of the consequences.”
I said nothing, nodding in agreement and preparing to volley back if the Senator outright confronted me.
He nudged the phone with his pen. “I can’t say you’re wrong about the local situation. But creating a team for something like this doesn’t happen overnight.”
I nodded in understanding like I knew he wanted me to. “Of course. But this is your pet cause. And you’re up for re-election in less than a year. Think of what cleaning up Philadelphia would mean to voters.”
He looked away, debating again. “All right. I’ve got some customs agents in Philadelphia who will hopefully have time to look into these allegations. I’ll give them your list, and if they find anything at these locations, I’ll start pushing for the task force. But it’s going to take some time. As for this phone, you realize I’m taking a risk keeping it.”
I took the chance to say what we both already knew. So easy to read, even easier to manage. In less than five minutes of conversation, he’d revealed to me that politics were at least as important as his pet cause. He’d practically handed me my best bargaining chip. I rose to leave. “You’re an upstanding politician. If you say you didn’t know it was stolen, the police will believe you. And we’re talking about the greater good here.”
Senator Coleman stood as well, extending his hand. “Duly noted. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Lucy. It’s people like you who will make the difference in the war on these horrific crimes.”
People like me. What if there were more people like me? What if zero tolerance laws were finally passed against sexual predators and actually enforced? How different would the next generation grow up?
The senator escorted me to the lobby. He touched my elbow–an old-fashioned gentleman’s gesture. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Sir.” A pleasant faced twenty-something man waved from behind a desk loaded with odds and ends. “I need you to sign these forms for the budget meeting.” Offering me a shy smile, he hurried around the desk and handed the senator the forms.
“Thanks, Jake.” Coleman swiftly signed the papers without reading them. “Lucy, this is my top aide, Jake Meyer. He’s a grad student at Penn State and the most organized person on the planet. My life would be a mess without him.”
I smiled warmly at Jake. Shorter than me, with soft brown eyes and olive skin, he looked like he still belonged in high school. Then again, maybe I was just too far removed from his age group to realize I was the one looking older while they stayed the same. “Do you work with private citizens? I could certainly use some organizing.”
He glanced between the Senator and me, tugging uncomfortably at the carefully knotted tie resting snuggly beneath his burgundy sweater vest. “I’m sure a lady like you doesn’t need my help.”
“Only a lady on the surface, Jake. The rest of me is a mess.”
He laughed, a breathy trill that wasn’t at all masculine. “Well, the surface is sparkling.” Realizing his cheesy line, Jake flushed to the roots of his dark hair.
I played with my earring and smiled. “Thank you. That’s the best compliment I’ve had today.”
Nodding, he flushed again.
“Here you go.” Senator Coleman handed back the signed papers. “Again, Lucy, I’ll be in touch. If you need anything else, call my office directly. I’ll make sure Jake and the others know to put you through.”
“Thank you.” I buttoned my wool coat, shooting a still embarrassed Jake one final smile. My mind was already moving on. Time for the big show.
6
Dressing for success was key to being taken seriously. That was one of the few useful things I learned from my mother.
Sarah was bound to confront me over the missing phone, and nothing intimidated an insecure woman like a confident, attractive rival. My auburn hair fell in loose waves around my shoulders, and the dark green, figure-hugging dress made my eyes pop. Topped off with a little mascara and no glasses, I knew I’d have the eye of everyone in the spa as soon as I walked in the door.
I blew into the spa with the blast of frigid air. Making sure to keep my back to the front desk, I smoothed my hair and slipped off my wool coat. Tension–or perhaps it was finely honed instinct–crawled up the back of my neck with legs as thick as a hairy tarantula’s. Instead of the usual morning bustle–idle chitchat, stations being cleaned, coffee being made–the spa was quiet. Whispers crawled past me, as if my coworkers were collectively waiting to witness the impending storm.
The anticipation of Sarah’s confrontation came as a blitz attack making my scalp tingle and my fingers twitch. Is this what drug addicts felt when they needed a fix? A dazzling, hot fire that spread throughout every inch of their bodies until they wanted to scream or pass out?
“Lucy.” Sarah’s voice was colder than the Arctic weather.
Center stage now, the spotlight blinding and intoxicating. Slowly, I turned and approached the front desk where Sarah leaned against the counter. Satisfaction forced the corners of my mouth up. Her hair looked less smooth this morning and her makeup not quite pristine. Fine wrinkles around her eyes, and bags beneath those. Her gaze flashed over me, taking in my drastically different appearance, and like a rippling stream, her stance subtly changed. She swallowed and then shifted in her heels. Squaring her shoulders, she jutted her chin, smoothed her hair and then her silk blouse. She picked at one of her manicured nails.
One lioness formerly challenging another, in the subtle way that only human females can accomplish.
“Good morning, Sarah. How are you today?” Chris would have laughed at the singsong tone of my voice. I supposed my love of confronting people like Sarah meant a far deeper neurosis, but I’d think about that another day.
“Not very well.” Her sharp voice reminded me of my ninth-grade English teacher. My friend Kenny used to say the woman desperately needed to get laid or none of us would pass.
I feigned concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Why don’t we speak in my office?”
Interesting move. I hadn’t been entirely sure she would know I was the one who took the phone, but since she’d been in the office with the door shut just before the last client arrived, it was a good bet she’d used it. Logic pointed to me being the logical suspect, but how exactly was she going to accuse me of stealing a hidden cellphone without calling herself out? She’d have to rely on my not challenging her, and that was a gamble she’d lose. Pulling me into her office was a way to regain power, bring me to her territory.
I trailed my hand through my hair, pretending to watch the red strands glowing in the soft light. Sarah huffed. “I don’t really feel comfortable being in your office right now. You’re very angry. Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”
Her left eye twitched. My lips begged to lift into a smirk, but I held back. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw the other women crowded around the beverage station. The weaker lionesses waiting to see who would be their new queen.
“Something is missing from my office,” Sarah finally said. Her eyes searched mine, the unspoken words sizzling between us. She realized I had to know something to search for that phone. But how much? And was I a cop? The questions plaguing her were embedded into the lines across her forehead and the deep creases between her eyes. “It was there when I took the last client last night, and then it disappeared. You were the only one here.”
Every jittery movement telegraphed her fear, bolstering my ego. I put my hands on my hips. “I’m sorry? What are you talking about?”
Sarah glanced from me to her employees. Her narrowed eyes, coupled with the soft yellow light, made her look reptilian. She snapped her gaze back to me, shoving her chin high. “If you needed money, Lucy, you should have asked. Stealing my purse and cellphone was foolish.”
So that’s how she’d decided to play it. Throwing her purse into the mix. I made my eyes go wide. “Excuse me?”
“They’re missing. You were the only one here.”
“Then you must have misplaced them.”
Sarah shook her head. “Give them back, and I won’t call the police.” She smiled a fake smile that reminded me o
f Senator Coleman’s oily politician grin.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “Did you look at the security footage? I’m sure your cameras will catch whoever snuck into your office and stole that phone.” I emphasized the last word and leaned against the counter.
She stood straight as a twig. Her forehead glimmered with a light sheen of sweat. “I don’t have security cameras.”
I made an obnoxious sound between a snort and a laugh, honestly surprised. “You’re running a high-end business, and you don’t have security cameras?” I looked around the plush lobby. All the other employees watched now, not even pretending to be doing something else. I pointed to one of the massage therapists. “Does that sound right to you? What company in this day and age doesn’t have security cameras?”
“I don’t believe in them.” Sarah’s voice warbled. “Until now, I haven’t had to worry about this sort of thing.”
“That makes no sense to me.” I crossed my arms over my chest, still directing my words to the others. “As an employee, don’t you feel unprotected? She can accuse anyone of anything, and so could a customer.”
Sheri, one of the manicurists, shrugged. “Sarah treats us well. We’ve never questioned it.”
Sarah’s head bobbed up and down. “Lucy, I’m a nice person. And I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. There’s no reason to get the police involved. Just give my things back.” So she’d decided I wasn’t an undercover cop. Not a hard conclusion to make. But it fascinated me how this woman thought she had the upper hand. Only someone with knowledge about what she was hiding would know to look for that phone. She wasn’t ignorant. But then again, she was used to control and privilege and didn’t mind farming out children. I suppose some redhead off the street didn’t faze her.
