Fleeting Visions
Page 29
“You bet. You could both spend the holidays here.”
“Fant-ta-stic!”
***
Alvaro Luzardo had followed the news of Camilo Estorbar’s arrest over the Internet. He wanted to know more, much more, about the operation and about the girls. He went to the special store that carried international newspapers and got both the Globe and Mail and the Toronto Star. He put them on the passenger seat and drove home. He’d read them as soon he arrived—if Fatima let him alone for a half hour straight. The girl was a happy lark, helping her mother in the kitchen, her father with the chores in the yard, and playing with his iPad. He wondered if he’d ever regain possession of his tablet. For a couple of days she’d missed the presence of Helenita, who had flown to Toronto with a temporary visa. He’d tried to talk to her about her stay at Swing with Us, but all he got was a sad face and the anxious question, “I don’t have to go back, right?”
Alvaro quickly reassured her and let go of the issue, thinking the right time would come when she’d feel free to confide in her brother. Her happiness, however, seemed genuine, and the tests she’d taken at the local hospital all came out negative.
A lot to be thankful for, Alvaro thought.
When he arrived, there was a note that the family had gone to the fair in the next village. Alvaro took the mail, a glass of water and sat in the back yard to read his newspapers.
Camilo Estorbar was not talking, but the young women who’d been his victims were. They described how they’d been abducted, how they’d been segregated and convinced they were still in their native countries, how they’d been intimidated and forced to work any time a client requested their services, even when they were sick. They confirmed that Dolores Cardova had been one of the guests, and was taken to the hospital when her bleeding was out of control.
Alvaro looked at the list of suspects the newspapers published. His alias, Vicente Perdiz, wasn’t there. He wondered if it would ever surface. For the time being, he was safe. He turned to the mail. There was a letter from Abigail MacMillan, thanking him for his help and inviting him to visit her sometime soon. Alvaro put the letter aside.
Toronto, and all of Canada were off-limits—probably forever.
***
Gordon drove home, looking forward to seeing Jocelyn and spending time with her. She’d gone part-time at the Prescription Centre and spent hours making a home out of his place. Trees had been trimmed and new bushes planted. The new outdoor furniture she’d bought gave a cheerful touch to the back yard. She’d hired a company for the outside painting, but had done all the indoor decoration herself. She’d put her condo up for sale.
When he approached the house, he was surprised to see that the outside lights were not on. They were manually controlled, and Jocelyn never forgot to turn them on when she was home, as a welcome sign. He parked in the garage and entered the kitchen. There was a note on the fridge. “I’m at your parents’ house. They had a problem with the pup. Come over and have supper here.”
Gordon couldn’t figure out what problem they could have with that sweet little blue tick. It was very active, but still quite small—just over three months old. He got his iPhone out and dialed his parents’ number. There was no answer. Well, he’d drive there, even if he’d have preferred to spend a quiet evening at home.
Forty minutes later, he entered the road leading to the family farm, wondering why everything was dark. No light on the driveway entrance, no light in the house. He parked near the door and entered.
He’d gone only a few steps inside when myriad bulbs of every color spread light around him, and a band struck up The Rolling Stones’ Good Times. Gordon recognized the six-member of the London Police Band, specialized in rock music. When the band finished, a chorus of voices sang a “hip, hip hooray,” followed by “congratulations” and a duet, “we’re proud of you, son,” sung by his mother and father.
Banners with “Congrats,” “You’re a Great Leader” “We Love You,” extended from one wall to the other; garlands, and swirling decorations hung down from the ceiling; balloons, anchored to the floor by sand bags, added a touch of festivity. There were more than a hundred folks, as most people had come with their spouses or a date. On the big table flush against the longer wall were punch bowls, napkins, colorful plastic dishes, and cutlery. Jocelyn walked up to him and gave him a warm hug. She had to compete with the presence of the thick crowd, and soon she was separated from him. People lined up to hug Gordon or shake his hand. It was nice to hear words of praise from the sergeant, the chief of the London Police Service, old-time friends, colleagues, and neighbors. He quickly recognized Doctor Harry Wengler of the University Hospital whose eyes sparkled with cheerfulness.
When he was close, the doctor said, “I shouldn’t have doubted of you, but patience isn’t my best virtue.” He shook Gordon’s hand and moved on.
Gordon nodded thanks, but his eyes looked for Jocelyn; he felt she should share this moment of glory on his side. She’d gotten so busy carrying trays with food from the kitchen to the table that she hadn’t noticed that he was waving at her.
Finally, the congratulations were over. Jocelyn, radiant in a sparkling green outfit, moved close to him. Linking arms, they neared a table in the middle of the room. Jocelyn jumped onto it and announced, “Gordon and I are going to get married!”
The band started That's How Strong My Love Is but the music was soon overcome by new hoorays and the shuffling of the people rushing to congratulate the happy couple.
When finally the crowd around them thinned out, Jocelyn fetched two glasses of champagne and gave one to Gordon.
“To us,” she whispered. “And to a great detective who discovered my inner feelings without ever asking me about them. To a man who fights for justice and has faith in life and love.”
The End
Acknowledgments
The mass media, with their programmes and articles on human trafficking (like the Minh Dang’s story) renewed my interest in the subject of teenagers’ prostitution. I greatly appreciated the many discussions I had with friends and writers together with the cooperation of Dr. Sheng Yu (Western University, Ontario), Mr. Walter Kleine (Kleine Editorial Services) and the London Police Service (Ontario).
Other books by Rene Natan
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http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/205088
The Collage describes the anguish of a young woman accused of a murder she hardly remembers of having committed.
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Cross of Sapphires is centered on the life and tribulations of a man of the law who falls in love with the wrong woman: a female athlete on the run accused of a horrible crime.
http://www.vermeil.biz
Operation Woman in Black is dedicated to all parents of handicapped children. Its aim is to entertain the reader while portraying the hardship of coping with a mentally retarded girl who becomes a mother.
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The Jungfrau Watch is a political thriller. A young man is raised to believe that communism is the panacea for all the problems of the world. Then the Soviet Union collapses, exposing all its crimes. What chances has a person like this to redeem himself? The answer is at the very end of the story!
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The Red Manor is about family bonds that stretch over two continents and where love overcomes both greed and cleverly engineered criminal plots.
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In Fire Underneath the Ice (a novella coauthored by Sharon Crawford under the pen name Natanevin) revenge is supposed to be sweet, but when Michael Hamming decides to take it out on the daughter of his nemesis, he finds love instead.
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The Blackpox Threat is a spy story. Her country threatened by a de
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In The Bricklayer everything is going well for Frederick Dalton, until he hires a female engineer in his construction company.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007PKCHBI