“Sorry chère, no rest for the wicked. Rick picked up some talk on the Internet that makes him think you need to get back in the game and get ready for a phone call. Get dressed, just in case you have to go in.”
With great effort, Rachel pried her eyelids open. “I’m so tired.”
“I know, mon amour. I’m sorry. Maybe this is it, and after today I can whisk you somewhere far away where you can sleep for a month if you want to.”
That was the carrot that got the donkey out of bed. She glanced at the clock and sighed. It really was morning, no matter how badly she didn’t want it to be. Rachel dressed in the horrible clothes of her disguise, snickering a bit as she put in her contacts. Rick had already dressed the part of the chauffeur by the time she was ready to walk out the door. They rode for a while in silence, both waiting tensely for the phone to ring.
“Hey, Rachel,” Rick finally spoke, “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you last night.”
“I got over it,” she assured him. “It’s actually pretty funny, and I’m just going to tell myself you didn’t see anything too pertinent.”
“That sounds like a good thing to tell yourself.”
Rachel closed her eyes; she could feel a blush stealing across her cheeks. Stupid motel mirrors. “Okay, well, now that you’ve robbed me of that delusion, can we agree to never speak of this again?”
Rick grinned. “Sure. And Rachel – thank you for whatever you said to Ron last night.”
“No worries.” Rachel smiled back at him, happy they seemed to have worked things out. “She loves you very much.”
“She’s pretty fantastic.”
Rachel was tempted to tell him that saying that didn’t replace the need to tell Veronica she was both loved and cherished, but she already felt enough like a busybody, so she let it go. His phone rang, eliminating any chance for conversation anyway.
She could tell from his expression that the exchange was not a good one. When he hung up the phone, he jerked the Town Car into a u-turn so quickly that for a split second, Rachel wondered if they were down to two wheels.
“They aren’t going to call,” Rick told her, his face grim.
“Why not?”
“Because they’ve shot Vance and Harmony. They’re both in surgery at Piedmont. It doesn’t look good.”
“What? What happened?”
“I have no idea. Ronnie didn’t say, but she did say your cover has been blown. There are eyes all over town looking for you.”
“Where are we going?”
“Out of town.”
“No. Take me to Piedmont.”
“I’m not really Jeeves, you know.”
Rachel’s temper flared. “Rick, damn it. Take me to Piedmont. I’m not going to scurry for cover while two friends fight for their lives. You know you want to be there as badly as I do – worse probably. Please, Rick.”
His shoulders fell, and Rachel knew she was right. He desperately wanted to go to the hospital to see what was going on.
“Call Veronica and tell her to bring the cutest outfit in that closet I’ve been raiding. I have a plan. I’m tired of hiding. We are going to be at the hospital with our friends.”
“You know that if I get you killed, Conrad will kill me, right?”
Rachel’s response was a neatly arched eyebrow.
Rick glanced back at her in the rearview mirror and shook his head. “I’ll call Ronnie and ask her to bring some clothes and meet us at the hospital.”
One phone call and several winces later, Rick hung up the phone. “She says she doesn’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t think she’s going to bring you clothes.”
With a resigned sigh, Rachel pulled her jacket off and unbuttoned the top two buttons of the stuffy blouse she was wearing. “I guess I’ll have to do what I can with what I’ve got. Keep your eyes on the road.”
Unfastening her seatbelt, Rachel un-tucked her blouse and shimmied her skirt higher on her waist. She took the belt off the skirt and fastened it over the shirt. Then she peeled the panty hose off and used the pocket knife Conrad had given her to pop the silly little flowers off the tops of her pumps. Once they were an acceptable plain brown, she slid them back on.
She tossed the wig to the side and pulled the pins from her hair, letting it tumble about her shoulders.
“Can you make one more phone call for me, Rick?” Rachel asked as she grabbed a tissue to begin wiping the heavy makeup off her face.
“What’s that?”
“Call Brian and ask him to get a crew from our affiliate over here right away. If those bastards want to kill me, they’re going to have to do it on the evening news. With a little luck, word will spread and we’ll get several cameras there.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Rick?”
“Yes, Rachel?”
“You might want to ditch the hat and jacket when we get there. You don’t want people thinking you’re my driver.”
“I like you so much better than Ronnie’s other friends.”
“Thanks.”
They beat the television crews to the hospital, but that didn’t stop them from striding confidently across the parking lot and into the hospital. Her body language dared the monsters to crawl out from under their rock to confront her publicly in broad daylight. She was almost a little disappointed to reach the information desk unaccosted.
“You’re Rachel Cooper,” the woman behind the desk announced as Rick was trying to explain who they were there to see.
Rachel graced the woman with her most brilliant smile. “I am. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I am such a big fan. I wrote the station to tell them to get you back when you went away.”
“I wasn’t gone – just working on a story. Now I wonder if you could maybe help me on that story.”
“Anything.”
“A couple of my colleagues were brought in by ambulance. Probably a John and Jane Doe with GSWs.”
The woman pecked at her keyboard. “They’re still in surgery.”
“Where could I find that waiting room?”
The woman pointed, still awestruck.
“Thanks.” Rachel gave her a friendly smile and wave even as she grabbed Rick’s hand and raced down the hallway with him.
“That was pretty impressive,” he complimented as they neared the waiting room. “But you might want to let go of my hand now before rumors start spreading.”
“Right. Sorry. Nerves.” Rachel jerked her hand back. “What’s Vance’s last name?”
“Davis, why?”
Rachel ignored his question, picking up the phone on the wall outside the surgery center. She explained who she was, who their John Doe was, and that she was in the hallway with Mr. Davis’ brother. If they could keep them updated on Mr. and Mrs. Davis’ condition, Rachel would be forever grateful.
Rachel was feeling pretty good about herself until the doctor came to find the family of Mr. and Mrs. Davis. Rachel could tell by the look on his face as he pulled his hat and mask off that the news wasn’t good.
“We were able to stabilize Mr. Davis. He’s in recovery now, and then he’ll be moved to a room. All things considered, the damage was fairly limited. He should recover quickly.”
Rachel didn’t catch the rest. She didn’t like the way the doctor emphasized the “Mr.” When she interrupted to inquire as to the status of Mrs. Davis, the doctor gave her a mournful look that answered the question before his words confirmed. “Mrs. Davis had extensive damage to her internal organs. The emergency room staff did everything they could. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Rachel rocked back on her heels. She felt as if she’d been punched in the gut. Instinctively, Rick reached out to stabilize her.
“When can we see my brother?” Rick choked on those last two words.
“We’re monitoring him right now. I’ll have the nurses bring you back soon.”
The doctor left them alone with their grief. The image of Vance tucking the strand of Harmony’s h
air back stubbornly refused to budge from Rachel’s mind. She could hear Harmony’s melodic laughter in response to whatever Vance had whispered to her.
Veronica and Conrad showed up not long after the doctor left. Conrad’s inquiry about the news crews surrounding the hospital was cut short when he saw the stunned look on Rachel’s and Rick’s faces.
Rick was the one to find his voice first. “She’s gone, sweetheart.”
Veronica stumbled into his waiting arms, the sound of her heartache echoing down the hospital hallway.
Rachel’s own heart rebelled at the notion that the sweet young girl was gone. She hadn’t known Harmony as long as Veronica had, but she still wanted to throw herself in Conrad’s arms and weep. Now wasn’t the time, though. The news crews wouldn’t wait around long, and they might be the only hope Rachel had to get them all out of the hospital alive.
“Rick,” she interrupted as softly as she could, “Conrad and I have to go right now. I’m going to try to draw them away from here. As soon as Vance is okay to travel, get him and yourselves into hiding. Get any data you haven’t already over to Brian. We’ll be in touch on the satellite phone, okay?”
He nodded.
“Veronica, I am so sorry to have to ask this now, but do you know what happened?”
“All I know is what I saw on the board I was monitoring. They were online bragging about uncovering a snitch. They said . . .” Veronica paused, regrouping. “They said they put a hole in her belly. They put a hole in both their bellies. They were going to watch them bleed out, but someone heard the shots and called the police.”
Rachel nodded solemnly, rubbing Veronica’s back. “You said my cover was blown – did they know who I was or just that I was trying to set them up?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think they knew who you were.”
“Alright.” Rachel nodded again. “You two go see how quickly you can spring Vance from this place. Have Jeff pull strings to arrange federal protection and transport if you have to. Oh, and ask Jeff to call me when he gets a chance.”
As Conrad and Rachel walked back toward the front of the hospital, Conrad glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “There is zero chance of me convincing you to let me whisk you away from here before going back to take care of this my own way, isn’t there?”
“I’ve been arguing with God for not giving me the ability to smite people,” Rachel admitted. “Perhaps setting you loose on them is the closest I’ll come to it in this lifetime. But they’re like a hydra: kill one head, two grow back. I think our best shot is to surprise them – stop running and turn to face them head on, in the open.”
“You know I’ll fight this battle with you, but the chances of walking away from it unscathed are even smaller than they were with the first plan.”
“Maybe,” she admitted. “Or maybe this time, we win.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
WHEN RACHEL SPOKE TO THE PRESS, she spoke to a rapt audience. Standing in the hospital entryway, she announced that various rumors had been circulating regarding her departure from primetime television, none of them true.
“On July fourth of this year, my little sister was taken by human traffickers, forever changing the course of her life, that of my mother, and even my own. Her abduction woke me up to the fact that slavery not only exists in our modern age;, it is a thriving industry. Like so many others, I shook my head in dismay at the stories circulating the media. I said it was sad. I said it was scary. I never expected it to show up at my back door.
“Unlike the majority of children who are trafficked, Julia is now safe. We were able to recover her. Though her physical scars will heal, she bears permanent emotional scars. She was taken as a young girl, full of innocence, with her entire life ahead of her. She was returned to us with a shattered soul, having lived through more than any woman should have to. Right now, in our country, the largest demographic for newly trafficked individuals is American-born girls between the ages of twelve and fourteen. In one horrible moment, my sister became part of that statistic, and that statistic ceased to be merely a statement to regurgitate. It took on a face and a name. I pray your own daughters never become one of the faces behind that statistic.”
Rachel paused, scanning the crowd to look each camera dead on. Quite a few onlookers had joined the news crews. Several held their phones up, recording her statement for themselves.
Before they could recover or begin to ask questions, she began again. “Since that time, I have been working undercover with a team of operatives to shed light on this evil and to seek the arrest of those responsible for my sister’s capture. Sadly, two members of that team were shot today. One did not survive. Until her parents have been notified, I can’t give you any information as to her identity, but I will tell you she was beautiful and brilliant, and she had her entire life ahead of her. She was the kind of woman who would have changed the world, yet she gave the ultimate sacrifice because she couldn’t live in a world that turned a blind eye to the plight of its daughters, and in truth, even its sons.
“I ask that today, we make a promise to ourselves and our children. Let’s change this world and turn a blind eye no more. I’ve been told human traffickers are smart. Let’s be smarter. I’ve been told they are organized. Let’s be more organized. I’ve been told human traffickers laugh at people like me, those who stand before you and urge you to action. They don’t think you’ll listen. Let’s show them that we are not a joke. We are not complacent. We are not scared. We cannot be manipulated into sitting down and shutting up while they brutalize our children.
“Stand with me and say, ‘No more. You can’t sell our women and children any longer.’ There are laws to be changed, attitudes and behaviors to be changed. It will be hard. We can’t forget about this or move on to the next cause when the wave of media moves on to something else. We must stand firm. The stakes are too high to do otherwise.”
Rachel took a deep breath and glanced over at Conrad, whose barely perceptible nod encouraged her to plunge ahead.
“While I’ve been undercover, my colleagues in New York have been working tirelessly to bring you the full story. The first segment will air tonight. I encourage you not only to watch, but to reflect on what you see. Look at your daughter as she plays, watch your son tossing the ball, and ask yourself if you are ready for your child to be one of the faces behind the statistic. If the answer is no, then you must act. Without swift and decisive action to change the climate in our country, it is only a matter of time until it is one of your children who is lost to this void.
“I’ve been told that because I fought back, if I come out of hiding, I will be killed. Already, multiple attempts have been made to take the lives of those I love. This is my official response to any human trafficker who might make an attempt to harm me or mine in retaliation for me standing up to you: Bite me, you insignificant little worm. Be a man and face me head on, or get the hell out of my yard.”
At that, a cheer went up from the audience who had gathered. Rachel glanced back over at Conrad, who winked at her. She smiled back at him, ready to hide in his embrace. There was nothing more to say at this point, she knew, so she thanked the crowd for their attention and, without heed to who was watching or what they thought, she went to his side. He wrapped her in his solid arms, his quiet strength lending her power.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a car, would you?” Rachel asked, her head still tucked up against him.
“I do. Where can I take you?”
“Anywhere but here.”
“I suppose we need to make our way back to New York, since you just committed them to airing a segment that may or may not be finished,” he suggested.
“Yeah, Jacob’s probably pretty ticked over that one.”
As Conrad drove them to the airport, there was an eerie silence. Rachel wasn’t sure what she expected in response to her little speech: their car to be bombed, random gunmen to show up, or a kidnapping attempt. When all she got was silence,
it unnerved her.
With relative ease, they booked a flight to New York. Jacob wasn’t even mildly surprised to see her show up at the station. Conrad was shown to Rachel’s office, where he set about checking in on their team and their families while Rachel attended a huddle in Brian’s office with both Brian and Jacob.
“You even steal the story that you gave me in the first place,” Brian teased, the twinkle in his eye assuring her he wasn’t angry.
“I don’t try to. Well, I didn’t try to this time,” Rachel amended before continuing. “It was the only way I could think of to get out of Atlanta alive. I figured no one would make an attempt at my life with the cameras on me. If they martyr me, they run the risk of galvanizing the people. This is still your story.”
“I do want to interview you, though,” Brian told her. “You raised some good questions that bear digging deeper into.”
“Did you get a hold of the resources Conrad gave you?”
“I did. We’re flying many of them in this week. We plan to air a segment each night, along with interviews to take the readers deeper into that night’s issue and resources to educate the viewers, tell them how they can fight or make a difference.”
“Bring in some lawmakers, too. See if you can get them to answer on air for their inability to make laws that close the loopholes traffickers are freely jumping through,” Rachel suggested.
“Already done,” he promised.
“I knew you got paid the big bucks for a reason.”
“Here’s the schedule so far. We weren’t planning on running it until next week, but with a little scrambling, I think we can move it up to this week.” He handed her a printout of the proposed segments.
“This is good.” She approved.
“Your video from today is already going viral. We plan to set up a page on the website with some more of the videos you captured while undercover; we’ll see if we can get those to go viral, too.”
“What about bringing in parents to talk about the issue and ways we can all go about keeping our children safer? I mean, I never checked Julia’s friend lists because I was respecting her privacy. Even if I had, I wouldn’t have recognized the traffickers on the list. I would imagine most parents are willing to keep their kids safe, they just don’t know how to go about it. Until I got involved in this, I had no idea the technology at the traffickers’ disposal.”
Devil in Disguise Page 20
