by Huie,Melissa
This was exactly why relationships never worked out for me. Trust was the essence of everything, and if he couldn’t trust me with his case, or with keeping myself out of the way, then how could he trust me with anything else? With his heart? With his daughter? And now, how the hell could I trust him?
My heart ached. But despite everything, I needed to see him. I needed to feel his arms around me. He had something I never realized I craved—safety, security, and love.
Whatever this bump in the road was, we could work it out. Trust was something you earned, but it could always be repaired…right?
The phone rang, making me jump.
“Agent Parker,” I answered brusquely.
“Yes, Ms. Parker. I’d like to call in that favor now,” a stern voice came over the line.
My interest piqued immediately. “Madam, I appreciate you calling me. What can I do for you?”
She coughed lightly into the phone before replying. “I’m ready to talk…and Agent? Bring the paperwork for a deal.”
I picked up my keys and made my way to the door.
“I’m listening. Where can we meet?”
She gave me the name of a cheap motel off Crain Highway in Glen Burnie, a town on the outskirts of Baltimore. I hauled ass and got there within fifteen minutes. My game was on. I pushed aside any personal issues and focused on what was coming up. This was what I needed. All that relationship crap aside, I had this shit. I collected my thoughts, and scanned the empty parking lot, looking for any signs of deception or trouble. After a quick text to Lucy, telling her where I was, I made my way to the room number that she sent me and knocked on the door. Madam Sin opened the door. Her eyes were cautious, and her body tense.
“It’s just me. I’m alone,” I reassured her in a low voice. She stepped aside, letting me squeeze my small frame just inside the door, then shut it behind me. I surveyed the interior of the room, taking in the ugly, floral polyester bedding and the plastic, wooden table and chairs. A twenty-year-old TV was mounted and chained to the yellow stained walls. With my gun in hand, I checked the empty bathroom and closets, then stood and waited. The Madam’s body was fraught with tension; anxiety rolled off her frame in waves.
“You wanted me here, so here I am. What’s going on?”
She wrung her hands, looking nervous. “We’re just waiting for her. She had to call her husband.”
I held my hand up to stop her. “What the hell are you talking about, Madam? Who’s coming?”
“One of my girls. I couldn’t stand by anymore and do nothing. I had to get her out of there.” Her normally silky, professional voice heightened with hysteria. I placed my hand on her arm and guided her to sit at the small table.
“Why don’t you tell me exactly what’s going on? Start from the beginning.” I pulled out my recorder to get it on record, so I wouldn’t forget any of the details. The Madam took a deep breath and began.
“I’d hoped to never see you again. No offense or anything, but in my line of work, Feds aren’t your friends,” she said with a smirk.
“No offense taken. I get it.”
“I wasn’t always a Madam. I had dreams, goals. But life gets in the way.” She heaved a heavy sigh, and continued on. “My father had great plans for me as well. He was a Senator, and got caught up in some illegal bullshit. Apparently, while he was still in office, they worked out a deal. They would move their drug trade out of his district, in exchange for certain laws being passed. It all worked out for a while, until my father’s debts became too big. He couldn’t pay.”
My eyebrows raised. “What sort of debts did he have?”
Madam shook her head. “My father was a monster. He got his rocks off with the other perverts in the basement of an old office building downtown. His preferences for the unwilling made him an even better target. The Cartel provided what he needed to satisfy his…you know, and my father provided his legal backing to them. He reduced the budget for police, took away the safety and security cameras from the worst neighborhoods in his district, and turned a blind eye to the carnage that was going down. Sure, he spun some great media and used the appropriate buzz words, but he basically did anything he could for the Cartel.”
“And how did no one else find out about this?” I questioned. Something this big, someone would have surely said something.
“Who’s going to listen to a bunch of poor people, the majority of whom are addicted to the very thing the Cartel was selling? The Cartel has been around for decades, and their pull in the local and federal governments are huge. “
The situation was a lot uglier than I’d realized. I nodded, urging her to continue.
“So for a while, it was fine. I had my therapy practice, along with the escort side of the business. The Cartel would frequent as customers, as well as provide protection. In my line of work, you can’t be too careful. When my father died, I thought our arrangement with the Cartel was over. But then Sebastian came by the house. He…”
“Wait, who is Sebastian? Is that the name of Christian Cruz’s other son?” The name had been missing from all the notes and family lineages that we could find. Like Tommy, the name of the other son was a mystery, as were any photos or descriptions.
Her brow furrowed as she thought about the question. “I’m not sure, to be quite honest. We had so many guys coming and going, the family dynamics were not something I asked about. He was supposed to be one of the good ones. He always treated my girls with respect, and paid well. He came to me one day, about six months ago, right after Dad died. They wanted to extend an offer to me. I would get the girls and a handsome profit for the business, and they would have their girls filter through. I would train them for servicing at their other establishments. I would manage the girls, make sure they were clean and healthy, and knew what to do. Something I was already doing on my own, but with their added business, the money was pouring in. And I needed it too. My mother’s nursing care is barely covered by insurance.”
“What made you come to me? Why now?” I asked. If things were going so well, or as well as could be expected when dealing with hookers and a drug cartel, something big must have happened if she was finally coming to me.
She rubbed her face. “Because at first, the girls were fine. They were ones that I would have hired—clean, young, great bodies. They had no fears or issues with sleeping with men for money.”
“But what happened, Madam?”
“All the best girls were sent to Vegas and Miami. The others, the ones with terror in their eyes and track marks on their arms, would vanish from the house. I would ask questions, but would never get an answer. Finally, I stopped asking questions.”
“Why did you stop asking questions?” I demanded.
“Because I was scared of the answers,” she whispered. Her hands shook as she wiped away the tear rolling down her cheek. “Because every time I asked questions, another girl would get hurt. Finally, Bash took me aside and told me that the next question would be my last, so I stopped. I couldn’t go to the police because the Cartel would kill me. They already have me over a barrel with my mom’s nursing home care. They would kill her, just as a warning.”
“We can protect you both,” I said calmly. “There’s always witness protection—”
“Bullshit. I know what happens in that program. You get sent to live in the middle of nowhere with no protection, and the Cartel finds you anyway. Isn’t that what they did with your friend?” she said with a sneer.
“How do you know about Shane?” I snapped.
“It’s hard not to overhear things when the crew meets at your establishment for refreshments. They talked about how they had an inside track into the program, and how they knew at any given moment, who was where. And frankly, Agent Parker, I’d rather be dead.”
That I understood.
“So, who is meeting us here?”
“They brought her to me about two weeks ago. At first, they wanted me to get her clean. She wasn’t of any use to them high all the
time. But, sometime after she arrived, they started using her. And not just for sex, but for testing drugs. They would go into the basement that we rarely used, and they would be down there for hours. I could hear their laughter over her screams of agony. I wanted to do something… anything, to get them to stop. But what could I do? I couldn’t just pick up and leave, and I sure as fuck couldn’t call the cops. But today, early this morning, they left her in the basement by herself. Told me that she was of no use to them, so we were to dispose of her. They didn’t think she would make it. But one of our clients is a prominent doctor over at Johns Hopkins. I called him over and he was able to do whatever was needed to save her. He gave her that OD medicine, or something like that. I’m not sure. We were limited on what we could do, because I knew they would make sure that we didn’t take her to the hospital, but I couldn’t just leave her out there for the jackals. Once she was stable, and coherent, we brought her out to a park down the street and left her there. I couldn’t risk being associated with her, or risk helping her, so I just left her there. But I did call the cops, and watched until they picked her up.”
My heart dropped. “Where is she now?”
“One of the guards at the desk has a favorite girl, so I keep him on retainer. He said that she called her husband and was picked up by him about ten minutes ago, right before you got here. She should be here any minute. I got her husband’s number from the guard and sent him a text with the directions. ”
“What’s her name?”
“Jennie Davis,” she said, with a sad look on her face, just as a knock came on the door.
The name rang a bell in my mind, and once I saw her, I knew. Despite the gaunt face with the dark circles under her eyes, lifeless blonde hair, and the flimsy excuse for a dress, Jennie Davis looked like she did in the pictures that hung on the wall of her brother’s gym. Her dark blue eyes remained glassy and unfocused, and I had to reach out to steady her.
“Do I know you?” she asked, her words slurred. I checked the crook of her arm, and found the track marks of needle pricks, common among heroin users.
“I’m Agent Parker with the FBI, Jennie. And I’m a family friend,” I replied with a sigh. “We want to talk to you.” I pushed her thin frame forward, keeping hold of her upper arm, which was nothing but skin and bones, and I thought back to the pictures. Her face was lively and rosy, her blue eyes glistened. She was a shell of her former self, I thought sadly, as I led her into the dark, musty room.
“Why does the FBI want to talk to me?” she slurred again, her voice weak.
“There’s a few things we need to discuss. Is there anyone you need to call? I thought your husband was bringing you over,” I said gently, as I squeezed her hand. The fog in her eyes had gradually begun to clear, and fear replaced it. When faced with fear, people had different flight or fight mechanisms. Would Jennie fight with us, or help us with what we needed?
“He wanted to make sure I got something to eat, so he dropped me off and went to get me food.”
Anger grew inside of me. What kind of man leaves his drugged up wife in a motel room full of strangers? I needed more answers, and I needed to talk to Sketch. I knew he was looking for her. I hustled out of the room and stood in the corridor, where I dialed Sketch’s number.
“What’s up, Tink?”
“I found Jennie. She’s alive.”
Silence. The only way I knew he was still on the line was because the phone call didn’t disconnect. “Sketch…I know this is a shock, but you have to listen. You need to come up here.” I rattled off the name of the motel, and paused. “She was bailed out of jail, and there are a number of charges against her. But the Bureau needs to talk to her first—”
“No.”
“Sketch, don’t—” I warned, jumping at the edge in his voice.
“No fucking questions until I get there. I’ll be there in twenty.” With that, the line went dead.
Well, fuck me. I rubbed my eyes, and felt a nasty migraine coming on. I needed to push aside any personal feelings and think this through. I made a few phone calls, one being to Rapoles, and another to a public defender that I knew well. If anything, a plea deal would need to be made, and I couldn’t risk bringing either of them into the field office for the proper procedures. Protocol be damned, I thought as I grabbed a soda from the antiquated vending machine.
Headlights swung into the parking lot. I slunk back into the room and closed the flimsy curtains. I motioned for Jennie and the Madam to move into the bathroom, and I pulled my Glock out, ready for anything.
The knock on the door came quietly, as did the low murmur of “It’s just me.” And before I could stop her, Jennie rushed forward and threw open the door.
“About fricking time,” she shot at the person standing in the doorway.
“The drive-thru line was ridiculous.” Oh God, that voice, the one I knew so well. The voice that made my heart jump, and the stupid fucking butterflies flutter was Jennie’s husband. My heart grew heavy, so heavy it ached. I wanted to scream and hit something, but I kept my emotions in check. It wouldn’t do anyone any good to be a heartbroken whiner.
“Noah. Glad to see you could join us.” The ice in my voice was evident as I holstered my weapon. The resignation in his face was visible, almost as if he was defeated. Guilty that he was finally caught in a lie? Who the hell knew, and I couldn’t care anymore. At least not right now.
“Now that everyone’s here, let’s get this done,” I said, with as much professionalism as I could muster.
“Kate, listen. Can we talk? Let me explain…” Noah muttered, his calloused hands clasping around my elbow.
“No. It’s Agent Parker, and explanations won’t be necessary,” I replied in a hard tone. I shook off his hand and sat down across from Jennie, who was shoving food her into her mouth.
“Jennie, you should slow down. You’re going to get sick,” I warned her, but I received the middle finger in response. “Well, let’s get started. Where did you bail her out from?” I directed my question to Noah, but couldn’t bear to look at him.
“Baltimore Detention Center.” He pushed the paperwork toward me, and I gave it a cursory glance. Lewd acts in public, public intoxication, disorderly conduct, assault on a police officer, trying to bribe a police officer, and solicitation. I made a mental note to call the public defender and put the paperwork aside.
“Jennie, as I stated before, my name is Agent Parker. I’m here to help you, but only if you want to help yourself.”
“I want those charges dropped,” she whispered, the food clearing the lingering fog in her head.
“That’s understandable. We’re going to try and make that happen, but only if you can help us out.”
“What do you need to know?” She threw a worried glance over to the Madam, who put her hand over hers assuredly.
“How the Cartel came to find you?”
She gulped down her drink and wiped her mouth. “I was with some friends, just hanging out, you know? They approached the guys to make a buy, then one of them was like, flirting with me and stuff. Promised me some good shit, ya know? So we started hanging out, and the next thing I know, I’m in some stank-ass basement, higher than I’d ever been.”
“What happened while you were down there?” I questioned.
“The guys would take turns screwing me. They would keep me feeling good, though, until last week. Last week they gave me some strange stuff, something I’ve never had before.” She shook her head at the memory. “It made me feel horrible. I hated it. It hurt. It made me see things that weren’t there.” She grabbed Noah’s hand and gave a sad smile. “I wanted to give up. I wanted to die. But the face of our baby girl kept me going.”
I swallowed the thick ball of emotion that had suddenly built up and cleared my throat.
“Did you receive medical care while at the detention center?”
Jennie shook her head. “No. I refused, so they kept me in the drunk tank.”
“When was the last
time they came to you?”
“This morning. They said that they’d be back tomorrow.”
“We need to get a rape kit done. Would you be comfortable going to a private doctor? No one will know that you went,” I assured her.
“No kit. There’s no reason. They would use condoms, then spray me down with hot water after they took their turn. Besides, I just want to go home.”
I turned to the Madam, and raised my eyebrows. “Are they expecting you to be back there tomorrow?”
She nodded. “I need to get back there tonight. Today was our slow day, and not much on the books in the way of appointments. A lot of girls had tonight off.”
“Are both of you prepared to do whatever we ask, to get these guys off the streets?” My question was not normally asked as protocol. Too many people feigned forgetfulness when it came to testifying, or making a report. I wanted to ensure that not only did we get both of their statements on the books, but that they would be willing to go before a judge, or a panel with their stories.
Jennie nodded, and the Madam pursed her lips.
“Do you have any questions, Madam?” I snapped, ready for it all to be over with. I winced internally, even more pissed off that my emotions had gotten the better of me.
“How is our safety going to be ensured?” she asked. It was a valid question, and one I should have anticipated.
“I’m going to put something in place, possibly an undercover at your location. We’ll look into having someone watch your place, but it won’t be set until tomorrow when I can talk to my boss. Do you have an extra phone? Possibly one of those pay-as-you go phones?” She nodded, and I gave her a small smile. “Good. Program my number into it, and use that to call me from now on. There’s no telling what sort of pull the Cartel has with the phone company.” With that settled, I turned to Jennie.
“Do you have a place to go?” She turned back to Noah, and raised her eyebrows.
