by Bill Hopkins
Chapter 29
Sunday Morning
Ollie, fettered from head to foot with an orange plastic rope, spoke volumes with his eyes when he glared at Rosswell. In addition to the rope, Jill had used three rolls of duct tape, no doubt to assure herself that the research assistant wouldn't escape. Locking him in a hallway closet had sealed the deal that Ollie would stay put.
Jill handed Rosswell a knife. "Cut him loose." Her almost invisible black eyebrows arched. "You do know how to use a knife, don't you?"
Rosswell suspected sarcasm, explaining his choice to stay shut. Jill hadn't reached the level of trustworthiness in his short book of people he could rely on and he didn't feel up to testing her. She'd lost the crinkly blue waitress dress. Her outfit now comprised black tennis shoes, black socks, tight black ski pants, and a black hoodie. Rosswell approved. He thought it was a good choice of gear for someone slinking around in the dark and taking a judge hostage.
Rosswell flicked the knife through the ropes, then gauged the placement of the duct tape. "This is going to smart."
Ollie screamed each time Rosswell ripped off a piece of the gray tape. When Rosswell finished, Ollie stood and did the shimmy shake. He whimpered. "Houdini didn't cover duct tape."
Rosswell said, "Sorry about that. The best way to get it off is pull it quickly."
"Good thing my body hair is at a minimum."
"Mabel would be ashamed of you, screaming like a little girl."
"Do you know you have a spittoon on your right foot?"
"Take it off." Rosswell eased himself into a chair to allow Ollie room to work the nasty thing off. When Ollie jerked the spittoon hard to the right, Rosswell yelped. "Gently! Gently!" Ollie tried wrenching it off. The thing wouldn't budge. Ollie twisted it hard to the left, then hard to the right, causing Rosswell to yelp. Success! That popped the spittoon from the foot. Dried brown stuff fell onto the floor. Rosswell ordered himself not to think about what the brown stuff might be.
Ollie said, "Sorry about that. The best way to get it off is pull it quickly."
Jill interrupted. "Save it, boys. We've got a situation."
Rosswell said, "No crap. Tell us what's going on."
"Karyn's the bad girl, not me."
Rosswell saw an objection forming in Ollie's face. "Quiet." Rosswell snapped his fingers and pointed at Ollie. "You wouldn't believe what I saw down there. Jill, I need a glass of water." He smacked his dry lips together to emphasize how thirsty he was.
She walked down the hallway, Rosswell limping behind her, and showed him the kitchen where clean tumblers dried in a dishwashing rack next to the sink. After filling a glass from the tap, Rosswell took a long time sipping the tepid water, hoping he wouldn't throw up. The only rebellion his insides evidenced was a loud growl, complaining about missing both supper and breakfast.
Ollie asked, "Isn't anyone going to tell me what's going on, or was my near fatal imprisonment all for naught?"
Jill searched Ollie's face, probably a quest for the source of his whininess. "Judge, is he always that crabby?"
"He's got a bustle in his hedgerow."
"I always wondered what that meant."
"Unadulterated bullshit."
"No," Rosswell said forcefully. "That's not what that means." He finished the water and stared at the empty glass. His stomach lurched but the water stayed down.
"Listen," Jill said, "time's running out. Nathaniel may already know that you all have caught on to his scheme. That means he's searching for you."
Ollie said, "He's been searching for Rosswell a long time. In fact, he captured both of us one time. We barely escaped with our lives. Let me tell you about it."
Rosswell said, "Not now. I want to know what the scheme is." He deposited the glass gently in the sink under the tap, hoping the tumbler didn't tumble out of his weakened grip.
"His guys pick up young pregnant runaways who sell their bodies and their babies to Nathaniel. It's human trafficking."
"It's slavery." Rosswell drew another glass of water. "Do you have any whiskey?" He held the water up to the kitchen light. Pure, no dancing motes, and, as water is supposed to be, tasteless. A shot of booze would round out the taste. Maybe two shots to make it an even number. Was Jill telling the truth? Why should he believe her story? It sounded like something Nathaniel told her to say.
Ollie glared at Rosswell. "No, she doesn't have a drop of booze in the whole place. I already asked her. Not even NyQuil."
"Judge, tell Ollie what you saw in the tunnel."
Rosswell recounted the story of the delivery suite. He finished at the same time he drained the glass of water. "Did you deliver any babies?"
Jill rinsed out the tumbler Rosswell had placed in the sink. "Yes, until I found out what Nathaniel was doing with the children."
Ollie said, "And you found this out how?"
"I overheard Nathaniel talking about it one day." She wiped the sink out with a dish rag. "Let's say that I was someplace he didn't expect me to be, so I did a bit of snooping. He never suspected a thing."
"Sneakiness," Ollie said. "I like that in a woman."
Rosswell steered the conversation back on course. "I need to know two things." He held up two fingers. "Where were you and what did you hear?"
"I overheard Nathaniel selling a pregnant woman on giving birth at the Villa and letting him put her baby up for adoption. He told her he'd give her twenty-five thousand dollars cash so she could start a new life."
"And where were you when you heard this?"
"Hiding in Nathaniel's office. I'd been searching it for info, in case I needed something I could blackmail that bastard with. Insurance, I call it."
Ollie said, "My admiration grows."
Rosswell said, "I've got a message and pictures on my cell phone, which is in my truck. Let me get it."
"Don't bother." Ollie pulled the cell phone from his pocket and handed it to Rosswell.
"My gun?"
Ollie handed it over. "It's loaded and ready to go."
Rosswell pointed to the phone. "Listen." He punched a button.
"Rosswell, come get me. I'm-"
"That call is from Tina. Tina Parkmore, my fianc?e. She's missing and I think someone kidnapped her. She made the call from Sainte Gen. We tracked it back to a payphone on the square." Rosswell clicked through several photos on his phone. "Did you ever see her?"
Jill reviewed the photographs. "No. That voice doesn't sound familiar and I've never seen the woman in your picture. Sorry."
Rosswell said, "I'm almost positive that Nathaniel has her," while thinking, I'm not almost positive about anything. But Jill would never hear that from his lips.
Jill shook her head. "Never saw her although she resembles some of the other mothers we've had."
Ollie's forehead and eyebrows-where his eyebrows would've been if he hadn't shaved them off-furrowed. "We? Then you're as guilty as Nathaniel and your sister."
"Yes, I am. But hear me out. Nathaniel is selling those children. When I found that out, I told Karyn. We had a huge fight. She said that Nathaniel was merely running a private adoption service. I told Karyn that Nathaniel was dealing in human flesh. He literally bought and sold kids. The mothers get sold, too. Obviously, Nathaniel lies to them about what their new life will be like."
Ollie said, "He's paying the girls for their kids and then selling them to people who want a baby and the mommas become sex toys." He ground his teeth. "Nathaniel is a huge pile of human excrement."
Rosswell asked, "Did you see every woman who was in Nathaniel's house? Every pregnant woman?"
"I have no way of knowing that. Nathaniel is a secretive creep. When we-Karyn and I-visited River Heights Villa to check on the expectant mothers, either Nathaniel or Turk would follow us to a room, let us in, and then escort us out when we finished."
Ollie said, "Turk Malone? You know him?"
"Yes. He makes Nathaniel seem normal."
Rosswell said, "Jill, if you'll go to the sheriff and tell him what yo
u've seen, we could bust that place wide open."
Ollie said, "You've told us enough for the sheriff to get a search warrant."
"I agree. Ollie's learned something from hanging around with me."
Jill said, "The sheriff? You mean Gustave Fribeau, the guy with the skinny mustache who chews on those nasty black cigars?"
Rosswell said, "The same."
Jill hung her head as if to indicate she was astounded by Rosswell's blindness. "Judge, do you know who's in that delivery room helping Karyn? Or, I should say, who's making sure that Karyn doesn't do anything odd, like helping the woman escape?"
Rosswell made his face as blank as possible. "How would I know something like that?"
She said, "Because rumor has it that you've talked to her recently."
Ollie said, "Her who?"
A pounding coming from the outside caused Jill to aim her gun at the front door. "You two," she whispered, "get in the closet. If you hear gunshots, stay in there, unless you want your brains smeared all over the walls."
