Collateral Damage

by Lynette Eason

  He looked at the face. “How old is she?”

  “Thirteen, or fourteen at the most, according to her teeth and bone growth. She’s been dead for a while. Just a skeleton with clothes on.”

  “Anything on the DNA?”

  “Not yet. I’ve requested it be rushed, but so far nothing. I’ve put her through all of the databases and come up with the same. Nothing.” She shot him a ferocious look. “Who doesn’t report a missing kid?”

  She appeared on screen once more, a frown creasing her forehead.

  “Someone who doesn’t want her coming home? An abused kid?”

  Clarissa made a sound that he thought might have been a growl. Then her eyes softened and she ran her fingers over the skull’s head as though smoothing her hair. “Someone, somewhere has to be missing her, don’t they?”

  “You would think,” he said. “But come on, Clarissa, you’ve been in this business longer than I have. You’ve seen it all too.”

  “Doesn’t mean I have to accept it. She’s a child. A girl. If she’s a runaway, surely there’s a report. If she was kidnapped, same. If she was living on the streets, someone had contact with her.”

  “True, but she could be from anywhere. Just because she was found here doesn’t mean she disappeared from here.”

  “I know that.”

  He knew she did. “What else?”

  “Something really interesting. She’s Caucasian. The bones I had were healthy and intact except for her ankle. It was broken at some point and she had a plate and screws put in it.”

  “Okay. Can you zoom in on her a bit?” She did and Caden took his time studying the girl’s features. “You’ve given her a Middle Eastern look. Why?”

  Clarissa reappeared. “Because the plate had some writing on it. In Pashto.”

  “Pashto?” He frowned as he processed that. “Are you saying she had the surgery in the Middle East?”

  “Well, it sure wasn’t in North America.”

  “Okay, that’s good. Send me the information on the plate, and we can probably trace that to where it was made—and possibly who it was implanted in. That helps narrow things down a bit. What about some of the other victims? Any progress there?”

  She sighed. “We’ve been working in shifts nonstop, day and night, for the past couple days. We finally have all of the bodies in the morgue. I’ve done two of the other autopsies. I think our initial conclusion is correct. You’ve stumbled across victims of organ harvesting.”

  Caden’s stomach twisted again. He hadn’t said anything to the others about this case simply because it wasn’t any of their business, but now Isaiah’s files immediately came to mind, and incredulous as it seemed, he wondered if the two cases could be connected. “I was hoping you were wrong.”

  “I was hoping so too.”

  “So someone is identifying people who need organs, probably charging them a fortune, then finding live ‘donors’ and taking their healthy organs, then burying the evidence.”

  “And pocketing a whole lot of money.”

  Caden dropped his chin to his chest. “I’ve seen a lot of evil in my law enforcement career, but this may take the spot as the worst.”

  She swallowed hard, eyes shadowed.

  “Has anyone been able to match up the other victims with a missing persons report?”

  “That’s the weird thing. We’ve run six of the twelve victims through the databases. And nothing.”

  “Nothing. I can see one or two not being reported missing, but six?”

  “The only one we’ve been able to identify is Carlos Garcia, the adult male you found buried with the young boy.” She went to her desk and pulled a file from the top. “He was in the Army and disappeared about seven months ago from Afghanistan. He was reported as going AWOL.”

  “I remember that case,” Caden said. “It was all over the news for a while.” He shook his head. “Army, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  “In Afghanistan. What part?”

  “Kabul.”

  Caden stilled. “Excuse me, I need to make some phone calls.”

  “Of course.” Clarissa reached for the tripod.

  “Wait,” he said, “don’t hang up.”

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks. And I mean that. You and your team have done amazing work in a really short period of time.”

  At the praise, a flush reddened her cheeks and she cleared her throat. “You’re welcome.” The blush faded. “Most of the bodies are kids, Caden. Used and thrown away like they didn’t mean anything. Like their lives weren’t important or that they didn’t have a purpose for being placed on this earth. I want to stop the people responsible and see them pay for this. I want them to rot in prison or . . .” She looked away.

  He’d never seen her so passionate about a case. Not that she didn’t care about each and every victim that came across her table. She did. But this case seemed to have triggered something deeper.

  “We’ll get them,” he whispered.

  “Yes. We will.”

  Asher’s phone rang and he snagged it off the nightstand to squint at the screen. 3:14 a.m. Caden. “’Lo?”

  “Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, but I’ve been doing a whole lot of research and interesting things are popping up.”

  “Like what?”

  “First, do you know a guy named Carlos Garcia? He was stationed in Kabul, Afghanistan, and went AWOL about seven months ago.”

  Asher sat up, sleep fleeing. “Yeah, I know him. He wasn’t in my unit, but we ran some missions together. He was a good soldier, and frankly, I don’t buy the whole AWOL thing.” He palmed the remaining sleep from his eyes. “Why’d his name pop up on your radar?”

  “He was found in a grave about twenty miles outside Greenville. One of twelve graves. And I just got word that more have turned up not too far from those.”

  “A grave?”

  “It’s a case I’ve been investigating along with SLED and local authorities. Well, I guess I should give my partner the credit. He’s been the one focusing on the case. I’ve been a little distracted, but the crazy thing is, everything is starting to tie together. This case and whatever is going on with you and Brooke.”

  Asher put the man on speaker and rose to slip into the clothes he’d tossed over the back of the chair near the window. “Let me open the door and you can come over and finish filling me in.” Caden had gotten the connecting room next door, with plans to leave first thing in the morning. Probably to continue working on the case he was telling Asher about.

  Asher woke Gavin, who was asleep on the couch, and filled him in. Thirty seconds later, while Gavin was still rubbing his eyes and stretching, Caden stepped inside, carrying several files. He left the connecting door open, and behind him, Asher could see the king bed was covered with the same, including photos, data, and who knew what else.

  “Sorry to wake you guys,” Caden said, “but I figured you’d want to know this as soon as possible.”

  Asher took the top stack of pictures from Caden. “You thought right.”

  He, Asher, and Gavin took a seat at the table. “One of the victims that was dug up is a young girl probably thirteen or fourteen years old. I learned a few hours ago that she’d had surgery that required a plate and screws for a broken ankle. The plate had a serial number on it written in Pashto.”

  Asher froze. “How is that possible?”

  “It’s the next picture.”

  Asher flipped to it and stared at the plate. He easily read the inscription. “But that means . . .”

  “Exactly. It took a while, but with Annie’s help, we traced the plate to the manufacturer—and the hospital where it was used. She had that surgery in Kabul, Afghanistan, three years ago.”

  “Then how did she wind up here in the US, buried with a guy who was in the Army in Kabul?”

  “Now, that, my friend,” Caden said, “is the million-dollar question. Or at least one of them. Who is she? How did she get here?”

  “A
nd why?”

  Caden clasped his hands in front of him on the table. “We think we know the answer to that one. She was too far decomposed for us to be sure, but a few of the other more recent victims were missing organs. Clarissa said they’d been surgically removed. Like by a doctor or someone who knew what they were doing.”

  Asher slumped back against the chair. “Organ trafficking?”

  “That’s what it’s looking like.”

  “Man.” He paused. “But how’d they get here? They’d have to have passports and money and adult supervision.” He trailed off on the last word. “Garcia? Could he have brought them?”

  “Well, not all of them. He died before some of them, but it’s very possible he smuggled in a few.”

  “But that’s not possible, is it?” Asher grimaced and continued without giving Caden a chance to answer. “Never mind. Of course it’s possible, but how would he do it? And why would he do it at all? I remember him well and he was a good guy. Smuggling people into the US to steal their organs doesn’t fit with the guy I knew.”

  “We ran a check on his financials. He had one big cash deposit of forty grand into a checking account that was opened three days prior to the deposit. But he never touched it. In fact, there were never any transactions made on that account after the money went in.”

  “Because he was killed before he could spend it?”

  “I’m thinking so. The timing fits.”

  Asher rubbed his eyes. “I still don’t see Garcia being involved in leading kids to their deaths.”

  Gavin sat silent, looking over the files. Asher knew the man was processing every scrap of information available.

  Caden’s phone buzzed. “It’s Annie.”

  “She’s working overtime, isn’t she?”

  “We all are.” Caden stood by the window, off to the side. “Hi, Annie. Hold on, I have a couple of friends here who need to hear whatever you’ve got. I’m putting you on speakerphone.” He tapped the screen. “Go ahead. You must have something important.”

  “Oh boy, do I. I know who your girl is.” She paused. “Oh, sorry. Hi, friends.”

  “It’s Asher James and Gavin Black,” Asher said. “And hi.”

  “Nice to meet you two. Sort of.”

  “So, the girl,” Caden said. “The one with the plate?”

  “Yes. Her name’s Tasneem Asmahd. She was an orphan living at the Morning Star Orphanage in Kabul.”

  Caden went still and his face paled by about three shades.

  Asher raised a brow. “Caden? You okay?”

  “Yes, but that just confirmed something I suspected. That’s the orphanage where my sister is doing what she calls her undercover work.” He raked a hand over his head. “Annie, I’ve got to go. If you find out anything more, call me. Thank you.” He hung up and immediately punched his screen. “With Sarah’s connection to Ricci and Hamilton—the two guys she got pictures of with her iPad and overhearing them talk about Brooke, and now a girl in a grave who was a resident of the orphanage where Sarah’s working, it’s all connected in some crazy way. I’ve got to reach her and tell her to get out of there.”

  “Brooke said she was working on a story and that she didn’t want to leave even though she had the chance to do so.”

  “That’s right.” Caden held the phone to his ear and paced in front of the couch. “Pick up, pick up,” he whispered. Then raised his voice. “Sarah, call me as soon as you get this. I need you to call me, understand? Please, call me.” He hung up and rubbed his eyes, then turned to Asher. “Something major is going on and we need to figure it out fast.”

  “We need a place to stash Brooke,” Gavin said.

  Asher exchanged a glance with Caden. “Stash her? Why?”

  “Think about it. Organ trafficking is a hugely lucrative business. According to this article”—he waved his phone at them—“kidneys are the most sought after. These people are making millions, so whoever has been coming after Brooke isn’t going to stop until someone stops them. We need to focus, and only by knowing she’s safe will that happen.” He kept his eyes locked on Asher’s for a brief moment.

  Asher nodded. He wouldn’t deny his growing feelings for Brooke, but he hadn’t realized he was so transparent. “I know where she’ll be safe.”

  “Where?” Gavin asked.

  “With my parents. They have the room and a top-notch security system.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Caden said, still pacing and muttering at his silent phone.

  “She’s not going to like it,” Asher said.

  “Then you’ll have to talk her into it,” Gavin said, “because things are about to go to the next level.”

  Brooke could hear the men talking in the other room. It was six in the morning and her stomach rumbled. She wanted pancakes topped with strawberries and whipped cream, a side of bacon, and a bowl of cheese grits. And coffee. Lots of strong black coffee. She thought she could smell the coffee.

  She rose and brushed her teeth with the toiletries she’d gathered from the front desk when they checked in. She dressed in the clothes she’d placed at the bottom of the bed before crashing in it and made her way into the living area, where she found Caden, Gavin, and Asher gathered at the table.

  “Morning,” she said.

  “Morning.” They each mumbled it to her and she frowned at their bleary-eyed appearance. “Oh, come on, you didn’t.” She barely resisted placing her hands on her hips.

  “What?” Asher asked.

  “You found out something last night and let me sleep right through it, didn’t you?”

  “More like three o’clock this morning,” Gavin said. “Caden’s the one who’s been up all night.”

  “Grab some breakfast,” Asher said, “and we’ll fill you in.”

  Bacon, eggs, grits, and an assortment of pastries sat on a cart in the kitchen, and she decided that the pancakes could wait. She fixed her plate and joined the three men at the table.

  She took a bite of the still-warm eggs and Caden jumped right into it. “From the evidence presented to us, it looks like Sarah’s investigation led her to the orphanage and the hospital located not too far from it. She and Isaiah were friends and she trusted him. When she found out she was in over her head—for the first time—she went to him for help.”

  “With what?” A swig of coffee chased a bite of bacon.

  “At first she thought the orphanage was involved in black market adoptions. Then she discovered some things weren’t adding up and decided children were being sold into slavery by the director and a certain doctor who has a lot of involvement with the children there—and it looked like some soldiers were also involved in the transport of those orphans.”

  Her appetite left and she set her fork on the edge of her plate. “Which would explain why her boss allowed her to continue to investigate. She told him about the soldiers’ involvement.”

  “But she didn’t even tell him everything.” Caden drew in a breath. “And now it looks like Sarah’s investigation-slash-story is related to mine.”

  “What?”

  The three men exchanged looks.

  Brooke wadded her napkin into a ball and placed it on the table. “Tell me. Please.”

  She listened as he told her about the mass grave site containing bodies of mostly children, about the plate in the teen’s ankle and the fact that she’d once been a resident of the Morning Star Orphanage.

  “Wait a second,” she said. “How did Sarah know something was going on at the orphanage in the first place? What made her start investigating?”

  “One of the orphanage’s workers, Kristin Welsh, was concerned with the high number of adoptions that were taking place at such a fast rate,” Caden said. “She said adoptions were so rare that it was hard not to notice when one actually happened, but for this number to occur in such a short amount of time—”

  “How many?” Brooke asked.

  “Twenty-seven within a year.”

  Her brow rose. “Oh.” Okay, sh
e hadn’t expected that one.

  “Kristin wanted to make sure the children were being sent to good, reputable homes or, in some instances, back to family.”

  “That’s not so odd, is it?” Brooke asked. “For a child to be returned to a parent after a stint in the orphanage?”

  “No, not odd, but again, it was the increase in numbers she was seeing that caught her attention. She and Sarah had met at a park and become friends. Eventually, Kristin asked Sarah if she would like to volunteer at the orphanage. Sarah said she would and that was that.”

  “So, Sarah and Kristin were investigating where the children were going, and . . . ?”

  “They’re not being adopted. They’re being trafficked for their organs.”

  Brooke’s stomach did a complete flip and nausea kicked in. “No,” she whispered. “Please, that’s not even . . .”

  “I know,” Asher said. “I know. Makes me sick too, but we’re calling in all the agencies on both sides of this. I’ve notified agents in Kabul and they’re already investigating. They’re looking for the doctor involved and plan to pull in the director of the orphanage for questioning, of course.”

  “I see. And what about those who are working on this side of the world?”

  “Again, the alphabet soup agencies are involved.”

  “We’re gathering all the security footage from every camera in the vicinity of the places you were attacked,” Caden said. “We’re asking homeowners for any footage they may have on their private systems, everything.”

  “But how long will it take to watch it all?” she asked.

  “It’ll take time,” Caden said, “which is why we think it’s best you not go home right now.”

  “All right, then where do I go?”

  Asher cleared his throat and she looked at him. “Uh . . . it might be a tad awkward, but how do you feel about staying with my parents?”

  She let out a shaky laugh. “I think that might be more than a tad awkward.”

  “They have the best security system money can buy and round-the-clock staff on the premises. It might be awkward, but it would be safe.”

  “Safe is good,” she said. “But I simply don’t . . .” She shot a pleading glance at Asher. “I don’t do roommates,” she whispered. “Remember?”