Authors: Karen Rose
‘That happens occasionally,’ the lieutenant said dryly.
Scarlett’s lips curved. ‘Yes, ma’am. It does.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘The apartment shooter went to a lot of trouble to make it look like Tala’s killer was simply finishing the job. He used the same model gun and made sure the building’s security camera saw it. He used the same kind of bullets, which he tried not to leave behind, so we wouldn’t be able to do ballistics.’
‘But how does he connect to me?’ Marcus murmured.
‘That’s the million-dollar question.’ Scarlett glanced up at him, understanding in her eyes. ‘Hopefully the Bautistas will give us a sketch of his face. Maybe you’ll recognize him.’
Agent Coppola cleared her throat. ‘There is the possibility that the two aren’t connected at all, that someone else wants you dead and is using Tala’s murder as a cover.’
‘So we’re back to the list,’ Scarlett murmured. ‘Threats made against Marcus’s life because of the exposés he’s run in the
Ledger
,’ she explained to Agents Troy and Coppola, who looked confused. She turned to Isenberg. ‘Where are we on the names I sent you last night?’
‘My clerk’s got last-known addresses for all of them. A few are in jail for other offenses.’ Isenberg looked at Marcus shrewdly. ‘But you knew that already, didn’t you?’
‘I knew it was a possibility,’ he said honestly. ‘I know a few others were in jail and got out and probably should be back in jail.’ That he knew from Stone after his brother had checked all the names on the list for status and recent activity. ‘Many of those people are child molesters and domestic abusers. A newspaper article and a short stint behind bars aren’t going to stop them.’
‘No, it won’t,’ Isenberg said, then turned to Deacon. ‘Any update on that ankle tracker?’
‘Yes,’ Deacon said. ‘It got easier after we picked up the other two trackers that Mila and Erica left behind. The serial number on Tala’s tracker was recorded as having been destroyed by the quality assurance testers at the plant that makes them,’ he explained to Marcus and Agent Troy. ‘The federal corrections system buys from that factory and, as the customer, it’s authorized to do unannounced quality evaluation. The team from corrections seized copies of the factory’s production records for the days on which the three trackers were produced and tested.’
‘Sneaky,’ Coppola praised.
‘Creative,’ Deacon corrected.
Coppola grinned. ‘Potato, po-tah-to. Glad to see that you haven’t lost your touch, Novak.’
Deacon waggled his white brows. ‘Thank you. Anyway, they were able to narrow down the list of employees to just two men who worked all three shifts in which the three trackers were tested. They were picked up this morning when they showed up at work and are being transported to Cincinnati for questioning as we speak. One of the men is responsible for the “destructive testing”,’ he quirked the air with finger quotes, ‘of four times as many devices as the other man. I’ll pull backgrounds on both of them, but I think we should be looking hardest at the guy with the most devices. He may have been selling to Anders, or, if we’re very lucky, he might have been selling to the actual traffickers who brought the victims into the country.’
‘Were all the people rescued from Anders’s factories wearing trackers?’ Marcus asked.
‘Not all,’ Coppola said. ‘Mostly the people who had technical skills, like Efren Bautista. Of those we’ve gotten to talk to us, about a quarter earned university degrees in the countries where they came from, which is consistent with the data we’ve gathered on labor trafficking in the past. They wore trackers.’
‘How many have you gotten to talk to you?’ Marcus asked.
‘Not even a third,’ Coppola admitted. ‘They’re afraid of us. I can’t blame them.’
‘I’d like to talk to them,’ Marcus said. ‘I may have better luck, especially if the Bautistas vouch for me. These people have a right to have their story told, and I want to do it right. I also plan to ensure they get legal representation as the Bautistas have.’
Troy looked skeptical. ‘The attorney Mrs Church’s grandson brought here agreed to take the Bautistas’ case pro bono. I don’t think you can expect him to take on the entire population we extracted yesterday.’
‘I’ll make sure they get representation if I have to pay for it myself,’ Marcus said. ‘But I don’t think I’ll have to. When this story gets out, we’ll have a lot of people volunteering to help them. They’ve been victimized once. I damn well won’t see them victimized again.’
He drew a breath when he felt Scarlett’s hand on his knee, lightly squeezing. He’d grown angry, he realized, and these two agents didn’t deserve that. ‘I apologize,’ he said. ‘I’ll get off my soap box now.’
Agent Coppola’s smile was sympathetic. ‘I don’t want to send them all packing, Marcus. My job is to put away the bastards who tricked them into coming into this country under false pretenses. I have to use whatever means necessary in order to do that, but I can be more effective if they’re not afraid of me. I don’t think I can get clearance to take a reporter in just yet, but when I can, I’ll let you talk to them to coax out whatever information you can. If you can get them representation, all the better. As far as I know, these people haven’t committed any crimes, or if they have, it was under duress and coercion. I’ll propose it to the SAC, see what he says.’
He wanted to scream at the government bureaucracy, but kept his temper checked. ‘Thank you.’
A light knock had them all turning toward the door. Scarlett’s uncle poked his head in, his expression drawn. ‘I think the Bautistas are ready to answer your questions now. But first . . .’ He hesitated. ‘First they want Marcus to tell them about Tala’s last moments. Think of it as closure, son,’ he added kindly.
Marcus had told his story to the cops, to his own brother, but telling it to the victim’s parents . . . He suddenly felt uncomfortable. But then Scarlett squeezed his knee again, her nod encouraging. He pushed away from the table, gathering his nerve. ‘All right,’ he said.
Thirty
Cincinnati, Ohio
Wednesday 5 August, 12.25
P.M.
‘We have a problem,’ Sean said when Ken answered his cell phone while toweling his hair, still wet from the shower he’d taken to wash off Demetrius’s blood. As much as he’d talked up being the monster in the closet to Burton, and as good as he was at it, Ken didn’t like doing it. It was draining.
The screams grated on his ears
.
Harder still was maintaining the balance.
Not enough and they hold back, too much and they die
. He’d left Demetrius alive, but barely. His old friend had more stamina than he’d thought possible. Or maybe his ability to withstand pain was fueled by hatred and a desire for revenge. Or cocaine. Or steroids. Whatever fueled it, Demetrius had held out for so long that Ken had nearly given up.
Now, the words ‘We have a problem’ were enough to make him twitch.
Ken seriously considered hanging up, driving to the airport and catching the first international flight to anywhere that didn’t have an extradition treaty. ‘Only one?’ he asked sarcastically. ‘Today must be Christmas.’
‘You know the tracker manufacturer you convinced Demetrius to tell you about?’ Sean said, ignoring his sarcasm.
Yeah, Ken knew. He’d had to cut off two of Demetrius’s fingers to extract that piece of information. ‘Constant Global Surveillance. What about it?’
‘The Feds did a raid yesterday, took all the factory’s production records. This morning they showed up and took Demetrius’s contact and one other individual into custody. Our contact is en route to Cincinnati as we speak.’
‘Motherfucking sonofabitch,’ Ken growled. ‘The cops have traced the trackers back to the source. They have to have more than the first one to be able to identify D’s contact.’
‘So it would seem,’ Sean said calmly. ‘What are we going to do?’
Ken rubbed his temples. Breaking Demetrius had tired him out, both physically and mentally. ‘I’m assuming the Constant Global Surveillance contact can identify Demetrius, or at least provide the cops with enough information so that they can get a little closer to us. That’s what we have to prevent. I’ll send Alice to wait outside CPD headquarters. She’s no sniper, but she’s a decent long-distance shot. Send a photo of the tracker supplier to her phone.’
‘She’s gonna be mad that you pulled her off O’Bannion. She’s been stalking his office all morning, waiting for him to show up.’
‘She’s going to have to be mad. Just send her the photo. I’ll deal with Alice.’
There was a tapping of a keyboard on Sean’s end as Ken texted Alice to meet him in his home office. ‘Done,’ Sean said.
‘Good.’ Ken quickly dressed and, cell phone in hand, started downstairs to his office, even though he really needed to sleep. ‘What I now want to know is how the cops got their hands on those two trackers that were supposedly in the van with the Anders family.’
Sean was quiet for a moment. ‘If both Decker and Burton saw them in the van but the cops somehow got them, then somebody either took them back into the Anders house or smuggled them to the cops at some point. I am
positive
that those ankle trackers never entered my office.’
Goddamn you, Demetrius
. This whole thing had unraveled because Demetrius hadn’t killed that sonofabitch Marcus O’Bannion nine fucking months ago.
He went into his office, closed the door and sank into his chair. ‘Either Burton and/or Decker is lying,’ he said to Sean, ‘or one of the other two guys that Burton sent to retrieve the Anderses turned the trackers over to the cops. The four of them were the only people who had access to the house. One of the guards was bleeding too badly to do any kind of a double-cross. I don’t know much about the other except that Reuben hired him. Burton said he was green.’
‘His name is Trevino. He was a former cop, just like Burton and Reuben,’ Sean said. ‘I looked him up. Trevino was fired from the force and prosecuted for helping himself to the cocaine he took from dealers. Did three years in prison. He hasn’t been a problem so far.’
Ken digested that as best his tired mind would allow. ‘Well, considering that Burton lied about Reuben’s wife being dead, he’d be my first guess, but I’ll call Trevino in for a chat.’
‘Don’t forget that Decker went back to the Anders house to search for the aunt,’ Sean pointed out. ‘He could have taken them back then.’
Ken shook his head. ‘But the cops were already at the house by then. Decker left before they could see him.’
‘Yeah,’ Sean said glumly. ‘Has Burton admitted to saving Reuben’s wife after you dosed her up and told him to leave her to . . . you know?’
‘You know?’ Ken asked scornfully.
‘Watch what you say on the phone. Just in case we’re being recorded. Something is going on here. One of Reuben’s people is dicking around with you. Either he’s a mole or out for a coup. Maybe it’s even Reuben pulling the strings, sitting someplace tropical drinking piña coladas and waiting for you and your team to turn on each other. He strolls back unharmed when the dust settles and takes over.’
Ken blinked, horrified that he hadn’t considered that himself already. He really was going soft.
Shit.
And he’d all but said out loud that he was sending Alice to commit a murder. He forced his panicking mind to still, to let him think. ‘Burton was steadfast in his denials.’ Translated: Ken had tortured the hell out of him and he hadn’t admitted a thing. ‘I’ll need to be more persuasive. Or maybe I’ll let Decker do it. Then I’ll know if he’s as calm and cool as he wants me to believe.’ His phone beeped with an incoming call. ‘It’s Alice,’ he said to Sean. ‘I’ll call you later.’ He disconnected and went immediately to the second call.
‘Don’t argue with me,’ he started without saying hello. ‘I need you to come here.’
‘You told me to focus on O’Bannion, Dad. I can’t focus on anything with you changing your mind all the damn time.’
‘I told you not to fucking argue with me!’ he snapped, and heard her indrawn breath. ‘I’m still your boss, and until you either buy me out or bump me off, you listen to me.’
A small silence. ‘Yes,
sir
. Where would you like me to focus now,
sir
?’
He almost laughed at the frosty snark in her voice. She was going to make an excellent leader someday. Hopefully soon. ‘I’ll tell you in a second. First, where are you with your assignment?’
‘I thought maybe he’d be at the hospital with his friend, so I waited outside for a while. But he didn’t show, so I went to his office. He’s not there either, according to his receptionist, but she’d probably lie for him if he told her to. I need to follow him to get his routine.’
‘Or lure him. That’s what Demetrius was trying to do. Just not too skillfully.’
‘I’ll consider it,’ she said grudgingly. ‘What’s the new focus?’
‘Sean sent you his photo. He’ll be delivered to the CPD headquarters for booking sometime in the next hour or two. He’s Demetrius’s contact for the ankle trackers.’
‘And now he’s in police custody. Wonderful. I take it you want me to . . .’
‘As cleanly as possible. Then back to the primary focus.’
‘Got it. I’ll call you when I have something.’
‘Hurry, honey. I want this over with.’ Ken hung up, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He needed to sleep. Just a little.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Wednesday 5 August, 12.30
P.M.
Agents Coppola and Troy had interviewed the family while Scarlett sat with Marcus and her uncle on the sidelines. Deacon had gone into the adjoining room to make all the phone calls required to keep the investigation moving. The two attorneys maintained a steady, fairly silent presence, stopping the Feds only a handful of times to explain a term to the family or to make sure they understood their rights as they answered the questions.
Isenberg stayed in the back of the room with Meredith Fallon, who’d been called by Mrs Bautista for her children, even though both Erica and John Paul insisted they didn’t need a therapist. Meredith took no offense, simply smiling as she and Isenberg quietly listened.
Scarlett found her heart breaking again and again, listening to their story, and then to Marcus telling them about Tala’s last days. He’d emphasized how brave she’d been and how much she’d loved her family. The Bautistas had cried, holding each other.
Scarlett found herself wiping her eyes, cognizant that she was not the only one of the observers to cry. Marcus’s tears ran down his face unchecked. He’d seen Tala die and he hadn’t started to deal with the shock. So Scarlett laid her hand on his forearm, lightly stroking his skin with her thumb, just so that he would know she was there.
Efren Bautista dropped his head in shame. ‘I feel so stupid,’ he said when he’d finished telling them how the family had come to be tricked into human slavery.
‘We’re educated people,’ Mila added, clutching her husband’s hand. She hadn’t let go since they’d been reunited. Her son sat at her feet, his arms wrapped around her legs. Erica had her arm in her father’s and her head on his shoulder. The family was intertwined like a vine.
‘We should have known better,’ Efren said wearily. ‘Now my daughter is dead because I brought us here.’
‘Thousands are tricked just like you were, every year,’ Kate said softly. ‘I know it won’t help now, but perhaps someday you can take some comfort in knowing that you’re not alone. And certainly not stupid. These traffickers have a very sophisticated operation.’
‘And you came to work,’ Agent Troy said. ‘You were trying to make a better life for your family. There’s no shame in that, sir.’
Efren shook his head, completely unconvinced. ‘I should have stayed in the Philippines. Tala would still be alive. She would not have been violated, forced to have Anders’s baby.’
‘She’s a beautiful baby,’ Marcus said. ‘Your granddaughter has Tala’s eyes.’
Efren only nodded, his gaze glued to the floor.
‘Let me summarize what you’ve told us so far,’ Kate said, ‘and then we have a few more questions. Okay?’ She waited until Efren nodded, and then went on in a gentle voice. ‘You were approached by a neighbor who’d applied with a recruiter and had gotten a job in the United States.’ She spelled the neighbor’s name and Mila nodded.
‘I hope he didn’t experience the same nightmare we did,’ Mila said. ‘We should try to locate him and be sure. He said he was going to work in New York.’
‘We will make every attempt to find him,’ Kate assured her, ‘but you should be aware that many times the neighbor who tells you about the jobs is paid by the recruiter. Many times the neighbor is still in the home village, living very well by betraying his friends. I’m sorry,’ she added when Efren and Mila looked stricken. ‘I hope I’m wrong.’
‘I hope you are too,’ Mila whispered. ‘The person who told us was Efren’s cousin. I don’t want to think of him suffering like we have, but . . .’ She put her arm around her husband when a strangled cry broke free from his chest.
‘He had a new car,’ Efren sobbed. ‘He said he’d gotten it for his mother to drive when he left. He lied, Mila. He lied and our daughter is gone.’
Scarlett exhaled. To be betrayed by family was another agony they’d have to endure. She met Kate’s eyes and could see that she was thinking the same thing.
Once he’d calmed, Kate began again, asking Efren for further details of his recruitment. Efren explained that the recruiter had charged an exorbitant placement fee for his services, so not only had the recruiter been paid by the traffickers, but he’d stolen the Bautistas’ savings as well. Efren had taken out a loan at such a high interest rate that it was pretty much assured he would never be able to pay it back. He’d come to the United States hoping for honest work and a living wage, only to find himself in a worse situation than any indentured servant.
The family had been separated almost immediately, Mila and Efren only allowed to see each other only four times during the first year, and not at all in the last two. That had been imposed by Chip Anders, who taunted Efren by telling him he was sleeping with his wife and daughters, then forced his compliance by threatening to do the same to John Paul.
‘Do you want to apply for a U visa?’ Peter Zurich, the immigration attorney, asked.
Efren shrugged. ‘I would be humiliated to go home and be laughed at for being such a fool, but I’ll continue to hate myself if we stay, so where we are matters not to me. If Mila and my children want to go back, I’ll go back.’
Mila looked panicked. ‘I don’t know. I . . . I just don’t know.’
‘When do they have to make a decision, Mr Zurich?’ Meredith asked using what Scarlett recognized as her counselor voice. Soothing without being condescending, it had an instant effect on Mila, the poor woman’s panic visibly receding.
‘Within the next few weeks,’ Zurich told them, kindly. We need to get a jump on the paperwork, as the others liberated from Anders’s factories will also be filing applications and there is a ceiling on how many U visas are issued every year.’
‘If they give you permission to start the paperwork and they change their minds,’ Meredith asked, ‘is that a problem?’