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?’
‘We can always withdraw an application,’ Zurich said.
‘Then start it,’ Efren said, his eyes remaining downcast. ‘Thank you for your kindness.’
Zurich gave all four Bautistas their own cell phones and his business card. ‘Call me if you need me.’
Efren didn’t take the phone he was offered. ‘I can’t pay for any of this.’
Zurich placed Efren’s phone on the lamp table. ‘Right now, don’t worry about paying. We’re working for you at no charge because we know how many people are in situations just like yours. Five years ago I worked with a family who’d come from India. He was an engineer with a graduate degree and found himself working in a restaurant for no wages. He was embarrassed, much as you are. Today he and his family are US citizens. Their sons are enrolled at the university. And he volunteers his time to help families like his – like yours – get a new start. We call that paying it forward, and someday I’d like to count on your support in the same way.’
Efren looked up then, his eyes red from crying. ‘Thank you for trying to restore my dignity. But I fear it is too late.’
‘Not too late, sir,’ Zurich said. ‘Remember, you’re not alone in this. We’ll talk again soon. For now, rest.’ He looked at the two agents. ‘You’re going to the temporary shelter for the other people pulled from Anders’s factories?’
‘Yes,’ Kate said. ‘You’ll represent them too?’
‘For now. My office is working to get more attorneys on board. Today it’s just me.’
‘I’ll stay for a little while,’ Annabelle Church’s grandson said. He smiled at Mila. ‘My grandmother made me promise to take care of you.’
As the agents and Zurich left, the CPD sketch artist came in. Scarlett rose to give her a hug. ‘Lana. Thanks for coming in. I heard it’s your day off.’
‘I was cleaning house,’ Lana D’Amico said with an easy laugh. ‘I’m glad to escape it.’
Scarlett led her to where the Bautistas sat, still twined around each other. ‘This is Sergeant D’Amico,’ she said. ‘She’s going to create sketches based on your descriptions of the man and woman who brought you to the city. Sergeant D’Amico is one of my friends. She and I were partners many years ago, before I was a detective. Now she’s a police artist.’
‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ Lana said. Her smile was always so sweet that it put witnesses at ease, and the Bautistas were no exception. All four visibly relaxed when she took the seat that Kate Coppola had occupied.
‘Lieutenant Isenberg? Detective Bishop?’ Cell phone to his ear, Deacon stood in the doorway to the adjoining room, motioning them to come, his expression unreadable.
Lana settled her sketchbook on her lap. ‘Go ahead,’ she said to Scarlett, then turned her smile back to the Bautistas. ‘We’ll be just fine, won’t we?’
‘You’ll want to come too, Marcus,’ Deacon said.
The Bautistas might have relaxed, but Marcus had instantly tensed when Deacon appeared, expecting the news to be bad. Scarlett clasped his hand as they walked into the next room.
‘It’ll be okay,’ she murmured so that only he could hear. ‘It can’t always be bad.’
Deacon ended his call and gave Marcus an encouraging nod. ‘This might be hard to watch, but hopefully you’ll be glad you did.’ He turned his laptop to face them, revealing a lanky young man lying in a hospital bed, his leg wrapped in bandages and mesh. He was handcuffed to the bed rail, trying to look bored but failing utterly. Under the pain was a great deal of fear.
Deacon did a ta-da gesture at the screen. ‘Meet Drake C
onnor.’
Cincinnati, Ohio
Wednesday 5 August, 1.15 P.M.
‘Sonofafuckingbitch,’ Marcus snarled, and took a step toward the laptop. ‘Can that little piece of shit hear me?’
‘No,’ Deacon said. ‘It’s a live feed, but he can’t see or hear us. The agent and detective have earphones, so we can communicate with them.’
Scarlett tugged on his hand. ‘Marcus.’
Marcus drew a steadying breath. ‘I’m sorry. Just seeing him . . .’ He glanced at Isenberg, surprised that she hadn’t thrown him out already. ‘I’ll control my temper better.’
‘I was wondering when I’d really see it,’ the lieutenant said. ‘I was starting to wonder if you were flesh and blood.’
‘Oh, I’d say so,’ Scarlett whispered, and Marcus barely swallowed his laugh, grateful for the distraction. He’d needed a moment to shove his temper down and she’d given him that.
‘I heard that,’ Isenberg said blandly. ‘You shouldn’t poke the bear through the zoo bars, Detective. Especially since we haven’t yet had our chat.’
Marcus’s good humor became a scowl, but Scarlett just shook her head and sat down across from her boss, studying the young man on the screen. ‘Who are the men in suits?’
‘The guy in the black suit is Special Agent McChesney of the Detroit Field Office,’ Deacon said. ‘The guy in the gray suit is Detective Danhauer, Detroit PD Homicide. They have earpieces, so we can ask them questions. The guy sitting on the other side of the bed is Graham White, public defender.’
‘Does Drake know that his sister is missing?’ Scarlett asked.
‘No, not yet,’ Deacon said. ‘Detroit hasn’t told him. But the really good news is this.’ He turned his phone to show them the screen, a photo of a flash drive. ‘Found under the SUV he was trying to steal. He’d tossed it there when the cops pulled into the gas station parking lot. It has his thumbprint on it. Detroit PD says it has several encrypted files. They’re sharing the files with Tanaka. He and Detroit CSU are working to open them. We’ve been comparing notes, prepping the agent and the detective. They’re waiting for us before they start the interrogation.’