Isabel's Run (39 page)

We reassembled back in the conference room, where Toni had cleaned everything up.

“That was fun,” I said, smiling, after we were all seated.

“Oh, bucket loads,” Toni said. “Good prank.” Kenny wore a smug smile, satisfied with himself.

“We all done with the fun and games? Okay. Moving on to business,” I said. As soon as I had everyone’s attention, I started. “First off, I checked this morning before I came in. No news on Isabel. She’s still listed in critical condition in ICU.”

“Do they know what the problem is?” Kenny asked.

“They say her miscarriage led to an infection. Her body reacted badly to the infection, and it triggered a condition called sepsis. Sepsis is apparently very serious.”

Doc said, “Pri says that with sepsis, it might take a week or maybe more before they’ll even know for sure if she can pull through. Even then, she could be hospitalized for maybe a month.”

“Well, say your prayers for her,” I said. “Isabel’s been through too much as it is.”

We spent the rest of the meeting outlining our duties and roles in the upcoming Ferguson and Sons surveillance job. The retainer check had arrived in the mail over the weekend—just in time to keep me from having to dip into the reserves. We were scheduled to begin installing hidden cameras later that evening. It would be nice to have things back to normal.

* * * *

After the meeting, I called Toni into my office. I closed the door when she came in.

“Uh-oh,” she said, smiling, as we sat down. “Am I getting fired?”

“Nope,” I said. “I wanted to talk to you alone.”

“What? You didn’t get your fill of me over the weekend?” she asked.

I smiled and shook my head. “No. How ’bout you? You sick of me yet?”

“You kidding? I can barely stand you.”

I smiled. “You look really pretty today.”

She smiled. “Thank you,” she said. She paused and then said, “Just today?”

“Let me rephrase. You look beautiful. Every day.”

“Why, thank you.”

I continued. “Yesterday, when I got home, I had the chance to do some thinking,” I said.

“In addition to all the other thinking you did over the weekend,” Toni said.

“Will you stop and let me finish?”

“Sorry.”

I looked at her. “I was with you all weekend long and an hour after you’d left, I found myself missing you.”

“Go figure,” she said.

“Exactly. So I started asking myself ‘what’s up with that?’ See, whenever I’ve been with someone in the past, and I knew that they’d be leaving soon—well, that was pretty much a good thing. A relief. I’m a pretty private guy, and I like my space. Now, though, with you—I’m to the point where just knowing you’re going to be leaving—like yesterday afternoon—well, it really sucks. And you actually leaving—like last night—well, that’s even worse. I don’t like it.”

She smiled. “So you’re saying you like me?”

“No,” I said. I stood up and walked over to her. “I’m saying it took us five years to get together. Silly me. But it’s only taken me three months to realize that I’ve fallen in love with you. I’m flat crazy about you, Toni. And I think I’m getting more that way every day. That’s it.”

She smiled and stood up. “So you’re saying—”

“I love you, Toni.”

She looked at me, and her eyes started to moisten. Then she smiled. “Me, too,” she said, quietly. “I love you, too, Danny Logan.”

I stepped forward and took her in my arms. We hugged for a solid minute, saying nothing. Then I pushed back just far enough to kiss her softly.

“Wait,” I said after a few seconds. “I’m not done. I wanted to give you a present.”

“A present?” she said, sniffling, “This is good. Presents are good.”

I turned and picked up a small box on my desk. I handed it to her.

“Whoa. What’s this?” she asked, looking at me warily.

“Open it and find out.”

She fiddled with the lid, got it off, and then pulled out a shiny gold key. She held it up, knowing immediately what it was.

“When you’re over at my place,” I said, “I don’t want to have to suddenly start worrying anymore about you leaving to go home. I want you to already be home. Us—together.”

She looked at me. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?” she asked.

I nodded. “I am definitely ready. I want you to move in with me. I want us to be together.”

She was quiet for several seconds. Then she said, “I’ve been thinking about this, too. Maybe you’d better sit back down.”

Oh, shit
. That didn’t sound good. Could I have misjudged this thing really badly? I took a seat.

“Here’s the deal,” she said. “Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t want to live together, at least not for real, unless we’re married. And—before you get alarmed,” she said, “this is not a ploy to get you to propose." She smiled. "Believe me, we’re not ready to get married. Maybe sometime in the future, but not today.”

I hadn’t even thought about marriage. Well, that’s not entirely true. I’d thought about it a little. Then, I had started feeling overwhelmed, so I'd come up with a brilliant solution–I decided not to think about it anymore. And now, maybe Toni was right. As usual. Maybe it was still be too early. Things were already moving fast between us. Maybe moving in together now would be too fast.

“Besides–I like my independence,” she continued. “I’m not saying I don’t enjoy my time with you—I love it, actually, but I don’t know if I’m ready to totally give my independence up yet. Obviously, I’m not seeing anyone else. But I don’t want to screw this up between us, you know?”

I nodded.

“So,” she said, “I have a counterproposal for you.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll keep your key,” she said. “And I’ll put it on my ring. But I’m not going to move in with you. At least not formally. I’m going to keep my apartment. That way, I can always tell myself that we don’t live together. At least technically, anyway. Case anyone asks, you live on Lake Union—I live in Fremont. If you piss me off—just in case—then I’ll still have somewhere to go. Separate.”

I started to talk, but she cut me off.

“But I will start moving some things over. This afternoon. And I will start staying with you at your place. At least some of the time. How’s that?”

I was sitting down, and still, my head was spinning. The first thing I felt was immense relief—relief that she wasn’t flat-out turning me down like I’d started to think. And on the heels of that relief, I felt elation. My heart soared. Toni Blair was going to start moving in with me. I smiled. “I can live with that,” I said. Part-time Toni is better than no Toni at all.

She smiled back at me. “Deal, then.”

We both stood up and stepped toward each other. I took her in my arms and held her tightly. “Besides,” she said, “the view at your apartment’s a lot better than the view at mine.”

She was looking over my shoulder, out the window. “The lake
is
nice,” I said.

She smiled and leaned back so that she could kiss me. “I’m not talking about the lake, you big dope. I’m talking about you.”

Sunday, August 19, 2012
10:45 a.m.

THE CONGREGATION AT the Twenty-Third Street Baptist Church spoke quietly to each other as they waited for the sermon to begin. They fanned themselves with hymnals and church bulletins in an effort to keep cool. The church’s ancient air conditioner was working hard, but it was questionable as to whether the air conditioner actually conditioned the air or had given up at some point and simply acted as a large, somewhat noisy fan. But even if it didn’t work well, it was worth a try, since even at the early hour, it was already in the low eighties outside. The people crowded inside needed all the help they could get.

A tall, thin, distinguished-looking black man approached the lectern. He wore a simple black Geneva gown over a blue long-sleeved shirt with a black tie. He was a handsome man, middle-aged with tinges of gray beginning to show in his short hair. Already, his face glistened with sweat. When he stepped up and gripped the lectern, the church became quiet except for the rumble of the air conditioner and the ruffle of the handheld fans. “Thank you all for coming together on this fine Sunday morning,” Reverend Arthur Jenkins said as he looked out across his congregation.

“You all know why we’re here today.” His deep baritone voice, though not raised, reached into the furthest recesses of the old church. “There’s an ugliness in our community—a sin that is an abomination in the eyes of the Lord. Right here, not one-quarter mile from the doors of this blessed church, there are young boys growing up without moms, growing up without dads, growing up without the guidance and moral structure that any small child needs to mature into a righteous man in the eyes of the Almighty. Some of these people are known to have committed some of the most heinous, the most brutal, the most depraved crimes imaginable. Brothers and sisters, these men are literally stealing innocent young children from our community and placing them in servitude to the depraved lust of grown men. They’re taking these innocent children, enslaving them, plying them with drugs, and turning them out onto the street as prostitutes for their own financial benefit.” Reverend Art’s voice began to rise now. “They use these children up, they chew them up, and when they’re finished with them, why, they toss them out just like day-old trash. No second thoughts.” He looked around at the members of his congregation. “And just what do you suppose happens then? What happens to a fifteen-year-old girl who’s been made to be a prostitute for four years—who’s been made to have sexual relations with
thousands
of men in that period of time? What happens to that girl then?”

He paused. “Brothers and sisters, I want to tell you all a story this morning. It’s a story about a girl named Isabel Delgado who went through this very experience. When the men—men from right here in this area—when those who held her decided it was time for her to go sell her body for them—well, she didn’t go along. No. She revolted. God gave her the strength to say, ‘No, I will not!’” His voice thundered across the church. He paused for several seconds, and then he continued, “Now you must understand, brothers and sisters, that Isabel was sixteen when this happened to her—she was older than the children these men normally like to work with. Yes, even though Isabel may have been small of stature, she was tall in self-conviction. Isabel had courage. She told these men no. So they decided to teach her a lesson. These degenerate men took turns raping her. When they’d had their fill, they started in on beating her. They beat her half to death with a hose. They hit her so hard that they broke her arm. But that wasn’t enough, no! Then, they kicked her. The animals!” He was nearly yelling now. “These animals kicked that girl so hard they ruptured her spleen. They kicked her so hard that they killed the child that she was carrying from a previous rape! Sixteen years old and they beat her so bad, she had a miscarriage! When they were finished, when they’d had enough, they locked her in a basement and decided that since she still wouldn’t agree to do what they wanted, they’d just go ahead and sell her. Sell her! Brothers and sisters, I thought slavery been dead and gone for 150 years!”

He took a breath as he looked from person to person. “I’m going to ask you some hard questions, and I’m not asking for a show of hands because some of you would be embarrassed. Just look in your heart instead. How many of you know somebody who’s involved in this sordid business? Some of these men are from around here. You know that. How many of you have received any money from these immoral, degenerate men? If you have, I want you to seek forgiveness from the Lord almighty. I tell you right here and now, brothers and sisters, you will not pass through to eternal salvation with this stain on your souls. No, sir. You will not! You need to choose sides and take a stand and, brothers and sisters, if you’re involved in this, you need to do it fast. You can trust me on this—you do not want to suddenly meet your maker with this item unresolved. You need to take a stand.”

“Amen,” said several people in the congregation, nodding their heads in agreement.

Reverend Art took a drink from a water glass on the lectern before he continued. “Like I said before, some of these immoral, degenerate men participating in this abominable activity are from right around here. You all knew these boys when they were kids.” He looked from face to face. “Some of you know them now. If
any
of you know any of these men, now that you understand what they’re doing, there’s no reason for you not to come forth and seek to stop it. Talk to them! Tell them to stop their sinning! Tell them they must turn to God. It’s up to you, my brothers and sisters! You need to take a stand!”

“Amen!” The audience was more enthusiastic now.

“For those of you with young children, you need to know that they are at risk! You need to gather those young children to you and nurture them and love them and protect them from these degenerates. There are monsters out there, and they are after your children! Don’t let them slide down the slippery slope of sexual enslavement—either as a slave or as a slave master. You need to take a stand!”

“Amen!” the members of the congregation stood and roared their agreement.

Reverend Art allowed the people to retake their seats. “That’s what this is about,” he said, more conversationally now. “It’s about taking a stand. Taking a stand and making a difference in the life of a young child.” It grew quiet for a few seconds.