The Collection (13 page)

Chapter 30

Religion keeps countries blind. All forms of worship should be outlawed.

—Comment from the
Global Reporter
message board

“Is something the matter?” Dalmy asked with a cold voice.

“Maybe I'm more tired than I thought,” Mia said.

“It will be a short trip,” Dalmy said. “I promise. Back here and in bed in under an hour. Unless you're not up for it, but in that case we may have to start the deportation process.”

“I don't want to appear unappreciative, or unladylike,” Mia said.
Think. Think. Think,
she told herself.

“Please,” Dalmy said. “Be yourself.”

“I wouldn't know what to say to a man,” Mia said. “I've never been alone with one before.”

“But your husband . . . ,” Dalmy said. “Right? It will be just like that.”

“Even we were never alone together,” Mia said. “He celebrated with his friends too much on our wedding night and when we arrived here he locked me in the bathroom, angry at me because he chopped off my hair the night before.”

“That's horrible,” Joseph said. He sat back down and Dalmy did the same.

“So you've never known the private company a male companion can offer in any sense?” Dalmy asked.

Mia shook her head. She saw her hosts look at each other with large grins.

“An innocent girl,” Dalmy said. “I think people might pay a large sum for her time.”

“I agree,” Joseph said.

Mia felt her skin crawl. Even if she hadn't known these people's true intentions she would have figured it out by now.

“We'll have to change the hair though,” Joseph said. “Maybe some new clothes too. Ones that fit better.”

“I'm free tomorrow,” Dalmy said. “I can have the girls come by and help.”

“I have the perfect idea,” Joseph said. “A party. Here, tomorrow night, in Jeanette's honor, welcoming her to our small town. We can introduce her to the locals.”

“Don't go to all that trouble for me,” Mia said.

“Nonsense,” Dalmy said. “It's for us too. We can show off our new girl, and who knows? Maybe someone will want to spend time with you here.”

Mia nodded her head.

“It sounds nice,” she said, her stomach turning at the idea.

“It's settled then,” Dalmy said. “Tonight, rest up; we have a busy day tomorrow.”

Dalmy called for Ricky and he came into the dining room. They spoke to each other in Spanish. Mia wished she knew what they were saying but decided it couldn't be any worse than the previous conversation.

“Ricky's going to walk you up to your room,” Dalmy said. “He's going to keep an extra-close eye on you. It can be difficult sleeping in a strange place; we don't want you running off and hurting yourself. He'll be outside your door all night if you need anything.”

Mia stood up and Ricky grabbed her arm.

“Is this necessary?” Mia asked.

“We have some strange customs here,” Dalmy said. “Meeting you has been a gift and we'd hate for anything to happen to you.”

Mia couldn't read Dalmy. She didn't know whether the woman was dropping the façade or was protecting her new investment. Probably both. Either way Mia's best bet was to continue playing the naïve girl. She gave a sheepish grin and Ricky led her out of the house.

Mia debated attacking him and pulling his gun, but she could tell his defenses were up and she wouldn't be successful. Mia wasn't good at initiating conflicts, only defending herself during them. In the morning, Mia would make her move. Dalmy would be nearby and if Mia got ahold of her Ricky would likely toss his gun. That was her best chance for now.

The back stairs were unlocked this time. Ricky led Mia up and to the end of the hall. He pushed open another unlocked door and let go of Mia's arm. He didn't wait for her to respond before pulling the door shut and locking it from the outside. Mia searched the room, happy when she found a small garbage can. Sickened by the night's experiences, Mia unloaded the contents of her stomach into the receptacle. A chill ran up her spine when she was done. Her confidence was faltering.

Chapter 31

The South Area is claiming Grant Marsden as their own, but the Northeast Area says it doesn't matter where he's from, but where he chose to settle.

—
American Gazette

It felt like a good day to wear pink, Grant thought. He took off his silk pajamas and pulled on a pair of pink-and-blue-striped shorts. He chose a thin pink dress shirt and rolled the sleeves up, completing his getup with a pair of tan sandals. He heard the vibration of his cell phone and picked up the device.

“Did you find anything?” Grant asked.

He had expected to hear from Rex last night.

“Sorry for the delayed response,” Rex said. “I found the town. The welcoming committee took my phone.”

“Is my bride there?” Grant asked.

“I think so,” Rex said. “I gave the cover story and I was invited to town by one of Joseph Ruiz's acquaintances. His daughter came to check me out, asking questions about Americans and if I was searching for my wife.”

“So she's suspicious?”

“To prove myself I had to hand over quite a bit of cash,” Rex said. “But there's something off about this place.”

“Find the girl and get out of there,” Grant said.

“They think I'm a high roller,” Rex said.

“Do you need more money?” Grant asked.

“No,” he said. “I buried some supplies in the desert before I made my entrance. I had to wait until it was late, then snuck out and dug them up. That's how I got this phone.”

“Get confirmation on the girl and get out of there,” Grant said.

This mission was poorly planned. Grant couldn't do much from a distance and wasn't familiar with Mexican culture.

“I thought you wanted me to trail her,” Rex said. “What if she's here?”

“What makes you think that?” Grant asked.

“Well, after I flashed your money, Miss Ruiz invited me to an auction tonight,” Rex said. “A virginal American is joining her team of working girls. Tonight's the unveiling.”

“So you believe that Amelia is a prostitute now?” Grant asked.

“I doubt she has much say in it,” Rex said. “From the look of this place the men here wouldn't have a problem with that either.”

“What about her male companions?”

“Not here,” Rex said. “I can hunt them down, but so far no sign of them.”

This was unexpected. Grant's plan wouldn't work without Amelia's men. He debated his next move. Leaving Amelia to that lifestyle might be a fitting punishment for her betrayal.

“Maybe she will get what she deserves either way,” Grant said.

“Boss?” Rex asked.

While Grant was working in the armed forces he'd visited a brothel or two, as all men had. He doubted his headstrong little wife would enjoy herself. But the pictures of her floating around Saint Louis were plaguing him. Leaving her alive was too big a risk.

“I want to kill her myself,” Grant said. “But if there's no other option, win tonight, and when you're alone, shoot her in the head. No loose ends.”

“Yes, sir,” Rex said.

“Call me when it's finished,” Grant said.

He hung up his phone. It was a fancy machine capable of accessing the Internet and never out of service range. The screen was created from synthetic diamonds and uncrackable. It could be submerged in water up to a mile deep without breaking and could locate any person with a cell phone in the world. The phone was indestructible. This type of technology wasn't available to the general public, but Grant's status afforded him many luxuries. He set it down on his dressing table and picked up its mate.

It was a standard-issue civilian phone. It flipped open and couldn't do anything but handle calls and text messages. This one was special though; its casing was dirty and starting to chip, but it was sturdy. This little piece of technology was supposed to bring Amelia back to him, so he could inflict the suffering on her she deserved. He debated destroying the machine, since his plan was falling apart. But Grant couldn't do that, not until he had confirmation of his wife's passing.

Grant's personal phone rang again, breaking his concentration. He looked at the number and picked up the call.

“Dr. Schaffer,” Grant said. “Please give me an update.”

Chapter 32

What if it was your daughter trapped in such a life? Wouldn't you beg for someone to step in and help?

—Comment from the
Global Reporter
message board

The door to Mia's cell flew open. That was what she was calling her room. It was plain, with no windows or closets. The only furniture was a bed in the center of the room. Mia couldn't even find a loose nail to use as a weapon. She didn't remember falling asleep.

“Hello,” a female said, greeting her. She was pretty, with long, dark hair. Two others followed her inside. “We're here to get you ready,” she said. “For your big night.”

“Where's Dalmy?” Mia asked.

She saw a guard with a gun close the door and turn the lock, keeping Mia inside this room with these women.

“She couldn't make it,” one said.

The women carried several boxes with them. They set them down on Mia's bed and started taking out their contents. One was plugging a machine into an outlet, while another started holding up pieces of hair to Mia's head. The third grabbed Mia's hands and started cleaning her nails.

“What's going on?” Mia asked.

“I already told you,” she said. “We're making you pretty. Stand up.”

Mia did as she was told, still trying to process the situation. One of them took her measurements and wrote down the figures. Mia glanced down at the bed, which was now covered with makeup brushes and hair accessories. This was a standard makeover. A game Mia used to love playing with Whitney back at her father's house. This time it wasn't a game.

“So these men are going to pay to talk to me?” Mia asked.

The three girls giggled.

“Yes,” one said. “Talk all night.”

“Ow,” Mia said.

She raised her hand to the nape of her neck; it stung from a burn.

“Sorry,” she said. “Trying to get your new hair attached.”

“By fusing it into my head?” Mia asked.

She had assumed someone was bringing her a wig.

“Extensions,” the girl said. “Sit down again.”

Mia did as she was told. These girls were moving fast. None of them could help her. She needed Dalmy; her life was the one Mia could trade for Carter and Andrew. Horrible memories of her appraisal invaded. The procedure that earned her a price tag for the Registry. This scenario echoed that, only this time it would be in person. In arms' reach of men who sought to buy her. There was no way Mia was going through that again.

“Stop,” Mia said.

She pulled her hand away and stood up. The three girls looked shocked.

“I want to see Dalmy,” Mia said.

“Are you getting nervous?” Dalmy said.

Mia spun around and there was her captor at the door, looking glamorous as ever.

“You three wait in the hall for a minute,” Dalmy said, coming inside.

The girls got up and left. Ricky walked into the room. He shut the door. Ricky's rifle was gone; now he had a handgun hanging in a holster. It was easy for Mia to see. Her eyes went up and met Dalmy's; the woman wore a cruel smile.

“What's your husband look like?” Dalmy asked.

“Brown hair, blue eyes, average height,” Mia said.

“What's his name?”

“Michael,” Mia said.

“Last name?”

“Riley,” Mia said. If she used Grant's real last name there was too much risk.

“Mr. Michael Riley, a brown-haired, blue-eyed American,” Dalmy said.

“What's going on?” Mia was trying hard to fight her nerves.

“You show up one day before another American, with loads of money ready to toss around,” Dalmy said.

Mia's eyes widened at that. Was Grant here?

“Are the two of you working together?”

“No,” Mia said.

“Do you know what is expected of you tonight?” Dalmy asked.

“Yes,” Mia said. “As I stated earlier, I'll do anything to avoid going back to my husband. What did the American look like?”

“Not like the man you just described,” Dalmy said. “Jeanette, I want to believe you, really, but this might be too much of a coincidence.”

“I'm just a girl who ran away from her husband,” Mia said. “Nothing else.”

If this new American man was somehow connected to Grant, Mia had more to worry about than just Dalmy's intentions. Dalmy's face seemed to relax a bit. She broke eye contact and started walking around the bed.

“Are you really a virgin?” Dalmy asked.

“Yes,” Mia said.

“Your presence has caused quite the commotion, and the people are excited. You could pull in tens of thousands for us tonight.”

“I went for a lot more than that in the Registry,” Mia said.

“I'm sure you did,” Dalmy said.

Mia couldn't read Dalmy. She wasn't sure if the woman was speaking sarcastically or not.

“I could have this man disposed of, if he is your husband. Would it bother you if I did?” Dalmy asked.

Mia was relieved. If Dalmy took care of whoever was here, that would clean up some problems. Whoever this American was, his presence was a blessing. It made it harder for them to connect Mia to Andrew and Carter. She thought twice before speaking up. Acting like someone who was indifferent to the death of another might spark Dalmy's curiosity even further.

“Ricky's gun,” Dalmy said. “It didn't scare you. In fact, none of them do. Why is that?”

“I'm from a farm,” Mia said. “I've been around guns my whole life.”

“So you know what I want from you and you're on board?” Dalmy asked. “Is that your story?”

“I'll do what I have to not to get deported,” Mia said.

Mia kept her eyes glued to Dalmy's. Both of them were trying to feel each other out.

“I have people watching that man,” Dalmy said. “If he tries anything funny, I'll make the call and he's dead.”

“I'm not with him,” Mia said.

Dalmy gave a small laugh and started walking toward the door.

“Be a good girl and let these ladies make you beautiful. Life can be pleasant here. All things are more enjoyable when you're dressed for the part.”

Dalmy opened the door and walked out. Ricky stayed; he was more than ready to pull out his gun if need be. The three girls came rushing back in and started working on Mia again. She didn't protest. Mia told herself nothing had changed. Tonight was the night she'd make her move. All she needed was a weapon.