Trapped in the Mayan Tattoo (15 page)

            Tina started crying
hard, so hard she couldn’t speak. She didn’t know about any picture online but
she couldn’t even get the words out. The more she cried, the more she coughed.

            Her father waited for
the noise to stop before he continued, “They were able to track the IP address
and found you working there in that brothel across the border.”

The tone of his
voice was awful, louder now, harsh and condemning. This was the story he managed
to piece together and now he believed it. His mind was settled. If she could even
get the words out, to explain what really happened, would he listen?

Tina, sobbing
uncontrollably, ran from the table to her bedroom. The tears were so thick in
her eyes she could barely see. She closed the door and sprawled out on her new bed,
crying hard, her hands shaking uncontrollably, her whole body trembling. She
didn’t hear her father approach the door or hear him knock. She couldn’t hold
back the tears any more than she could get the terrible shaking in her hands to
stop.

             Arriving early by taxi
at the Baltimore/Washington International Airport on a foggy morning meant
delays, and Abbi and Louise found themselves moving quickly past people
sprawled on the floor who were trying to sleep off the night or catching a nap
before catching a delayed flight.

“Is our flight to
DC delayed?” Abbi asked as she handed her boarding pass to an agent to check.

“This doesn’t say
DC. It says Roanoke, Virginia. Has there been a mistake?”

Abbi looked at
Louise.

“I just assumed we
were going to DC,” Louise said. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“No clue, but I
guess we’re going to Roanoke,” Abbi said.

“Maybe we need to
talk,” the boarding agent said. “Are you ladies working as escorts?”

Abbi’s eyes grew
huge.

“You mean…
Absolutely not!”

She showed the
woman her very official-looking badge and her other documents.

“We’re with the
government,” Louise said. “I just thought our first meeting was in D.C. today.”

The airline agent
took pity on the two young ladies and managed to seat them on a commuter jet.

Although their boarding
pass had them going to Roanoke, Mrs. Hightower’s instructions didn’t explain
why or what they were to do there. Her instructions simply said to await
further instructions from Gate Keeper.

“Wouldn’t it
really have been smarter for them to send us by train into the city?” Louise
asked.

“Ours is not to
wonder why. Ours is just to do or die,” Abbi said. “I heard that somewhere. It
applies.”

The commuter jet
was already crowded. Overhead luggage compartments were filled to capacity, so
Abbi and Louise stuffed their carry-ons under their seats. The rest of their
luggage would arrive later, separate flight.

Abbi sat by the
window since Louise didn’t want to see out. While they rose above the fog, Abbi
considered their risks and what her mother had done to bring about this mess. Gradually,
as they flew over mountains, she began to realize that this plane was taking
them farther from Washington, D.C., not closer.

“I thought Roanoke
was an island,” she said. “We’re going west.”

“Sometimes they
have to fly west to get east,” Louise said. “Air currents.”

Abbi turned on the
phone Mrs. Hightower had given her. Against airline policy, she checked its maps.

“Roanoke, the
city! The map shows we’re going to be in the mountains, Louise!”

She checked the phone’s
itinerary for the day. It said TBA.

“What’s TBA?” she
asked.

“To Be Announced.
That doesn’t make any sense at all. Why are we wearing office clothes?”

“Mrs. Hightower
knows exactly what she’s doing. There’s no mistake. The boarding passes were
made with our new names.”

Abbi began to
realize how quickly things could change. She practiced the script she had memorized.
While Abbi ran through the lines silently, Louise slept, as if her brain was on
overload and she had powered down.

Abbi also studied
one of the folders she brought from her mother’s briefcase, folders that held
unsubmitted reports that might help identify the people responsible for her
mother’s kidnapping. She picked one at random and began seeing the evidence of
what Mrs. Hightower had said, particularly an increase in the number of missing
and exploited children in cities in the United States.

The actual flight
only took a few minutes. As the small plane approached the Roanoke Regional
Airport, Abbi looked out and saw a clear view of the trees and rooftops and a
noticeable absence of fog. When they landed, Abbi’s federal-issue phone beeped.
A text.

Louise woke up.
Abbi showed her the text.

GO TO THE AIRPORT
MAIN ENTRANCE. LOOK FOR A MAN WITH RED SHOELACES. HIS SIGN WILL SAY ‘MISS
KOWALSKI’ AND ‘MISS SOUFFLÉ’.

Their new I.D.
badges from Mrs. Hightower were in their handbags, ready to put on.
She
texted back.

WE’RE WEARING
WIGS. MINE’S BLONDE.

Louise said, “Ask
him what we’re doing here.”

Abbi texted.

LOUISE WANTS TO
KNOW WHAT WE’RE DOING HERE.

The text came
back: SO DO WE.

“Ugh!” Louise
said. “What the heck ARE we doing here? This certainly isn’t Washington, D.C.”

After getting off
the plane, they went to baggage claim and checked about retrieving their
luggage, delayed by fog but way too heavy for Abbi and Louise to handle through
the airport because of Abbi’s rappelling gear anyway. Luckily it had been sent
on this flight, but now Abbi had to figure out a way to handle it.

Abbi swung around
to look for a baggage cart. Right behind her—she almost ran into him—was one of
the biggest black men she had ever seen.

He lowered the
sign he was holding, laughed, and said, “Allow me, Miss Kowalski”. He handed
Abbi his sign and then picked the luggage up, every piece, in his two large hands
and said, “Walk this way, please.”

“That’s the man
with red shoe laces!” Louise whispered.

Abbi nodded.
“Obviously!”

Her phone beeped
again.

THIS JUST IN. UR
GOING TO A BRIEFING AT THE ROANOKE POLICE DEPT. THEN UR GOING TO CHANGE CLOTHES
AND GO TO WHAT’S CALLED THE KILLING FOREST.

Abbi swallowed
hard. She didn’t know this man with the red shoelaces. He didn’t show them any
identity. He didn’t ask for their real names.

Louise voiced what
the intellectual side of Abbi’s brain reasoned—that this might not be safe.

“This isn’t
smart,” Louise said in a low whisper. “We don’t know him.”

Abbi, happy to be
wearing running shoes, grabbed Louise by the sleeve and took off running in the
opposite direction from Red Shoelaces. They ducked into the ladies’ lounge. Louise
slid on the slick floor of the restroom with a dramatic flair as if warming up
for an Olympic ice skating event.

“Nice moves,
Louise! Wait! Of course we need to go with him. Gate Keeper said. Well, Miss Soufflé,
would you care to powder your nose very quickly?” Abbi asked. She glanced out
to see if the man knew they were gone. He was still walking, talking to them,
not looking back.

“Why do I have to
be Miss Soufflé?” Louise asked in a whisper. “I sound like food.”

“It’s French. Get
over it,” Abbi whispered back. Then she abruptly looked in a mirror to
straighten her wig. “Besides, you look good enough to eat. I, on the otherhand,
look a little haphazard, like a Sunday School teacher who overslept.”

Abbi texted the
unknown texter.

WHO ARE YOU AND
WHO IS RED SHOELACES?

The text came
back: I’M GATE KEEPER. RED SHOELACES IS BIG SAM. HT SENT HIM. IF U RAN AWAY
FROM HIM, BETTER GO FIND HIM B4 SOME1 ELSE FINDS U!

 How would he know
that? They left the restroom to find Red Shoelaces, who looked large and
in-charge. He stood with his arms crossed. His eyebrows were raised but he said
nothing.

“We had to make a
little stop,” Abbi said.

“Yeah, it’s like
that with girls sometimes. Very awkward,” Louise said.

“Uh, sir, what is
your name, please?” Abbi asked.

“Just call me Big Sam,”
he said. He gathered the luggage up again and nodded toward the door. “Our car
is waiting.”

“I’m not going
anywhere yet. You know HT? She has a name for me. What is it?”

“Queen of the Zip
Line.”

“Oh, my gosh!”
Abbi said. Abbi thought he’d say ‘Abeni’ but anyone might look into records and
see that. She’d forgotten Nanny Fanny’s little joke, but it was true! She used
to call her Queen of the Zip Line on their rappelling adventures. And Mrs.
Hightower told Big Sam! Abbi looked up at Big Sam and smiled. There was an
adventure in store. She could sense it.

The black SUV
pulled up and Big Sam loaded their luggage while the driver held the door for
them.

“Do we tip?” Abbi
asked Louise.

“I shouldn’t think
so,” Louise said, still whispering. “We didn’t ask for a ride. We don’t even
know where we’re going.”

“To the law
enforcement complex,” Abbi said.

“Then where?”

“I can’t tell
you,” Abbi said.

“You know. Let me
see that phone.” Then, when Abbi wouldn’t let her have it, Louise asked, “Driver,
where do we go after the law enforcement complex?”

“Jefferson
National Forest, ma’am,” the driver said.

“There! Was that
so bad?” Louise asked, turning to Abbi.

Another text came.

PUT ON YOUR BADGES
AND USE YOUR NEW IDENTITY STARTING NOW.

Abbi showed the
text to Louise who quickly grabbed the phone and scrolled back through texts.

“Killing Forest?!”
she asked with disbelief.
“Killing Forest???”

           
Tina’s father
approached the bedroom door. He knocked.

           
“I’m sorry, Kid.
I’ve been worried sick about you. Let’s find out how to make you whole again.” He
was still unable to call his daughter ‘Tina’.

“It’s not what you
think, none of it!” Tina said.

“I’m sorry I said
what I did. Come on out. We won’t talk again until you’re ready and I’ll do my
best to withhold judgment. You’re my daughter, for God’s sake! I’ve been a mess
without you! Wondering, worrying, getting only fragments of information.”

Tina sat on the
bed and looked at all the things her father had gotten her. And he was taking
time off to help her. She opened the door.

            “OK,” she said. “Let me
get a shower and change.”

            Tina decided to take a
bath instead. A long, luxurious bath! She had some fresh girly soap that
someone sent when the furniture came and she dried off with a soft clean towel.
Then she stepped out onto a clean floor. It all felt really, really good! She
came out of the bathroom dressed in the only clean clothes she had, denim
shorts and a t-shirt, but with a smile on her face.

            “Daddy, I can’t talk about
it,” she said slowly.

            “Sweetie, let’s get you
well,” he said and he gave her a hug.

            They walked together, the
two blocks to the clinic, in silence. Tina was greeted respectfully by the
nurse practitioner who was expecting her.

            “There’s the little lady!
We’re glad you could come. We need to start by getting you entered into our
system.”

            The nurse practitioner
showed Tina to an examination room and asked her to take a seat while she asked
a few routine questions.

            “When is the last time
you saw your family doctor?”

            “When I was twelve.”
For Tina, that was two years ago but she couldn’t say that. She wondered how
she was going to keep up her new persona.

            “Have you had any
headaches, fever, rashes, dizziness, or anything of that nature since your last
visit?”

            Tina didn’t know where
to begin. She just sat there. In the past six weeks, she had experienced
everything on that list. How much of it was due to drugs, she didn’t know, but
she had refused drugs as soon as she realized what Ramon was doing to her.

            “Well? Have you?”

            Tina still didn’t
answer.

            “What medicines or
drugs are you taking now?”

            “You speak English,
don’t you?”

            This woman sounded
sincere, but Tina wasn’t sure what she should say.

            Tina nodded.

            “And you’re how old
now?”

            Tina tried to think
what her new birth date was.

            “I think I’m 17,” she
said.

            The nurse practitioner
excused herself and left the room.

            A few minutes later
someone different walked in, a man carrying a clipboard.

            “Hello, Tina. I’m Dr.
Feldman. I’m a board-certified OB/GYN. Feel free to tell me anything. I
understand you may have had some rough experiences.”

            He pulled on some latex
gloves while he spoke.

            Tina’s hands began to
shake.

            “Do you mind if I
examine you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Say ‘AH’ and hold out your
tongue.”

The doctor came
toward her with a tongue depressor.

            Tina sat on the chair
and held her lips tight.

            “I need to see in your
mouth,” he said.

            “OK, we’ll get that
later. I’m not here to hurt you. I promise. I need to check the glands in your
neck and see if you might have an infection.”

            Tina sat still but shook
her head and would not allow him to touch her. When he tried again, she yelled,
“Get away from me!”

            “I’m concerned because
your skin tone looks a little jaundiced. Are your hepatitis vaccines up to date?
Have you had any?”