Visible Threat (22 page)

60

B
RINNA STOOD
with her arms folded, an uncomfortable position with the cast on her left, and surveyed the small room within which her mother had been held captive. She knew her mom had been there because of the slippers. Near the door, next to the dead man, they’d found two pairs of slippers. One belonged to her mother. They’d been a Christmas gift from Brinna last year. The second pair was new and smaller, and Brinna could only surmise that they belonged to Ivana. The fact that the slippers were there could indicate one of two things. Either Ivana and Rose left the building so quickly the slippers came off, or they weren’t ambulatory and didn’t need the slippers.

Brinna refused to consider the second possibility. And the scene didn’t support it. There was no other blood than that of the dead man. He’d been shot twice, and they’d recovered two casings. No, she decided that Simon had panicked and rushed the two women out of the warehouse. Everyone was gone before SWAT arrived. But what spooked him?

The coroner had not yet removed the dead body, and they hadn’t learned much from him. He had no ID and who or what he was in this mess was a mystery. Brinna didn’t think he’d been dead long; she’d seen enough dead bodies to feel comfortable with her assessment. The coroner could pinpoint the time of death, but knowing that to the minute wasn’t going to get her any closer to finding her mother.

Jaw set, she watched the lab tech work, clenching and unclenching her good fist beneath her elbow. Brinna felt frustrated by the fact that they had no more leads to follow. A federal forensic team would arrive shortly to go over the warehouse with a fine-tooth comb. Long Beach PD was bowing out; SWAT was demobilizing; everyone was going home. The last place Brinna wanted to go was home.

They had to do something, or she was certain she’d climb right out of her skin.

“Brin.” She turned as Jack approached with a cup of coffee. He and Ben would be the department’s liaisons with the Feds.

“Thanks.” She took the offered cup in her good hand and gulped, nearly choking on the bitterness. “Has she come up with any other ideas?” Brinna rasped and nodded toward MOC-1, referring to Magda Boteva. The woman seemed shocked when they’d discovered the warehouse was empty. Brinna had avoided talking to her, still simmering with the knowledge that Magda had known about the exploitation of dozens of young women for years and done nothing.

Jack shook his head. “This is the only location belonging to Demitri that she was privy to. At least we know your mom
and Ivana were here.” He pointed to the slippers that had been marked but not bagged yet. The lab tech’s camera flash went off every few seconds. “We were just late.”

“I’ve been thinking about when kids are abducted.” Brinna took a deep breath, blew it out, collecting her thoughts. “What do the bad guys do when they are on the run with a victim? In my experience, they either give up and throw themselves on the mercy of the judicial system, or they kill their victim, get rid of the evidence, and run. When they’re cornered, they go with the option they think will benefit them most.”

“This guy’s got to know we’re on his trail. His picture went out on every local and cable news station available. He’s more or less cornered,” Jack said. “Any insight on what you think he’ll do?”

“I need to know more about him. When I chased Corliss, I knew the creep. I knew how his mind worked and what he was most likely to try. I refuse to believe catching him was pure luck. I was in his mind.” She took another swallow of coffee, realizing that the only way she could gain any insight into the man who held her mother was to talk to Magda. She had to get past the anger that made her want to throttle the woman and instead pick her brain about this abductor.

“Chuck has everyone on alert at the other locations. It’s possible this guy might flee to one of those houses.”

Brinna drained the coffee cup, then crushed it. “Maybe.” She faced Jack. “I need to talk to
 
—” She jerked her head toward MOC-1. Tossing the cup in the trash, Brinna walked past Jack toward the command center, hoping she could keep
all the frustration and anger she felt from bubbling over while she tried to get what she needed from Magda.

Magda and her husband had their heads together and were speaking in low tones when Brinna entered MOC-1. Welty was drinking coffee and munching on a doughnut.

“You mind if I talk to her?” Brinna asked.

Welty shrugged, his mouth full. His expression said,
Go ahead.

“Excuse me.” Brinna stepped toward the couple.

The woman looked up, her eyes red and puffy.

“I want you to tell me all you can about this guy, this Simon.” Brinna leaned against a counter.

Magda cleared her throat. “I’ve told Detective Welty everything.”

“Everything about where he might be. That’s not what I’m asking. I want to know about the man. What’s his position in this organization? What is his role with the girls? What kind of guy is he? Anything you can tell me about him will be helpful.”

The woman took a deep breath. “I . . . I’m not certain. He’s not Demitri’s right-hand man
 
—that would be Emil, and Emil is with Demitri.” She glanced at her husband, whose expression seemed to encourage her to go on. “I think Simon was simply responsible for watching the girls. Demitri told me once or twice that Simon had a calming influence on them. He was not responsible for discipline or for recruiting. He lived at the home with the girls and saw to their needs.”

“Their needs?”

“Yes
 
—food, clothing, that sort of thing.”

“A civilized jailer, you mean?” Brinna blew out a breath, right hand absentmindedly moving to scratch an itch on her left hand she couldn’t get to. “And you never went to any of the houses where the girls were kept?”

“No. I was not part of that. I only
 
—”

“You only lured the poor girls here by promising them jobs.” Brinna’s anger would stay bottled up no longer.

Magda’s husband started to speak, but Magda waved him quiet.

“I never! That was Demitri.” She stood and faced Brinna. “Demitri is behind all of this.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re just as bad as he is. You knew what was happening, and you never lifted a finger to help those girls.”

“What could I do? Demitri would have killed me, killed my family. He is a vicious animal.”

“You were afraid,” Brinna mocked the woman. “Then why come forward now? Couldn’t he still find a way to kill you?”

“Yes, he could.” When Magda met her angry glare, Brinna recognized something in the woman’s eyes. Something she’d seen before . . . in the eyes of victims who’d been abused over and over until they finally decided to stand up to the abuser. There was a spark of fight in those eyes along with a glint of fear.

Brinna took a step back as the edges of her opinion of the woman softened.

“I can’t stand by and let another girl be hurt, no matter what happens to me,” Magda continued. “Whether you believe me or not, that is the truth. I must be my sister’s keeper.”

That statement took Brinna by surprise. “Your sister’s keeper?”

“Yes. It is a story from the Bible. About a brother who murders a brother, and God
 
—”

Brinna waved her quiet and cast a pained glance at Jack, who looked surprised. Rubbing her brow, Brinna grimaced. “I remember hearing that story in Sunday school. Let’s get back on topic.” She exhaled. “How do you know Simon if you never went to the house? How do you know what he did?”

“From time to time I would see him here. Every so often Demitri would bring me here when new girls arrived. He would help coordinate things for the girls.” Her voice broke, and she seemed to pull strength from somewhere to keep from crying. “I didn’t interact with the girls. Demitri brought me here to be sure that I knew he was in control.” She blew her nose. “And Simon has also been to my shop.”

“Your shop?”

“Yes, he had been there once or twice with Demitri, but most recently he came there when the girl ran away.”

Brinna frowned. “Why did he come to you?”

“He thought I would help him. He knows I fear Demitri
 
—we all do. He thought I would help him get the girl back.”

“But you didn’t,” Brinna said, half to herself. “Does he know you went to the police?”

“I don’t know. He may now if he sees his picture on television. But Demitri must never know. Do you understand that if you find Simon, we can stop this madness before Demitri returns?” She held her hands out, pleading with
Brinna. “If we stop Simon, perhaps we can stop Demitri and save many, many more girls.”

Brinna stared at her, wanting to believe the intensity in her voice. But the anger simmering inside clouded her thoughts and threatened to boil over.

“How long ago did he call you?”

“Just before we went to the police station.” Magda looked at Anton. “About seven or eight hours ago now, I think.”

A glimmer of hope formed in Brinna’s heart. “Maybe he’ll call again.”

61

A
LONG LINE
of federal vehicles wound down the road to the warehouse, passing MOC-1 as the RV transported Magda, Anton, and LBPD personnel back to the station. Once there, they set up camp in the detective bureau conference room. Brinna tamped down her smoldering anger with Magda and confronted the woman.

“You must know more than you are saying
 
—you must! These people call you; they visit your store. How many years have you been party to their brutality?”

Magda seemed to melt into Anton. But when he started to say something, Magda stopped him.

“No, I will answer.” She pushed away from him. “How long, you ask? Too long. I have lived in fear too long. But I was never a part of their brutality, and I’m trying hard to make up for it.”

“What are you hiding? Are you protecting yourself from something incriminating? There must be
 
—”

Jack stepped forward and placed his hand on Brinna’s arm. “Brin, she’s been helping. I think your anger is misplaced.”

She turned on him, ready to hit him with both barrels, but the love and concern in his eyes stopped her.

“I have told you everything. If there were something else, I’d
 
—” Magda’s voice broke and she held both hands out, palms up, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Brinna blew out a breath as what Jack said cut through her angry haze. He was right
 
—she wanted Demitri and Simon and was lashing out at Magda. She stomped away from the group to sit by the window.

Jack and Welty brought Ben up to speed. He’d come to the station after finishing up with Hawaiian Gardens and wanted to know what happened at the warehouse.

Magda and Anton settled in on the other end of the room and called the neighbor who was watching their children, asking whether it was okay that they stay the night. Though Jack had said they could leave Magda’s phone in case Simon called and go home, Magda wanted very much to stay and see everything turn out for the best.

By now it was close to ten o’clock. Everyone was exhausted, but hope burned in Brinna that Simon would call Magda one more time and give them something to go on. The store owner’s phone lay plugged into a charger on Jack’s desk.

Brinna positioned her chair closer to the window. She sat as still as she could, fighting restlessness, and stared out into the dark night. That she was tired was an understatement.
She felt worn out, and her wrist continued to throb. It was difficult to keep her thoughts clear and not dwell on the discomfort she felt, emotional and physical.

Why did Simon move the women?
she wondered again.
He panicked, left in a hurry. What spooked him?

“Magda.” Jack’s voice cut into Brinna’s musings. She looked to where Jack had pulled a chair up and sat close to Magda and her husband. “Tell me about you being your sister’s keeper.”

Brinna tuned in to hear the woman’s response. Most of the anger she’d felt toward Magda Boteva had dissipated. She’d dealt with too many victims like her whose lives had been twisted and dictated by fear. Brinna realized that Jack was right; Magda was just as much a victim as Ivana. Demitri had reached out and brutalized her family, thereby brutalizing the woman. Now the anger Brinna felt was directed solely at Demitri Dinev.

“I came to realize one night, after hearing my husband tell our children a Bible story about Cain and Abel, that we are responsible for each other.” Magda answered Jack as she smiled and squeezed Anton’s hand. “I mean ‘we’ as human beings. I have been ashamed at myself for letting these girls suffer for so long. I had to step forward, no matter what the cost, to save myself as well as those girls. Please forgive me for being a coward.”

“In Bulgaria,” Anton spoke up, “Magda would have been murdered quickly for saying anything about this situation. She needed to be certain she could trust you American police.”

“I understand your fear. It can be a paralyzing emotion. I’ve dealt with a lot of reluctant witnesses. I’m glad you came forward now. And Cain and Abel opened your eyes?”

“To me, the story showed a God who was giving Cain an opportunity to confess his wrong and be saved in some way.” Magda squared her shoulders. “I’d felt dirty for so long. I desperately wanted to confess, to save those girls, and perhaps be saved myself in the process. Does that make sense, Detective O’Reilly?”

“Yes, it does.” He glanced at Brinna, and she held his gaze, understanding more about Magda but still worried sick about her mother.

“I am ready to accept the consequences,” Magda continued. “Will I be charged with a crime?”

Jack shrugged. “That’ll all be up to the DA. He’ll consider everything
 
—what you hid, how you helped
 
—all of it. That you were afraid to say anything will also figure in.”

“That is what I have been telling her,” Anton said. “My wife has been in fear for her life for years.”

“I’m sorry I was so angry with you,” Brinna said. “It’s just that I
 
—” Suddenly she couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I understand,” Magda said, eyes moist. “You fear for your mother as I feared for my family.”

Brinna nodded and tuned the rest of the conversation out, considering Magda’s reasons for deciding to be her sister’s keeper. She knew the story of Cain and Abel and had always considered it simply in the context of mankind’s first recorded murder. That it taught the broader implications Magda had voiced had never occurred to her.

My sister’s keeper.
That phrase kept repeating in Brinna’s mind. As she thought about the story, she remembered the dodge Cain voiced when God fronted him off about where his brother, Abel, was. “Am I my brother’s keeper?”

It was a typical criminal maneuver, trying to deflect guilt. A kind of early-man “Hey, you talking to me?” evasion. Of course, it had been perfected over the centuries; Cain didn’t have anything on modern-day criminals.

That the story she’d always thought of as a folktale could be taken the way Magda took it surprised her. The discussions she’d had with her mother and Jack replayed in her mind. Evil, good, pain, death, God
 
—the concepts she’d struggled with
 
—seemed wrapped up in this simple story. Abel was good, Cain evil. Cain committed the most heinous crime when he murdered his brother. God knew, but he gave Cain the chance to confess. He gave Cain the chance for redemption, the opportunity for something good to come out of the evil and the pain. But Cain refused.

Am I like Cain?
Brinna wondered.
Jack and my mom keep saying that what God offers is free. Is he offering me something I should take that will save me?

She closed her eyes, thinking that her mom was in the hands of a Cain. What would this one choose?

*   *   *

A phone finally did ring, but it wasn’t Magda’s; it was Brinna’s. She grabbed it and walked into the hallway to answer. It was Maggie.

“What’s up?”

“Where are you now?” Maggie’s voice sounded strange, like she was whispering.

“At the station. Where are you?”

“I’m in College Park. I took Gracie home but not before I got the address of her neighbor
 
—you know, the one who works at the collectible shop?”

“I remember her mentioning that neighbor.” Brinna perked up, wondering where Maggie was going with this. She hooked the free thumb of her casted arm in a belt loop and leaned against the hallway wall.

“I had to wait a bit for this Laura to come home, and I don’t want to go into it over the phone. Can you get over here?” Maggie rattled off an address.

“Maggie, this is crazy. I’m not sure I want to leave right now.”

“Come on, Brin, how many times have you talked me into crazy things with less information than I’ve just given you? Come here and
 
—oh, stop and get Hero and a piece of your mom’s clothing.”

“Maggie, what are you saying?”

“If I’m on the right track, we’ll call Chuck. If I’m wrong . . . well, I might be in trouble, and I for sure will owe you big-time. But I think I’ve found your mom.”