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Authors: Janice Cantore

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BOOK: Visible Threat
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19

B
RINNA LISTENED
to Jack and Ben discuss aspects of their case while she finished her coffee. She realized then just how much she missed Jack. If she could be his partner, it wouldn’t be so bad losing Hero. But he wasn’t going to leave homicide to go back to patrol; it was obvious he was in his element as a detective. She wondered if that also meant he was over the death of his wife and then squirmed when she recognized that she was sizing him up as a date.

“Arm hurt?” Jack asked.

“What?”

“The way you were fidgeting, I thought maybe the arm hurt.”

“No, I was just thinking about Rick.”

He held her gaze and Brinna could have melted. Ben’s phone buzzing with a text interrupted the moment.

“Translator is in the building,” he said as he read the message.

“Then let’s go,” Jack said.

They all left the cafeteria and headed for the elevator.

The girl, labeled Jane Doe as far as the hospital was concerned, was on the fifth floor. On the ride up, Brinna found herself glad to be hitchhiking into part of this investigation even if it was only to watch. Harvey would not like it, especially since she was officially off with the injured-on-duty status, but she had no plans to get overly involved or disobey any direct orders. Thinking about the investigation muted the unease that hospitals gave her. She thought of Rick, no doubt facing a lengthy hospital stay, and hoped his experience here would be a positive one.

Helpless,
she thought,
I feel helpless. That is what hospitals do to me. The feeling is compounded by the fact that there’s nothing I can do for Rick but hope the doctors can fix him.

She thought about her mom and mentally chastised herself about not asking for prayer for Rick. She’d have to do that after they spoke to the girl.

Brinna envied the peace her mother’s calm reliance on prayer gave her. When Brinna picked up the Bible, she wanted to believe that same peace could be hers, but so far she’d only seemed to glimpse what her mom had an overabundance of.

She chewed on a thumbnail and frowned.
I’ve seen prayers answered, like when Jack and I got to the twins in time. But in Rick’s case, is it better to trust prayer than a skilled physician?
She knew that her mother would say yes.

The elevator opened, and Brinna nearly ran into her friend and local FBI agent, Chuck Weldon. He’d just come
around the nurses’ station with two women Brinna didn’t recognize.

“Chuck? What are you doing here?” Jack asked before Brinna found her voice.

“Probably here for the same reason you are. Jane Doe from the San Gabriel River. She’s become a federal issue.” Weldon turned to Brinna. “I hear you’re a swimmer.”

“More like a sinker.” She shook her head and changed the subject. “Why is the FBI involved with our Jane Doe?”

“A tip.” He nodded to the stocky, dark-haired woman standing next to him. The woman looked official in a tailored suit, with an intense expression on her face. “This is Helena. I can’t pronounce her last name. She’s a translator from the Bulgarian embassy. They received an anonymous phone call telling them that the girl from the river is a Bulgarian national and was brought into this country illegally and held against her will.”

Brinna’s ears perked up. This was a big-time felony. “You mean she’s run away from kidnappers?”

“We think she’s a victim of human trafficking.”

“Human trafficking?” Brinna repeated the term as the translation reverberated in her mind:
modern-day slavery
. Anger swelled. Though men could be victims, vastly more women and young girls were trafficked here in the US and in Western Europe. Often they were forced into the sex trade, but they could be trafficked for just about any type of exploitation.

“Yep, if the tip was good, this girl and several others were smuggled into the country and kept in servitude somewhere
nearby as either house servants or prostitutes.” He pointed to the second woman, who looked less serious, softer in a way than the translator. She reminded Brinna of her mom. “Which brings us to Elisa Duggan. She is an independent counselor called in by ICE. If it turns out that Jane Doe is a victim, she’ll have to be evaluated in order to assess her needs before she’s placed in a shelter. State law requires we bring in a nongovernmental agency to protect the victim while we gather evidence.”

“I hope we can find a shelter to place her in; most of the ones I work with are full,” Duggan said.

“I had no idea this was happening so close to home,” Brinna said. “For some reason I thought it was mostly closer to the border, and that the victims were largely Hispanic and Asian.”

“Unfortunately it’s an equal-opportunity crime. It’s prevalent in parts of Europe and spreading just about anywhere. The bureau is investigating cases all over the country involving all nationalities. The common thread is that the people being brought here genuinely believe they’re coming to the land of opportunity. Instead, the traffickers imprison and exploit them.”

Jack snapped his fingers. “You know, we just received an e-mail alert about a big case of trafficking in San Diego. A patrol officer dispatched to a domestic violence call stumbled on a human-trafficking ring.” Jack turned on his tablet and tapped the screen. In a few minutes he had the alert up.

“Here it is.” He held up the tablet for all to see. “Several women and young girls from the Philippines were brought
to California supposedly to meet husbands. Once here, they were kept locked down and forced to be prostitutes. All of them were housed in one large room with only curtain partitions for privacy. The owner of the house brought johns in and made a lot of money.”

“And the cops went there on a domestic violence call?” Brinna asked.

Jack nodded. “Yeah, the man’s wife found out what he was hiding in the back room and the fight was on. Neighbors called the police.”

“Human trafficking is more prevalent than we might want to think, and it’s growing faster than drug trafficking,” Chuck added. “You figure, once a kilo of cocaine is sold, it’s gone; the dealer has to replenish his supply to make more money. Unfortunately human traffickers have discovered that human contraband is a reusable resource. Their victims can be exploited over and over. No break in the flow of money.”

Chuck tapped Brinna on the shoulder. “Brin, little kids are becoming a big part of it. This is something you’ll want to sink your teeth into.”

“I’ll start a file. Like I said, I’m surprised it’s happening in our backyard, but I’ll be no less ready to deal with it.”

“How are these people getting into the country?” Ben asked.

“Sometimes legitimately
 
—on visas or with valid passports. That’s why we don’t believe this girl was kidnapped. She probably came here willingly. But once here, the trafficker confiscates her ID, tells her the police in this country are not to be trusted, and then puts her to work, keeping her
prisoner. Sometimes they’re smuggled across borders as well. Our northern and southern borders, along with many ports, can be off-loading sites.”

“Excuse me.”

Everyone turned at the voice. A tall, gray-haired woman with wire-rimmed glasses stood in the hallway. The white coat and stethoscope gave away her profession.

“I’m Dr. Rachel Kallen. The young lady is awake and alert. I can give you a few minutes with her.”

“Thanks.” Chuck nodded, and all of them started for the girl’s room.

“One caution.” Dr. Kallen held a hand up. “She’s badly frightened. Aside from the physical abuse, there are signs of sexual abuse as well. She responds better to women than men, so go easy.”

Ben looked at the doctor and shook his head. “There are too many of us. Jack, I’ll let you go in. I’ll head back downstairs and find Maggie and Molly. Come get me there when you’re done.” Ben turned back to the elevator.

Jack nodded and cast a glance at Brinna as they made their way to the room. “Maybe you should take the lead here.”

“Let’s see what she has to say to the translator first,” Chuck said.

20

T
HE GIRL WAS OBVIOUSLY FRIGHTENED
 
—and young. Brinna wanted to say she looked all of twelve or thirteen years old. Pale except for the bruising along her jawline and neck, she seemed to try to shrink into the bedding as everyone filed into the room. One did not have to be a trained observer to realize that the girl was especially apprehensive about Jack and Chuck.

Chuck motioned to the translator, and the woman stepped close to the bed. She began speaking in Bulgarian. The girl’s eyes kept darting from the translator to Chuck and back again.

Helena kept talking, her voice soothing. The girl nodded once or twice but said nothing.

“She is Bulgarian but afraid,” Helena said after a couple of minutes, looking at Chuck.

“Make sure she knows she’s not in trouble here. She’s the victim. We want to help.” Elisa Duggan held her hands out and smiled at the girl.

Helena relayed the message. The girl shook her head violently, and tears began to fall. Words came out in sobs. Helena reached out and patted her shoulder. The girl cringed.

Brinna wondered what they could do, what it would take, to convince the girl they were on her side.

Helena stepped back. “She doesn’t believe you will help her. She says that police don’t help people like her. She really believes you’ll kill her or return her to her prison.” Helena folded her arms. “This is common. In Bulgaria the police often assist the traffickers if the money is right.”

“Can you impress upon her that this is America and the police don’t work that way here?” Brinna asked. “I mean, that’s why she’s here in the hospital.”

The girl looked at Brinna, then jabbered something to Helena.

Helena smiled. “She recognizes you and has asked me about your arm.”

Brinna held up her cast, amazed the girl could remember her after the chaos in the water. “I’m okay. It’s just a slight fracture. She remembers me from the river?”

Helena spoke to the girl, who seemed to calm down.

The translator smiled at Brinna. “She tells me that you saved her from death. She wants to thank you.”

Brinna jabbed a thumb at Jack and Chuck. “Tell her I’m a police officer just like these two guys and I was doing my job, which is helping people. We all want to help her. No one in this room wants to see her hurt anymore.”

Helena translated. The girl looked down at the blanket she had gripped tightly in both hands. To Brinna, it seemed
as though there was a monumental struggle going on inside her: give in to fear or open up to trust. A wave of understanding flowed through her like a warm Santa Ana wind. The young girl had known nothing but abuse and victimization since she’d come to America. She’d been wrenched from the familiar into a horrible nightmare, like all the young girls Brinna dedicated her life and career to rescuing.

Brinna felt a strong bond, a connection to the pale, battered foreigner. Whether or not the girl would ever feel the connection Brinna now felt didn’t matter. Brinna knew she was bound to do whatever she could to help her and bring the creep who did this to justice.

Finally, still looking down at her hands, the girl spoke in heavily accented English. “Ivana . . . my name is Ivana. Please, where is my sister, Villie?”

21

“Y
OU MUST GO
to the hospital and find out about her.” Simon paced the warehouse. Magda had convinced him that any conversation about the girl was better held in a private place. In part that was true, but it was also a stall. She’d needed time to think about the situation before making any comment on what she would or wouldn’t do.

He’d waited here at Demitri’s warehouse on the water until she could get away for a late lunch, and from the looks and smell of the place, he’d smoked a case of cigarettes. She had used the intervening hours to think and to make a phone call. Her mind swirled with schemes
 
—how to in some way use this situation to her advantage.

“I will not. I’m sure there are police everywhere. Your mistake must not jeopardize my business or my life.” Hands behind her back, fists clenched, Magda forced herself to stay ramrod stiff. She’d never dare talk to Demitri this way. But Simon must know that he did not have the same power, the same measure of control.

“Magda, Magda, I don’t have to tell you what Demitri is capable of.” He grabbed her shoulders, eyes desperate and pleading. But absent were threats or bullying. Simon seemed to accept that he was here at Magda’s mercy, not the other way around. “Please, it was an accident. I don’t want to die for an accident.”

She held his bloodshot gaze, both pleased and relieved to see that she did have some power here. Part of her did feel for Simon. She knew all too well how Demitri expressed displeasure. Vivid reminders were ugly purple scars that remained on her husband’s back from Demitri’s ordered beating. But another part of her lusted for revenge. This current situation was a chink in Demitri’s armor, a soft spot vulnerable to attack. And Magda would exploit it for all it was worth.

“Calm down. You can’t think straight when your head is swimming with fear.” Magda pushed his hands away. “We need to wait. To determine what the girl says to the authorities and how the authorities react.”

“But we have only six days!” He pounded his fists into his thighs.

“Think, or you will waste all your time groveling in fear.”

Simon sighed and threw his hands up in resignation. “What would you have me think about? My life is over if Demitri finds out about the girl.”

Magda let herself relax. She had the reins now. It was simply a matter of directing Simon where she wanted him to go. “Maybe it is not as bad as you think. First, what exactly can the girl tell the authorities when they ask about where she
came from? Will she be able to lead them back to the house? Does she know your name?”

“I’m not sure.” He rubbed his forehead. “I guess she doesn’t know much.” His eyes brightened ever so slightly. “She was brought to the house in a panel van, kept in the back room. I don’t believe she could tell them how to find it. When she ran, it was raining.”

“Where is this house, this place where you keep the girls?”

“In Hawaiian Gardens. It’s on a dead end, near the river.” He shook his head. “It would have been better for me if that stupid girl had drowned in that water.”

“Look.” This time Magda grabbed Simon’s shoulders. “This is what we will do. You will go back to the house and wait for me to call. I will look into American law. I don’t think this girl can tell the police much. She will simply be a mystery to them. I don’t think they will put her in jail. Maybe in a couple of days it will be possible for you to get her back.”

“That’s cutting it very, very close.”

“Trust me, Simon. You must think very carefully before you do anything. It will be better to cut things close than to make a mistake by rushing in without considering the consequences.” Magda held her breath and watched as Simon considered her words. He had to believe her. He had to let things proceed slowly, to give her time.

Finally he spoke. “Okay, what you say makes sense.” He held her gaze with haunted eyes. “Just don’t make me wait too long. Please.”

BOOK: Visible Threat
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ads

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