Among the Shrouded, page 22
The handgun felt wrong in his hands as he looked down the barrel and attempted to focus on an unseen enemy. He questioned whether he would have the intestinal fortitude necessary to actually use the weapon should the need arise, but he hoped he would feel more confident having it holstered to his hip for the night.
He returned the box to the top shelf of Mildred’s closet and was certain she would never suspect the gun was missing. It had been his father’s and he was grateful for the time Howard had spent with him at the firing range teaching him to use it so many years ago. However, he knew firing at a paper target was much different than firing at a human being and he questioned whether or not he would have the ability to pull the trigger. He prayed he wouldn’t need to find out. Before leaving the house, he buckled the holster to his waist and wrapped his jacket over top in an attempt to conceal the weapon.
The car keys in his pocket felt as foreign as the gun had in his hand. At work that afternoon, Belinda had happily agreed to allow him to borrow her car for the night, no questions asked. He had dropped her off at her home and promised to return the car to her before morning. He hoped it was a promise he would be able to keep.
On his way out the door, he grabbed a large bag of chips from the pantry, a soda from the refrigerator, and a mystery novel he had picked up at the library earlier in the week. He wasn’t expecting to be gone for very long but wanted to take something to keep his mind occupied in case he needed to wait longer than he planned.
He drove carefully around the outer loop of the Baltimore beltway. He was thankful the rush hour traffic was all but gone as he merged onto the expressway and headed north toward Owings Mills. He didn’t really have a plan. All he knew was that he had to do something. Be active. Find some way to convince Mia’s father she needed his help.
As he pulled off the exit ramp, he tried desperately to remember which way Mia had turned when they had traveled together the weekend before. He felt sure they had headed west and within several minutes his suspicions were confirmed when he happened upon the entrance to the sprawling neighborhood where Wayne Brookins resided.
He turned off the headlights of the car just as Mia had done. When he pulled in front of the Brookins’ estate, he was relieved to see there was but a single car in the driveway. He doubled back and parked the car three houses down from Brookins’. From his vantage point, he could easily see anyone coming or going and if necessary, he was poised to pursue a suspect or make a hasty escape.
Alone and unsure of what to do next, he found himself drumming his fingers idly on the steering wheel after only a few minutes. He opened the novel and began to read but worried immediately he would miss something happening. He laid the book on the passenger’s seat and opened the bag of chips. Without taking his eyes from the house, he placed one chip after another into his mouth. The bag was almost empty when he noticed the garage door of the house opening slowly.
He quickly licked the salt off his fingers and turned the key in the ignition. Wayne Brookins appeared from the garage and climbed into the vehicle that was parked in the driveway. Within seconds, Brookins was speeding down the street toward the main entrance of the neighborhood. Without turning on the car’s headlights, he eased the transmission into first gear and followed Brookins onto the main road.
He found it was relatively easy to keep a safe distance and still maintain visual contact with Brookins as they drove toward the city. Traffic was light and Brookins maintained a consistent speed in the right hand lane which kept him from having to jockey around others cars to keep up.
Unsure of where he was heading or what he would do once he got there, he followed Brookins, who exited off the interstate onto North Avenue. As a precautionary measure, he allowed several cars to merge between them as they traveled east, away from the city. Before reaching the historic Baltimore Cemetery, Brookins made a series of right hand turns and he found himself in a deteriorated neighborhood surrounding the old American Brewing factory.
He watched as Brookins parked his car inside of a fenced lot which surrounded a long abandoned warehouse. There were three other cars parked in the lot along with two white commercial vans. Brookins disappeared inside the building and Thomas turned off the car’s engine.
He became aware, for the first time since leaving the Brookins’ estate, that he was sweating profusely and his heart was beating rapidly. The voice inside his head cautioning him to drive away confirmed the involuntary reactions of his body. He had spent his entire life listening to the advice of his inner voice and it had always kept him from being seriously harmed. And now, even though he knew Mia would have immediately followed Brookins into the building, he couldn’t bring himself to get out of the car.
Moments later, from the relative safety of the vehicle, he watched a small group of women, each with her hands bound behind her back, being led out of the warehouse and into the vans. He knew at once he had stumbled upon the holding facility and that somehow, Mia was involved as well.
As the vans pulled away, his instincts continued urging him to head in the opposite direction. He knew with every fiber of his being he was in danger and that the best course of action would be to alert the authorities at once. However, thoughts of Mia compelled him to ignore the anxiety he was feeling and to follow the vans downtown to where they parked outside of a small renovated brownstone tucked away down a side alley.
From his vantage point on the street, he could see neither the vans nor the women contained within them. Desperate to confirm what he assumed to be the truth about what was happening, he reluctantly got out of the car. Each step toward the building caused him physical pain as an internal war raged inside of him. Nonetheless, he crept cautiously along the far wall of the building and peered around the corner into the alley where the vans were parked.
There appeared to be about a dozen women lined up beside the entrance. While a few held their heads high, most of them stared down at their feet and he was saddened by how frail all of them seemed. As he continued to watch, he was struck by how awkward and cartoonish they appeared, each of them dressed in a cocktail dress with matching heels. However, it wasn’t the clothing that disturbed him as much as their faces which were painted with garish cosmetics that distorted what he assumed were beautiful faces beneath.
Without realizing what he was doing, he found himself scanning the lineup for Mia’s face. He was both disappointed and relieved to see she wasn’t there. As the women were led inside the building, he hesitated at the corner, questioning his own motivations. After several moments of quiet contemplation, he decided he would risk going inside for the opportunity to see the faces of the men involved even if he wouldn’t be saving Mia directly.
He unconsciously touched the firearm holstered to his hip as he crept silently to the entrance. The door was warped with age in its jamb and had not shut completely when the last of the men had gone through. He pulled at the door slowly and found that, despite its weight, he was able to open it with very little effort. Once inside, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room. A heavy navy blue curtain was draped from the floor to the ceiling and he could hear men’s voices coming from the other side.
He felt his heart throbbing in his temples and although he was terrified, he slid the curtain to the side just far enough to make out what was happening in the room beyond.
During his life, he had known evil. He had been beaten by men who were supposed to be fathers. He had felt the anger of strangers and seen the unspeakable violence that came as a result. He had witnessed the naïve being preyed upon by conmen. And yet, the evil he saw beyond the curtain exceeded anything he had ever witnessed.
A dozen men milled around the girls, examining them as though they were museum pieces or in some cases, livestock, instead of human beings. He watched as the women were groped and ogled and his stomach churned with disgust. He looked carefully at each of the men and recognized a handful who had attended the party at Wayne Brookins’ home. Some were selling the women while others were buying their services.
As he stood digesting the new information, he was able to make out a conversation between the two men who had driven the vans from the warehouse. He remained frozen in place and quietly listened to what they were saying.
“Whadda ya think they are going to do with the woman cop?” the first of the men asked.
“Walt said they’re gonna keep her for a little while until somebody realizes she’s not coming back and then they’re gonna kill her and dump her out in the mountains somewhere. No one will ever find her,” the second sneered.
“I don’t get why they didn’t just off her from the get go. Make it look like a robbery gone bad or somethin’.”
“I think the boss just needed her out of his hair right away and didn’t want to have to deal with a murder investigation. I heard she was on to all of us. Had photos of us at Brookins’ place the other night.” The man paused to take a drag on the cigarette he was smoking. “All I know is I’m glad she can’t make a big stink from where she is now and soon whatever she had on us will die with her.”
He felt violently ill and struggled to keep from throwing up. Between the heartbreak of watching the women being auctioned off and the realization that Mia’s life was in immediate danger, he could no longer maintain his composure and quietly hurried outside.
In the alley behind the building, he fell to his knees and vomited repeatedly until the violent spasms that shook his body finally subsided. After several moments, he attempted to stand up and steady his breathing. He leaned against the wall and thought about the events of the night, trying desperately to make sense of all he had seen and heard. He closed his eyes and focused on what Mia would have him do next.
And then, without warning, a wave of anxiety overtook him. It was so severe, he began to run without having any idea of the reason for his flight. As he crossed the street to where he had parked Belinda’s car, the door of the building opened and one of the men who had driven the van from the warehouse emerged. He was wearing a red sweatshirt.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he called out, drawing his handgun from behind his back.
Without responding or thinking to draw his own weapon, he continued to run toward the car, aware only of the extreme danger of his situation. He heard a shot fired and instinctively covered his head with his arms as he ran to the far side of the car in an attempt to use it as a shield. He hastily opened the passenger side door, climbed in, and straddled the console to make his way into the driver’s seat. As the engine roared to life, he glanced out the window to see his assailant barreling toward him, gun still pointed in his direction. He heard two more shots fired as he took off down the street. Glass shattered all around him. The next thing he saw was the blood.
CHAPTER
37
MIA
Mia picked at her cuticle. She had been alone in the basement for almost three hours and the walls were beginning to close in around her. When the rest of the women were taken to the auction, she had been left behind and was relieved she wouldn’t be subjected to the torment that awaited the others. Her initial relief soon gave way to dread when, upon further rumination, she realized there was probably something far worse planned for her in the coming days. It was a thought she could not allow herself to dwell upon.
During her isolation, she had focused her attention on many different tasks. For the better part of half an hour she considered different ways to escape from her cell. This lesson in futility included using the buckle off her belt as a key in an attempt to pick the lock and ramming her body repeatedly against the door. Neither method proved an effective means of escape although she did succeed in bruising her shoulder severely.
After giving up on escaping, she curled up on her mattress and reflected upon the plight of the other women. She wondered if any of them had successfully wiggled free from their restraints and hoped she had empowered them to take back some control of their situation. She smiled to herself, thinking of the determination she had seen in their faces as they were led from the basement to the auction. She was anxious for them to return.
When she could no longer stand to worry over the women, she hesitantly considered her own situation, recalling all of the events that had transpired since Thomas called her with the news of the traffickers from Belinda’s. She acknowledged she had been careless in her pursuit of the men and she cursed at herself for her lapses in judgment. She knew her first mistake had been searching the precinct’s database from her home computer, especially given her wireless connection. She also realized she had likely been seen at Wayne Brookins’ estate and therefore, so had Thomas.
Her heart ached as she thought of him. By throwing herself into the case on the morning after the stakeout, she had not allowed herself the luxury of reflecting on their night together. However, as she considered the unfortunate circumstances into which he was placed because of her poor decisions, she finally allowed herself to think of him.
He had been kind and tender toward her, considering her needs and addressing her desires as if they were his own. If he had been unsure of himself or insecure in any way, it hadn’t translated into his lovemaking. He had said all the right things, telling her she was beautiful and in his words, ‘amazing.’ With his image in her mind, exhaustion finally took over, and she drifted to sleep.
An hour later, hungry, cold, and utterly alone in the warehouse basement, she woke. The warm feelings that lulled her to sleep had abandoned her and fear and anxiety set in. She was overcome by a sudden realization that she was only in trouble because of her inflated sense of self confidence. She wished she had called Jack to join her on the stakeout instead of placing Thomas’ life in jeopardy unnecessarily. She was well aware that if she had told Jack about her plan, he would have quickly talked her out of it and she would never have ended up locked in the basement.
Depression and isolation continued to overtake her spirit and her mind began filling with terrible thoughts, each one more horrendous than the last. As she paced the length of her cell, she was struck by a possible reason for her discovery and subsequent capture she hadn’t yet considered.
She thought about Thomas and whether he had a connection to the traffickers, holding her breath as she reflected upon the fact that he had been the one to alert her to the men from the bistro; men from the network of traffickers with whom he may have been working alongside from the beginning. It seemed highly coincidental that he should alert her to their presence immediately after she told him about Zocha. It was almost as if he wanted her to have just enough useful information to help him keep tabs on her level of involvement.
She wondered if it was possible that Thomas had been part of some larger scheme from the onset – a scheme that included infiltrating the police department. She thought about the timeliness of when he began participating in the lineups and realized it coincided with the commissioner’s arrival. She fell to her knees as she considered that perhaps he had been planted by the commissioner to keep tabs on her because she was the chief’s daughter.
Now on the verge of tears, she realized she may have been right to doubt Thomas and his missing aura from the beginning. It had been against her better judgment to trust him since his aura wasn’t visible to confirm the state of his soul and now it appeared her lack of prudence had placed her life in jeopardy. She cursed at herself for allowing him into her world.
She tried desperately to hold back the tears she had been carefully controlling from the moment of her abduction, but with her new suspicions, she could no longer hold them at bay.
She sat on the ground and wept heavily into her arms. She wept for the women who were forced into sexual slavery. She wept for Thomas and the love she believed he had for her that she now feared may have only been part of a set up. And at long last, she allowed herself to weep for the desperation of her own situation.
When at last she had cried herself out, she took a deep cleansing breath and refocused her attention on her present situation and the part of her reality she could control - helping the other women to escape.
Minutes later, scraping metal and the sound of footsteps on the stairs alerted her to the return of her companions. She had already wiped her eyes on her sleeves and pushed her own worries from her thoughts as she stood to greet them. She watched the women as they returned to their cells and looked for signs of hope on their faces. Instead she saw only grief and despair. When the last of the women was locked in her cell, the evening’s meager food rations were distributed and Kate received an extra portion. Before leaving, one of the men strode confidently down the corridor and approached her cell.
“Hope you’re not getting too comfortable down here, Officer,” he jeered, “because the boss has big plans for you tomorrow night.”
“Is that right?” she responded boldly.
“Yeah, that’s right. Let’s just say you ain’t gonna be here for much longer, if you know what I’m sayin’.”
Although she felt that she was standing in a pool of quicksand, she did not give the man the satisfaction of a response or a reaction as she stood stoically before him.
“Stupid pig,” he said, before spitting into her face.
He joined the rest of the men at the end of the hall and climbed the stairs to return to the world of the living, leaving them alone once again.
“Well?” she asked, looking around the basement with great anticipation and hoping the women would have something positive to report.
No one spoke. She knew they would expect her to be upset about the man’s revelation of her impending demise, but for the moment, all she was interested in was helping the women escape. A few of the girls were holding back tears and many hung their heads so she was unable to read the expressions on their faces.
