The Orchid Tattoo, page 23
“Hey! Stop right there!”
Crap! Lito.
She kept moving, but he stepped in front of her, grabbing her shoulder when she tried to pull away.
“What are you doing?” His breath smelled rancid on her face.
“Exercising. It’s good for me.”
“Exercising? Or eavesdropping?” Lito’s hand squeezed hard enough to bruise her. “What did you hear?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I didn’t even see you—”
“Don’t start that bullshit with me. If you didn’t see us, you wouldn’t be sneaking away.” Lito shook her, the vibration reaching down to her toes.
“Mierda. What do we do with her?” Gunner asked.
Lito reached for the gun he kept tucked in the back of his pants and pressed it under her chin. “I’ll take care of her.”
“Not here. Need to get her off grounds.”
Kitten closed her eyes against a wave of terror. “I’m supposed to be with one of the Russians this afternoon. He’s important to Jefe.”
“Then Jefe will be especially pissed when you don’t show,” Lito growled.
“Lock her in the toolshed. We’ll take care of her after the noon shift change.”
The toolshed might buy her some time but promised to become excruciatingly hot; temps had been reaching the nineties before noon.
Lito pushed her along the path, Gunner close behind. When she stumbled over a root, he grabbed her arm and wrenched it behind her, snapping his elbow into her forearm and sending a blast of white-hot pain. His fingers gripped tighter and jerked, bending her wrist at an unnatural angle, her pain morphing into agony. She’d broken bones before. She knew the drill.
He nudged her toward the small greenhouse where Jefe grew his orchids. Behind it was the green toolshed with a corrugated tin roof. Gunner unlocked the door and Lito shoved her inside. “Tie her up,” Gunner said.
Lito obliged, using rough hay rope to bind her hands and feet and knotting a painter’s rag across her mouth.
“Bring the car here when the guards change shift. She should be nice and toasty then. We’ll drive her off-campus and finish her off,” Gunner commanded.
The door closed with a cold click, leaving her in darkness, save for a lone sliver of light coming in between slats of wood. The small space smelled earthy and rank. She twisted to pull herself up, wiggling to rest her back against a wall. Her wrist throbbed as the bindings compressed against the swelling. Sweat dribbled down her face and off her chin, but the heat would only worsen. I have to escape.
The hay ropes securing Kitten’s hands looked impossible. She’d practiced knot tying with her little brother but didn’t recognize the elaborate configuration Lito had used on her. Thankfully, he’d shown less care with her feet. Using one finger and two thumbs, she scratched into the tangle of rope and, with more patience than she usually had, managed to loosen the knot. A few minutes later, she kicked her feet free of the rope.
Her hands though. No way she could untether them, not with the swelling that bulged between the rough strands and the searing pain shooting up her arm. The gag around her face couldn’t be removed, though she managed to lower it enough to draw a good flow of air. Hot air.
She wiped the sweat from her face with the back of her bound hand as she rose and approached the door. Even pushing all her weight against it didn’t loosen the lock. The few fingers she could access shook the handle, but nothing budged, and her wrist screamed in agony. Despite the dim light, she could tell the walls were simple wood, not concrete, and there was a small gap between two planks. She felt her way to that spot, wedged her fingers in the narrow space, and pulled. At first, the wood held fast but with enough effort, she managed to wiggle one board just a little.
Using her busted wrist to pry the wood more might damage it further. She dropped to the floor and brushed her sleeve against her face. So damn hot. She’d kill for a glass of water, or even a sip from a garden hose. And about six ibuprofen or anything else that might dull the pain. She closed her eyes, deciding to rest for just a little while. Maybe that would settle the ache.
Kitten jolted awake. How much time had passed? It could have been hours. Frustrated, angry, and determined, she leaned back and kicked the board she’d loosened earlier. Again. And again, this time with all her might. It pulled free.
Yes! She scooted over to kick the adjoining slat of wood. This one was more stubborn but channeling her fury into her feet soon disconnected the board from its support. Once she shifted both boards, the space was almost big enough for her to squeeze through. She backed up, inhaled deeply, and smashed her foot against the first board. It broke free.
Panting from exertion and the heat, Kitten squirmed her body into the narrow open space, shoulders, then torso, then hips, tumbling free of the building and down a hill she hadn’t realized was there. Stopping the freefall wasn’t easy with her busted wrist and tied hands. She felt every root and rock poking and scratching as her body rolled and rolled, not stopping until she collided with a tree.
Then all she knew was blackness.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Lillian studied the spreadsheet displayed on her laptop. Revenues looked good—Jefe should be pleased. The weekend seemed to be going brilliantly; Jefe had secured a vote on a transportation bill from one guest for a friend and obtained a defense contract worth two million for a business associate. Amassing these favors was his preferred currency, and they served him well. Few turned away when he called in a debt.
Onyx appeared in the doorway, dressed in a yellow dashiki and gold hoop earrings large enough to be wrist bangles. Beaded bracelets covered both wrists. “Have you seen Kitten?”
“No. Why?” Lillian closed the laptop.
“Nobody’s seen her since early this morning when she went for a run.”
“She wasn’t at breakfast?”
Onyx shook her head.
Lillian checked her watch; it was nearly noon. She shook her head in frustration. Her girls didn’t simply disappear, though Kitten had that history. Still, how would she possibly escape the compound? The fence was electric, set to do serious damage. The gate was manned by a heavily armed security team. Besides, Kitten had seemed very sincere when she promised she wouldn’t run. Something else must have happened.
“We’ve got to find her.” Lillian reached in her desk drawer for a set of walkie-talkies, tossing one to Onyx. Lillian slipped off the stilettos she had on and retrieved some sneakers from her desk drawer. As she exited the office, she heard a male voice booming from Jefe’s office.
“Where is the girl?”
It was Vasily. Lillian drew a deep breath and rapped lightly on the door frame. “Good morning.”
The large man pivoted, pointing a finger at her. “You. Where is the girl from last night? I was told I’d have her this morning.”
Jefe shot her a look that sent ice through her veins. “Lillian?”
“I apologize, Vasily. We certainly don’t want to keep you waiting. Kitten went for a run and, well, we don’t know what happened, but I assure you we will find her momentarily.”
Jefe guided him toward the door. “In the meantime, we have other girls, don’t we Lil?”
“Of course. Shall I bring one to you?”
He pursed his blubbery lips. “I want the girl! I have business I can take care of. Bring her to me when you find her.”
“Certainly.” She forced a smile as he pushed past her and stormed up the stairs.
Jefe came closer. “What the hell? Did she run again?”
“How could she? No. Something else is detaining her.”
“She better turn up. I can’t have Vasily suspecting anything or it’ll screw up a sizeable deal we’re working on. Do you understand?”
“Of course. We will find her.”
“You’d better.”
Lillian found Onyx and sent her with the other girls to search the yard and the area near the helipad. She headed straight for the running trail, starting where it ended behind the kitchen.
The sun throbbed overhead. Lillian wiped her forehead and looped around the pool, past the gardens, toward the greenhouse. No sign of Kitten. Woods flanked her as she moved farther from Jefe’s place. They were familiar to her. The old-growth pines that provided soft needles for her footfall. The scraggly oaks needing to be thinned. The smaller mimosas waving their feathery leaves as she passed.
Kitten wasn’t on this trail.
The notion that Kitten had escaped niggled at Lillian. Had she misjudged her? What if Kitten actually got away? Especially this critical weekend? Jefe would kill her.
Lillian developed a relationship with the kid. Maybe she didn’t quite trust her, but she knew Kitten wasn’t stupid enough to leave at this critical time. Security was too tight. The stakes too high. The consequences too horrific.
She picked up her pace, scanning the trees and the path ahead. As she approached the toolshed, something off the trail caught her attention. An animal? Something sprawled—like an injured dog. Or a coyote. Should she have brought her pepper spray? As she inched closer, she saw it wasn’t an animal.
“Dear God. Kitten?” She rushed to the girl.
Kitten lay on her side, her elbows in the pine needles, her hands bound together. Leaves and bits of grass peppered her hair. A scrape across her right cheek dripped blood. A bandana gripped her chin—had it been used to gag her?
Was she dead? “Kitten!” Lillian shook her with more force than she probably should have. Sluggish blue eyes blinked open. “What happened? Who did this to you?” Lillian demanded.
Kitten looked dazed. When she lifted her hands, Lillian saw the lumps of swelling around her right wrist.
“Jesus.” She went to work on the hay rope knots. As careful as she tried to be, she felt Kitten shudder in pain. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she whispered, working as fast as she could. Finally, the bindings broke free.
As Kitten let out a sigh of relief, Lillian slid a fingernail into the bandana tie and pulled it loose. Kitten wiped her face with the rag.
“Any other injuries?”
Kitten squinted as though not quite comprehending.
“Your head?”
The girl glanced toward the toolshed. “Fell down the hill. Hit a tree.”
“Is that how you hurt your arm?”
She shook her head. “Lito.”
“He tied you up?”
“Him. Gunner. They caught me listening to a conversation. Locked me in the toolshed.”
Lillian swallowed her fury. How dare they hurt this girl? She wasn’t their concern. She’s under my supervision. “Let’s get you up.”
With a gentle touch, she helped Kitten stand and guided her toward the trail. Kitten moved unsteadily, her breath shallow and rapid. Poor kid had to be dying of thirst. How long had she been locked in that small, dank space?
“Besides your wrist and head, any other place hurting?”
“Think I busted a rib or two.”
Lillian adjusted her hold on Kitten and wished she could call an ambulance. The arm looked bad—the hand cocked at a strange angle. The broken ribs could puncture a lung. A head injury might pose all kinds of problems.
“I’m supposed to be with my guest this afternoon.” Kitten spoke in a raspy voice.
“Don’t worry about that. We’ll give him to a different girl.”
It seemed to take a year but finally, the house came in view. Behind the kitchen, Lito and Gunner unloaded trays of food that would be lunch for the guests. When Kitten spotted them, she froze.
“It’s okay,” Lillian said.
“No, it’s not.” Kitten shuddered, her voice angry. “They said they were coming back to kill me. I caught them talking about somebody betraying Jefe. They said it was you.”
“Me? Jesus.” Had they gone to Jefe with their accusations? She looked at the injured girl, unsure what her next step should be. She grabbed the two-way radio from her pocket. “Onyx? I have her. Meet me behind the kitchen. Bring my purse. And a bottle of cold water. Don’t tell anyone.”
A few minutes later, Onyx hurried through the backdoor, Lillian’s clutch and the water in her hand. When she spotted Kitten, her black eyes widened. “Oh my God.”
“I can’t bring her inside like this. Give her the water.”
Onyx opened the bottle and handed it to her. Kitten guzzled as though near death from dehydration. “Easy there. Don’t want to make yourself sick.”
Kitten pulled the bottle away, her eyes closed, her head lolling back as though she might slip into unconsciousness again. Did she have a brain injury?
Lillian tightened her grip on the kid. She could be seriously injured. Lillian would NOT lose another girl. But what were her options? She thought about the social worker—Georgia Thayer. She’d helped Lillian when she needed it and been very discreet. Maybe she’d do the same for Kitten. But it was a risk—a huge risk.
Kitten started to sag, as though her legs could no longer support her.
“Shit. Help me get her to my car.”
Sandwiching Kitten between them, they shuffled toward the garage where the Thunderbird waited. “What will you do?” Onyx opened the door and coaxed Kitten inside.
“Kitten was supposed to be with Vasily. He cannot see her like this. Nobody can,” Lillian said.
“Ratana’s guest left this morning. I can pair her with Vasily.”
Lillian looked doubtful. “He had a strong interest in Kitten. Have Ratana dress very young. If he asks, say Kitten fell and hurt her arm and we’re getting her tended to.”
“How will you do that?”
“Good question.” Lillian climbed in the car and turned to Kitten, who’d leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes.
“Kitten? You still with me?”
Groggy eyes blinked open. “Sorry. Feel a little . . . muddled.” She looked down at the swollen arm cradled in the other hand. “Where are you taking me?”
She started the car, positioning the vents to point at the girl. “I’m going to get you help. This is going to be tricky. You have to do exactly as I say.”
She nodded.
“When we go by security, I need you to hunch down.” She pointed the Thunderbird toward the gate and blew through it like a bird escaping a cage.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
I had just finished with a thorny discharge—an alcoholic who’d finished his third try with detox, and his skeptical wife who reluctantly let him come home. I gave him a list of AA meetings and he promised to attend one that night. “It will be your lifeline,” I had stressed, and I put his odds at staying sober at fifty-fifty. Odds of staying married? Less.
When my pager shimmied on the desk, I read the number and dialed the ER.
“There’s a lady here with a teenager. She’s asked for you.”
“On my way.”
The ER was surprisingly quiet. The nursing tech pointed to the interview room where a woman with auburn hair sat with her back to the door. The lanky girl who rested on the gurney looked scraped and battered, clutching an injured hand.
“I’m Georgia Thayer. How can I help you?”
The woman turned around and I recognized her immediately. “Lillian?” Odd to see her so soon after she’d rescued Elias and me outside The Orchid Estate.
“Georgia. I hate to bother you, but I need a favor. A kind of huge one.”
“Okay.”
She approached the girl. “This is Amanda. She’s on staff at the Estate. She was rollerblading and had a bad fall.”
I crossed over to Amanda, wondering if that was her real name, and took in the swollen forehead, the scraped cheek, and the large knot over her wrist. The bits of grass and leaves in her stringy hair. How she contrasted with Lillian’s smooth, unblemished skin. Heavy, but artfully applied, eye make-up. Immaculate tailored crimson suit, white satin blouse, cleavage bubbling up. “Amanda, has a doctor checked you out?”
She nodded.
“He’s sending her for X-rays,” Lillian answered. “Problem is, well, we don’t have insurance.”
“You should. How old are you, Amanda?”
“She’s nineteen.”
“Nineteen.” Not likely. I got it, though. I’d had to pretend to be an adult during much of my teen years. “Can I call your parents for you?”
I kept my focus on the girl, taking in the sunken posture, the dirty hair, and clothes. The look of abandonment, much like Lillian had appeared those years ago.
The girl looked at Lillian who answered, “They’re up north.”
Right. I’d probe further once I got the kid to trust me.
“As I said, she doesn’t have insurance, but we can pay cash if it’s not too much. Could you tell the admissions clerk that? And no, she doesn’t have a photo ID. Something we’ll remedy soon, I promise.”
“So, Amanda. What do you do at the Estate?”
“She’s part of the kitchen-wait staff. New though. Still getting used to things. Look—can we get her X-rayed or whatever the hell we need to do? I have to get back.”
It bothered me that Lillian insisted on speaking for the girl. What I knew about the Estate, like Jefe’s other enterprises, was that workers were trafficked. Was this kid being sexually exploited? “Tell you what.” I turned to Lillian. “It will take a few hours for her to get x-rayed. There may be other tests to run—the lump on her head looks nasty. Why don’t you head on back to the Estate and we’ll call you when we’re done.”
Her heavily lined eyes widened. “I’m not just leaving her here.”
“You can trust me. I won’t let anything happen to her.”
“No. Absolutely not. I’ll wait.”
