Among the Shrouded (18 page)

“Thank you
, Kate,” called one of the women from the far end of the row.

“Yes, thank you,” called another.

Quiet thanks came from each of the women imprisoned in the basement.  Finally, from the far end of the room, she heard the same voice that had spoken to her on the way to the auction.  It was Svetlana, the woman who held the honor of having spent the greatest number of days in captivity.

“Perhaps I was wrong,” she said.

“Wrong about what?”

“About
being changed,” Svetlana continued.

“What do you mean?”

“You are the first to share her extra rations with the group.  Since you arrived, you have been kind.  And after today, your kindness remains.  I only wonder, will you still be kind after Mr. V has his way with you tomorrow?”  Svetlana paused.  “I suppose we will wait and see.”

“I suppose we will,”
she replied, knowing in her heart she would find a way to use her gift to stop whatever madness was coming her way.  And then, she would use it to protect the others as well.

CHAPTER

26

THOMAS

Early
Monday morning, as he finished folding the last of the napkins before the bistro opened for the breakfast rush, Thomas couldn’t erase the image of Mia’s smile from his mind.  For the first time in his life, he endeavored to imagine a future for himself.  A future that would perhaps include Mia.

When the front door was unlocked,
patrons began flooding into Belinda’s.  He busied himself with his usual routine – refill, remove, restock.  His mind quickly returned to Mia and with it, a whisper of doubt about himself and his worth.  As he cleared the dishes from the large round table, he wondered if she could ever consider him a legitimate partner given his stagnant career path.  He made a mental note to look into the cost of online education classes.  Perhaps, he decided, it was time to start planning a more stable existence for himself, his mother, and if he was lucky, Mia as well.

He
drifted through the dining room, a ghost among the living.  As he refilled water glasses at the four top by the window, he overheard a conversation between two women describing how they shoplifted several hundred dollars’ worth of merchandise from a large department store at the mall the night before.  He heard a wife discussing her hemorrhoids with her disconcerted husband over their breakfast quiche.  Finally, at the very same table he had witnessed Mia receiving the news of her friend’s pregnancy, he overheard an extremely disturbing conversation.

The
well-dressed men he’d seen at the table the week before had returned, each with a large platter of eggs, bacon, and waffles in front them.  Their boisterous laughter broke through the muffled conversations that filled the dining room.  At first, he thought nothing of their behavior.  But as he cleared several of their plates at the end of their meal, he overheard one of the men mention ‘the newest women in the auction.’  The comment was jarring to him so he lingered at the surrounding tables in order to listen further to their conversation. 

“Five thousand dollars seems a lot to pay for o
ne night.  She must be somethin’,” he heard one of the men comment.

“Joe said
that group had three new Ukrainian women and she was one of them.  I’m kind of partial to the Asian girls myself.  I can get white meat at home.”

The gr
oup laughed and he felt revolted.  Ordinarily, he would have just walked away, but with the information Mia had shared about the girl claiming to have been held captive as a sex slave, he decided to keep listening.  He hoped that if perhaps they were involved, they would reveal more incriminating information.

“Well, I’m gonna talk to the new guy and see if I can’t get in on the next auction.  The last couple I’ve been invited to have been less than impressive.”

“There were those Romanian women a few weeks back.  Did you give any of them a go?”

“Nah.  Too feisty.  I like ‘
em more submissive.”

After listening to the men for several moments,
he had heard enough.  He finished clearing the table beside them and took the dishes into the kitchen.  When he returned to the dining room, he approached the hostess stationed at the front door to inquire about the men.  He discovered the group had reserved their table under the name Wayne Brookins.

They soon
finished their meal, but not before he had the opportunity to commit their faces to memory.  He watched carefully as one of the men passed the bill to the waitress.  He noticed that, along with the bill, he also handed her his credit card.  He followed the waitress to the register and casually sidled up to her.

“
Hey Jen, I just heard table six mention they were ready to order.  Why don’t you head over there and I’ll ring this in and bring it over to you?”

“You’re the sweetest, Tom,” she replied.  “Thanks.”

Afraid he would forget the name on the reservation, he quickly grabbed a piece of scrap paper from the drawer and wrote the name Wayne Brookins.  He then added the name printed on the credit card, Frank Guthry. After swiping the card and printing the ticket, he returned them both to Jen as she finished calling the order from table six back to the kitchen.

For
the remainder of his shift, he was unable to concentrate.  Tables were left unattended and dishes began to pile up.  Finally, mercifully, two o’clock arrived and Belinda assisted him in clearing the last of the customers from the restaurant.

“What’s going on
?  You seem completely out of sorts this afternoon,” Belinda commented as they swept the floor of the dining room together.

“I overheard a group of men here today.  They sounded as though they might be involved in some illegal activi
ties.  I’m wondering if I should report what I heard to the police.”

“What kind of activities?”

“I’d rather not say.  It’s no big deal.  I think I’m just going to mention it to my friend who’s a police officer…”

“Your lady friend,” Belinda interrupted.

“Yes.  Mia.  Maybe she’ll know what to do.”

“Well
, here,” Belinda said, taking the sweeper from his hand.  “You’re officially off duty, so go give her a call and get it out of your system.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thanks
, Belinda,” he said as he untied the apron from around his waist and picked up his backpack from behind the counter.  “See you tomorrow.”

He
stood at the bus stop, not knowing where he was headed.  He took out his phone and called Mia on her cell.  She answered on the first ring.

“Hi
, Thomas,” she said brightly.  “How was work?”

He
was surprised by how much better he felt just hearing her voice on the other end of the line.  “It was… interesting,” he replied.

“
Interesting good or interesting bad?”

“
Both maybe.  I think I heard something today that might be related to the story you told me about the woman who escaped from the sex ring.”

“
You’re kidding?”

“
I wish I was.  There were these guys today at the bistro…”

“Thomas, stop talking.  Let’s not discuss this over the phone.  Where are you now?”

“I’m at the bus stop, but I don’t know where I’m going.  Home I guess.”

“No.  Come to my apartment.  We can discuss what you heard here.  How long will
it take you?”

“Towson to Parkville?  Fifteen minutes tops by the time the bus arrives.”

“Do you want me to come get you?” she asked.

“Nah.  I’ll see you in a few.”

“Okay.  See you soon.  And Thomas, did these men know you were listening?”

“No.  I don’t think so.  Why?”

“Just promise me you’ll watch your back, okay?”

“
I always do,” he replied.

CHAPTER

27

MIA

Mia was relieved when she heard the knock at her door.  She ran to answer it, banging her hip into the corner of the kitchen table on the way to the front hall.  After opening the door, she threw herself into his arms before he could cross the threshold.

“What in the world are you so worried about?” he asked when she
finally allowed him to step into the apartment.

“Thomas, I haven’t seen these people you overheard and
I’ve been imagining the worst since you called.  I wish you could describe their auras to me, but of course you can’t, so until we find out more about them, we have to assume they have the potential to do harm and specifically harm to you if they realize you were eavesdropping.”

“Mia,
you need to calm down.  I think you might be overreacting,” he said, taking off his coat and placing it on the back of the kitchen chair. “I promise you, these guys didn’t even know I was in the room.”

“You can’t be too careful.  Come sit down.  I want to hear all about it.”

They passed through the den where Chelsea was sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by paperwork.  She introduced them to one another and then she and Thomas retreated into her bedroom where they could speak privately.

“
I can’t believe the men were just talking openly about the trafficking at the restaurant,” she said to him as she threw herself across her bed.

“You’d be surprise what people feel is appropriate to discuss when they think no one’s listening.  I could go on for hours,” he replied.

“So tell me about the m
en,” she said.  “What did they look like?”

“They were all well-dressed.  Business casual I guess.  Slacks, oxford shirts, expensive shoes… you know the type.  They all looked pretty generic.  One of them had a mustache and one had a scar on his temple that looked like it was a pretty bad gash at one point.  Another g
uy wore glasses.  They were thick rimmed, hipster-like.  They all had brown hair with modern cuts, styled well.  I’d say the youngest was in his early thirties and the oldest was in his late forties.”

“Could you pick them out of a lineup?”
she asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Good.  So tell me what they said.”

“They
were talking about different groups of women and how there were three new Ukrainian women in one of the groups.  Apparently one of the girls sold for five thousand dollars last night.  The guys were vile and made my skin crawl.  I don’t know how you surround yourself with people like them every day, Mia.”

“It takes
its toll sometimes,” she replied.  “What you heard helps to confirm the woman’s story.  It seems we have a thriving trafficking ring set up here in the city.  Maybe I can get you in to see the sketch artist at the station and have her get their faces on paper.  And meanwhile, we can search here at home through the police database for photos of known sex offenders.  Maybe we’ll get lucky and one or two of them will already be in the system.”

“I can do better than that,
” he said.

“How?”

“I have two of their names.”

“
That’s amazing.  How’d you do that?”

“I checked the reservation list and their party was listed under the name Wayne Brookins.  One of the other guys paid and I checked the credit card.  The name on the card was Frank Guthry.
”

She
threw herself on top of him and pressed her lips firmly against his, nearly knocking the back of his head into the wall.

“You.  Are.  Amazing,”
she said, backing herself out of his lap.  “Have you ever considered detective work?”

“No.  Never,”
he replied, still recovering from her display of unbridled emotion.

“Come on,” she said,
picking up the laptop which was on the floor in the corner of her room.  “Let’s see if we can find these bastards.”

She
quickly booted up the computer and logged in remotely to the precinct’s database.  She entered the names of the men Thomas provided and within seconds, Wayne Brookins appeared before them.

“That’s him!”
he exclaimed.  “That’s the guy with the scar!”

She
read his file aloud.  “Wayne Reginald Brookins, born July 18, 1971 in Gaithersburg, Maryland.  He’s got a string of solicitation citations as well as a battery charge that was dropped.  He has two handguns registered in his name.  And his last known address is in Owings Mills.”

“Can you look it up?”

“Yeah, hang on…”  She paused, waiting for the map program to upload the address.  “Here it is.”

“Big place.”

“Big place.”

Neither
of them spoke for several minutes as she tried unsuccessfully to acquire any additional information about the man.  Finally, she turned off the computer, knowing the machine would never provide her with the evidence she was seeking.  She knew there was only one way to get what she wanted.

“I need
to see him,” she said finally.

“That’s him right there on the screen.  I
already told you that,” said Thomas.

“No.  I need to see him with my own eyes.  Not a photo.  Him.  In person.”

“Is this about his aura?” he asked.

She nodded. 
“I have to see it.  I know what the reports say, but I still want to see for myself.  I need to know what we’re dealing with and the only way to do that is to see the condition of his soul.”

“I can keep my eyes open at Belinda’s and le
t you know if he shows up again,” he offered.

“No.  I don’t want to be passive.  I have to be proact
ive.  I want to go to his house.”

“Are you nuts?
” he exclaimed.

“I don’t know.  Maybe.  B
ut I feel like we might be onto something big here and before I go to my father with it, I need to have something more to go on than heresay from my boyfriend.  No offense,” she said, turning to him.

“I’m not offended by the term boyfriend,” he said grinning.

“Thomas!” she said, punching him in the arm, “be serious!”

“I am serious,” he said.  “And I don’t like the idea of you going to that guy’s house.”

“I thought you were the one who was always ‘cautiously optimistic.’”

“I’m not at all optimistic about this.  The idea of tracking down this guy makes me
… whatever the opposite of optimistic is.”

“
Pessimistic?” she said.

“Yes,”
he agreed.  “Very pessimistic.”

“Then come with me.”

“What am I going to do?  I’m a pianist and a bus boy.  I don’t have a lot of training for this sort of thing.”

“You don’t
need any training.  You can just be my back up.”

“Don’t you have a partner for this sort of thing?”
he asked.

“Yes.  Bu
t he hasn’t seen the guy before and you have.  I could use you there to identify him.”

Although he hesitated,
she could see the lines on his face softening.  “Fine.  I’ll come with you.  But only because I can’t stand the thought of not coming with you.  For the record, it’s against my better judgment.”

“
I heard.  You’re pessimistic.  Duly noted.”

“So what’s your plan?”
he asked.

“Plain clothes stake out,
” she replied.

“
Not happening.”

“Come on.  It’
ll be fine.  Tonight, after dark, we’ll drive to his house and park down the street.  We’ll see what we can see.  If he’s there, great.  Hopefully I’ll get a look at him.  If not, then we can go back another time or try some other route.  Okay?”

“Okay,
” Thomas relented.

“What should we do until then?”
she asked.

“I have lots of idea
s,” he murmured, pulling her into his lap and placing a gentle kiss on her lips.

She
felt every nerve inside her body ignite at his touch.  She wanted nothing more than to spend the remainder of the afternoon holed up with him, exploring every inch of his aura-less physique, but she hesitated.  “Not with Chelsea in the other room.  I can’t.  It feels weird.”

“
Okay.  I completely understand,” he replied, holding her at arm’s length.  “But if that’s the case, you’re gonna have to keep your distance because I may not be able to control myself.”

“
Got it.  And the same goes for you,” she said, poking the tip of his nose with her finger.

“It’s a deal
.”  He stood up and extended his hand to help her up from the bed.  “Since we’ve officially succumbed to middle school dance rules, how about dinner?  I make a terrific chicken marsala.”

“That sounds wonderful.  I’ll help,”
she said, taking his hand and following him out of the bedroom.

They invited Chelsea to join them for dinner but she informed them she was
preparing for a special dinner of her own and that Tyler was taking her to the restaurant where they’d had their first date.  She assumed Tyler would be presenting Chelsea with the ring they’d picked out together earlier in the week.  It was a bittersweet feeling as she hugged her friend goodbye and watched her walk out the door.

As they entered the kitchen,
she hoisted herself onto the counter and watched as Thomas picked through the contents of her pantry to find the ingredients he was looking for.  She was impressed by the ease at which he moved around the space.  He didn’t use a single measuring cup and instead threw, what appeared to be random foods, into the bowl.  She stood in awe of him and was beginning to wonder if there was anything he couldn’t do.

“
How can I help?” she asked, as he was stirring the sauce.

“Do you have any vegetables we can put with this for a side?  Like
green beans or broccoli or salad?”

“Maybe,”
she replied.  She began digging through the refrigerator and found half a head of lettuce and two zucchini.  “Here’s what we’ve got,” she said, holding up the vegetables.

“If you slice up the zucchini
, we can roast them in the oven.”

“Okay
,” she said, pulling a knife from the drawer.  “How’d you learn to do all this?”

“All what?”

“The cooking stuff?”

“Mildred is a wonderful cook.  Before Dad died, we had a lot more time and money and she would make the most delicious meals. 
I spent a lot of time in the kitchen watching her.  You wouldn’t believe how much weight I gained when I came to live with them,” he laughed.

“For not having a biological mother, you
’ve sure learned a lot from the women in your life,” she commented.

She
watched as he stopped stirring the sauce and lifted his head to study her from across the room.  “I’ve never really thought about it before, but I guess I have.  I like to think I’m still learning from the women in my life,” he said, smiling at her.  “What about you, did your mother teach you to cook growing up?”

“No
.  My mom left when I was eight,” she replied, matter of factly.

“Oh
, Mia. I’m sorry.  How did I not know that?”

“I
guess it just hasn’t come up,” she replied. He looked at her apologetically.  “It’s okay,” she said, hoping to brush aside the awkwardness of the moment.  “It was a long time ago.”

He
placed the chicken dish and the sliced zucchini into the oven and joined her at the counter.  “Is it okay if I ask you what happened?” he said, brushing a lock of hair from in front of her eyes.

“
Yeah.  Of course.”  She paused, considering Thomas and the most straightforward way to answer his question.  “It was me, I think.  I happened.  I don’t think she could handle my… eccentricities.  On top of that, Dad was gone all the time, at the station, working weird hours all day and night.  One day after school, I came home and she was gone.”