“If only you would behave nicely, then these things wouldn’t happen,” Mom said over and over again. “We could all have such a great life together. We do really well on the good days, right?”
They did. On the good days, Dad was the kindest and funniest man on earth. He would lift her sister in the air and swing her around until she screamed in joy. He would kiss Jessica on the cheek and tell her how beautiful she was.
But then there were the bad days. And lately, there didn’t seem to be enough of the good ones to make up for the bad ones.
“Do you want to play cards?” Maya asked and looked up at her with her big eyes. She was only eight years old, and it tormented Jessica that she had to live like this—never feeling safe, nothing feeling stable—never knowing what might destroy the world around them, or what might set him off.
“We need to finish cleaning first,” she said, looking at the clock, wondering if she could stay up all night and do her homework without her parents finding out. She had done so before. She didn’t want to disappoint her sister, who loved playing cards with her. “We still need to dry all those plates and wipe down the tables.”
“All right,” Maya said, smiling. “Let’s hurry up then.”
They rushed the last plates and put them in the cabinet, and Jessica grabbed the cloth and went to the dining room table to wipe it down. There was still one glass left on the table that she took in her hand. She turned to leave when the broadcast Dad had been watching before he passed out was suddenly interrupted by a breaking news sign.
Chapter 5
I was too late for dinner, and the kids had already eaten when I got home. My mom was in the kitchen, doing the dishes with Matt. Elijah was on the couch, feet on my coffee table, watching TV. Olivia was in her room; Christine was sitting in the recliner wearing headphones, watching YouTube on her phone, while Alex was playing with his toy cars on the floor.
“There she is,” Matt said when he saw me.
I threw my keys on the counter, walked to him, and kissed him on the cheek.
“I am so sorry for being late.”
I pecked my mom on the cheek, and she smiled, then looked at me more closely. She moved a lock of my red hair to the side. I hated it when she touched my hair and messed it up.
“You look awful, Eva Rae.”
“Thanks, Mom. Good to see you too.”
“Where were you, Mommy?” Alex asked and approached me. I lifted him in my arms and hugged him tightly, closing my eyes, enjoying the fact that I could still carry him, even though he was getting heavy. It wouldn’t be long before that was over. I wasn’t looking forward to that. My kids were getting so big; I just wanted to stop time. Christine had just turned thirteen, and Alex would be seven soon.
“I was helping your Aunt Sydney with something,” I said and kissed my boy before putting him down so he could run back to his toys.
Matt gave me a look, eyebrows lifted. “You were out with Sydney? Again?”
“There was a girl who needed our help.”
“I see,” he said, then approached me and kissed me. “And just where did you find that girl?”
I looked him in the eyes. Matt was local law enforcement; he was a detective at the Cocoa Beach Police Department. I couldn’t tell him what I had been up to. I never told him how we found the girls. Most of them were brought to us by the police if they were found somewhere or after a trafficking raid, but some of them—like the girl tonight—we liberated ourselves, and I never told Matt how. It wasn’t that we didn’t trust the police. It was more because of being able to react quickly. Often, we had experienced that once we did tell them of a girl being kept somewhere or of trafficking taking place in an area, they had to do their own investigation. By the time the police finally got there, the perps were usually gone, taking the girls with them.
It wasn’t all illegal what we did. We also trained hotel personnel in being alert and spotting potential human trafficking taking place, entering their hotel. We taught them to look out for girls in the company of controlling men who wouldn’t let them speak for themselves, women who didn’t have their own ID or other personal items, and ownership tattoos like Daddy’s girl or branding marks burned into the skin. We instructed them on what to do if they suspected someone was being sold for sex. And I had given presentations to the local sheriff’s department about how to treat potential victims, and I went with federal investigators on raids, taking the girls with me back to the shelter as soon as they were liberated. Our lawyers would then guide them on how to handle police interrogation and interviews. Frequently, the girls were too scared to tell about the many men they had been forced to be with because of the embarrassment and shame involved. And often, it was hard for the police to understand this, why they wouldn’t tell everything they had been through. Many of the girls were foreigners, and we provided them with lawyers to help them get immigration relief. Some of them just wanted to go back home, and we made sure they did that once the trial was over. Every case had its own unique story and a special way it needed to be handled. No two girls were the same.
I knew Matt was acting suspicious because he knew no girl had been taken in today. He knew everything that went on in the area, and he would have heard if a girl was liberated from captivity.
It wasn’t because I didn’t trust him that I didn’t tell him the truth. It was more that I didn’t want to drag him down with me if I got myself in trouble. And I knew he’d be mad at me for risking my life. Of course, he would. I would be mad at me too.
“We picked her up on the streets,” I said, then turned away from him and walked out to my mother.
“Did you eat?” My mom asked. “You probably had nothing but junk all day, if I know you. There’s still some Biryani left. It’s an Indian dish with vegetables and chick-peas, in case you don’t know. It’s the first time I’ve made it. It came out pretty good; don’t you think, Matt?”
He nodded, still scrutinizing me. I knew he wasn’t done with his inquiries, but hoped to be able to avoid his questions. I looked into the pot at the dish my mom had created. It didn’t look too shabby.
My mom was vegan and had been for years. Usually, I hated every part of it and wanted my meat, but ever since she moved in with us, I had slowly learned to enjoy it. It wasn’t too bad. And on top of it all, I had managed to lose like six pounds since she started cooking for us, and that made me feel pretty darn good about myself.
I filled a plate and sat down at the table to eat. Matt sat down in front of me, a beer in his hand. He was fiddling with the sticker, ripping it.
“Apparently, there were reports earlier of shots being fired in Rockledge. Around seven o’clock, they said, some neighbors heard shots being fired by the parking lot at the old abandoned strip mall by US1. There was an RV parked there,” he said, then sipped his beer. He continued as he put the beer down. “Our colleagues at the Rockledge Police Department went to check it out. They found two guys there, both of them needed to go to the ER, but wouldn’t say how they got so badly messed up.”
He paused, his eyes scrutinizing me. I kept eating, pretending like I didn’t know what he was talking about.