“Is the kid with her?” I asked.
“Right now.”
With a groan, I turned my chair back to the computer and moving my mouse to the other side, I brought my screen to life. “Darrell Stephens. What do we know about him? Or Zella? Is her last name Maples?”
“What the fuck are you doing?” Sparrow asked.
“What I do.” Holding my breath, I forced my right arm up to the keyboard.
“No,” Sparrow said. “You’re going to your apartment, and Renita is going to check you over.”
My head shook. “No, for the first time, answers feel close.”
A large hand landed on my shoulder. When I turned, I saw a small cuff of colors coming from beneath his shirtsleeve. “We’re going to your apartment now. Don’t make me carry your sorry ass.”
Lorna
“Ruby said that?” Madeline asked as we gathered the ingredients for dinner, both of us walking in and out of the pantry in the penthouse kitchen.
Biting my lip, I stilled by the large island. “I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”
She stopped and surveyed the items we’d accumulated.
“Is this all we need?” I asked.
Madeline nodded as a smile blossomed over her lips. “I’m excited that I can teach you something, but to be perfectly honest, I never baked pirozhki before. I have enjoyed eating it.”
I made a sad attempt at repeating the name of what we were about to make, my poor attempt eliciting a genuine chuckle from both of us. “I guess it’s fair to say when it came to languages, Mason got the talent.” I looked at the recipe Madeline had found online. “I’ll just call them mini-pies.”
“Yes, that works. And what’s so great is we can make all different kinds. That way everyone can try different ones. Salmon is a typical ingredient, but we can make some without any meat and others with vegetables, and there’s always potato.” She took a deep breath, standing taller, and placing both hands on her lower back.
“Why don’t you sit? I can make the dough.” I looked at the recipe again. “I’m pretty sure I can handle yeast dough. Then you can show me how to make the fillings.”
Madeline slowly walked toward the bar stools, her hand over her large midsection. “Thank you.”
I handed her the glass of water she’d been drinking.
“You know, your hair is cute.”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure why I decided to do it. I have never done anything like this before. I’m also a little stunned when I walk by a mirror.”
“I hope Reid wasn’t upset.” Her eyes opened wider. “He probably blames me for giving you the hair dye.”
“No,” I replied as I began to measure and add ingredients to a large bowl. “He was a bit shocked, but then he said...” I felt the warmth creep up my neck toward my cheeks.
“Oh,” she said with a giggle. “Let me use my imagination. It had something to do with cheating on his redheaded wife with his brunette wife.”
I nodded with a genuine smile. “Something like that.”
Madeline took a drink of water. “Can we go back to what Ruby told you?”
“It’s up to you.” I peered out the large windows toward the afternoon sky, wondering for not the first time why neither Madeline nor I had heard from our husbands. Araneae and Laurel had been missing since I came upstairs. Not missing. They were both in other parts of the tower, working on what they did.
Madeline scooted on the chair, pulling the skirt of the casual long dress she was wearing. “Ruby was right. When I first got here, I was drowning in memories. Mine weren’t suppressed by a drug or medication. I suppose it was me who suppressed them. And once I allowed myself to think about everything, it was almost too much.”
“And Ruby said Patrick helped you?”
“He did. If we want to stay with the drowning analogy, he was my life raft. But if I’m being one hundred percent honest, once he saved me or helped me save myself, it wasn’t over.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She ran her fingertip over the lip of her glass around and around. I was about to change the subject when she spoke. “I started seeing a counselor at the Sparrow Institute. Laurel recommended her. And then once I got a little more comfortable with admitting even to myself what I’d been through, I began attending survivor meetings there too.”
Taking off my wedding ring and placing it in a little holder for just such an occasion, I paused before kneading the dough. “I didn’t know that. I thought you were volunteering there.”
“I am now. I guess I started volunteering. Even though I hadn’t given Araneae or Laurel the details I’d shared with Patrick, I think in hindsight it was a group effort to ease me into what the Sparrow Institute has to offer.”
After covering the counter in flour, I dumped the dough, watching a cloud of white flour poof. “I’m sorry we’re all on lockdown. I bet you miss your time there.”
“I do a little. I’ve gotten to know other trafficking survivors whom I admire.”
“I only know you and Jana,” I said as I continued to knead.
“Living the life we do” —she looked around the large kitchen— “our network is pretty small, but the thing I’ve learned from all the people I’ve met at the institute is that I’m not alone. There are so many others, ones who got out much younger, ones who barely survived, and ones who didn’t even realize it had happened to them.”
“How could someone not know?”
Madeline lowered her feet to the floor. “I’m going to try walking. This little guy isn’t helping me to be comfortable.” She took another drink of the water. “Things said in group are confidential, you know, like Fight Club?”
“Of course.”
“But maybe I can explain it in the abstract? No names.”
I didn’t want to encourage Madeline to say anything she didn’t want to say.
Before I could argue, she began, “We’ll call her Cynthia.”
“Ruby’s middle name.”
Madeline nodded. “It’s not this woman’s real name, but I knew a Cynthia. Anyway, this woman I met recently wasn’t kidnapped or sold like people mostly think of when you talk about human trafficking. People envision women packed in a box truck and then made to have sex in the back of some nail salon, or something like that.”
A chill came over me as my stomach twisted. “I hate that anyone would have that image.”
Madeline stopped by the tall windows and peered outside. “Cynthia wasn’t sold to a pimp or forced to perform sex acts in a strange, unknown place.” She turned back, her expression solemn. “She didn’t realize that what she had been made to do was wrong because it was all she and her sister knew.”
“What?” I wasn’t certain I heard Madeline correctly.
“Their mother had friends. The friends would visit.”
I lifted my hand. “Oh, stop.”
“It ended after their mother was arrested—manslaughter.”
“One of her friends?” I emphasized the word.