Strolling up to the last trailer on the right, I confidently knock on the door. Several moments pass, and the door opens slowly. At first, I assume the latch has merely come loose, then I look down into the dirt-smeared face of a little girl in a tattered dress.
“I’ve got a kid here. Is there anything in this guy’s records that indicates he has children?”
Ant comes across the line. “No. He’s single, no children.”
“Girlfriend?”
“No. No girlfriend. At least not one we know of.”
“Is it possible this is someone he’s taken?”
“Most likely scenario.”
The door swings open a little wider, and our mark is on the couch, snoring away, surrounded by bottles of booze and used needles. Fuck.
“Is he your dad?” I ask the little girl in Spanish. She could be five, she could be ten, who knows. She shakes her head, her eyes welling with tears.
“Did he take you from your house?”
She nods.
“Do you know where you live?”
She shakes her head.
“Do you want to go home?”
She nods, and I kneel, gesturing for her to get on my back, which she does readily. Her legs don’t quite wrap around my ribs, but she clings fiercely to my neck, and I let her.
“Close your eyes,” I whisper.
“Okay.”
I turn my face toward hers, and her eyes are squeezed shut. Walking up to the guy, I quietly draw the blade across his neck. As his pulse slows, his eyes flutter open, confused. I bury the knife in his temple because fuck him.
“Are your eyes still closed?”
“Yes.”
“Good. We’re going to help you find your mom now.”
When I arrive at the car, Erik’s eyes widen. “Oh shit.”
“Yes, I know.”
He switches to the driver’s side, and I sit in the back with the little girl, buckling her in.
“What should we do?”
“Once our guys take over the warehouse, we’ll find her parents like everybody else’s.”
“Guard just went on break,” Ant announces. “We’re going in.”
“Be careful,” Erik whispers.
“Okay.”
“And keep the line open, please,” I say.
