When I choseto stop running, I had no way of knowing the things that would be set into motion by my decision.
I’d flown back to Akron with Jarreau and his men, but I’d repeatedly assured them that Lee would be at the airport, since I obviously couldn’t be seen arriving at the convention with the cops without arousing suspicions. It was just the universe laughing at our best laid plans when I realized that Bill had told the committee I had canceled.
I didn’t have Lee’s number on my new cell, so I found the number for the dojo and got a message to Mama K and Mama D. Lee arrived just in time to save the day, again. My hero!
Conyers and his two buddies were arrested at the convention, only a little worse for wear. Conyers’ hand was going to require surgery where Tobi’s boot had crushed his fingers and he might need facial reconstruction after the massive damage he had taken, first from Weaver, then from Lee’s fists, but at least he was alive.
Law enforcement used the information Tobi and I provided and raided Dreyven’s hideouts. They found hundreds upon hundreds of files, including recordings and photographs of the children Ricky and Dreyven had trafficked through the years.
Over a hundred of the videos found were of children beingtortured and killed while being sexually assaulted. I’d sobbed for hours when I’d heard. Most of the victims identified had happened sometimeafterI'd escaped from Ricky. All those children had died, because I'd been a coward. If I'd stood up to him sooner, they might still be alive.
“Stop it,” I heard Lee say as I stared at the fire.
“Stop what?” I asked, though I knew exactly what he meant. Lee always knew when I started to spiral into guilt and depression for not reaching out sooner.
His eyes glittered in the firelight and he pressed a gentle kiss on the top of my head.
“Focus on the ones we saved,” he said. “Never forget the ones we lost but focus on the ones we saved.”
I nodded, knowing he was right, but the guilt stayed with me. Jarreau’s team had found and rescued almost forty minors from Dreyven’s establishments, both girls and boys, ranging in age from seven to seventeen.Fuck. Seven years old. Social services was still in the process of trying to reunite the kids with their families, but some of them didn’t even remember what their last names had been before Ricky took them. We were hoping that DNA matches would help reconnect them with their loved ones.
Some of the children were incredibly fragile, emotionally speaking, and it would be a long time before they would be able to live anything approaching a normal life. My heart broke as I looked at their pictures, one after the other. I had to keep reminding myself that at least now they were safe, I was safe. Dreyven would never hurt any of us again.
Dreyven had been extradited back to Milwaukee, but he hadn’t lived long enough to go to trial. Inmates didn’t take kindly to cops to begin with, much less child molesters. The day after his case hit the national news he was found beaten to death in his own cell. It just so happened that the uncle of one of the Milwaukee kids had been doing time at the same prison. While officials had their suspicions, no proof was found. Frankly, I didn’t think anyone really cared. I knew I didn’t.
The other two men were being held at separate facilities and Conyers was being held in solitary, for his own protection.
The response I’d gotten from the fans at the con was not what I had expected. We had been packing up the booth when a woman approached me. She had been watching us for several minutes before she approached us and it was kind of beginning to weird me out. I thought Lee sensed my unease, because he was sticking close to the booth. We were just beginning to load up one of the carts with boxes of comics to take out to the Jeep when she finally approached me.
“Excuse me. Y-you’re Mason, right?” She asked. “Mason Cam-Malone?”
I felt myself tense. No one had called me “Malone” for almost ten years. I nodded at her and felt a sudden warmth at my back as Lee walked over and placed his arm around my waist. I shot him a smile then directed my gaze back at her.
“I’m Mason Malone,” I acknowledged.
She nodded. She was an older woman, late fifties, maybe? She looked soft and warm, her ash brown hair liberally streaked with gray and gentle blue eyes glanced around nervously.
“I… I’m sorry for interrupting your work…” she began, “But I wanted to say thank you for what you did today.”
I blushed. There’d been a lot of congratulations following the speech, more handshakes and fist bumps than I could count, but “thank you” was new.
“My name is Ella Greene,” she said at my obvious confusion. “I’m a friend of Addie’s… Adelaide Conyers.”
Adelaide Conyers was Bill’s wife. I paled at the name and went to step back, but she reached her hand toward me.
“I’m sorry, I’m not saying this well,” she said, twisting a tissue in her hands. “Please, Mr. Malone, I just wanted to say thank you for what you did today. Bill…he is an evil man,” she said, her voice taking on harsh overtones. “You… you weren’t the only one he hurt.”
I thought I understood what she meant.
“Addie…?” I asked.
Ella nodded. “Addie. Addie and… and others,” she continued, dropping her gaze, her cheeks flushing in shame.
Before I could think twice, I was reaching out, my arms were wrapped around the soft-looking woman who held more strength in her soul than Bill Conyers ever would. Conyers had held a reign of terror over his entire household, his wife included.
We talked for a long time, but the longer we talked, the more others showed up. Women. Men. Christ, even some young kids. I was so thankful that Lizzie had recommended that we have counselors available on site, because every single one of them was busy that night.
The outpouring of love and support from these people who emerged from the shadows had been soul wrenching. Person after person came up to me, so many of them had their own stories of pain and abuse, yet they were brave enough to step up and share with me. I thought I went through a whole year’s worth of tears that night and the next day.
