I’d almost think I was imagining it if I hadn’t gone through this several times before. The hyperfocus of handling business narrows my vision. Obliterates my periphery. It’s only when I look back on it that I can widen my scope.
I’m sure of it.
I call Thomas back.
“They’re trafficking women…” I swallow sickly. “And probably girls.”
“You saw this?” Thomas asks darkly.
“Saw a pair of underwear. Didn’t remember until just now. You know how it is on a job.”
“Details get lost until after the fact, yeah,” he agrees. “But a pair of underwear–that’s not much.”
“A pair of underwear with fucking kittens on, in the same room, there’s a trapdoor. That’s the sort of thing these sick bastards do. A twisted inside joke. It has to be that. That’s why the Don wants it kept secret. He knows half the Family would riot if they knew. Sure, some of these men are evil. But some aren’t.”
Some walk the line like me.
“Did you get visual confirmation?” he asks.
“No,” I admit.
“Then we’re back to square one.”
I hang up again, grinding my teeth, certain my theory is correct.
CHAPTER 23
CELINE
“What’s this–half day?” Jackie says, walking into my path as I head toward the exit of the hospital.
“Guilty.” I laugh. “They let me use two hours of my holiday. Julian and I are going to the movies.”
“Lucky! Make sure you get a double portion of popcorn in my honor.”
I force another laugh. “Will do!”
I’m obviously lying, since Julian would freak if he knew I was walking toward the bus stop on my own. I can’t take my car because he gave me a ride here, and I haven’t got time to get it. Instead, I anxiously wait at the bus stop, wondering if I’m making a serious mistake.
All day yesterday at work, I turned this idea over in my mind. This morning, on the fourth day, something solidified in me. I’ve never been good at sitting around and waiting for problems to fix themselves.
I ride the bus to the recovery center, just about making their late afternoon meeting. When I walk inside, it doesn’t seem suspicious to me at all. A kind-looking woman in a floral dress flashes a bright smile at me and waves me into a brightly lit room with a circle of chairs in the middle.
I grab myself a cup of coffee, glancing at the woman beside me, an elderly lady with a big silver cross resting on her chest. She offers me a friendly smile and a wink. “Don’t worry. We’re not all as scary as we look.”
I smile.Are you part of the mob, nice old lady? Are you part of whatever’s going on here?
I obviously don’t say that.
“Okay, everyone, let’s take our seats,” the lady in the floral dress says.
Around fifteen of us, a mix of men and women, old and young, move to the circle of chairs.
“For the benefit of the newcomers, my name is Lila Storm. Yes, that’s right. That’s mylegalname. Lila Storm. People often ask me if I changed my name to seem more unique and special. But no, this is the name my daddy gave me.”
That gets a polite laugh.
“I know that some of you will be nervous being here, but rest assured, gambling addiction is nothing to be ashamed about. It’s a problem that affects eight million people in the US alone, and that’s not counting the friends and family members who are suffering as a result. This is a safe space to discuss our problems, our trials, our tribulations. So, who would like to go first?”
