Wilson's heart twanged for the poor woman. "Jesus, how did you get away?"
"My mother escaped and came to this country while she was pregnant with me. I was about three years old when my father finally found us. He put her in the hospital, almost killed her. I was placed in foster care for a while. My foster parents turned out to be part of an underground system to help abused women and their children escape their abusers."
"And they helped you and your mother?"
Hector nodded. "As soon as my mother got out of the hospital, they whisked us off to a safe house. We stayed there for a while before moving on to another safe place and then another. Eventually we found a place safe enough for us to stay."
"And this underground thing? What exactly is that?"
"The underground railroad, in this instance, helps women get away from abusive situations, moving them from home to home, hiding them and helping them get on their feet so they no longer have to depend on their abusers to have a roof over their heads or food in the cupboards. Sometimes it’s just transportation to somewhere else. Other times, we help them establish an entirely new identity. Whatever the women need."
"Why didn't your mother simply go to the police?"
Hector's smile was sad but understanding. "My mother was like many women in these situations. They can’t go to the police for one reason or another. Maybe they don’t think they will be believed, or maybe their abuser has money or is actually in law enforcement. Whatever the situation, they don’t feel as if they can trust the police."
Wow. That was a lot to take in.
"And you're a stop on this railroad?"
Hector nodded. "Our house is fitted with a basement that can only be accessed through a secret entrance. When Will and I refurbished the place, we made over the basement to house someone on the run."
"And no one knows about this?"
"There are a few people, but the more who know, the more chance at discovery. Only by keeping this secret can we help the people we do."
Wilson nodded. "What happens to a woman once she leaves here?"
"Sometimes we help them get set up somewhere else. Sometimes we send them on to the next stop on the railroad." Hector shrugged. "It all depends on what they need to keep them safe."
Wilson squinted at Hector. "How do you pay for all of this?" It took money to move people around and set them up in new lives. "Who funds this?"
"We have generous benefactors," Hector replied. "People we trust with our secret."
Wilson sat back. His mind started to race. "These women, I assume some of them have children?"
"Some do," Hector admitted.
"And they can't get restraining orders through normal channels?"
"In most cases, a restraining order is just a piece of paper. The abuser couldn’t care less about it. They believe they will either never get caught or that they are above the law. My father was the police chief of the little town in Mexico where my parents lived in. He could have beat my mother to death in the middle of the street and no one would have lifted a hand to help her. They were terrified of him."
"That would be why she couldn't go to the police."
Hector nodded. "He was the police."
That would do it.
"What can I do to help?"
Hector's eyebrows lifted. "You want to help?"
"Yes. This is obviously something you and my son feel very passionate about. Maybe I can use some of my connections to help you out."
"I'm not sure what a US senator can do, but we never turn down help."
Hector's words about him being a senator made Wilson wince as he was reminded why he could bring more trouble to their door than help. "We do have a problem, though. If the media learns about Will…"
"They'll descend on us like locusts."
