“It’s good.”
“Salsa. These are tortilla chips. It’s Mexican-type food.” He took some more, and they shared the bowl until the tortilla things were gone and Bazel was full once more. “Do you want to watch television?”
Bazel shrugged. He had tried watching before Atlas picked him up, but he didn’t understand all that much. They talked fast and used weird words. Atlas changed the channels until he came to a show about fish. Big fish. He stopped, and Bazel watchedsomething calledBlue Planet.It was pictures from all over, and he was fascinated. They spoke more slowly, and he was able to understand more of the words, especially since they explained things as they went. For the first time in a while he found himself smiling and a little excited. The water was so blue and the fish were so big, it seemed like a fantasy. He had never seen anything like this.
“You like it?”
Bazel nodded. “Yes. Is really nice.” After a little while, the program ended, but Atlas found another one, and he watched that until he started to get tired again. He did not know if it was okay to fall asleep, so he stayed awake until Atlas put away the dishes and said he was going to bed. “I go too.”
He went upstairs and to the bedroom, closed the door almost all the way, and climbed under the covers. The bed was even nicer than before. It was warm and soft, and the room was cool, so he snuggled down. There was no movement and no sound other than Atlas as he moved outside. Then the light from the hall went off and everything was dark.
“I’m okay, Mama and Papa. I made it to America,” he said quietly into the darkness. “I don’t know what will happen or if you really care or not, but I am safe for now.” He smiled and sighed, letting himself give up on the worries that threatened to plague him. He listened to the sounds of the house, but it was very quiet. Atlas was in bed, and eventually his eyes grew heavy. He did not know what would happen tomorrow, but for now, he was safe. Atlas was a good person, and Bazel was starting to hope. But not too much; that could be bad.
Chapter 3
“YEAH,” ATLASgrumbled into the damned phone. It was his day off, he was worn out, and he had spent half the night listening for strange sounds with a stranger in the house. Not that he expected Bazel to do anything untoward, but his police training wasn’t something he could just turn off, even when he wanted to sometimes.
“Is that how you usually answer the phone?” It was Chris, and she sounded too danged energetic for words.
“What time is it?” He blinked and sat up.
“Seven thirty.”
He groaned. “Then yes. When someone calls at this ungodly hour on my day off, absolutely, that’s the telephone greeting you get. Is this an emergency? Or can I hang up and you can call at a more civilized hour, like noon.”
“Don’t give me that. I know you get up every morning at about this time to take Evie for a walk. So stop being huffy. If you saw the paperwork on my desk, you’d run ten miles to get away from it, so you have nothing to be grumpy about.” He could tell she was grinning, and if she wasn’t a friend, he might have grumped at her again, but it wouldn’t do any good. “I have appointments later this morning, and I was going to stop by to check on Bazel.”
“I expect the state police will be doing the same thing. They are going to want to ask him questions, most likely ones he doesn’t know the answers to.” The guy had been pretty muchkept in the dark and prevented from seeing the people involved. Atlas figured that was by design, and that anyone he might have seen was very low-level and expendable. “I think we’re dealing with a pretty sophisticated operation. This isn’t some trucker picking up people and bringing them north in the hope of making some money.”
“No, it’s not. These are people who prey on immigrants. They sell them on the prospect of a better life and get them to pay to come here. Then they ship them all over the country and make them work off additional costs. Basically they’re slaves. They often don’t speak English, and they’re afraid they’ll be sent back to where they came from. The terrible thing is that the pretty ones are used for worse things than domestic help.” Chris’s voice broke. She was a great person, but she had seen a hell of a lot of what one person could do to another. Sometimes Atlas wondered how she could do what she did, day in and day out.
“I take it you’ve encountered this before?” How did he not know this?
“In various forms. Especially at Super Bowl time. Lots of people are brought into the country because there is a huge gathering of men, and some of them will use the services of pretty young girls. But it can happen anytime. Though I will admit that Carlisle is not exactly a hub of this kind of activity. Like you did, we sometimes find them as they’re being transported.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I want to speak to Bazel, and if the troopers show up, call me. I want to be there when they talk to him.”
“I’ll do what I can.” He ended the call and figured he might as well get up. He sat on the side of the bed. “Okay, Evie, it’s time to go out.” He turned to her bed, but it was empty. Atlas pulled on his robe and left the room. At first he wondered if she might be downstairs. But as he passed Bazel’s room, the door was opena crack. He peeked in, finding Evie on the floor next to the guest bed, which was unusual. She usually slept in the room with him.
Bazel’s head of dark hair stuck out from under the covers, which rose and fell slightly. Otherwise he didn’t move. He had to have been exhausted, and Evie seemed to be watching over him. She was an amazing dog with great instincts. Not only did she have an incredible nose, but Evie had a huge heart, and seemed to know what she needed to do.
“Come on,” he whispered. Evie lifted her head and quietly trotted out of the room and down the stairs, with Atlas following her. Once downstairs, he let her out before making up her breakfast. He also started coffee for himself and made a little extra in case Bazel wanted some. He let Evie inside, and she went right to her dish.
Atlas poured himself some coffee and sat in the living room, watching a local morning news program. Once she was done eating, Evie came in and sat on the floor near him. “You’re an amazing girl,” Atlas told her as he gently rubbed her head. He got very few moments in his life where things were this quiet. Work was often very hectic. With limited K-9 resources in the department, he and Evie were often on call. In fact, he had half expected Chris’s call to be the department asking them to come in.
“It looks like we’re going to have a quiet morning.” At least he hoped so. His last two days off had been cut short, and on Friday, he and Evie had a training session. So it was going to be a busy week.
Footsteps from above drew his attention. He waited for Bazel to come down, and the fact that he was practically swimming in the clothes Atlas had found for him was a reminder that he needed to take him shopping at some point to get clothes that fit.
“Are you hungry? I can make breakfast. Do you like eggs?”
“Yes,” Bazel said as he tentatively sat in one of the side chairs. “Thank you.” He sat still, his arms wrapped around him, making himself as small as possible, like he wanted to disappear. “I sorry I being….” He paused, and Atlas let him finish. “A problem.”
“You aren’t. There is nothing to be sorry for.” Atlas really thought there was a story behind Bazel’s journey and how he acted, but at this point, there was no way he was going to be able to get him to tell it. Not that it was any of Atlas’s business, but he was a police officer, which made him curious about everything and everyone. “Come on.” He had to find a way to get Bazel out of his shell just a little bit.
He went to the kitchen and started a simple breakfast. He got Bazel to make the toast and pour juice. Atlas also offered him some coffee, which Bazel really seemed to enjoy.
“This is good. Different from home, but good.”
Atlas loved really good coffee. It was his main vice, and judging by the soft way Bazel moaned when he drank, it could be his as well. “I’m glad you like it.” He kept his attention on the stove and the eggs he was making. It didn’t matter that he might find Bazel attractive with his big dark eyes, floppy light brown hair, and high cheekbones. Just the thought was wrong, and he needed to stop having it. He scrambled the eggs and added some cheese. He thought of making sausage but didn’t know if Bazel ate pork and wasn’t quite sure how to ask at this late moment. So once the toast was done, he added some to each plate and brought them to the table. He also got out some of the jam his sister made and added it to the table before sitting down.
