“If I call your parents, and they say they want you to come home—what do you want to do?” I asked gently. “Do you want to go home?”
She nodded slowly, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Do you know their phone numbers? If you don’t, I can find them.”
“I know my mom’s,” she whispered.
I nodded, my heart racing. “What do you say? Do you want to call them or me?”
Her chest rose and fell a few times before she said, “You.”
I understood. She’d been told her parents didn’t want her. If it turned out to be true, she wanted the blow to land on me, not her. Even if she was listening.
I opened the keypad on my phone. “Okay,” I said, knowing I’d pick this decision apart later, wondering if I’d handled it right. “Give me her number, and I’ll call.”
Lexi sat up, shoving the half-empty containers to the other side of the bed, then swung her legs over the edge so she was facing me.
I waited. When she didn’t speak for nearly a half minute, I said gently, “Be brave, Lexi. Let’s call.”
“Buddy says I’m not brave,” she whispered. “He says I’m scared of my own shadow.”
“Then let’s show him he’s wrong,” I said, steady and sure. “Tell me her number.”
Lexi’s chest heaved. I reached over and took her hand.
“I’ll be right here with you,” I said softly. “And if they say they don’t want you, we’ll figure something else out.”
Confusion filled her eyes. “Don’t I need to go back to the house?”
I slowly shook my head. “No. Not if you don’t want to. And wherever you go, I’ll make sure it’s with someone kind.” I squeezed her hand. “Now be brave and tell me her number.”
She held my gaze like she was trying to decide if she could trust me. Finally, she released my hand and whispered the number so quietly, I had to ask her to repeat it as I punched it in.
When I was ready to hit call, I gave her a reassuring smile. “What’s your mom’s name?”
“Anna.”
I nodded, hit call, and prayed I was doing the right thing.
The phone rang several times. I was already mentally preparing myself to leave a voicemail—Lexi’s mother might not answer an unrecognized number—so I was surprised when a woman picked up, distracted. “Hello?”
My heart slammed into my ribs. God, I hoped this wasn’t a mistake. “Anna. I’m calling about your daughter, Lexi.”
There was several seconds of silence before she bit out, “Is this some kind of sick joke?”
My stomach dropped. How could I have been so wrong?
Lexi scrambled off the bed and hurried to my side, whispering, “Emily. Tell her Emily.”
Of course. Many trafficked girls were given new names.
“Emily,” I corrected quickly. “Sorry, Lexi is the name they gave her.” I swallowed hard. “Anna, I hate to ask you this, but… Emily needs to know that you want her to come home.”
Lexi—Emily—pressed into my side and clutched my arm.
“Who are you?” Anna demanded. “How can you even ask me that? Are you trying to get a bigger reward?”
I glanced down at Emily and considered putting the phone on mute. But if her mother heard her fear—heard her—maybe Emily’s voice could pull her mother back from the edge.
