God, I hope she hasn’t been shipped out yet.Brooks is intent on finding her, and I can’t imagine how she’ll react if we fail.
If she fails.Because this is her problem, not mine.
“Let’s go over what we have so far,” I say, seeking to distract myself.“We have enough girls missing that it can’t be a coincidence.And we know that some are local, but others aren’t.This points to one thing: Someone in New Orleans is running girls, and they’re stealing them from other cities.”
“That just about sums it up,” Daniel says from behind me.“Boss, I have something.”
The urgency in his voice has me spinning immediately, excited at the thought that he might have found something new.I’m at the table in seconds flat, and leaning over the shipping manifest he’s looking at.
“What is it?”
“The manifest for the Destiny,” he says quietly.“It comes in and out of port once a month, on a schedule.Always arrives empty.Always leaves full.”
Well that’s suspicious.Shipping companies make their money by hauling shipments from one port to another.They might arrive carrying food and leave carrying textiles, and pick up additional loads as they go.They never sail empty unless they have to.No load means no money.
“They’d arrive empty so they didn’t have to record their arrival,” I say quietly.“No registration with the authorities if there’s nothing to register.”
“Exactly.And she’s here now.Just… waiting.”
My stomach does an excited flip.“When is she due to leave again?”
Daniel looks up and meets my gaze.“Three days from now.”
Three days.
Exactly the timeline we’ve guessed at for the next load of girls, if we use Aislyn’s kidnapping as the starting point.A week to get enough girls to fill a load.Long enough to have plenty of captives, but quick enough to guarantee they don’t have to hold the girls for long.
I don’t trade in flesh, but even I can see that it isn’t the sort of cargo you want to hold for long.Too many things might go wrong.Girls getting sick or dying, other people stealing them, or worst of all, one of them escaping and telling the authorities.
If they’re working with a one-week timeline…
Well, it’s confirmation we didn’t have before.
“How are they listing the cargo they’re shipping out?”I ask, morbid curiosity getting the better of me.
“They don’t have it specified,” Daniel says quietly.“They’ve listed it as though they don’t know what the cargo is, yet.Like they’re shopping for a load.”
I laugh softly.“And I bet they never correct that.Because without a cargo, they don’t have to take the chance of someone coming on board to investigate.”
“Or paying taxes on it.”
I frown, letting my mind run through the facts.It seems too clean.Too easy.I don’t like it.I’m used to problems I have to work to solve, and this doesn’t seem right.We just find the ship with a mystery cargo, and get the time and date it’s sailing?
Too easy.
There must be a trick in there somewhere, but what could it be?What if it’s the wrong ship and we chase it only to find an empty container?What if they’re setting us up?What if it’s a bait and switch, meant to draw us out into the open so they can slaughter us when we try to save girls and only find a bunch of guns in the ship?Do they even know we’re on their tails?
They will if Simon speaks to whoever he works for.
“We need proof,” I conclude.“So we can protect ourselves.We need more information.”
“More information about what?”a new voice asks.
I jump and turn in the same motion, my hand going to the knife strapped to my chest, though I already know that voice.I just didn’t expect it in my house.
This isn’t, after all, where she actually lives.
“What in devils are you doing here?”I ask.
