"Through the Three Pillar Community. I needed a place to crash. Food. They took me in. I gave them some sob story about running away from my parents."
"But you hadn't?" Callie said.
Marisol glanced at her. "No. Anyway, that's where I saw the flyer for the agency. A lot of the girls knew about the place. I figured I could offer my services. Make some good money. Get out from the community. They were a little heavy-handed, if you know what I mean." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the way someone does before they say something they've been holding for too long. "I saw all manner of girls come through that place. My apartment was right above Strutz. It was usually quiet at night. The agency would be empty. But one night I heard a commotion below. And a girl crying."
She pulled the hood down off her head and ran both hands through her hair. The streak of red caught the morning light.
"I was meant to be away that weekend. I figure that's why he didn't think anyone could hear him. But I came back early. After I heard the crying, I went down to see. I have keys to the agency." She stared at the ground. "I entered and saw a girl lying on the couch. Partially nude. She was out of it. Really out of it. Like she'd been given something. A drug, or..." She trailed off. "She was groaning. Crying. She saw me and tried to get up but she couldn't. She looked like she'd had too much to drink. There were bottles of beer on the side. She wanted help and I would have, but..."
"What girl?" Noah said.
"Hailey Benton. I'd done her makeup before."
"What night was this?"
Marisol gave the date. Noah looked at Callie. The night Hailey disappeared.
"I heard someone in the bathroom," Marisol continued. "His voice. Samuel Bridger. Telling her to shut up. I heard the toilet flush and so I got out." She put her head in her hands. Her fingers pressed into her temples. "I went back to my apartment. I didn't know what to do. If I said anything..."
"You'd be deported," Noah said.
She nodded.
"About ten minutes later I heard another commotion. A door slammed. I heard him calling her name and I looked out my window and saw the girl stagger out of the main doors below." Marisol lifted her head. "She ran off into the night. Samuel appeared right after her, holding his head. Under the streetlight I could tell he was bleeding. There was blood on the ground the next morning. Droplets. He cursed a couple of times, called out to her, and then charged after her."
"Do you know what time this was?"
"I don't know. Late."
"And before this. Was he always like that with the girls?"
"He was always a little overfriendly. You know. Touching their shoulders. Standing too close. I just thought it was him being nice. But..." She shook her head.
"And you never heard or saw him with someone like this before? Before Hailey?"
"Never. Not like that."
“Marisol, why didn't you come forward sooner?” Noah asked.
She looked at him with an expression that answered the question better than words could. Three years in a country that could send her back with a single phone call. A job that paid cash. An apartment that existed only because a man let her stay. Everything she had was built on silence, and speaking up meant losing all of it.
Noah nodded. He understood. He didn't like it, but he understood.
"Where were you planning to go?" Callie asked.
"Home. Mexico. I have an uncle there.”
"We're going to need you to stay," Noah said. "At least for a few days. You're a material witness."
Fear crossed her face.
“You’re not in trouble,” he said. "But we're going to need your statement. Can you do that?"
She looked at the strip mall. The laundromat. The shuttered tax office. The empty parking spot where the Greyhound had been.
"Do I have a choice?"
"You always have a choice. But that girl you saw on the couch is missing right now. And you might be the only person who can help us find her."
