Chapter 19
Sunday morning
“–diedafter being shot at The Main Place yesterday afternoon. Silas Clark is survived by–”
“Damn.” Griff clicked off the TV. “Do you suppose the police even got to question him?”
“That makes three that have died since Monday.” Worry darkened Elaine’s eyes as she put the breakfast plates on the dining room table and sat. “Big Daddy and The Cadre are getting desperate. They have no idea of what and how much we know.”
“Yeah, but according to Clark, The Honeys got here on Wednesday,” Griff pointed out as he joined her. “They’ve probably got shows or engagements booked before the Tech and Auto shows start next weekend.”
Her teeth caught her lip in thought, giving Griff time to study her in quiet appreciation. Her navy-blue robe added a shimmer to her pale hair and his heart surged in memory of his fingers sliding through the silken strands as he washed it last night.
More still at exploring her body over and over, joining his to hers in an ecstatic and overwhelming celebration of need and desire.
“So, how ya’ doing this morning?” he asked.
Fine lines crinkled around her eyes as she grinned at him. “I’m good,” she said. “Really good. You?”
“Never better,” he said, struggling with what to say next, then changed his mind.
She traced her fingers around the rim of her coffee cup. “How long will you be in Knoxville? I mean when this mission is over?”
“I don’t know,” Griff said honestly. “If Hank and BP need me to stay here, I’ll stay. Even when we put these creeps to bed–”he laughed as a blush stained her cheeks at his choice of words–“I don’t think The Cadre will give up easily or completely vanish from East Tennessee.”
“So do you think Hank will let you stay here?”
He reached for her hand. “I’m counting on it.”
“Then let’s talk about last night after we put the creeps to bed,” she said. “What’s our move today?”
“Let’s go see if Martin or Marty or whatever he’s calling himself will talk to us,” Griff suggested. “Miller probably left word that it would be okay. How long will it take you to get ready?”
“Minutes,” she said. “Can you–”
“Tidy the kitchen? You bet.”
She left and returned in under five minutes, wearing jeans, a big sweater, loafers and her paisley shawl-scarf draped around her. He raised an eyebrow and asked, “No sling?”
“I’ll let you put it on me when we get back and look at the rest of the lists, Doctor Griff,” she teased. “I don’t want to scare Marty.”
“Smart thinking,” he agreed, heading for the front closet where he kept his jacket. “I’ll text Aunt Sally about short-term rentals for large groups starting tomorrow, where they are and who’s renting them. She’s ushering at her church, but she’ll get to it when she’s finished.”
“Sounds good,” Elaine agreed. “What about–”
“About Patrick?” The man himself stood in the open door to the suite, coffee mug in hand. “You look like you’re getting ready to go somewhere. And if you will remember, part of my contribution to this mission is to be your driver. Or had you forgotten that?”
“We were just getting ready to text you,” Elaine said hastily. “‘cause you weren’t in your room when we had breakfast this morning.”
“Yeah, where were you?” Griff added, secretly glad his friend hadn’t spent the night in the suite. Their lovemaking had not exactly been-quiet.
“Among other things, checking out the building next door.”
Patrick’s gaze traveled between them, and Griff had no doubt his friend knew exactly what they had been doing last night. “Hank is thinking about buying it in case we need to expand our base in East Tennessee.”
“What’s your background, Patrick?” Elaine asked. “I know all about Griff’s and Mac’s too, but what’s yours?”
“Civil and structural engineering,” he said. “With several classes in architecture. Did you hear on the news that Silas Clark died?”
“Yeah, so that’s even more reason to get downtown,” Griff said. “We need to talk to Miller about that. We’ll call him on the way.”
“Well, then.” Patrick’s thumb gestured to the door. “Let’s roll.”
A short time later.
“Funny you should come by,” the duty officer said. “Driscoll’s been bugging us ever since he woke up to call you.”
“Has he spoken to anyone else?” Elaine asked as the fatherly appearing man, whose name plate identified him as Sergeant Owen, led them to the interview rooms.
“Only his parents sometime after midnight,” Owen said. “He found them in Memphis and they’re no doubt burning up the Interstate getting here. All the weather stations are reporting violent thunderstorms in the western part of the state and the airport in Memphis cancelled all flights. I guess they opted for the drive. Miller put out the word to the highway patrol and every law official between here and there if they were speeding, to let ‘em keep going.”
He opened the door to the same room where they’d met Marty before. He sat with his elbow propped on the table, his chin resting in his hand. But at their entry, he sat up and smoothed his sleep-rumpled hair. “Hey, Ms. Prescott,” he greeted, his gaze on the table.
“Since when were we formal with each other?” Elaine scolded gently. She pointed at Griff as they sat in the rickety, metal chairs. “Marty–”
“It’s Martin, if you don’t mind.”
“Martin it is.” She pointed at Griff and said, “This is my friend, Lieutenant Griff Tyler. He’s a retired Marine and helping me find Chelsea and those girls with her.”
“Good to meet you, Martin,” Griff said. “How are feeling today?”
“Fine,” he replied. The earlier weariness staining his face was gone. Worry had replaced the suspicion in his eyes. “You know about Chelsea and the girls?”
“Some, not at all,” Elaine admitted. “Griff works for Brotherhood Protectors, an organization that helps people and he can tell you about them in a bit. Were you with Chelsea and the others until you were arrested?”
Fear flickered over Martin’s face, and he knotted his fingers together. “Am I gonna be charged with–you know. Solicitation?”
“We think Sergeant Miller is going to speak to the DA about it,” Griff shared. “Would you tell us what you know?”
“It’s kind of a long story,” Martin hedged.
“Might go better with a coke and burger?” Elaine offered.
Martin sat up. “No shi-I mean, really?”
Griff laughed, went to the door and spoke to Owen, passing him some bills. He returned to the table, sat and said, “It will be here in just a bit.”
While they waited, they chatted about trivial things. UT’s current football season, the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday, and the latest videos on TikTok, which surprised Griff. He’d not thought of Elaine and that social platform in the same universe.
The oversize bag of food, with two burgers, a large French-fry and two soft drinks, arrived and they watched Martin devour it like a starving man. When he was finished, he sat the bag aside, took a sip of his second soda and said, “Thanks. That was great.”
“Okay,” Elaine said. “Let’s get started.”
“We need an officer to take down what you can tell us,” Griff said. At Martin’s startled expression, he added, “We need to share what you tell us to track down the people still holding the girls so we can find them and throw the book at them. You good with that?”
“Yeah,” Martin said softly as Elaine went to the door and spoke to someone. A few minutes later, Sergeant Owen joined them. He put his phone on the table and said, “I’m going to record this to be sure we get down everything just right,” he said. “It will save time and get us out looking for your friends.”
“You g-guys really believe me?” Martin stammered. “They s-said you wouldn’t. That no one would.”
“We will and we do,” Elaine said firmly. “We really need to know about the past month, but you then can also tell us how you and Chelsea came to be with the other dancers. Where were you before coming to Knoxville?”
“St. Louis,” Martin said, pulling the drink’s straw up and down. “Did you get Chelsea’s postcard?”
“Yeah,” Elaine said. “This past Monday morning. How did you get away to send it?”
“That old bit–I mean bat who was watching us in St. Louis was too hung over a week ago Friday to go buy her own smokes, so she sent me,” Martin explained. “The store had postcards and when I saw one with the Sunsphere, I used the change from the money she gave me to buy it. I’d stolen some stamps from the house where they’d stashed us and put card in the PO box outside the store. We left St. Louis the next day.”
“But if you put it in the PO box by the store, how did Chelsea get the chance to write it?” Elaine asked.
He grinned. “She didn’t ‘cause I forged her writing. She and me got real good at doing stuff like that, and lotsa times the couples who watched us wherever we were, would make me do errands. I wrote lots of cards pretending to be Chelsea. She’d memorized your work address and told me.”
“Clever,” Griff praised. “Since those couples let you have a bit of freedom, did you ever think of running away and asking for help?”
Martin scowled. “I’d never leave Chelsea behind, man. She’s like my sister, you know?”
“Sure do,” Griff said quickly. “I’d have done the same thing. So. You and the girls left St. Louis a week ago Friday, no doubt with a couple of over-night stops along the way until you got to Knoxville. When did you get here?”
“Last Wednesday,” Martin said, confirming what Silas Clark had told them.
“This is really helping, Martin,” Elaine said. “Do you know where you were being held?”
He shook his head. “They always kept us blind-folded when we traveled and wouldn’t tell us where we were going ‘til we got there. The places we stayed always had blacked out windows and we were locked in our rooms. They moved us from the first place we stayed to a new one on Friday. I think this place is somewhere in the country ‘cause I could smell the river.”
Griff leaned in, putting his arms on the table. “I have a question,” he said. “You said the other day you went by your parents’ house and saw them in the backyard, but I’m guessing they didn’t see you. Who took you?”
For a moment, Elaine thought the boy was going to cry. But he clenched his jaw and said, “Fritz, the guy who’s watching us, wanted a bracelet a customer gave me.” He shuddered but said, “I hated the damn thing. The only reason I kept it was I think it might be valuable and I thought one day I could sell it and me and Chelsea could run away. But I told Fritz I would give it to him if he would drive by my parents’ house. He made me wear a blindfold there and back, but he let me look in the back yard and I saw them. We went on Friday afternoon.”
“I see,” Elaine said softly. “Do you think you could share with us what happened to you and Chelsea after you left home?”
Not “ran away” but “left home”, Griff thought. Good going, Elaine.
Slowly, but clearly, as if the food and their trust had calmed him, Martin described how he and Chelsea had been lured by a “talent scout” to join a group of dancers on their way to Hollywood, promising work in movies and on stage. Within days, their dreams became nightmares, and a long cycle of sexual assaults began as they and other kids were moved from city to city, servicing pedophiles. How at every place they stopped, there was always a couple at a house to watch them, making sure they didn’t run away.
He didn’t give a lot of detail, other than to say they’d both been raped more times than he could count by hundreds of men. If they or the others put up a fuss, they were beaten.
“Me and Chelsea started the exotic dancing–”which is BS for stripping-“with The Honeys two years ago,” Martin explained, his voice now flat. “We’d dance or strip at clubs and then we were offered to whoever wanted us. Sometimes there’d be other dancers there too, but we weren’t permitted to talk to them. Some of the places were nasty, with gambling and maybe drug deals but I’m not sure…”
“You’re doing great, Martin,” Griff told him, and with a shy smile, Martin continued to describe other places that were “almost nice, kinda high-class.” But it was still the same nightmare. Girls were swapped in and out, but he and Chelsea were always kept together because they’d developed a routine that the so-called “customers” liked to watch.
As his story unfolded, Griff silently marveled at Elaine’s gentle, tactful weaving of her questions into those of Sergeant Owens and her compassionate silent listening.
And all the while he listened, he thought his heart would break as he thought of little Izzie somewhere in Central America, possibly suffering the same fate at the hands of monsters.
“Me and Chelsea being together is about the only reason I kept believing that one day we’d be rescued.” Martin took another long pull of his drink. “And why I kept believing in God. Like maybe it was his will we were kept together, you know?”
“Sounds like that’s what He had in mind,” Griff said. “God surprises us sometimes.”
“Yeah,” Martin said, putting his cup aside. “I’m kinda tired. Do you know when my parents are going to get here?”
“Soon,” Owen told him. “Real soon.”
“Martin, you’ve been great,” Elaine praised. “Just one more question. I know you said you weren’t sure where you’ve been staying, but did you ever hear Fritz or anyone else mention where that might be?”
“I know I heard ‘em talking about it,” Martin said. “I’ve been trying to remember all night, but I haven’t slept well since I got here, so my memory is kinda tired, you know? I’ll keep trying.”
He rubbed his eyes and looked much younger than his nineteen years. “Can I tell you what really happened when I was busted the other day?” he asked shyly.
“You mean here in Knoxville?” Owen asked. “After listening to how these couples kept you locked up, I’ve been wondering how you came to be on the street the other day when you–”
A dark red spread over Martin’s face, stopping Owen’s words, but his gaze on them never wavered. “The couple taking care of us since we’ve been here told me someone wanted me for an early morning hook-up. Fritz said if I didn’t go, he’d hurt Chelsea, so I didn’t have a choice. Fritz told me what the guy looked like and dropped me off at the meeting sight and went to get a beer. He was already half-drunk anyway and knew I wouldn’t run away and leave Chelsea. So, I watched for a guy who was tall, African American and wearing a UT jacket. Saw him, walked up and made my pitch and–”
“And found out you were talking to off duty Officer Jackson Harris,” Owen finished, a wide grin spreading over his face. “Martin, I know what’s happened to you isn’t one bit funny, but it’s almost comical that you should mistake a Knoxville police officer for your john and get arrested and here you are, helping us. Talk about a piece of luck.”
“I think Martin got it right when he said he thought God was watching out for him and Chelsea,” Griff said. “Sounds like the man upstairs was on the job.”
“But now I’m here.” Martin’s eyes filled with tears. “Fritz will tell Chelsea I ran away and left her, and I’ll never know if they might move her or the others–”
A knock at the door signaled its opening and Grant Miller looked in. “Hey, Martin. There’s someone here who wants to say hey. Elaine and Griff? Can I see you?”
They made it outside as a man and woman, hope and fear on their features and just managing to hold on to a leashed miniature schnauzer, stumbled into the room. Owen barely had time to close the door before loud, keening wails of joy began, accompanied by a frantic cacophony of ecstatic barking.
“They made good time from Memphis,” Elaine exclaimed as Miller walked them back to the front desk. “What did you do, Grant? Clear the Interstate for them?”
Satisfaction erased some of the weariness from Miller’s face. “Very nearly,” he said. “They had a county-to-county escort all the way here, blue lights flashing the entire time. Heard there were nearly arguments among my brothers in blue over who would have the honor of escorting them. Don’t know what they’ll think in Nashville, but I don’t care. It was worth it.”
“I know Martin is an adult, but can you get the DA to release him to his parents?” Griff asked. “He’s offered some considerably good stuff that should put away some of these monsters for a very long time.”
“Yeah, we’re going to let him go,” Miller agreed. “I did some more digging on Martin’s Wisconsin case. Seems that guy was into rough sex, and Martin fought back. All that initial crap about Martin stealing his wallet was just that–crap. Dude didn’t want it to come out he’d engaged an underage male hooker, which is why he didn’t press charges. We can probably get Martin’s solicitation of our own Officer Jackson dropped.” He squinted at Elaine but was smiling. “You’re not pressing charges for the other day, are you?”
She stuck out her tongue and laughing he said, “I didn’t think so.”
“Can you give Martin our contact information?” Elaine handed him their cards with their numbers. “In case he needs to talk to us again?”
“Absolutely.” Miller put the cards in his shirt’s front pocket. “Did you hear about Silas Clark dying?”
“Yes,” Elaine sighed. “If we didn’t have him on tape during both meetings, I’d be more upset. But at least he gave us Big Daddy.” A weariness from listening to Martin’s trauma swept over her and she leaned against Griff. “What a way to spend Sunday morning.”
“Come on, then, Miz Prescott,” Griff drawled again. “Let’s head back and find out what good news my Aunt Sally might have uncovered. After all, Sunday is the best day of the week to get good news.”