Chapter 21
A little over an hour later, we pulled up behind the convenience store. I wasn’t confident I’d secured my blond wig well enough, but I wasn’t anticipating anyone grabbing my hair and yanking.
I wore jeans and a T-shirt with a jacket to cover my shoulder harness, my gun strapped in.
I also had a backpack with supplies I might need.
I wasn’t used to long hair and kept wanting to pull it back into a ponytail, but I needed to look as different as possible—and I definitely didn’t look like myself.
The plan was for James to stay behind the building while I walked around to the front door. Once I was inside, I’d let him in through the back door, and he’d wait in the storeroom.
We’d made contingency plans: what to do if she screamed—run out the back.
What to do if she wanted to leave her trafficker—we’d bring her with us and figure out where to take her later.
What to do if her handler came in—alert James, who would help me disarm him if necessary, then run out the back.
What to do if he held me at gunpoint—alert James, and he’d shoot the bastard.
One thing I refused to plan for was walking away with a big, fat nothing. I’d told him I wasn’t going to allow that negative thinking into my head.
After I headed around the building, I walked into the store and spotted Cassandra at the counter. She glanced up when I came in but didn’t give me more than a millisecond of attention. When the customer she was ringing up walked out the door, I approached her.
She flicked her eyes over me, curious. “The bathrooms ain’t locked, honey. You don’t need a key.”
“Cassandra, it’s me,” I said.
Her gaze snapped to my face with confusion, then recognition. Her eyes widened. “Oh, my God. You’re undercover.”
I grinned. “Good to have confirmation it worked.”
“Girl, if I hadn’t planned to see you tonight, I never would have guessed it was you. Even if I checked you out at my register.”
“I take it your girl hasn’t been in yet?”
She shook her head. “Not yet, but if she follows the usual pattern, she should be here within the next ten minutes.”
“I’m gonna try to talk to her and make sure she’s okay.” I leaned in a little. “Would it be okay if I take her to the back?”
Cassandra pursed her lips. “Honey, you can try, but she’s as skittish as a bass at a fish fry. I doubt she’ll agree to talk to you, let alone go to the back.”
“How likely is it that she’s been trafficked?” I asked.
Cassandra nodded as the bell over the door clanged behind me. She lowered her voice. “I should’ve realized it last night, but she’s a regular, you know? And I thought most of those girls were older. And kept better guarded. She comes in alone, but a man sits in a car and waits for her.”
My heart skipped a beat. “How old do you think she is?”
Cassandra’s gaze tracked the customers behind me, and her mouth tightened. In the convex mirror behind her, I saw two guys by the beer case.
“Dunno. She wears a lot of makeup to cover it up,” she murmured. “But I’d guess her to be about fourteen. Maybe fifteen.”
My blood ran cold. I wasn’t sure why the information about her age had caught me off guard.
I knew young girls got trafficked—I wasn’t na?ve.
Maybe I’d gotten thrown off by Wilhemina from the Velvet Room.
She wasn’t underaged. But runaway teen girls, or girls from rough homes were easy prey.
Desperate for somewhere to sleep and something to eat.
They just didn’t know they’d traded one prison for another.
Now I really wanted to help this girl.
“I guess we’ll see what happens,” I said. “For now, I’ll wait by the bathrooms, so I don’t look suspicious to anyone outside.”
She waved a hand. “You do you, girl. If this child is really bein’ pimped out, then I’ll do anything I can to help her. Lettin’ you stand by the bathrooms is no big deal.”
“Thanks.”
I headed to the back, opened the back door, and found myself face-to-face with an angry James Malcolm.
“What the fuck too so long?” he growled under his breath.
I let him in and made sure the door was shut behind him. “I was talking to Cassandra. Letting her know I was going to hang out back here while I waited.”
His eyes narrowed. “You didn’t tell her I was gonna be back here, did you?”
“What do you take me for?” I grumbled. “An amateur?”
“No.” His voice stayed low. “A rule follower.”
It felt like a judgement, not a statement. “Not anymore, I’m not,” I said, bitterness slipping out before I could stop it.
“Hey.”
I turned to face him, his face inches from mine.
“You can change your mind about any of this at anytime,” he said, his voice rough and insistent.
I shook my head. It was obvious he’d misunderstood. “I’m okay with not following the rules.”
“Then what are you pissed about?”
That was a good question.
Why was I bitter? Because I was furious that I’d lost my badge and was being forced to handle all of this outside the law? Or because I was angry I’d waited so long to color outside the lines?
I decided to ignore the question and tell him something more important. “Cassandra says she thinks the girl is about fourteen or fifteen.”
A hard look filled his eyes.
“Hey, girl,” Cassandra called out, louder than I’d ever heard her. “You in for your nightly treat?”
I shot a glance at James. “She’s here. And early.”
“Be careful,” he ground out.
“I’ve got this,” I whispered, and headed to the front.
I did not have this. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I realized there was almost no chance she’d talk to me. I was a complete stranger and a woman. Even if she wanted help, she’d probably assume I couldn’t protect her.
When I emerged from the hall into the store, I paused and flicked a glance at Cassandra. She nodded toward the far back corner, her eyes wide.
I headed that way, pretending to browse the coolers as I closed the distance. I stopped about six feet away from the girl, opened a cooler door, and ran my fingers over the bottles like I couldn’t decide.
Then I stole a quick look at her.
She was a few inches over five feet, though her worn black ankle boots added a couple of inches.
Her legs were covered in sheer black tights with a few small holes, topped by a black micro-mini skirt.
A denim jacket covered her top. She was blond with a quarter inch of dark roots.
When she opened the cooler, she turned slightly, and I caught her heavy, dark eye makeup and bright red lips.
Cassandra was right. She looked young. Maybe even younger than fourteen.
I shoved down a wave of horror and fury. If she thought I was angry, I’d scare her off.
She grabbed two energy drinks from the cooler and turned toward me. Under the denim jacket, she wore a low-cut black tank top. A sliver of her red bra peeked above the plunging neckline, too deliberate to be accidental.
She saw me looking and dropped her gaze.
How the hell was I going to approach her?
Cassandra said she usually got candy too.
I took a bottle of water and drifted to that aisle.
After snagging a Snickers bar, I hovered like I was debating something else.
She followed but kept her distance. She was skittish, like she’d been coached not to interact with anyone in the store.
We had a product stand between us and the window, but it was low enough that anyone outside could see our heads.
As if to prove it, she glanced over her shoulder toward the door.
I followed her gaze to the white, older Buick parked just to the left of the entrance. A dark-haired man sat behind the wheel. I’d peg him to be in his mid-to-late thirties.
“You gettin’ somethin’ for your dad?” I asked, keeping my tone light and conversational.
Her eyes flew wide. She snapped her gaze to mine, terror washing over her face.
“Hey,” I said, softening my voice. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”
I took a single step toward her out of pure instinct, but she took one back, clutching the energy drinks to her chest as if they were a shield.
I cast a glance at the Buick again. The guy was looking down at his phone.
I dropped to a squat, putting myself out of his line of sight. “I won’t hurt you,” I said quietly. “I want to help.”
She stared at me, frozen.
Fight or flight … and this girl wasn’t a fighter.
Then again, a trafficker didn’t want a fighter. They’d cause too much trouble. But girls like the one in front of me—small, scared, easily controlled—they were easy pickings.
My stomach roiled. I felt like I was going to be sick.
“You don’t have to go out that door and get in his car,” I said gently. “I can make sure you’re protected.”
She shook her head, tears filling her eyes.
“Do you want to go with that man?” I asked. When she didn’t answer, I tried a different route. “How old are you?”
She lifted her chin. “Sixteen.”
“How old are you really?” My voice went softer.
Surprise spread across her face. Then, to my shock, she whispered, “Thirteen.”
My stomach dropped and my resolve to save her doubled down. “Do you want to go with that man?”
She gave a slow, terrified shake of her head.
“Harper,” Cassandra called out, a sharp warning in her voice. “He’s comin’ in…”
Panic exploded over the girl’s face. She bolted for the door, still clutching the cans to her chest.
I stood and watched as she collided with the driver, who’d been approaching the entrance.
He grabbed her upper arm and shook her hard enough that the cans slipped from her grip and clattered to the ground.
His free hand lifted like he was about to strike her, but then he glanced at Cassandra through the window and dropped it.
Instead, he shoved the girl toward the spill.
“Pick up those cans and get your ass in the car.”
I didn’t think he saw me, but I couldn’t be sure.
Cassandra’s gaze snapped to mine. “What are we gonna do?”
I knew exactly what I was going to do. I was furious I’d just stood here and hadn’t done it sooner.