20. Olivia
Chapter twenty
Olivia
It has been a week since Alex came back to my apartment with me. I can’t get any moment of that night out of my head. It was pure bliss. Alex has been busy with work, but we have texted back and forth a couple of times. It was a short conversation, but I didn’t mind. I am not a very big texting person anyway; I prefer a face-to-face conversation to read emotions and the room. I guess that’s just what my dad ingrained in my and Oliver’s heads since we were little.
Don’t trust anyone.
Don’t turn your back.
Always have each other.
Keep your guard up at all times.
I put on my undershirt and slicked my hair back into a bun. I also put on some eyeliner and mascara to make my face look less like death. At this point, the whole process of putting on my uniform is muscle memory. My mind doesn’t have to think, which is one of the many reasons I love wearing a uniform to work.
My mind keeps going back to Oliver coming to San Diego. I'm curious about his meeting and why he has to come here from New York. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful that Oliver is coming to visit, but I am nosy why. My brother and I are yin and yang. I need him to help my brain function. Some say our relationship is too co-dependent, but what do you expect when you share everything with someone for your whole life? We never gave a shit about what people said, about how close we are. He is my better and smarter half. I am just the fighter.
After one last look at myself in the mirror, I head down the stairs to the garage while searching for my keys. I trip over the last step and catch myself on the brick wall at the bottom of the stairs. Grace was not my strong suit. I am fantastic at tripping over air.
I get my balance, grab my keys, and go to the back of the parking lot. I don’t park up front because some families or elders need those spots more than I do. I can walk further to my car to help a mom with three screaming kids as she tries to get them up the stairs.
I see around ten dead crows on the hood as I approach my car. On my windshield, there is the blood that looks like it was finger-painted, that said.
Fucking PIG! Keep your nose out of our shit!
I looked around the garage to see if anyone was there. This message looks like a teenager wrote it, but there is no telling nowadays. I stuck my finger in the blood, and it’s still warm, meaning this finger painting was recent. Whoever did this knows I am a cop and that I am investigating something. I have been on many cases, so it could be anyone. But who would come to my home to leave me a message? Someone deranged, for sure.
I took pictures of my car, removed the crows from my hood, and took them to the nearest trash can in the parking garage. I took three trips to the trash can to remove all twelve birds from my car. I was close to my guess of ten. Is the number twelve a sign of something?
I will take my car to the car wash before I head to the office. The last thing I need is for people to start asking me questions and to take me off the Los Comos case. This is a case I have worked my ass off to get onto, and they finally trust me enough to put me on it. I refuse to let them down.
Once I enter the office, I sit at my desk, flopping into my chair and looking at the massive stack of files on my desk. Who the fuck piled my desk. Ugh. With an eye roll, I grab the first file off the top of the stack, and my heart drops. There is a picture of a little girl in the file who can’t be older than ten. She has big blue eyes, blonde hair that looks like it hasn’t been brushed or washed ever that flows down to her butt. She is in a dress covered in dirt, and she seems like she hasn’t had a bite of food in months. This has to be a picture of her now that she is captured. Flipping the page, I see more information on her: the missing person’s report, school reports, medical reports, birth certificate, and a family photo. She looks to be the middle child of five kids and the only girl. The picture shows her in the most adorable baby-blue dress; her hair is braided in French braids, and she has the biggest smile in the world. Her four brothers are wearing matching jeans and white shirts, staring at her and smiling. This picture is so pure. I bet her family is worried sick. I know if it were my kid or sibling, I would be. I couldn’t even imagine what would happen if Oliver went missing.
I took a second to gather myself before grabbing the next file, and it was a little boy. I looked at his birth certificate and realized he had just had a birthday; he was barely three. My blood goes cold. He is Hispanic and honestly reminds me of Alex with his dark hair and big brown eyes. In the picture, he has the biggest smile and a dimple on his right cheek; he is the cutest little kid I have ever seen. You wouldn’t know that he was in captivity if it weren't for the lack of meat on his bones and the dirty clothes, just like in the previous picture. I keep flipping through and see a picture of him and a woman I assume is his mom. It was just the two of them. Holy shit. I couldn’t imagine losing my son. I would burn the whole world to the ground to find my kid.
I continued flipping through all the other files for another two hours. There are a total of one hundred and three files. Of the one hundred and three files, I have thirty males, forty women, and thirty-three children. All of these files are of different ages, races, and genders. Apparently, Los Comos likes everyone; it doesn’t matter what kind of person they are willing to sell anyone. All of these files have a current picture of them and one of them before they were taken. I am not sure how they got the current photos of them, but they all look like they haven’t had any food for a month, need a shower, and are in disgustingly dirty clothes.
This case is going to be harder to handle than I expected. I knew they were trafficking, but I thought it would be more women than children; apparently, I was way off. There are almost the same number of women, men, and children in these files. There is no way Lopez-García is doing this alone, which means I need to take down all of them, even if it’s the last thing I do.
I have never felt so determined! I refuse to let these people down. I need to get them back to their families, and I will do anything in my power to make that happen.