Chapter 32 #2
He swallowed, nodding. “Okay then.” He looked back at the cheese, but maybe only to hide some emotion he didn’t want her to see.
It was her fault he felt so uncertain about their marriage. She was driving a wedge between them because of her own fear—that she didn’t deserve him. That he’d find someone better.
Not that there weren’t plenty of better options for him to choose, but…he’d chosen her.
And she’d chosen him. And maybe that was all she needed to know.
They’d been in the house for three days.
The first night, she had still been unwell, the sore throat creeping in again at the edges, a low ache starting behind her temples. Ethan had warmed a roasted chicken and made mashed potatoes with lots of butter and milk. The meal had been warm and soothing.
He’d picked out another movie after dinner, a romance meant to be funny, and she had stayed awake for most of it, though she’d missed the ending.
She remembered only the hero and heroine on a sunny beach and then, much later, the surprising feeling of Ethan’s chest as he carried her up the stairs. He had laid her on the bed and pressed his lips to her forehead.
She’d woken a couple of hours later in the dark room to find a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen on the nightstand with a note telling her to take them if her fever returned.
The second night, she’d felt well enough to cook, though there weren’t the right ingredients to make any of her favorite dishes.
But she’d seared steaks and steamed broccoli and rice.
They’d eaten on the floor in the living room in front of a roaring fire.
After dinner, rather than watching a movie, they’d played cards and talked for hours.
He’d told her stories from his work, some serious, some so funny that she’d laughed until she’d cried.
That night, he had walked her to her door and kissed her, slow and lovely, and for a moment, she’d wanted to draw him with her through the door behind her.
She hadn’t, though. She’d said goodnight and then dreamed of him.
Now it was the morning of the third day, and Ethan sat at the kitchen table with his laptop open and a mug beside him, focused on the screen.
Mei Lin held her tea and watched the trees moving with the breeze and thought about mornings like this one, him at his screen and her at her tea, neither of them feeling like they needed to fill the silence. This could be their lives. This would be their lives.
If Lu Feng were ever captured.
She thought about the town they had driven through to reach this place. There’d been a church steeple, a river running gray under bare trees, and a spattering of restaurants. She had pressed her face to the window as they’d passed and decided it was the prettiest place she’d seen in years.
Not that she didn’t appreciate this luxurious house, but she would love to walk through the antique shop or the bookstore they’d passed. She would love to look at…whatever they sold. Food, clothes, souvenirs… Or just to walk. To be outside in the sunshine.
But they had to stay in the house. They couldn’t be seen. And she wasn’t complaining, of course, only tired of being trapped.
Ethan’s phone buzzed against the wooden table.
He glanced at the screen. “I don’t recognize the number, but it’s from Maine.” He thumbed the call open. “Hello?” There was a pause, then Ethan said, “Hold on,” and put the phone on speaker. “We’re both here now.”
“Hey.” The man on the phone had a deep, friendly voice, the kind that sounded like it was smiling. “My name is Callan Templeton. I’m Alyssa Wright’s fiancé. Also, I work for the FBI.”
This was the oldest sister’s future husband.
“I am Mei Lin.”
“Nice to kind of meet you. Gavin pulled me in on Lu Feng last week, asked me to dig around as a favor.” His voice shifted from friendly to serious—a work-voice, she thought.
“At first, I came up with next to nothing. The man’s careful.
But when Gavin sent me what you brought out of China, the whole thing cracked open. ”
“To ‘crack open’ is good, right?”
“Yes, very.” The smile was there again. “Dr. Lu has been moving a lot of money, and lucky for us, some of it’s parked in the States.
” Paper shifted on his end. “Lu Feng has three accounts, one of which is associated with a company that owns real estate in Kansas. The way the money moves through the accounts—it’s being laundered. You know what I mean?”
“To wash like clothes?” She glanced at Ethan, whose smile told her she’d said something funny.
Callan explained. “It’s the term we use to mean that dirty money—money earned through some criminal enterprise—is made to look like it came from a legitimate business. Does that make sense?”
“Yes, I see. To make him look like a good man.”
“Exactly. It was enough evidence that I took it to my supervisor, and he turned it over to the financial crimes division. They’re investigating.”
“They’ll arrest him?”
“We’re not quite to that point yet, but I suspect those accounts will be frozen soon, meaning he won’t be able to take money out or transfer it elsewhere.”
“This is good…” She couldn’t finish her sentence as emotion clogged her throat. She’d lost hope that anything she’d done six years before would ever matter. And now, the evidence had reached this man, Callan, and suddenly, somebody cared.
“It’s great,” Callan said. “But if we want to do more than take Lu’s money, we need a witness, one of his victims.” The brightness left his voice.
“I’ve been looking for the women, the ones in the ledger, but so much time has passed, and I don’t have the access I need.
Most of them are only names, and we don’t know where they ended up—did they stay in China or move across the border, and if so, which border?
I thought I’d hit a dead end, but now I think I found one.
Maybe. I managed to get an old photo of one of the women and used facial recognition software to see if we could locate her anywhere. ”
“In America, or can you search other places?”
“I can only search in America, but I think we got lucky. A traffic camera picked up an image of a possible match, before any of this reached me. I’m sending the picture to your phone now. I need you to tell me if you recognize her and if so, if you remember her name.”
The phone buzzed, and she tapped the messaging app and opened the photo.
“Take your time,” Callan said. “We need you to be certain.”
The image was grainy, shot from above at an odd angle. The woman stood at a curb, half-turned, a plastic bag hanging from one hand. She looked too old and too thin. Her cheekbones were too sharp, her mouth pressed into an unhappy line.
But Mei Lin knew the shape of that face, which had often displayed a wide smile and sparkling eyes.
“I know her.” Emotion bubbled in her voice. “It is ài Le.”
On the other end of the line, Callan exhaled. “Yes. I was pretty sure, but it’s great to hear you confirm it.”
“You can save her?” Mei Lin set the phone on the table again. ài Le, the woman who’d come to the hospital with a broken arm because of her husband’s drinking. She’d been eager to go home to her children, but Dr. Lu had stolen her away.
Mei Lin had prayed for her and the other women who’d disappeared into Lu Feng’s network, that God would rescue them even if He never rescued her.
ài Le wasn’t free yet, though.
“We have to find her first,” Callan said.
“But how?” Mei Lin pressed. “She is one woman, and the world is very large.”
“It is.” She heard Callan’s smile return. “We’ve got a place to start and a face to match, and we won’t quit looking until she’s found.”
Tears pressed against Mei Lin’s eyes. “Please, if you talk to her, tell her that I’ve thought of her often.” She swallowed the emotion. “She won’t remember me, but I have never forgotten her.”
“If I get to talk to her, I’ll tell her. And you… You’re a very courageous woman, Mei Lin. I’m glad you’re part of our family.”
She looked at Ethan, whose eyes widened. He stared at the phone with equal parts surprise and wonder.
Paper shifted again on the other end of the phone. “We’re looking for the other ones too. Were these women attempting to leave China and just got caught up in this smuggling ring, or—”
“They were patients at a clinic in Fuyin, where I used to work. They came for care and were sent to rest—to recover.”
“And never made it,” Ethan said.
“Okay.” Callan drew out the word. “How did they end up as victims?”
“Dr. Lu said he was sending them for rehab, but he put them in cars and sent them off to…whoever purchased them. They had families, ài Le had children who never heard from her again.”
“Wow. That’s gutsy, and…so evil.”
“Will the women be in trouble?”
“For being sold against their will?” Callan sounded almost offended. “Of course not. We’re looking for them because they’re victims—and because we need witnesses.”
“And then they will be sent back to China?”
There was a pause. “That depends on a lot of things—where they’re found, what they know, and if they want to go back.
For your friend ài Le, if she wants to stay in the US, and if she cooperates with our investigation, then she’ll be able to stay.
But if she has children and a family back home…
? I guess she’ll have to decide if it’s worth the risk. ”
“I see. Because even if Lu Feng is stopped—”
“We can’t bring down his whole organization. We can pass along what we know to Chinese authorities, but what they do with it…” His voice trailed.
“I understand. But she will have a choice. She will be safe.”
“If she cooperates, safer than she is right now. There are a lot of organizations specifically built to take care of women being freed from human trafficking. She’ll be taken care of, if she chooses to stay. Given food and housing, taught a trade, offered counseling—you know, that kind of thing.”
Mei Lin hadn’t known, and again, she felt emotion pressing against her eyes. “And you will find the rest?”