Sex, Lies & Black Tie Page 6

  “Don’t you think I did that already that? Her phone is off or…” She paused and I knew she’d thought out the word. “Dead.”

  “Try not to overreact. Hopefully this will end with you giving her a good tongue-lashing about being irresponsible.”

  “That’s just it, Mac. She is responsible. Don’t you see? This isn’t like her at all. That’s what scares me the most.

  “Look, we’re going to put everyone on it. It’ll be my ass if she turns up at her boyfriend’s apartment in the sack, but I’ll deal with that when it happens. It’s a small price to pay to know she’s safe.”

  I dropped Micah off at the front and parked, taking the elevator up to the floor. As soon as the doors opened, I found her surrounded by everyone who was working late—including Dan.

  Walking into the crowd, I didn’t know what I could offer. Technically I wasn’t a full-time agent, but no one was going to stop me from being in the mix.

  “NYPD is out looking for her now and the New York office is on their way to the hotel to talk with her roommate, since she was the last person to see Frankie.”

  “We’ve sent over the photos that Micah just gave us and—” Dan said.

  Everyone stopped when Micah’s phone rang and she shouted, “It’s her!” before answering. “Frankie! Where are you?”

  She paused, and we all remained silent, waiting for the good news. A couple of the guys walked away immediately, knowing if the kid was safe, there were other things to do.

  “Who is this?” Micah asked, her tone eerily sober.

  “Put it on speaker,” Dan hissed. “Track it goddammit.”

  Pulling the phone from her ear, Micah tapped the screen once and held it in the center of the group.

  “Help.” It was only a whisper, but it was definitely not a female voice. “Help us.”

  “Where’s my sister? Where’s Frankie? Who are you?”

  “I can’t…” The voice waned through a broken connection. “Help us. Please.”

  The line went dead, and Micah screamed, dropping to her knees—the phone still lying in the center of her upturned palm.

  “What part of New York City did the call come from?” Dan shouted.

  “It’s here, sir. The phone is being used here in D.C.”

  “Get me an address from global positioning. Call the D.C. Police and tell them to meet us there.” With a calm look on his face, Dan turned to me. “Let’s go.”

  “I’m coming too,” Micah shouted.

  “Hey,” I began as I held her back. The emotional side of me knew why she wanted to ride with us. The rational side was afraid of what we might find. The distress call was from her phone—not her.

  A voice rang out from behind us. “Agent Kelley.”

  I turned to find a tall redhead with freckles and a determined look on his face. “I got your message.”

  “Mac,” Dan said handing me a Glock. “This is Agent Jason Fuller. He’s new. He’s working in our cyber department—human trafficking.”

  Dan said the words and then looked down and away from Micah. “Micah, I think it’s best if you stay here. They’ll call you if there’s anything you need to know. Out there, you’re a liability. Understand?”

  “I’ll take the team, including Fuller, and get to the location,” I said.

  “Queens Chapel area, sir.” Fuller shouted.

  “Shit. I’ve been to that neighborhood before.”

  “Metro is on their way too, sir,” Fuller continued. “We need to move.”

  Two minutes later, sirens blaring, we roared through the streets of the city to the southeast corner.

  “Thank you,” Fuller said hanging up and looking to me. It had been a while since I’d driven a bucar, but I’d not lost my touch with the old sedans that plagued the Bureau. Some of them were older and they were all ugly, but that V8 engine could get down and boogie.

  “NYPD thinks she was taken into a ring that runs from Flushing, Queens to D.C. and Boston.”

  “How do they know she was picked up there?”

  “The owner of a bodega in Queens called the police a couple of nights ago saying someone had taken a screaming girl off the street corner and put her in an unmarked van. The police followed up, but didn’t have anything else to go on. The description fits Micah’s sister.”

  “Shit.”

  Pulling into the address we tracked, the entire area was wall to wall police officers and flashing lights. The press had even shown up in anticipation of some action for the eleven o’clock news.

  “Agent Callahan,” Fuller said. “I’ve worked on a couple of these cases before and they never turn out good. We have about a four-day window to track her down and find her. If we don’t, she’ll be lost.”

  “Lost?”

  “Yes sir. The young girls and boys are loaded up with drugs. They tie them down and shoot them up. Once they’re addicted, they’re stuck. We find most of them dead on the street.”

  “I guess I’m out of the loop on this. I thought the majority of the human trafficking was bringing foreign girls to the states—you know—fake ads in hometown newspapers foretelling bright futures and better lives in the states where they can be a nanny.”

  “Yeah,” Fuller sighed. “Plane tickets are expensive. It’s easier to find kids right here.”

  Slamming the car door, I found the police officer in charge. “Agent Mac Callahan,” I said flashing my badge. “This is Agent Fuller.”

  “Officer Wooding, sir,” he said shaking my hand. “There’s not much to tell. We raided the place as fast as we could. It’s empty,” he said, nodding to the burned-out warehouse. “We found some old mattresses, a few restraints. Whoever was here knew we were coming. They left in a hurry. A big hurry.”

  “Mind if we take a look around?” I asked.

  “Be my guest,” he said. “We’ve tracked several groups through these neighborhoods. They like to prey on the throwaway kids—the ones whose parents are already drug addicts or they’re dead so the kids are living on the streets. These guys come along and feed them, buy them a few things they’ve always wanted and then they start prostituting them.”

  I shook my head. How could Frankie have gotten herself mixed up in something like this? I didn’t want to be the one to tell Micah we hadn’t found her, and yet I didn’t want anyone else to tell her either.

  Fuller and I walked into the dingy building and I thought of Frankie, alone, afraid or drugged up.

  “You know, a couple of months ago, we picked up a kid. A young man, only nineteen,” Fuller said as I looked over the place for anything Metro could have missed.

  “What’s your point?” I asked.

  “He was thrown from a car and left on the side of the road to die. Metro got a call about a dead body, but he was still alive—alive and covered in…” Fuller paused.

  “Speak up, son. We’re wasting time.”

  “He was covered in shit and vomit, sir. He said it was the reason he was thrown from the car. He was suffering from drug withdrawal and got sick on one of his Johns who tossed him out of a moving vehicle and left him for dead.”

  I stopped and stared Fuller in the face. “Where’s the kid now?

  “Not sure. ViCap may have more on the case, but it’s worth seeing if any of the collected DNA on him brings anything up in the system.”

  The evidence team was one step behind us. “Bag anything and everything. Test it all for DNA and run it through the database. If anything comes up I wanna know asap.”

  Walking past Fuller I motioned for him to follow. “Track down that kid. I want to talk to him.”

  “You got it. We need to check the web for signs that the girl—”

  “Frankie.”

  “Frankie.” Correcting himself, he quickly moved on. “We need to check the dark web for any notices of fresh girls on the market,” Fuller explained.

  “Shit,” I hissed. Frankie had fallen into something sinister—so sinister, I didn’t know if I, or anyone else, would be
able to save her.

  “Between you and me, there’s only a couple of people I trust to do it, sir,” Fuller said.

  “Why?”

  “It’s just a gut thing, sir. Not to brag, but I’m probably the best on the team in the Cyber Crime division, but it’s a tangled web—no pun intended—and it’s hard to know who’s on the right side of the law, sir. We outsource a lot of stuff.”

  “You’re saying you don’t trust the people inside the Bureau? Why?”

  “Like I said, sir, it’s a gut thing. I actually trust the outside people more.”

  “You’re losing me Fuller. Are you talking about using hackers?”

  Fuller nodded.

  “Let’s get out of here. We’ve only got forty-eight hours to find Frankie.”

  “Maybe less, sir. Once these kids are gone—they’re gone. Most of them don’t even know their real name by the time these assholes are through with them. That’s if and when they come out alive.”

  “I need to make some phone calls,” I said.

  “Micah?”

  “Well, that’s one. Why?”

  Fuller smiled and cocked his head. Holy Jesus. Fuller had a thing for Micah.

  “Keep it in your pants, son. I need to call a buddy at the NSA, and then I need to call in a favor—a big one.”

  6

  SAMANTHA

  Finally getting everyone tucked in for the night, I said goodnight to Celia, and walked into Mac’s office to fire off a few emails.

  The party planners and staff had all left when it was too dark to work. I couldn’t believe it was coming together so quickly. Tomorrow, Mac would be home to handle the security side of things and I could focus on making sure flowers, caterers and the band were all squared away.

  Sitting down, I looked at my phone and dialed. It was eight—not too late. She was a hundred and one, but never went to bed before ten.

  “Hey baby girl. How’re they hangin’?”

  “And a pleasant good evening to you too, Mimi.”

  My grandmother was one of the best things in my life. She was my touchstone—my rock. At the young age of one hundred and one, she lived not far from Lone Oak at Autumn Springs—a luxury home for older people. For the most part, she tolerated it. She handled it better the more she got out of her apartment. The North Star gala would be one of those occasions. She just didn’t know it yet.

  “Honey, all I have these days is my sense of humor and even that goes on the days I’m constipated.”

  “Mimi,” I scolded.

  “Sorry. The truth isn’t always what you think it should be, or very pretty. Remember that and you’ll never be surprised by anyone.”

  “I actually called to speak with you about something more pleasant.”

  “I’m all ears, honey. How are my beautiful great-grandchildren?”

  “They’re asleep.”

  “And my handsome grandson-in-law?”

  “He’s in Washington, D.C.”

  “Oh he is?”

  “That’s what I’m calling about. What do you have planned this Saturday evening?”

  Mimi scoffed on the other end. “You mean other than watching out my window to see if the undertaker shows up for someone on my floor?”

  “Really?” I knew by now how to handle my grandmother. She’d be upset with me if I ever acted like anything but a lady, but in turn she didn’t always follow her own rule.

  “Well honey, you asked and I’m telling you. At least old man McConnell has given the pick-up job to his grandson. Now there’s a handsome man, even if he is coming to claim a corpse. I hope when I go, the McConnell kid comes to get me.”

  “Can you not?” I asked.

  “Are you kidding? I’m over a hundred years old. It’s bound to happen sooner than later and I’m just sayin’.”

  “Fine,” I sighed, sliding into one of the big couches in the old study. I’d dealt with Mimi long enough to know there was no reasoning with her. It was her way or the highway. “I’ve made a mental note. Young McConnell must pick you up from Autumn Valley when the time comes.”

  “Thank you. Now, what’s this about Saturday night? Do I need a date?”

  “Do you have someone in mind?” I asked.

  “No, but it seemed like the thing to say.”

  I giggled. “Remember how I told you I was on the board of directors for the North Star Organization?”

  “Is that the one that keeps the hookers off the street?”

  I nearly choked. “Mimi. No.”

  “They aren’t hookers?”

  “Let’s get this straight from the beginning, okay? If you show up at my party on Saturday night and say these men, women and children who are being traded like chattel are hookers, I might have to kill you and call young McConnell to pick you up myself.”

  “Well, hell honey. Now you’re talkin’.”

  She broke out in laughter and I couldn’t help but smile.

  “I’m sorry, Sam. You know I have to occupy my time with something, and screwing with people is the cheapest form of entertainment I have.”

  “I know. I know.”

  “Tell me about your fabulous party. Anyone famous coming? I like that Brad Pitt.”

  “The President of the United States and the Secretary of State?”

  “Are you asking me or telling me that’s who’s coming instead of Brad?”

  “I’m telling you, Mimi. The venue in Atlanta had a water main break and the grand hall previously reserved is a no-go. So the board of directors and the planning committee asked if they could use Lone Oak as the backdrop for the fundraiser. It’s going to be three hundred of the most fabulous people ever right here at Lone Oak. It’s Saturday night and I want you to come. Will you come?”

  “Black tie?” Her aging voice had an edge of excitement.

  “You know it.”

  “I’d be delighted, sweetheart.”

  I paused for a moment, not knowing if I should revisit the date question again, but did. “Are you really bringing a date?

  “I was kidding, but if you could sit me at the table with the President, I have a few ideas I’d like to run past him—if you know what I mean.”

  I curled my legs under my body, so content and excited. Not only was the party of the year going to be at my home, but Mimi would be there to experience it with me. Although she always told me how proud she was, I liked sharing my accomplishments with her. My parents weren’t really into being parents and Mimi had always picked up the slack in that department.

  The intercom rang, and I looked out the front window to see a car at the entrance gate of Lone Oak.

  “Mimi,” I said, walking to get a better look. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Someone’s at the gate.”

  “Goodnight, baby girl. I’m very proud of you.”

  “Goodnight, Mimi.”

  Quickly I picked up the call. “Yes?”

  “Samantha, it’s Boone. Boone Henry.”

  “Senator Henry,” I began. “I mean, Boone. Did I miss something? Did we have an appointment?”

  “No ma’am.”

  “Come in.” I opened the double gate that led to the tree-lined lane ending at our home and the two-hundred-year-old oak tree that was the namesake of the plantation.

  I checked my face in the mirror. It had been a long day and I’d changed from my business attire into a skirt and t-shirt—the front of me still damp from the children’s baths. I didn’t have a stitch of make up on, but I didn’t want to leave Boone waiting.

  Opening the front door, I motioned for him to come in as he exited his car. This time he was alone.

  “Traveling light tonight?” I asked, trying to make a joke in the midst of my uncertainty.

  It was dark, but I could clearly see his toothy grin in the moonlight. “What? Oh, yes,” he said, finally understanding my lame joke. “No security detail tonight. I snuck out.”

  “Did it feel a little like high school?” I asked, stepping away from the door for him to enter. “Y
ou know, giving your parents the slip?”

  Boone smiled again. “A little like that.”

  “I have to say, my first thought was that something might be wrong. But you’re smiling, so I’m hoping that’s not the case. Did you want to take a look at what they finished today?”

  “I ah…” he said, hesitating as he looked around the house.

  “Are you sure everything’s okay?” My fear of looking like a hot mess changed over to a fear of something far worse.

  “Have you spoken with your husband tonight, Samantha?”

  A tight knot twisted in my gut and a flash of the police officers at my door the day my first husband, Daniel was killed ransacked my thoughts. “What’s happened?”

  “Oh God,” Boone said, taking my hands into his. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Your husband is safe.”

  Taking two steps back, I found a chair and sat to catch my breath. It was the first time in two years I’d feared for Mac’s safety—something he’d promised me I’d never have to worry about again. Taking a deep breath, I brushed the hair from my face and looked up to Boone. “Thank goodness.” I paused. “But you’re here, so something must be…happening.”

  Boone placed his hand on my shoulder. “Is there somewhere we can talk? Somewhere you’d be more comfortable?”

  I stood and did my best to catch my breath. The lump in my throat was choking me even though I knew Mac was safe. Seeing my apparent distress, Boone took my hand, squeezed it and gave me a nod.

  “I’m so very sorry, Samantha. I don’t mean to scare you.”

  “Let’s go to the west room, I can show you what the party planners accomplished today after you and Agent Jackman left.

  “I suppose I could’ve called, and maybe I should’ve,” Boone said, following me into the room.

  “It’s fine.” I turned on the lights over the veranda and the back of the property. The tent was fully erected, and dozens of round tables and golden chairs sat grouped inside it draped in a heavy shadow. They were waiting to be arranged tomorrow when the dance floor would arrive.

  “As you can see, the team made great progress. I’m so impressed with the party planner, Shelia. She’s been amazing.” The words tumbled mindlessly out of my mouth. I was on auto-pilot and didn’t realize it.