Livia Lone (Livia Lone #1)(27)

Even more than when she had spoken on the phone the day before to the Thai woman, Livia was overwhelmed at being able to understand someone, and this time someone who spoke her own language. “Yes!” she said, nodding vigorously and wiping the tears that had sprung to her eyes. “Yes, I’m Labee. Please, do you know where my sister Nason is?”

“We don’t know, Labee, but I want you to tell me everything you can so we can help. Was your sister with you on the boat?”

“Not on this boat. On a different boat. A bigger one. The one that took us from Thailand.”

“All right, wait just a moment, I’m going to translate what you said for these people. They’re going to try to help. All right?”

Livia nodded vigorously, her jaw clenched shut. Now that she could be understood, it was almost impossible not to talk.

Nanu translated, talking more to the men in suits than to Tanya or the other policewoman. Then she turned back to Livia. “Labee, the small boat you were on, the one that brought you here, came from Portland.”

“Portland?”

“Yes, a city on the West Coast of America. Was Nason with you when you were put on the small boat from Portland?”

An image of Nason, mute and vacant and bleeding, flashed across Livia’s mind, and she pushed it away. These people were trying to help. To help, they needed information. And the more they learned from Livia, the more she might learn from them.

“I . . . I think so. The men who took us made me go to sleep. When I woke up, I was on the small boat. And”—her voice caught for a moment, and she forced herself to continue—“Nason was gone.”

“Do you know how long you were on the big boat?”

“I’m not sure. We were in a box. But I think . . . maybe a week. Is this really America?”

“Yes, it is. A week would have been long enough to reach Portland. Were there other people with you on the big boat?”

America. Livia still couldn’t believe it. It was so dizzying, disorienting. She pushed the feeling away and forced herself to focus. “Yes, eleven other children, plus Nason and me. Hmong, Yao . . . all from the hill tribes.”

Nanu translated for the men in suits and talked back and forth with them. Then she said to Livia, “Some of these men are with the Immigration and Naturalization Service. That means they’re experts on human smuggling.”

“Human smuggling?”

“What happened to you and your sister. And the other children. Smugglers take people from poorer countries to richer ones.”

“You mean, they steal people?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what it means. And sometimes they even steal children.”

One of the men said something to Nanu. Nanu nodded and said to Livia, “There’s a lot of human smuggling from and through Thailand, and these men are trying to stop it. They want you to tell us about the men who took you so they can find and arrest them.”

Livia told them everything she could about Skull Face and Dirty Beard and Square Head. The men asked lots of questions, and Nanu translated back and forth.

At one point, Nanu asked, “Did the men . . . hurt you or your sister, Labee?”

The way she said it, Livia understood how she meant hurt. Without thinking, she said, “No. They just kept us in a box, like the one on the small boat. And they whipped a Hmong boy named Kai, when he tried to escape.”

Nanu looked at her, and Livia sensed she understood Livia was lying about the men not hurting her and Nason. But Nanu didn’t press. Not that it would have mattered. Livia was too ashamed of what the men had done to her, and too guilty about what they had done to Nason. She would never speak of it to anyone. Never.

Tanya said something to Nanu, who translated, “Where can we find your parents, Labee?”

Livia was immediately suspicious. “Why?”

Nanu nodded as though she already understood. “Labee, did your parents, did they . . .”

“My parents are dead.”

Nanu translated, and several minutes of animated talking followed. One of the pasty men in particular seemed to dominate the conversation. He was taller and more heavyset than the others, with a stripe of charcoal-colored stubble around his head but otherwise completely bald. His eyes were widely spaced behind wire glasses, and his ears were soft and meaty, the lobes as thick as little thumbs. As Livia looked from him to the other two men and back again, she realized his clothes seemed finer—blue with vertical white stripes, while the other men’s suits were solid gray. If the other two were from this Immigration and Naturalization Service, this man was from something different. Did America have a royal family, like Thailand? But no, though the other two seemed to defer to the man, they weren’t deferring the way Thais deferred to the king. What, then? Was he just rich?

Gesturing to the bald man, Nanu said, “Labee, this gentleman is Mr. Frederick Lone. He’s very concerned about your welfare.”

Livia narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “Why?”

“The men from Immigration and Naturalization . . . they think they should send you back to Thailand.”

Livia felt a bolt of fear and nausea. “What about Nason?”

“I understand. But these men don’t know what else to do with you.”

“I won’t go back. Not without Nason.”

“What I’m trying to tell you is, Mr. Lone shares your concerns. You were the only child on the boat. There were two others, but they died en route, apparently from food poisoning. Mr. Lone understands your predicament and wants to help.”