Forgive Me(58)

CHAPTER 30



Angie left her father’s house at 4:30 in the morning. She woke her dad to tell him she was going, and without delay got in her car and drove out of town. She would talk to him about the check registers later, when he was more awake and his memory could be trusted. She drove north instead of east, a long detour on her way to DC because some news had to be delivered in person.

Carolyn Jessup came to her front door dressed in a checkered bathrobe, looking half asleep. Angie had awoken her with a phone call made from Carolyn’s front porch. She made the call so Carolyn wouldn’t have to wait long to find out what Angie had come to share. Carolyn’s hair was tangled, and her eyes, ringed with dark circles, showed the strain of her daughter’s absence.

“We think we’ve found her,” Angie said. “We believe your daughter is alive and in good health.”

Carolyn’s legs buckled as her eyes misted over. Angie grabbed Carolyn’s arm to hold her steady.

Carolyn placed a hand to her chest, her ragged breathing made it difficult to speak. “Where—where is she?”

“Baltimore,” Angie said.

Carolyn let out a sob. “Why? Who is she with?”

“Invite me in. I’ll tell you everything I know.”

Soon they were seated at a kitchen table. Carolyn didn’t offer Angie any tea, not even a glass of water. She only had time to get the facts.

Angie explained to Carolyn how they had followed Nadine’s trail from Union Station to an apartment building in Baltimore. She told her about Mike’s encounter at a bar with a woman he believed knew Nadine.

“Who does she know in Baltimore?” Carolyn asked.

Angie pulled her lips tight. Breaking news usually involved breaking hearts. “You need to brace yourself. We think Nadine is being trafficked for sex.”

Carolyn made an expression Angie had seen on people who had just been shot—horror, shock, sadness, and confusion blended into one.

“She’s just a girl,” Carolyn said, her lower lip trembling. “She’s my baby girl.” Tears. “I need a drink. Excuse me a moment.”

Angie waited at the kitchen table while Carolyn got the vodka from behind the cereal. Who was she hiding it from? Angie wondered. Herself?

Carolyn poured a shot of vodka into a chilled glass she got from the freezer, downed it, and then poured another. “What now?”

“Now we try to get her out of there. Safely.”

“Can’t she just leave?”

“It’s not that easy. Your daughter is very scared.”

“Who has her?”

“We think it’s a Russian named Ivan Markovich. We don’t know the other men involved. We’re working on getting IDs. These are very bad people, Carolyn, I’m not going to lie to you. Your daughter is in danger.”

“Then call the damn police and get her out of there.” Carolyn’s jaw tightened as her eyes turned fierce.

“We already did. My associate Mike has gone to the Baltimore PD and filed a report.”

“And there’s been no action taken?”

“No.”

“Well, why not?”

“Hard to say. These things happen. They did send a cruiser by the apartment, but that’s it. Nobody is storming the castle. It could be that the police have used the service, if you know what I mean, and some detective with the Baltimore PD has an incentive to do nothing.”

Carolyn’s disgusted face said it all. Angie didn’t tell her about the runaway named Elise and the standoff and how that police action turned out. In a way, Angie was glad no action had been taken.

“Look, I know this hard to hear. I do. But Mike gave the woman a phone to give to Nadine. There’s a chance we can coax her out of there, and that’s what we’re going to try and do.”

“But they’re going to hurt her.”

“I don’t think so. They want your daughter healthy so she can . . . can . . . work for them.” Work for them. Angie grimaced at her turn of phrase. What else was she supposed to say? The truth, she supposed, but Carolyn was smart enough to figure out the euphemism all on her own.

“Can you get her out?” Carolyn’s hands were trembling, and the third shot of vodka didn’t quiet the shakes.

“She’s probably rooted. I want to give her some time to think her options over. We believe she has a phone now, and my card.”

“Let me call her or text even.” Carolyn sounded desperate, but Angie was going to hold firm.

“We’re waiting for her to make the first contact.”

“Why?”

“Because we can’t be certain who has the phone. It could be the woman we gave it to, or Nadine, or someone else. What we don’t want is for Nadine to be linked to the phone. It could be dangerous for her. Best to wait and see if she makes first contact. I’m counting on it that she will. We’re going back on stakeout. When she wants out, we’ll be ready to receive her. Meanwhile, we’ll keep putting pressure on the police.”

Carolyn stood, but her legs wouldn’t hold her. She knelt and put her head in Angie’s lap. Her sobs came in waves, her body convulsed in sputters.

Angie stiffened at first. Her job was to hunt, to find, to retrieve. She was a task-oriented person, goal-driven, and so she froze, unsure exactly how to comfort Carolyn in her time of grief. Then, very gingerly at first, but soon with more confidence, Angie stroked the back of Carolyn’s head and shushed her the way her mother had consoled her.