Keep Her Safe(132)

After a moment, Betsy—Mandy—nods. “Go ahead.”

“In April of 2003, Wilkes and his partner went to an Austin area hotel on a prostitution call. Abraham recognized the girl in the room. Were you that girl?”

“Yes.” A frown flickers over Betsy’s face. “It’d been years since Abe saw me last. Still, I saw it in his eyes, the moment it clicked.”

“Do you know the man you were with?”

She shakes her head. “My . . . handler drove me out to this quiet hotel. It was nicer than the ones I’d usually end up in. He gave me the room number, and I went in.”

“Do you remember any names?”

“No, but it was probably John, or Don. Or Bill.” She chuckles. “None of them give their real names.”

Agent Tareen is jotting down notes on a pad of paper while Klein questions. “What do you remember about that night?”

“Enough,” she says quietly. “We heard a knock on the door about twenty minutes after I got there. The man checked the peephole and then he panicked, and started the shower right away. He told me to get in the bathroom. So I did.”

“And then he answered the door?”

She shakes her head. “No. The bathroom door was open a crack, and I heard him talking on the phone, telling someone that there were cops at the door, and to get them off his back right away. Then he answered the door.”

Noah and I share a look. He must have called Jackie. “And you didn’t hear him say any names on the phone?”

She shakes her head. “We’d done a line of coke ten minutes before. I was trying to keep it together, and I was scared I was going to get busted. I heard the cops saying that someone from the hotel reported suspected prostitution with an underage girl in the room. He denied it. One of the cops kept saying, ‘Sorry to bother you, sir,’ and ‘It was definitely a mistake, sir,’ but the other insisted to see my ID and for me to come to the door. That’s when he told them I was in the bathroom and they’d have to wait a few minutes and allow me the privacy of closing the door so I could get dressed.

“He came and got me. Made me drink a lot of water, hoping that would clear my head. He reminded me what to say—that we were on a date and to deny anything else.”

“Did it seem like he was stalling?”

“Yeah, definitely. He kept checking his watch. Finally the cops started pounding on the door, demanding he open it. He made me get my ID. He asked how old it said I was.”

“How old were you?”

She swallows hard. “I’d just turned fifteen.”

“And do you think he knew you were that young?”

She twists her lips. “The guys that like young girls . . . you can tell. Besides, whoever he was on the phone with, he told them I was underage.”

The sleazy bastard knew alright.

“And his ID?”

“He hid it in the inside pocket of his messenger bag.” She frowns. “But they weren’t asking for his. It seemed like they already knew who he was.”

I share a glance with Noah, to see he’s realized the same thing—Dunn lied to us.

“He told me to hang back while he dealt with the cops. But the one cop insisted that if I didn’t come to the door, they’d arrest us both. So I came. I didn’t recognize Abe at first, but I was scared all the same. I didn’t want to get in trouble with Damien. That was my . . . well, I guess you could say he owned me,” she adds quietly.

“And then what happened?”

“Another cop showed up then—a woman—and told them she’d take over. The one cop took off fast, like he didn’t want to be within a hundred miles of that doorstep. But Abe started to argue with her. My client made me go back inside while he talked to her and then she left, too. The guy threw cash on the table and told me to go. So, I met my driver by one of the side doors. Ricky. That was his name. He was waiting in the parking lot. He saw the cop cars coming in, and grilled me a bit about it after.”

“And that was it?”

She shakes her head. “A cop tailed us out of the parking lot. It was the female cop. She followed us all the way to the motel I was staying at. Somehow Ricky didn’t notice.”

“Do you remember what she looked like?” Noah asks, too calmly.

“Pretty. Short blonde hair and these piercing blue eyes.” Betsy stares at Noah for a long moment before averting her gaze. I can’t tell if she’s made the connection. “She came to the room we were staying in, and told Damien to get me out of town right away or we’d both end up in jail. And then she left.”

Noah’s hand tenses on my knee.

“Damien was furious. He thought I was working with the police, which didn’t make much sense, but he was a paranoid guy. He beat me real bad that night, and then threw me into the back of his car and took me to Houston.”

“Did you ever see Abraham Wilkes again?” Klein asks.

She shakes her head. “Give me a sec?” She disappears through a door on the other side of the kitchen, the glimpse of a heavy wooden desk telling me it’s an office. A moment later, she returns and lays a business card down on the counter, the edges worn and torn, looking like it had been folded and crumpled a hundred times.

“Abe left me at that hotel that night and I convinced myself it was because he didn’t care what happened to me, just like everyone else. But one day, months later, I crossed paths with a girl I knew and she handed that to me. She said the cop had been going around, showing people my picture and passing out his card. She didn’t tell him that she knew me, but she held on to it in the chance she’d see me again. In that world, you never were sure if you’d see someone again.” She smiles sadly. “I’ve held on to that card all these years, to remind myself that even in my darkest days, someone did care.”