Anybody's Daughter (Angela Evans Series No. 2) (30 page)

I
t took Dre well over an hour in rush-hour traffic to make the drive from the hospital in Northridge to City Stars.

He wasn’t sure exactly what he planned to do when he got there. But in his fantasy, his first move would be to torch the club. Then he’d find every sleazy motel The Shepherd owned and burn them to the ground too. What he wanted most was to find The Shepherd and pound him in the face until his last breath was gone.

It tore Dre up inside that Brianna was so traumatized that she couldn’t even face him. That cut him deep. The doctor’s words were like a sucker punch in the stomach.

“We shouldn’t do anything that could possibly traumatize her any further. Waking up and finding you there
might.”

Dre couldn’t bear to imagine what had happened to Brianna inside that room with Demonic that would force her to leap from a two-story window. As hard as he tried, he could not erase the horrible image of her battered body lying in that alley.

Five minutes after Dre exited the Harbor Freeway on El Segundo and spotted City Stars, he was surprised to see police cars parked up and down the street. The entire block had been cordoned off by a police barricade. Dre parked as close as he could get, then walked over to join the growing crowd of looky-loos. He had trouble seeing much since everybody else was rubbernecking to get a peek at what was happening.

“What’s going on?” Dre asked a pudgy teenager who was holding his smartphone high in the air videotaping the scene.

“They raided the place about an hour ago,” the boy said, excitedly. “The cops have been walking out with boxes and boxes of stuff. I heard they’ve been pimping little girls out of the place.”

The news of the raid did nothing to ease Dre’s anguish over what had happened to Brianna.

A buzz swirled through the crowd as two cops walked out tugging a man in handcuffs.

Dre craned his neck to get a better look. “Who’s that?” Dre asked the teenager with the camera phone.

“That’s The Shepherd,” the boy said. “He owns the place.”

Dre was stunned at the physical stature, or lack thereof, of this pipsqueak. He had not appeared to be such a small man on Skype. Rodney Merriweather couldn’t be any taller than five-five, if that. His hair was closely cropped and he was dressed in khakis. The collar of his Polo shirt was flipped up. He could’ve easily passed for a USC student.

It was hard to believe that this little punk was the man who had destroyed the lives of so many young girls. Dre pushed his way through the crowd.

Just before an officer forced The Shepherd into the backseat of a squad car, Dre cupped his hands around his mouth and called out to him. “Hey, Shep!”

Shep’s head jerked sideways and their eyes met.

“I got some buddies waiting for you in lockup,” Dre said with a taunting smile. “They got an extra-special welcome planned for you.”

Dre turned around and trudged back toward his car. Jail wasn’t good enough. He wanted The Shepherd to feel some pain. When he glanced down the street, he saw Angela leaning against the hood of his car, smiling. He picked up his step.

“How’d you know where to find me?” Dre asked, trying not to smile back at her.

“Wasn’t very hard to imagine where you might go.”

“Did you have anything to do with this?” he asked, angling his head toward the club.

“Yep,” Angela said, not hiding her smugness. “I called my contact with the LAPD’s Human Trafficking Task Force. I passed on everything you told me last night, including all those addresses. They’re executing search warrants right now at every piece of property The Shepherd owns.”

Dre appeared genuinely shocked. “So your call put all of this in motion?”

“Not exactly,” Angela said. “As it turns out, Loretha’s been working with the task force as a confidential informant for well over a year. They were close to busting him, but my call just expedited things a bit. Loretha’s going to be the primary witness against The Shepherd. She’s been granted full immunity from prosecution.”

If he’d had it his way, Dre would’ve preferred to mete out a little street justice. And he wouldn’t have needed Mossy or Apache or anybody else to help him with the job. The pleasure would’ve been all his.

Dre shrugged. “With all the money he’s got, he’ll hire some high-priced lawyer and buy his way out of any jail time. He’ll probably be back on the street snatching girls before Brianna gets out of the hospital.”

“Not this time. They’re bringing in the feds. He’s going to do some serious time. He apparently kept very good records of his Internet operation and he also did a lot of videotaping. Even if the girls are too afraid to testify against him—and I suspect they will be—all the records he kept are going to bury him.”

“I wish I could be the one to bury him.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m here. To keep your hotheaded butt out of trouble.”

Dre smiled. “Thanks. I always wanted another mama.”

“You’re welcome.” Angela grabbed his forearm. “Let’s go. I’m treating you to breakfast at the Serving Spoon. You’re looking kind of skinny. I like my man to have meat on his bones.”

Dre’s chin jutted forward as a smile tickled his lips.
My man
. He liked the sound of that.

“How about lunch instead of breakfast?” He pulled his keys from his pocket. “I have something else I need to take care of.”

“And what’s that?”

He smiled. “You don’t wanna know.”

The playfulness disappeared from Angela’s face and she took a step closer to him.

“Brianna isn’t the only one who’s been through a traumatic experience, Dre. You’ve been through a lot too. I bet you haven’t had eight hours of sleep since she was taken. The best thing for you to do right now is to eat and get some rest.”

“This won’t take long,” Dre said. “I’ll meet you at the Serving Spoon at one.”

“Okay,” Angela said, walking around to the passenger side of his car. “Lunch it is. But wherever you’re going, I’m going too.”

Dre laughed. “Why are you so stubborn?”

Angela cocked her head. “Wow. I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

“Fine,” Dre said, hitting a button on his key ring to open the doors. “Get in. I might as well let you keep me from killing this scum too.”

D
uring their drive to Compton, Dre filled Angela in on the reason they were headed to Maverick Middle School.

“I can’t believe it,” Angela said. “I mean, it’s unbelievable. I just hope you’re right.”

“I
am
right,” Dre said.

They pulled to a stop in the school’s parking lot. Before Dre could turn off the engine, Angela grabbed his arm.

“I know I sound like a broken record,” she began, “but I’m going to try this just one more time. I really think we need to turn this information over to the police and let them handle it.”

Dre’s face grew stern. “We’ll talk to the police
after
I do what I came here to do.”

Angela huffed. “Promise me you’ll go in there, say what you have to say, then leave.”

“Okay.”

“So you’re not going to do anything crazy? You’re going to be nice, right?”

“Yep.” Dre smiled and opened the car door. “As nice as I can possibly be.”

They found their way to the administration office.

“I’m here to see the principal,” Dre said, after signing in.

“Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist asked.

“Nope.”

“I’m sorry, but—”

“Tell Mr. Ortiz that Brianna Walker’s uncle is here and that he definitely wants to see me.”

“He’s in a meeting.”

Dre shrugged. “I don’t give a fuck. Pull him out of his meeting.”

The receptionist backed away, her eyes flashing alarm.

Angela gave him a chiding look. “They’re going to call security on your crazy butt,” she whispered.

“That’s fine. I could probably take three or four of those rent-a-cops all by myself.”

They watched as the receptionist placed a call. She turned her back to them and lowered her voice. Five minutes later, two women walked out of the principal’s office, followed by Ortiz.

“How can I help you?” Ortiz trudged up to the counter, his face strained with a tight smile.

The two women who’d been in the principal’s office hovered nearby. There were five other people in the area, including a student.

“You remember me?” Dre said. “I was here with my sister a couple of days ago to talk about my niece, Brianna.”

“Oh yes, yes,” the principal said. “I understand she’s been found. You must be so relieved.”

“Yep, we are.” Dre struggled to hold his anger in check. “We need to talk in the privacy of your office.”

“About what?”

“About some criminal activity going on at your school related to Brianna’s kidnapping.”

Ortiz’s indulgent demeanor disappeared. “Now isn’t exactly a good time.”

“It’s the perfect time for me,” Dre said. “So we can do it out here in front of all these people or we can go in your office and talk in private. Your choice.”

Ortiz exhaled. “Fine.” He turned to the receptionist. “Please ask Mr. Wainright to join us.”

Dre raised his hand and pointed at one of the women who’d walked out of Ortiz’s office. “Ms. Flanagan, why don’t you join us too?”

Bonnie gave the principal an uncertain look, as if she wasn’t sure she really wanted to be invited in.

Dre, Angela and Bonnie followed Ortiz into his office. Dre and Angela took seats in front of his desk. Bonnie sat at a circular table off to the side.

“And who are you, young lady?” Ortiz said to Angela.

“Angela Evans. “I’m—”

“She’s my lawyer,” Dre interrupted. “We’re thinking about suing the school district.”

Bonnie gasped. Ortiz shifted his roly-poly body in his leather chair.

“Exactly what is this about?” Ortiz asked.

“I’ve uncovered information that someone who works at this school has been feeding information about female students to traffickers who kidnap them and force them into prostitution.”

Bonnie gasped. “Oh my God! I knew you were up to no good.”

Ortiz sat up and started to sputter. “That’s outrageous.”

“No, it’s not,” Dre said. “Brianna was the fourth student to go missing from this school.”

“That’s also untrue,” Ortiz replied. “Those other girls didn’t disappear.”

Dre cracked his knuckles. “Somebody lied. We were told that Leticia Gonzales’ family believed that she’d been taken back to Mexico by her mother. Imani Johnson had supposedly been sent to Birmingham to live with her grandmother. The story we got about Jasmine Smith was that she’d been found living with an older boyfriend and was placed in foster care. None of those stories are true.”

“But that’s what Mr. Wainright told me,” Bonnie said, confused.

“My sister got in contact with the families of each of those girls,” Dre said. “They didn’t back up any of those stories. All three of those families are still grieving over the unexplained disappearances of their daughters.”

“Let’s just get to the bottom of this,” Ortiz said. “Exactly who do you claim is feeding information about our students to traffickers?”

Bonnie pointed a finger across the desk. “Don’t sit there and act like you don’t know.”

There was a quiet tap on the door and Assistant Principal Wainright stepped into the room.

“You wanted me to join you?” he said to Ortiz.

“Get in here,” Bonnie said excitedly. “This is Brianna Walker’s uncle and his attorney. Just wait until you hear what they have to say.”

Wainright remained standing, casually leaning his shoulder against the wall.

“As I was just saying, somebody at this school’s been giving the names of troubled female students to human traffickers,” Dre repeated. “The traffickers then connect with the girls on Facebook, abduct them and force them to work as prostitutes.”

Wainright looked incredulous. “I can assure you, no one connected with this school is doing anything like that.”

Bonnie puckered her lips. “It’s no surprise to me. I’ve been telling you all along something wasn’t right.”

“Let’s stop all this innuendo,” Ortiz said. “Exactly who are you talking about and what evidence do you have to support these claims?”

Dre let the room settle into an uneasy silence.

“Why don’t you tell them about your little side business?” Dre said.

He locked eyes with Ortiz, then slowly turned to Wainright.

“Me?” he blubbered. “How dare you?!”

Ortiz laughed, then rocked back in his chair. “You think
he’s
doing this. You’re nuts. That man’s a saint.”

Bonnie was bouncing in her chair, barely able to contain herself. “You’ve got it wrong.” She pointed at Ortiz. “That’s the sexual predator over there.”

“Both of you are crazy,” Ortiz said, standing up. “Everybody out of my office. Now!”

Dre slowly rose to his feet and so did Angela.

“No problem.” A mock smile rested on Dre’s lips. “We’re running late for our appointment with the LAPD’s Human Trafficking Task Force.” He kept his eyes on Wainright. “Human trafficking is a federal crime. You’re looking at the possibility of life in prison.”

Wainright was now blood red with anger.

“How dare you malign me like this? You have no evidence of these insane allegations. I’m suing you for defamation.”

Bonnie started to speak, but Dre held up a hand, quieting her.

“Hold on a minute.” He pulled his smartphone from the pocket of his jeans and began tapping the screen.

“When you do sue me for defamation, I’ll be using this little piece of evidence in my defense.”

Dre held up the smartphone, showing it first to Bonnie, then to Ortiz. When he turned to Wainright, he shoved it in his face.

“This is a picture of you at the Wyndgate motel on Ventura in the San Fernando Valley. The Wyndgate is one of the motels operated by the traffickers.” Dre turned back to Ortiz. “This picture was taken yesterday around six-thirty.”

Ortiz was speechless.

Dre pointed at the screen. “I have a nice shot of you talking to one of The Shepherd’s henchmen. You
do
know who The Shepherd is, right?” he asked Wainright. “Since you’re his real estate agent, you probably know him by his real name, Rodney Merriweather.”

Wainright’s left hand started to shake like he had Parkinson’s disease.

Ortiz was so flabbergasted, he had to sit back down. “Rich, is this true? If you’ve damaged this school’s reputation, ruining my chance to become Superintendent, I’ll—”

Bonnie threw up her hands. “You arrogant pig!” Bonnie shouted, throwing up her hands. “Did you hear what this man just said? Our girls are being trafficked and you have the nerve to be worried about a darn job?”

Ortiz swept a strand of his thinning hair off his forehead. “Oh, well, I uh…I…of course I’m concerned about the girls.”

Dre could only shake his head. He turned back to Wainright.

“It won’t be hard for the cops to gather more evidence against you. I suspect all they have to do is check your phone records and computer. It took me a little while to figure out how you did it. But when I checked Brianna’s Facebook account, I saw that you were one of her Facebook friends. That’s how The Shepherd got the Facebook names of Brianna, Leticia Gonzales, Imani Johnson, Jasmine Smith and no telling how many others. You friended them and helped The Shepherd target them for his Jaden scam.”

Wainright started to hyperventilate. “You’ve absolutely lost your mind!”

“And in case you hadn’t heard, The Shepherd was arrested this morning. Little punks like him tend to fold fast. He’s probably in an interrogation room right now, crying like a baby and pointing the finger at you.”

“This is ludicrous!” Wainright tugged at his tie. His armpits were soaked with perspiration and beads of sweat dotted his forehead.

“Wait a minute,” Ortiz said, pointing up at Wainright. “You told me you spoke to the families of each of those girls and found out that they weren’t victims of foul play.”

“That’s also what he told me,” Bonnie said.

“He lied to my sister and to both of you,” Dre said. “He did that because he wanted Bonnie to stop making a stink about those missing girls. He couldn’t risk anyone drawing a link between them. But the truth is, they’re all still missing. No telling where The Shepherd has shipped them off to.”

Wainright was gasping like somebody had stuffed a vacuum cleaner hose down his throat.

“So how’d you take your cut?” Dre asked. “Did The Shepherd give you a finder’s fee for every girl you referred? Or are you partners with him in his operation?”

Bonnie nearly fell out of her chair.

“You’re a disgrace,” Bonnie screamed. “I wish they could bring back the electric chair just for you.”

Wainright tried to collect himself. “This…this…is insane.”

“Yes, it is,” Dre continued. “See, you messed up when you targeted Brianna. She didn’t have a father, but she had me. The other girls’ families didn’t know what to do when they disappeared. I’m a reformed criminal. It takes a criminal to know a criminal.”

Dre moved toward the door, his eyes still on Wainright.

“I had actually planned to come in here and beat you down, but my lawyer here made me promise to be nice. And luckily for you, I’m going to follow her instructions.”

Angela responded with a relieved smile.

Dre reached for the doorknob, pivoted, then coldcocked Wainright so hard, his head went flying into the nearby file cabinet. The force of the collision sent teeth and blood exploding from his mouth.

“Oooooowww,” Wainright wailed. “You broke my jaw!” He shrank to the floor, cupping his jaw with one hand.

Bonnie and Ortiz gasped in unison.

Angela grabbed Dre’s arm and tugged him out of the office.

“I know I said I’d behave,” Dre said, smiling like a remorseful child. “But I couldn’t help it. So you mad?”

“Yep.” Angela smiled right back at him. “I’m mad because you didn’t take an extra swing for me.”