Devil in Disguise (19 page)

“Wow. How old was the boy?” Rachel was stunned at what she was hearing.

“Twelve. A buyer had seen his picture on Chatspace. He’d been drugged to sleep through the flight, but it was delayed long enough that he finally woke up.”

A chill ran the length of Rachel’s spine. She’d give anything to rewind the clock so she could prevent her own sister from ever
having posted a picture on that website.

“Is the boy okay?” Conrad asked.

“He will be. Physically, he’s fine. He’s back with his parents,
though they’ve relocated as a safety precaution,” Vance told them.

“Do you guys ever get discouraged? I mean, do you ever think maybe this thing is too big to fight? It feels like they’re everywhere.” Rachel often broke a story and then moved on to the next. She wondered how hard it must be to stand and chip away at the same iceberg every single day, knowing you weren’t even making a dent
in its tip.

“Sometimes it feels a little futile,” Veronica admitted. “But then I
look at the ones we have saved. All our efforts might seem small when you look at the big picture, but they’re worth everything to the one person we just set free. So we keep going because we know
there’s one more out there, waiting to be rescued.”

“Besides, once you see this thing, once you know what they’re doing to our babies, how do you go back to normal?” Rick lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug, his gesture belying the sheen that had
formed in his eyes.

“I know what you mean.” Rachel thought of her own sister. “My whole world was about my career until they took my sister. Now my career is the farthest thing from my mind. It definitely gave me a radical change of perspective.”

Rick looked Rachel dead in the eye. “I can’t promise that after this mission you’ll have your life back. These guys are big, and they’re organized. You might always have to look over your shoulder. But we can hopefully slow these guys down. Atlanta is a
major hub – human beings are brought in from North Korea like they’re cattle, girls are
shipped over from Eastern Bloc countries because johns here think they’re exotic, our own children as young as eight are shipped out of the country in droves, headed for some other country’s red light
district. If we can cripple their ability to move victims freely through this town, then that’s a dent.”

“We already struck one blow in Atlanta when we took out one of the major players,” Veronica added. “Now the cartel that took Julia is trying to step in to fill the power vacuum left when the Kulenović operation fell.”

Vance sat up a little straighter in his chair. “If we move now, before they’ve fortified themselves, we have a good chance to deliver a crippling blow. Then maybe we can get the attention of enough people that laws will start to change and parents will start to think
about what information they’re sharing and how. And we haven’t even begun to look at the foster care system. Those kids deserve so much more than where they’ll end up when they fall through the cracks.”

Vance’s voice took on a different tenor as he spoke of the foster children lost to the black hole of human trafficking. Rachel didn’t miss the calming hand Harmony placed on his arm. It made the reporter in her wonder what she didn’t know about his story.
Thoughts of Vance tickled the back of her brain as she drifted off to sleep that night. There was something about his quiet strength that made Rachel want to peel back the layers to get at the heart of that story.

RACHEL HAD BEEN UNDERCOVER BEFORE,
but she’d never been as terrified as she was walking into the upscale office building in the heart of Atlanta. Her stomach fluttered with so many nerves, she was moderately concerned she’d throw up on someone or pass out before the hour was over. She was also fairly certain she’d sweat right through the makeup Veronica had applied to change Rachel from the face America knew and loved to that of a rather hard, if not plain, businesswoman in town for the purpose of buying people.

Rick had supplied her with credentials to get her through the door. Vance had coached her for days on how to behave during the
meeting. Conrad had given them all a character profile on the players he’d known and worked with in Atlantic City.

Harmony was absent, having already been inserted into her role.
Rachel hadn’t been comfortable with that portion of the plan. Now that Rachel knew Harmony, it downright horrified her to know the girl was once again walking the streets undercover in hopes of
picking up the
chatter that wouldn’t make it to the Internet. Most sales of girls
happened online, but certain information could still only be picked up by being on the street and keeping one’s ears open.

Still, now that she was sitting across from an actual trafficker, a
man who made a living torturing and selling other human beings, Rachel could only think about one thing: playing her role without blacking out in terror. She prayed her bubbling emotions wouldn’t show as she recited her lines to the salesman, letting him know she was looking
for a girl who could not only keep an orderly house but also take care of her husband’s peculiar tastes.

“I honestly just don’t have the time or patience for either.”
Rachel held her hands up in a helpless gesture. “I can’t tell you how happy I was when Marissa referred you to me.”

“Marissa is a valued customer. I can assure you her trust is well-
placed; you’ll be pleased with the range of product we have to offer.” The wiry man with immaculate hair and hygiene held out a
catalog of children as if they were carpet swatches.

Outwardly, Rachel arched a disdainful eyebrow and flipped through the pages organized by age, gender, and coloring. Inwardly,
she swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat and said a silent prayer that the camera embedded in her contact lenses would
capture the images she was seeing.

“Beautiful catalog. How do you get such candid shots?” Rachel
ran her fingers over the image of a little girl who looked much like Julia had not so very long ago. Luminous brown eyes looked back at
the
camera, and a smile lit up the girl’s face as she ran through a
sprinkler in her two-piece swimsuit, obviously enjoying the summer sunshine in her own front yard.

“Chatspace,” he answered matter-of-factly, looking down at the
picture Rachel had paused over. “That one is a fine selection. Very exotic-looking, but she’s right here in Georgia. Since transport won’t be high, we could deliver her to your door with papers for fifty
thousand.”

“With papers?”

“You’ll be able to prove she’s yours and take her anywhere you want around the globe.”

“Impressive,” Rachel murmured, flipping through several more pages. “Do you have anything older than these for sale?”

“Most of our clients prefer to choose from this catalog. The trend is definitely for youth.” The man pulled another full-color glossy book from his desk. “But we do have another catalog. They cost a little more; there is more involved, and the product can be a bit more
difficult to handle.”

Rachel pretended to think. “I want something with red hair. About 17. Brown eyes. No freckling, though.” She wrinkled her nose in disdain, glad for the layers of makeup that covered her own smattering of freckles.

“I’m afraid we don’t have anything like that on the shelf.”

“Are you saying you’re unable to deliver?”

“Not at all,” he promised smoothly. “Let me make a few calls. I would imagine we’ll be able to make delivery within the week, for the right price.”

“You have my contact information.” Rachel rose, giddy with relief that she was in the home stretch of her performance.

“I’ll be in touch,” he promised again, rising as she did.

As Rachel slid into the sterling gray Town Car waiting for her at the curb, she felt it had almost been too easy. She made the mistake of muttering as much under her breath as she leaned back in the seat, closing her eyes and letting the tension ebb from her body.

In the driver’s seat, Rick harrumphed. “Easy? Do you have any idea how many hours I put into building your front? How many hours it took to even get you through that door?”  He sounded only halfway kidding.

“It’s so hard to get good help these days.” Rachel gave a weary but playful grin and waved her hand dismissively. “Home, Jeeves.”

“Call me Jeeves again and you’re walking.”

“That would blow the cover,” she reminded him.

He opened his mouth to retort, then shook his head and
muttered
“Jeeves” under his breath instead. Rachel chuckled, earning a look
that was a mix between amusement and irritation.

“Did I do okay?” she asked, leaning back against the seat.

“You did well,” Rick acknowledged. “Ronnie is tracking their
movement online and any phone calls. The second you left, they put
the word out to some of the street gangs that there’s a special order to fill. Vance is watching Harmony in case they make a move to grab her.”

“But he won’t let them actually take her, right?”

“Ideally, we catch them in the act.”

“Ideally,” Rachel repeated, closing her eyes again. If the order she put in wound up causing Harmony pain, she’d never forgive herself.

Rick dropped her off at the Four Seasons. She went straight to the room that had been booked as part of her cover, not stopping
until she
could kneel before the immaculate toilet to lose her breakfast. She was alone in the room. Conrad was still with Rick and Veronica at the house on Carroll Street. Harmony was on the streets doing God-
knows-what in the name of saving unknown children from slave traders.

It hit her like a tidal wave: her little sister had been in the
clutches of these monsters. Julia had been a picture in a glossy catalog. Some creep out there had pointed to a picture of Julia Phelps and said, “That’s the one.” And because he’d uttered those words, Julia’s life would never be the same. Rachel’s stomach took another vicious
turn. She clutched at her mid-section and curled up on the floor, not bothering to take off her makeup, even though it weighed heavy on her skin. She wanted to claw it away from her face but couldn’t
muster the will to do anything other than lie there in sickened shock.

Most sales of children happened online. Transactions like the one she’d initiated were the minority, yet they obviously happened
enough
to warrant a swank office in the upscale part of town. It put into perspective how many people exchanged hands via Internet transactions. Rick mentioned that local street gangs had been pulled
into the mix to fill Rachel’s order, and that scared her. If they were able to actually capture Harmony, there was nothing to stop them from abusing her horrifically before delivering her to the larger conglomerate.

Rachel wished Conrad were there. She understood why he
wasn’t,
and she knew she was an independent and strong woman, capable of pulling herself off the bathroom floor, but that didn’t stop her
from wishing he was there to wrap his arms around her.

Eventually, Rachel picked herself up and began the long process of transforming back into herself. She began to feel human again once she had removed all of the makeup, brushed her teeth a lot, and soaked in a hot bubble bath until her skin wrinkled. She wrapped herself in a robe and set about looking for some stationery so she could write to Julia. All Internet communication was traceable, but surely someone could deliver a letter for her.

When her search turned up empty, she called down to the front desk to see if they could bring her something. After convincing the
gentleman on the other end of the phone that she understood the room had WiFi and that she still wished for a pen and paper to write an actual letter, she was assured someone would deliver her request
to the room.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a tap at the door. When she checked the peephole to see who it was, it took all of her willpower not to fling the door open and throw herself into his arms right then
and there.

“Your stationery.” Conrad bowed slightly, holding the pen and paper set out to her.

“Thank you.” Rachel bit back a smile, wondering just what he was up to and why he was dressed in all white.

“I was on my way up for your massage and offered to save some poor gentleman the trip.”

“Ah. You’re my masseuse. Please, do come in.”

As soon as the door was closed behind them, he gathered her into his arms, his embrace sheltering her from all the dark emotions
swirling around her since she’d stepped into that office. “Veronica said she remembered what it was like to be in your shoes. She thought you could probably use some company for a little while.”

“God bless her.”

“Rick said to tell you not to fall in love with the guy you’re supposed to be bringing down, but I think that was more intended
to harass Ronnie, because she threw a shoe at him when he said it.”

“Maybe we’ll just leave that one alone.” Rachel couldn’t fathom who would fall in love with a human trafficker.

“I’m okay with that decision.”

“I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am that you’re here. I kept telling myself that I’m a strong woman, and that I don’t need a man, but I just wanted to curl up in your arms and make it all go away.”

“You are a strong woman, and you don’t need a man. But I’m not just any man – I’m your husband. And just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should have to.” Even as he spoke, he lifted her in his arms, carrying her over to the bed and placing her gently in the middle of it.

He kicked off his shoes before climbing on the bed with her and
pulling her to his side. He wrapped her in the protective cocoon of his embrace, stroking her hair and listening while she purged all of
the feelings thrashing around inside her.