Profile of Fear: Book Four of the Profile Series (Volume 4) (18 page)

“He’d have to be pretty stupid to try to abduct Becca from a family of law enforcement officers,” Cameron added.

A frown slipped across Brody’s face. “No one said that criminals are smart. But we don’t know who’s working for him, so we need to look out for more people than Juan Ortiz. He’s known to hire others to do his dirty work.”

Brody turned to Robynn. “Can you give me an update on information the state police have about Ortiz?”

“Yes. State police have launched an undercover investigation into sex trafficking operations within Indiana. We’ve discovered that Juan Ortiz is the leader of a group of men running prostitutes throughout the state.”

“How is he supplying the women? I know there are different methods, different cons, or outright abduction.” Carly wanted to know.

“Although many girls are runaways picked up at bus stations, most of their female victims are recruited through online modeling ads, where they are promised high-paying, glamorous jobs. Our criminal investigation field office in Indy has a long list of missing women they believe were abducted as a result of answering these ads.”

“How does this connect to Juan Ortiz?”

“We’ve received intelligence that indicates Ortiz is in the Midwest and is trafficking girls for exotic dancing, prostitution, and forced domestic labor as nannies, maids, janitors, and restaurant dishwashers. He is also known to sell girls to the highest bidder so they can be personal sex slaves. Under a variety of names, Ortiz owns eight Last Stop Cantina restaurants throughout the Midwest. Three are in Indiana: Indianapolis, Lafayette, and Bloomington. There are rumors that a Last Stop Cantina will be built somewhere in Shawnee County. The girls who are illegal immigrants are forced to work in these restaurants for little or no pay.”

Brody interrupted. “The three places you mentioned are college towns. Does that mean Ortiz is targeting coeds?”

“It’s possible. His depravity also extends to targeting females as young as twelve or thirteen. Once the girls are in his custody, they are advertised in prostitution chat rooms and transported throughout the Midwest, and are housed in rented or leased homes in middle-class neighborhoods. Most, if not all of the victims, are threatened, beaten, and raped. All of the women are told their families or children will be harmed or murdered if they try to escape, or tell anyone about their situation. Two of his victims last month
did
escape one of these homes. We have them in safe houses in return for their testimony once Ortiz is captured.”

With his elbows on the table, Cameron leaned toward her. “The modeling con. Is that the only scheme he is using to recruit?”

Robynn opened a file folder and withdrew some papers. “One of our informants says that Ortiz and his minions actively recruit female prisoners from the Rockville Correctional Facility for Women, promising them high-paying jobs when they get out. Upon their release, Ortiz’s thugs transport the women to one of his homes, where the windows are barred and they are repeatedly beaten and provided drugs like meth, heroin, and cocaine to keep them in line. They are not allowed to leave the house unless accompanied by one of Ortiz’s men.”

Brody pushed back in his chair. “I’m still not understanding why Ortiz would want to set up operations in Shawnee County. We’re a rural community, for God’s sake.”

Carly glanced briefly at Robynn and then said, “Brody, you’ve got to change your ‘not in my backyard’ attitude because it’s just what traffickers are counting on.”

“Carly’s right. Traffickers are moving their businesses to unsuspecting rural communities. They don’t necessarily want to work in big cities. They’re drawn to small towns because they think they won’t get caught,” Robynn added.

“If their focus is Shawnee County, they better rethink their damn plan,” Brody growled.

Robynn continued, “Traffickers like rural areas because when homes are spread apart, it’s harder for victims to escape. It may be miles until they reach safety or the closest residence. Even with a head start, the traffickers have a good chance of finding them.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“No. Lack of job opportunities may make women more vulnerable to traffickers because they don’t have the means to support themselves.”

“And then there are truck stops,” added Carly. “Rural areas are loaded with truck stops, which aren’t so prevalent in the city. Truck stops are lucrative for traffickers to sell sex to travelers or lonely truckers, with minimal concerns about detection. A truck stop can be an easy place for a trafficker to sell victims night-after-night to a new group of customers.”

“So the general thinking is that Ortiz is here to set up another trafficking operation?” Brody asked the group.

Cameron took just a second to respond. “I think he’s already here, and his people are working his cons this very second. I also think he is very motivated to find Becca. But I don’t know why. He’s a monster, not a parent. But there is some reason he is desperate to find her. Becca’s safety is my top concern, and I won’t rest until I find him and learn what that reason is.”

Chapter Thirty-eight

The woman sitting in a visitor chair across from Gabe’s desk looked like she’d rather be getting a root canal than telling a stranger her personal business. Annoyance lined her face, but distress flickered in her eyes. Camilla Essick looked bone-tired, the kind of fatigue that comes from stress overload and too many sleepless nights.

Gabe poured some hot coffee into a mug and handed it to her. “Let’s start by telling me why you want to hire a private investigator.”

“It doesn’t seem like I have much choice. The police aren’t doing a damn thing. All they’re good for is telling me that sometimes kids run away. Well, my Lea didn’t run away. I would know. The problem is they don’t believe me.”

“Are you telling me your daughter, Lea, is missing?”

“Yes. I reported her missing to the police two weeks ago.”

Gabe made a mental note to talk to Cameron about this girl’s disappearance. “How old is Lea?”

“She’s seventeen.”

“Has she run away from home in the past?”

Camilla shifted in her chair. “Twice. But that was a long time ago.” She paused while he jotted down the information. When he looked up, she’d leaned toward him, her dark eyes imploring him. “You’ve got to believe me. She did
not
run away this time.”

Gabe gave her a brief nod and poured them both another cup of coffee. He’d learned long ago that parents rarely thought their kids ran away from home, but sometimes they did. For whatever the reason, the son or daughter came to believe that taking flight was a whole lot better than staying in what they perceived to be a bad situation. “When was the last time you saw Lea?”

“Two weeks ago on a Saturday night. I was sitting on her bed and talking to her while she got ready for work. She’d gotten her first part-time job working at the Sycamore Mall in one of those cell phone kiosks. She didn’t want to be late, so she rushed out the door and I followed her to her car. We had plans to go out for pizza after the mall closed.” The woman teared up. “We had plans.”

“I see. Do you have a photo of Lea?”

Camilla pulled a leather wallet from her purse, found a photo and slid it across the desk to him. “This is her senior picture. It was taken a couple of months ago.”

Gabe scanned the photograph. Lea Essick looked older than seventeen, with dark waves framing her full square face. Her cheekbones were high, her mouth wide and well-shaped. She wasn’t a knockout, but close enough to have her male classmates burning up her cell phone. He held the photo up between two fingers. “May I keep this?” When Camilla nodded, he continued. “I need to know more about your daughter. Does she drink, smoke, or do drugs? Who is she dating? Who are her best friends? Are there any co-workers that she’s mentioned?”

Camilla pursed her lips as if offended and shot Gabe a glare. “My daughter does
not
drink or smoke, nor does she do drugs of any type.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Essick, if I seem rude. I need to ask these questions so I have a better chance of finding Lea.”

“She doesn’t have many friends, but she’s been dating a young man named Rick Foster. I know his parents from the country club. Nice people. As for co-workers at the mall, she sometimes talks about Teri Tanner. I think Teri went to Lea’s school, graduated last year.”

“That helps. You said before that Lea had run away twice before. Why?”

“Why is that important? I already told you that she didn’t run away this time.”

“It’s helpful to understand why she ran away the other times.”

Temper flashed in Camilla’s eyes, coloring her cheeks. “Her father died. Lea had problems at school. We argued a lot. She took off. I found her. Satisfied? My daughter has grown up a lot since then, saw a therapist, and got her act together. And for the last time, she didn’t run away. Are you taking my case or not?”

Gabe pressed back in his chair, a memory sizzling in his brain. He remembered when he learned that Kaitlyn had been abducted by a pair of sociopaths who would think nothing of killing her for fun. His gut kicked at the memory, and he remembered feeling panic and fear like he’d never known. The same emotions Camilla Essick must be experiencing.

“I’ll take the case. I’ll look for your daughter.” Opening a desk drawer, he pulled out a form that he gave to Camilla. “This form contains a series of questions that will help me find your daughter. The questions run the gamut from a full physical description to Lea’s bank account and credit card numbers. You need to answer the questions as truthfully as possible if you want us to have any chance of finding her.”

Chapter Thirty-nine

Gabe pushed his way through the doors of the Sycamore Mall, noting a dome-shaped security camera above him as he entered. If he had his way, metal detectors, armed guards, and bag screenings would be commonplace at shopping malls. Undoubtedly, mall owners wouldn’t agree. Anything that might discourage shoppers from heading to the mall was a definite no-no in their world of economic survival.

Walking into the mall brought back memories. What was it about a tragedy that cements the date and event in your mind for a lifetime? Gabe remembered exactly where he was and what he was doing on January 25, 2014, when 19-year-old Darion Marcus Aguilar entered a Zumiez store in the Columbia Town Center Mall in Maryland on the second floor. Armed with a Mossberg 500 12-gauge shotgun with a pistol grip, he fired six to nine shots, killing two employees—21-year-old Brianna Benlolo and 25-year-old Tyler Johnson—and injuring five others before committing suicide.

Aguilar wasn’t the first mall shooter nor would he be the last, a fact that filled Gabe with apprehension whenever he or Kaitlyn visited a shopping mall. With several entrances, multiple parking levels and lots, plus the networks of corridors, the very design of a mall provides an attacker with endless prospects for cover. Soft targets. That’s how security experts referred to retail malls. You’ve got groups of people coming into and leaving the building through numerous exits, making it easy for an attacker to enter and exit quickly. It also made shoppers vulnerable, at risk.

From the main entrance of the mall, Gabe made his way toward the cell phone kiosk on the second floor where Lea Essick was last seen. Stepping onto the escalator, he climbed the steps, brushing past shoppers who were taking in the bright store lights and bustling crowd below. Glancing at his watch, Gabe hurried past the food court until he saw the cell phone kiosk. He waited as a young woman with a shock of spiky, dark red hair took care of a customer. After she finished up, he moved toward her.

“Teri Tanner?”

The girl looked down at her name tag then at Gabe and smiled. “Yes, sir. What kind of a cell phone can I show you?”

“I’m Gabe Chase. I called you yesterday about Lea Essick.”

“Sure, I remember.” She bent over the counter to talk to a kid unloading a box of cell phones. “Ely, I need to take a break. Can you take over for a while?”

She joined Gabe, looking him over, and not in a professional way. “You’re sure not what I expected. I thought all P.I.s smoked a cigar, had a pot belly, and gruff voice. Like in the movies. You’re sure not what I expected. You’re hot.”

She flashed him her sexiest smile. In the past, he might have toyed with her attraction to him to get information from her. It was different now. He’d become a one-woman man since he’d fallen in love with Kaitlyn. Flirting with anyone but her was no longer in his repertoire. He cleared his throat. “I appreciate your taking the time to talk about Lea. Since you’re on break, how about a coffee? I saw a Starbucks in the food court.”

“That’s perfect. I haven’t had my caffeine fix today.”

As they stood in the Starbucks line, Gabe listened as Teri chatted about working in the mall at the kiosk. The barista at the counter seemed to know Teri and chatted with her, while whipping up her chocolate-drizzled whipped mocha.

Gabe found a small table in a section of the food court that was probably going to be as private as it got near the busy coffee shop. As he waited for Teri to get settled, his gaze bounced from couples leaning towards each other at the chic bistro tables to the laughing groups of teenagers lining up at the restaurant booths. Sipping his hot coffee, he swept his attention back to Teri.

Gabe pulled a small notepad from his jacket, along with an ink pen. “How long have you known Lea Essick?”

“Gosh, I guess about two years. We went to the same school. Like I told that cop, I knew her well enough to say ‘hi’ in the hall between classes. But I got to know her better when I got this job at the kiosk.”

“Did the police question you about Lea?”

“Yes, last week sometime. He really didn’t act as interested as you’d think he’d be about someone who was missing. He mentioned that Lea may have run away.”

“What kind of person is Lea?”

“She’s great. Easy to talk to and all that.”

“Was she happy? Did she share any problems she might be having?”