The Camp (14 page)

She opened the bag, relieved that the ash was still dry, and began to apply it to her body from head to toe. Now for the scary part. Staying low, she crept to the first cabin. Standing on tiptoe, she peaked inside. Nothing. No cots or bunks and certainly no boys. She made her way to the next cabin. Same thing.
 

Ellen froze at a sound in the brush on her right. She held her breath. Nothing. Staying low, she made her way from tree to tree until she reached what looked like a small barn. That’s when she first heard it. Whatever it was, it wasn’t an animal. She followed the side of the barn, but there were no windows. Throwing caution to the wind, she rapped on the wood and the sound grew louder. But now she could hear crying.

“Who’s there? Who are you?”

More crying.

Forgetting herself, she walked along the side of the barn, intent on finding the doors. The sound of an approaching vehicle stopped her. A van was driving up the dirt road with its headlights off.

Suddenly, she was jerked back and around the corner by a hand around her waist. Another hand was placed over her mouth. When she opened her eyes, she was on her back and her captor had a knee on her stomach. Keeping a hand over her mouth, he pressed the index finger of the other against his lips. She nodded.

She watched as the stranger stepped away from her and crawled on his belly to the corner of the barn. He was a boy, and didn’t look much older then she was. Then he scooted backwards next to her and sat with his back braced against the barn.

He seemed to be staring at her chest and she was reminded that she was in her underwear. His hand reached around the back of her head and she felt helpless to resist. He slowly moved his lips against her ear and whispered. “What is this stuff?”

When his hand retracted, he held it up close enough that she could see the smear of black. She leaned forward and whispered back. “Crisco and ashes.” He just nodded.

They sat huddled together until the sound of tires on gravel and dirt alerted them that the van had driven away.

“Who are you?” the boy asked. “How did you get here?”

She crossed her arms across her chest. “I’m from Camp Hiouchi. This was supposed to be the boy’s camp. But there’s nobody here.”

He shook his head. “Wrong.” Then he motioned for her to follow.

An aging conifer was leaning steeply against the back of the barn. With some effort, the boy jumped up and grabbed the first branch, then reached down to pull her up.

She ignored the scraping on the inside of her thighs as she clamped her legs around the tree to keep from falling. Like a monkey, he climbed hand and foot onto the roof, then turned and waved her up. With all her courage, she shimmied up until she could once again take his hand. He was looking down at the roof. She came up next to him and saw that he was staring between two shingles at the room below, and bent down to take a look for herself.

Ellen stifled a gasp and sat upright, nearly losing her balance. Then bending over, she looked again. She counted ten shadows, images that were milling around, and somehow she knew they were girls. Suddenly, she felt the tension of his grip on her shoulder. He was pushing her flat. The van was coming back.

Creeping like a snake, the boy moved up to the peak of the roof and watched a woman get out of the passenger side. The driver was the third man he’d seen on the raft. He looked back and waved to the girl, but she just shook her head.

Ellen was terrified. Her little stunt was coming apart. Something really bad was going on and she didn’t want to know about it. She had to tell someone. But whom could she trust?

The boy seemed to be waiting for something. Watching. Then he was waving her to go back, mouthing it with his lips.
 

By the time she dropped down from the last tree branch, her hands were raw and her thighs and ankles bloody. She waited and watched, but he didn’t follow. Then slowly, like a snowflake, a small card floated down. It was a business card. Silently, she made her way back to the river. Holding the card in her teeth she quietly dog paddled to the opposite shore and retraced her route to the kitchen.

The next day was warm, but Ellen wore long pants and kept her hands in her pockets as she walked around the facility. During her free time, she pulled the card from her bra and turned it over several times, not sure of what to make of it. On one side was the name ‘Paul Casey,’ and below the name were the two words ‘Private Investigator.’ The backside had two phone numbers. Was her mystery man a PI? Did he want her to call him? She tucked it away, not sure what to do.

Another camper delivered a note to her. Ellen’s heart sank and she could feel herself breaking out in a cold sweat. The note simply read that she should report to Mrs. Johnson’s office upon reading it. The young messenger girl didn’t dash off like the last time, but stood around watching her read the note. “I’m supposed to escort you to administration.”
 

When Ellen entered the hall, the coffee machine was empty. At first, she figured that Jane must have taken a day off from caffeine, but she smelled the acid brew even before she entered the office. Jane sat with her fingers in steeple fashion, her chin resting on her fingertips, and her steaming coffee cup on the desk between her elbows. She looked up, only moving her eyes.
 

“Please sit. I’ve been looking over your counselor’s notes, as well as those of the kitchen staff. I believe you’ve earned the right to work at the Little Country Store. We have a contract with them that mandates that we provide them with one employee each year. You’ve been chosen.”

Ellen couldn’t speak. Just when she was convinced that the entire camp staff was involved in some kind of kidnapping scheme, she was being rewarded for her conduct.

Jane produced a tight-lipped smile. “I can understand your surprise. But I cannot stress enough that this position may be revoked at any time, for even the slightest break of protocol. But it is still your choice. Today you will be taken into town and walked through the job duties. If you decide the position is not for you, there’ll be no shame. Your ride leaves in fifteen minutes and will bring you back for the evening meal. Tonight, you’ll eat at my table.”

Chapter Twenty-one

The blues rift sounded muffled until Paul pulled his cell phone from his inside coat pocket. He looked sheepishly at Rye and Claire. “Sorry.” He glanced at the screen for caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Paul, this is the girl from last night.”

Overhearing, Rye raised his eyebrows and smirked.

“Who is this?”

“Ellen Stulov. Camp Hiouchi. Last night across the river, the girls in the barn, don’t you remember?”

Before he could respond, the call ended.
 

Claire excused herself and went down the hall.

“Elaine Stuloft?”

Paul looked at his friend. “Stulov, Ellen Stulov.”

He pulled a pen from his shirt pocket and wrote the message. Then read it out loud. “Paul, this is the girl from last night. Ellen Stulov. Camp Hiouchi. Last night across the river, the girls in the barn.” He looked up at Rye and shook his head. “I haven’t got a clue who that was or what she was talking about.”

Claire walked back in the room. “I think I can shed some light on the conversation. The last name is familiar, although I can’t place it. But I looked up Hiouchi. It’s a camp for troubled teens and guess where it’s located? Just outside Agness. That would mean she was talking about the Rogue River. But as for the girls in the barn...” She shrugged her shoulders.

Paul had been punching numbers into his phone as Claire was speaking. “This should yield some results.” He hit ‘end,’ set the phone on the table, and stared at it. In less than a minute, it emitted an old fashioned ring. He picked it up, pressed answer, and held the phone out for Rye and Claire to read.

“The Little Country Store.” Claire said. “That’s where the call originated, and isn’t that where Amy saw Ed’s roommate?”

Paul returned the phone to his pocket. “Yes, and I think it’s time to bring her in on this.”

Jane looked at her Caller ID and snatched up the receiver. “I told you never to call here.”

There was a moment of silence. “The girl you sent made a phone call. I traced it to a Paul Casey, Private Investigator.”

Jane slammed a fist on her desk. “You’re supposed to keep an eye on these girls. You hear anything?”

The tone was sharp, edgy. “Sure did. I distinctly heard her say ‘girls in the barn.’”

Jane slammed down the phone, picked up her coffee cup, and threw it against the wall where it burst into a thousand shards of ceramic. “Fucking little bitch is going to ruin everything.” A minute latter the phone rang. “Yes,” she hissed.
 

“What do you want me to do?”

Jane pulled the Stulov file from her top drawer. “She must have been with that kid you caught last night. Where is she now?”

“I told Billy to teach her a lesson.”

“Yeah, well, tell Billy not to hurt her and that I want to add her to the group.”
 

“What are we going to do? What if this PI comes snooping around?”

“I may have to call on the sheriff again. Keep the little bitch at the store, and I’d keep a tight leash on Billy. He gets brutal if given a minute alone with the girls.” Jane paused, thought better of her orders. “No. Take her to the barn with the others.”

Paul looked over at his daughter as she climbed into the bus. He’d pulled her out of school with the pretext of a family emergency. All he’d told her was that he was working a case, and needed her help.
 

He was quiet and stern during the drive from Ashland High School to Valley View. She’d seen him like this before and knew better then to play 20 Questions.
 

He walked her through the front door of the new Rogue Rescue and Ambulance headquarters without knocking—another sign that something was up—and led her into the kitchen.
 

Claire immediately walked around the table and gave her a hug. “We’re really glad you’re here.”

Paul crossed the room and sat on the far side of the table so he’d be facing his daughter. “Less than an hour ago, I got a phone call.” He took out his cell and put it on the table. “Based on this conversation, your Aunt Claire did a bit of Googling and determined that the girl who made the call is attending Hiouchi, a camp for troubled teens.” He paused, confused at the grin that was spreading across her face. “Why are you smiling?”

“I knew in my heart of hearts that you couldn’t leave this alone.”

He grinned back. “Okay, so you think you’ve got me pegged. Keep in mind that I’m your father and just maybe I can change my mind.”

Rye elbowed his friend. “Let’s get on with it.”

Paul gave a nod and continued. “We’ve also made a connection between the owner of the Little Country Store, where you saw Frank, and Ed’s death.”

The room went silent and Amy looked around. “Hey, I’m okay.”
 

“I’m going to play the message and ask for everyone’s response.

“Amy, I want you to go first.” He pressed a few icons and the message played. When it stopped, he locked eyes with his daughter. “What do you hear?”

She looked around at the three adult faces, all looking back expectantly. Everyone that met her always mentioned how mature she was for her age. But this was pushing it.

“A girl’s voice, tense. I think she thought Daddy was the guy she was with the other night.” Claire saw the concern on her face and felt the need to encourage her. “Very good.” Rye and Paul nodded in agreement. Claire saw the fifteen year-old beam under adult approval.
 

Encouraged, Amy continued. “The reference to last night would have been the night after we left, 24 hours ago.”

Again, Paul and Rye nodded and made agreeing noises.

Rye tapped the phone. “Could you play it again for me?”

When the message ended, he slapped the table. “We’ve all heard enough. We can make a connection between the owner of the Country Store, Camp Hiouchi, and a mystery barn filled with girls…”

Amy chimed in excitedly. “Don’t forget the connection between the owner of the store and Ed’s death.”
 

Her father gave her a stern look for having interrupted. “Remember, all we’re doing right now is connecting events.”
 

Rye shook his head vigorously. “I disagree. Hiouchi is for troubled teens. Claire pulled up the website for the camp.” He nodded for his wife to take over.
 

“Right,” Claire began. “It turns out that if the girls toe the line, they get the opportunity to work at the Little Country Store. Then you get a phone call from a girl thinking you’re someone she saw at a barn full of girls, and where is she calling from? The Little Country Store in Agness.”
 

Nobody said a word until Rye broke the silence. “We need to call the police with the information we have and let them sort things out.”

Paul slid his chair back and stood. “No. I think we have a sheriff who’s on the take. He’d be the first one the police would contact so as not to go barging in and step on jurisdictional toes.” He walked to the counter and held up the empty coffee pot. “I know what you’re thinking. That this is a human trafficking ring, and I agree. If we’re correct, there could be thousands involved, and who knows how long the trafficking ring has been in place…”

Amy gave a little squeal. “What better recruiting center than a camp for trouble teens where the parents can’t visit for nine months?”
 

Paul looked across the table at his daughter and bulged his eyes at her for interrupting.

Amy admonished her father. “I looked up the camp, too, and I can have opinions.” Then she folded her arms across her chest.

Claire put a hand on the teenager’s shoulder. “I think we have a more immediate issue that we need to act on right now.” She saw that she had everyone’s attention and continued. “The caller tried to remind you of who she was by mentioning Hiouchi. We all agree that she’s attending that camp and the call came from the Little Country Store. I think Amy is right on—the girl was tense. She saw something she knew she wasn’t supposed to see and made a call. Did anyone notice how abruptly the call ended? She could be in real danger.”