HAPTER ONE
“I can’t do this,” the woman said, sitting across the table from Senora, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Senora reassured her. “I promise.”
Senora reached under the table and grabbed the woman’s shaking hand, giving the sketch artist a look when he blew out an exasperated sigh. His laptop was open on the table, a sketching tablet on his lap and his legs crossed tightly. His spine was rigid, and he looked one delay away from getting up and walking out.
When they were done, Senora was going to suggest to her superiors that his talents were better used with unaffected eye witnesses, and not battered and traumatized victims. His bedside manner was nonexistent, and her witness was one dirty look away from bolting.
She didn’t even know why this victim was in the FBI office instead of in the hospital. The officer who had picked her up was a rookie, and as soon as he’d recognize Jessica from the news stories, he’d brought her to the closest FBI office.
Since Senora was the only one who had gotten to the office over an hour early, she was the one who got to interview her. Senora didn’t mind; taking care of victims and catching bad guys was what she did. At least, that’s what she did before she’d been unceremoniously pulled from the field and all but chained to the desk in the crowded, noisy FBI field office on the quiet side of D.C. It wasn’t her ideal work situation, but she didn’t have a choice.
“We’re in no hurry, Jessica,” she told the woman, giving her a reassuring smile. “Take all the time you need, and don’t rush it. Do you need to take a break? You’ve been through a lot, and no one expects you to do more than you can handle. Can I get you something to eat?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head so hard that her loose blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders from the knot she’d tied it into. Her blue eyes were filled with pain and sadness and something else as she continued. “I’m not hungry, and I don’t want to do this later. I want to get it over with so I never have to think of it again. It’s just so hard. When will this nightmare end?”
“I understand,” Senora said, her voice comforting. “I’m right here, and no one is going to hurt you again.”
Jessica Baker nodded and took a breath. It shuddered on the way out, but Jessica already looked calmer, stronger. It was hard to see the beauty beyond the swollen face and the busted lip, but Senora knew that Jessica had been a good find for whoever had kidnapped her. Traffickers had a typical mark, and Jessica fit it perfectly. Slender and petite but not too short, light hair and a youthful face, the mother of one hadn’t stood a chance when she’d left her child napping under her husband’s watchful eye to go for a jog. She’d been kidnapped in broad daylight and held for almost three weeks before she’d escaped on her own. She didn’t look anything like the woman that had been kidnapped, but with a little weight and some time to recover, the outward signs of what she’d been through would disappear.
The inner scars would last a lifetime, and until the people responsible were caught, Jessica would always be looking over her shoulder.
“I know they can’t,” she said finally. “Logically, I know that. And Jacob told me that on the way over here. But I still feel their hands on me, and I hear the noises in the middle of the night.” She took another deep breath. “And I can smell it. I know it’s just a memory, but there’s a certain smell that I can’t place and I can’t shake. I don’t know how I’m ever going to get past this.”
“You will,” Senora assured her. “When we’re done here, I’ll set you up with victim’s services and they’ll get you to the right place. You’ll be feeling like your old self in no time, I promise.”
Jessica nodded, but even Senora heard the hollowness in her promise. Jessica would never be the same, just like other women before and the unfortunate women who might not be as lucky as Jessica had been.
Senora gritted her teeth at the thought of anyone in Jessica’s condition being considered lucky. But Jessica was alive, and as soon as her mother-in-law arrived with her toddler, Jessica would live to hold her baby another day. That was lucky, especially for a woman who’d been kidnapped in such a brazen fashion.
“Alright, I’m ready. Really ready,” she said, this time to the artist waiting impatiently at the table. “Her face was round, and she was about fifty years old, maybe a little more, but not sixty.”
“Her?” Senora and the sketch artist said in unison.
Jessica stopped, looking nonplussed.
“Yes, her. That’s why I wasn’t scared. She was an older looking woman, kind of hefty but not really large, with a hole in her shoe and a sad look on her face. She stopped me to ask me for help finding her granddaughter, and when I moved closer to look at the picture in her hand, someone hit me over the head. When I woke up, the grandmother was dressed differently, but I know it was her. She yelled at me to quit crying, and she shoved food into the room with me and left me there. I saw her every day. I know exactly what she looked like.”
Jessica went back to describing the woman to the artist, who worked on the computer and on the sketch pad. Senora half listened, but her mind was reeling. That was why there’d been a rash of bold, daylight kidnappings in the wealthy subdivision just outside D.C. No one was expecting to be kidnapped by a woman, let alone someone as harmless as a grandmother. Even without the full description, Jessica had shared a valuable piece that had been missing, and it was all Senora could do not to run out of the room and hold a press conference right then and there. But she couldn’t. Jessica needed her, and working with the press was tricky. She would have to forward this to their Press Liaison, and then she would go back to what she did best: finding the bad guys and bringing them to justice.
Or in this case, the bad woman.
Senora drifted in and out, mentally planning everything while Jessica worked, yet watching the picture come to life little by little. When the sketch artist finally turned the screen around and Jessica gasped, Senora knew they had their suspect. Now they just had to find the sweet-looking granny who was being used to catch unsuspecting housewives off-guard.
“I’m sure that’s her,” Jessica whispered from behind her hands. “That’s the woman that stopped me and begged me to help her find her granddaughter. Why did I believe her? I was such a fool.”
“Not a fool,” Senora said. “Just a decent human being who cared about someone else. This woman is good at what she did. That’s not your fault. That will never be your fault. She’s done this before, I’m sure of it.”
“Are there more missing women?” Jessica asked, her voice wavering with the unshed tears she was fighting back.
Senora looked at Jessica and weighed whether she should tell her or not. It was partially true, and she could just leave it at that. But it wouldn’t be the whole truth, and Senora truly hated half-truths. She might as well be lying, and Jessica was going to find out later anyway.
“There are more women, yes. But they’re not missing.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s my cue to exit stage left,” the sketch artist said, gathering up his things quickly and scurrying out the door.
Jessica watched him go with a look of confusion on her face.
The door clicked behind him, then there was silence and nothing but the weight of Jessica’s question and the truth that Senora knew the woman would never be ready to hear.
“We haven’t been able to get ahold of your husband yet. We’re sending an agent to his work, but in the meantime, is there someone else I can call for you? A sibling?”
“My sister died of cancer a few years ago. I don’t have anyone besides my husband.”
“That’s fine. It’s just that what I have to tell you isn’t easy to hear, and I want to make sure that you’re alright.”
“I’m alright. I’m struggling, but I’m alive and I’m trying to focus on being grateful for that. Just say what you need to say. I can handle it.”
“We’ve had a lot of women go missing over the past few months under these same circumstances, but you’re the first to survive.”
“What?”
“Jessica, I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’re our only survivor so far.”
“I need to go home,” she said. “I need to see my baby and sleep in my bed.”
“You’re not safe until these people are caught, and I can’t let you just leave. You have information we need to solve this case.”
“Can’t it wait? Haven’t I been through enough today? I escaped in the middle of the night last night and only found my way home this morning. I’m sure I can get some rest and come back to this tomorrow or the next day.”
“You can’t. We need to scrape under your nails and check your hair and clothes for clues.”
Jessica pulled her clothes tighter around herself.
“I can’t do that. I don’t want anyone else touching me.”
“I understand that, I promise. And I promise my forensic tech will be very gentle.”
“That’s not enough. I don’t care about gentle; I don’t want to be touched at all. I just want to take a hot bath and forget this ever happened.”
“And no one blames you for that. But the fact is that we can’t help anyone else if we don’t get these things from you. Once you’ve showered, the evidence is gone and-”
“No,” Jessica shouted, standing up from the table and backing up against the wall. “I won’t do it, and you can’t make me.”
Well, that escalated quickly, she thought. She’d pushed Jessica too hard, but Senora didn’t have a choice. What was worse is that Jessica was about to find out that she didn’t have a choice. A woman of privilege and means, it probably never occurred to her that ‘no’ meant nothing in a Federal Investigation with dozens of women already dead. But that was the truth of the matter, and Jessica wasn’t going to like it.
Senora decided to try a softer approach.
“Listen, Jessica. I know this is hard. Anyone in your place would be terrified, and I don’t blame you for wanting to run away from this all. It was terrifying, and you are the victim here.”
Jessica’s body softened ever so slightly, and Senora knew that she’d found the right track. She continued, taking her time and measuring her words carefully.
“You were incredibly brave to take a chance and get away the way you did. Dozens of women before you weren’t able to get away, and I can’t stress how proud we are of your strength.”
“I was so scared, but it was scarier being trapped in that place.”
“Exactly. And that wasn’t even the worst of it, right? Did the other women see you leave?”
“They did. They stayed quiet, but I knew that they wanted me to take them with me.”
“But you couldn’t.”
“I couldn’t. I was so weak, and if I hadn’t noticed that the door didn’t latch correctly, I would never have escaped myself. I couldn’t break them out without the keys, and I tried to tell a few of them that, but I didn’t want to get caught. I ran, and I never looked back.”
“No one blames you for that.”
“I would have helped them if I could.”
“Of course, you would have.”
“I would do anything to help them.”
“That’s good, because that’s what I need you to do right now. You escaped, and you have information I have to have in order to catch the people responsible for your kidnapping.”
Jessica pursed her lips. She knew she’d been had.
“I’m scared,” she said finally.
“It’s alright to be scared. Bravery doesn’t mean the absence of fear. It means being afraid and just doing it anyway. I’ll be here with you through it all, and all you have to do is tell us everything you remember while it’s still fresh and let us collect samples. After we’re done, you can take a shower while we compile the evidence to go after these people.”
“What about the women in the place I was being kept? What about them?”
“Right now, they’re probably alive. But unless you can give us a lot to go on, we don’t have any leads. I’ve been working this case for almost six months, and you’re our first survivor and the only lead we have. That’s why I need you to tell me everything you remember, and I’m going to need you to let my forensics agent get some swabs and scrape out anything you may have under your nails. The more clues we have, the better. So far, we have the gentle-looking grandma, and that’s all we know. It’s a huge break in the case, but if we want to save lives, I need to know more. We need your help, Jessica.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready,” Jessica said miserably.
“Every minute we wait for you to be ready is another minute closer to another body. I don’t mean to be harsh, but we really don’t have time to wait until this is a comfortable discussion for you.”
“You said there was no hurry when we were working with the artist.”
“That’s because hurrying you along is stressful and makes it more likely that you’ll forget something or shut down altogether. But that part is over, and time is running out.”
Jessica started pacing. She was getting agitated again, and Senora regretted being so heavy-handed with her. But she was the only one who knew where she’d been, and this was important.
“There is no hurry for you to share information in this moment. But women’s lives hang in the balance. That carries some urgency. I wish we could just let it go, send you home and look for this information another day, but that’s just not realistic. I’m sorry.”
Senora waited, her gaze unwavering even though she didn’t want to push Jessica and risk her shutting down altogether.
Jessica glared back, lip trembling between her teeth, defiant. Senora held her breath, hoping against hope that this woman wouldn’t call for a lawyer and put an end to their discussion. She wasn’t a suspect, so it wasn’t the same as a suspect lawyering up, but it complicated matters. Senora didn’t have time to chase down judges for warrants and hope that Jessica didn’t take a shower between now and then. Every minute they wasted, evidence was potentially lost. A shower and a change of clothes would be a disaster. Senora needed Jessica to put herself in the shoes of the other women and cooperate with-
“I’ll do it,” Jessica said, shocking Senora out of her thoughts.
“You will?”
“On the condition that I can shower immediately after that, and I never have to wear these clothes again.”
“That can be arranged. We have a shower here, and I have standard issue FBI sweats available. That way, you can leave the clothes here, and when we’re done with them, we’ll dispose of them.”
“What about shoes?”
“I’ll send someone to get you a pair of shoes,” Senora said, remembering that Jessica had found help on the side of the road while shoeless.
“I don’t need anything fancy. Just a pair of flip flops that aren’t plastic.”
Senora nodded.
“I’ll take care of that,” she said. She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text asking that someone bring Jessica shoes, then tucked it back in her jacket. “I’ll need you to come with me to another room to take the evidence.”
Senora’s voice was gentle. Jessica nodded and leaned down to pick up something off the floor. When her hand connected with the sealed concrete, Jessica grimaced and looked at Senora apologetically.
“I keep forgetting that I don’t have my purse here. Even a few weeks later, I feel like I should have it with me.”
“You’re not the first person to say that,” Senora assured her, then her eyes lit up. “But, we did find your cell phone, and since there’s nothing on it that we need, you can have it back.”
Jessica perked up a little bit.
“It seems weird to care about something so small, but all my pictures of my daughter are on that phone. I’m glad you have it.”
“Hold on a second, and I’ll grab it. I put it aside when I found out you were rescued, and I meant to bring it with me. It’s on my desk. Will you be alright for a moment while I run and get it?”
“Sure,” Jessica said, though Senora didn’t think that she was as positive as she was pretending to be.
Senora hurried, jogging down the hall, unlocking her bottom drawer and grabbing the small padded envelope that the phone had been stored in.
She presented it to Jessica, who smiled softly and held her breath until the light came on and the phone powered up.
“It works,” she said, tears streaming down her face as she scrolled through the pictures with her finger. “My little Evie. I can’t wait to hold her again.”
“I understand,” Senora said, even though she knew she couldn’t.
With no children and no real family, Senora had no idea the depth of the pain Jessica Baker had experienced at being separated from her child for so long. But she could imagine, and that was as close as she wanted to get.
Jessica held the phone close, then smiled at Senora again.
“I can’t thank you enough. I know your job is probably hard, but you’re good at what you do. This means so much to me, and it’s not surprising that you knew I would want to have it right away. You seem to really care about people who’ve been hurt. Do you get to meet a lot of survivors?” Jessica asked.
“Not nearly enough,” Senora said. “Not nearly enough.”
She led Jessica out of the room and down a narrow corridor. The surgical style booties they’d given her to wear when they’d picked her up made a swishing noise on the floor. Coupled with the scent of industrial cleaner in the hall, it reminded Senora of a hospital (more specifically, the hallway leading to the morgue).
She shook herself, forcing the image away from the forefront. Jessica was fine, and there was a good chance that the information that she’d given them was going to save countless lives. Now was not the time for morbid thoughts. They weren’t helping anyone, and they were way off base. This was a good day, and this case was about to blow wide-open. Senora could feel it.
They stopped at a plain, unmarked door, and Senora used her ID to open the door. There was the sound of a seal breaking and the door suctioning against the frame for an instant before it opened soundlessly and revealed a plain, windowless and mirror-free room with a low hospital bed in the middle.
Jessica stopped mid-step and stared at the room.
“You can do this,” Senora said. “Anyone who can escape the hell that you did can do this. It’s almost over, and you can shower, change, and walk out of here and go back to your old life.”
“Is it?” Jessica asked.
“Is it, what?”
“Is it ever going to truly be over?”
Senora’s heart ached for the woman. She was right; her life would never be the same. She would have nightmares, she’d suffer PTSD, and she would probably never walk out of her house alone again. And that wasn’t the worst of it. There would be people who didn’t believe her, and there would be old “friends” that came out of the woodwork because they were soulless animals who loved to prey on people who were hurting. They would descend upon Jessica under the guise of helping her through a tough time. But they were really looking for gory details left out of the news, and their curiosity made them incapable of realizing or at least caring that they were victimizing someone who’d already been victimized.
Today was a hard day, but this was nowhere near the end. Senora could tell by the look on her face that Jessica already suspected that. She was just waiting for Senora to confirm it. But Senora only shook her head and extended her hand.
“It’s almost over,” she said again, not talking about what would come after the evidence collection and the shower. “Once you leave this room, you never have to come back.”
Jessica took Senora’s hand and let herself be led to the bed. The door closed behind them on its own as Jessica made herself comfortable.
“You are incredibly brave,” Senora commented, trying to build Jessica up as the woman lay trembling on the hospital bed, readying herself for the crime scene tech that would be coming in the other door any minute now.
“No, I’m not brave,” Jessica said flatly. “If someone hadn’t screwed up, I would be dead. I hope that bitch pays for this with her life.”
You’re not the only one, Senora thought.