Fatal Secrets Page 8

  “I’ll notify security.”

  “No. I mean a real cop, twenty-four/seven, at no time can she be left unwatched. If she’s who I think she is, some very bad people will do anything to make sure she can’t talk.”

  “She may never talk again. Her larynx is crushed. She’s lucky to be alive.”

  Lucky. The girl would be lucky if she could forget for five minutes what had happened to her this morning, and the days, weeks, and months leading up to this brutal attack.

  “I’m not leaving here until an armed guard is standing outside her door. It can be ICE, it can be Sac P.D., it can even be the FBI, I don’t give a damn, all I want is that girl to be safe.” Sonia pushed aside her windbreaker revealing her gun and badge, and crossed her arms, putting her back to the door. “And I need to inspect her body immediately. She may have a GPS tracking device embedded under her skin, which means the person who did this to her already knows where she is.”

  Dr. Miller partly relented. “I’ll put hospital security on alert and have someone at her door until the police arrive.”

  “We may need to move her. If she has a—”

  He shook his head. “She’s in no condition to be moved. If you are certain she’s in danger, fine. Bring in an officer and we’ll make it work.”

  Not good enough, but Sonia needed to confirm the microchip before she pushed to move a critically injured victim to another facility. “I also need the names of the nurses and orderlies who are assigned to this room. They need to be cleared, and then only those who are cleared will be allowed into the room, with an officer present.”

  “Isn’t this overkill?”

  Sonia had lost too many witnesses to the cutthroat brutality of traffickers. “Hell no. I don’t know if it’ll be enough. Under no circumstances is she to be identified as Jane Doe.”

  “We already—”

  “Change it—now. Call her, um, Simone, what’s your middle name?”

  “Ann. Why?”

  “Call her Ann Charles. Change every record in the system. They’ll find a way to get in and search for Jane Does. They will be looking for her, they’ve already started.” Of that, Sonia was certain. She hoped it wasn’t too late to thwart them, or at least stall them.

  It was obvious that Dr. Miller was finally taking her seriously. “I’ll get right on it.”

  “Doctor,” Sonia asked, “what are her chances?”

  “That she regained consciousness, even momentarily, is a good sign, but … there’s extensive damage. She needs surgery, but right now surgery is too dangerous. If it wasn’t summer, she would have died of hypothermia. Even in this heat, her body temperature was far too low. I don’t know the extent of all her injuries. She’s going for a CAT scan in thirty minutes.”

  “Do you have a portable X-ray available?” Sonia asked. “We need to know what we’re up against.”

  “I’ll have it brought down. Give me a few minutes.” He walked briskly down the hall, pulling a nurse along with him.

  Sonia turned to Simone. “Can you get someone from Sac P.D. down here before that?”

  “I’ll do my best.” Simone picked up her phone.

  Sonia said, “Turn around and man the door. Be alert.”

  Sonia slipped into “Ann Charles’s” room before Simone could stop her.

  She let the door close.

  “You can’t be in here.”

  Sonia faced a seasoned nurse who was monitoring several humming, beeping machines while writing on a chart. The victim was the only patient in the 4-bed ICU room. “I’m Agent Sonia Knight with Immigration. Dr. Miller said I could see the patient.” She showed the nurse her badge.

  The nurse shook her head. “I doubt that. He allowed the police department to collect evidence, but the patient is in—”

  None of the staff’s efforts to protect Ann would matter if her attacker tracked her to Sutter Hospital. These people were ruthless; they would kill anyone who got in their way. While most of the brutal violence associated with trafficking occurred outside U.S. borders, there had been a marked increase over the last few years of “unsolved” murders that ICE believed were a by-product of the more-than-$23-billion-and-growing human trafficking business.

  “Five minutes,” she told the nurse as she approached the victim.

  The nurse called security and stood sentry at the foot of the bed. “Don’t touch her,” the nurse growled, but made no move to throw Sonia out.

  The victim had clearly not been meant to survive. Her skin was bruised, a bandage covered half her head, and numerous cuts had been cleaned, interspersed with bandages over the deeper injuries. Amazingly, her beautiful face was unmarked except for a couple of minor scratches. But her throat was dark purple with a bruise pattern that clearly outlined fingers.

  Previous victims flashed through Sonia’s mind. She’d seen similar marks before. In southern Mexico she was part of an international task force that uncovered an unmarked grave of more than a dozen women, all killed at different times. The most recent victim in the grave had been dead for less than forty-eight hours and bore similar violent bruising that covered her entire neck.

  Though the task force had thoroughly investigated the murders, they’d never had a suspect. DNA was collected, but it didn’t match any known individual in CODIS. Mexico and other countries had their own CODIS systems, but their data was less complete than in the United States and Europe. Still, it was worth sending the DNA samples Simone collected to all countries in the western hemisphere that had the capability to run them against their files. The chances Ann’s rapist and the Southern Mexico killer were one and the same were slim, but because human trafficking was involved the odds increased slightly.

  Sonia’s rage bubbled as she pictured the brute who had caused such pain and trauma to an innocent girl. She had to find the bastard and stop him. But even then, Ann’s safety was at risk. If she had been a captive, they wouldn’t let her live to tell her story or finger any of them. Sonia had to know what she was dealing with.

  “Ann” was in a deep, drug-induced sleep, on breathing equipment and an IV. Her neck was bruised, in a partial brace, and Sonia didn’t dare feel around for the chip and risk further injury. She’d have to wait for the X-ray.

  Traffickers inserted GPS chips when they planned to keep the victims alive and working, either in hard labor or prostitution. The implants, even when they didn’t function properly, kept them in line, because everyone believed they would be found even if they escaped. Some victims had cut out the microchips, but it wasn’t easy or safe. The back of the neck was a quick and easy incision with the least chance of infection, but the device was almost impossible to remove without assistance.

  Sonia felt the nurse watching her closely, but she had no choice. She reached out quickly and pushed up the sleeve of Ann’s gown to see the tattoo.

  The four stars were so familiar Sonia almost felt that she knew the girl. Of course she didn’t, not personally, only girls like her. She could have ended up like Ann. She also could have ended up dead. That she’d been one of the few to escape before suffering such physical and emotional trauma brought on mixed emotions. Relief and joy, guilt and sorrow. Knowing there were others not as lucky as she’d been. Others like Ann. Like Izzy …

  The nurse grabbed her arm. “Detective, you need to leave right now. You think you can come in here and manhandle my patient?” she said in a loud whisper. “Do you know what this girl has been through?”

  “I know a hell of a lot more about what she’s been through than you.”

  Sonia jerked her arm away from the nurse and gently dropped the gown back in place. She didn’t know what the numbers meant—she had never seen anything similar. They didn’t look right, as if a different ink had been used. But there was no way the nurse would give her the time she needed to concentrate on the oddity.

  The door opened and a security guard stepped in.

  “Escort this woman from the hospital,” the nurse demanded.

  �
�I’m leaving,” Sonia said.

  “I’ll take you out, ma’am,” the guard said.

  “I’ll wait for the doctor.” She stepped through the door. Dr. Miller came running and frowned.

  “Agent Knight, I told you not to speak to the patient.”

  “I didn’t talk to her. I needed to see something.”

  “If you want my help, I suggest you follow my rules.” He dismissed the security guard. “The portable X-ray is on its way. Wait here. Or I will have you removed from the hospital.” He stepped into the room to calm the fuming nurse.

  Simone grinned. “You have balls.”

  “So they tell me. Can you rush the DNA tests? Or send some evidence to the DHS lab? It’s a long shot, but because we’re dealing with likely human trafficking, our suspect could be a foreigner. DHS works closely with the FBI and law enforcement abroad.”

  “Consider it done.”

  “Maybe we’ll get lucky with an I.D.” As she spoke, she emailed her boss the information she had.

  “I just hope he’s from a country with an extradition treaty,” Simone said. “What about the tattoo?”

  “The stars are related to her destination. These girls don’t mean anything to them—they’re property. The marks tell them how to sort their ‘property’ to make it easier to inventory and distribute.”

  “How can you talk about human slavery so matter-of-factly?” Simone asked, incredulous.

  Sonia bristled, then bit back her temper. The criminalist was asking a valid question. Still, she responded with a question. “How can you collect evidence off a rape victim?”

  Simone shook her head. “It’s not the same thing.”

  “We all deal with our jobs the best we can. I have to be objective or I can’t do my job.”

  “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”

  Sonia pressed her palm to her forehead and said, “I overreacted.”

  Sonia had been accused of being both overly passionate and overly clinical, which used to amuse her until she realized most people didn’t want to see either extreme. They didn’t want to discuss serious crime clearly and rationally to solve the problem, nor did they want to hear about their own culpability in ignoring the problems in the first place. If it didn’t touch their lives, they feigned ignorance. They didn’t want to know if the clothes on their back had been sewn by a slave or if the shoes on their feet had been glued by an eight-year-old.

  “I’m going to check on the X-ray,” Simone said and went to find a nurse.

  Sonia’s phone vibrated. She glanced at the number. It showed a 916 area code and nothing else. Federal. “Hello?” Oh, shit. She was way late to her meeting with the FBI.

  “Sonia Knight, please.”

  “Hooper, right? I’m sorry.”

  “You did remember our meeting then.”

  “Yes, I’m really sorry. It couldn’t be avoided.”

  “I spoke with Toni Warner. She said the FBI is welcome to work with you and your partner, Agent Anderson. I don’t know if that’s in our best interest.”

  She paused a beat, her nerves prickling with restrained anger. “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t have time to play territorial games or wonder if you’re going to hold back crucial information.” Dean’s high-and-mighty arrogance—his superior tone—irritated Sonia and she bristled.

  “I don’t play games,” she snapped. “I resent the accusation.”

  “How can I be sure? I thought we agreed to share information. Yet you don’t even have the courtesy to tell me you’re running late. My time is as valuable as yours.”

  “Look, Hooper, I’m happy to work with you on this, okay? But right now I have a delicate situation and I can’t stroke your ego.” Sonia winced. Sometimes her mouth worked faster than her brain. She softened her voice and added, “If you can give me an hour, I’ll be there. I promise.”

  There was a long pause. “I think I owe you an apology,” Hooper said, startling Sonia into silence. “I didn’t mean to jump down your throat. I don’t have an ego, Sonia.”

  She must have touched a sore point with Hooper. “Okay, no ego. Neither do I.” She suddenly laughed, and it felt surprisingly good.

  “Did you just laugh?” He sounded surprised.

  “I might have.” She took a deep breath and said with a smile, “I think we should both admit that we have small, manageable, unobtrusive egos.”

  Dean couldn’t stifle his own chuckle. “I think I can agree with that.”

  Diplomacy was never something Sonia cared much about, but right now, working with the FBI on the Jones case was critical. There was too much at stake. And Sonia would do anything—perhaps even make a deal with the devil himself—to find Maya Zamora alive and reunite her with Andres.

  “Let’s regroup this afternoon.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s two, as soon as I get a guard on my victim, I’ll leave—”

  “Victim? What happened?”

  “This isn’t connected to Jones.” At least she didn’t think it was. Jones was a middleman; he wasn’t suspected of killing any of the people he traded in. Still, the FBI could help. “However, I was hoping to get some assistance.” She quickly explained to Dean what happened to “Ann” and her likelihood of being forced into prostitution. “The tattoos are a dead giveaway that she’s a victim of human trafficking. We have DNA from her rapist, and it’s clear that he intended to kill her when he threw her in the river. How she survived the ordeal is a miracle. Simone Charles from forensics is sending DNA samples to the DHS lab for processing and comparisons with foreign CODIS databases. I was hoping you could clear the way of bureaucratic obstacles and help process the evidence on your end.”

  “I can help. Sometimes being an assistant director has huge advantages. I’ll email Ms. Charles my secretary’s contact information and put in a few calls.”

  “Thank you, Dean. I really appreciate your help.” Sonia gave him the details, then hung up.

  Simone approached when she saw that Sonia was off the phone. “I spoke to Detective Black. He’s getting a twenty-four-hour guard approved right now. We’ll have someone within an hour.”

  “The FBI is pulling out the stops on DNA. Dean Hooper is going to email you with instructions.” She wrote down Dean’s contact information for Simone.

  Dr. Miller returned with a nurse and a table of equipment, including an X-ray machine. Sonia was relieved that the doctor was taking Ann’s condition seriously. “I’ll personally see to it that if there is a damn computer chip in my patient’s neck no one can track her down.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. Do you know when you’ll take her into surgery?”

  “She’s stable right now and she’ll be taken down for a CAT scan shortly. I’ll know more after that.”

  “Please wait until the guard shows,” Sonia said. “Or I can go with her.” Sonia needed to get back to the Jones investigation, but she couldn’t leave Ann vulnerable. She was torn between the two cases.

  “It’ll be at least thirty minutes.”

  “When you remove the GPS chip, I want it. We might be able to trace it.” A long shot, but Sonia was willing to go down any path to find everyone responsible for Ann’s condition. It wasn’t only the rapist who was culpable. Who tattooed her? Who put the numbers on her? Who brought her to this country in the first place—or kidnapped her? How long had she been forced to prostitute herself? Where? Were there more like her in Sacramento? Sonia knew the answer was yes, but she didn’t know where to start other than getting Xavier Jones to talk.

  Sonia stared at Ann’s door, willing the girl to recover. She was another key; like Andres a victim, but she’d also been part of the organization. She could testify, she could lead Sonia to where she’d been imprisoned. Describe her attacker. Ann was a key witness, another reason they needed to protect her.

  Most victims of human trafficking were dead when Sonia found them. Or they’d been rescued before they learned anything about the illegal underground. Ann was rare and her survival paramo
unt.

  Riley, Sonia’s brother, stepped out of the nearby elevator. He was dressed in uniform and Sonia asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “I heard through the grapevine that you were involved and needed police protection for a rape victim.” He tilted his head toward the criminalist. “Hi, Simone.”

  “Riley.”

  “Thanks, Riley.” Sonia filled him in on the case as quickly as possible. “I’m glad you’re here. I feel much better leaving Ann in your hands.”

  “Ann? You know who she is?”

  “No, but I don’t want her identified as a Jane Doe. Be careful, Riley. These people are ruthless.”

  “Right back at you, sis.”

  Sonia left the hospital, relieved that Ann was in good hands and that the doctor was serious about protecting both her identity and her life. She called Toni Warner as soon as she got into her car. “Anything about Charlie?” She asked without preamble.

  “I’ve talked to everyone who would know about an undercover operation concerning Jones,” she said, “and no one is claiming involvement.”

  “That doesn’t mean there isn’t something going on,” Sonia said. While the various branches of federal law enforcement had been working together better since 9/11 unified their key mission statements and goals, there were still clandestine operations throughout the country and the world. Sonia knew; she’d been part of several post-2001. But because of her position and reputation Toni had the right contacts. She’d get a hint of an operation if one existed. It would just take time, and every passing day made it harder to find Maya.

  “Tread carefully, Sonia. Cammarata is a loose cannon and dangerous.”

  “He’s not going to hurt me.” Again.

  “Not intentionally, but he’s always felt his causes were just, his actions necessary. He’s always believed the ends justify the means, Sonia. And frankly, I don’t care how noble his goal is, Cammarata cannot break law after law. It’s why he was fired, it’s why he’s been blacklisted, and it’s why you, and others, were nearly killed. Don’t trust him because you think he feels remorse over what he did ten years ago. Trust me: I know Charlie Cammarata, and any guilt he feels is far outweighed by his personal mission to save the underdog at the expense of those he thinks should take care of themselves.”