SHATTERED SOULS OF INNOCENCE
By
Melissa Ohnoutka
Shattered Souls of Innocence
Copyright © 2011 by Melissa Ohnoutka
Cover art Copyright © 2011 by Melissa Ohnoutka
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from Melissa Ohnoutka
Published by Specter Publishing
Smashwords Edition 2011
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Acknowledgments
The love and support I receive daily from my family is what makes this dream of writing possible. Thank you for always believing in me. (Mom you're the best friend a girl could ever have.)
And a huge thank you to all my wonderful critique partners and writing buds. You kept me sane and pushing forward.
Thanks for reading Faithful Deceptions! Enjoy!
The Trial ~
“How many ways,” a pause followed as the man on the witness stand choked back a sob and collected his thoughts. “How many times is it necessary to beg for someone to end your life?”
The courtroom shuddered.
A collected gasp of disbelief and horror over the details already given.
The witness shifted uneasily in his chair. Painful memories etched the deep lines on his face like words on open pages of a book. And yet, he managed to continue.
“When they tried to hang me, I thought it was finally over.” He went very still, his voice breaking with the last few words. “But they cut the rope at the last second. I remember falling to the cement, struggling to inhale.” His head fell to his chest. “The air was so foul. I didn’t dare look around. I’d learned quickly what death smelt like.”
“When they buried me alive, I counted myself lucky, considering what I’d seen and heard them do to the others.” With his good hand, he wiped the sweat from his brow as his breath caught.
“Mr. Marland, do you need a moment?” The prosecuting DA, a petite woman with kind eyes, moved to stand in front of the witness—a move clearly meant to block the view of his tormenter and give the witness strength.
Patrick Roark took advantage of the brief break in Marland’s testimony to study the defendant.
Dwayne Anderson sat sideways in his chair at the defense table, his hands casually folded in front of him. Even after months in prison he looked like the good-old-boy-next-door. Nothing about this man revealed the gruesome crimes he and his brother, Dustin, had planned and carried out.
Marland cleared his throat twice drawing Roark’s attention back to him. “Glass of water,” he choked.
“Certainly.” The DA poured him a glass and handed it to him, having to close the man’s trembling fingers around the glass before letting go.
Roark wasn’t at all sure Mr. Marland would be capable of finishing. It was public knowledge where he’d been found and how they found him, but everything up to that point remained locked away somewhere deep inside Mr. Marland’s psyche. Roark wouldn’t blame him one bit for not wanting to remember the horror he’d been put through.
“What happened after they buried you alive?”
The witness closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “It’s fuzzy. I remember hearing voices as the dirt was removed. Felt the small box they crammed me in being lifted out of the hole. And then the next thing I knew I was in the damn jungle.”
“So you were able to get out of the box on your own?”
“Yes. They unbolted the lock and then left.”
“What did you see when you removed the lid?”
Marland took another drink and swiped his brow again. He was sweating profusely now. “There was a plate of food and a water bottle beside the box.”
“Was that all?” The prosecutor’s voice rose an octave, strong and authoritative, lending strength to her witness.
“There was a knife. A Bowie knife—with a blade the size of an ax and jagged for easy cutting.”
Another collected gasp circled the courtroom at the thought of what might be cut with a knife that size. Roark swallowed hard himself.
“Anything else?”
“The knife was stabbed into a note on top of a hunk of raw meat left on the plate.”
“And what did the note say, Mr. Marland?”
“It said to enjoy my last meal. That I had thirty minutes before…” His composure was crumbling.
“Before what, Mr. Marland? Take your time.” It was clear the prosecutor knew they were working on borrowed time. Her witness would last a few more minutes, tops.
“Before they came after me. Before they hunted me down like some, some kind of animal.”
The courtroom buzzed with disbelief.
“Order!” the judge said, pounding the gavel so hard Roark thought for sure it would break in two.
“What did you do then, Mr. Marland,” the prosecutor said quite breathless.
“I-I ran.” Marland jerked up from his seat, his eyes full of tears and rage as he stared Dwayne down. “I’m not an animal, you son-of-a-bitch. I’m flesh and blood. Just like you. How dare you. How dare you treat people like this.” He took a jagged breath, holding his good hand to his chest. “I hope you rot in hell right alongside that sick bastard you called your brother. For all the things you two have done, hell isn’t punishment enough.”
“Objection, Your Honor!” Dwayne’s defense attorney was up out of his chair and trying his best to keep his temper in check. Roark had to give Dwayne’s lawyer points for theatrics. Court was, after all, a stage, often controlled by the better dramatic actor.
“Order! Order in the court!” The judge pounded his gavel again with little result.
“If I still had both my hands, I’d strangle you myself, you worthless piece of shit.” Marland was up and leaning forward, his mid-section resting on the edge of the witness stand for support.
“Order, Mr. Marland. I said order! Now sit down.” The judge was doing his best to keep the entire court from erupting into complete chaos.
The sudden outburst shocked everyone, including Roark. Marland didn’t appear to have enough strength to remain sitting upright, much less bolt from his seat like that.
“I’m sorry, you’re honor. So sorry.” Mr. Marland eased back into his chair, broken, overcome by grief and deeply tormented by fear and all the humiliation he’d endured.
It was only for a brief moment, but Roark swore he saw Dwayne smirk. His defense was insanity. The ‘old my-brother-made-me-do-it’ act. No way was that going to fly. Not with the testimony Marland just gave.
The only question in Roark’s mind was if the defense would risk digging the hole deeper by cross examining the witness.
“Your witness.” The prosecutor nodded to the defense table before returning to her desk and Roark sat holding his breath.
“No questions, Your Honor.” Dwayne’s lawyer leaned back and whispered something to a young man sitting behind him. The man immediately got up and left the room.
“The prosecution rests, Your Honor.” The DA had done her job quite nicely.
Roark watched her with great interest. She was used to winning and by the look on her face, she was sure to be adding another notch to her belt. He tried to relax his tense neck muscles, listening to the silence fill the courtroom for the first time in hours. Everyone was working to process the information they’d heard. The jury sat paralyzed, both horrified and disgusted. And then the door opened at the back of the courtroom.
It was at that moment Roark realized things were about to get ugly. Dwayne’s lawyer stood, his chair scraping against the marble floor and sending an eerie echo bouncing off the walls. “Your Honor, we’d like to call one more witness.”
“Damn,” Roark whispered to himself. They were so close to ending this nightmare. He didn’t need to turn around. This would be the star witness they had all been searching for. A woman who knew both the Anderson brothers better than anyone should ever have to.
Their dear cousin. Mrs. Alexandra West Marland.
Roark straightened in his seat to get a better view of the medics escorting Marland from the courtroom by the side door. Heaven help the man. He’d never walk again. The steel teeth of the bear trap they’d found him left to die in, or worse yet, be the next easy meal of some wild animal, made sure of that. And now this? Recovering from his ordeal would take nothing short of a miracle.
“Objection!” The prosecutor almost fell over backward getting up from her chair. “Sidebar, Your Honor.”
The judge waved the two lawyers forward, clearly perturbed by the possibility of another delay.
“This better be good, Mr. Watkins.”
“Your Honor, I assure you she’s on the witness list and we would have called her first thing if we could have found her. She’s been out of the country and only just returned.”
“Is she willing to testify?”
“Your Honor, I don’t see the need to prolong this…”
“I make the decisions here, Ms. Obrien.” The judge lowered his glasses and lifted a bushy brow. “Is the witness on your list?”
“Yes, Your Honor. But…”
“Then, I’ll allow it.”
“But we haven’t had a chance to properly review the witness’s credibility.”
“You’ll have your chance to cross examine.” The judge pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and dismissed them. “Let’s get on with this.”
“Let the record show I object to this witness.” The prosecutor’s confidence appeared shaken.
This is not good. Roark glanced over at Dwayne. He was sitting forward now, his perfect posture a bit slumped over the table. So this witness worried Dwayne as well. Why? She was there to testify in his defense.
“So noted.” The judge pounded his gavel, waving the lawyers back to their seats.
Roark watched as Mrs. Marland walked past him. She kept her gaze focused straight ahead. Dressed in a conservative black suit and heels, she was striking. Her blond hair, much longer now, was pulled back away from her face and gave the illusion of a much younger woman than he remembered. She stopped just behind the prosecutor’s table and Roark noticed how badly this usually strong and determined woman was trembling.
Well, at least her decision wasn’t an easy one for her. Maybe that counted for something.
“The defense calls Mrs. Alexandra West Marland to the stand.”
Chills raced down Roark’s arms and legs as the court erupted in a frenzy of gasps and whispers when they realized who the woman was. Some even stood to get a better view. Reports and spectators were streaming in and out of the courtroom to the point the judge finally called a ten minute recess.
Roark understood their confusion, their astonishment. How could this woman testify for the man who’d ruined her husband’s life? The man who’d kidnapped him, sold him, left him to die the most inhumane kind of death possible. All of which would have been horrendous done to any human being, but to do this to someone you knew, someone who was a part of your own family? That was an entirely different kind of evil.
Roark pulled out his cell and hurried into the hallway. Better his wife hear this new turn of events from him instead of the news. This wasn’t going to go over well at all.
“Where are you, Hailey?” After several minutes of getting and hanging up on the answering machine, he decided to try again later. The judge was calling the proceedings back into session.
“State your full name for the court.”
Roark slipped back into his seat just as the witness took hers on the stand. He watched spellbound as Ms. Marland was sworn in, her right hand still shaking as it rested on the Bible and she swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
“How do you know the defendant?” Dwayne’s lawyer gestured toward his client.
“He’s my cousin.”
“And how well do you know this man?”
Ms. Marland blew out a jagged breath of air. “We grew up together.”
“When you say we, you mean just Dwayne and you?”
Roark knew it. They were going to bring Dustin into this. That’s the only way Dwayne had a chance in hell of getting that insanity plea.
“No. I mean Dwayne, his twin brother Dustin, and myself.” Ms. Marland closed her eyes and inhaled deep, swallowing so hard it was audible.
“Dustin Anderson was your cousin as well. I see. And you’ve known both these men since childhood?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of relationship would you say these two brothers had?”
Shit. Here it comes. Roark gritted his teeth to the point pain shot up his jawline.
There was an extremely long pause. Ms. Marland glanced over at Dwayne and then back to his lawyer. “It wasn’t normal, if that’s what you mean.”
“Can you give us an example? Something to help us understand how they got along with each other.” Mr. Watkins moved to stand in front of the jury box, clearly including them in his meaning of the word us.
Ms. Marland cleared her throat and crossed her arms over her chest. “Dwayne did everything Dustin told him to. It didn’t matter what it was or who it might hurt. Dwayne did it because he knew what Dustin would do to him if he didn’t.”
“I see. So Dwayne was somewhat afraid of his older brother then?”
“More like terrified.” She uncrossed her arms, lowered her gaze to her lap and started picking apart the tissue in her hand. “We all were.”
An eerie hush fell over the courtroom. The implications of her last statement slashed a deep unmistakable hole in the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, not to mention the reality of it all.
Dustin was evil to the core.
To take Mrs. Marland at her word, he’d just been born that way.
“When you say you all were, who are your referring to? The other kids in your neighborhood, other cousins, schoolmates, who specifically?” Mr. Watkins let his arms fall to his side, waiting for the answer that would be Dwayne’s get out of jail free card.
“I mean me. Dwayne. My parents. His parents. Hell, yes, other kids in our neighborhood and school. I dare you to try and find one living person who wasn’t afraid of that sick bastard when we were growing up. It’s why his mother left, you know. She couldn’t take it anymore. Especially after the baby…” Dwayne coughed stopping her in midsentence. Ms. Marland stared at him, an odd look in her eyes and tears trickling down her cheeks.
“What baby?” Mr. Watkins appeared truly surprised by this new information, but ready to jump on it if it would help his client’s case.
“Their little sister.” Ms. Marland kept going despite Dwayne’s obvious disapproval. He looked ready to bolt over the table. “She was only four months old. They said it was an accident.”
Roark noticed Dwayne’s reaction. The man’s entire body tensed in anticipation.
“What happened to the baby?”
“The doctor said it was Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. But Dwayne knows the truth. Deep down we all did.”
“Are you saying Dustin killed his little sister and Dwayne knew?”
“No…No.” Ms. Marland shook her head. “Don’t put words in my mouth. I’m saying things happened when people went against Dustin’s wishes.” She paused and shook her head as memories seemed to play through her head. “Bad things.”
“So let’s get this straight. Dustin did bad things to people if they didn’t follow his instructions?”
“Objection, Your Honor. Dustin is not the one on trial here.” Ms. Obrien was looking for any chance to break up this little pity party. She’d been scribbling frantically on her note pad ever since Ms. Marland took the stand.
“Sustained. Do you have a point, Mr. Watkins?”
“Yes, Your Honor. I’m trying to establish my client’s odd relationship to his older brother.”
“Tread lightly, Mr. Watkins. I’ll not have you waste any more time.”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Dwayne’s lawyer put both hands on his hips and studied Ms. Marland for a few seconds. “How old were Dustin and Dwayne when this happened?”
“We were all ten years old.”
Mr. Watkins looked over at the defense table. He wasn’t at all happy his client had withheld this information from him. “And how did you find out about what happened to the baby? That it was determined to be an accident?”
“Dwayne told me. He came over to my house after it happened in a panic. Said he was sorry. So sorry.” She choked back a sob as she looked at Dwayne.
Roark knew the Anderson brothers were twins, but he had no idea there had been any other siblings. This little tidbit never made it into the case files. Talk about messed up. This proved his theory. These two psychopaths should have been locked up tight long ago. There was no way a normal child that young could do something like that on purpose?
He wanted to see Dwayne’s face. Wanted to see for himself if Dwayne felt any remorse for the loss of his younger sister. But no matter how he positioned his body, he could only see a partial profile.
“What else did Dwayne tell you?”
“He said Dustin would kill him too if he ever found out he’d told me. We swore never to speak of it again.”
“And what made Dwayne believe this to be true? They were, after all, ten years old at the time.”
A funny noise, too deep and broken to be considered anything resembling laughter, erupted from her chest. She leaned forward, met the lawyer eye to eye. “By the time Dwayne was five, he’d broken five bones. All in weird accidents. He always had scratches and bruises in the strangest places. Not hidden mind you, but in plain sight. And not the kind you normally get falling or bumping into something.”
“And you believe Dustin was responsible?”
“Dwayne didn’t have to say a word. The way he followed Dustin around, the way he watched him, refused to speak in Dustin’s presence proved more than words ever could. He was petrified of his older brother. And his parents…? Well, they were too messed up to do anything about it. I felt so sorry for him.” She buried her head in her hands and wept softly.
“Mrs. Marland I know this is difficult, but if you want to help your cousin…”
“Do you? Do you really know how damn hard this is?” Ms. Marland’s lifted her head to glare at the defense attorney, her chest rising and falling heavily as she struggle to keep the sobs back and speak. “I’m not sure I want to help him. I’m not sure he’s not just as bad as Dustin. What he did to my husband…” She was choking back sobs now, trying desperately to get the words out.
“Your Honor, I move that this testimony be stricken from the record. This woman is not stable enough to be a character witness.”
The prosecutor’s unsympathetic response was all it took for Ms. Marland to get her second wind. “Let me tell you something, Ms. Obrien. I’m more than capable of doing this. I may be emotional, but who in God’s name wouldn’t be after what I’ve found out. Do I believe Dustin orchestrated my husband’s kidnapping and sold him to that horrid man for his own private hunting game? Yes, I do. Do I believe Dwayne was the one who actually drugged my husband and then made the trade for a measly thirty grand? Yes, I do. Do I believe Dwayne should walk away from this courtroom Scott free? Hell, no!”
“Objection! Your Honor!” Mr. Watkins face drained of all color as he stared at his witness on the stand. She may have just sealed his client’s fate with this little outburst. Not at all what he wanted or expected.
The court room went wild. “Order! Order in the court!”
Roark’s ears rang with the blaring last words from the judge as he tried to regain control. Making his way through the chaotic maze of people on his way out of the courtroom, Roark was torn. What he wouldn’t give to stay and hear the verdict. But he had to reach his wife. She couldn’t hear about this from someone else or some melodramatic news reporter. The mere fact Dwayne might get off with an insanity plea had been enough to send her into hysterics months ago.
That couldn’t happen again.
Not now.
The Truth ~
Shhhh…..she mentally scolded herself.
No noise.
Not a single tiny sound or he’ll hear.
She inhaled deep, the smell of fear swirling what little air circulated around her.
Don’t cry now. Don’t mess up. A simple breath, a sniffle, might draw his attention.
She had to get out.
She had to find her sister.
She just had to, before it was too late.
A bead of warm sweat dripped off the tip of her button nose as she worked the tight ropes secured around her tiny wrists. With each move, her tender flesh burned where the skin had been rubbed raw from her constant struggling, but she didn’t stop. She didn’t have much time left. He’d be back soon. She swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth.
He’d promised.
At the thought of how angry he’d be, she sat very still and tried to shrink into the shadows as she listened to the silence around her. It was a bit chilly now that most of the cotton bags had been removed, the air stale and damp and smelling of musty mildew. Small pinhole openings in the metal walls of her prison let in air from the outside, but it was barely enough to satisfy her need for precious oxygen. She had to remind herself to take in small amounts. She couldn’t afford to waste the air she had. Panic built over the fact that with every passing minute it was getting harder and harder to breathe.
This wasn’t what the bearded man with the green eyes promised at all. They were supposed to be on their way to a better life. He’d arrived at her home in their small village and told her family stories of how the other girls before them now sat in air conditioned houses, their closets full of new clothes, shoes of all colors and lots of toys. The ones willing to work extra hard even had maids of their own to serve them lemonade and fresh fruit whenever they wanted. Her mouth watered at the thought.
How long had it been since she’d eaten or had a drink of water? Her stomach growled and she shook her head, trying to keep her thoughts off how hungry she was.
No. This was nothing like the man said. What she wouldn’t give to be home with her brothers and sisters. Even with all the hard work and struggles, theirs was a happy family.
Maria thought back about the past twenty-four hours.
The first two were exciting compared to doing chores all day in the cotton fields. Maria loved new adventures. In the beginning, it had been hard telling her parents goodbye and getting her younger sister to stop crying because it was so dark in the back of the truck. To ease her own fears, she’d explained to Rosie that it would only be for a little while. That they were on their way to a better life and would be happier soon. The man her father had talked to promised to find them both a good job. One that made lots of money. Soon, after they paid off the rest of the debt for the price of their passage, they would be able to send what they earned back to their parents and eventually arrange for the entire family to join them in their new American home.
The long drive was uncomfortable as they huddled on the floor in the small alcove made beneath the heavy bags of cotton. But the trip to the local store with the big W on the front helped that feeling disappear along with Rosie’s tears. After entering the huge store, the nice lady accompanying their new boss told them to go buy some pretty bright pajamas for their first night in America. That’s when she saw excitement in Rosie’s eyes for the first time during the entire trip.
“There’s going to be a giant sleepover, where you’ll get to meet lots of other girls your age,” the lady said. It was a good thing Maria knew a little about American money, because the lady gave her two crisp twenty dollar bills before directing them to the girl’s department in the middle of the store. The lady hadn’t followed them. She waited at the front where you pay. When she and Rosie returned with their new pajamas, the lady made sure to keep her distance as they stood in line waiting their turn behind the other shoppers. The lady’s warning they not talk to anyone still rang loud in Maria’s ears. Their new life would be ruined. They’d be sent back to Mexico and their parents would go to jail. Thinking back now, Maria knew why the lady’s actions seemed so strange. She must have known the truth.
The trap door beneath the trailer bed of the huge semi-truck, where they’d crawled in for the last time after their brief shopping trip, had been sealed tight. Lots of worried thoughts sped through Maria’s mind as she’d wondered how they would get out, but she kept her fears locked away. She wanted to be strong for sweet Rosie.
A sob tightened Maria’s throat. Rosie.
Somewhere in the darkness, she heard the sound of a faint click. A door closing. A frission of fear skittered down her spine— followed by chills the size of pebbles, like the ones she and her older brother tossed into the small creek behind their house.
Was he back already?
Straining to hear and praying for it all to be a bad dream, she scooted back on her bottom until her tiny shoulders touched the cold metal wall of the truck. It was so dark she could barely make out the tips of her toes, leading her to believe they’d driven inside some kind of building. But she wasn’t certain.
It seemed like hours since they’d eased to a stop. That’s when something deep inside her screamed danger. After tossing most of the cotton out onto the floor, their new boss had made his way to the back of the trailer where she and Rosie crowded together on the floor. He’d told them to lie down with their hands behind them. Told them not to make a sound. They followed his orders. Let him tie them up and cover their mouths with the smelly tape. They’d been good girls just like he’d asked. So why? Why had he taken her sister anyway? Where did he take her?
Heavy footsteps and laughter filled the silence just beyond the cold metal walls. She sucked back another sob determined to be brave. An eerie feeling deep inside her soul told her she would never see Rosie again. That her life was going to be anything but beautiful.
The door at the back of the truck swung open, light dominating the darkness and all hopes and dreams of a better life vanished in the span of a broken breath.
***
He hunched deeper into the shadows, knowing if he was discovered there would be little chance of saving the last young girl or proving his innocence.
Especially from the grave.
It had been sheer luck that he’d stumbled across the warehouse when the shipment arrived. How many times had he sat across this very street watching, waiting, only to waste precious time better off used for hunting down the scum who killed easier than they breathed?
Memories haunted his very soul, but he pushed them back. The sadness would cripple him. As long as he kept the pain locked deep inside, he could function. He could make this right.
So far it had been easy. He’d intercepted the last transport vehicle and deceived the suspects without them ever knowing he wasn’t their original contact. Not only were these men stupid, they were way too comfortable with the transaction. That fact alone proved they’d participated in this little game numerous times.
His gut knotted.
There had been five young girls this time. Five. The numbers seemed to be increasing and he couldn’t help but wonder if all his efforts were in vain. Didn’t anybody care about these young girls? About what they were doing with them?
It just didn’t make sense.
The front door of the warehouse opened and two men emerged, laughing between themselves. He eased forward just enough to get a clear picture of their faces. He wanted their images engraved in his brain. So when the time came to end their worthless lives, there would be no second guessing, no mistakes.
Taking risky chances wasn’t his normal M.O. He never returned after botching up one of their transports. But the little girl…
He closed his eyes and pictured her sweet face.
Rosie. She’d said her name was Rosie. The other four in the van had been too frightened to speak, but not Rosie. She’d told him her entire story. Gave him names and details of where they’d come from and where they were headed. “They not know I speak English,” she’d said with a proud smile. “Papi said it was important to learn. So I learn.”
The men in the van had talked openly in front of the girls counting on the fact they wouldn’t be understood. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to see their shocked faces when these two found out they were to blame for their own downfall. Without even knowing, Rosie had given him the last piece of the puzzle—the name of the man behind it all.
Although the first was a code name and coincided perfectly with the evidence he’d collected on his last assignment, the last name she mentioned ripped through his soul like the jagged blade of a knife. He knew the man. He knew the man like the back of his hand.
Shit. He was going to enjoy taking this narcissistic sociopath down.
But first, he had to rescue Rosie’s sister. She’d been left behind in the warehouse for some reason. A reason he didn’t even want to consider.
The Traitor~
"How many this time?" Patrick Roark's deep voice echoed through the small office where he’d set up his private investigations office. Spring, Texas, was far enough off the radar to keep anyone from associating his agency with the Shelter. "Yes, bring them in. We have room."
Roark hung up the phone disgusted. How could people treat other human beings like this? At what point in their demented minds did they become better than those they traded and sold like cattle?
Years working with the FBI, and then the elite Immigration and Custom Enforcement squad of Homeland Security, had taught him one thing—these people weren't people at all. They were worse than animals. They were the ones without souls. The ones incapable of feeling anything but their own selfish greed.
He glanced at the photograph on his desk in front of him. Hailey, his precious wife of five years, had come so close to suffering this horrifying outcome, his blood pressure rose dangerously every time he thought about it. Fate had brought them together under the worst possible circumstances. Thanks to her courage and sheer determination to live, ICE managed to shut down one of the largest human trafficking rings being run in the States. But it didn’t come without consequences. Hailey relived her nightmare almost every night. The fact others were still suffering was something she just couldn’t get over. Even with the ring leader dead, and his brother locked away in an insane asylum, the trafficking organization was able to easily switch hands and continue on with a vengeance.
The damn demand was still there, so the supply just kept on coming. The reality of it all made him sick to his stomach. And in America? The land of the free? He shook his head biting off the string of curses on the tip of his tongue.
The earth seemed to be spinning on the wrong axis these days. The good guys were supposed to win. Dwayne Anderson getting off on an insanity plea after what he’d done to his own cousin’s husband was the icing on the proverbial cake.
Throw in the fact the brutality of this game had taken a turn for the worse over the last six months and Roark was reluctant to wonder what was in store next. The brothels housing the young girls from Mexico were getting harder to find, always seeming to be one step ahead of ICE. The raids came up empty. Signs verifying their suspicions were correct littered the dirty floors of these hell holes. But nothing living was left behind.
Someone was tipping them off. Someone with knowledge they shouldn't have. Roark didn’t like the implications spinning in his head.
Picking up the phone, he dialed the secure number to the safe house he and Hailey had set up for the rescued girls until their families could be found. "Hailey, we have five more on their way. Younger this time."
"Oh, Patrick.” The painful memories she carried with her impaled each word and tore through his soul. She not only sympathized with these victims, to a certain extent, she relived their nightmares with them. “Will this madness ever stop?"
"I know, sweetheart. This is hard. But we're getting closer. I can feel it."
"I hope you're right. I don't think I can continue this after the baby is born."
Roark's mind jumped to Hailey's growing belly. Their first child was due in less than a month. In all his wildest dreams, he never thought this would be possible. A husband and soon to be father. His life was so much fuller than he deserved. "Hang in there, love. Delaney will be able to handle everything. You know that. And you’ll be close by if she has any questions."
"I just feel like I'm letting them down. Like I should stick it out until we catch them." Her voice shook and he knew she was close to tears.
"We've talked about this. You can't stop it. All we can hope for is to make more people aware and save as many as we can."
"Well, I don't have to like it." This is what he loved about his wife. The reason he fell so hard and so fast for her. She was spunky. No and can't were not in her vocabulary.
When they'd talked about starting their own private organization to help combat human trafficking in the Houston area, he had no idea she'd take it this far. All the energy she once used to find and restore those priceless antiques was now drawn upon to hunt and repair the damage done by these cold-blooded monsters. Their group worked closely with the Texas Human Trafficking Prevention Task Force. Hailey's main goal became finding the routes the traffickers used and making it much more difficult for them to just pass through unnoticed. Hell, she even started staking out the truck stops on these highways with her camera in tow, taking photographs of license plates and anything that looked suspicious.
Her little surveillance tactics were working too. After several threatening phone calls and letters meant to intimidate, they'd gone underground as far as the investigating went. They’d moved three times over the past two years and their new home number and address were now unlisted. It had taken some doing, but calling in favors from his past contacts got their names, address and phone numbers pulled from the more easily accessible online records.
"No one likes it, Hailey.” He heard her huff under her breath and his heart swelled with pride. He'd bet she had her arms crossed just above that precious belly too. "How are you and the little one doing this morning?"
"Tired. We are very tired."
"That settles it. I'm on my way to pick you up and take you home. You need rest whether you like it or not." He smiled at her not so nice response about men and plopped open a file on his desk. Yep, she was his little spit fire and truth be told, he wouldn’t have her any other way. "Let me touch base with David Thomas, see what’s new on his end." David was an ex FBI agent now working for the US Marshals. He was the same lead agent who worked the case that changed Roark’s life forever.
“Have they found his partner yet?”
“No, but I think they have a new lead.” This mess all started years ago. David Thomas had been his FBI contact back when Roark joined the human trafficking squad run by Homeland Security. David warned him then of his suspicions a traitor might be working on the inside of the FBI.
“I sure hope so. You can’t stop what you can’t find.”
“You are always the voice of reason, sweetheart,” he said with a chuckle. A traitor on the inside. It was so hard to imagine. But that was the only explanation that made sense. His lead suspect back then, Dustin Anderson, had been tipped off prior to the arrival of his ICE unit that ill-fated night so many years ago. And it was more than probable that the lunatic had planned for the entire incident to go down just as it had.
When Roark closed his eyes at night, he could still see Dustin’s calling card, a single red rose lying on the coffee table. Then the sounds of the woman struggling for her life and the baby crying lured him back into the nightmare again and again. It was so dark on the second floor of the condo that night, so unbelievably dark he could barely make out his hand in front of his face. He should have waited for back up. But there was no time. He should have gotten there sooner. But the call had been misdirected. He should have known it was a trick. But he was too hell bent on catching the monster behind it all.
To this day, he still woke in a cold sweat, shaking with frustration and anger. Even knowing there might have been little he could have done to stop the tragedy, Roark still blamed himself for the death of the senator’s daughter and the disappearance of her baby. That one wrong turn gnawed through his gut like a horde of ravenous rats. If only he’d….
“The voice of reason will be waiting for you,” she snickered, lightening his mood to a mild sulk. “And tell David hello for me.”
He cleared his throat to mask the emotion. “You got it.” The knot in his chest tightened making him pause. “Hailey, I love you.”
“And we love you.”
Her sweet voice and iron will is what strengthened him daily and kept him going. Roark hung up the phone fighting his demons and wondering about David’s. The man had been one hell of an FBI agent. But after that botched up case and accusations of his partner’s involvement in it all, David had had enough. He left the FBI under an umbrella of suspicions. Many considered his leaving a sign of weakness or worse yet, a sign of guilt. Odds were, if his partner was bad, he too had given way to the dark side.
Roark met David’s partner, Robert Shaw, once at a Christmas party. He remembered Robert laughing and joking with his wife about the persuasion methods she’d used to convince him kids and them just made sense. Already three months along, she’d radiated with joy. That’s what made the news of her death so heartbreaking. It had been a brutal hit. A payback for Robert’s role in the undercover operation being run to bring down the leader of a huge gun smuggling cartel. Robert’s cover had been exposed and his sweet wife and baby paid the ultimate price.
Roark shivered at the thought of losing something that precious. Not to mention what the tragedy had done to Robert.
Even so, he didn’t believe for one second Robert was behind the FBI’s security leaks. Neither did the US Marshals office. They’d hired David on the spot and put him on the special task force working to flush out the informant. If the snitch was on the inside, David would find him. And heaven help the man who suffered David’s wrath.
So far, all the evidence pointed to David’s former partner. But it didn’t make sense. There were too many coincidences, too many raids still being sabotaged at the expense of these young girls. And Robert was on the run and in deep cover mode. So how were these tips still reaching the traffickers beforehand?
There were two options that had to be considered. Either Robert was an innocent man, or he wasn’t working alone.
Rumor on the street was the FBI had just received a huge break in the case. And Roark planned to help out anyway he could. Victoria, Texas was a huge hub for these assholes and their sadistic operations. Interstate 59 had become a direct link from Mexico to Houston— his territory.
He felt his stomach knot, the rage building and rolling inside like a furious boil.
With his own precious daughter only days from entering this world, he planned to make one hell of a dent in all this corruption.
***
Hailey pushed herself up and out of her extra cushioned chair, arching her back to relieve the pressure building on her tailbone. Boy, pregnancy sure did strange things to a person’s body. How could something so small cause such discomfort? Two weeks tops. That’s what her doctor said. That’s all the time she had left to get ready for the new baby and make sure Delaney had everything she needed to keep the safe house running smoothly.
Fourteen days wasn’t near enough time. There were still contacts to be made, flyers to be printed, and surveillance to be done.
The next tenants would be there shortly according to her husband. Younger this time? She shook her head. How on earth could people be so cruel, so detached from reality that another life meant so little. Especially an innocent child’s.
She swallowed back the tight knot forming in her throat and patted her ever moving belly. It still didn’t seem real. Her a mother? Life sure could throw you a curve when you least expected it. “Soon, little one. I’ll be able to hold you in my arms. Keep you safe.”
After they were married, she and Patrick had made the difficult decision not to have kids, concerned about potential damage done by the experimental drugs used to erase her memory during her kidnapping. There had never been a way to test these drugs for content. When the headaches stopped their brutal attacks, they’d thought she was in the clear. But then the terrible cramping started. For weeks her body went through some kind of withdrawal. The last thing they wanted was to bring a child into the world that might not make it or have severe disabilities.
But fate stepped in and decided for them.
She smiled, pushing a foot, or maybe it was an elbow, down out of her ribcage. “You’re a feisty little bugger. I’ll give you that.” Thank goodness the tests her ob-gyn ran showed no signs of anything out of the ordinary. And she’d made them run every test twice. They were due to have a healthy seven or eight pound baby girl and they both could barely stand to wait another second, much less two more weeks.
“Hailey, they’re here!” Delaney stuck her head in the door as she passed by on her way to the front door. “How are you feeling, momma?”
“I’m fine. Just wish my feet wouldn’t swell up like a pair of blowfish.”
Delaney laughed. “Well, stay here, kick those feet up. I can get this.”
With a heavy sigh, Hailey picked up the box of stuffed animals she’d collected from various churches for the cause. “You know I can’t do that. It’s those control issues again.”
“Suit yourself. Just take it slow, okay? We don’t want the little one coming before her time.”
“I will. I promise. Let me catch my breath and I’ll be right behind you.” She watched her friend hurry off as the bell sounded for the third time and thought about the children on the other side of the door. These fluffy toys always seemed to help them cope with their tragedy somehow, which made little sense to her. There wasn’t a day that went by that Hailey didn’t relive her own nightmare. She stroked the soft fur of the pure white puppy and wished a simple stuffed animal was all it took to help her forget. Chills raced over her skin at the thought of Dustin’s cruel laugh and what he’d planned to do to her and with her.
She shook her head and scolded her lack of restraint. “No time. Get a grip.” That part of her life was off limits. Had been for five years. These young girls needed support and compassion more than anything right now. There wasn’t any room for her emotions to get in the way. Helping them deal with their pain and scars was so much more important than anything she’d gone through. Shifting the box to her hip, she waddled to the foyer, trying her best to put on a pleasant smile.
“Buenos Dias. Por favor entren,” Delaney said, squatting down in front of five of the sweetest little girls Hailey had ever seen. Their dark eyes were huge with fear, the smallest hiding behind the tallest of the four.
Hailey sat the box of toys on the chair by the door and turned back around to find the littlest girl’s eyes locked on her big belly. She looked to be all of five, maybe. So frail, so scared.
The next thing Hailey knew, the little girl had moved to stand in front of her. There was no way Hailey could bend over much less squat, so she smiled and lifted the biggest stuffed puppy from the box. Then handed it to the little girl. “This is for you.”
Delaney’s soft voice echoed beside her. “Esto es para usted.”
The little girl looked over at Delaney and hesitated, but took the puppy, her eyes darting back and forth around the room as if she were afraid someone would jump out and scold her.
“You’re safe.” Hailey wished for the millionth time she’d taken Spanish instead of French in high school. It sure would be paying off now.
“Ahora estás a salvo,” Delaney repeated.
The little girl lowered her head and said three muffled words. “M-my sister not.”
Hailey’s heart leaped to her throat. “You speak English?”
“Si. Little.” Her tiny voice sent Hailey’s emotions into a frenzy.
“What is your name, sweetie?”
“Rosie.” The little girl lifted her right hand and rested it on Hailey’s belly, her eyes misty pools. “Mama have baby too.”
It took all Hailey had not to burst into tears when she noticed the welts around the little girl’s wrist. Oh, dear, God. Some bastard had tied this tiny little girl up. Her voice shook. “Good, Rosie. And your sister? Where is she?”
***
An excerpt from Target of Betrayal
By Melissa Ohnoutka
Chapter One
How could I have been so wrong?
United States Marshal David Thomas was known throughout the Houston Bureau and surrounding districts for his excellent judge of character as well as his willingness to take on the most dangerous gut wrenching cases. And his men knew the risks, were trained for them.
But a civilian?
His jaw tensed and ached beneath the building pressure. Perhaps he was slipping. Maybe losing his edge after all these years of working to bring down the scum of the earth. He felt his pulse increase with each deep breath, but he couldn’t stop the reaction. His fingers tightened on the pencil in his left hand and snapped it in two like a toothpick.
Others trust my instincts with their lives.
Horrible images of his last case with the FBI bombarded his control. Human trafficking was not something he ever wanted to deal with again. And he’d thought he’d put the incident behind him. Now he wasn’t so sure. The idea of what the senator’s daughter had been put through before she drew in her last breath still haunted his soul.
The fact he might have met his match still didn’t sit well with him.
David flicked a fatigued gaze to the lone photo on his desk, and twinges of sickening regret coiled high and tight in his chest. Even after the horrific details and reality of that last assignment, the Landon case was the one most unbearable. With every new development, a sharp knife-like pain twisted in his gut, producing another gaping hole.
The leather chair creaked in protest with the sudden shift of his weight as he straightened to relieve the pressure and an intense awareness prickled the back of his neck.
He glanced up. “Hell, Mark. How long have you been standing there watching me?” David scowled over the stack of papers cluttering the front end of his desk.
“Long enough.” His friend and partner, Mark Bishop, stood warily in the doorway, shaking his head.
David swallowed back another expletive. “Details. Give me details.” He studied his friend of ten years. The twitch above Mark’s right eye hinted to more trouble. Trouble they couldn’t afford.
“It has to do with the Landon case,” Mark said, moving into the room and stopping inches from the desk.
“What now?”
“A man matching Robert’s description was spotted speaking with Ms. Landon at the local mall five days ago.”
“No, shit?” David drew in a deep breath—and held it. Glaring into the hallway, he tried to ignore the irritation taking root. This madness had to stop. Over the fifteen year span of his career, David had never engrossed himself in a case to such an extreme it threatened his health. But this one had done just that. He barely consumed enough food daily to keep his strength up, and had a tough time remembering when he’d obtained the good night sleep he so desperately needed. “Five days ago? In Victoria?” David couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“I don't get it either.” Mark shrugged his shoulders.
“This is bullshit.” David gripped his desk with both hands, the wheels of his chair clacking against the tiled floor as he stood, his six foot three frame overpowering the small office. “Is there a reason we weren’t notified earlier?” He tore through the files stacked on the corner of his desk and plopped the worn Landon case folder open.
“I’m not sure,” Mark said, clearing his throat. “I’ve got several men checking on that right now.”
“Good luck with that, my friend.” David growled under his breath. Everything was falling apart, bit by bit. Tension churned the air, a mix of anger and frustration swirling together and spinning out of control. Leaning forward with both palms flat on his desk, he studied the newspaper clipping stapled to the inside of the manila folder. Heart wrenching images of his friend’s wife and two kids standing in front of that cold silver casket sent the knot forming in his throat to his gut as he reread over the obituary.
He coughed to mask the strong surge of emotion. “We were supposed to have sufficient time to get everything in order.” What little restraint remained, threatened to vanish. “Who the hell is this informant anyway?” With each passing day, the danger for this family accelerated outside the boundaries of reality.
“David,” Mark said. “If we hurry, we can still reach her and the kids in time.” His partner stepped forward and placed a warm hand on David’s shoulder, seizing his undivided attention. “We’re gonna beat these guys. I’ve seen you in action too many times to think otherwise. This is just a minor setback.”
David had known Mark for longer than he cared to admit and worked closely with him on some of the most touch-and-go cases ever to come through the agency. Their relationship stretched far beyond the realm of co-workers.
In fact, when David stormed out of Special Agent in Charge Bill Kendall’s office over six years ago and quit the FBI, Mark hadn’t hesitated. He’d followed suit, never once looked back or questioned David’s motives. Within weeks of their unexpected departure, the head of the Internal Investigations Office called to obtain their services. A top-secret investigation was underway to expose the multiple security leaks plaguing the Houston FBI field office run by Bill Kendall.
The big boss wanted David, now a United States Marshal in the Special Operations Group, to help. The human trafficking rings always seemed to be one step ahead of the raids. If there was a way to find out who was on the inside feeding their main targets information, David was their man.
No one more determined to end the deadly leaks existed. After all, it was personal now.
“I just don’t get it. Why the hell would Robert do this?”
“I’m still not buying it,” Mark said. “We’re missing something.”
Fingers working the bridge of his nose, David pinched back the pressure as a strange new silence crept into the room. He lifted his head and met his partner’s gaze. “Yeah, me either. I can’t believe Robert had anything to do with this. Someone with his training wouldn't allow emotions to interfere. And he’d never hurt a child.”
David tried to erase the doubts. All the evidence pointed to his previous partner, but it just didn’t make sense. It took some kind of sick bastard to sell and use people like that. Especially children. No. He would never believe Robert had crossed over to the dark side.
“Robert’s contacting her directly has put them all in immediate danger. I should have seen this coming. I should have already put her in protective custody.” David glanced back at the folder, at the image of his friend’s broken family.
“We all missed it, David.”
“Yeah, well I shouldn’t have. Charter the next flight. Make reservations for five of our best men. Do whatever it takes to get us to Victoria, Texas. Fast.” His voice was calmer, but the anger kindled just below the surface.
“Consider it done.” Mark turned to leave then stopped just inside the doorway as if he wanted to say something. Nothing Mark said would bring back the innocent lives or change the horrible outcomes. This was all part of the job. What David wanted, no needed, was strength and determination to see this to the end.
“Just go, Mark,” he said.
With a nod, his partner walked away, leaving David alone with the distressing memories. “What’s next, Robert?” he mumbled, staring at the bulging veins on the back of his hands.
Robert made the most reckless decision of his career.
He’d contacted the victim.
The surging anger finally got the best of him. He slammed the folder closed and pounded both fists against the desk. Papers scattered, flying into the air like New Year’s Eve confetti and then drifted to the floor.
One by one.
He let his body sink deep into his chair as he shoved away the mounting guilt and his eyes drifted back to the wooden framed photo perched in the middle of all the chaos. The haunting image of his friend pleaded with him to make things right.
With a quick swipe, he plucked the frame free from the mess and glared at the photograph. The memory of that day on his fishing boat, so long ago, was still fresh in his mind.
It seemed like only yesterday.
He studied the man beside him in the photo. Nick Landon, a friend since the time they could walk, struggled to hold a ten-foot broadbill swordfish, the others in their party posing around him, taunting and teasing. The one-hundred-sixty pound monster was their catch of the year, one they’d celebrated like some kind of long awaited victory.
So important back then, but now? So irrelevant.
Senseless violence ended a good main’s life and threatened to destroy even more. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to Nick’s precious family because of his negligence. He should have stayed on top of the situation instead of allowing the FBI to handle it.
Especially since his gut told him the informant was hiding high up in the ranks. The inaccuracy of their information was too detailed to be an honest mistake. Robert Shaw shouldn’t be anywhere near Victoria, Texas.
The knot in his gut tightened. “Once again, you’ve outsmarted me.”
He grabbed his chest with his left hand and waited for the burning sensation to dissipate. His poor lunch choice made him regret taking the time to scarf down the burrito Mark insisted was the best thing this side of the border. Eating was highly over-rated in his opinion. Give him a pill filled with all the vitamins and nutrients needed and he’d be good to go.
Gritting his teeth, he took one last look at the picture and then placed it in his top drawer, whacking it closed in a futile attempt to silence the voices in his head.
With a good cleansing breath he stood, grabbed his gun and shoved it into the holster secured around his chest. Outsmarted maybe, but not defeated. He lifted his jacket from the coat rack, jerked his office door shut, rattling the pictures on the outer wall and prepared for the fight of his life.
This would be the last time.
***
The sudden drop of David’s stomach woke him. He straightened in his seat, yawned, and stretched his arms over his head—somewhat rested by the catnap.
Mark eyed him from across the isle of the twin-engine turbo prop King Air they chartered for the flight. “Well, good morning, sunshine.”
With a grunt, David ignored the comment and studied the Victoria airport as the plane descended. The entire airstrip consisted of only one terminal. But large vacant hangers and runways still lined the facility from its original use as a military base years ago.
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