Page 56 of The Senator: Raphael

We enter the diner and take the most secluded booth. Dave goes to the counter to order our drinks, and fries for Jenny, asking the waitress not to bother us. It’s always like this with her. She won’t talk if someone may be eavesdropping on our conversation, but she wants to be in a public place and not alone with me. She’s probably scared I’ll bring her back to her parents and wants to have an out. I’ve told her I wouldn’t do that, but she doesn’t trust me. She doesn’t trust anyone.

“You wanted to talk, go ahead,” I tell her when she doesn’t speak for a long while.

She looks at me and shivers a bit. It’s June, but she seems cold, and her gold sparkling dress is not covering nearly enough. I take a good look at her under the bright lights of this place and my heart sinks a bit. She looks skinnier than the last time I saw her, and the heavy makeup does little to cover the dark circles under her eyes. If I wasn’t familiar with the brothel where she works, where they test regularly for STDs and drugs, I’d be worried she’s become a junkie. I take off my jacket and offer it to her, but she shakes her head, refusing to wear it.

“There’s a new girl,” she practically whispers.

I nod and take in this news. Usually, when she calls it’s to tell me something bad happened, and I don’t know why this time I hoped it would be different.

“Okay, do you know anything more about that?” I ask, not really wanting to know the details. Every time she brings me news, I feel sick.

“She has a tattoo like the other one. On her foot.”

I nod and wait for Dave to put our orders on the table and walk away.

“She doesn’t speak English. She’s from South America, but I don’t know where exactly. We both speak a little Spanish and sometimes it’s hard to understand each other,” she explains.

“She came straight from another country?” This is new. Usually, they deal with girls that are in the United States long enough to be able to speak enough basic English to understand their clients’ requests.

“She told me they put her on a boat back in her country, and when she arrived, she had to walk all night through a swamp infested by mosquitoes and alligators,” she adds and knows this is important. She’s been feeding me this information for years, and I taught her what to ask the girls and what’s important to know. She’s good at it, but tonight something is bothering her.

“Is there something more?” My stomach twists in a hurtful grip because I know I won’t like it. I can see the fear in her eyes.

Years ago, when I agreed to do this, I thought it would be an easy job to hand over this information to people who could snuff out this nightmare. But I wasn’t prepared for the stories I would hear while doing it. Sometimes I want to throw up at the thought of what these girls endure.

“She said other girls were with her, but only a few survived. They died on the boat. For days, she had to endure the trip alongside those dead girls. They also beat and raped her,” she whispers and I reach out my hand to squeeze hers.

“We’re going to find the people that did this to her. I promise.” My voice shakes, because every time I think about what she’s told me over the years I want to curl up in a corner and erase the information from my brain. I think I’m reaching the limit of what I can handle.

***

After dropping Jenny back at the club, I go straight to the warehouse I brought Silver to months ago. So much has changed since last time I was here it feels like a lifetime ago. The only memory branded in my brain is the excruciating pain when she kicked me in the balls.Thatis something I will never forget.

Dave knocks a couple of times on the tinted window of the SUV and I know I have to get out of the car. As soon as my feet hit the bare concrete, I can see the outline of the FBI agent walking toward me. I’ve known him for years and never saw him arrive in a car. It’s like he just materializes a hundred yards from where my car is parked, like I summoned a ghost. And maybe he is a ghost, considering what a nightmare his job is.

“I thought you forgot about me.” He smirks as he approaches, dressed in loose jeans, a black hoodie, and a black baseball cap. He looks like one of the hundreds of homeless people walking around Los Angeles, just a bit cleaner and showered. Even his beard is out of control. I guess this look helps to not attract attention.

“I haven’t see her for a while.”

He nods, becoming more serious.

“Maybe after the last bust they laid low?” I try to figure out if Jenny is missing something.

“We hit them hard last time. They need time to regroup,” he confirms.

Something stirs in my chest: hope. Maybe we are doing something good here. Maybe we have been saving lives. Trying to stop human trafficking sometimes feel hopeless. You stop one criminal organization somewhere and another ten pop up overnight to take their place. Sometimes it feels a lost cause, but then I think of the ones who got free and a bit of hope blooms again in my chest. It’s a continuous rollercoaster I never get used to.

“Well, I think they’re active again, but with something different.” I get his full attention. “There’s a new girl, same tattoo as the other, but she didn’t come on a truck like the others, she came in a boat, dumped off in a swamp. She had to walk through mosquitos and alligators.”

He seems to think a lot about it. “They must have someone local helping them navigate the swamps. Otherwise, they would have ended up dead,” he murmurs and I can hear the defeat in his voice. It’s barely there, an underlying feeling that escaped his chest.

“I thought so. There were more girls with her, but just a few survived. The others died during the trip from South America.”

I can relate to the grimace on his face. “Did she say how many? Where did they bring her after she walked out of the swamp?” he asks, almost expecting I’ll have all the answers. I know his frustration.

I shake my head. “She barely speaks a few words of Spanish. It was difficult to communicate.”

He snaps his head toward me. “Brazilian?” There’s hope in his voice. Knowing where she comes from means he can track where the boat dumped her. Satellites give you very little privacy these days.

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