Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Hey. Clay said Winter is feeling better.”
“Totally back to normal.”
“Good.” She waves her hand toward the hall. “They’re in the office.”
“Thanks.” I shoot her a smile and head in that direction.
When I step into the office, Clay is sitting behind his desk, and Tucker is standing, holding a stack of papers. I take a seat in one of the chairs, and Tucker passes the papers to me.
I shuffle through them and frown. It looks like work visas for about a dozen women. “What is this?”
“World Church has an organization called World United, which offers work visas to women to come to the US to clean, cook, and babysit,” Clay says, and I glance up at Tucker, who is now hyper-focused on Clay. “They’ve had this organization for the last five years, and since then, only about half of the women who came have gone back to their home countries.”
“What the fuck?”
“From what I’ve been able to find out, World United has put in claims that the women who go missing just bail on their contracts and run off to start lives in the US illegally. But like you’re probably already assuming, that is not the case. Those women” —he nods to the papers in my hand—“have had zero contact with their families. And even during the start of their work visas, not one of them sent a penny home, when that was the whole point of them coming here to work.”
“So, the church is legally kidnapping women from other countries.”
“It’s smart,” Clay mumbles, and I can see he’s barely holding onto the rage he’s feeling. “So fucking smart. They’re immigrants. Most people wouldn’t care they’re missing, or they would assume what the organization is saying is correct—they ran and are now living somewhere else illegally.” He shakes his head. “And their families aren’t here to ask questions or demand answers from the police.”
“Jesus.” I look back down at the papers I’m holding, at the faces of the women, all young, pretty, hopeful. None of them having a clue what they were signing up for, all of them probably sure they were working toward a better life.
“The calls going into dispatch and being rerouted?” Tucker prompts.
“Even after digging around in the emergency services system, I couldn’t find anything on them. Most likely, they are deleted immediately. My guess is from time to time, one of the women gets ahold of a phone to reach out for help.”
“And then one of Stedman’s crew steps in.” I swallow over the bile crawling up my throat. “This is bigger than just police corruption.”
“Way bigger,” Clay agrees, and I look up at Tucker.
“Who’s the weakest link in Stedman’s crew?”
“Hanson. He just got married and had a baby,” he says immediately, obviously thinking about it for a while now.
“We need to tell Axel so he can bring him in and see if he can get Hanson to flip.”
I focus back on Clay. “Can you find these women?” I lift the papers I’m still holding onto.
“I’m already working on it.” His grin is scary. “One way or another, I’m getting them out before shit hits the fan.”
“Good.” Normally, that wouldn’t be my response to him stepping in on an official case, but under these circumstances, we need his help. Without someone on the inside who’s been working undercover for a while, it’s going to be difficult for us to track down each of the women and find where they’re being kept.
After a call with Axel, in which he agrees to bring in Hanson, Tucker and I leave Clay’s place. Neither of us told Axel about Clay stepping in to find the women, nor that he would be getting them out if possible. Axel might approve us using outside resources on a case from time to time, but he would be pissed if he found out Clay would be removing possible witnesses.
I get it, but who knows what might happen to those women if they’re not found before we blow the roof off the organization. At best, they get out and are sent home. At worst, they disappear and are never heard from again. The latter is the most likely scenario when dealing with this kind of situation, a situation where the stakes are high, and people are desperate to avoid being convicted of a crime.
When I get downstairs, I lock up and shut everything down, then head into the bedroom, where Em is still sitting up with her computer.
“Everything okay?” she asks, her eyes scanning my face.
“Yeah.” I take off my shirt and walk toward the bathroom. “I’m gonna jump into the shower.”
After starting the water, I kick off my shorts and toss them toward the laundry basket, then step into the glass stall. Closing my eyes, I let the hot water pound against the top of my head and shoulders in an attempt to beat away some of the tension now coiled around my muscles.