Anybody's Daughter (Angela Evans Series No. 2) (13 page)

B
rianna awoke to the sound of laughter. It took her eyes almost a full minute to come into focus. Every inch of her body ached and she was woozy with hunger pains. She glanced at her surroundings and nothing looked familiar.

She was no longer on a mattress in a cold, dark room. This place looked like an actual bedroom. She was sprawled on a twin bed now. There was another bed across the room. Piles of clothes littered the floor. A boxy, older-model TV sat on a dresser at the foot of the bed.

“Hey, sleepyhead. ’Bout time you woke up.”

A face she didn’t recognize was peering down at her.

“What’s your name?” the girl asked. She was wearing so much makeup she looked like a brown-skinned clown.

“Brianna,” she said, realizing that it hurt to talk. Her throat felt like it was on fire.

“I’m Kym and you already met Tameka.” Kym pointed toward a girl standing in the doorway. She hadn’t been there a second ago. Or had she?

“You must’a really messed up bad, cuz you got hit in the face. They don’t never hit us in the face. It’s gonna take a whole lot of makeup to cover up them bruises.”

Brianna pressed her hand to her face and winced. Even the lightest touch fired sharp jabs of pain in all directions. She remembered now. Clint had beaten her up. He had stopped when she’d faked an asthma attack. She had no recollection of how she got to this room though. They must have drugged her again.

“You have to help me get out of here.” Brianna began to cry. “I don’t belong here.”

Both of the girls laughed. “Don’t worry you’ll get used to it. You’re in the life now, girl. So just deal with it.”

“What are you talking about? What life?”

“Just wait,” Kym said. “After a while, you won’t even miss the square world.”

Brianna felt like these girls were talking in code. She managed to sit up, but did not have full control of her body and fell back onto the bed. She also did not remember changing into the cut-off shorts and bra-like top that she was wearing now.

“Freda gave you a shot,” Kym said. “Enjoy the high cuz it’ll wear off soon.”

“Where’s Kaylee?”

“She was here a while ago, but she left to go on a date. She’s working tonight.”

Brianna shivered at the thought of Kaylee having sex with some stranger.

“My mama’s looking for me,” Brianna cried. “I have to get out of here.”

Tameka laughed. “Your mama ain’t lookin’ for you, girl. She’s probably in bed with her boyfriend right now, not even thinking about you.”

“My mother doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Brianna shot back.

“So she’s gay?” Kym asked.

“No!”

“Don’t try to act like you’re all goody-two-shoes,” Kym said. “What we do ain’t no big deal. Clint and Freda buy us lots of stuff.” She stuck out her arm. “Look at my new bracelet. On Saturday, we’re going to get our nails done. If you act right, they might let you come too.”

“I don’t need nobody to buy me nothing!” Brianna shouted. “I just wanna go home!”

“You really don’t get it,” Tameka said. “They ain’t lettin’ you go home.” Her tight leather skirt barely covered her privates. Her thin top was stretched tight over her protruding belly.

“I have to get to work.” Tameka yawned. “I got the lunch crowd today.”

“Take me with you!” Brianna begged.

“You can’t do the lunch crowd yet,” Tameka said gently. “You gotta pay your dues first.”

Tameka bounded out of the room.

Brianna looked all around. “Where are we?”

“Don’t matter,” Kym said. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“If it don’t matter, then tell me. Where are we?”

“Somewhere in the San Fernando Valley,” Kym said. “That’s all I know. From the backyard, you can see the mountains. You need to be glad you ain’t in the hood no more. If you don’t act right, they might take you back there. It’s way nicer here.”

“Why do you stay here? Why don’t you run away?”

“And go where? This is way better than the projects. I hate Nickerson Gardens.”

“Don’t you miss your family?”

“Hell naw. And they don’t miss me. My mama’s too busy getting high and I got tired of all her boyfriends trying to have sex with me. This is my family. I have a daddy now and a lot of wives-in-law. Everybody in here is tight. It’s all good.”

Brianna had no idea what a wife-in-law was. “But they make you have sex with men. How can you do that?”

“To get paid.” Kym looked at Brianna with her face in a scrunch. “It’s just sex. You can make more money in one night doing what we do than you can make in two weeks slaving at Wal-Mart. You’ll see.”

Brianna had to get this girl to understand that she would never
see
. “I’m not doing that!”

“You should’ve never run away from home then,” Kym said.

“I didn’t run away. They kidnapped me!” Brianna began to cry again. “I thought I was going to meet Jaden.”

Kym slapped her thigh and started laughing. “You one of them girls that got scammed. I can’t believe you fell for that. You stupid.”

Just then, Freda stepped into the room.

“Good to see you’re awake. Hopefully, that beatin’ Clint gave you will make you a little more cooperative. You can’t go around biting and scratching people.”

Brianna eyed the woman. If she got close enough, she would claw her face again.

“We’re putting you to work tomorrow,” Freda said. “So get ready.”

B
onnie Flanagan watched the clock on the wall of her classroom like it might self-destruct any second. When the bell finally rang signaling the end of the period, she charged straight for the administration office. She walked right past the school secretary and barged into the principal’s office without bothering to knock.

“Did you hear about Brianna Walker?” she asked, wringing her hands. “Her uncle came by this morning. She’s missing. All the kids are talking about it. It’s happening again.”

In her early fifties, Bonnie looked good for her age but had the body of a borderline anorexic. One of a handful of white teachers at Maverick Middle School, Bonnie considered teaching a calling. She cared about her students as if she’d birthed them herself.

Manuel Ortiz took his time swiveling his chair around to face her. Most teachers were afraid of Mr. Ortiz, with his sunbaked, pockmarked skin and badly receding hairline. But Bonnie not only had close to thirty years of teaching under her belt, she had home-grown bravado acquired on the streets of South Boston. There was nothing the principal could do to her and if he did try something, she’d sue his fat butt.

“Please don’t tell me you’re back in here with that crazy theory of yours again.”

“Brianna would make the fourth girl from this school to go missing in the last eighteen months.” Bonnie’s aqua-blue eyes were near tears. “I don’t understand why you’re ignoring it.”

“I’m ignoring it because there’s no connection. I heard some of the kids talking about it this morning. Brianna Walker supposedly ran off with some boy on Facebook. I have to say, though, I
am
a little surprised. I pegged her for a good girl.”

“She
is
a good girl. We need to contact the police. For some reason they haven’t made the connection. Somebody’s snatching our girls.”

“Like I told you the last time you came in here with this nonsense, I’m not going to the police and neither are you. And I hope you didn’t mention your unsubstantiated theory to Brianna’s uncle. Did you?”

Bonnie grimaced, then slowly shook her head. She had wanted to share the information with Brianna’s uncle, but feared Ortiz’s wrath.

“Do you know how many schools in Compton have the honor of being a California Distinguished School? Just one. Maverick Middle School. My school. We don’t need the bad publicity.”

“Oh, I get it. It’s all about you. You’re looking for your next promotion.”

Everyone knew that Ortiz was dying to be Superintendent. There were rumors that he’d been accused of inappropriate contact with a tenth grader when he was an assistant principal at Centennial High School. Bonnie doubted the stories. There was no way he’d continue to be so affectionate with the students if he’d gone through that kind of ordeal. But then again, Ortiz was arrogant enough to think that he was untouchable.

“It’s not about me,” Ortiz huffed. “It’s about the students. And they don’t need this kind of bad press. Not when you have absolutely no facts to go on.”

“Well, we should at least let Brianna’s mother know about the other girls.”

Ortiz leaned in and pointed a fat finger across the desk. “You’re not talking to anybody. Do you understand?”

Bonnie wasn’t crazy. There was a connection. There had to be. She’d taught three of the four girls. They were all smart and well-behaved. Girls like that didn’t run off.

Bonnie left the principal’s office and walked across the hall to see if the assistant principal was in. She again entered without knocking.

“Sometimes, I want to choke that fat pig,” she said, flopping into a chair in front of Richard Wainright’s desk.

“And good morning to you too,” he said with a curious smile. A slender man with lush black hair, he appeared unusually tall even from a sitting position. “What did our illustrious principal do to piss you off today?”

Richard Wainright was Ortiz’s second in command. The teachers liked him because he never took sides. He stayed out of any political mess and you could always count on him to do the right thing where the kids were concerned.

“He still refuses to tell the police about those other missing girls,” Bonnie said. “We should’ve told Brianna’s uncle about them.”

Wainright closed a folder and set it aside. “No, we shouldn’t have.”

He had heard Bonnie’s theory before and, like Ortiz, discounted it.

“We have absolutely no evidence to support a link between those cases,” Wainright said. “Why upset the family like that? For all we know, Brianna may have actually run off. It’s hard to know what these kids are doing on the Internet.”

“Did you hear anything her uncle said? There is no
boy
. It was probably some sexual predator.”

Wainright tugged at his expensive tie. He always dressed as if he was on his way to some important social affair. Today, he was wearing a stylish navy-blue three-piece. All the other teachers assumed that Wainright had family money. Only Bonnie knew the truth. Wainright had confided in her that he had his broker’s license and regularly sold real estate on the side.

“Four girls have gone missing in eighteen months,” Bonnie pressed. “Somebody’s kidnapping our girls.”

“But what
evidence
do you have that they’ve been kidnapped?”

“I don’t have any evidence,” Bonnie snapped. “I just have a feeling.”

Wainright’s forehead creased. “And that’s what you told Ortiz?”

“Yes, and he ordered me not to contact the police or Brianna’s family.”

“C’mon, Bonnie. We just got our rating as a Distinguished School. We don’t need this kind of publicity.”

“You sound just like him,” Bonnie sniffed. “I don’t understand why you’re so afraid of him.”

Wainright bristled. “I’m not afraid of him. I just find it more productive to stay on his good side. I like it here. I’ve seen Ortiz ship people out of here for looking at him the wrong way. You might want to think about that.”

“I thought you, of all people, cared about our students. We’re obligated by law to report any suspicion of harm to a child.”

“That’s not fair,” Wainright sputtered. “You know I care about our kids just as much as you do. If you had some evidence to support this gut feeling of yours, I’d call the police myself.”

Bonnie’s shoulders drooped. She wasn’t crazy. And she didn’t care what Ortiz, Wainright, or anybody else had to say.

Somebody was kidnapping their girls.

S
ince getting word of Brianna’s disappearance, Dre had been surviving on caffeine as his primary source of energy and he had a visible case of the shakes to prove it.

Following the failed rescue on 67th Street, Dre had parted ways with Apache, but told him to remain on standby. He needed some time alone to contemplate his next move. He would find out if Angela knew how to get in contact with Loretha Johnson. Maybe one of Angela’s clients had stayed at Loretha’s home. He’d forgotten to ask her when they’d talked earlier. It was getting harder and harder for him to think straight.

Dre had expected to have heard from The Shepherd by now. Obviously calling him out all over town had not been enough to smoke him out.

Sitting in his Jetta on Adams in front of The Cork, his favorite neighborhood hangout, Dre leaned his head back against the headrest. For the first time since this ordeal had begun, he took a moment to pray in earnest. He’d done some bad things in his life, so he had some nerve asking for God’s help. But he swore to the Big Man that if he got Brianna back safe, he wouldn’t even jaywalk.

He climbed out of the car and headed into the darkened restaurant and bar.

“What’s up, my brother?” The burly bouncer waved him through without a pat down. “You look like crap. You okay?”

Dre hadn’t had a bath or shaved since learning of Brianna’s disappearance and didn’t want to know what he looked like.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He stepped inside and took a seat at the bar. The soft jazz calmed him. While he hoped to hear from Shep soon, his next move was to focus on finding Loretha Johnson. He’d head back to the track in Compton later tonight to look for her.

Dottie eyed him from the other side of the bar. “You okay?”

Dre fidgeted with his hands. “Nope.”

Dottie was barely five-feet and smiled more than anyone Dre had ever met. Their friendship went all the way back to high school.

“Can I help?”

“I wish you could,” he said. “For now, how about some red beans ‘n rice?”

Dottie left to place his order and returned with a Pepsi without Dre having to ask for it.

“You wanna talk about it?”

He’d almost gotten with Dottie once, a long, long time ago. But he came to his senses and decided that he didn’t need to mess up a good friendship.

“Somebody snatched my niece, Brianna. Some dude who considers himself a pimp. He’s trafficking little girls like they’re crack.” Dre paused. “I’m going to get her back and then I’m going to kill him.”

Dottie covered her mouth, then dropped her eyes. Something in her face conveyed more than shock.

“You know something?” Dre asked.

“Who’s the pimp?” she asked softly.

“Rodney Merriweather. They call him The Shepherd.”

Dottie closed her eyes then slowly swung her head from left to right. “That’s bad news. Really bad news.”

Dre sat up straighter on his stool. “You know him?”

“Only from what I’ve heard from people sitting where you are. He’s taken the pimping game to a whole new level. He’s heartless.”

“You know where I can find him?”

She shook her head. “I hear he’s very secretive. Some of the people closest to him don’t even know where he lives.”

Another waitress set a plate in front of him. Dre scooped a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

“I’m looking for this woman he used to pimp,” Dre said, talking and chewing. “I’m hoping she might have some useful information. Her name’s Loretha Johnson. You heard of her?”

Dottie’s face brightened. “Yeah. She runs Harmony House. My church, West Angeles, donates food and clothing to her place.”

Dre stopped chewing and set down his fork. “You know where the house is?”

“You can’t go there. It’s like a safe house. Nobody’s supposed to even know that the girls stay there. If you show up, they’ll think you’re up to no good. Loretha don’t play.”

“Just tell me where it is. I really need to speak to her.”

Dottie stuck her hands into the pockets of her jeans and waited several beats. “It’s not far from here. In Lafayette Square. It’s one of those big old houses with wood paneling and tons of bedrooms. I think up to fourteen girls live there at a time.”

“You have the address?”

“I told you. You can’t go there.”

“I don’t plan to. I just want to talk to Loretha. I’ll wait until she leaves and talk to her away from the house. I promise. So do you have the address?”

Dottie looked off. “No,” she said uneasily. “But I can probably get it from one of my church members. How about if I just get you Loretha’s telephone number instead?”

“How about if you get me her number
and
her address? I promise you, I’ll call first.”

Dottie still appeared hesitant.

Dre leaned in over the bar. “Please. She may be my best shot at finding my niece.”