Anybody's Daughter (Angela Evans Series No. 2) (29 page)

D
re and Apache ran from the house, carrying Freda by her forearms.

Mossy started the engine the second he saw the huge gates surrounding the house swing open.

“Who the hell is that?” Mossy asked.

Dre didn’t have time to provide an explanation. He shoved Freda into the backseat, while Apache entered from the opposite side. They tied Freda’s arms with a rope, then shoved her down on the floor.

“This is kidnapping!” Freda yelled. “You’re going to jail!”

“You ain’t calling no police,” Apache said. “Cuz if you do, you gotta explain what you been doin’ to them girls.”

“Maybe now you understand how it feels to be kidnapped,” Dre yelled at her. “Now tell us how to get to the Wyndgate!”

* * *

They reached the motel in about ten minutes.

“Which room is she in?” Dre demanded.

“I don’t know.”

Apache pulled his gun from his waistband and pointed it at her foot. “You want me to shoot your foot off too?”

“I swear I don’t know which room!”

“She better be here!” Dre said. “Or I’m coming back and cappin’ you myself.”

After making sure Freda was securely tied to the driver’s seat, the three men jumped from the car.

Dre looked up at the building. The motel had three stories with at least a dozen rooms on each level.

“We gotta check every room. I’ll take the first floor. Mossy you take the second. Apache you take the third.”

Dre ran toward the first door, while Apache and Mossy took off up the stairs.

“Open up! Brianna, are you in there?” He banged on the door with both fists until he heard the doorknob turn.

A man was in his boxers and a T-shirt. “What the hell?”

Dre pushed his way inside. “Brianna! Are you in here?”

“Man, ain’t no Brianna in here.”

A woman sat in the middle of the bed, a sheet clutched to her chin covering herself. Dre checked the bathroom and the closet, then ran to the next room.

The realization that Brianna was with Demonic pumped added adrenalin through his body. He kept imagining all the sick things Loretha had described. He had to find her.

Dre ran from room to room, pounding on the doors and windows. If the door didn’t open fast enough, he kicked it in.

“Brianna! Brianna, where are you?”

“What the hell you doin’?” A huge man stepped out of room 5 wearing only his boxers.

Dre recognized him as one of the bouncers from City Stars. He bum-rushed the man, grabbing his huge head and pounding it into the wall until he passed out.

D
emonic was grinning now, his eyes glistening with lust as he stared at Brianna. This little girl was as slippery as an eel. Each time he thought he had her, she scurried to the other side of the room.

“I’ve been needing a good workout,” he wheezed, dropping the broomstick to the floor.

“Let me go. Please let me go!” Brianna begged, her hands covering her bare breasts.

He shot across the bed again, his hand reaching out and grabbing the tail end of Brianna’s skirt. He ripped it from her body, leaving her completely naked.

“Get away from me!”

Again, Brianna managed to dart away.

Demonic charged across the room, this time, catching her. He easily lifted her high above his head and threw her down on the bed. He was about to pounce on top of her when Brianna rolled away and sprinted toward the door.

She had the doorknob in hand just as Demonic grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him, her back pressed against his hairy chest. He kept one hand locked around her waist, while his other hand roamed her breasts.

“You’re a tough one, little girl.”

Brianna turned sideways and bit him hard on the shoulder. When his free hand went to massage the bruise, Brianna swung her right foot backward, kicking him in the groin. He loosened his grip and she squirmed free. As he bent over in pain, she grabbed the broomstick and jabbed it in his eye.

Demonic screamed like a wounded hyena and weaved from side to side. But he didn’t go down.

“They told me you had a lot of fight in you,” he said, pressing his palm to his eye.

Brianna had hoped this would end like her first outing, with the john too wounded to continue. But Demonic kept coming at her.

“I like pain,” he said, spitting over his shoulder. “I like taking it as much as I like giving it. Come here, little girl. I’m ready to get this show on the road.”

Brianna scampered away from him again, hopping over the bed. She surveyed the room and tried to plot an escape. If she could make it to the bathroom, she could at least lock herself inside. But he would probably just kick the door in, then she would really be trapped. The only window faced the back side of the room. If she jumped, it would be two stories down to the alley below. She would certainly die.

She had to keep the man moving. Based on how hard he was breathing, he was not in good shape. If she kept him running after her, maybe she could make him have a heart attack. The man was big, but he was also as fast as a panther. If he caught her again, she probably wouldn’t get away.

Brianna spied the boom box and realized why no one had responded to her screams. She grabbed the box and hurled it through the window. It easily broke through the glass, rendering the room silent except for Demonic’s raspy wheezing.

“Now why’d you do that? Now we gotta be quiet. You’re about to make me get mean.”

Brianna eased toward the bathroom door. Maybe that would be her best bet. She’d almost made it inside when the man’s hand reached out and picked her up by one shoulder and slammed her onto the bed.

She inched back toward the headboard. “Please don’t hurt me!”

Demonic picked up the stick with one hand and grabbed Brianna’s right foot with the other.

“Open your legs, you little slut,” he said, dangling her in the air. “I got something for you.”

“Help me!” Brianna pressed her lungs for everything they had. “Uncle Dre, please help me!”

D
re stepped over the unconscious bouncer and hurried into the room he had just exited. Brianna wasn’t there.

Just as Dre was about to break down the door of the neighboring room, he was certain he heard Brianna scream. He ran outside and looked up at the building. He couldn’t be sure whether her voice had come from the second or third level.

“I’m here, Bree!” Dre yelled back. “Where are you, Bree? Where are you?”

There was no response.

“Up here,” Mossy hollered from the second floor. He pointed to the far end of the building. “The scream came from down there!”

Mossy took off in that direction as Dre flew up the stairs three at a time. Apache ran down the staircase from the third level.

“Break down every damn door!” Dre yelled, as he reached the second level.

He slammed his shoulder into a door, which easily flew open. He ran inside and checked the room. Empty.

“Where are you, Bree!” Dre was crying now, fear and rage about to devour him.

He kicked in another door. It, too, was empty. Motel guests were now peeking out of doorways and peering over the railing. But Dre didn’t care. If he spent the next ten years in jail, so be it. As long as he brought Brianna back home.

“This is it!” Mossy yelled from one of the rooms.

Dre was several yards away. He ran at top speed, barely able to stop when he got to the room.

From the doorway, he saw a fat black man sitting on the edge of the bed, a stick in his hand, gasping for air.

“Where is she?” Dre screamed. “Where is she?”

Dre pivoted, taking in the entire room. He rushed into the bathroom. Then he noticed Mossy. His friend had one palm pressed against the wall, his head lowered.

“Nooooo!” Dre yelled. “Where is she? What happened?”

Mossy still didn’t speak. Dre saw tears in his eyes.

The man sitting on the bed dared to respond to Dre’s question.

“That little bitch—” The man could barely speak. “That little bitch is crazy.”

Dre spun around. That was when he noticed the broken window facing the back of the motel. He walked unsteadily toward it.

Two stories down, the spotlights along the back of the building provided a crystal clear view of something Dre did not want to see.

Brianna’s frail, twisted body lay sprawled in the alleyway atop a heap of trash.

When Apache entered the room a second later, he ran over to the window where Dre was standing and peered down.

Apache pressed his fist to his lips. “Aw shit!”

Dre bolted over to the bed and started pounding the man in the face with a flurry of two-handed punches. Apache picked up the stick and joined in, wielding it like a baseball bat.

“I didn’t even touch her!” the man cried, holding up his hands in a fruitless effort to ward off the blows. “I told you she was crazy. The little bitch jumped out the window.”

A
low, guttural roar gushed from Dre’s lungs as he ran down the stairs, nearly tripping over his own feet.

When he reached Brianna, Dre dropped to his knees, cradling her in his arms. He sat there atop a smelly mattress stacked with trash, rocking and wailing.

Dre had no idea how much time had passed before he noticed Mossy staring down at him. He watched as his friend bent and pressed two thick fingers to Brianna’s neck.

“I feel a pulse! She’s alive!” Mossy yelled. He pulled out his smartphone and called 911.

Dre could not seem to comprehend or react or move. But when he saw Brianna’s eyes blink open, he came out of his stupor.

“Bree! I love you, Bree!”

He pulled her close to him, sobbing into her wild mass of hair. But when he looked into her face, he saw terror in her eyes.

Brianna suddenly started yelling and kicking and flailing her arms, struggling to get away from him.

“Don’t touch me!” she screamed. “Let me go! Get the hell away from me!”

Dre wrestled to hold on to her. “Bree, it’s me. It’s Uncle Dre. You’re okay, baby. You’re safe now.”

His words did not calm her.

“Get away from me! I’ll kill you!”

She scratched at him and bared her teeth, then started making sounds like a deaf-mute. With her wild, uncombed hair and her bloody, battered face, she looked like a rabid dog.

Dre refused to let her go. He tried to stand up, but she fought so fiercely, that he stumbled and they both fell deeper into the trash pile.

“Man, put her down!” Mossy yelled. “She’s in shock. She doesn’t know who you are. Put her down and just back away.”

Dre finally released her and stood up. He took several steps away from her.

Brianna sat there for several seconds staring up at him with glazed eyes. She was panting and crying, then started crab walking away from him.

“It’s okay, Bree,” he said softly. “It’s me. Uncle Dre. You’re safe now. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

Brianna seemed to be calming down and Dre prayed that she would finally recognize him.

Apache ran up to them. “I gave that punk everything he deserved. He won’t be messin’ with nobody else’s kid.”

At the sight of Apache, Brianna’s nostrils flared and she started wailing and swinging her arms again as if she was fighting off an invisible attacker.

Apache started toward her, but both Dre and Mossy grabbed opposite arms, pulling him back.

“She doesn’t recognize us,” Dre cried.

Dre stood there in the middle of the alley, feeling totally helpless.

Brianna’s eyes darted all around the alley. Before they could react, she backed away and slid behind a large trash dumpster.

Dre dropped to his knees. “Where’s the friggin’ ambulance?” he wailed. “Somebody help us!”

“Victims of human trafficking have limited access to help and often do not self-identify, especially when they have been isolated from friends and family for long periods of time. Feelings of shame and fear of reporting to law enforcement may also add to a reluctance to seek help.”

—
National Human Trafficking Resource Center

Annual Report

I
t was more than two hours before the start of visiting hours at Northridge Hospital Medical Center. Yet the hospital’s visiting area was already standing room only. Close to two dozen of Brianna’s relatives and friends were anxiously awaiting an update on her condition.

At the far end of the room, Angela sat on a couch next to Dre, who kept rubbing his forehead and muttering to himself.

“If only I’d gotten to her just ten minutes earlier. I could’ve kept her from diving out of that window.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Angela said softly. “You got her back. That’s all that counts.”

“I just wish I’d gotten there before that freak messed her up. If only I had—”

A woman in a white coat stepped into the room. All conversation stopped as everyone’s eyes focused her way.

“I’m looking for the family of Brianna Walker,” she announced.

Donna stood up, her mother along with her. “We’re her family.”

Dre and Angela made their way over to her as well.

“Should we talk in private?” the young female doctor asked, taking in the intimidatingly large group.

“No need to do that,” Donna said, gripping her mother’s arm. “We’re all her family. Just tell me how my baby is.”

The doctor clasped her hands in front of her.

“Your daughter survived a two-story fall, but her most serious injury is a broken leg. She’s got lots of cuts and bruises, but no internal injuries. Landing on that pile of trash saved her life. She’s a very lucky little girl.”

“Lucky by behind,” Brianna’s grandmother exclaimed, raising both of her hands in praise. “That baby is blessed!”

The room exploded with clapping, followed by a chorus of praise from the group.

“Amen on that!” someone shouted.

“Thank you, Jesus!” a woman standing behind Angela called out.

“The Lord answers prayers!” said a man wearing a preacher’s collar. “Yes, He does!”

The doctor looked nervously around the room, then cleared her throat. “While she’s doing great physically, her emotional recovery is going to be long and slow. She’s had a very traumatic experience.”

“Can we see her?” Donna asked.

“She’s been sedated, but you can see her.” The doctor’s wary eyes returned to the crowd. “But only two or three of you.”

Dre began trailing after Donna and their mother, but the doctor gently stopped him.

“I’m sorry, sir. Brianna’s not ready to have any male visitors just yet.”

“I’m her uncle,” Dre said, defensively. “She knows me.”

“I’m afraid that she’s been so traumatized by this ordeal that she gets hysterical whenever she sees any male. I was called in to replace Dr. Maravich, her initial treating physician. When she woke up and saw him, she started screaming and trying to climb out of bed. The same thing happened when a male nurse tried to approach her in the emergency room. She’s suffering from an extremely severe case of post-traumatic stress disorder. We shouldn’t do anything that could possibly traumatize her any further. Waking up and finding you there might. We’re only assigning female staff to care for her.”

Dre turned away, his face crushed.

“It’s okay,” Angela said, squeezing his forearm. “You’ll see her soon. She’ll be back to her old self before you know it.”

“I gotta go.”

Angela frowned. “Go? Go where?”

Dre looked away.

“Please don’t do anything stupid. You need to let the police handle this.”

“Police, my ass!”

The volume of Dre’s voice drew stares from everyone in the waiting area, but Dre didn’t bother to lower it.

“This Shepherd asshole has been pimpin’ children for years. Years! The police obviously don’t care or they’d be doing something about it.”

Angela took a step closer to him. “And just what are you going to do?”

“Trust me,” Dre said, moving toward the bank of elevators. “You don’t wanna know.”