Fatal Secrets (28 page)

“What happened to your mother?”

“She died suddenly. She’d always been sad, and my father told me she had cancer. I didn’t understand it then. But one day she was there, the next she wasn’t.”

Sonia rose from her seat ostensibly to refill her coffee, but she needed to move. She paced the length of the great room, from the kitchen to the living area and back to the kitchen.

“I was thirteen when he sold me. It was the middle of the night. I knew what was happening, but I didn’t believe it. Complete denial until he looked at me with contempt and said I had become a liability. That I was too curious.”

“It took nearly two weeks to get to Texas. There were a lot of us, picked up from small towns as we moved north. Some girls came willingly, excited that they were going to America. That was how I found out about my destination. Some of the older girls said they were mailorder
brides being delivered to their grooms. Others were going for work. Others didn’t talk, they were like me. Sold. Or kidnapped. I knew the eager ones were being lied to, but they didn’t believe me or I wasn’t convincing. I tried to figure out why my father gave me away—
sold me
—and I didn’t know. I thought I’d done something unforgivable, and this was punishment. I blamed myself for something I didn’t know I’d done. But deep down I knew he’d never loved me, never wanted me except to do things for him.” She laughed bitterly. “I had been a slave and didn’t even know it.”

“Sonia—”

She didn’t look at Dean, couldn’t look at him right now. Damn, why was this so hard? Had she convinced herself that she had gotten over the past, only to be lying to herself yet again? Just like she had while growing up with a father who didn’t love her?

“One time I tried to escape. We’d passed a church and I knew it was my only chance to find help.

“That’s when they whipped me.” She thought she was dead. And for a time, she wished they had killed her. But her will to survive was too great. She had to be smarter. Patient. “Then the bastard in charge burned me. I didn’t know then that he was branding me on purpose—I thought it was another punishment.”

She sipped her coffee, her hands steady even though her stomach quivered.

“Izzy and I were separated from the group and taken to a house in Texas, though I didn’t know where we were at the time.”

“Who’s Izzy?” Dean asked.

“I met her on the truck. I don’t know why we were separated from the other girls. Anyway, Izzy and I were
locked in a basement. We barely understood each other but we were all we had. I wanted to escape but Izzy had accepted her fate.”

Sonia stared out the partly open blinds into the bright sunrise. “Then one of them came down into the basement. He—” she closed her eyes, but when she saw Izzy’s dead eyes staring at her, she opened her own. Heart racing, she swallowed uneasily and said in a monotone, “He raped Izzy.”

“God, Sonia—”

“Not me. He just wanted me to watch. Told me since I was a virgin I’d make them a lot more money, but this would be my life. He was a brute, so large, so violent and he was hurting her—he killed Izzy. I saw it happening and tried to stop it, but she was already dead.”

She turned to Dean. “I killed him. Shot him with his own gun that had slipped from his pants while he raped and murdered my only friend.”

“You had no choice.”

“I know. I know.” She took a deep breath. “Wendell Knight was the Texas Ranger who found me. My adopted dad’s brother. Wendell took me in because he didn’t want me to face the alternatives—juvenile hall or foster care. Obviously I couldn’t be sent home since authorities were looking for my father.

“When he sold me, I thought I’d done something wrong. Thought I deserved it. In fact, for a while, I thought he’d buy me back, that he’d needed the money for something important, but he’d buy me back when he could. That delusion didn’t last long.

“After the ring was arrested, Immigration tried to find him and couldn’t. I don’t know how hard they tried, I don’t even know if they believed everything I said. Some
of the people I talked to looked at me like it was my fault. Some wanted me to disappear, go back to where I came from. Others wanted to help. I testified in court. It was a small town and everyone knew what had happened.”

“I loved Wendell,” Sonia said, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat. “He was the father I should have had. Then one day he was gone. Killed in the line of duty.”

Dean put his hands on her shoulders. She hadn’t noticed that he’d even gotten up from the table. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, rubbing her shoulders, sharing his strength with her. She leaned into him, just for a moment. But she had more to tell.

“Owen and Marianne came for the funeral and asked if I wanted to live in California with them and their two sons. I would have done anything to get away from the rumors and mean kids and the numbing loss I felt. Without Wendell, there was nothing for me in Texas but bad memories.”

“They’re good people, and they obviously love you.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms.

Sonia smiled warmly. “I’m really lucky. I even went to college. Amazing really, because I never thought I’d have the opportunity. Working for INS was my only goal. I wanted a degree. I wanted to get into the program, and I was going to stop human trafficking. Single-handedly.” She stared at the ceiling. “I was young, idealistic, and stupid.”

Dean said, “There’re a lot of people in our business who start out idealistic. I’m glad.”

“But not you.” She couldn’t picture Dean charging windmills. He was too intense and focused. She turned
to face him, saw that he hadn’t changed the way he looked at her even after her story. Her body began to relax as if it had a mind of its own. Or maybe it was because Dean took her hands and held them firmly.

“My dad was a beat cop in Chicago. It’s all he was,” Dead said. “Unlike Owen Knight, who obviously loves his family and spent time with you. My dad was a good cop, but he didn’t know how to be a father or a husband. I came into the FBI a little jaded, I suppose. It wasn’t my first career choice.”

“What was?”

“After getting out of the Marines, I went to college to be a CPA. I was recruited into the FBI. Fifteen years ago, they wanted accountants. And I have a knack for numbers and financial connections.” Dean led her back to the table and poured cereal in a bowl for her.

“Fifteen years and you’re already assistant director?” She took a bite to make him happy, though she was too wound up to eat.

He waved the achievement away. “It’s not just tenure, it’s politics. I was successful on a few high-profile investigations early on, rose through the ranks quickly. In a way I wish I hadn’t. I prefer the grunt work over being in charge.”

“You’re a natural leader,” Sonia said. “It’s obvious.”

“So are you.”

She shook her head. “I’m learning, but …” she stopped. Did she really want to go into this?

Dean took her hand and kissed it. The rising sun cast a filtered array of orange and yellows through the blinds. She’d never felt safer.

Sonia took a breath and said, “When I finished my training, I was assigned to El Paso. Charlie Cammarata
was my training agent. We worked together for eighteen months. The first year was my training year; the second year was as his partner.

“I worshipped him, I admit it. He was smart, brave, compassionate. He knew about my past, and said it made me a better person and a better agent. The Knights loved me, but honestly? We never talked about what my father did. For the first time, I felt I
could
talk about it, and Charlie listened. He made me feel powerful. Like I could make a difference. I trusted him.

“Eighteen months after I became an agent, Charlie told me we were going undercover in Costa Rica. The INS wanted two agents to go in to gather intelligence on a human trafficking ring. Both Charlie and I spoke Spanish fluently, and I knew dozens of dialects. All those years living in remote villages, I learned to pick up languages easily. I was excited. This was my first real chance to do something bigger and more important than border patrol.

“What I didn’t know was that Charlie had no sanction from the INS. He told them he was taking a vacation. I learned later that he told people that he and I were involved and wanted to take a vacation together.” She shook her head. It still angered her how manipulative Charlie had been, and how readily she’d believed him.

“So we were in this bar and I thought we had backup. I was a waitress, and I took great notes. Every night I wrote down names, numbers, towns, destinations, everything I overheard.

“Ten days later, the bar was closing and I was waiting for Charlie to walk me back to the room we’d rented. He didn’t show, and my boss in the bar was an asshole. He kicked me out, though it was late and the neighborhood
was dicey. Still, I was young and stupid. I had no gun, no identification because Charlie told me that would be a giveaway. He gave me a can of mace and with that in hand, I started walking.

“I was grabbed by a meaty thug not twenty feet from the bar entrance. I maced the guy, then someone else grabbed me from behind, and the next thing I know, I’m in a truck, and we’re moving. And there are dozens of girls with me.”

“Where was Charlie?”

Sonia closed her eyes. “I didn’t know it then, but he’d hidden in the alley and watched the whole thing. I overheard the men saying my brother had sold me to them, that I was a virgin and worth a lot of money. I didn’t believe them. Charlie wouldn’t do that.

“No one came to rescue me. We were heading south, toward Panama. I thought Charlie was following. He was, but not to save me. He was mapping the route because two months before, a dozen girls from a Costa Rican orphanage had been kidnapped and he didn’t know where they were taken, but he knew which ring sold them. He’d sold me into that ring, hoping they’d lead him to the orphans.”

“He sold you and didn’t tell you his plan?”

She shook her head. “I was stupid.”

“No. You were following orders. You were young and you believed your senior agent.”

“Maybe, but in hindsight I should have seen it. Don’t tell anyone, it’s classified,
yada yada.”

“Sonia, don’t blame yourself for the crimes of Charlie Cammarata,” Dean said firmly.

“I don’t. But I do blame myself for being blinded
by someone I trusted and considered a mentor and a friend.”

“I think you’re being too harsh on yourself.”

Maybe Dean was right, but she’d never forget how stupid and terrified she felt when she realized she was once again a prisoner. She continued. “Two nights later, they took us to a farm outside Ustupo. That’s when they branded us. All of us. Two, three, or four stars depending on our destination. I learned later that three stars was for a brothel on an island off the coast of Venezuela. Two stars was for a slave-labor camp in Brazil, and four stars was for domestic servants—indentured servants—for some wealthy families in Chile. They like to split the groups up because there’s less chance of us bonding and trying to escape if we don’t know who we’ll be with.

“But because I was a virgin, I had a detour. I was separated from the girls after we were branded and sent to a small town outside Panama City, where I was put up in a crumbling motel and told to wait for the man who would, and I quote, ‘fuck me good.’

“And you know what? I was scared shitless, but even though I was terrified, I still thought okay, this is what Charlie is waiting for, to arrest this guy. I’m the bait. I wish he’d told me, but it’s okay because I knew where all those girls were going, and as soon as Charlie came in and took out this guy, we’d rescue the girls. A little scar on my arm was a small price to pay. I already had so many, one more wouldn’t matter.”

Sonia didn’t realize she was crying until the tears dripped off her chin. She looked down and squeezed her eyes shut. “The guy came in. He looked at me and said that I was too old to be a virgin. He was enraged, thought he’d been cheated. I found out later he’d paid
two thousand American dollars for a virgin. He would have paid five thousand if I was under sixteen. Bastard.”

“Sonia—”

She put up her hand to stop Dean from talking. She wouldn’t be able to get it out if he tried to soothe her or tell her it wasn’t her fault. “He thought I was nineteen, though I was twenty-four. It happened so fast … He tore the dress I’d been ordered to wear. And that’s when I knew I was on my own.”

“He didn’t—”

“No. He didn’t rape me. He tried.” Tried was an understatement. She had run around the room, had screamed her head off, but no one came. She’d tried for the door, but he’d stopped her. She hit him, kicked him, and he used her as a punching bag. He told her to lie down and spread for him. It was humiliating and disgusting and she would have rather died than let him touch her, let alone rape her.

She said softly, “I killed him.”

Dean clutched both of her hands in his. “How?”

“I had five minutes alone in the room before he came in. There wasn’t a private bathroom, just a sink with a small mirror on the wall above it. I removed it, hoped no one would notice, and cracked it in several pieces. I hid the shards in strategic places.” Her voice hitched. This was harder than she’d thought. “I never told Riley this. I told him the big-picture stuff, but never … never how close he came.

“He had me on the bed and I pretended to accept my fate.”

She’d never forget his hands on her, his foul, fishy breath, his crudity. He’d promised to teach her how to be a good whore, after he made her one.

“And when he didn’t expect it, I took one of those hidden shards and stabbed him in the neck.”

There’d been so much blood. It spurted—she’d hit a major artery. He was dead in minutes.

“I didn’t know what to do. I ran, tried to find help, but I was so sick. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I collapsed and was taken to the hospital. I needed surgery because he’d beaten me pretty badly and there was internal bleeding. It was a small hospital, and they removed my uterus. I don’t know, if I’d been in the U.S., if it could have been saved or not. I’ll never know.”