Inevitable Detour (24 page)

“It’s all right,” she says. “And
I’m
all right.” She takes a breath. “I mean, I will be all right. I’m sure I’ll be back to my old self soon enough.”

I smile, tell her she’s right. “You’re almost there now,” I say reassuringly.

But, damn, I’m not sure how Haven will ever get completely back to her old self. Not when, a short while later, she and I are sitting cross-legged on her bed, facing each other, and she’s sharing with me the things that happened to her—things that include Eric forcing himself on her, like, multiple times.

“Vincent pretty much left me alone,” she says, as if that was a huge consolation.

Softly, I reply, “Haven, I am so sorry you had to go through all that.”

She picks up a throw pillow on the bed and squeezes the edges. “It wasn’t so bad when we stayed at the motels in the beginning. I mean, sure, I thought it was bad. Eric forced me to do things right away, even when I tried to be willing. He liked when I fought, though. So, I played along and fought him. But then he started hurting me for real…”

She trails off, and I tell her, “You don’t have to talk about this, Haven.”

“It helps, though,” she insists. “I need to get it out. Keeping it inside just makes it all fester. I have nightmares most nights. When Rick hears me screaming, he comes in and holds me. And he listens, Es. He’s a good listener.” She looks up at me. “So, if you’re okay with hearing it, I’d like to tell you more.”

Her eyes beseech mine, and I pat her knee. “Of course,” I say as soothingly as I can. “Just like always, you can tell me anything.”

I sit quietly and listen. And Haven tells her tale. It’s nothing short of horrific. Not that I expected anything less. She starts at the beginning, first telling me how Eric and Vincent dragged her away from the apartment at gunpoint while I was out cold.

“First, they made me pack,” she says. “So it would look like I left the apartment willingly.”

“I knew it!” I silently curse the policemen who didn’t believe me.

She tells me how Eric took her with him in his car and Vincent drove hers. “I was kept in the trunk,” she states matter-of-factly.

“Oh, Haven.”

“In Indianapolis, Eric had us stay at a place where he knew how to get me past the cameras without being seen.”

“The Super Eight,” I say. “Farren and I stayed there. He checked out the surveillance videos. And, yeah, you weren’t on them.”

In a quiet voice, she says, “That’s where Eric first forced himself on me. I told him I’d do whatever he wanted, that he didn’t have to be so rough with me, but he liked being brutal.”

“He’s sick,” I hiss, angered and wishing I had the power to hurt the man who hurt this girl I love like a sister.

I ask where Vincent was during all this, and she says, “I don’t know. I guess in another room.”

“That’s strange,” I comment.

She shrugs and continues her story. “We traveled to Oklahoma City next. Eric had Vincent ditch my car there.” She pauses and then says somberly, “It went from bad to worse after that.”

“What happened?” I inquire timidly.
How much worse can I get?
I think.

A lot worse, I learn when Haven says, “In Texas and New Mexico, Eric started taking me to the homes of his associates. I was kept in the basements.”

“Did Eric still…”

“Yeah, of course. All the time.” She grimaces. “He and his
friends
would take turns with me. And when I resisted, Eric would hurt me.”

My eyes are drawn to the bruises on her body, the red marks on her neck. She looks away and whispers, “Thank God I was rescued when I was.”

I shudder, as does she. Our eyes meet, and I see in her aquamarines that a few more days and she may have been unreachable. Not just geographically, but in other ways as well. I look away, wondering how much she knows of Farren’s involvement with the men who kidnapped her, the men who hurt her. I wonder if she knows what Farren has been up to these past several months.

Carefully, I say offhandedly, “Yeah, good thing Rick was able to get you out.”

She’s quiet, and I venture a glance in her direction.

“Essa, I know what you’re thinking,” she says.

“Do you?”

“Yes,” she says softly. “I know more than you think.”

“So, you know Farren and Rick work together? You know Farren has been after the organization Eric and Vincent work for?”

“Yes,” she says. “I know everything. Rick told me I was taken because of the things Farren has done to stop that organization.”

“Rick told you
everything
?” I ask, amazed and kind of shocked that he divulged so much.

“He never would have said a word on his own,” Haven replies. “But Farren gave him the go-ahead to tell me everything.”

Aha, I didn’t think Rick would divulge all that confidential information on his own.

I say to Haven, “So, you know Farren and Rick help other girls who’ve been abducted?”

“Yes, I know.” She nods and then reiterates, “I told you, Essa, I know everything. I know about the organization that Eric and Vincent work for. I know how it’s tied to legit businesses. I know about that rich man who approached Farren. I know that Farren hired Rick to assemble teams. And I know that they’ve been trying to infiltrate the human-trafficking arm of the corporation. Rick said they’ve had some success in rescuing a few of the girls who’ve been kidnapped.”

“I guess you do know everything,” I say when she’s finished.

Everything is quiet, until she says, “Just between us, Essa, Eric is definitely involved in the worst of the worst, but I’m not so sure about Vincent.”

I make a face. “Uh, Haven, he kidnapped you along with Eric. Plus, he drugged me that night. I didn’t wake up until late the next day.”

“I know, but something is different about him.”

“Like what?” I want to know.

“For one, he never touched me. Not once. And he certainly could have; Eric offered me to him all the time. And, he was just…I don’t know. He seemed concerned with keeping Eric from getting too crazy with me. I don’t think he wanted me harmed.”

“You were harmed, Haven,” I remind her, my eyes fixed on her neck.

“I mean
really
harmed.” Her hand goes to her bruised skin. “These marks will heal,” she says. “Eric could have done things that were permanent.”

I shudder as I take into consideration what Haven is saying. True, Vincent did display some kindness to me the night Haven was taken. He didn’t take advantage of me, for one. Hell, he even brought me a bucket when I was feeling sick. And now to learn he never had sex with Haven, even when many of Eric’s associates did. Maybe Vincent is not as horrible as I originally thought. But why would he hold back? Why not behave as terribly as the rest of the men? What’s his angle in all of this?

“Do you think Vincent works with Rick and Farren?” I throw out.

“I thought that,” she replies. “But when I flat-out asked Rick, he said no.”

“Yeah,” I say, thoughtful. “I didn’t get that impression from Farren, either.”

We’re well and truly stumped on how the mysterious Vincent fits into the scheme of things. But clearly he’s not as bad as Eric and Dawson. As I recall horrible Dawson, with a disgusted shudder, I consider sharing with Haven my encounter with the old pervert. But I decide to hold off. It would feel too weird to detail how her brother had to finger me to orgasm in front of another man. If Farren wasn’t related to her, I could share. But since he is her brother, I choose to skip the sordid tale.

“What are you thinking about, Essa?” Haven asks. Her tone is suspicious. She knows I’m holding back.

Without going into the specifics of what happened with Dawson, I say, “I was just thinking about someone Farren and I met up with before we came here.”

“One of them?” she quietly asks.

“Yeah,” I say sourly. And then I ask, “Did you ever meet a man named Dawson during your time with Eric?”

I give her a description, but she shakes her head. “No, he doesn’t fit the description of any of the guys I, uh…saw. All of them were younger.”

“I think he’s the boss,” I remark, and then, out of pure curiosity, I add, “What about this Mr. Barnes that Farren and Rick work for? What’s the deal with him?”

“I don’t know. Rick didn’t say too much about him. Just that he approached Farren right after he was discharged from the military.”

“Do you know about his daughter?” I whisper.

She nods and replies quietly, “Yes, I know.”

Haven and I spend the next thirty minutes trying to figure out what, besides the huge amounts of money, could have lured Farren to work for Quinton Barnes. What was so convincing that he chose to bring on his closest associate and friend, Rick? What could be so compelling that Farren would even put together teams to fight this fight?

“Was human trafficking a cause near and dear to Farren in the past?” I ask Haven.

“Not that I know of,” she says, frowning. She is as stumped as I am. “I mean, I’m sure he thought it was awful and all. But, I don’t know… I think we’re missing something.”

“Yeah,” I agree, “we have to be missing something. I mean, something made Farren say yes to Barnes. And it wasn’t the money. He’s said as much.” I sigh. “He’s just so thoroughly committed. There has to be a reason.”

“I agree,” Haven says. “And from what Rick has been saying the past few days, it sounds like they’re staying in it.”

“They are,” I say dourly. “Farren told me the same thing.”

She shakes her head. “I’m telling you, Essa, there’s something more, some missing component.”

“It’s something to do with Barnes,” I declare. “I’m sure of it.”

“Why do you think that?” Haven asks.

“I don’t know. I wish I could put my finger on it, but I just have a feeling.”

Haven bites her lip, contemplating. “Hmm, maybe you are onto something, Essa.”

“I think so,” I mumble.

And then Haven says the one thing I’ve been repeatedly asking myself: “What the hell kind of hold could this Quinton Barnes possibly have on Farren?”

“I don’t know, Haven. But I think we should find out.”

H
aven and I talk well into the night. We put the serious chats on the back burner and focus on nicer things. Like what’s ahead of us. She’s thrilled when I tell her of my plans to spend the rest of the summer in New York City with her and Farren.

“Your parents are going to freak out,” she says, laughing and shaking her head.

I snort. “Ha, you should have heard Mom when I told her I was skipping out on taking summer classes.”

“Oh, shit, Essa,” Haven says, stricken. “You didn’t tell her I was missing, did you?”

“Are you kidding?” I make a face. “Of course not.”

Haven is quiet, and her eyes meet mine. She asks, “So, what did your mom say about you not staying on campus this summer?”

I sigh. “She said there’d be ‘repercussions’ in the fall.”

“Guess that means you’re getting cut off?”

“Not for tuition, but probably for living expenses.”

Haven is having none of that. “No way,” she says. “I’ll pay your share of the apartment if it comes to that.”

“It’s probably not going to come to that,” I assure her as I glance around the unfamiliar bedroom we’re in. The room is neutrally decorated; it’s nothing like our homey-feeling apartment back east. This is a just a house Farren directed Rick to buy, a safe house. Talking with Haven tonight has felt like old times. But things have very much changed. Haven is the same yet different. Thing is, I’ve changed, too. I’ve come into my own.

Haven is observing me carefully. “What’s going on, Essa?” she asks.

I say softly, “I’m switching my major.”

Her eyes widen. “Really? What are you switching to?”

“Journalism,” I state proudly.

Haven knows I like to write, particularly news pieces. She knows I’ve written articles for the school paper and that I’ve contributed to a monthly business review.

Smiling, she says, “I think that’s a great idea.” And then she adds, “I’m proud of you, Essa.”

We spend the next few minutes fleshing out how I can still graduate on time. But in the end, I conclude, “Maybe summer classes are in my future, after all.”

Damn, so much for my plans. If I’m serious about switching majors, I may
have
to return to school and skip New York. Something I absolutely do not want to do. Unless… I could always move to New York City permanently, like I discussed with Farren. I could re-set my time table, and start anew.

Before I have the chance to share my thoughts, Haven pipes up with, “Why don’t you take summer classes in New York City?”

“It’s a little late to be registering for summer classes at a school I don’t even attend,” I say.

“Farren has connections at Columbia,” she replies matter-of-factly. “I’m sure he can pull some strings.”

“Connections at Columbia…” I laugh. “Should I even be surprised?”

Haven shrugs nonchalantly, taking her brother’s power and influence in stride. This might be a good time to tell her I may actually transfer to a New York school.

“No way,” Haven says after I tell her what I’m thinking of doing.

“I’m considering it,” I confirm.

“Hmm”—she eyes me knowingly—“things must really be getting serious with my brother.”