Layers Peeled (16 page)

“I don’t know.
But if James can perhaps drive up to her and mislead her—”

“—you want him
to kidnap her?”

“We won’t hurt
her. I know in my gut she’ll be safer with us than whomever she
works for.”

“I don’t think
it would be an issue with James. He’s always loved going
undercover. But he’s in meetings all day today. It would have to be
tomorrow.”

“Here.” I
scribbled the make and model on a note as well as what James should
be wearing and passed it to her. “Rent this out for tomorrow and
get him these clothes. There was no licence plate on the vehicle,
so make sure they remove it.”

“Sounds good.”
She took the piece of paper and started working at her desk. Within
minutes I heard Laura making phone calls and arrangements for the
SUV to be delivered to our parking lot this evening and I smiled.
This had to work. I had to get that girl off the streets.

If Marissa was
out there, abused and mistreated, I had to help her. I needed her
to know there was a way out: that someone other than her pimp was
actually thinking about her. She didn’t have to run from me or
anyone else. I wanted her safe.

As I flipped
through the pages in her new file, there was a photo of the SUV.
Despite the surging emotions last night, I was right on the make
and model of the vehicle. Then I lost myself in reading the details
of Marissa’s life.

Her father had
drowned on a fishing trip. His canoe was flipped over and he
couldn’t turn around. The stream carried him away from the rest of
the party into the whitewaters, and his friends couldn’t catch up
fast enough to help him. Marissa was ten at the time.

The fate of
Clare, Marissa’s mother, wasn’t picturesque either. Left to raise a
daughter on her own, she struggled. She’d always been a
stay-at-home mother while her husband, an honorary police officer,
worked at the force. After he passed, getting a job that could
support the living conditions they were used to or starting a
career so late in her life was next to impossible.

But instead of
scaling down to support her daughter, Clare chose to work as a
private escort. She seemed to be doing well in the beginning,
acting as merely a companion to rich men who needed a beautiful
woman under their arm to attend an event. It was suspected that
someone with connections fed her the clients. The file contained
few details about the source of Clare’s jobs, and it may well have
been a rumor. But in my experience, rumors always held a portion of
truth within them.

With age,
Clare’s jobs dwindled and she chose to expand her services to more
than accompanying rich men. The next few pages didn’t surprise me.
After selling her body for months Marissa’s mother ended up being
brutally raped in an alley close to one of the hotels she had left
earlier in the night. Her body was found in a trash container; the
close up photos of her stab wounds and evidence of abuse were
nothing less than gruesome. Marissa was eighteen when it had
happened. Legally an adult, she was on her own. She had no way to
support herself through college without proper assistance.

I couldn’t
believe how parallel our lives appeared. Despite her being a few
years younger than me, her life mirrored mine. She had grown up
without a father, just like I had. But where our mothers were
concerned, our paths forked.

At this moment
I couldn’t have been more thankful for the life path my mother had
chosen for us. Because after all, her decisions had set the tone
for both our lives. Despite having Wright breathing down her neck
her entire life, she was able to raise me, train me, and support me
emotionally as much as she could. Unlike Marissa’s mother, mine had
been able to stay clear of bad men.

I pulled my
gaze away from the file and wiped my eyes. This case struck a nerve
in my heart. It was too familiar. Except that my mother proved to
be stronger. She chose to live in modesty to raise me. One simple
decision could have changed Marissa’s path and future; a decision
that couldn’t be taken back now. Was that why I had been so drawn
to her, why I felt an odd connection with a girl I’d only met
once?

I flipped
another page.

Marissa had
dropped out her first year of college and began working at Hooters
to support herself. She’d done well there; and then one night, she
simply disappeared. A few mug shots later I could only come up with
the conclusion that she had been caught under the influence in a
public place a few times. Nothing big – except each time, someone
had bailed her out and she would disappear once again.

Was that
the man in the SUV?
I wondered.

I read the
file over and over again, and before I realized it, it was already
six in the evening. The sky consumed by night glowed from below,
illuminated by city lights. Laura finally came by my desk, saying,
“It’s time to go home.”

I stretched my
arms out when a text from Tristan came in.

“Go ahead.
I’ll be done in five minutes,” I said to Laura.

“Make sure
security sees you to your car,” she said.

“Will do.”

I finally
looked at my phone.

T.
Cross:
Why are you still at the office, Allie?

A.
Green:
I’m about to leave.

I knew I’d
promised Tristan a normal business day, but he was the first one to
break tonight’s plans by leaving on a business trip. Besides, I’d
been so preoccupied with Marissa, I’d forgotten about the time. I
was so grateful tomorrow was Saturday and I could stay home. Not
that I didn’t like work, but exhaustion set in quicker than I
liked. Besides, getting some distance from the case to clear my
mind would perhaps help me think better. My phone vibrated
again.

T.
Cross:
Have you had anything to eat since breakfast?

Has he been
spying on me?
I thought.

A.
Green:
Muffin for lunch.

I swear my own
phone had just frowned at me.

T.
Cross:
I may have to come back sooner to feed you.

A.
Green:
Then I shall not touch food until I see you ;)

T.
Cross:
Pls eat smthg & txt me when u get home. Leftovers in
fridge. <3

He must have
been in a hurry, cutting his texts short.

A.
Green:
I promise I will <3

I gathered my
coat and purse and took the elevator to the garage parking
downstairs. Passing the security guy, I waved.

“Would you
like me to walk you to your car, Ms. Green?” he asked.

I peeked
around the corner to where my white Bentley was parked less than
ten feet away and replied, “No, I’ll be fine.”

My stomach
grumbled. I should have eaten something earlier.

As I
approached my car, a shiver passed over my spine and goose bumps
covered my arms. I clicked the button on my key and the engine
purred when my eye caught something moving in my peripheral
vision.

I jumped
up.

“I’m sorry.”
The girl was crunched up on the floor by the wall where she
couldn’t have been seen by security. Her head was covered with a
hood and she slowly removed it.

I held my
breath and felt my jaw open.
Don’t scare her, Allie,
I
thought.

I stripped
away the nerves that surged through me and said in a calm voice,
“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

Her eyes
glistened with fresh tears, and mascara streamed down her face. She
wore faded jeans; the hems of their bottoms torn and soiled.
Marissa’s hair was unkempt and nails full of dirt. I couldn’t
believe she was here, so close to my car. Was that a
coincidence?

“Are you
hurt?” I asked.

She shook her
head sideways but clutched her fists tighter than before.

“Don’t be
scared, Marissa.”

“You know my
name?” she asked.

Shit!
Well, that should scare the living daylights out of her.

“I do. Are you
cold?” I asked. Judging from her shivering body, she was.

Marissa
nodded.

“Do you want
to warm up in my car?”

She nodded
again.

I opened the
door and let her into the passenger seat. We sat in silence for a
good few minutes before she opened her clenched fists.

“She said you
can help me.” She handed me my business card. “That’s why I’m
here.”

I recalled
giving the card to Mercedes when Laura and I had gone out to Hunts
Point to ask about Marissa.

“I can.” I
took a deep breath and gave myself a quick pep talk in my mind. “My
name is Allie Green. Marissa, I know you’ve been through a lot, but
I want to take you to my house. Are you all right with that?”

I could have
said a shelter or a hospice or one of the other dozes of places
women found refuge at, but none of them felt like they’d keep her
safe from whomever she feared. I could see it on her face. It was
that same look she had at the auction. And it was the identical
fear I recognized from when I’d hidden under the staircase while
Wright raped my mother.

“Yes,” she
whispered.

As soon as I
got home I sent a text to Tristan and rushed upstairs to gather a
change of clothes for Marissa. She stood in the hallway where I’d
left her, mesmerized. I couldn’t blame her. I had the same reaction
when I first saw this place. Gosh, was this really a good idea?
Would this be too much for her?

“I got you
some clothes,” I said, reaching forward with the jeans I thought
would fit her, a comfortable t-shirt, and a sweater. “If you want
them, that is. You can use the bathroom upstairs, and I can throw
your clothes in a washer.”

This was it!
Would she turn around and run?
Please don’t. Please let me
help.

“I’d really
like that.” This time Marissa offered a smile and her tone gained
some levity.

I showed her
upstairs and once she threw her clothes to the hallway like I’d
asked, I tossed them in the washer. Then I rushed downstairs and
nuked last night’s leftover Chinese food. I hoped she liked Chinese
food. There was still enough in the fridge for four or five
people.

My fingers
drummed on the kitchen counter and my knees wobbled as I waited for
Marissa to join me. In my mind I’d prepared a speech about her
situation and how I just wanted to lend her a hand and would never
judge her. I wanted her to know she didn’t need to go back to the
scum I assumed was running her life. Saving this girl meant
everything to me. It was one of the signs of hope I’d been looking
for and that validated our work.

Her quiet
footsteps swooshed across the floor and I stopped moving. When she
came into the kitchen, all cleaned up and in fresh clothes, she
could have truly passed for my younger sister: a much skinnier
sister. From the high cheeks on Marissa’s face and her pointy nose
to her auburn eyes, the resemblance was unbelievable. I’d heard of
people having doubles in this world. I’d seen them hired to do
publicity stunt shots for the rich and famous. And I had no doubt
that Marissa was mine.

I stood up too
fast. My chair tipped over and I caught it just before it crashed
to the floor.

“I hope you’re
hungry. I heated some Chinese food for us.” I grabbed one of the
spoons and started scooping on the plate in front of me. “Go ahead
and please excuse my manners, but I’m starving.”

In my mind I
kept searching for ideas that would make her feel at ease, so
perhaps after we ate she’d open up. I felt like I had to be careful
of what I said so I wouldn’t scare her off.

“I had a long
day today. I’m really looking forward to spending the weekend away
from work.”

The statement
was partly true and more intended for chitchat than anything else,
but I did feel exhausted.

“I think I’ve
seen you before.” She finally lifted a plate and scooped some
food.

I cleared my
throat then said in a quiet tone, “You have. At that hotel auction.
I was standing beside you.”

Would it make
her feel uncomfortable if she knew I’d seen what the man had done
to her?

She narrowed
her brows for a moment, and I knew what she was thinking. How did I
end up in this house and she with a bastard who scouted her out and
bought her even before the auction?

But she simply
stated, “You had different hair and eyes.”

Marissa lifted
the first forkful to her mouth and her reaction to Olivier’s
delicious Chinese food was just what I’d expected. She added more
to her plate, this time with more assertiveness.

“Well, I was
there for a different reason than you were, so I had to change my
look.”

“Are you a
cop?”

“I used to be.
Now I help women off the streets. Specifically ones who are abused
and controlled by men.”

She stiffened
and looked from her plate to me. Our gazes connected, and at that
moment Marissa understood exactly what I meant.

“Thank you for
this.” She lowered her form and stood up. She hastened toward the
hall and I ran after her.

“Please,
Marissa, stay with me. You’re safe here.”

Don’t go!

She hadn’t had
enough to eat and I hadn’t even discussed her situation yet. Jeez,
those people at the safe houses and shelters were really good at
their jobs. Could I do this? Could I convince her that the life
she’d led, the life which had been forced upon her, could be
changed?

I can’t let her
leave!

Marissa
grabbed her jacket off the hook in the hall. She shook her head
sideways as her eyes welled up.

“You’re being
too generous.”

“It’s my
pleasure to have you here.” I gently touched her arm. “My heart
would break if you left now.”

“Why? Why are
you doing this?”

“Because I
once witnessed a brutal crime.”

Her head
jerked up. I had her attention, so I continued. “I was just a kid
when my mother was raped in her own house by someone she knew. She
was seven months pregnant and lost her baby.”