Visible Threat (14 page)

37

R
OSE
C
ARUSO LIVED
in a quiet section of East Long Beach. The family had moved to the house when Brinna was seven and her little brother, Brian, was five. Brinna thought that maybe her mother would downsize from the three-bedroom, two-bath house after her father died. But Rose wanted to stay in the house and use the space as an opportunity to help people who needed a temporary place to live. Brinna knew her mother liked company and enjoyed helping, and she also realized her mom needed someone to fuss over. Better others than her. Brinna’s old room went from sewing room to guest room, and Brian’s old room became the sewing room.

Ivana settled in quickly, thanking Rose over and over again for the spacious room that would be hers and the peaceful location of the house. Now certain that Mom’s house would be the best place for Ivana to heal, Brinna decided it was time for her to head to her own home. She was about to leave when her cell phone jingled with a call from Jack. Ivana was in the bathroom when Brinna hung up.

“That was Jack,” she told Rose. “He wants to come by and talk to Ivana.”

“And? Your expression says there’s more to it.”

Brinna blew out a breath, conceding the fact that keeping anything from her mother was impossible. She glanced down the hall to make certain Ivana wouldn’t hear her. “He’s bringing pictures of the dead girl from the river
 
—the one he thinks might be Ivana’s sister. They have identical tattoos.”

Rose grimaced. “I know it’s important they identify the poor girl. But I can’t help wishing for a different outcome.” Wringing her hands, she continued. “At least I’ll be here when she gets the news. I’ll do my best to help her through this. Was there more?”

“Yeah, Jack hopes Ivana can describe Demitri so we can put out a press release with a sketch.”

Rose settled in on the sofa. “That would be a good thing. What did you tell him?”

“That I’d ask you both. I know she’s had a rough time, but the sooner we get the information out, the better chance we have of catching the creep.”

“I agree. I hope she’s not still too fragile. We’ll ask
 
—at least give her the chance to say yes or no.”

A few minutes later Ivana joined them in the living room.

“Thank you, Mrs. Caruso. The room is beautiful.”

“My pleasure. You are welcome here, and I want you to think of this house as your home. Help yourself to anything you want.”

Ivana smiled. “Never in my life have I imagined such a
nice home. It would have been a place my sister, Villie, would have loved.” Her eyes misted over.

Brinna saw her mother stiffen at the mention of Ivana’s sister. Rose motioned for Ivana to sit on the couch. Once she was seated, Rose took the girl’s hands in hers. “Ivana, another policeman wants to talk to you, to go over the statement you gave in the hospital. And to talk about your sister. He wants to come here. Do you feel up to talking to him?”

Ivana’s gaze flitted from Rose to Brinna and then down to her hands. Brinna held her breath, hoping she wouldn’t freak out. There was so much they needed to ask her, and the sooner the better.

Finally she nodded. “Yes, I will answer his questions.” She looked up into Rose’s eyes. “You’ll stay with me while he is here?”

Rose smiled. “Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

Brinna called Jack and was told he would be right over. Ben opted to stay at the station because he didn’t want Ivana to feel in any way intimidated or overwhelmed. In preparation for Jack’s visit, Brinna went to her mother’s kitchen and put some coffee on, checking her cell phone for messages while the coffee brewed, though she knew it hadn’t rung.

Still no call from Maggie. Even if she was angry, it just wasn’t like her chatty friend to ignore messages. Brinna punched in Maggie’s number one more time and left a third message. After closing the phone, she said under her breath, “Call me, Maggie . . . please call.”

The coffee had just finished when Jack arrived. Rose and
Ivana sat on the couch, where Rose had begun teaching the girl how to crochet.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better,” Jack said, smiling at Ivana. “The color has come back to your face. You look well.”

Ivana returned the smile and nodded, but Brinna noted that she would not look Jack in the eye. She also kept a firm grip on Rose’s hand.

Jack sat on the coffee table across from Ivana. He held his hands out, palms up. “I’m not here to frighten or intimidate you. I’m here to help you; I promise.” He placed a digital recorder beside him on the table. “This interview will be taped so everything we say is recorded accurately.”

Jack wore no cop face today. His expression was friendly and soft. It said,
You can trust me.
Brinna felt such a warmth inside as she watched him. He was professional and courteous, and she bet he could put anyone at ease. He started recording, first stating the date and time of the interview and persons present before he addressed Ivana.

“I’m afraid I have to start with some unpleasant business.” He pulled a manila envelope out of his briefcase and opened the clasp but didn’t take anything out. “I have a picture here of a young girl we found murdered about a week before you were pulled out of the river.”

Brinna watched as Ivana stiffened perceptibly. For the first time since he’d come into the house, she raised her head and looked Jack in the eye.

“My sister, Villie?” she asked in a low but firm voice.

“I don’t know. I need you to tell me,” Jack said quietly. “The pictures aren’t pretty. Are you ready to take a look?”

Ivana squared her shoulders and nodded. Jack took two pictures from the envelope and showed Ivana the top one. Her eyes closed and tears leaked out the corners.

“Yes, that is Villie, my sister,” she said without hesitation.

Rose put an arm over her shoulders and squeezed.

“I’m sorry, Ivana,” Jack said, tone calm and soothing. “But now that she has a name and you are here to tell me what you know about what happened to her, we are that much closer to catching whoever did this to her.”

“I understand, and I want to help.” Ivana wiped the tears away with the back of one hand and again looked at Jack. “Demitri killed her; I’m certain.” She held his gaze as he began to ask questions.

“What did Demitri do that you saw?”

“He beat her when she defied him. When girls defied him, he would take them from the house. He said it was to give them to a brutal man as punishment. This happened once before to Villie and she came back, but
 
—” She sputtered and stifled a sob, and Jack gave her a minute before continuing.

As Brinna sat across the room and listened, she found herself surprised and impressed by Ivana’s strength. The girl kept her composure as she told about their life in forced prostitution.

Brinna said nothing, not wanting to interfere or interrupt Jack’s line of thought or questioning. She couldn’t help but be inspired by his style. Jack was all about making Ivana feel at ease, and Brinna gave him points for being professional and nonthreatening.

“The tattoo that you both have.” Jack pointed to a close-up of the rose tattoo. “What does it signify?”

“It was something Demitri insisted we all have done before leaving Bulgaria. He said it was his mark, and it was important that all his girls have one, whether they wanted one or not. I want to get mine off!” She made a fist and pounded the air.

Jack asked her about how they came to America, and Ivana explained that they first flew to Canada
 
—Vancouver. It was still an adventure then. Demitri hadn’t yet revealed his true intentions. In Vancouver they had boarded a ship. She and Villie and four other girls shared a square, windowless room on the ship. They were not allowed out until they reached California.

Ivana had to pause for a second. She asked Rose for some water. After drinking half a glass, she continued. The quarters were cramped and stifling and the passage difficult, but all the girls were excited about the prospect of America and the jobs Demitri had promised them. Things were fine until they approached the port of Long Beach. That was where things started to go sour. Demitri confiscated everyone’s passports and gave Villie her first beating. Ivana, Villie, and the other girls were taken straight from the ship to a large warehouse.

Villie got her second beating when she asked Demitri why they weren’t entering the United States legally since they had passports. It was in the warehouse that Demitri told them all what their jobs would really be. Ivana’s expression hardened, and her eyes wandered to the manila envelope Jack still held in his hands.

“Liar,” she spit out. “He lied to us all.”

Jack nodded in agreement. “We’ll stop him. Tell me as much as you can remember about the men who came here with you.”

Ivana described four men besides Demitri. The only other names she knew were Simon and Sergei. And she only knew first names. She’d never heard last names from the men. There was always one man with Demitri, but he never stayed at the house, so she didn’t know his name. Simon was the man who ran the house where she was kept. He was the man she ran away from. Ivana’s voice faltered, and tears began to fall anew.

As Ivana related the horrors she and the other girls were subjected to in that warehouse on their first day in America, Brinna’s fingernails dug into the recliner and anger surged. This Demitri was as bad as any child predator. He needed to be stopped, and Brinna planned to do everything in her power to stop him.

There was a pause in the interview as Rose began to cry with Ivana. Jack shut the recorder off and glanced at Brinna.

“Water?” Brinna asked Jack, and he nodded.

She couldn’t help but notice that Jack’s eyes were moist as well, and she was touched.
He feels Ivana’s pain,
she thought as she stood to get the water.
But then, am I surprised? He’s a good cop
 
—a great advocate for victims.

After more water and a lot of Kleenex, Ivana was ready to continue. She explained why she and Villie were so eager to come to America and why it was so easy to believe everything Demitri had told them.

In a halting voice, Ivana told him how Demitri had
approached her at the orphanage in her hometown. She explained that on her eighteenth birthday she had to leave the orphanage whether she was ready to go or not. Her first plan was to join her older sister, Villie, who had a job sweeping the city streets in Sofia. The job didn’t pay much, but it enabled Villie to rent a room in the city, a room she shared with two other girls. Ivana felt certain she could get the same job and then live with her sister. This was better than sleeping on the streets, which happened to many other orphans.

Then Demitri came to visit. He was a prosperous businessman, he said. Tall, with broad shoulders and dark hair, gray at the temples, Demitri had a winning smile. He came to the orphanage interested in all the young women who would be turning eighteen. He spun stories about America, how the girls could find good jobs and live in nice houses. One time he visited with a girl he introduced as his daughter, not much older than Villie, who had moved to America, had a job, and told stories about endless opportunities. Ivana could get one of these jobs, Demitri told her. She wouldn’t have to sweep streets and share a bedroom in someone else’s house.

At first Ivana said no. She told Demitri she could not leave her sister. Demitri then wanted to meet Villie. One afternoon he took Ivana from the orphanage, and they met Villie at a restaurant. Demitri fed them better than they had ever been fed and told them he would take them both to America and find them wonderful jobs, perhaps working for a movie star who needed a nanny for her children.

It was here Ivana broke down. She sobbed for her sister.
“She was so excited about coming here. It’s my fault. If we had stayed in Bulgaria, Villie would still be alive.”

Jack shook his head. “Don’t blame yourself. The only person to blame is Demitri. He took advantage of both of you in the worst way. It’s my job to see that he pays for that and that he never takes advantage of another young woman again.”

When Ivana calmed down, Jack turned the line of questioning to the house where Ivana and the other girls were kept. She couldn’t tell him much about the place. She and the other girls had been brought there in a van without windows. On the evening she ran away, it had been dark and raining. She accidentally found the river and thought she could swim across, but the current was too strong.

No, she didn’t think she’d recognize the place if she saw it again. She would drive with Jack through the neighborhoods but wasn’t certain she would recognize anything.

“This is a lot for her to take in on one day,” Rose said, interrupting Jack. “Maybe tomorrow would be a better day for her to take that drive.”

“Sure, Rose, that’s probably a good suggestion. One more question and then I’ll go. Ivana, did you ever meet a woman named Magda? She owns a shop here in Long Beach called Black Sea Folk Art and Collectibles.”

Ivana frowned. “I don’t know the name, no. But the girl Demitri brought to visit the orphanage worked at a shop somewhere in California. If I saw the girl again, I would know her.”

“Great. Thanks for all your help.” Jack stood. “Now, you relax and get better. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.” He turned to Brinna. “Walk out with me, Brin?”

“Sure.” Brinna opened the door and walked with Jack to the plain car parked at the curb. “She really can’t help you much, can she?”

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. This lead about the girl who came to visit with Demitri to talk about working in America may be something. Ben and I spoke to this Magda, the shop owner. She has a Bulgarian clerk. And we both thought she may have been hiding something.”

“You think she is involved in the actual trafficking?” Brinna shoved her hands in her pockets, brows furrowed. Though women often could be as vicious as men, it always surprised her when a woman was guilty of exploiting another woman or young girl.

“She’s got a doorway: this import business of hers is thriving. Ben is crawling through any and all records he can get his hands on. For all we know, she’s bringing girls in with her collectibles.”