Scarlett tucked that fact away, wondering what Marcus could do to help the Bautistas find permanent refuge in the United States, assuming they even wanted it after the ordeal they’d suffered. They’d need sponsors and jobs. He could help with that.

‘Are Efren, John Paul and the other individuals taken from the factories in good health?’ Kate asked, making Scarlett like her even more.

Zimmerman shrugged. ‘None of them are starving to death, but they are not in the best of health. Many had been beaten. A lot of malnutrition. They’ve been grossly overworked and the conditions were deplorable – like something out of a nineteenth-century workhouse. Anders forced the lower-skilled workers to live there, and their dormitories were pretty bleak. Dirty, and hotter than hell. They were prisoners in every sense of the word. Those with more skilled positions, like Tala’s father, were allowed to leave the factory at night, but they wore trackers.’

‘What were they forced to do?’ Scarlett asked.

‘Nothing illegal as far as we can see,’ Zimmerman replied. ‘One factory processed chickens, the other sorted nuts. The third did manual envelope stuffing – coupons and such. It appears that Anders was doing very well. Everyone was busy working when we busted in. Not paying your workers allows you to underbid the competition,’ he added, not bothering to hide his disgust.

‘How many of the other workers wore the ankle trackers?’ Scarlett asked.

‘About a third,’ Zimmerman said. ‘We don’t know if that means that Anders got his workers from different sources or not. Hopefully the interviews with the victims will shed some light on this.’

Scarlett thought about Mila and Erica, afraid and on the run. ‘If any of the skilled workers happened to not be in the factories at the time of the raids, they might run. They need to know that they won’t be prosecuted, that Anders was lying and it’s safe to ask for help. You might consider utilizing the media to get the word out.’

Troy looked at Scarlett, his expression unreadable. ‘You’re talking about bringing in your reporter. He’s already written about it in his paper.’

My reporter. Yes. He is. Mine. ‘He’s the publisher of the Ledger,’ Scarlett said. ‘He’s also been embedded with our team while this case remains in motion.’

All three FBI agents turned and frowned at her. ‘You’re letting a reporter observe your investigation?’ Troy asked, sounding appalled.

‘He’s proven himself trustworthy so far,’ Scarlett said evenly, not allowing the defensiveness she felt to come out in her voice. ‘This story needs to be told for the sake of the victims and for those who have literally no idea that trafficking is happening in their town, right in front of their eyes. Marcus O’Bannion will tell the story the right way.’

‘He’s an almost-relative of mine,’ Deacon added. ‘In a sideways, by-marriage kind of way. From what I’ve seen, he’s a straight arrow.’

‘Almost-relative?’ Kate asked, looking mildly amused.

‘He’s my fiancée’s step-cousin.’ Deacon shrugged. ‘Faith adores him. Trusts him too, so that’s been good enough for me. I’d recommend using him when you want the media coverage. His paper used to be second in town, but he’s built the readership up since he took over five years ago, after returning from Iraq. In a year he’ll be ahead of the Enquirer.’

‘Iraq?’ Troy asked, a good deal of his doubt fading with that one word.

‘He was army,’ Scarlett said. ‘A Ranger. Served two tours.’

Troy nodded, looking convinced. ‘I want to meet him first.’

‘Of course,’ Scarlett said. ‘He’ll be with the SAR team and the priest we’ve asked to accompany them. Tala’s mother was seen with a rosary. We think she’ll trust a priest.’

‘The priest’s okay,’ Zimmerman told Troy before the man could utter a protest. ‘He’s a CPD chaplain.’

Scarlett’s brows raised, but she didn’t allow her surprise to show. ‘He is?’

Zimmerman’s lips curved, his eyes twinkling. ‘Didn’t he tell you when you called him?’

‘No,’ Scarlett said dryly. ‘He did not. He’s my uncle,’ she explained to the others. ‘I shouldn’t be surprised. Half of my family are cops. He’ll do a good job,’ she told Troy.

‘Isenberg had him checked out,’ Zimmerman added. ‘He’s got a cool head and experience.’

Scarlett swallowed what would have been a sigh of irritation. Of course Lynda would have her uncle checked out before allowing him access to victims. It might have been nice if Scarlett’s word had been enough, though.

‘What next?’ she asked the group. ‘We find Mila and her daughter, reunite them with her husband and son, and find out what they know about the people who brought them into the country?’

‘Maybe not in that order,’ Troy said. ‘But we will reunite them.’

‘Soon,’ Scarlett murmured. ‘They have a daughter to bury.’

‘Soon,’ Troy promised. ‘And I will try to get word to our operatives, see if either of them has heard anything about Anders’s capture. Anders is who I want. He knows the names of the traffickers, how much he’s paid them, and how he paid them. The victims may be able to describe faces, but it’s unlikely they’ll know any names. We also need to be aware that there may be other households in this area who’ve purchased families like the Bautistas. Hopefully those victims won’t come to any harm as we investigate.’

‘In the meantime, I want you all to be working together,’ Zimmerman instructed. ‘Troy and Coppola, stay in contact with Novak and Bishop. Trade information.’ He met Scarlett’s eyes. ‘Nothing that comes from us goes to the reporter without my explicit approval.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Scarlett said. ‘I understand.’

‘Thank you. Dismissed.’ Zimmerman stood up. ‘Deacon, I need to talk to you. Privately, please. In my office.’

Twenty-two

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 8.35 P.M.

Marcus parked his Subaru in his assigned slot under the Tower apartment building where he lived, and walked up the flight of stairs to the lobby, his mind on Scarlett. About what she’d told him. And about what he’d told her. He wondered if she’d Googled the kidnapping. If she now understood what he and Stone had been through. What his mother had endured. And what Matty had not survived.

He checked his phone, knowing that she wouldn’t have had time to text him yet. She was still in her meeting. And I have to get moving if I’m going to join the search for Mila and Erica. He jogged through the lobby, throwing up his hand in a wave to Edgar, who worked the desk.

Then he stopped cold. Because Edgar wasn’t at the desk. For the first time since Marcus had moved in five years before, the desk was empty.

‘Edgar?’ he called, the lobby sounding too empty. The hairs rose on the back of his neck. ‘Edgar?’

He rushed around the desk, hoping Edgar had simply taken a bathroom break, but his hope died the moment he saw the old man’s body slumped on the floor.

‘Oh my God.’ Dropping to his haunches, Marcus pressed his fingers to Edgar’s throat, trying to find a pulse. ‘Edgar. Edgar. Talk to me, buddy. Come on.’ Marcus’s own heart skittered when he found a very faint, feeble pulse. ‘Oh God,’ he breathed in relief.

But then new dread twisted his gut as he noticed what he had not before – the dark stain on Edgar’s uniform in the same place Tala’s had been that morning.

Grabbing his cell phone, Marcus called 911. ‘My name is Marcus O’Bannion. I’ve discovered the victim of a shooting in my apartment lobby,’ he said, and gave them the address. ‘His name is Edgar Kauffman. He’s about sixty years old. He’s been shot in the abdomen. He’s alive, but just barely.’

‘Help is on the way,’ the operator said. ‘Please stay on the line, sir.’