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Only those closest to her knew what had happened twelve years ago. She wanted neither the notoriety nor the attention that would come from publicizing her own experience. She did, however, want people to be informed. What they chose to do with that information was up to them. She had once lived in the darkness of unawareness, and her ignorance had almost gotten her killed.
This was her way of fighting evil. Some people wore a badge and carried a gun. She carried a camera and a microphone.
Her first documentary had been about human trafficking. The film had established her reputation as a hard-hitting but compassionate revealer of truth. It also won her several awards and more than a few enemies. When evil people’s livelihoods were threatened, they did everything they could to stop the truth.
The documentary had revealed that human trafficking happened, in every state and in every town, no matter how small. That it was an insidious, evil disease that destroyed lives and made greedy, vile people a lot of money.
Choosing human trafficking as the topic of her first documentary had been no accident. But for the grace of God, that’s exactly what would have happened to her. That was what they’d planned. She’d heard them. The British one—older and very much the leader of the group—had been talking. A lot of the conversation had been in a language she didn’t even recognize, but she’d heard enough English and French to get the gist. There had been a debate going on. Sell her or accept the offered ransom.
She’d been bleeding and beaten, so weak from pain and the breath-stealing pneumonia attacking her lungs, she could barely stay conscious, but she had been determined to listen, to know what was going to happen. Some man in Austria had made an offer. A ransom had been presented as well. Thankfully, the quick ransom money had been too hard to pass up.
But there had been others who hadn’t been as fortunate. She had seen them, heard them. Weeping, screaming, desolate, and hopeless. When she’d returned home, she’d told anyone who would listen that others needed saving. She’d insisted something be done about the ones left behind. Not only for them but also for the man she owed her life to. It had been weeks before she’d heard anything. She’d been unconscious much of the time, struggling to stay alive. When she had woken, finally cognizant of her surroundings, she’d asked. The news had been devastating. The prison had been decimated. Nothing remained.
But Lion had been there. He had existed, and he had kept her alive, given her the courage to survive. She had long accepted that he was dead but he still deserved justice. Who were those people who had captured them? Would she ever know the truth?
And those women had existed, too. What had happened to them? Had they been sold? To whom?
The evil that people could do to their fellow human beings no longer surprised her, and she was eons past being that innocent, naïve young woman. She had tried her best to not become hardened by that knowledge. Instead, she’d worked her butt off to try to change the world.
In that dark, filthy prison, she had prayed a thousand prayers and made a million promises. With fear, pain, and sorrow tearing and shredding her soul, she had faced d
ark truths and excruciating lies. At nineteen, she’d been a bit shallow and a lot vain. Not a bad person, but also not one who thought too deeply. Introspection had never been her strong suit, but when forced to deal with the possibility of her death, or worse, she’d done some major soul searching. That experience had changed her life and her focus.
She had vowed to do something of value, to make a difference. Even though acting touched a lot of lives, she’d realized she needed to do something more.
Many people had asked what inspired her, and she always gave a vague answer. The reasons she did what she did were many and varied. But in the back of her mind there was always the voice. The legacy of a man named Lion would live on through the work that she did. If she could do nothing else for him, she could at least do this.
She often wondered what might have happened if he had shown up that day at the library. Would they have gone to dinner that night? Seen each other the next day? And the day after that? Their connection had been real. She might’ve been naïve about many things back then, but not about this. They had connected on a level she’d never known existed. She doubted she’d ever have that kind of bond again. For the past few years, she had dated various men. Not one of them had ever given her the feeling of wholeness and completeness as her extremely short relationship with a man she’d never even seen.
In the dark of night, when demons hounded, she would often call up his voice in her mind. She wished she had told him that he had been an answer to one of her prayers. If he hadn’t been there, she would have just given up. She had been that lost, that hopeless.
The thought that he’d died without ever knowing what he had done for her, what he’d meant to her, hurt deep within her soul. How she longed for just one more moment so she could give him the words.
She was so lost in the memories that it took her several seconds to notice her phone was ringing. She glanced at the display, and her heart lightened. Her cousin Becca was one of her favorite people in the world.
Aubrey answered with a smile in her voice. “Hey, you. What are you doing up so early?”
“Early? It’s almost ten o’clock.”
Aubrey glanced at the clock on her laptop and verified the time. She also noted that she’d written almost seventeen pages. Sometimes her muse worked without her even being aware.
“Don’t tell me you worked all night again,” Becca said.
“No, just woke early and lost track of time.” Standing, she stretched her neck and back.
“Have you heard the news?”
“What news?”
“Lawrence Medford was found dead this morning.”
Aubrey dropped back into her chair, stunned. “What happened?”
“Believe it or not, he was bitten by a snake.”
“But where? We were scheduled for a meeting this afternoon. Where would he have encountered a snake?”
“Apparently, one crawled into his house.”
