Page 67 of Kyle

“Yo,” I returned. “Didn’t know you were home.”

“Just got home and was trying to sleep, but you’re making a fuckin’ racket.”

I smiled and shook my head.

“We’re sorry, Declan. We thought we were alone,” Anaya apologized.

“Sweetheart, he’s full of shit. We didn’t wake him.”

I knew Declan; he was up in his room going over case files. No way he’d sleep until he went over all the intel we got yesterday.

“I hope you made enough food because now that I’m awake, I’m starving.”

“Right,” I mumbled and grabbed all the fixings for a sandwich back out of the fridge.

“How’s your nephew?” Anaya asked.

“Fuckin’ perfect. He looks just like Violet.”

The sadness in his tone belied his words and I wondered if Anaya could hear it, too. I definitely needed to carve out some time to check on my friend. Now that I understood a little of what he’d lost, two babies being born had to be a kick in the gut for the man.

I quickly slapped together another sandwich and joined them in the living room.

“Find anything?” I asked Dec as I sat next to Anaya.

“No. I ran some searches on the tattoo. But without a clear image or the QR code I can’t match it up to any of the others I found. Though, I have to say, tatting bar codes on the girls is a whole new level of fucked.”

I had to agree.

“In all the years I’ve worked human trafficking, I’ve never seen one.”

“Probably because your role was stopping the girls from being delivered,” Anaya said. “And the pimps got smart and no longer tattoo the wrists. They now tat places that can’t be seen, like on the girl’s back. Some even have them on their butt cheek.”

“Jesus fuck,” Dec muttered.

“At least in those places, after a girl is rescued, she doesn’t have to see the scar that laser removal leaves. If she’s lucky enough to have the resources to have it removed.”

What kind of sick world did we live in that we were having a conversation about girls being bar coded like they were products on a shelf?

“I texted the man who’s sitting on Monica and asked him if he could send us a clear picture of the QR code.” Before I could ask Dec what the man said, his face contorted and he sneered, “He said Monica won’t allow him close enough and he refuses to restrain her to get the picture.”

“He can’t touch her,” Anaya snapped.

Dec studied Anaya for a moment and masked his disgust about the situation.

“He won’t,” he said softly. “That’s one of the reasons Monica hasn’t been brought to Maryland. Jeremy’s well-versed in victim recovery and assistance.”

“May I read the file on Monica?” Anaya asked.

“When you’re feeling better.”

“Yes,” Declan said at the same time.

I cut my eyes to Dec and shook my head.

“Kyle,” Anaya murmured. “You’re making me sit like a bump on a log for two days. Reading the file will give me something to do.”

“You need to relax, not read the gory details of this girl’s life.”