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Chapter Thirteen
Sophia would have passed by if the person in such despair happened to be her age or older. After all, at some time or another, everyone had reasons for a breakdown and a need for privacy.
But having no doubts that from the sounds and size of the crier it was a very young girl, she couldn’t ignore the problem. What if whoever experienced such wretchedness had serious troubles and needed help? She didn’t have it in her to just ignore the obvious.
Instead, she approached slowly so as not to startle the girl and sat near her in the seat across. When the person sensed her sanctuary had been breached, she swiftly arched away in panic.
“It’s okay. Don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you,” Sophia spoke soothingly. She showed her hands to prove she was telling the truth, and using her training, gave the other enough space so as not to be invasive.
When she glanced up, Sophia saw her clearly. She looked like a Russian girl who worked in the FBI office back home, same shaped face and blonde hair. One difference was a black mole she had on the lower side of her left cheek. From her appearance, Sophia decided she probably came from somewhere in Eastern Europe. Sophia felt certain she wasn’t Greek.
Speaking softly, Sophia began a conversation. “I don’t want to intrude, honey, but I had the feeling it’s possible you need help. Hearing your cries, I couldn’t ignore that you might be in trouble.”
The girl swiped at her eyes, only to have them filling again. “You should not be here.” Her accent was strong, yet she spoke English. Appearing dumbfounded that anyone would approach and question her, she looked around behind Sophia as if she expected to see others there too.
If suspicion of a stranger’s interest had been her only reaction, Sophia might have left her to her sorrow. But this girl’s eyes were dilated with fear, and Sophia could smell her anxiety – it was that potent. Looking like a cornered animal, the youngster swiveled in the other direction to be sure no one else approached from that side either.
Another thing that blew Sophia’s mind was the drenched outfit the girl wore. The smudged mascara, low-cut top and tight skirt screamed hooker, and yet the wearer couldn’t have been more than fifteen… if that. It also appeared as if she’d taken a swim without disrobing.
Sophia had no idea what a kid was doing out on the beach in soggy clothes, crying her heart out, but she knew enough for her cop’s instincts to kick in big time. This kid was terrified, and Sophia had no intention of walking away.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Are you in trouble? My name is Sophia Dunne. Can I help?”
The girl rose and as if it used too much energy, she slumped back, her hands flapping around her as if she didn’t know what to say. Her thin strap slipped off her shoulder, which gave her the appearance of a child playing dress-up.
Maybe she didn’t understand English.Sophia asked her, “Do you know what I’m saying?”
Nodding, yet still not answering, she broke down yet again as if her heart would break. Sophia, unable to stop herself, moved in next to her and put her arms around the girl. “Tell me. I can help you. What’s your name?”
Broken spirit, her words strongly accented, she said, “Anastasia. Stasia.” More tears followed. “I’m big fool. I can’t do what they ask. I want to kill myself. I try, but I can swim.” At this point she wailed her words, making Sophia listen closely. “I save myself. Yet, I want to die. I need to die… because they won’t let me go.”
The last words were hysterical and so full of anguish that Sophia felt the tremors from the girl’s body enter her own. Anxiety, like what she sensed from her companion, crushed everything else from her mind. What was this all about? Gentle Jesus, this poor immigrant girl’s mutterings scared her, because she had an inkling of what she’d stumbled on to.
The human trafficking around the globe didn’t have a free pass in Greece. In fact, from her research she knew they had thousands being brought here every year to fill the menial, low-paying jobs the Greeks refused to do themselves. Every city needed the poor young people from uncaring countries willing to perform in unthinkable ways.
As soon as she’d seen her outfit, Sophia guessed what they’d set this kid up for. It wasn’t housework or a low-paid job. Everything inside her screamed no fucking way. This would not happen, not here, not tonight, not ever if she had her way.
“Come with me. We’ll get you out of here. Where you’ll be safe.”
Studying her character, the girl stared into Sophia’s face. Sophia held her stare, showing the kid she meant every word. Stasia nodded and started to stand. Something made her look over Sophia’s shoulder. Whatever she saw filled her face with horror.
