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When Shep and Jonesy enter the east bedroom, there’s a girl huddled in the corner of the room. Thankfully, this one is awake. The other four are all knocked out.
Or maybe they’re playing dead. I wouldn’t blame them.
“Hi there. It’s okay. Stay calm,” Shep whispers. Through the chest cam, I see his hands raised in front of him. “We’re here to help you. See. Look at my face.”
He must be raising his mask to show her his face, likely aiming to keep her calm.
“What’s your name?” Shep asks.
“Sa-Sara,” she replies meekly.
Poor kid can’t be more than fifteen and is in her bra and underwear.
“She’s just a baby,” Jonesy mutters.
“Sara, my name is Shepherd. Do you have any clothes you can put on? I want to get you out of here right now. We need to stay very quiet.”
He’s so sweet, trying to comfort her and protect her innocence.
But it’s already been taken from her, along with her clothes.
She shakes her head, tears welling over. “They took them all.”
“Okay. That’s fine. Let’s pretend it’s a swimsuit. Can I pick you up? I want to lower you out the window.”
She shivers and wraps her arms tighter around her drawn knees, clearly not trusting the situation.
“Shep, before you get her out of there, have her confirm tangos,” I instruct him.
“Sara, listen to me. Can you tell me how many men are in here? We counted six guys. Does that sound right to you?”
She nods, remaining silent.
“Do they have guns? Knives? What kind of weapons?”
“Yes,” she answers. “Both.”
“Any bombs or explosives? Did they warn you about any traps to stop you from escaping?”
“They never leave us alone in the house, and the windows don’t open from the inside. We can’t escape.”
“Okay. Good news, Sara. You’re escaping tonight. My friends and I were in the military. We’re good fighters. And we’ll get you and all the other girls out safely. I promise. You can trust me.”
His voice is calm and soothing. This must be hard for him, especially with Valerie being around this girl’s age. It’s probably triggering memories of our past work on the task force, much like it’s doing for me.
“Okay.” There’s a twinge of hope in her voice.
Jonesy lowers himself to her level, folding his large frame to appear less intimidating. “Sara, what kind of guns do they have?”
“I-I-I don’t know.”
“Big ones? Small ones?”
“Small ones.”
“That’s good. You’re doing great.”
“Ask her for a count of the girls,” I instruct them. “Does she know any names?”
