Page 2 of Unaware

Cora's body bore evidence of a lifetime of combat. First, in the Navy SEALs, then in the FBI, and now, in her early thirties, on her own as a private investigator. Now, here she was, on the most important mission of her career so far.

It was early evening, and ahead of her, as they turned down the main boulevard, she saw the Eiffel Tower in the distance, glowing in its brilliantly lit splendor.

She didn't do more than glance at the iconic landmark. By her side, Gabe gave it a longer look, and an admiring murmur, before turning his attention back to their surroundings.

Gabriel Finch had insisted on coming with her. The tall linebacker-built man, with his broad shoulders and his easygoing nature, his warm green eyes and his dirty blond hair, looked even more intent than she felt.

There was a reason for that. It wasn't something that Gabe, her long-time friend and recent lover, could help, but it also wasn't something he could avoid.

And it wasn’t something she was ready to talk about with Gabe. She knew she never would be.

Cora's sister, Rose, had been abducted by Gabe's father, Buddy. Buddy had worked as a sports coach at the school. He'd abused his trusted position. He'd grabbed Rose and kept her, and it was only recently that Cora had pieced together what had happened and had confronted Buddy.

He'd been living all alone, up in a mountaintop cabin, and she'd never forget the shouted words, the deadly scene that had played out, and the way he'd reached for his gun as the pressure intensified. He'd shot himself, but first, he'd told her that Rose had escaped him and gotten together with Mario, a mob employee.

Mario had since betrayed the Mob and suffered the consequences, and Rose had been shipped out of the country a couple of years ago by traffickers who worked between the US and Europe.

Rage filled Cora as she thought about her beautiful sister, in her late twenties at the time, suffering that fate. Was she still alive? She knew that for trafficked women, the expectancy of their life and health was short.

In other times that anger would have been enough for Cora to turn to drugs and alcohol, desperate for the darkness they brought. But recently, they had stopped calling her so hard, and she knew that was because of Gabe. He was someone she could lean on and who leaned on her in turn. And surprisingly, being leaned on helped the darkness to retreat even further.

"I think the red light district should be down this way," Gabe said, pointing. "The biggest of the districts, anyway, is in Pigalle. There are probably others, but this is the most famous. We’re almost there."

Cora didn't know if this would be where she would find Rose. Probably not, she acknowledged, but she first needed to find someone who could point the way. That was why they were heading there.

They strode down the winding streets, with Gabe navigating the fastest way through the city's back roads. They passed late-night stores and restaurants aplenty. Smells of cooking wafted toward them on the light breeze - garlic, grilled steak, the rich smell of seafood. People were drinking wine and conversing, relaxing in the city, oblivious to its underworld. But Cora was open to it and ready to dig it out. As they strode along, she was looking out, hoping to find what she needed.

"Tiny streets," Gabe observed.

"They're cramped as anything," she agreed. "I wouldn't want to drive a truck here. Or even your pickup."

"No way," Gabe agreed as they veered left and headed down yet another narrow, cobbled lane, with the buildings looming high on either side.

They were keeping the conversation deliberately light, and from her side, Cora knew there was a lot she wasn't ready to speak about. Thefact, they were now together as partners, as lovers, and also on a dangerous mission. This was new territory for her with Gabe. He was being easy and relaxed about it on the surface, but she wondered if, inside, he might feel awkward too.

“Are you okay with this?” she asked, wanting to get the topic out in the open.

“With being here? Being with you?”

She nodded. “I feel we’re in uncharted waters. I guess – I just want to be sure you are okay. That’s all.”

He moved closer to her so that their arms were touching. Briefly, he squeezed her hand.

“I’m more than okay. I’m grateful to be here with you. Whatever’s ahead, we’ll face it. Together. And we’ll find her, Cora. That’s my promise to us. We've come here for answers, and we're going to get them. Whatever it takes.”

She glanced at him, nodding briefly, feeling relieved that he was fully committed to this, but the anxiety didn’t leave her.

Gabe might be a head taller than her and twice as wide in the shoulders, but he was new to this world, and she didn't want him hurt. She’d need to look out for him and make sure hestayedokay.

As they'd been walking, she'd been scanning the area, and she'd seen more than one woman in bright red lipstick, fishnet tights, and short skirts lingering near corners or near doorways. They had tattoos on their arms, and they wore high heels that they navigated the cobblestones with expertise. High heels weren't Cora's strength. She could run a fast mile, she could climb an obstacle course, and she was an accurate shot. But heels? One step and she'd fall over.

She'd be more competent at stabbing someone with a stiletto than wearing it herself, she thought wryly.

But they were in the right place now. Every step brought more presence of neon signs, bright windows, signage pointing the way to dark doorways, behind which were adult shows, the presence of red, bright and flashing everywhere. They all confirmed that they were now in the infamous few blocks of Paris that was prostitution's epicenter. This was where the majority of the sex workers operated.

Rose wasn’t a sex worker. She was a slave, Cora knew. But people knew people. The world was small. If you were in Paris, this area was where you came to look for paid pleasure. And if you were a brothel owner with a few trafficked workers earning you money, then maybe this was where you’d set up shop.

"We don't need a high street place," she muttered. "We need a backstreet place. We’ve got to find out where other people have been trafficked. That will get us into the network."

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