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He glances at me nervously, “She won’t speak at all?” He says to Max.
“I’m on my way,” he says and then disconnects the call.
“We need to go to the safe house.”
Silently I get up and follow him out to the car. I’m not sure what’s going on, but Hunter seems on edge, so I don’t barrage him with my normal onslaught of questions. When he starts driving, he takes a big breath, “They found the facility where a lot of women were being held. All the women are spread out amongst various safehouses. They may not be in good condition. I don’t know what you’ll see.”
Is that what he’s so worried about? My state of mind after seeing the trafficking victims?
“I promise you, Hunter, I’ll be fine. I’ve seen terrible things. I’ll be okay.”
When we walk into the house there are many women in the kitchen and living room eating. Max approaches us, “Thanks for coming.”
Hunter’s glance darts around at the different women and Max says, “She’s not down here. She won’t eat. Speak. Nothing. She just sits on her knees. Won’t even sit on the fucking chair.”
I glance at them wondering who they are talking about but again I don’t ask questions.
We follow Max upstairs to a bedroom, he opens the door, and I follow Hunter inside. A woman kneels beside the bed, her head is down, dark oily hair hangs to her shoulders, she’s still as stone. I don’t know why but something draws me to her. Walking over to her, Hunter snaps, “Sassy, no!” I kneel in front of her and gently stroke her hair, “You’re safe now. These people will not hurt you.”
Slowly she lifts her head, and eyes that match mine, bore into me.
“Mom,” I sob, bringing my palm to my face in shock.
Her shock mirrors my own, “Jade?”
“Mom,” I cry again as I wrap my arms around her. She’s alive. That asshole lied to me. He sold her instead of killing her. Hunter sits in the chair, watching us. I look at him, “She’s coming home with us.”
But it’s Max that replies, “No. None of them will be leaving. It’s not safe. Besides, I have doctors, and therapists on staff.”
I look at the gentle giant, “Can I visit her?”
He snorts, “Of course. Maybe you can convince her to eat.”
Sitting back on my knees, I tell her firmly, “You have to eat, Mom. For me if not for yourself. I need you. We need you.”
I take her hand and put it on my stomach, and she cries, “Tell me you’re not having his child.”
I shake my head and motion for Hunter to come over, he does and kneels beside me, “Hello Mrs. Sinclair. I’m Hunter. I’m not sure if you remember me.”
She glares at him, “Do not call me that,” she says through gritted teeth.
“It’s Julianna. Not Mrs. Sinclair.”
He smiles warmly at her, “Very well, Julianna it’s good to see you again.”
I take her hand, “Mom, Hunter is my baby’s father.”
She shakes her head, “And your father?”
“They’re both dead,” I offer.
My mom sobs in relief, “I tried so hard to protect you. I’m so sorry.”
Kissing her on the cheek, I tell her the truth, “It’s over mom. I’m happy now and you can be too. Do what they tell you. Eat, take care of yourself, talk to the doctors. They can help you.”
She nods and asks, “How did they die?”
Hunter responds, “Painfully. Although, it could never be what they deserved.”
