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I nodded my head. “He knows it's Derek, that’s more than anyone else can say, so I think he has a chance.”
One of the girls across the room cleared her throat. “Do you think he’ll even look since Derek did that to him?”
“I think it’ll make him look harder. Maverick was afraid of Derek for my safety, and now it's gone out of the window, he has nothing left to lose. Maverick will find us. I know it.”
***
Maverick
I didn’t want to risk shooting the guy, and a neighbor calling the cops, then Derek finding out I found one of his locations. It would take him two minutes to put a bullet in Josie’s head or ship her out of Louisiana. I didn’t trust the police department, with Derek being an influential professor and gallery owner; I didn’t want to gamble with Josie’s life.
The less attention I drew to them, for the time being, the better. Instead, I ushered the girls into my pickup. “I need your help.”
The one who spoke up in the basement looked over at me with a worried look. “What are you going to do with us?”
“I’m going to let you go,” I said flabbergasted. “But I need to find my girlfriend first. I don’t want you to go to the police until I’ve found my girlfriend because if Derek gets wind that they’re after him, I know he’ll kill her.”
One of the younger ones began to cry. I wanted to soothe her, tell her it would be okay, but all I could think about was what Derek had in store for Josie.
“Have any of you been to another house of his? Is there anyone else that you’ve seen instead of the guy inside? Or maybe heard them talk about something that I could use?”
The desperation in my voice hung heavy in the silent cab of my pickup.
No one said anything, drawing my anger to a point, and I clutched my palms around the steering wheel to calm myself. “Please,” I whispered, closing my eyes.
Every time they closed, all I could see was Josie chained to some cement wall with Derek over her, doing only God knew. The smallest one, with ratted brown hair and bones poking against her skin, said, “Just the guy in charge. He comes by now and again. Not often. I’ve been to one other place in Baton Rouge, the one with the red door.”
I put my truck into drive and nodded. “Okay. We’re going back to Baton Rouge.”
I didn’t know what to say to these girls, so I didn’t say anything. We rode the twenty minutes back to town in silence. I figured they were hungry but I didn’t have any food, and what would a ride through the drive-thru with a bunch of half-dressed, dirty girls look like?
The good guy in me told me to run inside a convenience store and feed them, but that could cost Josie her life. When we rode past the green population sign, I glanced at the small girl curled into a ball. “Do you remember anything surrounding the red door?”
She thought about it, biting her lip until it turned red beneath her teeth. “I can’t remember,” she whispered to herself. “They drugged me at band practice—after band practice underneath the bleachers—that boy, I don’t remember his name, and then I remember an abandoned gas station and a red door.”
Okay, that’s better than nothing.I knew enough about the town to know of a few abandoned gas stations, so I drove toward one, realizing one of the girls started shivering beside me, her teeth chattering.
Gripping the wheel, I took a turn toward our apartment. I had all the information those girls could give me. I parked and opened my door. They all looked over at me with worried expressions. “You’ll stay here until I find my girlfriend, then we’re calling the police. Come on.”
Reluctantly, they got out and followed me swiftly up to my apartment building. I pushed the door open to Frankie and Jordan sitting in the living room.
Jordan’s mouth dropped. “What in the Hell,” he whispered as I ushered them through the door.
Frankie stood still with wide eyes, avoiding anyone’s gaze as the half-dressed girls stood in a small circle.
“Um, you gonna tell us what this is?” Jordan asked.
I pressed my palm down my face. “Josie’s been kidnapped. I went after the guy that did it, and found all these girls in a sex trafficking ring.”
Jordan blinked several times. “You’re serious, Booker? Why haven’t you called the cops?” he asked, pulling out his phone.
I slapped it down dramatically, my adrenaline spiked at the thought of tipping Derek off. “Not yet. He’ll kill her if he gets wind that I’ve found them.”
“Who is he?” Jordan asked.
“Derek Howard.”
Jordan eyed me suspiciously, not believing it, because who would? “Josie’s professor? Do you think he kidnapped her? Come on, Booker—,”
