The Woman at the Docks (Grassi Framily)

"Incredibly, yes," Lucky said, shaking his head. "I've never seen anything like this one before, though. Whoever is running this seems to actually have a head on their shoulders," he told me, taking a flashlight out of his pocket, handing it to me as we rounded on an open container.

Taking a breath, I flicked on the flashlight, shining it around the long, narrow space.

Lucky was right.

Whoever ran this had put some thought into it.

There were still many stores of food and water. In case of some sort of hold up. There were makeshift beds on the floor, made out of what looked like thick rugs sewn together. And, the most innovative of all, there was what seemed to be a set of composting toilets to one side in the far back.

There was food, there were blankets and battery-operated fans, there was proper sanitation, and an entire container full of what seemed to be a couple dozen women and girls.

"I'm rusty on my Spanish, but I think I managed to tell them they are safe, and that they will be going home soon."

I gave him a nod, flashing the light around, trying not to hit anyone directly in the eyes, but needing to look, needing to know if I had good news to give Romy or not.

"We already looked, Luca," Lucky told me. "She's not here," he added, making my chest fall.

If she wasn't here, what did that mean?

That she hadn't been shipped yet?

Or that we had simply missed her? That she was already in the hands of men who paid for unwilling women?

My stomach twisted.

How the hell was I supposed to go home and give her that news? That we saved two dozen others, but not her sister?

Christ.

"I owe Romy an apology. If we ever see her again."

'Yeah," I agreed, lowering the light, "you do," I said, moving away from the container, giving a nod to Angelo who stood by with Michael as Lucky and I followed the flashing lights to the parking lot.

When we got there, my father and brother were already talking to one of the local detectives, a man by the name of Lloyd who simply couldn't be bought like most of the men and women on the force could be.

That said, he was a reasonable man. So long as we weren't bringing drugs into the area or hurting any innocents, he generally left us alone unless he thought we were doing something shadier than usual.

"Luca," he greeted as I walked up, waving a few uniformed officers past us.

"My men will bring them there," my father told him, getting a nod.

"And you said you were doing some routine inspections, and you came across a container full of women from.."

"Venezuela," I filled in for him.

"That's a long way for trafficking."

"You should see the container," I told him, shaking my head.

"We are going to need the details of the client."

"Our security team will give you what you need."

"I ap

preciate the cooperation. Do any of the women look ill? Injured?" he asked as the sounds of the ambulances made their way closer.

"Not from what we could tell with a quick look via flashlight," I told him.