Never Tell (May Moore Suspense Thriller 2)

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

“Be quiet,” Anya breathed to May. She looked about to burst into tears as the footsteps came closer.

May watched the door, feeling as if she’d gotten herself embroiled into a nightmare that had exploded out of all proportions.

And then, the footsteps passed by. She heard the squeak of hinges as a door ahead opened, and the sound of low voices. Then the door closed.

“That is one of the guards,” the woman explained. Her eyes were brimming with tears. “They come here sometimes. Some of us—we are willing to do extra things, in exchange for money, so we can pay off our debt to the hotel sooner.”

“That’s terrible,” Owen breathed. He looked utterly appalled.

“The women who choose to do this usually get paid five dollars a time,” Anya explained. “I do not choose to do this. But for some, they hope they can get out faster this way. It is better than living like this. Better than staying here, in this prison.”

May glanced at Owen.

The five-dollar bill stuffed into the throats of the two victims was no coincidence. This was all leading back to the same set of circumstances.

May simply couldn’t believe that such a dreadful, abusive practice was taking place—in their own county! These women, who were being held against their will and forced into slavery and prostitution, were living just a few miles from their own town.

She knew that there was a problem with human trafficking in the US, and it was constantly on the news. But to her, it had always seemed to be something that happened in other places. Not right on her own doorstep. In her jurisdiction.

“Please, can you give me some more information?” she said. “Who are the people who are abusing you, who are sleeping with you?”

The woman’s eyes filled with tears.

“You promise me you will help us?” she asked. “Please, you must help us.”

May looked at Owen, who nodded.

“I promise you,” May said. She wasn’t going to leave until she had a plan of action in place.

But first, she needed as many facts as she could get. There were now two crimes they had to deal with. Human trafficking and murder. Undoubtedly they were related to the same set of activities.

“How many hotels are involved? Is it just here in Minnesota? Do you know?”

Anya tilted her head. “The guards, they sometimes talk.”

That was lucky, May thought.

“What do they say?”

“I think there are only two hotels involved so far. This one, which is the Mount Amethyst, and another one, which is the Lakeside Heights. I have never been there. But from what the guards overhear and tell us, they are planning more. I believe it is very successful. They are making a lot of money without paying for any cleaning or waitressing services. The hotels have become extremely profitable. The guards said they are going to recruit builders next. Then models, to be used in a few of the strip clubs that this company owns.” Her voice was bitter.

May had a feeling that Reed Leisure had long-term plans, and that Madeline’s death would be only a temporary spoke in the wheel. She was sure that having seen how lucrative this model was, Bert Reed would want to use it over and over.

Slavery was the cheapest form of labor.

They wouldn’t have to pay a salary. They wouldn’t have to pay for cleaning or waitressing services, or even for the labor costs in the hotel’s new wing. All they would have to do was source the workers.

It was a sickening thought.

“So only the two hotels?” May’s mind was already racing. “Anya, please tell me. This is very important. Who are the men who sleep with you?”

“One of them was Danny. The hotel builder, or the architect, I think. He sleeps with whoever he can. He is a monster, and abusive. Then there are some of the guards who do the same, and also a few of the other managers and workers. The manager, Lewis, is one of the worst. He was very close to the woman who brought us here. He was, like, her second in command, and seems to know everything. He was the one who took our passports and kept them. He punishes us if we get out of line, and he takes videos of what he does.”

“We’ve heard of Lewis. Can you tell me all the other names you know?” Owen asked softly. “Or better still, write them down for me?”

“Sure. I do not know them all, but I know some names.”

Anya took the pen and began writing.

As she did, May thought about what she’d said. Danny was dead.

Was the killer punishing everyone involved in this scheme? May thought so. In that case, Lewis might well be targeted next, as Madeline’s second in command who had most likely taken over when she started to realize the FBI was scrutinizing her.

But how was she going to find the killer? And where would this killer strike again?

“Has anyone tried to escape?” she asked, wondering if anyone had.

Anya nodded.

“Two girls tried. One, Katia, was punished so badly I could not tell you what she went through. She was moved to the other hotel. And the other, Zinaida, disappeared. They said that they found her body, but never told us how she died.” Anya paused. “Another woman, Laima, died here before I arrived. She was sleeping with men to try and pay her way out faster. Something went wrong, and she was killed.”

“Has anyone ever tried to help you?” Surely someone could have done something, May wondered.

Anya nodded again. “Last year, one of the hotel’s waiters found out and became very angry. But he was instantly fired. I don’t think he had the chance to try and help us, but we still hope.”

“What was his name?”

“His name was Sam. I don’t know his last name.”