The Killer's New Wife

“I didn’t know he had a daughter,” she said, and her voice was draped with surprise. “That must have been hard. Very, very hard.”

I looked at Ewan for help. I didn’t know what to say to this girl. I didn’t know her at all, but apparently, she knew my father, and suddenly Ewan’s story about him selling girls seemed plausible, almost likely, and all those late nights made sense, all those odd hours and all that time spent with the Healy family. I spent my life making excuses, convincing myself that he was only an accountant, but god, that was a lie, it was all a fucking lie, my entire life was a lie.

I stumbled to one of the chairs and collapsed down into it. I heard Ewan say distantly, “She just found out what her dad did for a living.”

“Shit,” Irina said. “I almost feel sorry for her. Although her dad was a real piece of trash and I don’t miss him. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“Thank the Don,” Ewan said. “Get Lotte for me, please.”

Irina said something in another language then left the room. I stared at Ewan as he sat down beside me, in his dark jeans and black t-shirt, his arms muscular, his eyes sad.

“I told you it would be hard,” he said. “I’m sorry we came here.”

“Did my dad bring her over here?” I asked, blinking rapidly. “Did he rape her?”

“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “He likely was a part of the group that shipped Irina over here, yes. I doubt he touched her though. That wasn’t his style.”

“His style,” I said, and leaned forward. I retched once, but nothing came out. I was happy I hadn’t had anything but coffee then, otherwise I would’ve lost it all over the floor.

He rubbed my back. I wanted to throw him off, but I couldn’t move. I hugged myself, head between my knees. “What did he do?” I managed to ask, eyes squeezed shut.

“He was an independent contractor,” Ewan said, his voice steady. “Arranged for transportation. Bribed ship captains and port authorities. He had a network of scouts in Ukraine, in Russia, in all those former Soviet countries looking for poor girls from bad families that were willing to do anything to escape their lives. He took advantage, and he used them up, brought them to places like this, where they sell their bodies for money.” The more he spoke, the more anger slipped into his tone. “He didn’t get his hands dirty, if that’s what you’re wondering. He sold girls to all the major families. Mostly to the Healys, since they’re deep into the trafficking world, but also to the Valentino family in the past few years. Your father didn’t give a damn who bought the girls, so long as he got paid.” He clamped his jaw shut and stopped talking then, and I saw the anger buzz through him like a wave.

It didn’t make me feel any better. I was dizzy from the thought of my father arranging for the transportation of young girls so they could be used as whores. I felt a sudden stab of hatred, at myself and at my father. That house I lived in, all those things I had, my entire life was built on the bodies of these poor, used-up girls, and I was suddenly happy it all went up in smoke.

And I hated Ewan for showing this to me, even if I wanted it.

Another girl came into the room. I managed to look up. She had thick dirty-blonde hair and long acrylic nails. She wore a white robe, tied loosely in the front, and her large breasts nearly spilled out the slit. She had to be at least thirty, and was chewing gum with a frown. She was pretty, though gaunt and ghostly, like Irina, but worse.

“Hey, Lotte,” Ewan said.

“This the girl?” She had a nice voice, almost melodic.

I blinked at her. “I’m Tara,” I said. “I didn’t know.”

She stared at me and chewed, her hands on her hips. Nobody spoke for a minute. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t want her to feel like she had to comfort me. She had it worse, anyway.

“Well, shit,” she said and walked over. She sat next to me and turned her knees in my direction. “What do you want to know?”

I opened my mouth, but noting came out. I shook my head. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I had no clue.”

“Of course not,” she said, and looked at Ewan like, what the fuck is this?

Ewan sighed and stood up. He walked over to the counter and leaned against it. “Who’s running this place right now, Lotte?” he asked.

“I am,” she said. “Been trying to clean it up. Are the Valentinos sending someone new to take over?”