The quick research Eve had done said Willowby’s paternal side had come to the U.S. from England a couple hundred years before. Her maternal side had its roots in Iran, and she favored that with golden brown skin, amber eyes, sharp features.
“Thanks,” she said when Eve offered the coffee. “I read up on the case when McNab gave me the nudge. I want to say good job getting Jewell Gregg charged. If we find Dorian, she’ll have a chance now. Second.”
She paused, sipped coffee. Her eyes, heavily and beautifully lined and lashed, popped. “Okay, wait.” She sipped again. “You’re married, right?”
“Yeah.”
“If you weren’t, for this coffee, I’d get down on one knee right now. So, second, I want to offer my personal as well as professional kudos for kicking that useless Truman in the crotch.”
“You know her?”
“No, or I’d have given the crotch kick a solid try. But like I said, I read up. People like her screw up the system, screw up all the ones who work their asses off, and most important, screw up the kids. Dorian Gregg didn’t have much of a chance as things were. We find her, she does.”
“No sightings yet,” Eve said. “Not here, not back in Freehold.”
“She won’t go back there. Nothing there for her but misery. She won’t come in. She’s got no reason to trust the system. You think the same, that came across in your report. But you figure she got loose.”
“Why set her up for murder if you have her?”
“A couple possibilities. You keep her as a slave or you sell her off-planet or overseas. But…” Willowby gestured toward Dorian’s ID shot. “You could do that without the setup. You don’t need the setup. Mina’s dead. Making it look like a street crime, okay, but adding Dorian’s blood?”
“Vindictive,” Eve concluded. “Add the hope that would discredit her if and when she’s pulled in.”
“That’s how I see it. They—and no way this is a single abductor, or even a partnership—they’ve invested in these girls. The clothes, the food, the care. The time. Months for Mina. We can’t be sure how long for Dorian, but long enough for them to have formed an alliance.”
“‘Alliance,’” Eve repeated.
“Friendship’s possible, but an alliance absolutely. I’ve worked with victims who’ve gotten out of bondage or bad homes that way. It’s going to piss you off to lose that investment—times two. And it’s not impossible more got out. Maybe I think you’d have gotten wind of more, but not impossible.
“Can I sit?”
“Don’t sit there. Use the desk chair.”
“Okay, thanks. Siblings, for instance, may work together to get away from an abusive parent. Women or girls—because it usually is—held against their will may work together, even if it means just one getting out.”
Willowby cocked an ankle over her knee. “We can bust up, with time, trafficking operations that ship in a half dozen at a time, say. Bring them in on boats, mostly—the occasional charter—house them in some dump. Some put them right to work, the forced sex trade. A lot of times they’re promised a legit job to get them here. Modeling’s a classic for a reason, then they’re crammed together in a shithole, rented or sold. Drug them up, get them addicted. But that’s not this.”
“No, not a shithole, no drugs, no visible signs of physical abuse.”
With her eyes on the board, Willowby bounced her cocked foot. “Psychological abuse and torture. Lock them up in a dark room for a few days, or in a room where the lights blast and never go off. Run constant propaganda on a wall screen. Shock collars, shock sticks, something that doesn’t damage the product.”
She drank more coffee, savoring. “Offset that with rewards. Toys or games for younger ones, ice cream, candy. Affection. They’re going to crave it, especially the younger ones. A hug, a smile, a kiss on the head. It doesn’t take long for a kid—six, seven, eight—to fall in line. It does take consistency, a secure location, vigilance. Even then, some of these kids are tough customers, and they find a way out.”
She pointed toward the board again. “Those two? On the older edge for the kiddie porn racket, but they hit the Chicklet sweet spot.”
“‘Chicklet’？ I’ve heard that term.”
“Usually ages eleven to fourteen—boy or girl—starting to develop. Attractive—on the boys side usually at least somewhat androgenous. The user or buyer or viewer, depending, isn’t into the young kids, but wants that youth, the freshness. If it’s a sale, they’ll likely get sold again when they hit sixteen or so, unless the buyer develops an attachment. It can happen. Or finds other uses. But trade-ins are common.”