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PROLOGUE
AURORA
“Damn it,Aurora. I’m your boss, and I said you’re not going.”
I cross my arms over my chest and glare at my editor. Hugh Reed is a force to be reckoned with, but he’s never pulled rank on me before. Being an investigative reporter means sometimes rubbing elbows with unsavory individuals to get the story. I’ve been with theBoston Heraldfor three years now and love my job. The typical crooked politicians, insider trading, extremely high caseloads for social services, and overcrowding in school systems are just a few stories I’ve covered over the years.
For the first time, I have a story that could blow the whistle on organized crime.
“Screw you, Hugh,” I huff. “If I was one of the gu?—”
“Don’t!” Hugh yells. “I should’ve never entertained you digging into this story. It’s too dangerous.”
Heads pop up from the cubicles like little gophers outside of Hugh’s office. The glass walls aren’t exactly soundproof and give a great view of the scene playing out. My face burns with embarrassment and anger, knowing I’m going to be the center of gossip later. It’s not like me to get this pissed, but this is important. I’ve been chasing leads on this story for almost ayear, and I’ve finally had a breakthrough. A real-life survivor, willing to talk.
I brace myself on his desk and lean forward. “I have an informant,” I say in hushed tones. “She barely made it out alive.”
“Give the information to the police, and walk away, Aurora. That’s an order.”
“It won’t hurt for me to at least meet with her and hear what she has to say.” I jut out my chin in defiance. “It’s not like I’m going to beat down their front door and demand answers.”
Hugh shakes his head. “When have you ever walked away after an interview?”
“I’m not stupid,” I say, defensively. “I know how dangerous this is. Let me talk to her. If I can get a lead on where they’re keeping the girls, I’ll go to the police. Plus, you’ll have a great front-page story. You’ll be a hero!”
He wags his finger at me. “Don’t you try to butter me up, Parks. Your dad will have the entire United States Marine Corps after my ass if anything happens to you.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m taking precautions. I’m going to meet her at a diner downtown during the day.” Glancing at the clock, I smooth my top. “In fact, I need to go. I’m meeting her in thirty minutes.”
After a pause that has me worried he’s going to say no, he finally grumbles. “At least tell me which diner you’re going to.”
“Now why would I do that? You know as well as I do, as soon as I tell you, you’ll have Jansen follow me.”
“I woul?—”
I hold up my hand. “Don’t insult my intelligence. You would, and I love you for it, but I’m a big girl, Hugh. I can handle this.”
“Fine,” he concedes. “But you check in every thirty minutes or there’ll be hell to pay when you get back, and I’ll call your father.”
I mock salute. “Yes, sir”
“Don’t be a smartass.”
“I’ll be careful,” I promise. “You’ll see. I’ll be back before you know it.” I spin on my heel and pull open his door, rushing out before he can change his mind.
“I mean it, Parks… every thirty minutes,” Hugh yells at my back as I run toward my desk.
I rush to my car as the wind howls, and small drops of rain begin to fall. I shiver and slide into my leather seat. Twenty minutes later, I pull into the parking lot at Lottie’s Diner, a hotspot for the local businesses and college kids. I chose this location because it’s laid back, and it will be easy to blend in. I grab a booth in the back corner facing the doorway and wait for the mysteriousLaceto enter.
What I failed to mention to Hugh, was how Lace found out about me. I received an email at work last week, stating that Lace had escaped a sex-trafficking ring here in Boston. She was too scared to go to law enforcement because the traffickers have police on their payroll, and she didn’t want to end up back in their grasp. If I can get all the answers I need, we can bypass the local PD and go straight to the FBI, but first, I need to find out if her claims are legitimate.
I’m lost in thought when the bell above the door jingles. A timid woman—well, more like a girl because she doesn’t look a day over sixteen—slowly enters the restaurant. She’s wearing a dark hoodie and torn jeans, but nothing to protect her from the cold snap we’re currently experiencing. Her cheeks are sunken in, and there are dark circles under her eyes. My heart clenches at the thought of what she must’ve endured during her captivity.
This has to be her.
My eyes find hers, and I give a friendly wave.
She rushes toward me. “Are you Aurora Parks?”