Houston had the Bissonnet Track, and San Antonio had Guadalupe and Zarzamora. I had grown up around pimps and prostitutes. My uncle was one of the biggest names in the skin game back home, but the trade here felt different, dirtier, grimier.
Even before the first girl turned up dead behind the tire shop, there had been an ugly feeling in the air at night, a stifling and oppressive sensation that left me uneasy and on edge. Then the second girl had been found under a tarp in a junkyard. By the third, I had started to wonder if the killer lived on our street or somewhere nearby.
Crime shows always said serial killers hunted where they lived. It made sense the person hiring those girls, assaulting them, torturing them, and killing them would be familiar with the area. The disposal sites weren’t easy-to-reach areas, and there were never any security cameras or footage.
That was the thing that made me curious. The security cameras, I mean. It was a detail that was easy to overlook or shrug off. Maybe I never would have put two-and-two together if I hadn’t found that box —.
I gasped softly as I felt a pop inside of me. A moment later, warm fluid trickled down my thighs. I stared down at my lap in horror and panic.No, no, no.This was happening too fast. I wasn’t ready to run yet. I needed a few more minutes. I had to make sure he was passed out real good before I crept to the front door.
Clearly, my baby had other ideas. I clutched my belly, awed at how stiff it was as another contraction started to tighten up my muscles. As I stroked the curve of it, I realized I hadn’t felt her move in a while. She was pretty big now, judging by how high up I could feel her feet and how low down she sat in my pelvis. I had read online that babies ran out of room to roll and flip around as they got bigger.
When had I felt her kick last? After Kiki put his hands on me? I must have. Definitely. I was certain she had kicked a few times as I cleaned up from his assault, wiping the blood from between my butt cheeks and wincing at the throbbing pain of being forced to have sex that way.
As the contraction ended, I leaned forward for a better look at the fluid trickling out of me. It was supposed to be clear. That’s what the books and baby websites said.
But mine wasn’t.
It was bright red and tinged with a strange greenish-black sludge.
Oh no.
No.
No.
No.
All thoughts of my safety fled. I needed to get to a hospital right now. I needed an ambulance.
There was no time to wait. I stood up, bracing myself on the wall by the bed as another wave of dizziness hit. My head was killing me, and my feet were so swollen and puffy that it hurt to walk on them. Still, I kept moving toward the bathroom and the burner phone I had bought with a stash of coins and dollar bills I had been collecting while doing the grocery shopping. I kept the phone in a box of tampons, one of the few places Kiki would never look.
Carefully, I closed and locked the door to the bathroom.Please, I prayed,please let him stay asleep a little while longer.
“Bexar County 9-1-1. What is your emergency?”
I quickly rattled off the address, desperate to make sure they had that vital piece of information before anything else was said. “I’m in labor, and I’m having complications. My water just broke, and there’s blood and that green-black stuff.”
“Meconium,” she said, and I could hear typing in the background. “We’re sending an ambulance right now.”
“And the police,” I insisted, gripping the burner phone so tightly my fingers went numb. “Please, you need to send the police in here first. My husband tried to kill me earlier. He strangled me, and he beat me. He hurt me, and he won’t let me see a doctor.”
All the horrific abuse I had been holding inside came tumbling out as I gripped the phone, my only lifeline. “Please, help me. Please. He’s going to kill me and our baby.”
“Ma’am, police, and EMS are on their way. Are you in a safe place?”
“I’m locked in the bathroom.” I glanced at the flimsy, hollow door, wondering how long it could possibly withstand an assault from Kiki. “But you have to hurry. Please.”
“Ma’am, we have help coming as fast as possible. Tell me about your labor. When did your contractions start?”
“Maybe four hours ago?” I was a bit confused about the time actually. “Maybe not,” I admitted. “My head is all fuzzy. I’m not sure.”
“It’s okay. What’s your name?”
“Nisha.”
“Nisha, you stay strong, and you stay hidden. We are coming to help you. Officers will be on the scene in—.”
“Nisha! Who you talking to?” Kiki growled through the bathroom door.