Page 41 of Bringing Chelsea Home

“You’re doing great, Martin,” Griff told him, and with a shy smile, Martin continued to describe other places that were “almost nice, kinda high-class.” But it was still the same nightmare. Girls were swapped in and out, but he and Chelsea were always kept together because they’d developed a routine that the so-called “customers” liked to watch.

As his story unfolded, Griff silently marveled at Elaine’s gentle, tactful weaving of her questions into those of Sergeant Owens and her compassionate silent listening.

And all the while he listened, he thought his heart would break as he thought of little Izzie somewhere in Central America, possibly suffering the same fate at the hands of monsters.

“Me and Chelsea being together is about the only reason I kept believing that one day we’d be rescued.” Martin took another long pull of his drink. “And why I kept believing in God. Like maybe it was his will we were kept together, you know?”

“Sounds like that’s what He had in mind,” Griff said. “God surprises us sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Martin said, putting his cup aside. “I’m kinda tired. Do you know when my parents are going to get here?”

“Soon,” Owen told him. “Real soon.”

“Martin, you’ve been great,” Elaine praised. “Just one more question. I know you said you weren’t sure where you’ve been staying, but did you ever hear Fritz or anyone else mention where that might be?”

“I know I heard ‘em talking about it,” Martin said. “I’ve been trying to remember all night, but I haven’t slept well since I got here, so my memory is kinda tired, you know? I’ll keep trying.”

He rubbed his eyes and looked much younger than his nineteen years. “Can I tell you what really happened when I was busted the other day?” he asked shyly.

“You mean here in Knoxville?” Owen asked. “After listening to how these couples kept you locked up, I’ve been wondering how you came to be on the street the other day when you–”

A dark red spread over Martin’s face, stopping Owen’s words, but his gaze on them never wavered. “The couple taking care of us since we’ve been here told me someone wanted me for an early morning hook-up. Fritz said if I didn’t go, he’d hurt Chelsea, so I didn’t have a choice. Fritz told me what the guy looked like and dropped me off at the meeting sight and went to get a beer. He was already half-drunk anyway and knew I wouldn’t run away and leave Chelsea. So, I watched for a guy who was tall, African American and wearing a UT jacket. Saw him, walked up and made my pitch and–”

“And found out you were talking to off duty Officer Jackson Harris,” Owen finished, a wide grin spreading over his face. “Martin, I know what’s happened to you isn’t one bit funny, but it’s almost comical that you should mistake a Knoxville police officer for your john and get arrested and here you are, helping us. Talk about a piece of luck.”

“I think Martin got it right when he said he thought God was watching out for him and Chelsea,” Griff said. “Sounds like the man upstairs was on the job.”

“But now I’m here.” Martin’s eyes filled with tears. “Fritz will tell Chelsea I ran away and left her, and I’ll never know if they might move her or the others–”

A knock at the door signaled its opening and Grant Miller looked in. “Hey, Martin. There’s someone here who wants to say hey. Elaine and Griff? Can I see you?”

They made it outside as a man and woman, hope and fear on their features and just managing to hold on to a leashed miniature schnauzer, stumbled into the room. Owen barely had time to close the door before loud, keening wails of joy began, accompanied by a frantic cacophony of ecstatic barking.

“They made good time from Memphis,” Elaine exclaimed as Miller walked them back to the front desk. “What did you do, Grant? Clear the Interstate for them?”

Satisfaction erased some of the weariness from Miller’s face. “Very nearly,” he said. “They had a county-to-county escort all the way here, blue lights flashing the entire time. Heard there were nearly arguments among my brothers in blue over who would have the honor of escorting them. Don’t know what they’ll think in Nashville, but I don’t care. It was worth it.”

“I know Martin is an adult, but can you get the DA to release him to his parents?” Griff asked. “He’s offered some considerably good stuff that should put away some of these monsters for a very long time.”

“Yeah, we’re going to let him go,” Miller agreed. “I did some more digging on Martin’s Wisconsin case. Seems that guy was into rough sex, and Martin fought back. All that initial crap about Martin stealing his wallet was just that–crap. Dude didn’t want it to come out he’d engaged an underage male hooker, which is why he didn’t press charges. We can probably get Martin’s solicitation of our own Officer Jackson dropped.” He squinted at Elaine but was smiling. “You’re not pressing charges for the other day, are you?”

She stuck out her tongue and laughing he said, “I didn’t think so.”

“Can you give Martin our contact information?” Elaine handed him their cards with their numbers. “In case he needs to talk to us again?”

“Absolutely.” Miller put the cards in his shirt’s front pocket. “Did you hear about Silas Clark dying?”

“Yes,” Elaine sighed. “If we didn’t have him on tape during both meetings, I’d be more upset. But at least he gave us Big Daddy.” A weariness from listening to Martin’s trauma swept over her and she leaned against Griff. “What a way to spend Sunday morning.”

“Come on, then, Miz Prescott,” Griff drawled again. “Let’s head back and find out what good news my Aunt Sally might have uncovered. After all, Sunday is the best day of the week to get good news.”

CHAPTER20

Late Sunday morning

“So that’swhat you’re gonna do, my man.” Big Daddy savored the word. “Or I’m gonna tell the world what you really are. A creep that does little girls. Then your ass will be ruined.”

“Okay, okay!” The man mopped his sweat-soaked forehead. “I can get Elaine Prescott for you. I don’t know how you expect me to grab her–”

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