Page 3 of Only the Small Bones
We both faced Ryan now, contemplating him. Davidson brushed aside the lapels of his department issued windbreaker, sliding his hands in his pants pockets. “And we may not be dealing with captors here. Or at least, it may not be that simple.”
“What do you mean?” I wanted to turn to Davidson, to give him my full attention, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Ryan. I’d promised myself I would remain objective moving forward, not be blinded or guided by my personal demons. Against my will and better judgment though, my heart reached for him. It reached in a way it hadn’t ever done before, and I hadn’t even said a word to him yet.
“The rest of the victims couldn’t give a description of the people who’d transported them here. They’d kept them blindfolded the whole time. From what we’ve gathered, they were abducted and sold some time ago. But they were recently re-sold, then brought here.” He shook his head before adding, “Someone spent a lot of money, and went through a lot of trouble to bring them here, then abandoned them in the middle of the road to be found. The question now is, do we have traffickers on our hands, or vigilantes?”
“Maybe both,” I whispered, knowing what it felt like to have a change of heart.
“The surveillance footage from the border was useless. The men wore hats and sunglasses, and kept their heads angled away from the cameras. They had all the right documentation to get through. We were able to determine the victims were smuggled into Ontario by sea. Canada’s looking into a cargo ship possibly used. All we know right now is that the vessel’s port of origin was somewhere in East Asia. That lines up with the statementswe’ve obtained so far.” He nodded toward Ryan. “Other than responding to the sound of his name, he gave us nothing.”
Davidson was a middle-aged, graying man in good shape, both mentally and physically. He’d worked with my organization for years. The fight to put an end to all forms of human trafficking was as important to him as it was to me. I was grateful for him, but he wasn’t as educated about the psyche of someone who’d been trafficked. I, on the other hand, lived and breathed the subject.
“He’s likely been in captivity longer than the others,” I said. “He’s given up hope. His trust would’ve been completely shattered by now. And as horrific as it may sound, he’s likely grown used to what has been done to him. Freedom probably feels more like the enemy now.”
“We can run his prints. See if he pops up in the system,” Davidson suggested.
“No. Treating him like a criminal will only make the situation worse. I’ll see what I can do.”
Davidson’s phone buzzed from somewhere. Pulling it from an inside pocket he glanced at the screen. “I gotta take this. It’s headquarters. I’ll be out here if you need me.” He stepped aside to take the call, his tone all business. I counted out five deep breaths before entering the room.
Ryan’s shoulders stiffened, the only sign that he’d heard me come in. I let the door close gently behind me before taking the few steps needed to put me against the wall he was staring at. His eyes were as black as his hair, just as wild too. The lashes framing them were long and thick. I always asked for details on the survivors before I arrived. He was just as Davidson described over the phone—down to the beauty mark on his cheek. He was striking, and it took me a moment to remember how to breathe.
His sluggish gaze dropped to my shoes then moved upward. The more of me he took in, the more agitated he became. By the time he reached my face, his breathing had become audible.
My size tended to work against me in these situations, but it never took long for their apprehension to recede. Maybe because they sensed I was more broken than they were.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’m not here to hurt you or make you do anything you don’t want to do.” Carefully, I dragged the rolling stool over with my foot before easing onto it, slouching my shoulders to make myself appear smaller, insignificant. Making my outside match the way I felt on the inside.
We were quiet for a while, and in that silence I worked to keep what I felt in my heart from showing on my face. I fought to contain my pain, to hold back the tears that his own pain inspired. I wanted to nurture him, to tell him I was sorry for everything that happened to him, and that it would be better from this point on. I couldn’t do that, though. He wouldn’t have welcomed it, and there were people here who would’ve been confused by my reaction to him.
“My name is… William,” I breathed, hesitating for reasons I didn’t want to contemplate. His lips thinned, cheeks flushing pink with anger, I assumed. I couldn’t blame him. I also couldn’t hold his gaze.
“I’m a music composer. I compose for symphonies, opera, film…” I trailed off, fiddling with the wrinkle creasing my pants. “I used to conduct for the orchestra. Every now and then I still do, but playing will always be my first love.” I chanced a glance up at him, feeling thoughtless. Telling him about all I’d gotten to accomplish in my life while he’d had to endure the horrors of his was the worst idea possible. Even though I would have traded those accomplishments for a chance to bear his burdens in a heartbeat. For an opportunity to have switched places with him.
His eyes bulged, the blood along his jaw a brutal reminder of how cruel the world could be. I cursed inwardly for not demanding the keys to uncuff him. I hated seeing him restrained.
I cleared my throat. “More important to me than all that, though, is my foundation: Freedom Fighters.” I paused for his reaction. The pitch of his breathing no longer threatened to drown out my voice, but his hands still clenched and unclenched in their restraints.
“We work to raise awareness about human trafficking, and we provide resources for those affected by it. There’s a place just outside of the city called Safe Haven. It’s a sanctuary, of sorts, for adult survivors.” Recovered minors were taken into custody by state child agencies until their families were located, but we offered external resources to them as well.
“You’ll have a room of your own there. Counselors to talk to—or not talk to,” I rushed to add when his eyes grew wider with obvious panic. I remembered Davidson said they couldn’t get him to speak. “We’ll help you with everything you need. Most importantly, you’ll be safe there.”
The speed at which his chest rose and fell gradually slowed, but he twisted his already raw wrists within the cuffs as though trying to slip them free. His bones were small enough, and that, coupled with the sight of his desperation made me internally flail with anger on his behalf.
“Please, stop,” I begged, my heart hammering at my rib cage. My fingers curled into the fabric of my pants to stop me from reaching out for him. I should’ve been more put together than this. I shouldn’t have been falling apart at the seams, but seeing Ryan this traumatized did something to me that the others before him hadn’t. I wondered if he could sense that. I wondered if heknew.
His hand stilled, and I closed my eyes in gratitude.
“Will you go to Safe Haven? Agent Davidson can take you. He’s one of the agents who brought you here. He heads the human trafficking division for the FBI. You can trust him.”
Ryan didn’t answer verbally, but the way his fists balled told me his answer was a resounding no.
“Your options are to stay here—I’m sure they can keep you a few days for observation— or… Agent Davidson can take you into custody.” I wasn’t sure if the second option was true. Ryan hadn’t been charged with any crimes. He wasn’t guilty of anything. But maybe Davidson could pull strings to get him into some sort of protective custody. Find him comfortable accommodation. To be honest, I didn’t like any of those ideas.
“You can’t save them all, William.”
I shook my head, clearing it of Xavier’s frustrated voice. I didn’t want it to prevent me from making—what he would call—a poor decision. I fought past every red flag that went up in my mind, bulldozing right over my good judgment to speak. “Or you can come home with me.”
Davidson wrapped up his call when I exited the room. “Well? Did you get him to agree to Safe Haven? Did he give you information about his family?”
