Page 69 of Concealed

The car has illegally tinted windows and a custom exhaust that roars as it takes off. He’s clearly not worried about anyone ratting him out.

Maybe-Wang-Yong is driving now, and Grant and I are following way behind his car, both of us completely silent.

“I’m twenty-five.”

Probably a lie, but still a crime either way. The age of consent in California remains eighteen even though it’s sixteen in some other states.

“I’m only fourteen,” Dean says. “I lied, too.”

Maybe-Wang-Yong chuckles. “So, I guess we’re both a little bit bad.”

“Are we going to get gelato?” Dean asks quietly.

“We’re going somewhere else first,” Maybe-Wang-Yong says. “You said you hate living with your mom, right? So, I have a surprise for you.”

Grant and I share a quick look, and his hands tense on the steering wheel.

This asshole is kidnapping her. It’s going down, right now. And we’re about to find out where he brings the girls before shipping them off to foreign hellholes.

“Where are we going?” Dean asks, as though reading my mind.

“My house. Don’t worry, it’s nice there, and we can watch a movie. I live alone, so my parents won’t randomly show up.”

Human traffickers sometimes have safe houses, but other times, move their victims around to isolate them from family and friends.

Hotel to hotel.

State to state.

Continent to continent.

And then they’re sold, over and over.

Sometimes domestically, but in the case of the Reapers boys who have international ties, the victims are often shipped to places like Pakistan, Thailand, China, India, and Bangladesh.

The girls become shells of themselves, never to be seen again as they’re used and abused by men at least double their ages.

“I don’t think I want to go to your house. Can we get gelato first?” Dean asks. Her voice is trembling, but she’s just acting.

I hope.

But so many girls in this same situation end up without any options. They don’t have people waiting to save them, and they’re left terrified without being able to stop their kidnappers.

Sometimes, human traffickers sell their slaves to do manual labor.

But in this case, these girls are sold to be raped – again and again.

“We’ll have fun, baby, don’t worry,” Maybe-Wang-Yong says.

“We’re going to get him,” I mutter.

“We are,” Grant agrees. “Just slow and steady, okay?”

The stats keep flashing in my mind.

Victims sometimes don’t even realize they’re victims.

There can be a lack of documentation, language barriers, and even something as simple as fear or as complex as international laws. There is a lack of cooperation between countries that often stands in the way of good cops making traction.

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