Troy nodded to all of them. 'The Cleveland operation had ties to organized crime. We know of at least three rings operating in the tri-state area that are similar.' He rolled his eyes. 'Suspected ties. Suspected rings. Suspected organized crime. We don't have any proof.' Then his eyes gleamed. 'But we do have undercover operatives in two of the organizations, one of which is a deep cover op.'

Scarlett sat up straighter, new energy pulsing through her body. 'Can we talk to them?'

Troy shook his head. 'We can't risk it. Even the one that isn't in as deep is too far in for us to grab for a chat. He gets time off in two days. He'll stop in and talk to us then. The one who's fully immersed only communicates with his handler and only when he has something to say. We've sent a message to his handler, but so far we've heard nothing back.'

'I thought so,' Scarlett said with a sigh. 'But I had to ask.'

Troy's look was sympathetic. 'I understand your frustration. I know who these operatives are and where they are, but I'm about as helpless are you are. However, finding the victim in the alley this morning was an amazing break for us.'

Scarlett thought of Marcus, thought he'd be bristling to hear Tala's death referred to in such a way. Scarlett was bristling herself, but understood what Troy meant. 'She broke her leash.'

'To protect her baby, we understand,' Troy said. 'The child is all right?'

Scarlett nodded. 'Yes, she is.' She briefed them on the events of the afternoon, noting the scowls on the Feds' faces when she mentioned Marcus's involvement in finding Tabby and interviewing Annabelle Church. 'We're sending a SAR team out to hopefully retrieve the mother and sister. I don't know if they'll be able to identify the men who took the Anderses or not. The women may have been gone by then.'

Zimmerman nodded. 'I knew about the search for the mother and daughter. Isenberg and I talked right after you all finished questioning Ms Church. I've got resources ready to aid the search if necessary, but for now, I'm leaving it in MCES and CPD's corner.'

Scarlett appreciated Zimmerman's willingness to have Isenberg lead the search. Lynda had allowed FBI resources access to their investigations as well grudgingly at first, but it got easier each time. That Zimmerman had acquiesced this time surprised Scarlett, though.

'You look surprised, Detective,' Zimmerman said dryly, as if reading her thoughts, and once again she wondered at the disappearance of her legendary poker face. Marcus, she thought. It had been slipping since she'd first heard his voice.

'I am,' she admitted. 'I thought you would have yanked the reins from us, considering one of your own was killed today.'

Zimmerman shrugged, his expression abruptly remote. 'These women didn't pull the trigger and Isenberg's cops know the lay of the land better than we do. We've agreed that we will question the women jointly.'

'What about the old woman found at the Anders house?' Kate asked. 'The aunt. Can she be questioned?'

'Not yet. She's still unconscious,' Scarlett said. 'I called on my way over here to check on her. The hospital has my number. The nurse promised they'd text me the instant she wakes up. What about Chip Anders's factories? Did you find any evidence of trafficking there?'

Zimmerman nodded, his smile grimly satisfied. 'Oh yeah. We did simultaneous raids on all three.' He glanced at Deacon, apology written all over his face. 'That's where I was when you called to tell me about Agent Spangler and why I couldn't go with you to notify his wife.'

Deacon nodded. 'I understand. It's all right. I covered it.'

At a cost, Scarlett thought. But that went with the job. She'd done her share of notifications and it never went well. But at least she'd never been attacked. Poor Deacon.

'We pulled out so many illegals,' Zimmerman continued, 'that the factories would have needed to shut down operations even if we hadn't padlocked the doors after clearing out the employees. They didn't have enough labor to maintain even a basic operation. The people we took into custody will take a while to process. We don't have sufficient interpreters to take their statements, so we're still in the identification process.'

'But we have isolated out the other two members of the Bautista family,' Troy said. 'Efren and his son John Paul.'

'Bautista,' Deacon explained when Scarlett frowned in confusion, 'is Tala's last name. Immigration Services contacted me just as I was about to meet you.'

'They got a hit on her fingerprints,' Scarlett murmured.

Deacon nodded. 'I was going to tell you when I first saw you in the lobby, but we ended up discussing the other case. Tala and her family mother, father, sister and brother came into the US from the Philippines on an H2B visa. It's since expired. It was only good for a year and they've been here for three.'

'That's the temporary labor visa?' Scarlett asked, and Agent Troy nodded.

'Technically it's supposed to be for temporary seasonal labor,' Troy said. 'Hotels, amusement parks, stuff like that. It's not supposed to be for agricultural jobs, but once they get here, it happens. Over seventy percent of victims of trafficking come into this country legally. They don't sneak in. They're lured here by the promise of better jobs.'

Scarlett blinked. That fact she hadn't expected. Seventy percent? 'Holy God. Is that what happened to Tala's family?'

'We think so,' Zimmerman said. 'We haven't gotten anything from her father and brother yet. They were afraid to talk to us. Apparently Chip Anders told all his victims that we'd put them in jail if we caught them because their visas were expired.'

'So the rest of Tala's family are now here illegally,' Kate said with a frown. 'I hate when this happens. These victims are tricked into coming to the US by bogus labor recruitment firms operating in their own countries.'

'Like the Philippines?' Deacon asked.

Kate nodded. 'It's one of the top four countries we see victims coming from, second to Mexico. India and Thailand are third and fourth.'

'They're sold out by fellow countrymen trying to make a buck,' Scarlett said quietly.

'Basically,' Troy agreed grimly. 'And not only are they lied to about the jobs they'll get when they arrive, but they often have to pay exorbitant recruitment fees for the privilege.'

'The average is a year's wage in their home country,' Kate added with an angry shake of her head. 'Sometimes it's offered to them as a "loan", but with interest rates so high they'll never pay off their debt. Their wages are gone before they even start working. And that's the ones who even get any wages. So many of those forced into the sex trade get nothing at all.'

'And when they arrive in this country, they find it's all been a lie and they're forced into slavery.' Troy's expression grew weary. 'Sometimes it's slave labor like Chip Anders's factories, and sometimes it's sexual slavery like the raid we did on the massage parlor this morning. Sometimes the victims are held by force or by threat to family members here or back home. Sometimes they're made to live at the factory, like many of Anders's victims.' He shrugged. 'And sometimes they just don't know how to get free. Their captors take their visas and all their travel documents and then allow the visas to expire.'

'Which is what happened to Tala's family,' Scarlett said, her jaw clenched.

Kate sighed. 'And then their captors tell the victims that they're here illegally now and that Americans hate illegals. They tell the victims to be afraid of the police because we'll arrest them. Most of these people come from countries where law enforcement is corrupt at best, brutal at worst, so they are afraid of us.' She sighed again. 'And the truth is, even when they do come to us for help, a lot of the time we have little control over what happens to them next.'

'What does happen to them?' Deacon asked, the look on his face saying he already knew he wouldn't like the answer. Scarlett felt the same apprehension.

'They're kept in this country pending the investigation into their accused traffickers,' Troy said. 'But only about half of the traffickers ever end up being arrested. Most are long gone by the time their victims come forward.' He grimaced in disgust. 'Six percent of the perpetrators were released because they were diplomats. Yeah,' he said when everyone around the table showed their surprise. 'I'm with you all there. But that's another department's focus. My focus has been operations that have organized crime connections. They don't get arrested because they don't usually let their victims escape another reason why Tala's escape was such a lucky break for us.'

'Still,' Kate said, 'getting free isn't the end of the ordeal for the victims. They're still here illegally.'

'Even though they're victims,' Scarlett said bitterly. She wanted to say it wasn't fair. Because it wasn't. But saying so wouldn't make it any fairer. She'd learned that long ago. Being a victim sucked, and life was rarely fair. 'If they wish to stay, what happens then?'

'Some are granted longer-term visas that can lead to green cards,' Troy said. 'It depends on the individual and if they want to stay in this country. Many do, because there are more opportunities here than back home, especially for those with higher education. At least a third of labor trafficking victims have attended or graduated from college or a tech school. Some even have graduate degrees. It's easier for these victims to get employment offers, a requirement for them to stay long term. Efren was a teacher back in the Philippines and Mila had some nursing experience. They have skills that make them more, well, desirable, for lack of a better word.'

Scarlett tucked that fact away, wondering what Marcus could do to help the Bautistas find permanent refuge in the United States, assuming they even wanted it after the ordeal they'd suffered. They'd need sponsors and jobs. He could help with that.

'Are Efren, John Paul and the other individuals taken from the factories in good health?' Kate asked, making Scarlett like her even more.

Zimmerman shrugged. 'None of them are starving to death, but they are not in the best of health. Many had been beaten. A lot of malnutrition. They've been grossly overworked and the conditions were deplorable like something out of a nineteenth-century workhouse. Anders forced the lower-skilled workers to live there, and their dormitories were pretty bleak. Dirty, and hotter than hell. They were prisoners in every sense of the word. Those with more skilled positions, like Tala's father, were allowed to leave the factory at night, but they wore trackers.'

'What were they forced to do?' Scarlett asked.

'Nothing illegal as far as we can see,' Zimmerman replied. 'One factory processed chickens, the other sorted nuts. The third did manual envelope stuffing coupons and such. It appears that Anders was doing very well. Everyone was busy working when we busted in. Not paying your workers allows you to underbid the competition,' he added, not bothering to hide his disgust.

'How many of the other workers wore the ankle trackers?' Scarlett asked.

'About a third,' Zimmerman said. 'We don't know if that means that Anders got his workers from different sources or not. Hopefully the interviews with the victims will shed some light on this.'

Scarlett thought about Mila and Erica, afraid and on the run. 'If any of the skilled workers happened to not be in the factories at the time of the raids, they might run. They need to know that they won't be prosecuted, that Anders was lying and it's safe to ask for help. You might consider utilizing the media to get the word out.'

Troy looked at Scarlett, his expression unreadable. 'You're talking about bringing in your reporter. He's already written about it in his paper.'

My reporter. Yes. He is. Mine. 'He's the publisher of the Ledger,' Scarlett said. 'He's also been embedded with our team while this case remains in motion.'

All three FBI agents turned and frowned at her. 'You're letting a reporter observe your investigation?' Troy asked, sounding appalled.

'He's proven himself trustworthy so far,' Scarlett said evenly, not allowing the defensiveness she felt to come out in her voice. 'This story needs to be told for the sake of the victims and for those who have literally no idea that trafficking is happening in their town, right in front of their eyes. Marcus O'Bannion will tell the story the right way.'

'He's an almost-relative of mine,' Deacon added. 'In a sideways, by-marriage kind of way. From what I've seen, he's a straight arrow.'

'Almost-relative?' Kate asked, looking mildly amused.

'He's my fiancee's step-cousin.' Deacon shrugged. 'Faith adores him. Trusts him too, so that's been good enough for me. I'd recommend using him when you want the media coverage. His paper used to be second in town, but he's built the readership up since he took over five years ago, after returning from Iraq. In a year he'll be ahead of the Enquirer.'

'Iraq?' Troy asked, a good deal of his doubt fading with that one word.

'He was army,' Scarlett said. 'A Ranger. Served two tours.'

Troy nodded, looking convinced. 'I want to meet him first.'

'Of course,' Scarlett said. 'He'll be with the SAR team and the priest we've asked to accompany them. Tala's mother was seen with a rosary. We think she'll trust a priest.'

'The priest's okay,' Zimmerman told Troy before the man could utter a protest. 'He's a CPD chaplain.'

Scarlett's brows raised, but she didn't allow her surprise to show. 'He is?'

Zimmerman's lips curved, his eyes twinkling. 'Didn't he tell you when you called him?'

'No,' Scarlett said dryly. 'He did not. He's my uncle,' she explained to the others. 'I shouldn't be surprised. Half of my family are cops. He'll do a good job,' she told Troy.

'Isenberg had him checked out,' Zimmerman added. 'He's got a cool head and experience.'

Scarlett swallowed what would have been a sigh of irritation. Of course Lynda would have her uncle checked out before allowing him access to victims. It might have been nice if Scarlett's word had been enough, though.

'What next?' she asked the group. 'We find Mila and her daughter, reunite them with her husband and son, and find out what they know about the people who brought them into the country?'

'Maybe not in that order,' Troy said. 'But we will reunite them.'

'Soon,' Scarlett murmured. 'They have a daughter to bury.'

'Soon,' Troy promised. 'And I will try to get word to our operatives, see if either of them has heard anything about Anders's capture. Anders is who I want. He knows the names of the traffickers, how much he's paid them, and how he paid them. The victims may be able to describe faces, but it's unlikely they'll know any names. We also need to be aware that there may be other households in this area who've purchased families like the Bautistas. Hopefully those victims won't come to any harm as we investigate.'

'In the meantime, I want you all to be working together,' Zimmerman instructed. 'Troy and Coppola, stay in contact with Novak and Bishop. Trade information.' He met Scarlett's eyes. 'Nothing that comes from us goes to the reporter without my explicit approval.'

'Yes, sir,' Scarlett said. 'I understand.'

'Thank you. Dismissed.' Zimmerman stood up. 'Deacon, I need to talk to you. Privately, please. In my office.'

Twenty-two.

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 8.35 P.M.

Marcus parked his Subaru in his assigned slot under the Tower apartment building where he lived, and walked up the flight of stairs to the lobby, his mind on Scarlett. About what she'd told him. And about what he'd told her. He wondered if she'd Googled the kidnapping. If she now understood what he and Stone had been through. What his mother had endured. And what Matty had not survived.

He checked his phone, knowing that she wouldn't have had time to text him yet. She was still in her meeting. And I have to get moving if I'm going to join the search for Mila and Erica. He jogged through the lobby, throwing up his hand in a wave to Edgar, who worked the desk.

Then he stopped cold. Because Edgar wasn't at the desk. For the first time since Marcus had moved in five years before, the desk was empty.

'Edgar?' he called, the lobby sounding too empty. The hairs rose on the back of his neck. 'Edgar?'

He rushed around the desk, hoping Edgar had simply taken a bathroom break, but his hope died the moment he saw the old man's body slumped on the floor.

'Oh my God.' Dropping to his haunches, Marcus pressed his fingers to Edgar's throat, trying to find a pulse. 'Edgar. Edgar. Talk to me, buddy. Come on.' Marcus's own heart skittered when he found a very faint, feeble pulse. 'Oh God,' he breathed in relief.

But then new dread twisted his gut as he noticed what he had not before the dark stain on Edgar's uniform in the same place Tala's had been that morning.

Grabbing his cell phone, Marcus called 911. 'My name is Marcus O'Bannion. I've discovered the victim of a shooting in my apartment lobby,' he said, and gave them the address. 'His name is Edgar Kauffman. He's about sixty years old. He's been shot in the abdomen. He's alive, but just barely.'

'Help is on the way,' the operator said. 'Please stay on the line, sir.'

Marcus didn't want to. He wanted to call Scarlett. Now. Because his mind was racing. He'd been shot at only hours before, and then the security guard in his apartment building was shot too? He hadn't wanted to believe her when she'd said he'd been the target at the Anders house, but this wasn't a coincidence. It can't be.

'Sir?' the operator said sharply. 'Are you still there?'

'Yes.' He put the phone on speaker and laid it on the desk, forcing himself to stay calm as he looked around for something to stem Edgar's bleeding. The older man's gym bag was tucked under the desk, and in it Marcus found a spare shirt. Quickly he balled the shirt up and pressed it to the wound, dragging the bag under Edgar's feet so that they were elevated.

Why? Why shoot an old man? He shoved the questions aside, focusing on Edgar. 'Stay with me, Edgar,' he muttered as he worked to secure the wadded-up shirt to the wound with Edgar's own suspenders. 'Don't you dare die on me too.'

'Sir?' The operator's voice was faint coming through the speaker. Marcus reached for his phone, accidentally jiggling Edgar's computer mouse. The screen flashed to life and Marcus's heart simply stopped.

'Oh my God,' he breathed, horrified, staring at the last entry on the sign-in log. Phillip. Edgar had signed Phillip into the building. Cal said Phillip was coming here to walk BB. Phillip was here, in this building. And so was a killer.

'What is it?' the operator demanded. 'Sir? What's wrong?'

'How long before the paramedics get here?' he demanded.