Debt bondage is much worse than being chained up in the literal sense. Lonnie had gone over as many case studies as she could stand about the human trafficking surge in California. Take a family living in an impoverished country. Offer them the world on a silver platter, a piece of American pie, three square meals a day and they're going to listen. Here's the deal. Just like the rules on the Titanic, it's woman and children first. They'll be sent to America for a fee, but the fee doesn't have to be paid up front. They can work it off and in no time their families will join them in the land of opportunity. Problem is, no one ever explains to them that it will take them the rest of their lives to pay back the debt, no matter how short they may be. No one ever tells them what type of work they'll have to toil at in exchange for this once in a lifetime chance. Would they ever agree to it if they knew they'd be put out on the street to make thirty dollars in exchange for sex? Of the thirty dollars mere pennies are applied to their so called debts which usually go in to the tens of thousands of dollars.

Is the life of a Cambodian girl who dreamed of going to school in the United States less valuable than any other? Some would think so. Woman and children are bought, sold and bartered the same way livestock is. PETA bitches more about cows being slaughtered for McDonald's than any one organization does about the treatment of the ones in bondage.

Lonnie looked down at her notes. She'd scribbled the date and time of the second interrogation on the top of the page. It was October thirteenth; thirteen hundred hours. There isn't room in police work for superstition but the skells and crazies defiantly howled when the moon was full. No superstition there, it's fact and the full moon was rising over LA today before the sun even set. She glanced up at the barred window in the interrogation room and caught sight of it thinking at first it was just a cloud. Maybe it was in a way.

"Mister Brodie, I hope you've had enough time to ruminate. Detective Coffee and I sure did. We can offer you protection in exchange for the information."

Brodie looked weary. Ruminate might have been the perfect word to use when it comes to what he was doing. He knew they couldn't hold him much longer but turning him out into the street at this point could be a fate worse than death. He'd missed an appointment, a meeting of the brain trust who'd devised the entire scheme. They'd suspect he was picked up or he was a turncoat. Brodie had to weigh his options. Deep down he was a decent man or so he thought. He never wanted to see any of the cargo killed. It never really crossed his mind that the effects of mistreatment or the shock of being torn away from family and brought to this country had on an innocent child. What a dumb shit.

He wiped a hand over his face and let out a long sigh. "I can tell you about a shipment."

"No!" Lonnie responded. "Stopping a shipment saves a couple of dozen of them. We need to get to the core of this. We need to stop it from happening all together."

"She's right, Brodie," Coffee added. "We need the how's, who's and where's. Pal, we've got all day. The offer is on the table."

"First off, how do you plan to protect me?"

"We can contact the feds, get you in witness protection. They've been trying to get their hands into this case for sometime now. We'll throw them a bone in exchange for your safety." Coffee's voice was reassuring though he wasn't confident he could deliver.

"What does it mean? I get a new identity, place to live?"

"That's it in a nutshell. Once we make the arrests, of course," Lonnie added

Brodie knew they were serious. They weren't playing good cop bad cop. "How long do I have to think about this?"

Lonnie looked at her watch and shrugged. "Your time's up."

Brodie was nervous. He looked into her eyes then he shifted his gaze to Coffee's. If they weren't serious they were putting on a pretty good act. He drew another deep breath, looked down at the table and opened his mouth. He seemed to chew on the words for a minute before he spat them out. "I'll ...take the deal."

"Good. Now let's start from the beginning. How does a client find this organization?"

"Word of mouth," Brodie replied. "The front is a travel agent and they'll send the client out to whichever country, Cambodia, Korea, Malaysia, just to pick the merchandise. They front it as an exotic vacation, but what they're really doing is showing the goods."

"People!" Lonnie spat.

"Yeah. I guess."

His response sickened her but she kept her cool this time. Coffee took over the questioning. He could read his partners feelings even if they were a new team.

"Word of mouth, eh? Where is this so called travel agency and whose name do we have to drop to get a foot in the door?"

As Brodie answered there was a knock on the door to interrupt them. It was Bud and he signaled for Lonnie to step out. She pushed her notepad over in front of Coffee to let him continue then she stepped out.

"What are you still doing here? You haven't slept have you?"

"I gotta nap, don't worry about it. Listen, Lon. I just got a report from LAFD. They're on the scene at a residence near Wilshire Center and there are a few victims there. Looks like carbon monoxide poisoning. The reason I'm telling you this is because all of the victims are Asian, woman and kids."

Lonnie recoiled a little. "Fucks sake. Is the Wilshire division on scene?"

"Yeah, they notified us. You want me to take you out there?"

"Right away. Let me tell Coffee. He'll finish up with Brodie and I'll have him meet us."

"See you down in motor pool." Bud was already walking away when he said that.

A few minutes later Lonnie joined him in the prowler and they headed out to a place in the seven hundred block of Normandie Avenue. They didn't talk much during the short ride. The fact that Bud offered to take her to the scene said enough for the time being. He wasn't in the mood to fight about her being on the job.

The scene was draped in yellow police tape and the fire department was still there ventilating the building. Bud shuttled Lonnie through the lines with a flash of his badge to the boys in blue. Once they made it to the command area they were met by one of Wilshire's detectives.

"Detectives White and Brannigan I'd assume? I'm O'Hara, incident command."

"Yep. That's us." Lonnie nodded and got right down to business. "How many?"

"Six all together; four kids, two young females, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old. We wouldn't have called you in except there is something suspicious here. It could relate to what you're investigating. These victims are not Korean."

"How can you confirm where they're from?" Bud enquired … distress evident in his voice.

"First off, the officers in this district didn't recognize any of the victims. They're all new to the area and second off, the clothing they're wearing is unique to the Khmer. Even if we were wrong in our assumptions, one of the young girls had pictures from Phnom Penh."

The incident commander led Bud and Lonnie into the scene as he spoke.

"We questioned some of the neighbors but they seem to be afraid to speak to us. One older woman, a Korean, seemed pissed off about the presence of these folk. She did give us the name of the landlord but we were not able to reach him."

The interior scene was quite disturbing. One of the older girls cradled an infant on her chest and if it was not for the color of the skin around her mouth, one would guess they were sleeping. Three of the other children were lying on the floor together and it appeared they passed in their sleep as well. The other teenaged girl was sitting at the table with her head cradled in her arms. She was probably the first to die as carbon monoxide settles to the floor last.

"Is this what they think caused the problem?" Lonnie squatted down to inspect a small hibachi like grill in the center of the room.

"Fire chief thinks so. He thinks they were using it to warm the room up after cooking with it for a good part of the evening."

"Apart from the obvious is the chief thinking about foul play? Maybe someone offed this group intentionally?" Bud glanced at Lonnie as he spoke. How could it be that this scene seemed to affect him more than it did her? Maybe he'd underestimated her.

"We won't have any answers for you until the scene is fully processed. Which one of you should I forward the report to?"

Both Bud and Lonnie answered at once with a "Me." A few moments of silence passed before Lonnie conceded. "Send it to him." She nodded toward Bud. "We're all working on this case together. Detective Coffee is my partner and I'll keep him in the loop."

"Quid pro quo. If you advance on your case, let us lowlifes here at Wilshire know, okay?"

"Will do. Here's my partners card." Lonnie scribbled her cell phone number on one of Coffee's department business cards and handed it to the incident commander. "Thanks for the heads up."

Bud and Lonnie were back in the car a short time after that headed to the motor pool. He was pretty damn quiet about everything.

"What do you make of this, Bud?"

"You know how I feel."

"I don't mean us. I mean the case. I figure if O'Hara gets the info on the landlord, it's a good place to start. He'd have to have a record of who the place was let to."

"Yeah but I wouldn't get my hopes up about it. A lot of these places rent out to people and never even ask for ID or anything like that. All they care about is the money."

"Yeah well at very least; this one will be getting a few citations from the fire department. You reckon he'll think twice before he rents again?"

"No. The money these scumbags bring in more than makes up for the fines they pay out. The system is fucked."

Lonnie shook her head in disgust. She knew there wasn't much their department could do about this, but solving the case would be a step on the right direction.

She and Bud talked a bit more about the case on the way back to HQ. When they arrived, Coffee met them by the watch commander's desk.

"What'd you two stop for a quickie? Never mind, forget I asked. Brodie took the deal. I've got some good shit but we've got to move fast. The moment they realize Brodie vanished they'll be suspicious."

Lonnie glanced at Bud and rolled her eyes. "You're an asshole, Coffee, and what are we gonna do, set up a sting?"

"Yeah. I figure we could set up an appointment with this travel agency. I don't think I'm the type of guy that would be in the market for a housekeeper from Asia." He looked White up and down and shook his head no. "Neither are you. We need to find someone to go in with Lonnie, someone who could pass as a rich boy."

"I don't like this idea." Bud huffed. "Let me go in alone."

"White, do you really think you'd pass for someone looking for a housekeeper or worse, do you really think you could pull off a pedophile act?"

Lonnie stepped directly in between Bud and Coffee. She felt the tension rise and there was no place for it right now. "I've got someone in mind."

Neither man asked but it seemed they were both looking at her for an answer.

"Thomas," she stated "He's perfect. Get him dressed properly and he'll pull it off with flying colors."

"How soon can you get him in here?" Coffee asked

"Tomorrow morning too late?"

"That'll work just fine. How's this sit with you, White?"

He was obviously none too happy about it. "Find someone else," he responded sharply.

Coffee knew their situation but he also figured Lonnie would get her way a lot quicker without his interference. "I think you two have a few things to hash over. White, you're off shift. Lonnie, you're about to be. Go home. I'll have the logistics ready for you when you come in tomorrow morning." He gave Bud a pat on the back that made the big cop cringe but it wasn't about to disturb Coffee any. Some cops may have been afraid of big old Wendell Bud White but Coffee's been around way to long. He's see his share of the likes of him. All he could do was wonder what Lonnie saw in him. What did Bud White have that bonded her too him?

Lonnie waited for Coffee to vanish behind the detective bureau door before she nudged Bud.

"We've got a full twelve hours to talk this through. You gonna come home tonight?" In three seconds flat her voice changed from the straight level tone of a detective to the sweet croon of a woman in seduction mode. "Come on, baby. I'm missing you."

"You see me now don't you?"

"Not the way I'd like. Home, Bud. You, me …home." She reached into her pocket and dangled her keys in front of him.

"I'll drive." He snatched the keys from her hand and without further ado he started walking toward the parking lot. Two dozen or so steps later he stopped and turned to look her way.

"You coming or what? Twelve hours isn't much time. You gotta call Thomas and we'll need some sleep. Tomorrow's gonna be a hell of a fucking day…A hell of a fucking day I'll tell ya."

Back                                                              Home                                    Next