A Flighty Fake Boyfriend (Men of St. Nachos #2) - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,60
bank accounts, vehicle registrations.”
“Did you find anything? Seems a guy like that would use cash to stay under the radar.”
“Right. That’s problem one. Cash-based transactions are the norm in these cases. Dirty money needs to be cleaned though, and sometimes it’s possible to find a trail.”
He shook his head. “Wow.”
“When I looked into businesses he and his known associates worked for or came into contact with over the years, we found a long-haul trucking company, strip clubs, card rooms, and massage parlors.”
“Aw shit.” Apparently, Epic didn’t have to be told the nature of work a girl got in those businesses.
“This man lured the women legitimately. He probably seemed exciting and a little dangerous. He knows how to show a girl a good time. They think they have a boyfriend, but in reality, they’re being groomed by a pimp.”
“The women never suspect what’s really going on?”
“Not until it’s too late. He probably introduces them to recreational drugs, but by the time he’s ready to start pimping them out, he’s got them on heroin to maintain compliance.”
“And you can tell all this from the things here? About the drugs and everything?”
I nodded. “I've uncovered arrest records on some of the women. After a few months, they're getting picked up for drug possession, or theft, or solicitation. These women are moved from place to place so often they’re disoriented, entirely alone in a strange town, dope-sick with no one they can ask for help.”
“And you find them?” Epic broke my muffin into bite-size pieces, which he hand-fed me while I talked.
“It’s never that simple. All I can do is connect the dots around missing women, the men they were last seen with, arrest records, and businesses they’re involved in. A lot of it is purely theoretical.”
"Don't police detectives already do that when someone goes missing?"
"Yeah, of course. But they work on every case that comes down the chute, which means robbery, homicide, rape, and these missing persons. They'll put everything on the back burner for an endangered child, but their time and resources are limited in the case of a woman who may or may not have run away with her boyfriend."
"I see, so because human trafficking is your area of expertise—"
"I poke my nose in. It's not always welcome."
"Yeah, well. They probably get a ton of cranks," Epic mused.
"I look for connections and I follow the money.”
"How'd you ever learn, though?"
"Insatiable curiosity."
He covered my hand with his. “And passion.”
"Yeah." I took a sip of bitter coffee.
“The whole thing is sick.” Epic’s grimace was pure empathy. He was easily one of the most compassionate people I’d ever known. This was why I rarely talked about work. It changed you, knowing this was going on in the background—everywhere—and there was no good way to stop it.
“What do you do when you find something?”
“I give any information I have to local or federal law enforcement, and that’s where my involvement ends, but it’s a hydra.”
He got out of his chair to bring me a glass of orange juice from the fridge. “Drink.”
“Thanks.” I took a sip. “As soon as we identify and cut the head off the beast, more of these assholes pop up with the same business model. To them men, women, and children are disposable commodities—easy to manipulate and easy to throw away. They target minority women, not rich blonde girls for the most part, so there’s less media attention. Given that the money fueling this trade comes from drug trafficking, illegal weapons, gambling—God knows what else—probably child trafficking and pornography on the dark web, there’s never an end.”
Epic was silent for a long time. Then he glanced up at me, eyes lit with the silver-lining brightness that was Epic’s stock in trade.
“That one was solved though? The Northern California women?”
I nodded. “They found one of the women alive. The others are still missing.”
“Jesus.” He pushed his plate away and dropped his head to his hands. “I now understand why you’re a workaholic.”
“I’m the butt of a lot of jokes around the office, but none of us find it easy to let go when we’re working on something hot.”
“Wait. That’s sex trafficking, but you look into forced labor too?”
“Yes. Employment schemes, mail-order bride schemes, student scams where kids end up working as slaves for years to pay for their so-called training. Immigration scams.”
“This is happening all over the world all the time? How do you keep from getting crushed by the enormity of it?”
I didn't. I couldn't. That was the problem. “Knowing you