“You’re not making sense, Mr. Estrada,” she said, turning the car off.
His brow furrowed as if he was debating if he really wanted to go through with this. But he clearly knew, as she did, that it was too late to go back now.
“There’s another reason I think Jasper Otis might be capable of killing someone,” he said quietly. “I know what else he’s capable of.”
He pressed the thumb drive into her hand.
“What’s on the drive?” she asked. A flutter of excitement rose in her chest.
“An interview.”
“Care to expand on that?” she asked.
“I can’t,” he said, “other than to say it’s extremely sensitive. I can’t answer any questions about it. And I need you to swear that you won’t reveal where you got it. If you say it was me, I’ll deny it.”
Jessie looked at Estrada, who seemed to almost be a different person from the man she’d talked to in the house. He was nervous, even a little scared.
“Why?” she asked.
“You’ll understand when you hear it,” he said. “Just be careful where you listen. And be careful who you share it with.”
“Mr. Estrada, I can’t make any promises—”
“Just listen,” he insisted. “Then you’ll understand.”
He turned and walked quickly back into the cottage, never looking back. Jessie sat in the driveway, slightly stunned. After a few seconds, she turned the car back on and backed out, unsure what to do next. She had planned to go to the law firm but that suddenly seemed less pressing.
She considered going back to the station to play the interview there. But something about the intensity of Estrada’s warning made her reluctant.
Great. I haven’t even listened to the thing yet and it’s making me paranoid.
Unable to wait any longer, she pulled into the parking garage of a nearby shopping plaza and followed the turns down to the lowest level. She parked, got out, and removed her laptop from her trunk. The garage radiated a heavy silence, muffling her footsteps. She looked around but didn’t see a soul. On this level, there were only a couple of other vehicles, both unoccupied.
She got back in the car, locked the doors, turned on the laptop, and put in her headphones. She paused for a moment before inserting the thumb drive, wondering if it actually included a virus intended to delete her files.
Looking down at the hand holding the drive, she saw that it was trembling slightly. The anxiety of the moment threatened to overcome her. Estrada, despite his seeming openness, was still a source of suspicion. What if he was using her curiosity against her?
Shaking her head at how quickly she’d gone down the rabbit hole, she dismissed the theory and popped in the drive and clicked on the file.
Identified only by the name “Marla,” it started to play. A male voice began to speak in what sounded like an empty room. His voice echoed off the walls.
“The date is April 19th, 2017. The time is 11:41 a.m. This is Detective Brian Shore commencing interview with subject Marla, not her real name. Are you ready to proceed?”
“Yes, sir,” a female voice said meekly. She sounded about twelve.
“How old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
“Where do you live?” Shore asked.
“I’m originally from Reseda but for the last few months I’ve been staying in Pacific Palisades.”
“Can you describe your living situation?”
There was a brief silence, after which the detective added, “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
That seemed to give the girl the confidence to answer.
“It’s a huge house. There are nine of us there, although the number of girls changes a lot. We share bedrooms, usually three but sometimes four per room.”
“Are you there voluntarily?”
“We’re kept there,” she said. “They have security guards and a huge wall so that no one leaves without permission.”
“What happens at the house?”
“That’s where we’re kept for when we’re needed,” she told him.
“Needed for what?”
“To have sex with the men,” she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Jessie gasped softly, then glanced around the garage to make sure no one had heard her despite the closed doors and windows. The detective continued.
“You were kept at this house against your will and men would come there to have sex with you, also against your will?”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “I mean, I didn’t fight it after the first few times. But I didn’t want it.”
“Did you recognize any of the men who came to the house?” Shore asked.
“No. But sometimes I was blindfolded. I think when that happened, I