we walk into that melee, we’re likely to get shot.”
I notice someone in uniform walking across the street in our direction. “That’s Jud,” I say. I open my car door and meet him halfway. A moment later, Ian’s right beside me.
“You shouldn’t be here, Tyler,” Jud says, scowling at me. He glances at Ian, then back at me.
I shake my head. “Forget it, Jud. I’m in this to the end.”
“I won’t be able to help you.”
I take Ian’s hand. “This is a family matter, Jud. I’ve made my choice.”
Nodding, Jud sighs in resignation. “You’re just like your father. He would have said the same thing—and to hell with the consequences.” Jud reaches out and pats my arm. “At least stay back until we’ve cleared the building.” He nods toward Ian. “We don’t need both of the judge’s kids in harm’s way.”
As Jud walks back toward the scene, Ian says, “What’s he talking about? What consequences?”
I watch as Jud engages in a heated conversation with the leader of the SWAT team.
Ian grabs my arm. “What did he mean, Tyler?”
Shit. I really don’t want to get into this with him right now, but I can’t lie to him. “He means I shouldn’t be here. It’s a violation of my suspension.”
Before I can say more, we hear a volley of gunfire coming from within the building. Ian flinches.
The shots go on for several moments until there’s a sudden deafening silence. Just as Jud and a few other law enforcement leads head into the building, a caravan of ambulances arrives on scene, and the medical techs quickly exit their vehicles and begin unloading gurneys.
Ian breaks loose from me and sprints toward the warehouse.
“Ian, wait!” I chase after him, but he’s got a decent head start on me.
I follow him into the building, which is nothing short of chaos. There are dead bodies lining the corridor—all apparently traffickers.
A member of the SWAT team blocks Ian’s path.
“I’m looking for my sister,” Ian yells as he tries to push past the officer.
“Sorry, buddy,” the guy says. “No civilians.”
“Is the building secured?” Jud asks as he comes up behind us.
The officer nods. “Yes, sir. All clear.”
“Then let him through,” Jud says. “Let them both through.”
The officer steps back to let us pass. “At the end of the hall, turn right,” he calls after us. “The girls are in the offices all up and down that hallway.”
Ian and I stop at the first office we come to. The door is open and two SWAT team members are using bolt cutters to remove the handcuffs securing two naked African American teens to the bedframes of two single beds.
In the next room, another officer is freeing two more young women—a blonde and an Asian—similarly naked and cuffed to bedframes.
Ian moves to the next room and the next. “Layla!” he yells. “Layla!”
We stop at two more offices, each containing two girls. Two Latinas, an Asian, and an African American girl.
As Ian moves frantically to the next room, my skin starts to crawl.
It’s possible she’s not here. It’s possible we’re too late.
“Layla!” Ian yells as he moves to yet another room.
The long corridor is filled with teams of paramedics. Numerous gurneys appear. The young women are weak, tired, and scared. They’re likely dehydrated and possibly drugged to keep them more manageable.
Ian races to the last office and charges inside. I’m right behind him, prepared to help him deal with whatever he finds.
But he comes up short. There’s just one bed in this room, and it’s empty. The blood-stained sheets have been yanked off the mattress and strewn on the floor, along with a filthy pillow. There are bloodstains on the soiled mattress. A metal chair lies toppled over beside the bed.
Ian turns to me, his eyes raw with pain. “She’s not here. I was so sure she’d be here. Layla!” Ian screams so loud his voice cracks.
Suddenly, we hear a rattling… the sound of metal clanging against metal, followed by a muffled sob.
Ian drops to the floor and peers beneath the bed. “She’s here, Tyler! She’s here.”
I rush to the other side of the bed and crouch down to find Layla huddled beneath it. She’s naked and her hair is a tangled mess, hanging limply in her face. She stares at me, her dark eyes glassy and unfocused. She resembles a wild animal that’s been cornered.
“Layla, it’s okay,” I say in a low voice. “It’s me, Tyler.” I reach for her, but she scuttles back. Her right wrist, rubbed raw and bleeding, is