The Paper Daughters of Chinatown - Heather B. Moore Page 0,11

presence in stride, as if they already had confidence in her. The officers set off at a brisk pace. Her long legs had no trouble keeping up, though her pulse raced as if she had run for miles. They turned one corner and then another, walking through Chinatown. The other women traveled with two of the officers up ahead, and Officer Jesse Cook, the one with a cigarette, stayed a step or two behind Dolly as if he were keeping a lookout.

“Where are you from, Miss Cameron?” he asked, his voice low.

“San Gabriel Valley,” she said.

A raspy chuckle came from the officer. “A mite different from Chinatown. What about your accent?”

“My family is from Scotland, although we lived in New Zealand for many years,” Dolly answered. “And you?”

She was only being polite, but she realized she was quite curious about the life of a policeman, especially one who broke into places to rescue girls.

“I barely remember my previous life, miss,” Cook said, taking another pull on his cigarette. “Sometimes it’s better to forget and move forward.”

His answer felt like it had more layers than the earth. “Is that why you go on these rescues?”

Cook didn’t answer for a moment as the group up ahead hurried around the next corner. He took a look behind him, then motioned Dolly to follow as well. “The helpless have no chance for justice in this city. I couldn’t sleep at night if I didn’t do what I could.”

His words settled deep into Dolly’s heart.

“There’s Bartlett Alley, up ahead,” Cook continued. “If I could burn it down, I would.” As if to demonstrate, he tossed his half-smoked cigarette into the gutter.

Dolly was about to question him, when up ahead Miss Culbertson turned and waved for her to join her. Dolly moved quickly to her side, and Miss Culbertson grasped her hand. “The men will get us inside, and then we must be fast and persuasive.”

As they headed down the alley, Dolly was surprised how dark and quiet it was. Yet she sensed they were not alone. She kept her breath shallow so as to not inhale the scents of rotting vegetables and the sickly sweet of opium. Officer Cook stopped in front of a heavy door. His size and presence seemed to fill the dilapidated alley. Wasting no time, he knocked firmly on the rough wood.

Dolly nearly jumped. She must calm down. They weren’t even to the hard part yet.

No one answered; the only sounds were the drip drip drip of water nearby. Cook glanced over his shoulder at Dolly and Miss Culbertson. The director nodded, and Cook pounded again, calling out in a gruff voice, “Open the door!”

No response. Unless Dolly counted the furious beating of her heart.

Officer Green moved to a covered window only a few feet away and rattled the metal grating. The sound pinged against the cobblestone road, and Dolly’s heart jumped at the rhythm. “Open up!”

Dolly tried to imagine what must be going on inside the dark building. Were people hiding? Fleeing?

“Stand back,” Cook growled as he lifted his sledgehammer and brought it down on the door latch.

Officer Green took hold of the metal grate over the window and wrested it free.

There was no way anyone within a hundred yards of the place didn’t know that police officers were breaking into this building. Dolly wrapped her arms about her torso to steady her nerves as Officer Riordan shattered the window with an axe. Then he climbed in through the opening.

“It’s our turn,” Miss Culbertson said.

And somehow Dolly moved to the window, ready to help. She crouched, her heart thundering in her ears. Whatever room was beyond, it was nearly all dark save for the flicker of a guttered candle. Perhaps this building had no electricity. Dolly gathered in the fullness of her skirt and climbed through the window, following after Miss Culbertson and Ah Cheng.

It was the smell that hit Dolly first. Her throat squeezed, and she clamped her mouth shut to avoid breathing in any more of the rancid air. Despite the broken window, the small room was stifling. A ratty bed stood against the wall, its blanket soiled, and a basin sat in one corner next to a single, lopsided chair missing one leg. A cracked bucket served as a latrine. Someone huddled against the far wall of the room on the dirt-packed floor. At first glance, Dolly thought it was a small child.

But when she stood, the girl looked to be around fifteen, although it was hard