The Paper Daughters of Chinatown - Heather B. Moore Page 0,24

darkness, Dolly couldn’t make out the exact location, but the crying felt like nails scraping her skin. She wanted to change course, find out what was going on in the building above her. But the squad pushed forward deeper into the alley.

When the officers finally slowed their progress, Dolly scanned the rows of shacks that were no more than twelve by fourteen feet in size. The wicket windows were the only thing separating the street from the women inside. The structures looked like human cages. Her throat burned, and bile threatened as she watched the officers rattle one of them.

“Sing Leen,” Cook called out. “Are you in there?”

A voice so quiet it sounded like a wisp of wind said, “I am here.”

“Stand back,” Cook said, then used his crowbar to pry off the grate.

Ah Cheng linked arms with Dolly, and together they backed up.

Riordan set the grate aside, and Cook climbed into the square hole.

“Let’s go,” Ah Cheng whispered, then followed Cook through the window while Riordan kept watch on the alley.

Before Dolly could follow, she heard Ah Cheng’s quiet Chinese.

Dolly knew that Ah Cheng would first verify if Sing Leen was the one who had sent the message.

With shaking hands, Dolly gripped the edge of the crude wooden opening and stepped down into a room not much larger than a closet. It contained only a washbowl, a single bamboo chair, and a bed covered with matting. The space was completely taken up with Cook, Ah Cheng, Dolly, and a woman who was the size of a child.

The young woman held up a torn piece of red fabric and began to cry.

“Come with us,” Ah Cheng said in a gentle tone. “We’ll take you to safety. This is Miss Cameron from the mission home.”

Dolly tried not to blanch at the foul, cell-like room. She smiled at the Chinese woman. “We are here to help you.”

Ah Cheng translated, and Sing Leen unfolded herself from her crouched position. She wore the uniform of her trade, a blue silk blouse with embroidered green piping. With the help of both Ah Cheng and Dolly, she climbed out of the crib.

The woman clung to Dolly’s arm as she stepped into the alleyway, as if she were petrified. Dolly grasped her around her waist to make her feel secure. Sing Leen’s hold was so desperate, so fierce, that Dolly wished they had a buggy to whisk her away in to get her to the mission home faster. Sing Leen’s face in the glow of the moonlight showed a woman who was perhaps twenty, despite her birdlike limbs. Her frailness was only accentuated by her bare feet.

As they walked through the alley, Dolly expected someone to chase after them, or, at the very least, for the woman’s owner to confront them. But the alley was eerily silent and empty. Even the police officers were quiet, their expressions wary, alert.

By the time they reached 920 Sacramento, the adrenaline running through Dolly had left her emotionally exhausted. Thankfully, the moment they crossed the threshold of the mission home, Miss Culbertson had hot tea ready in the kitchen.

Sing Leen allowed herself to be taken to the kitchen, although she was trembling like an autumn leaf in a windstorm. Ah Cheng went to fetch the woman a shawl while Dolly and Miss Culbertson sat with Sing Leen.

Sing Leen’s hand shook as she reached for the tea. Her eyes closed as she sipped the hot liquid, and Dolly couldn’t help but notice the bruising along her neck.

“Eat something,” Miss Culbertson said in a soft voice as she slid over a dessert plate with a leftover pastry from dinner.

Sing Leen eyed the food, then gingerly broke off a corner. She ate a single bite, but strangely, she didn’t seem interested in the food. She picked at another piece but didn’t put it in her mouth. Then she pushed the plate away.

Miss Culbertson didn’t seem bothered by the action, but a knot of worry curled in Dolly’s stomach. Surely this woman was hungry. Why wouldn’t she eat more? When Ah Cheng returned with a shawl, Sing Leen snapped her gaze to the interpreter. She said something in rapid Chinese, refusing the shawl.

Ah Cheng’s thin brows pulled together, and she replied, her words urgent.

Dolly looked over at Miss Culbertson, but the director made no move to intervene. Suddenly, Sing Leen stood and backed away from the table.

“Wait,” Miss Culbertson said in English. She moved to the Chinese woman’s side and took her arm, but Sing