The Woman at the Docks - Jessica Gadziala Page 0,54
in this sort of operation.
Of course, money could make people do terrible things. The lack of it. Or the promise of huge sums of it.
"Have you searched the other containers yet?"
"This is the only one this week."
That also didn't make any sense.
There should have been at least three.
The flag should have gone up, but then again, companies had demand ebb and flow. It was possible that we overlooked the change simply because fertilizer was one of those things that went in and out of favor, people wanting to find more organic and natural options.
"When did the last one come in before this?" I asked, wondering how long Celenia could have possibly been in the hands of traffickers stateside.
"Twelve days."
Twelve days.
That meant it was more likely that Romy's sister simply hadn't made it into a container yet. Or that she was in one, and on her way.
That was news I could give Romy. Something with a little hope. It would kill me to go back there and tell her she was right, but we likely missed her sister, and that we weren't equipped to track down human traffickers.
"This is going to hit the news," Matteo told me in a low voice, looking around at all the emergency vehicles filling our lot.
It was.
We'd been in the news more than a few times.
But this was big.
This would go to every state.
"New York is going to hear of it," he added, vocalizing my thoughts.
Fuck.
As if we didn't have enough going on.
We were supposed to be seeing Lorenzo in another three days, give or take. He said he was driving, so traffic and stops would factor into his estimated time of arrival.
My mind was in a million places as we stood aside, let our business be overrun with cops and paramedics and detectives and then our biggest friends in the world, the FBI.
"Interesting to be called by you and not for you," the lead man said with a raised brow as he guided a group of men and women in blue jackets with bright yellow FBI letters across the breast and backs past us.
"I hope everyone has had their coffee. We are about to have every boss in the tri-state area on our asses about this," our father said as the news vans finally started to show up on the street, everyone setting up their cameras and lights.
I wasn't concerned with the other families. Or our ability to handle them.
I was worried about Romy.
Waking up.
Flicking on the TV for some background noise.
And hearing the news.
From them.
Not me.
"What's the matter, Luca?" Lucky asked, tone light. "Afraid of getting immortalized in a news article without a fresh shave?" he teased, knowing I'd always been a stickler for them in the past. Before Romy said she liked the scruff. Before I learned I liked how her skin went pink where I grazed it across her.
"Here," Matteo said, pulling out a phone. The flip variety. Meaning a burner. "Make the call," he said.
I wanted to do it in person.
I wanted to pull her onto my lap, hold onto her to ease the blow.
But there was no way to get out of here right then. It would be hours before things calmed down. And by then it could be too late.
"Thank you," I told him, giving him a nod as I took the phone, then took a long walk, making sure no one was around before plugging in her number.
"Ah, hello?" she answered, voice cautious.
"Romy."
"Luca? Why are you calling from a different number?"
"I'm going to need you to sit down," I started.
"Did you find her? Is she okay? Is she alive?"
"Romy, we found a container. And it does have people in it. But Celenia isn't one of them."
"Are you sure? Did you look a second time? Maybe she looks different. I haven't seen her face-to-face in a while. She could have dyed her hair. Gained or lost weight. Gotten work done. I don't know. You have to look again. You have to ask them their names."
"Sweetheart, she's not here. But listen to me, she could be on the next one, okay? We just have to wait it out and see. But I wanted to call and tell you before this is all over the news. I wish I could be there, but the cops are here. The feds are here. I can't leave."
"I understand," she said, voice thick, and it shattered something inside me to know she was upset, and that I couldn't be there for her.