Bones of the Lost

from the brick behind him.
    The bullet in Majerick needed no explanation. I would not be charged. The shoot had been ruled self-defense, and extremely lucky.
    Luck was with me twice, actually. Once when I pulled the trigger. Once when Gross did. He’d scooped up Majerick’s gun while chasing me from the warehouse. The magazine wasn’t full when Majerick arrived. He’d emptied it while shooting Rockett.
    Raids on the other SayDo massage parlors had turned up eleven more girls, all Afghan. Those from the NoDa operation were found in the basement of a closed beauty parlor, in conditions similar to those at the South End warehouse.
    None of the girls spoke English. None had a legitimate visa or passport. Their ages appeared to range from thirteen to seventeen. All were now in the custody of ICE.
    The girl Majerick was beating when I surprised him was named Huma. Little Bird. She came from a village not far from Sheyn Bagh. Huma had contusions, abrasions, and a broken nose, but was doing well.
    Archer Story had been arrested and charged with conspiracy to commit murder as to both Ara and Rosalie D’Ostillo, with maintaining establishments for prostitution, and with promoting the prostitution of minors. He was also charged with multiple counts of human trafficking.
    John-Henry Gross was charged with all of those offenses, plus attempted murder as to me.
    The madams of all four establishments were charged with participating in the prostitution of minors and with human trafficking.
    North Carolina statutes state that an individual commits the offense of human trafficking by knowingly recruiting, enticing, harboring, transporting, providing, or obtaining by any means a person to be held in involuntary or sexual servitude.
    If the person is a minor, that constitutes a class C felony. At forty years per offense times at least sixteen victims, the defendants were looking at 640 years just on the trafficking counts. No wonder they were all scrambling to make deals. Story and the madams were singing like canaries on crack.
    Story was claiming ignorance of any knowledge of trafficking or prostitution. His lawyers were proposing full cooperation in return for a sentence not to exceed fifteen years. Mrs. Tarzec and the othermadams were offering guilty pleas in exchange for maximum sentences of eight years.
    Gross’s attorney had approached the DA about a plea to reduced charges. The DA wasn’t biting.
    “Will any of the girls testify?” I asked.
    Slidell snorted. “They’re so freaked they won’t even raise their eyeballs when I’m talking to them.”
    “But Majerick is dead and Gross is behind bars.”
    “The pigfucks kept them cowed by threatening harm to their families. Majerick made the rounds with your morgue shot of Ara and Majerick’s pic of D’Ostillo. Said if anyone tried to run or slack off they’d get the same.”
    “Majerick was citizenjustice?”
    “Ee-yuh. Smarmy little bastard was watching from a truck outside the taquería. He dimed Gross to report that D’Ostillo was talking to us. Gross ordered her taken out in a way that would impress.”
    “D’Ostillo saw Majerick with Ara and the other girls.”
    Slidell nodded glumly.
    “More coffee?”
    “You able to pour with that sledgehammer you got for a mitt?”
    “Funny. Three sugars, right?”
    I went to the kitchen, returned, and handed Slidell his refill.
    “Did that bird just tell me to kiss its ass?”
    Charlie was raised in a brothel, rescued by Ryan, and gifted to me following the raid. His was not your standard “pretty bird” repertoire. I didn’t feel up to explaining that to Slidell.
    “Why kill Ara?” I asked, resuming my seat.
    “Majerick was driving her to the joint in NoDa. The version he gave Story was that she jumped from the truck. Archer was shocked when he learned about the accident. After the fact, of course.”
    “Of course.”
    “Majerick was violent and had a hair-trigger temper. When the kid rebelled, he probably lost it and ran her down.”
    I pictured an imp in a group of six, holding mischievous fingers above her friend’s head. Knew it was true. Knew Ara had possessed the spirit to resist.
    “And the monster just left her there.”
    “Majerick told Story there was too much traffic to collect thebody without being seen. And no chance he’d take her to a hospital, anyway.”
    I recalled the empty stretch on which Ara had died. Felt tears start to form. Slidell’s question brought me back from the