The Never List

van behind the barn, so I figured I could get to it without being seen. Jim was still minutes away, and the last thing I wanted was for those guys to come back and shoot you just before he got there. So I went for it.
    “When the cargo doors didn’t open, I got into the cab. At first I couldn’t figure out how to work the locks. It’s not exactly a Lexus,” she said.
    Tracy rolled her eyes, but Christine just smiled back at her.
    “But I found the lever,” she went on, “and heard the doors click.”
    “Jesus, Christine,” I said in awe, “I can’t believe you did that. I don’t know what to say.”
    She beamed. I would never have expected it, remembering her from our cellar days. Maybe it was true—what she’d told Jim—that she had fully recovered. What if, in fact, our horrific past had only made her stronger? I envied her.
    Jim’s eyes met mine across the room, and I waved him over. He approached Christine first.
    “You understand how dangerous that was, don’t you? Do you know what could have happened to you?” He sounded genuinely upset.
    She answered him calmly, with her crisp Upper East Side enunciation, “Yes, in fact, I do know exactly how bad it could have been, Jim. That’s why I know better than to wait around for the worst to happen.”
    Jim nodded slowly, taking her point, then turned to me. He handed me my phone, which they must have recovered from the warehouse.
    “You seem to have left this behind.” He smiled gently. “How are you holding up, Sarah?”
    “I’ll live. Again.” I smiled back. “Did you get him?”
    For a fleeting moment Jim seemed embarrassed, then rallied, putting on his best professional demeanor. “No, we didn’t, but we’re staking out his compound in Keeler as we speak.”
    He moved closer, looking at me earnestly. “Sarah, I’m sorry I didn’t seem to be taking what you’d found seriously enough. But the truth is I have been doing my homework. After we spoke, I did some digging. We checked out The Vault. Their ownership records are pretty complex—lots of shell corporations owning other shell corporations. But our accounting forensics guys figured out that the club owners were partnered with one of Noah Philben’s entities. We think they were using it as a distribution hub and running most of their financial operations out of there.”
    “What about the brand, the headless man? These girls are all branded. And Noah Philben knew who I was. My real name. There has to be a connection with Jack Derber. If we can prove that Jack Derber is in on this trafficking ring, he’ll stay in jail forever, right?”
    Jim hesitated. “To tell you the truth, Sarah, I have a theory that Jack might actually be in control of the whole operation. And that he’s using Sylvia as a messenger. I don’t have solid proof yet, but I’m getting closer.”
    I stared at him. Could Jack Derber still be controlling so many lives, even under virtual lockdown? The idea made me sick. But before I could respond, one of Jim’s colleagues pulled him away, directing him to a computer screen a few desks over.
    I turned, only to see Jenny slowly making her way around the desks and chairs in the room, over to where we stood.
    “I just wanted to—to thank you. I’m outta here now, so … you know, thanks.”
    “You’re leaving? Don’t they need to take your statement? To make sure they have all the evidence they can get?”
    Jenny looked around the room at the other girls, some sitting at desks, others standing in corners, all of them looking dazed.
    “They’ve got plenty of stories to go on. I just need to get out of here. This place makes me feel like I’m the one who did something wrong. Who knows, at any minute, they could turn the tables and slap a solicitation charge on us. That’s how it goes. Either way, I know I’ll never be held prisoner again.”
    “Where are you going to go?”
    “I don’t know. Women’s shelter for the night? Something. It doesn’t matter. I’m free now, and I plan to stay that way.” And with that she slipped out the door, without looking back at us.
    By now Jim had been called over by another officer, and the two of them were talking to one of the robed girls from the van. Her long matted hair hid her face, but I could tell from her quivering shoulders that she was crying pretty hard while she told her story.
    Both men went pale at her words. When she finished, she sat down and put her head on the desk, oblivious to the papers,