“Is Esme in danger from this Major?”
“Not going to lie to you, Brett. Short answer is, I don’t know. Long answer? You got a gun?” When Brett nods, Demon continues, “I’d keep it on you and don’t let Esme out of your sight. Oh, go to the press, get them to print a story about how she’s back. Also, go to the cops. I don’t know what the law is in Arizona, but in Colorado, it’s illegal to tattoo anyone like Esme. That, for a start, with no other evidence, is enough to have them searching for Major. May make him go to ground, or at least make it too hot for him to try and get his hands on her again.”
My fear is that he’ll want his property back. But all we can do is impress on Brett the need to take precautions, and hopefully they’ll be enough. We can’t keep Esme away from her parents, she needs more than we can give her.
Brett’s head is dipping up and down slowly. “I’ll talk to the cops. See about getting her some protection. As you say, making a noise about her return may keep this Major at a distance. I doubt any prosecution will stick, though. Esme, well she’s not a credible witness.”
“We’re not giving up searching for Major.” Something passes between Brett and Demon, acknowledged only by lifts of their chins.
“What about this fucking tattoo on her back?” Brett looks toward me. “Can I get it removed?”
I give him my advice. “It would have to be done professionally. Not by some quack. Will take ten or twelve sessions in my estimation, or she could cover it up. Vi can show you the design she did for Shayla. I know Esme liked that.”
Brett’s head falls into his hands. “I don’t know what’s best to do, but I know I hate it and I’ve not even seen it.” He thinks for a moment. “If I go to the cops, will it cause trouble for your club?”
Demon shakes his head. “They’re welcome to talk to us. We run a legit tattoo parlour; we’ve got nothing to hide. We didn’t touch her tattoo ourselves, so we’re in the clear. But there’s not a lot we can tell them. Our tech guy traced you through public records and the noise you made about Esme on social media.”
“But you didn’t go straight to them to tell them you’d found an underage girl who’s been abused. Fucked up badly enough she refuses to talk.”
Demon leans forward, his hands clasped on the desk in front of him and his eyes flare. “Didn’t know who her parents were, Brett. Could have been some sorry fuckers who sold their own kid. Cops could have passed her back to her family who’d simply give her to the likes of Major, again. No, we couldn’t risk that. Not until we’d checked her home situation out.”
Brett stares at Demon, then huffs, and proves he’s not stupid at all. “The visit from the journalist on a motorcycle? I thought it odd the press was resurrecting the story, but at this point we’d clutch at any straw offered so we talked to him.”
“She’s got a lovely room, I’m told.” Demon smirks.
Esme’s dad is quiet as everything sinks in. “Thank you,” Brett says suddenly, his eyes filling with tears once again. “You did your best, I can see that. Others might just have wanted shot of a disabled girl, but you, you helped her. Thank you on behalf of all the Esme’s out there. I’d like to thank the woman who helped her as well. Between her and you, she’s had some angels watching out for her.”
Not angels, I mentally correct him, or maybe the one. But it’s Devils who been looking over her this past week.
“Just sorry we weren’t there earlier,” replies Demon.
Brett wipes his eyes once more and noisily blows his nose. “This is going to kill Maisie. How the hell do I tell her?”
“She’s got her daughter back,” Demon says confidently. “It’s devastating, I know. But the what-ifs are worse.” He means she had so narrowly escaped being raped and ending up dead or never being found. Not much but he’s right, Brett needs to be grateful for small mercies. “What you’ve both got to do is help Esme get through this. Focus on her. One thing I will say is, she seems resilient.”
Chapter Eighteen
Vanna
“What’s going on?” I ask Mel, when there’s shouting coming from the clubroom.
I’d noticed a young and strangely quiet girl, but assumed she was the daughter or relative of one of the members. But the way she’d left the kitchen with such a look of disbelief and hope on her face made me think it was something more.
When Mel fills me in on her story, I have to find a chair. Mel said no one knew for certain, but they thought she was fourteen or fifteen, and I agree, she didn’t look much older. She’s the same age as Cas.
Boys could be pimped out the same way as girls, I know that of course, but I’d never dreamed I’d have to fear him being taken. Just the thought is unbearable, and Mel has to put a tissue into my hand as I consider it. Cas has been sneaking out at all hours, when he’s staying around his friends, and I’m never quite certain what he gets up to there. What if one day he just never returned? I don’t think I’d be able to bear it.
“They haven’t seen her for more than four months?” When Mel nods, I think what a happy reunion they’ll be having, but then realise that will be tinged with grief. From what I’ve been told, Esme has retained her virginity thank God, but must have lost her innocence and bore witness to the depravity of men. How does a parent cope with that knowledge?
Vi appears in the doorway, one hand on the doorjamb. “Demon’s talking to Esme’s dad, I’m keeping Maisie, her mom, company. Can we have some coffee and some of your muffins if they’re ready, Mel?”
“Yes, I’ll bring them out. I’ve got those cupcakes Esme likes too.”
“Thanks, oh, and Demon’s explaining everything to Esme’s dad. I think he should be the one to update Maisie. She’s just happy that Esme’s safe and well.” Vi gives a sad smile. “Well, I think she’s happy, she’s not been able to stop crying yet.”
At least she’s got her partner to lean on, I think, perhaps a little waspishly. Then want to slap myself around the head. What that poor woman’s going through, I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, and she doesn’t even know the worst as yet.
Not wanting to crowd her, Mel and I stay in the kitchen and continue baking. Mel explains that she loves cooking here as the equipment’s much larger than what she and Pyro have in their house.
The men who aren’t working today pop in from time to time and that tub of muffins Mel baked start to disappear. I help her prepare another batch. The simple chores of working alongside her help me come to terms with the words Liz had thrown at me earlier—his justification why Cas could in no way be a son of his. It had hurt. Guess I had my answer about whether he and I had a chance of getting back together. None.
Obeying her instruction, I take Mel’s next batch of muffins out of the oven, acting on autopilot, while thoughts race around my head. There are worse things than being a single mom with a wayward son, as Esme had proved. What if Cas was taken from me? I don’t think I could survive it.
I should be thankful of what I’ve got and accept miracles don’t happen.