I leaned back, shaking my head. “That’s odd to think I’ve been declared deceased.”
“Is it?” Mr. Sparrow asked.
His question caught me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“Is it odd, or did you know that too?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Then why have you been calling yourself Miller?” Mr. Sparrow asked.
“It was how I was introduced to Andros.” This was getting too close to the truth. “I had no identification. Somehow Andros provided it, in the name Madeline Miller. I didn’t ask questions.”
Mr. Sparrow’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you be introduced as Miller?”
“Who introduced you?” Mason asked.
My eyes closed.
Under my lids, I saw the room in the mansion filled with men. The scent of expensive cologne and cigar smoke came back, causing me sudden nausea as I recalled my bound wrists and the senator’s hands on my skin.
“Would you believe she’s a virgin?”
Laughter.
“Ms. Miller,” Mr. Sparrow said.
My eyes snapped open. “That’s not my name. My legal last name is Kelly.” My voice rose. “I never want to hear that other name again. Please stop saying it.” I turned to Patrick. “You can reject me. After the truth is out, I expect you to. But if I could ask one thing—if you ever did love me—please change Ruby’s name. She never deserved it.”
“I’m not rejecting you, Madeline. What do you mean, deserved it?”
“She was never one of Dr. Miller’s girls.”
“Fuck,” came like a growl from across the table.
I looked up, seeing something different in the dark eyes staring my way.
“I’m lost,” Patrick said.
“You’re not,” Mason said. “You aren’t seeing what’s in front of you. In Allister’s papers, there were references to a pseudonym Miller, Dr. Miller. He was known to…” His green eyes scanned from Patrick to Mr. Sparrow, purposely avoiding me.
Patrick sat taller, his touch disappearing from my leg. “Who introduced you to Ivanov?”
“Introduced is the kind descriptor,” I said. “I’ll never forget his name.”
“My father?” Mr. Sparrow asked.
“No, sir. I never heard your father’s name before last night. I didn’t even know who he was when it was first said. The man who introduced us was…”
Patrick
Red filled my vision, dripping like blood over the cabin of the plane as it would over the camera’s lens in a poorly filmed horror movie.
McFadden.
The conversation continued, albeit muffled by my building rage.
“What is a better word than introduction?” Mason asked.
“Sold. There was an auction in a mansion.”
With a flip of my wrist and pinch of my fingers, my seatbelt was unlatched, and I sprang to my feet. I was fucking trapped in a flying sardine can. All I wanted was to walk, to pace, no to kill. Fuck, I wanted McFadden’s head on a goddamned platter to place at Madeline’s feet.
“We found some paperwork years ago,” Mason said. He was apparently the only one still capable of coherent speech.
My eyes went to Sparrow. If I didn’t know him as well, I would be concerned that he too would explode. His neck was taut and the seams in his jacket were ready to rip from the pressure of his contained fury.
“Under that name, he ran a clinic,” Mason went on, “that was not actually a clinic but an entry point for the trafficking and exploitation of women and minors.”
“That would describe it. I wasn’t there long,” Madeline said.
“How the fuck did you end up there?” I asked. “Were you kidnapped when you went to buy kitchen supplies?”
Madeline swiveled her chair to look at me. “What kitchen supplies?”
“The pastor’s wife, Kristen, she said she gave you a hundred dollars and you never returned.”
Madeline’s chin rose. “Her name was Kristine, and she took me to Dr. Miller’s after taking me shopping and out to lunch. She told me she knew someone who could help me learn if I was pregnant.” Madeline undid her seat belt and stood. Ignoring the rest of the room, she stared directly into my gaze. “Patrick, I didn’t take her hundred dollars. The office is where I filled out the papers. Kristine sold me for three…for three hundred dollars and our unborn child for five hundred.”
My head shook. “She told me you left, insinuated that you left me and stole from her.”
“And you believed her?”
I ran my palm over my head, the brittleness of my hair under my palm. “I didn’t want to. God knows, I didn’t want to.” Rage continued to smolder beneath my heated skin. “She looked me in the eye and lied.”
“Statistically,” Mason said, “more trafficking victims are lured by trusted associates than by strangers. It makes sense.”
I remembered something Madeline had said earlier. “You said you met Ivanov in June. Where were you from February to June?”
Her head shook as she retook her seat. With her head held high, she stared across the table to Sparrow. “I have some money hidden. If you will please allow me to see Ruby, just see her and know she’s safe, I will stay away from your home and family.”
“Where were you from February to June?” Sparrow repeated my question, his voice eerily calm.
“I don’t know the exact location. It was in Chicago or one of the suburbs. The evening I was taken to Senator McFadden’s home, I saw the neighborhood. It was nice, not as nice as his, but normal.”
“A neighborhood?” Mason asked.
“From the outside the house looked like any other.” Her head shook. “Not on the inside.”
Spinning her chair back to me, I hunched down near her knees with my hands on her thighs. “Is this why you think I’ll reject you?” My voice cracked. “Because you were victimized?”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I allowed it. I did whatever I was told to do to protect Ruby.” Her chin dropped. “I-I wasn’t a victim. I did what I was told.”
My thumb and forefinger went to her chin. “You survived what many don’t.”
“Patrick, it’s bad enough that I have spent sixteen years at Andros’s disposal. Those four months, I lost count of the men. The first night, in Dr. Miller’s office, there were four, including the senator.”
The pressure in my chest grew painful. It took all my restraint not to lash out—not at Madeline but at the people who hurt her and even at myself. My jaw clenched, yet my gaze remained on her. “I’m so sorry. It was my job to keep you safe. I’m the one who failed.”
“Since I saw you at Club Regal,” she said, “I’ve been remembering things I’d blocked away. When Ruby was missing, I was so afraid that she’d end up in a place like the cell house.”
“The cell house?” I asked.
“There was a basement where we were kept until we were called.”
“You weren’t alone?” Mason asked.
Madeline’s eyes were still on me. “No. The number of girls varied, but usually there were about ten or twelve.”