Miles watched Darcy as she exited the living room. Now, that he was alone, he assessed his environment. There was nothing special about the place. The walls were made of planks of wood which had scuff marks on it. There was no TV on the walls, no pictures, the only furniture apart from the chair and the table they sat behind was an old rocking chair that was as ramshackle as the house.
Miles moved his leg and another plank of wood creaked as if wheezing from the pain of the two of them walking all over them. Miles tapped the table. Lilian had suprisingly brought the document early, a day after they had told her. After they had gotten it, he and Alice had scoured its contents for Tina Moore's name. They had done it multiple times but to no avail, her name apparently absent from the list. Miles would have assumed it was purely intentional but the document itself was old, the first few pages already yellowing a bit while the rest were white. The top left corner of the page had several stapler marks that showed that the pins had been removed to staple more papers to them several times. Miles shook his head, that wasn't a wise choice but at this point it didn't matter.
After that, they had called one of the only employees that had stayed as long as the home keeper had. The cook, Darcy Lyn. At the thought of her, the woman came from the kitchen, somehow juggling two cups of tea, a plate of cookies and a small bowl of sugar. She laid them all out on the table before wiping her large hands on the apron tied to her waist.
She smelt just like the cabin that she lived in. Chopped wood and sweat. Miles shook his head as she sat down.
"Ma'am thi-s isn't-"
"No, no I ain't taking no for an answer. I ain't listening to no whining."
Miles pointed at his badge as if to emphasize the reason for his coming.
"I-"
"You're the detective, aren't ya? So what? Everyone still needs all 'em food down their stomachs. Ask your questions after you eat." She said this as she reached towards one of the teacups and took a cookie. Miles drummed on the table, trying to conceal his discomfort.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
From the document and after confirming with a call, they had discovered she lived far, by the very edge of the city, directly opposite squalor square. Knowing she was old and of course wanting to get this done as quickly as he could, he had offered to drive here to meet her.
"For Pete's sake! Eat the damn thing, it ain't gonna kill ya! Why are all ya detective people so downy? If ya don't get your mouth chewing on 'em goods , kiss ya answers goodbye!"
Miles almost rolled his eyes but he knew that the woman was someone that commanded respect and liked it being handed to her in great measure. The background check on her showed that she had been in the military, very decorated official at that, while she was young then resigned to become a personal chef. Miles reluctantly grabbed a cookie from the plate. He raised it to the right side of his mouth, trying to calculate how he would have to nibble it. He took a tiny bite and instantly some crumbs fell out. He immediately raised a handkerchief and held it to the left side of his mouth as he swallowed down that tiny nibble. That same annoyance shouldered down the length of his body.
Why couldn't he just get this right?
He chewed slowly, the movement of his lips uneven as he took another nibble which resulted to another spray of crumbs. He hid his frustration by pressing the handkerchief harder to his mouth.
By the time he looked up, the woman was already on her third.
Darcy was without the sophistication that the Lilian held. She had dark skin, her hair cropped short, a couple of scars ran down the side of her face which were peppered with pimples. Despite the fact her hair had completely turned grey and wrinkles had swallowed down the sides of her face, her back was still straight and the smile her thin lips always held made her seem younger. It took some time and deliberate effort but Miles finished his first cookie.
Darcy had stopped by now and she had left three for him on the plate. She pushed the rest to his side before folding her hands.
"I'll get that all packed when we're done," Darcy clasped her fingers.
"What brings ya to my humble abode as you children call it. I bet it's about Wesley, isn't it?"
Miles nodded slowly as he stole a look at his watch. He'd already spent thirty minutes here and nothing had been achieved. He leaned forward before switching on the recorder on his phone.
"Our conversat-ion is going to be record-ed. I hope y-ou don't mind."
Darcy shook her head.
"So Darcy, do you by chan-ce know a gi-rl name-d Tina? Tina Moore?"
Darcy nodded. "Yeah, I know her. Mighty fine lass and well mannered too. She knew how to make an old lady laugh, always happy. You know kids these days don't care no more for the old." There was a forced laugh at the end which left a smile that half resembled a grimace. He felt empathy as he could almost imagine possible undertones to such a statement. Darcy shook her head, successfully shaking away the shaky smile to replace with a more firm one though he could still see through it.
"But the girl's a real angel. Much more than mine. " She looked down.
"When last di-d you see her?"
"When last I'd seen her? Well that is as fresh as the broth I whipped up this morning. Wanna have some?"
Miles raised his eyebrows at her. Darcy grunted. "Oh, you sappy detectives, how can I be eating more 'an all of ya at my-"
Miles cleared his throat. Darcy raised her hands in surrender.
"Okay, okay, don't get all serious on me now. Well, where was I? I promised her that day that I'd teach her to kick butt, make sure that no man plays her over. Our little girls ain't safe no more, we gotta teach 'em to fight. That's what my pops always said. I'd gone home after that and by the the time I'd arrived the next day, she was.....gone." Darcy chewed on her lip before reclining on the chair as she chewed on her lip.
"That one, she grew on me, ya know? Different from the rest."
"There wer-e others?"
Miles asked that to keep her talking. Darcy's thin brows furrowed at that.
"Yeah. Many others, never last more than a week or two. All skinny, bones they were, needed to be whipped into shape with some good food and a touch of Mama D's love. None of 'em ever talk to me though except for Tina. Now I think of it, Tina been the house longer than the rest."
"How long?"
Darcy rolled her eyes.
"I knew you'd ask that son, I'm not that slow." She counted underneath her breath, flexing her fingers as though trying to get her old brain to kick in to gear.
"About three weeks." She demonstrated it by raising three of her fingers at him.
They both kept silent for a while as Miles tried to gauge what exactly to say. "Tina, you sai-d she was ha-ppy, didn't you?"
Darvy nodded then hesitated. " Well... she acted happy, yes? Always smiling, cheerful. But some days, when she about the house without the mask, she looked.... dead."
"Did Tina or any of the girl-s ever appe-ar hurt?"
"Hurt as in 'oh I lost my favorite recipe book' or hurt as in 'mama got her favorite pams to smack the living daylights out of me'?"
"I guess.... smack the livin-g daylights out o-f me?"
"No. They looked okay to me but long black dresses were their unofficial official dress code. Always wearing 'em black dresses that made 'em all look like small nuns but without the scarves or whatever it is they put on their heads."
Miles jotted these down in his notebook, ideas forming in his head as well as their respective theories.
"How old wer-e these girls?"
"As I said none of 'em but Tina talked to me but from what my old eyes could see most of 'em didn't look a bit older than 12, well there were some that looked about 15 but never more than that. In fact, I asked Lilian why we needed these kids when we got all the cleaners and everything."
"What she'd say?"
Darcy narrowed her eyes. "Lilian always me at first till I cornered her. She just said 'it was nothing that concerned a war worn cook like me'. All of 'em had this look in their eyes, like children who'd been robbed of their light. Soldiers that had lost themselves to the siege of war."
"How long have they been employing these girls?"
"About two years now."
Miles rubbed his chin as he pondered on what she had said.
"Do you by any cha-nce know anyway you could conta-ct any of the girls?"
Darcy shook her head regretfully. "None at all. They always left as sudden as they came. Never shared anything personal."
"Than-k you for the informatio-n, ma'am. You're co-operatio-n has been much appreciat-ed."
Miles had already stood up and was about to leave when Darcy shouted,
"You better get your ass back here right now and carry the cookies with ya! No one leaves Mama D's empty-handed. "
Miles shook his head but a smile pulled at his lips as she had all but shouted at him to wait as she got a small plastic bag that she put the cookies before adding some more and stuffing a muffin in it.
"Do come back, sappy detective. Being alone gets old pretty fast, ya know? And I'm already as old as I can be." She smiled though he could see the visible strain. Miles nodded, already mentally adding her to the list of elderly that he helped out on Saturday. As Miles walked down the steps, she hollered,
"And I forgot to tell ya, ya look like the walkin' dead!"
***
"And I'm here because...?" The derogatory tone was sharper than before and the pale sweater she wore pooled around her thin body, almost dragging her down. Miles felt the disgust for the woman that was seated before him which he tried to hide by rubbing the table.
"I met with Darcy."
Lilian narrowed her eyes. "I don't see how that concerns me, detective."
Miles sighed. "She tol-d me that all t-he gir-ls that were employ-ed were all underag-ed."
"So?"
"Yes. She also sai-d you never really answered her questi-on on why there was a ne-ed for employi-ng them since you had other cleaners and maids. Something I am rather keen on knowin-g too."
Miles already knew the answer to do this. The autopsy had shed light on what they had most likely being doing. Lilian sat up straight, looking him dead in the eye, her gaze held defiance.
"And why would you care to know that? Isn't Wesley who we should be focusing on, his murder, his demise?"
"Lilian, I kno-w these girls were bein-g rap-ed by Wesley." It looked like her cover had been blown as Lilian stared at him mouth agape for a few seconds, her eyes wide. But as always, she quickly recollected herself.
"Well... that is quite unfortunate."
"Whe-re did you find the-m?"
"I beg your pardon."
"Where di-d you find the girls?"
"I never found them"
Miles felt the frustration bubble in his gut. He clenched his fists. A deep growl rumbled at the back of his throat as the burning rage in his chest increased. Even then he still packaged it with a deadly silence that spoke volumes of his animosity. After a few beats, he leaned forward and hissed,
"You do kno-w that you could be char-ged as an accompl-ice to the sexual assault of multiple girls. And be punish-ed duly for it."
Lilian gasped softly, her lips trembling.
"So if you're wis-e, you'll spill the beans no-w and mayb-e then the court would hav-e a little mercy on you."
"I... I wasn't the one that found them. I never was. I have no idea where they came from."
"But your job as the homekee-per is to overse-e the affairs of the house and essentially emplo-y new labour if need be, isn't it?"
"Yes. But I never did for this. In fact, I didn't t even realize what Wesley was doing with the girls until about two months after it had started."
"So yo-u weren't the on-e bringi-ng them?"
"No! After I found out, I was totally against it. I tried to talk sense into Wesley's head but he said that if I told anyone he would fire me on the spot and of course, stop my husband's treatment. "
"Your husban-d?"
Tears glossed over hers eyes as she looked away."Yeah. Him. He has leukemia."
Mies inhaled sharply. There was a high possibility that Lilian could be lying, telling sappy stories to elicit sympathy in the interviewers which could favor them. But in her gaze, Miles couldn't help but acknowledge that there was a high chance she was telling the truth. But still, he gritted his teeth, she should have done something about it.
Her husband would have taken the hit for it. And it's better for some unknown little girls to take the hit than your own lover.
Miles' anger towards her drained just a bit.
"Sorry abo-ut that."
Lilian dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief as if to stop whatever potential tears from escaping their cage.
"So, because of that i kept quiet about it all. But I can assure you, I have no idea who is employing them."
Miles licked his lips before he asked,
"Have yo-u ever seen who drop-s them off?"
Lilian tilted her head. "Yeah."
"Ho-w does he loo-k?"
"Dark man. Tall. Wears round glasses."
"Okay... Doe-s he have an-y iden-tifiable features? Unique ones?
"He has red hair..... and a scar across his forehead."
A name came to mind and his stomach did another set of flips. Philip Lerber. A drug dealer and a human trafficker, someone that had been evading their grip for so long now. Of course it was him. His chest suddenly went cold. That must mean that all the girls had been trafficked; captured forcefully and sold, their labor and bodies used to bring gains to the traffickers themselves.
Miles felt that tight feeling that corroded his chest. His stomach completely glazed over as he felt nauseous. Why did they have to do this to them? Miles quickly dismissed her, his chest hollow as he couldn't stop hearing their possible cries of pain, anguish. He couldn't stop hearing his own cry of pain. He shuddered as he walked into his office and bolted the door shut.
Miles laid his things down on the table and massaged his temple. He needed coffee. He needed it to calm him down, to drive the nerves away and fight off the exhaustion that wanted to drown him. He saw his father's file on the table and he swallowed.
He could almost feel the walls growing in his mind, mentally preparing himself for the journey ahead. He'd give Alice the details of both conversations with the recordings and everything else he was able to deduce so that she could continue from where he stopped today.
Tomorrow though, he was going to be plunging into his father's case. To dig more into his own death. He would be heading to the house.
The place where his accursed father had lived and died.