The image of her face next to Reeve’s created a hollow feeling in her core. She imagined again the unmarked grave his killers had put him in. Would they have buried her next to him? Or dumped her body in the streets of Tamarindo to be labeled as just another overdose? Then she remembered Mel’s hands on her body, the first time he’d taken her to bed.
“So what’s the story, Doctor Kincaid?” Cody asked, his sharp expression intensifying.
Cassidy realized she was holding her breath and forced herself to let it out. The article offered no more information. She handed the phone back, noticing their hungry, glittering eyes.
“Well . . . uh . . . ” she stammered, wishing a breeze off the lake would whoosh in and cool her sweaty forehead.
The bartender, a man with a thick, graying beard and a pencil tucked behind his left ear tapped down several beer bottles for the group. In a snap, the memory of Mel behind the bar in Crazy Mike’s flashed into her mind and she had to hold onto the back of the stool for support. For weeks she had managed not to think about that terrible night, and now, here it all was, waiting for her.
Alice, Izzy’s faithful sidekick, adjusted her thick black glasses. “Is it true Dr. Kincaid?” she asked, her round, placid face so trusting. Alice was the quieter kid that never missed an assignment, scored near-perfect on every test. During field camp, she had risen as a kind of star, other students seeking her out for mapping help during the day. Cassidy knew that Izzy relied on it heavily.
Cassidy adjusted the strap of her bag against her shoulder. “Yeah,” she said finally. “It’s true.”
“No shit,” Izzy said in awe.
“Whoa. So, you almost died?” Cody said. He crossed his arms, making the tribal tattoo on his right bicep bulge. His gray t-shirt said “Rub My Rump, Then You Can Pull My Pork” above a graphic of a giant pig.
“So did you bond with your captor?” Izzy said, raising her eyebrow.
Cassidy flinched, as if she’d been hit. “No,” she managed, though a nauseous wiggle was tugging at the lining of her throat.
“How did you escape?” Alice asked.
“Did you press charges?” someone else asked. “I certainly would.” She recognized William’s steady voice.
“Sorry, this . . . is a surprise,” Cassidy said, telling herself that everything would be okay if she could just escape to a table outside to sit by herself. Remember the things Jay taught you. Breathe deeply. This isn’t real—it’s over, it’s all in the past. She should probably abandon her beer and go for a run instead, but she had already downed half of it.
“C’mon,” Cody groaned. “We haven’t read a newsfeed in eight days and we find out our professor broke up a sex trafficking ring singlehanded? Throw us a bone here.”
Cassidy attempted a weak smile, but it only shook loose a sense of failure and sadness. To her horror, she felt her throat thickening with tears.
“Lay off,” Izzy said, shooting Cody a loaded look. “I mean, her brother died.”
Cassidy resisted the urge to correct Izzy—Reeve wasn’t her brother by blood, but his sacrifice to save Jade somehow made that detail unimportant.
Meanwhile, the others seemed to draw back, as if a spell had been broken.
Cassidy squared her shoulders to the group. Most looked disappointed—Cody even looked suspicious, like he wasn’t letting this go so easily. “Thanks for understanding,” Cassidy said, and carried her beer outside.
Beyond the trees edging the lake, Cassidy noticed paddleboats and kayaks and could hear outboard motors come and go from the dock. A lone fisherman stood in his waders casting his line at the creek’s inlet.
She settled at a table on the corner of the deck and opened her laptop. The story wasn’t hard to find, and as she read it, slowly this time, her body clenched tighter and tighter until she felt like a coiled spring.
…Tomlinson and the three members of the Vasquez family have been charged with 50 counts of human rights violations and if convicted, will serve a minimum of 30 years and as long as several life sentences.
Tomlinson — who coordinated the sex acts using photographs and a website — is facing trial this week. He culled the victims, deciding which would stay in Tamarindo and which would be moved through Mexico to the United States, where they were put to work in massage parlors.
Federal officials agree that the trafficking of human beings as sex slaves is far more prevalent than is popularly understood. While saying it is difficult to pinpoint the scope of the industry, given its shadowy nature, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) officials estimated that it likely generates more than $9.5 billion a year.
Last year alone, the FBI opened more than 225 human trafficking investigations in the United States. In a coordinated nationwide sweep in December, federal, state and local authorities made more than 640 arrests and rescued 47 children in just three days.
“These young women were either sold or enticed into working as a way to help their families, only to arrive in America and discover that what awaited was a nightmare,” said FBI special agent Bruce Keolani.
The 50-count indictment, unsealed Thursday, represents the largest sex trafficking case prosecuted in Southern California by the federal government in at least a decade, the U.S. attorney's office said.
This case is unique because two American victims were involved. Reeve Bennington, a California surf guide was killed while trying to smuggle one of the victims through Nicaragua, and Cassidy Kincaid, a geology student at the University of Oregon, survived an attack by Tomlinson who attempted to cover up his involvement
