Truth or Lies?, A. Gomez [reading an ebook .TXT] 📗

Kosovo,” she continued. “You see, these towns are where some of the girls lived and returned to once they escaped their horror. I had to interview them. I had to ask how they managed to escape.” She watched me as I scrolled through all of September.

“And? What did they tell you?” I wondered.

“A few of them told me they got away by mere luck. Others said the authorities were finally able to find them. And still others mentioned a group of vigilantes helped them.”

“Good gracious, Belín. Look at all these faces. They look like babies. And they’re all smiling, happy to be home no doubt.”

“Yes, very happy. These girls you are looking at are older teens. They all came from a good home and a good family. No drug problems, no abuse and none of them had social issues or problems,” Belín added. “A few of them had boyfriends, in fact. This is the public’s misconception about this horrible world.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled.

“These girls were recruited, for lack of a better word,” she explained. “These sex traffickers have what the authorities call ‘Romeos.’ These are attractive young men that meet the girls through social media and build a relationship with them, telling the girl they have fallen in love with her. They ask her to come to him and promise they will build a life together and he will take care of her forever. And being a young, naive and inexperienced girl, she believes him… She begins to think,” Belín continued, “this handsome man loves her and wants her and before anyone is aware of anything, she is making plans with him to go meet him.”

I continued to scroll through, reaching October and noticing the girls were much younger. I would have ventured to say late elementary or early middle school age. I gave Belín a look of utter shock. How could anyone let this happen?

“I see you’ve gotten to the pictures of the youngest girls I found,” she said. “It is definitely difficult to understand how this can happen or how anyone can have a twelve- year-old girl in the sex trafficking world.”

“Belín, I know I see a lot of this in my line of work, but never like this. I usually get the kiddos that need help with the recovery process. I just don’t know what to say.”

“It is difficult to look at, I know, but the public needs to know so we can help stop this. This sort of trafficking produces more money than drugs could ever produce. You see, once the drug is consumed, that is it. It’s gone. The person may come back for more or they may overdose and die. But with just one girl in the sex trafficking world, she can be used over and over and over again. She can make them hundreds of thousands of dollars upon hundreds of thousands of dollars. It is quite staggering.”

“You said your investigation is leading you to Dallas. Can you say where in Dallas?” I asked.

“I can’t say where but I will say, it’s in the same county as where your parents live. My contact there has told me most likely the men involved in this are well-respected men in their community,” she mused. “Which, in my opinion, sounds more dangerous. They are better able to get closer to children.”

“I’m not surprised to hear that there are pedophiles and sex traffickers in my home town,” I said with a disappointed tone. “It usually is someone that’s close to the victim or someone related to them that commits these crimes.” I kept scrolling through the pictures. “Have you and Ben talked about what you’re doing and your assignment?”

“Yes, we’ve discussed it a little. He knows a great deal about what I’ve seen and what these girls have told me. I suppose in his field he needs to be well informed.” She paused for a long moment. “He also told me a little about what you two are dealing with. He could only say certain things but I was able to fill in the blanks.”

“Yes, well, after what’s happened to me and what you’ve witnessed, it’s really no secret,” I said.

She paused and eyed me for a moment. “Isabel, the errand your mother sent Charlie and me on… was to thank Joshua Rockwall and to deliver his birthday gift from you.” She was watching me, waiting for a reaction. I stopped scrolling and looked up at her.

“What?”

“We went to the hospital to see Joshua. We took him the cake your mother bought as well.” She giggled at the memory. “When we walked in with that cake and he saw us, he was so excited. He thought I was you and kept calling me Isabel, baby.” Belín found it amusing and was giggling harder. “I did not realize we look so much alike. Ben did say the other agents are having difficulty telling us apart.”

“Belín, get to the point!” I snapped, getting a little irritated.

“Oh, yes,” she continued. “Once I started talking, he quickly realized I was not you, obviously because of my Spanish accent, and I explained how sorry you were that you couldn’t come yourself. I was about to say why but Charlie cut me off and gave him only part of the truth. I think he said you weren’t feeling well.” She took the laptop and began to scroll through the pictures. “At that point, I gave him your gift and Charlie placed the cake on that little table with wheels. And Isabel, how unromantic you were… what you had inscribed on the back of his watch… ‘Be patient with me. We have all the time in the world,’ what was that? There was no I love you or anything, just a heart and your name. Are all Americans like you?” she asked, disappointed.

“No, just me.” My chest ached at the