Page 77 of Sam's Salvation
“Next weekend. Their buyers come to town on Fridays. They look through the ‘merchandise,’”—she air-quoted—“eat a lot, and drink even more. The auction is always Saturday night. Some of them elect to stay until Sunday. Others take the women they bought and leave.”
“Do you think they’ll still hold it with you missing?” Max asked.
“I think they’ll have to. They’ve sent out the invites and already have several women to sell.”
“Invites?” Max sat straighter. “How does someone get an invite?”
“The website.”
“They have a website?” Sam’s eyebrows shot up. He shook his head. “I shouldn’t be surprised. The dark web is a horrible place.”
“How do you know all this?” Audra asked. “Does he really not care if you hear it?”
“Some of it, no. Celine talks too.” A bit of a smirk toyed with her lips. “I’ve done some snooping too. Just on the out chance that I’d end up with the police. I wanted a bargaining chip, so I never had to go back.”
“Well, I think you’ve got a good one,” Sam said. He turned to Audra. “You need to call Moran. We don’t have the power to arrest anyone.”
“I think we should call Asher too,” Max said. “See if he can find that site and wrangle us an invitation so we can get someone inside. If we can get Simon and Geoffrey in custody, we have a real chance at finding out if they wanted to distribute drugs or people for Brogan.”
“They didn’t know what he wanted,” Poppy chimed in.
Four sets of eyes turned on her.
“What do you mean?” Audra asked.
“He called them. Brogan, I mean. Simon didn’t know what he wanted. He just said that the head of the Irish mafia in town wanted to have dinner to discuss business.”
“They didn’t talk much business that night.” Audra frowned, running the evening back through her mind.
“I don’t remember much of it. That was a day when Simon wanted… more. I was pretty high at dinner.”
Audra’s mouth flattened as she reined in her temper. Simon was going to pay for all he’d done, one way or another. She looked at the others. “That’s rather odd. Why would he call a meeting and then not talk about business? Especially when he didn’t tell them what it was about?”
“You’re sure they didn’t talk details?” Dean asked.
“Not in front of me, no. But I was late to dinner.” She turned to Poppy. “You don’t remember anything?”
“Not much, no. I remember you. Sort of. It’s your eyes. They were kind. Until you looked at Simon. I remember that. You looked like you wanted to rip his throat out.”
“I did. I still do. Is there anything else?”
Poppy glanced away, a far off look on her face. After several moments, she shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. I get vague snatches of the restaurant. There’s an image of the salad I had for dinner. You. That’s it. I’m sorry.” A crestfallen look took over her pretty face.
“Don’t be sorry,” Audra said. “You’ve been a tremendous help.”
“She’s right, Poppy,” Sam said. “Now, how about you—eat more of your—food?”
Audra laid a hand on his thigh. He’d been good lately with the stuttering. Hearing Poppy’s account of what she’d been through was horrifying, so she wasn’t surprised his emotions were high.
“We’ll take things from here,” Max said. “You’ll have to talk to the authorities, but you have our word you’ll be safe.”
Poppy’s chin wobbled again. “You’re sure? What if—” She broke off and sniffed. “What if there are cops on Simon’s payroll?”
“Poppy, you stumbled into the right people, okay?” Dean leaned forward. “No one’s going to hurt you with us involved.”
The girl smiled, her eyes watery. “Okay,” she whispered.
Thirty-Six