Koradonda Chapter 1: An Encounter With the Police: Part 1

Ann never dreamed of what being nice to an abused teenager could lead to. But it put her center stage for when an ancient and powerful creature reveals itself. And there are more of them.

“Nine one one. What is the nature of your emergency?”

The quiet male voice in the operator’s headphones said, “I am at the Sleep Ez Motor Inn on 14^th. A man, keeping an underaged girl as a sex slave, just checked into room eight. I think he is just going to grab a quickie and leave. You need to get there fast, or they will be gone.”

The line went dead.

The operator checked the number. It was at the bar across the street from there and not a cell phone. It was one of the few public phones still in operation in the city. She considered it for a moment, then forwarded it to Tactical Response, the city’s replacement for SWAT, instead of sending it to the local patrol as the new policy on human trafficking required, even though it had no name associated with the call.

Less than an hour later.

Two combat-armored Tactical Response Unit policemen holding the ram reared it back. Then they slammed it forward into the door.

Bam!

Splintered pieces of the cheap wooden door flew into the room.

The lead officer’s eyes saw a nude young girl, not more than sixteen, riding a naked middle-aged man of average build.

Other officers in full tactical gear rushed past the two holding the ram, weapons at the ready.

The girl’s fury-filled eyes snapped to them. In an instant, before the lead man was two steps in, she sprang for them with a cry of rage.

“Sara, heel!” the man on the bed screamed.

In an eyeblink she dropped to kneel on the floor, placing her forehead against the carpet and hand flat on the floor beside her head.

Guns aimed; officers continued rushing in.

The man’s hands were already above his head, and in plain sight.

The trailing officer brought a blanket to cover the girl.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he said and tried moving her.

She refused to budge.

“Sara! Obey the police,” ordered the man on the bed in a gruff, harsh voice.

The officer standing closest to him said, “You say something to the girl again and you’re going to find it hard to talk.”

The girl stood. The blanket slid to the ground. Not only was the fury gone, but she had a smile on her face as she looked the officers over.

The officer picked up the blanket again and held it out to her.

She looked at it, a frown on her face.

“You need to wrap it around you,” the officer holding it said. “We will get you something better at the station.”

With a shrug, she took the blanket, wrapped it around her shoulders, leaving herself very much exposed.

The supervisor sighed and said to the officer next to him, “Patrolman Donalson is on duty. See if she has time to sit with her. Tell her the girl will need something to wear.”

**

Ann Donaldson brought Sara jail coveralls, irritated that they locked the room where they kept the clothes for undercover work again. They’re not supposed to do that when the person on night-shift who had the key has the night off.

“What’s your name, honey? I’m Ann.”

“Sara.”

“Well, Sara, can you put these on? I know they’re not a good thing to wear, but they are better than that blanket.”

The teenage girl stood, dropped the blanket with no inhibition as far as Ann could see.

The men present politely turned their heads, but stayed alert in case it was a ploy to put them off guard.

Ann sighed. The coveralls were slightly too large.

At the table, notebook in hand, the detective said, “Sara, can you tell us your last name?”

Ann saw that the girl was thinking hard about something.

“I don’t think I have one.”

Ann couldn’t help but frown. As far as she could tell, Sara believed what she said.

“What’s the name of the man you were with?” he asked her.

Sara’s expression became indignant, and said in a huffy voice, “I was not with a man. I was pleasing my Master.”

Ann said as sweetly as she could, “Do you know his name?”

“No,” the girl replied, voice still filled with indignation.

“Can you tell me just how long you have been with your ‘master’?”

Sara gave them a look, as if that was a stupid question. “Always. This is my third birthday. That is why I got to go to town. He’s even going to take me to a restaurant.” Suspicion filled the girl’s face. “You’re not going to let us go to a restaurant, are you?”

Ann said, “I’m sorry, but for now we can’t.”

Sara’s face fell. She looked like a little child that had been waiting for Christmas all year and was just told there was no Santa. Noise outside their interrogation room door signaled the man had arrived. The police sergeant said, “Sara, me and Detective Reilly have some things to do, but Ann here, will keep you company.”

**

When the detective and sergeant stepped out of the room, a third man waited with a file.

“Driver’s license gives a name of John Jones. DOB says he is seventy-one, not his apparent age of approximately thirty-five, so it is bogus. He has declined a phone call, nor has he asked for a public defender. They did not let him dress before bringing him in. From the looks of him before he got some coveralls, they had roughed him up. But he has not made threats or complaints about it. He is too cool by far.”

Taking that folder, the two men entered interrogation room two and took their seats. “Mr. um Jones, or whatever your name might be, we would like some answers.”

His voice was cold and precise, with just the hint of some foreign accent. “What talking regarding this case that I will do, I will do in court.” He appeared to think about it. “I do have some things I will say so long as it is understood that I am not waving my right not to incriminate myself.”

“I am sorry, but I do not have the authority to do that.”

A man quietly stepped inside the door and said, “I, however, do. I will stop you if you get into areas that I cannot, not use in court.”

The detective introduced the man that had entered. “Mr. Jones, Assistant Prosecutor Wells.”

“It is simply this. Do not make Sara mad if I’m not there to call her off.”

A confused look washed over Detective Reilly face. “One thing that puzzles me is that when Miss Sara went after the police officers there, you did not use the distraction to try to escape. It would not have worked, but you did not even try. You stopped her from interfering.”

“Any deaths would have complicated things badly. I did not want any blood on my hands.”

“Come now, our men are hardly going to shoot a nude, unarmed, young teen-aged girl.”

“Precisely. They would have been dead before they even realized she was a serious threat.”

“Mr. Jones, I don’t think that you should say anything until you speak with a lawyer.” Wells motioned the detectives outside.

“We have a problem, gentlemen. It looks as if everything we got from the bust may have to be thrown out.”

“That was a good bust, even if the guys roughed him up some after. That case has nothing to do with the other.”

“We got a hit on Sara’s prints. Sara Long, runaway at age sixteen, missing three years, presumed dead. She is not an underage minor. She is nineteen and apparently with him of her own accord. The most that we have at the moment is sexual involvement with someone with a diminished capacity. The law is specific. We had a warrant for unlawful imprisonment and trafficking of a minor. We cannot use any evidence that we obtained under that warrant in this case until and unless we prove he was keeping her involuntarily. The judge will send Miss Long to the State Mental Hospital for evaluation, but any charges against Mr. Jones himself will be thrown out. He’ll walk. I’m not even sure I can justify putting a 72-hour hold on before charging him while you investigate.”

“Shit.”

“Things are even more interesting. As soon as the ID came through, an officer called Ms. Long, who is a Nashville Emergency Dispatcher, to tell her we found her daughter. She asked if she needed to come and identify the body. When told she was alive, she said it could not possibly be Sara then. Said something about cancer and that it hurt too much to talk about it; she gave the cancer clinic phone number. The officer called the clinic, which, it seems, runs a full night staff. Said he needed Sara’s medical files to identify her. They assumed her body, and he did not enlighten them, so they sent these records. Before coming to you gentlemen, I had a brief discussion with the pathologist. After a look at the chart, he said none of the cadavers he had autopsied that died of multiple-cancerous tumors had anywhere near this many. She should not have been alive when the chart was made, much less three years later.”

A uniformed officer squeezed past with four pizza boxes and stopped at interrogation room one and began fumbling for the doorknob.

Detective Reilly said, “Hold it right there.” He then went to the door and opened it. “Ann, could you step into the hall for a moment?”

When the door closed behind her, he asked, “Just what are you doing?”

“I’m sorry, sir, I should have cleared it with you first. You saw how disappointed she was when she found out she was not going to a restaurant. Well, her idea of a restaurant is pretty simple, just a group of people together eating. When I realized what she thought a restaurant was, and how disappointed at not going to one she was, I spoke before I thought and said I could bring one to her. I didn’t see any harm in a bunch of us having lunch in the interrogation room instead of the break room or at our desks. She isn’t under arrest, after all.”

“Are you learning much from her?”

“One, she had been having sex with him as long as she can remember. She has always lived in the woods with him. I think maybe in a tent, because it seems she moves around a lot. And more about what animals do in the woods than I want. Her mind is not exactly childish, but she acts that way in some things. I figured it was best to just keep her talking, only ask questions indirectly. Keep her talking and see what comes out. If you’re friendly, she just keeps on rambling. It doesn’t appear that she’s been given any instructions on things not to say to the police, so from time to time interesting facts drop out.”

Thinking that over, he instructed, “Go ahead, have your pizza party. Do what you can to get the girl to trust you.”

“If you want me to do that, any real questions should come from someone else. If I make a question that sounds like it is an accusation of the man she refers to as her master, then she’ll stop talking to me, maybe to all of us. I can’t play good cop and bad cop both. If I’m to be the good cop, I had better not step out of character.”

She looked him straight in the eye. “Just a point; I have no idea what this Mr. Jones is trying to pull, but he says she’s dangerous. He claims if he hadn’t called her off when we busted in, she’d have killed everyone. I think this is an exaggeration, but keep in mind she could be a trained fighter. She seems to have possibly undergone deep brainwashing, so there is no telling how good a fighter he could have made her into, even as young as she is.”

Ann returned to the interrogation room, followed by another uniform carrying the pizzas and five more men.

**

The night-shift captain came out of his office and saw that most of the desks were empty, the open interrogation room with what appeared to be a party going on. He stormed across the room and put his head in the door.

All the officers stopped in mid-motion.

“Ann,” he bellowed, “why isn’t that report done and on my desk?”

Rage flashed in Sara’s eyes, and she sprang. The captain tripped on his own feet, backing up.

Sara’s first swipe with her hand that was moving with blinding speed only scratched the smallest part of the front of his throat, as he fell backwards

Ann screamed, “Sara! Stop!” interrupting her before she made the second swipe that would have ripped out his throat. She would not move from between Ann and the supervisor, and growled throatily at him.

Detective Reilly, keeping his head cool, closed the interrogation room door with the captain on the outside. “Gentlemen, please go back to eating pizza. Ann, if you would ask Sara to sit back down.”

Ann lifted a piece of pizza and held it out to the girl. “Sara, come sit by me and have some more pizza.

A grin on her face, the young woman did exactly that.

Reilly left.

In interrogation room two, he found Mr. Jones, a sickly white. “Mr. Jones, do you need a doctor?”

“I told you not to get her mad. How many did she kill?”

“No one died or was even hurt.”

Jones’ eyes drilled into him, and he said, “Tell me about it.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Tell him,” Wells said, again entering without being noticed.

“When one officer yelled at another, she went after the one doing the yelling.”

Jones shook his head. “That would not set her off. I need to know the details that led up to this event.”

Reilly looked to Wells, who nodded. “A young female uniform was sitting in with her during our first interview, since young girls are often more comfortable with someone like that in the room. She heard that you had told Sara you would take her to a restaurant. Sara became very disappointed when she found out she would not be going. Somehow, the young officer found out that Sara did not even know what a restaurant was and thought it was just a group of people eating together, so she thought to cheer her up by throwing a pizza party. The captain, seeing everyone was goofing off, yelled at the first person he saw, which was the officer whose idea it was to throw the pizza party.”

“The young female officer, whom you had sit with Sara. This is most unexpected. I am curious though, how is it that the man is alive?”

“She missed on her first blow.”

“That is surprising. He is then a trained martial artist and was braced for the attack? He could then hold her off until others could rescue him?”

“Well, no. She stopped when Ann told her to.”

It was obvious to the men present that Mr. Jones was cursing, but none had any idea what language he was using. He had not raised his voice, but the sound of it was hard on the ears.

***

Mr. Jones did not like the complication.

Was this an opportunity to be seized?

Or a setback in his plans that he could ill afford?

He had to get a hold of himself. Way too much was riding on this. That Sara liked her was an excellent sign, but he wished he could have met the woman before deciding.

He spoke quietly. “You have certain options available to you. The simplest and safest is to put Sara in a cage or cell alone. You can send this Ann away and keep her away until you no longer have Sara here; however, if you do that, Sara will become somewhat distrustful of every person here. Or you can keep this Ann with Sara and let me tell her some ground rules for dealing with Sara to keep people from getting hurt.”

Wells said, “I’ll send for Ann. We will listen, then decide what to do. Are you sure that you do not need a doctor?”

“A large meal would do more for me than any doctor ever could.”

**

Ann entered interrogation room two with a half full pizza box, which she set before him, her eyes smoldering.

Mr. Jones sighed. “Young woman, control yourself. If Sara were to get a hint of your hatred for me, you would go from trusted to dead before you knew it. If you cannot do this, then go home, for I have no wish to see you dead.”

Little about humans impressed him but this came close. It was like a mask went on, and this charming, likable girl was standing there.

He smiled. “Very good. Only your scent gives you away. Sara has not had enough dealing with people to tell a lie from the truth. Because of your actions and friendliness, Sara looks on you as one that she must protect, and expects certain protections from you. Her definition of what is dangerous and yours are not the same. For an example, Sara knows what a gun is. If a man had a gun pointed at you, she would not necessarily see it as a threat until he did something that showed that he was going to use it. As you have found out, harsh words can be perceived as intent to harm. If you are not ready, she can react faster than you can stop her. You told her to stop, and she did. Another harsh word would have set her back in motion, though. Stop, to her, means that danger might still erupt. Heel makes it plain that it is bluster, and she is to stay out of it. Only if she sees you get injured, or about to be injured, would she then act. If anyone else says stop or heel, she will ignore it. You are someone she protects, not her master, so you cannot tell her to obey someone else. If she seems nervous, patting or petting her head or shoulder will have a calming effect. I would try to limit the number of people around you at any one time. That way there are fewer possibilities of someone saying something about or to you that could set her off. She was much safer to be around until you got yourself mixed up in this.”

Ann said, “No good deed goes unpunished.”

“Exactly.”

“Why do you talk about her as if she is some trained animal?”

“That, I will not answer at this time.”

Interview over, the three walked out.

So what do you think about Ann, Sara and Jones?