“And they all worked the same way?”
She nodded. “Pretty much.”
“So that works out to what-” I calculated in my head, “-$1.5 million in four years-that’s almost $400,000 per year for the pimp! Wow. I guess that explains why they’re drawn to it.”
Annie nodded. “They make a lot of money off these girls.”
“And you didn’t get to keep any of the money?” I asked.
She shook her head. “We got an allowance-twenty-five dollars per week. If we did something really good-like bring in a really big night-we might get a bonus: fifty dollars or something. But mostly, we didn’t get anything.” She paused. “I mean, he bought food and clothes, but we didn’t get any money.”
“Carla,” Toni said, “let me get your opinion. In her last text message, Isabel says that it was ‘too good to be true.’ What do you think was happening?”
“This was like three weeks after she was recruited?” Carla said.
“Yeah. It was on May 28, and she was picked up sometime around May 7.”
“It sounds like they were telling her she was going to have to go to work, and she didn’t want to go.”
“Did you ever see that before?”
“Yeah, a few times. It happened to me. I was twelve. I didn’t want to have to start meeting other men.”
“What happened?”
“I got beat up. Usually, that’s what happens.”
“And you had to give in?”
She nodded. “Yeah. He beat me-said he’d kill me. He said he’d kill my family if I ran. So I did what he said. It’s not like I had much of a choice. This always happened when I pushed back. Later, he’d come and make up, and then things would be good for a while. As long as I did what I was supposed to.”
“And what about the men you were forced to see?” Toni asked.
“They were the worst,” Carla said with disdain. “I’ve been beaten by johns. I’ve been stabbed twice. I’ve been choked. I’ve been raped three times. I even got thrown out of a moving car once. We were just like garbage to them. Basically, they suck.”
“I’m so sorry someone put you through all that,” Toni said. “Thank God you made it through in one piece.”
Carla smiled. “I did,” she said. “I made it.” She reached her hand across the table. Annie took it and gave it a squeeze.
I watched them. Carla’s nightmare was over-at least the physical part. I suspected that the mental part might take longer to deal with. A young girl can’t be forced into sex with four thousand men in a four-year period and come out without serious emotional scars. These were going to take a while-maybe a whole lifetime-to overcome. Thank goodness for caring people like Annie Hooper-people who gave a damn and weren’t content to turn away and pretend the problem didn’t exist.
But Carla was safe now. For Isabel, though, it was different picture. Unless we could find her and pull her out-and do it fast-Isabel’s long nightmare was just about to begin.
Chapter 6
We were on a roll. When Annie called Reverend Jenkins to see if he’d be willing to talk to us, his administrative secretary said that the Reverend would be in a bible study meeting until two thirty, but that he’d be free to see us afterward for a few minutes. The Twenty-Third Street Baptist Church is located right on Twenty-Third just a little south of Madison. We had just enough time to return to our office and make a few phone calls before we hit the road again, this time headed south. We arrived five minutes early and found a parking space down Twenty-Third and across the street on Howell. By the time we walked back across the street, the study meeting had apparently just adjourned because a small crowd was gathered on the steps in the small courtyard outside the church’s office. Reverend Arthur Jenkins was immediately recognizable. He was a tall, thin, very nice-looking black man in his fifties. His dark hair was short and touched with a brushing of silver. He was clean-shaven. He wore a white short-sleeved shirt with black slacks and a black tie. The Reverend was surrounded by a small throng of five or six mostly gray-haired ladies. Even as we approached, his ready smile and warm laugh made it easy to see why he appeared so well loved by the women.
“And you’d do well to remember that, sister Evelyn!” we overhead him say to one of the ladies as we approached. He had a deep, soothing voice. Evelyn and all the other women laughed like schoolgirls on a playground, clearly enjoying their time with this charismatic man. We watched them chat for a few minutes as the group dispersed.
Reverend Jenkins ignored us until the last woman turned to leave, preferring to give her his undivided attention. Only when they said good-bye did he seem to notice us-although he’d surely seen us standing to the side, waiting.
“Reverend Jenkins,” I said, as I approached. “My name is Danny Logan.” I nodded to Toni. “This is my partner, Toni Blair. We were hoping to speak to you for a couple of minutes.”
He nodded. “Luella slipped me a note saying you’d be coming by,” he said, as he stepped forward and shook our hands. “What can I do for you two?”
“Sir,” I began, “we’re private investigators. Toni’s sister came to us with the story of a classmate of hers who ran away from home last month on her sixteenth birthday, apparently because she was having problems with her stepfather. We were touched by-well, frankly, by the tragedy of the story, so we agreed to look into it. We’ve since come to believe that as bad as her home life was, she may have now gotten herself into even worse trouble. We think she’s been recruited into what appears to be a gang involved with the prostitution of under-aged girls. We’re hoping to find her and get her out of there before it’s too late.”
He studied me intently for a moment. Then he said, “That’s a worthwhile endeavor, isn’t it. And you’re hoping I might be able to shed some light on the gang members for you?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir. That’s it exactly.”
“What do you hope to do if you find them?” he asked.
“Well, naturally, we want to rescue the young woman.”
He studied us for a moment, and then he nodded. “Good. I’ll be happy to do what I can,” he said.
“Thank you very much,” I said. “We appreciate it.”
“I’m not sure how much help I can be,” he said, “but I’ll do what I can. Let’s go inside, shall we?”
We followed him inside the office and classroom area of the church. He led us down a hall that was nearly completely covered with photos.
“The church has been here a long time, hasn’t it?” I asked, as I noticed a picture of Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. on the wall.
“It certainly has,” he said, pausing while I studied the photo. “The church is eighty years old next year. Of course, this isn’t the original building. The first building actually burned down in 1934. Then, we outgrew the next one in the seventies. We built this one in 1975.”
“Very impressive,” I said, turning to him. “How long have you been here?”
“Fifteen years this past April,” he said.
I smiled. “Well, judging by the mood of the prayer group that we saw, you appear to be doing a good job.”
He laughed. “Thank you. We have ourselves a good old time. I’ll let you in on a little secret: when you say ‘bible study’ to most people, they almost immediately form an image in their minds of a quiet, somber, studious-type group, all huddled up over their well-worn King James. Except for maybe a Benedictine monk, who’d want to act like that? So around here, we spice it up. We make it a little more human. Think about it. Who gave us our sense of humor?” Before we could answer, he continued. “It was the good Lord, of course. He made it so that we can laugh and have a good time. And we figure that since the Lord saw fit to give us a sense of humor-the ability to laugh and to be happy-why, then he must have wanted us to use it. So we decided to have some fun with our bible study group-lighten things up a bit.”
“Looks like it’s working,” I said. “Everyone seemed pretty happy outside there. Who knows-might even make me want to come to a meeting and check things out.”