Author retains all rights to this original work of fiction.
----------------------------------------------------------------

Friday June 8th, 9:28 AM, Phoenix, Arizona
When the room was cleared Carol asked, “You two know each other, right?”

“We meet at the Christmas party…,” Valerie offered.

“Yeah, and we’ve talked a few times around the office – last fire drill,” I replied.

“Good… So, you heard what Mike wants – update known details and to boost the traffic for this story. I’m not entirely sure why this is a hot button for him, but that’s beside the point,” Carol paused to consider her next words, “I think we know why Mike brought you in on this Cassidy.”

I managed to eke out a weak, “Yes…” I couldn’t decide whether that last statement was a dig or she was pissed about being micromanaged on this story.

“Alright… Well, you two divide and conquer. Going forward you two can decide your angles and division of work on this one. Valerie will add you to the byline. Questions,” Carol asked. When neither of us replied right away she stood, “I’ll get with Allen and let him know we’re borrowing you for a couple days Cassidy... Valerie, I want to review the updates by 11:30 and we’ll push it up the chain and get the story updated by noon…” Carol didn’t wait around for a reply and was out the open conference room door before I’d taken a second breath.

Friday June 8th, 9:31 AM, Phoenix, Arizona
"Well, that was awkward," I offered meekly.

"Yeah, with Lynn out this story got dumped on me. I thought what I had written was insightful and I reported the known facts of the abduction of Gabriella Estrada...," Valerie said with a little confidence, "I'm not sure what more I could have added..."

"I read both yours and Lynn's stories and they seemed on point. Curious this one has Mike's attention...," I replied not really thinking about whether I should be sharing that thought.

"I don't know why the increased interest... I mean, not that it's not a story that deserves any less attention or... You know what I mean...," she said backtracking her comment, maybe a little worried that I might be offended due to being, you know - a Trans Woman.

I considered my approach for a second and decided to just lay it all out, "Look, since we're going work this together - up front and all my cards on the table - it takes a bit of work to get me riled up about being Trans. Not that certain situations or triggers aren't out there, but I'm not a 'snowflake' by any stretch. Please, don't hold your tongue or walk on eggshells around me. If you say something that rubs me wrong, I'm going tell you straight up and politely. If it's really egregious I'll let you know and we’ll get to the root of the issue before moving on. I get I'm not the societal norm, but I promise I'm really no different from any of your girl friends or sister - if you have one. Can you live with that?"

Valerie looked relieved, "Oh God, Thank you... I don't know enough about being Trans or about all the LGBTQ issues, but I do care and... Well, I'm...," she looked like she was getting flustered, "I really appreciate your understanding of my ignorance...," she looked down at some papers in front of her.

"Just relax, we'll get through this and I promise it will all work out... So, how do we move this story up in the 'hits' and traction department?"

Friday June 8th, 11:44 AM, Phoenix, Arizona
This, this feeling I was experiencing right now, this is how I wanted to feel every day as a journalist. This was a real story I could get behind and maybe build an opportunity to branch out from my usual story assignments. I felt energized and nervous, but alive and anxious to dig into this story.

After Valerie and I had level set our working relationship and gotten past the first pangs of awkwardness, we divided assignments and my first task was to talk with the detective assigned to the Gabriella Estrada case. I knew through the grapevine that it would be next to impossible to get anyone on the phone at the police station, so the in-person approach was how I was going to get anything meaningful from the Phoenix police.

I checked in at the police stations front desk, filled out a form, got a visitors’ badge, and was led to what I guessed was an interrogation room to wait. Single table in the room with handcuff anchors, one-way mirrored window, and a camera in the corner on the ceiling. I assumed the camera was on, though there wasn’t an indicator light of…

A knock at the door made me jump, and as the door opened, I was trying to look calm and put together – I doubt I pulled that off…

“Ms. Ruiz, I’m detective Kovachev, how can I help you,” the man who had entered the room said.

He had a distinct accent, Eastern Bloc country I would guess, “Detective,” I opened a notebook and tried to guess how to spell his name. I could feel him watching me, he hadn’t sat, just stood at the chair across from me, “Can you spell your name for me, please?”

He moved a hand to his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and removed a business card, placing it on the table and sliding it towards me.

“Oh, perfect… Thank you,” I picked up the card read his name, ‘Detective Victor C. Kovachev’, then noticed a cellphone number, “Is it best to reach you via your cellphone,” I asked.

“Yes,” he paused, “You represent the Phoenix Post Intelligencer?”

“Yes…”

“No other affiliates?”

Interesting question, I wonder why he asked that, “No, just the Post Intelligencer. Are you concerned about media outlets contacting you?”

He thought about my question for a few seconds, “We try to control the number of sources we release information to…”

Okay, I'll buy that. It could be a full-time job having to wrangle the release of information and the need to keep some of the details out of the public domain. “Anything new with your investigation into the Gabriella Estrada case?”

He was staring at me, “I’m interviewing Ms. Estrada shortly… Do you speak Spanish?”

“I do…,” I wondered why he asked me that, was it because I was obviously Hispanic?

“Would you like to assist me with the interview? The hospital can be hit and miss with translators. You would not be able to use everything you hear during the interview, but you would be closer to her story than any other media outlet.”

Oh crap! YES! Yes, I would like to assist! I tried to maintain my composure, “How would this work? We go to the hospital, I ask her your questions, relay the answers, then get permission to publish the content of my story once I’ve written it,” I asked.

“Exactly like that, though you’ll work with our PIO officer about the facts you’re allowed to use.”

Wow, this was turning out to be a worthwhile meeting. “I can live with that… When do we meet with her?”

“If you’re free we could head over there now. I can drive and return you to the station or the Post Intelligencer…”

Friday June 8th, 12:39 PM, Phoenix, Arizona
It took twenty minutes for Kovachev to get whatever he needed wrapped up at the station done before we headed to the hospital. I texted Valerie while waiting and she was excited about our ‘in’ with the police. She also said the story had been updated on the site – which I skimmed on my phone because I had nothing else to do while waiting for the detective. The wait didn’t dampen my excitement, but I was aching to get this show rolling!

Once in Kovachev’s car, a standard issue unmarked police vehicle, the conversation between us was hit and miss. I pressed for details Mike had said the Times had reported and Kovachev confirmed everything to be accurate. When I'd exhausted my questions about the assaults, I took a stab at his feelings about the defunding of the police. Off topic, but I had plans to put something together on my own and shop the story, if my work on the assaults got positive results. Beyond just a story idea, I was genuinely curious about how he felt about the defunding - he didn’t disappoint and I appreciated his frankness, though not really surprised by his stance. It felt like he had more to say, but he stopped talking once we were parked and headed to the administration offices.

Once checked in, we waited at least twenty minutes to get a doctor to clear giving us access to Gabriella. Kovachev didn't look like he wanted to talk, so we sat waiting in silence. When we got the green light to go see her Kovachev stopped just outside her room’s doorway, “Here is a list of questions,” he handed the single sheet of paper to me and I looked them over quickly - I wished he'd have given these to me on the drive over or while we waited so we could have discussed them... Augh!

When it looked like I had finished skimming the list he continued, “Ask a question, translate her reply exactly as she states. I’ll be recording the interview, but her answers may spawn additional questions I might have. Do you have any questions about how I expect this interview to proceed?”

“No… Am I free to ask her questions of my own?”

“Ask me first, but it will be likely you can ask her your questions,” he replied, turned, and entered the room.

I followed after Kovachev, Gabriella was in bed, hooked up to monitoring machines, an oxygen hose at her nose, and two IV-bags – one plugged into her arm and the other in the back of her right hand. She had bruising on her left cheek that couldn't decide whether to be yellowish purple or deep purple and blue. Her lip was swollen on the left side and there were a few bruises on her arms as well as her wrists - likely from her struggling with her assailant. She had certainly been roughed up, I hoped it wasn't worse...

Kovachev touched Gabriella’s hand and her head moved slowly toward us, “Talk to her please…,” he said softly.

I moved to the opposite side of the bed, looked at Kovachev, then at Gabriella… I cleared my throat, she looked at me and began to cry. Shit, “No, no… It’s alright Gabriella…,” I spoke gently in Spanish.

“Do not make any promises, we need answers and leads. Just ask the questions…,” Kovachev said soothingly as if to not tip Gabriella over any further.

That was a little cold. You really are clueless on the dangers we face you asshole. Focus, I can enlighten him after the interview. I sucked in a heavy breath and exhaled slowly, taking her hand in mine. I started by telling her who we were and what we were here for. Kovachev showed his badge when I said 'policia' and I explained that I was a reporter there to assist him with questioning because he did not speak Spanish. She nodded slightly as if to say she understood. She didn't appear to be in pain, likely one of these drips in her arm was for pain.

I looked at the list of questions, but before I could ask the first one, she croaked, “He does not understand us?”

I smiled, “I’m sure he understands some words, but he says he does not speak Spanish…”

She turned to look at him, Kovachev looked at me, “What is she saying,” he asked.

“She asked if you speak Spanish...”

“I can say beer, bathroom, and I know how to count to ten…,” he said looking down at Gabriella. He pulled a digital recorder from his pocket and placed it on the bed.

She looked at it and shook her head and whispered, “I will not speak if he is recording…”

“Put the recorder away, she says she will not speak to us if you’re going to record her…”

He looked from me to Gabriella, picked up the recorder, clicked it off, and put it back in his pocket. “Ask her my questions, please…,” he said trying to smile, but certainly not happy that he could not record the interview.

I squeezed her hand lightly, “Do you know where you are?”

She looked confused by the question and replied, “Hospital…”

I smiled, “Yes, but do you know what city you are in?”

She hesitated, “Is this Phoenix?”

I nodded, “You are in Phoenix. When did you get here?”

“Can I speak without fear of being sent back to Mexico?”

I translated that for Kovachev, “She won’t be sent back to Mexico…,” he hesitated a second, “I can’t promise her that, but there are enough resources that will be made available to her after what has happened to her that it is unlikely, they will deport her.”

I relayed that to her, she said softly, “I cannot go back to Mexico…”

“I understand, he’s saying you won’t be deported. When did you cross the border?” It was Kovachev’s third question, but I figured it fit in better in the flow of things than his second question, which was whether she knew who did this to her.

“The sixth… What day is it?”

“Today is the eighth…”

She looked at me trying to gauge her next question, “How long?”

“Well, I’m not sure, but you were admitted yesterday, early morning… So, it hasn’t been but a day and a half here in the hospital...” I know I sounded confused, but I wasn’t sure what she was asking. Maybe she wanted to know how long she’d be out of it?

She shook her head slowly, winced, and set her eyes on me, “No, how long for you?”

Oh… Well, hello dysphoria my old friend! Haven’t talked to you in like a couple minutes. Augh! She could tell I was Trans; did she think my being here was planned? Had Kovachev invited me to assist because I was Trans? Whatever, it is what it is I guess, “About five years…” She was watching me, and I wondered what she really had on her mind. She had an air of quiet intelligence about her which made me wonder about how she got mixed up in this. Kovachev tilted his head, and I took that to mean he wanted to know what was said, so I told him, dumping a little more in the dysphoria bucket. Thanks for that you two.

“Ask his questions before he wonders about my willingness to cooperate…,” Gabriella said when Kovachev had looked as though he was up to speed on what had just transpired between us.

Interesting… She realizes there are pieces in play and knows there are processes being adhered to by Kovachev and the system. Did she not want to appear as a hostile witness or victim for fear of being sent back to Mexico? She was playing along - but aware, processing the context of the interview. Based on what she’d just said I was sure Gabriella was educated and more worldly wise than your typical immigrant trying to escape to this country.

“The detective was hoping that maybe you might remember some things that happened to you, even the smallest of details,” I explained, “Do you know who abducted you?” I pointed to the question for Kovachev, he nodded.

“I will handle part of that…,” she said.

“I don't understand, you do know who did this to you?”

“Tell him I don’t know,” she turned slowly to looked at Kovachev, “No se...” (I don’t know)

“She says she doesn’t know who did this to her…,” I relayed, but inside I was worried about her knowing who did this to her. What did she mean by 'handle'?

He nodded, “Are you concerned with that answer?”

Huh, concerned? Not if she’s going to track this fucker down and ruin their day – then no. I shrugged at him, looked back at her, “Can you tell us where you’ve been since entering the country?” That was his fourth question.

“A place called Gila Bend for food and a house…," she paused to think about that, "They said it was in Buckeye. I don’t remember much, but I remember being in an old hotel room somewhere remote, the road was very rough with many holes, I don’t know where... I don’t recall how far from the house in Buckeye, but I remember being in a car shortly after dinner on the sixth…”

“Why do you think the hotel was old?”

She thought about that question before answering, “The smell... Graffiti on the walls... It was a big building and looked to have many rooms. A dog was barking all the time outside somewhere...”

Okay, probably stale or whatever, “The detective says you were drugged…”

“I am sure I was…,” she said quietly.

“Do you remember much else? Can you describe any of the persons who did this to you?”

“I was very out of it; my mind and body were paralyzed... I couldn't...,” she stopped for a moment and began to cry.

I took her hand again, then looked at Kovachev, “She crossed the border, went through Gila Bend and then to a house in Buckeye. She says she doesn’t remember anything other than being taken somewhere, an old hotel possibly, somewhere remote and over rough road. It smelled, had graffiti on the walls - so someplace abandoned I'm guessing. She can’t describe her assailant.”

“Did you tell her about being drugged?”

“She knows…,” I replied squeezing Gabriella's hand.

“Does she know it was GHB?”

“I doubt that… What would that matter,” I asked.

“Wouldn’t matter... She wouldn’t have known it was administered; it could help with any guilt feelings she might have…”

“Guilt? You think she feels like she deserved this and being drugged is her get out of guilt free ticket,” I asked a little more gruffly than intended. Gabriella looked at me as though she was trying to understand the conversation I was having in English with Kovachev.

“That is not what I am saying, but whatever she walked into may have already been set up to exploit her. It usually is when these kids cross the border and get mixed up with the wrong people…”

I felt Gabriella squeeze my hand, “What is he saying?”

Kovachev looked at me, “She is asking what we’re talking about…,” I said.

“Next question…,” he chided.

“Are…,” I began in Spanish, paused to look at him, pointing to the question, “You want me to ask this question,” I asked in English.

He nodded.

“Are you a sex worker,” I asked her in Spanish.

She turned to look at Kovachev, “No…”

“You did not do this kind of thing from where you came from?” That was the next question on his list and I was kicking myself for not reordering them before this began.

She was still looking at Kovachev, “No…”

“She wasn’t a sex worker prior to coming here,” I relayed, even though I had pointed to the question I had just asked her. He nodded for me to continue.

I didn’t want to ask, but it was Kovachev’s script and pushed on, “You said your name is Gabriella Estrada… There wasn’t any ID found in your backpack and the fingerprints they took do not tell us who you were before your transition. There is no record of you having lived in Mexico; you came from and lived in Mexico, correct?” I noticed the word ‘backpack’ had caught her attention - had Kovachev?

She looked around the room, “Is my backpack here?”

“Yes, I think so… Is that it,” I said pointing toward the sink area.

She seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, then answered the question, “There would be no record of me with any government agency, I have never been in trouble… I came from and lived in Mexico before crossing your border.”

“I think they want to know who you were before your transition…,” I said tentatively.

“That is not something I will share…”

I looked at Kovachev, “She said she’s never been in any legal trouble and will not share who she was prior to her transition… She came from and lived in Mexico.”

“Continue…,” he said dryly.

I asked the rest of his questions, which produced vague answers or that she didn’t remember. She did say she was eighteen, which was younger than I had originally thought, but maybe that made sense with some of her answers. She looked to be early on in her transition, I wondered how long she had been transitioning.

Kovachev seemed to listen to the exchanges, but something was up with him, I could feel it. He asked if I had any questions I wanted to ask.

I looked at him and decided to cut him out of the conversation. Do and ask for forgiveness after the fact, that's how I was going to roll. "You are not the only woman this has been done to Gabriella," I paused because there was no easy way to get to where I was going, "In just under two weeks you've become the third Trans woman to be assaulted in the Phoenix area. Each came from Mexico. Can you can remember any details, something spoken or some act or pattern of behavior? Anything could help lead them quicker to who did this possibly..."

Kovachev was looking at me concerned but remained silent.

Gabriella locked eyes with me, "I do not remember anything like that... I was," she struggled to continue, "I... He posed me for his cameras. I do not... What happened to me...," she stopped speaking to sob silently.

I squeezed her hand gently, then decided to bend close and hug her, "I'm so sorry... This is not your fault," I whispered.

When I finished hugging her, I could see Kovachev was not happy with me, "I asked if she remembered any details of the assault, some common trait. She said she was filmed..."

"You should have cleared that line of questioning with me first... There is more to information gathering, and victim considerations should not to be trampled," he said coldly, clearly annoyed.

"I understand that, but in our community these kinds of things end with the victim damaged much worse - like dead. You know that, you know this makes these three cases highly unusual," I paused because I was trying to maintain my cool in front of Gabriella, "I'm done here, are you?"

Kovachev nodded.

Gabriella must have sensed the interview was coming to an end and asked, “Would he allow us to speak privately?”

I looked at Kovachev, “Would you mind waiting outside? She asked if we could speak privately...”

He paused, “I will allow that. Consider what has happened to Ms. Estrada, she needs to work what happened to her out with professionals... Tread carefully."

Gabriella moved her hand towards his, he held it briefly, smiled, and looked at me, "We will talk about this private exchange – understand?” I nodded and he continued, “Tell her I’m sorry this happened to her and that we will do our best to find the person or persons who did this to her…”

I did as he had asked and without another word, he left the room.

When we were alone, she said in perfect English, “He understands more than he admits…”

Oh, shit! Well, aren't you just full of surprises! “You speak English? Why hide that?”

"I don't need to be asked ridiculous questions I don't have the answers to by someone I do not trust..."

"Why do you think he understands more than he's letting on?"

“I don’t know, I just think he knew what we were saying. I think he speaks Spanish better than he told you. You are a Trans woman, he used you to get information from me... I do not trust him.”

Shit... She was probably right about Kovachev using me, I suddenly felt stupid for having trusted Kovachev so blindly. It would be kind of shitty of him to use me like that and fake not speaking Spanish. “I think he just wants to help…,” I said finally, but deep inside I knew I'd been played.

“I’m sure... That is his job. Can you bring me my backpack, please?”

I picked it up from where it sat next to the sink in the room and gave it to her. One shoulder strap was attached at a single point as if it had been torn off in a struggle. The backpack felt empty, which would probably not come as a surprise to her. I watched her expression as she examined the backpack, looking inside of it, then running a finger along the one strap that was still intact. She looked relieved, which was odd since the thing was clearly empty.

“I need to get out of here, can you help me?”

Shit… That wasn’t what I was expecting her to say. “I really can’t… I mean, the police are going to need to get to the bottom of this and they really need your help,” I replied, but felt like I was complaining about my inability to assist.

“I wasn’t the only one they had at the hotel…,” she said softly.

“What? There was another woman being held?”

“Yes, there was one other woman like us at the hotel… She was younger, I think. He,” her voice broke, “Was filming us... Together and taking...," she tried to hold back the flood of emotions and began to cry.

I bent over her and hugged her, then got a box of tissue from the sink area, "We need to tell the detective this... Was there anyone else?"

It took a full minute for her to compose herself enough to continue, "There were three men...," she paused to consider her next statement, "I know more about this place, but I am not talking to the detective. Help me get out of here and I will tell you what I know..."

Fuck me!

Friday June 8th, 1:22 PM, Phoenix, Arizona
When I exited Gabriella's room, Kovachev was standing at the nurses' station. He finished speaking with the nurse and made his way over to me, "What did she say?"

I had to give this guy props, he wasn't hung up on Gabriella or myself being Trans. Not once did he misgender her or act as though she wasn't worthy of compassion, respect, or his help. But now, now I was at a crossroads and what I did or didn’t do to help her was going to be a problem. If I am truthful, I won’t be tripped up by a lie. Then again if I’m truthful I betray her trust. Would he understand? Would she? “She wants me to help her get out of here…,” I said waiting for an adverse reaction on his part.

“Why would she ask you this?”

Augh… “She said she was not the only Trans Woman being held…”

He thought about that a moment, “Why not tell us that?”

"I'm really not sure... She said they were filmed and that there were three men. Was she sexually assaulted," I asked.

“Another victim,” he sighed, “This is not good…,” he looked back to the nurse’s station, “No, the nurse confirmed she was not raped, but that does not mean there wasn't any sexual encounter. The other two victims reported there were two and three men involved. The abandoned hotel, this is new information for this case. Her not being raped is also different from the other two victims. Why do you think she asked you for help getting out of here," he asked.

“I’m not sure… But she suspects your motives to involve me in the interview and is sure you speak Spanish better than you let on.”

Kovachev’s face did not show any reaction to my accusation. In perfect Spanish he replied, “I speak four languages fluently and two others I can get by in most social or official conversations. I asked for your help because I thought she would be able to relate to you and you could gain her trust. I’m sorry I did not tell you…”

Fucking asshole! I was angry, but not surprised. “Not really a way to garner trust – from either of us,” I huffed.

“Correct, but let’s not lose sight of the problem at hand…”

I interrupted him, “Which is?”

“Gabriella is the third woman abducted in the past two weeks and released. She says there was another Trans Woman at the hotel, so we have a soon to be fourth victim. All the victims we know of so far all crossed the border and shortly afterwards ended up being assaulted. The first two, Solis and Morena, admitted to being sex workers. Gabriella claims she wasn’t a sex worker, so how does she fit with the first two victims? Why no sexual assault?”

This guy didn’t have a clue about the dangers of being Trans. I wanted to ask him if he knew about the rise in assaults and murders in our community? Kovachev looked like he was pondering something. His silence was annoying me, so I volunteered, “She said she would help me find the hotel; I don’t know how though…”

He snapped back to the present and looked at me for a long moment, “You don’t think she was part of this?”

“You’re kidding right? She’s an innocent and the fuckers who abducted her are sick bastards…,” I barked louder than intended. The two nurses looked up from the nurse’s station at me, I looked away. Did he really think she was part of these assaults or some fucked up sex ring?

“Both the other women mentioned being sought out while in Mexico and then being brought here with promises of lavish lives and lots of money. That isn’t what happened to them because they ran into 'sick bastards'. Do you think she was recruited,” he asked.

I hadn’t asked her that because no one knew that the other two women had been recruited. The police were holding a lot of facts from the public, so this case had to have more scope than present on the surface. I felt in my heart Gabriella wasn’t recruited, she was running from something, “I don’t think she was recruited… Why didn't you release that the other women were recruited for the sex trade?”

"We are investigating these cases from multiple directions. Mexican police, Border Patrol, FBI, and US Marshal Service. Last month a similar string of abductions and assaults occurred in El Paso. All the victims were illegals. It was decided to hold certain details from the public for now,” he stopped speaking as a nurse walked by us, “I agree with you, I think she came here to escape something, possibly her family, possibly something else…”

Whoa! This shit happened in Texas? Where's the effort been at stopping this crap?! Why haven’t you asked me about her asking for my help to get her out of this place? Bigger yet, why did it seem that Gabriella’s case was so different? Oh, and you know she said she would 'handle' these fuckers - that could blow up in everyone's face.

When it was obvious, I had nothing to contribute Kovachev asked, “If you were to help her, how would you go about that?”

Was this guy in my head? I was shocked he’d even consider that option. It really was the million-dollar question though, and one I hadn’t even decided whether I could help her with. “I'm not... I don't think she should just pick up and blow out of here. I'm really not comfortable with the idea of breaking her out of here and tracking down these assholes... Didn't you say there were resources available for her?”

"You were in the military," he asked, ignoring my question.

“And how did you know that," I asked taken aback.

“The paperwork you filled out for the visitor pass at the station; it says we may do a background check…”

So much for reading the fine print before signing. I was a little miffed that I hadn’t paid more attention to what I was signing, “Yes, I served. Did you?”

He thought about that for a moment, “Yes, but for a different country.”

“Which?”

“I was an intelligence officer many years ago in Chechnya. I worked my way into an immigration opportunity when I was twenty-six,” he replied with a smirk.

“Do you still have family there?”

“I do have a few family ties in that region," he said solemnly, the smirk gone.

"What do you mean by you worked your way into?"

"That is a long story for another time.”

Well, that tells me nothing, but my guess is he defected or something like that. “How old are you now?”

“I’m forty-eight,” he said, smiling because the shock on my face showed – he looked much younger, my age, late thirties at most. “Your leg,” he nodded, “Afghanistan?”

Really? What don’t you know about me? I nodded, I’m sure the frustration on my face spoke volumes.

“It is only logical. At the time of your military discharge that was really the only active conflict out there. You favor your right leg when you walk, barely perceptible. And your right shoe shows uneven wear at the heel,” he said pointing as if he were casually commenting about the weather.

Lovely… He knows more about me than he should and I’ve got nothing on him to hit back with because I was pissed and I wanted to hit him back with something! I was especially annoyed he noticed my gait, the wear on my shoe, and his ‘barely perceptible’ comment - did he think I needed that? I’d worked hard over the past six years to get to where I was today and had thought short of the four-inch scar on my right knee people wouldn’t notice any favoring of my right leg. I walked fine, could run… It wasn't like I had an artificial limb! Asshole…

“The nurses shift change is at 4 PM, and visiting hours end at 8 PM. An exit,” he pointed back towards Gabriella’s room, “Is right there, three flights of stairs and you would be near the main lobby entrance. The nurses told me her injuries will take a week to heal, but her health is not in any jeopardy. She just needs time. What is your phone number,” he asked pulling out his phone.

Not thinking I rattled it off for him as he tapped it into his phone.

“When you figure out what you’re doing, text me...,” he looked at me as if inspecting every strand of unruly hair on my head, "I'll leave you here, unless you want a ride back to the station or The Post..."

Seriously? Did he really wanted me to help her get out of here? What about her handling the person or persons who did this to her?

When I didn't answer he said, "Don't let her do anything stupid..."

I nodded that I understood, but truth was I had no idea how I was going to help Gabriella or if I could prevent her from doing anything stupid. How was I going to navigate this shit?

Friday June 8th, 1:39 PM, Phoenix, Arizona
I watched Kovachev walk away and when he'd entered the elevator, I went back to Gabriella’s room. A nurse was taking her vitals, and looked over at me, “I’m assisting the police, just a few more questions before I leave…,” I squeaked nervously.

“Sure…,” she said after finishing up and typing something into the hospitals record system, "We're going to get her up walking after you're done. Her body needs to move, it'll help her heal quicker."

I nodded and waited for her to finish. When she exited the room Gabriella spoke first, “The detective will allow you to help?”

I nodded. She had a fifty-fifty chance of knowing whether I would tell Kovachev about her request. She must have sensed I would, “You may not realize this, but there is something bigger happening here than what happened to you…”

"That is not my concern, I need to get out of here, out of Phoenix."

I had to think about her statement a moment. She was eighteen, alone, and had nothing to her name. I should cut her some slack, right? I couldn't help myself, "Whether that is a concern or not, what happened to you has happened to three other Trans Women locally and last month the detective said this same thing was happening in Texas. It needs to stop. You have to know these things don't usually end the way they did for you. Those other women all endured much worse. If you can help the police," I paused because I felt as though I was preaching, "You should..."

"Do not mistake caring for concern. I care, but I have other," she looked toward the door as a cart went past, "Pressures I need to manage. I am well aware of the deaths for women like us... I did not expect to be spared."

Whoa, she speaks as though she's twice her age, worldly! "Why do you need to get out of Phoenix," I asked.

I could see she was thinking about how to answer that question, "I have no fears now that I am in this country, but my past will want to bring me back home. I can't go back..."

"Why?"

"It is a family issue. You are Latina, do you have a relationship with your family?"

"My sister still talks to me... My parents, that's a long story," I said feeling the weight of sharing that.

"I have the same issues with my parents and it is a complicated story...," she smiled a little as if this was another similarity in our paths, "When can we leave?"

That million-dollar question hadn't gotten any cheaper over the bunch of minutes spent with Kovachev in the hallway, "Do you have any clothes?"

"I... I was not dressed when the police found...," her voice trailed off.

"The other two women had said the same thing." Kovachev had offered that nugget when I asked about how and where Gabriella was found.

She nodded that she understood.

"Okay, so we need some clothes. I could go get some things for you to wear, return around dinner time, ask if I can escort you to the cafeteria to eat, get you into a bathroom, you change, and we walk out of here..."

"I will repay your kindness Cassidy..."

"Cass... Cassidy is what my," I hesitated, "My mom would call me if we..."

Gabriella interrupted me, "It may happen one day, you cannot lose hope. Thank you, Cass. Thank you for helping me."

“I don’t have much of plan beyond getting you out of here, but if I help you – we are going to find that hotel and the other woman before you can leave Phoenix. Give me your word, promise me that, and I will help you…”

“I promise…”

She was slow to offer that promise, which was a little concerning, but I felt things had already been set in motion and I couldn't change the flow anyway. This was now more than a story and the chances it would break me were just beginning to weigh on me… We discussed clothes and shoes, what sizes for both she would need, and her preferences. When that was done, she had one last request - a pre-paid cell phone with the ability to call Mexico. I didn't ask, but if she didn't want to return to Mexico, why would she need to talk with someone there?

----------------------------------------------------------------

Authors Note: Don't be afraid to "Like" this story if it's doing anything for you (you don't have to have an account to do so and there are no prizes for most likes). If you comment – I will likely reply – so let’s chat…

If there are problems or you have criticism you'd like to share privately feel free to message me on the site or via email ([email protected]) - I'd love to address them if I can.

I'm trying to grow as a story teller, I'm far from perfect, so any help is much appreciated. Thanks for reading...