Jillian Chantal

This week, here on Tuesday Tales, we’re all writing to a picture prompt. I chose the one I did as it fit into the story I’m on deadline on. I’ve taken a break from my thriller involving human trafficking as I have to get this Regency story done and cleaned up in a few weeks. The heroine in it has dressed as a man to take her father’s place in the army and this is part of the scene where she left home. (This is for a series of books based on legends and reimagined in the the Regency era. Mine is based on Mulan).

Be sure to check out the other tales and pictures here.

The fear of being found out and dragged back home in shame took half the day to abate.

Once she was sure her plan hadn’t been found out, she relaxed a little. She even stopped for a while to allow Khan to graze and have some water from a stream. Once she was sure she could keep down some food, she ate one of the scones Thomas had gotten for her from Cook.

The sun seemed to move faster in the sky this day. Almost before she knew it, it was close to setting. Now she had to think seriously about where to make camp.

Although she’d brought her saved pin money with her, she didn’t want to take a chance on staying at an inn. A man as small as she was would be memorable. If her father sent someone to find her, they would most assuredly check inns along the way to the coast.

Grateful she’d been able to find her father’s old campaign tent, she set about finding a spot to erect it.

“What do you think, Khan? Can we find a place with grass for you and water for us both?”

The horse neighed as if he understood her. She was sure he did. They’d always had a bond. From the moment her father bought him at Tattersall’s. Even though he wasn’t a racehorse, he was of good breeding and strong. His only fault to the men at the auction house was he was too slow for Ascot. Her father had gotten him for a good price and from the instant the animal arrived at the Somerset stables, she loved him.

The sun moved deeper into the horizon. She spurred Khan on. “It’ll soon be full dark. We must find a place I can defend if need be.”

This week’s word prompt for Tuesday Tales is cabinet. I am still working on the thriller with the human trafficking element.

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I was right about how much worse the stench would be inside. I’d smelled many a dead body in my time and I was sure there were few in this place. It broke my heart. These were children. Children who never even had a chance at a life. Even those who were still alive probably had seen so many things and been mistreated in so many ways they would never have a normal psyche. It made me furious. I wanted to hurt someone.
Settling for punching a wall, I didn’t even feel the pain nor notice the blood flowing from my fist until I saw droplets land on my khakis.
“Come in here and check this out,” Ben said.
I wanted nothing more than to sit beside some of these children and try to comfort them, but I needed to get hold of my temper first, so I walked past some pitiful little boys who were huddled on mattresses and watching us as if we were going to be the next to victimize them.
In a room at the far end of the house, there was a bed, a series of computers and video equipment. I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat. “Dear God, they’re making internet kiddie porn?” The words tasted bitter on my tongue.
“Looks like it.” Ben pulled out his radio and thumbed it on. “Dawn, call the local authorities and our contact at the FBI. We got kiddie porn. We also need social services for these children.”
I pulled some latex gloves on and moved to the closest cabinet. Looking for evidence that would take these demons down, I opened the door.
“Hang on, Kev. We need to leave that to the crime scene folks,” Ben said.
“I know, I know. I’m not going to taint anything. I’m merely seeing if there’s film in here that will nail these jerks to the wall.”
“Be careful. We don’t want to mess up any chances of conviction.”
Now he was just making me mad. Did he think I was some kind of rookie? I whirled around, determined to confront him but realized in time I was aching for a fight. And he was the wrong guy. He wasn’t who I was livid at. It was the monsters who would steal a child’s innocence for a few bucks.
The red of rage almost blinded me in the moment before I got hold of myself.
Chagrined, I smiled at Ben. “Sorry. I’m a little testy but this makes me crazy.”

This week’s word for the group of authors from Tuesday Tales is cozy. It’s kind of hard to use such a word in this human trafficking novel I’m writing but I did it. It amused me to try to figure a way to work it in. Hope you like what I did.

Check out the other tales here.

Ben looked at me. “How do you want to play this?”
“It seems deserted, but we can’t be sure. Since we can’t take Bozo back there with us as he’d be a distraction, I propose you stay here with him and keep an eye out. I’ll sneak around back and see if I can scope it out. If it’s safe, I’ll radio you.”
“I’ll send Dawn our GPS coordinates and have her come along with some of our people for backup. Don’t go in until they arrive. Even if it looks clear. Someone could be hiding out ready to blow your head off.”
I wasn’t making any promises, but I knew I’d be careful. I was kind of attached to my head. It was cozy and snug right where it was. On my neck, between my shoulders. And there it would stay if I had anything to say about it.
“Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing, Kev.”
“What?” Even to me, my voice sounded falsely sincere.
“You didn’t respond to my order not to go in.” He stared into my eyes with a hard look. “It is an order, by the way, but I see where your heart is. Just try to stay alive, man.”
With that tacit approval, I opened the door of the SUV and stepped out on the cracked and pot-holed parking lot. The thing was a danger in and of itself. I bet it hadn’t been maintained in forty years. Loose pieces of broken tarmac were scattered around.
Hoping I wouldn’t trip in one of the crater-sized holes and break my ankle, I moved as swiftly as I could to the side of the building closest to the edge of the woods. It seemed a safer place to start as there would be no traffic coming from that direction. Not that we’d seen any coming from the other way either. It was strangely still and silent. Almost as if the whole place held its breath.

This week on Tuesday Tales it’s a picture prompt week. We’ve each chosen one of the pictures on offer to us as our inspiration. I’m still working on my thriller and have picked up where the hero is going to check out another place where some victims of human trafficking could be held.

We are each limited to 300 words.  Check out the other tales here and see what picture they chose and how they used it.

He called out to one of the men, an impossibly skinny guy who had the longest legs I’d ever seen. “Lou.”
The guy walked over, his gait reminiscent of a stork. “Bennett Harris. Should’ve known you’d have a hand in this. You’re like a one-man army on human trafficking.”
“More than one man, Lou. I have a great group I work with.” Ben turned to me. “This is an old Army buddy I’m trying to recruit as part of my team. Kevin Vickrey meet Lou Dodson.”
I gave a little wave. “Lou.”
Lou nodded and then tilted his head to the back. “Who’s your pal?”
“Name’s O’Keefe. We’re going for a little ride. No worries. I’ll have him back before you process this scene.”
“Not if we find another scene,” I said.
“My optimistic friend,” Ben said to Lou.
“Want me to send some men with you?” Lou asked.
“I’ll call if we find anything. I’m hoping O’Keefe isn’t just looking for a joyride.” Ben revved the engine. “Best be on our way.”
Lou stepped back and we turned left out of the clearing.
For a while it seemed as if O’Keefe was merely leading us on a merry chase but eventually, we made our way down a street in a sketchy area of a small town. Near the end of a street back behind some abandoned railroad tracks, there was a derelict building that was kind of cool looking as it had the old logo on the bricks still visible. It seemed as if the place was empty. Old plywood was in the windows and white paint that appeared to be years old was daubed on the outer part. There were no lights on and it was eerily dark and silent.

I took a deep breath and held it. Would I find Shannon in there?

This week’s word for Tuesday Tales is angry. We are a group of writer’s who use the same word once a week to tell our different tales. I am still working on my thriller.

Check out the other tales here.

“What would it take for you to tell me where I might find some younger girls who are being turned to the life?”
“You some kind of perv?” She shot me a look that would’ve frozen a lesser man, but I ignored it.

I didn’t especially want to tell her about the girl I was seeking because I could tell she might use that information against me. She couldn’t know I had a special interest in any of the victims. I made up a story.

“I’m not a pervert. It so happens I have a younger sister who we lost to the life when she ran away from home, so I’ve made it a goal to save as many younger girls as I can.”

“What happened to her in your family to make her want to run away?” the woman asked.

Great. Now I was going to have to make up more of the story. This was why I hated to lie. It was part of the job on occasion but I’d always hated trying to remember the story. But I went on. “She was in love with some guy who convinced her to go with him to the big city and she believed his tale of them having a wonderful life.”

“So some dude just came to middle America and stole your sister?” She spat om the floor again. “That’s some load of crap there, mister. Just tell me the truth and I’ll see what I can do for you.”

Before I could respond, Bennett Harris returned. I heard him address me as he approached. “Come on, Kev. We have another lead. The locals are on their way and we’re riding out again.”

I stood and turned to face him. A tall man, with a shock of red hair and an angry scar that ran from his left eyebrow to the right side of his chin, stood beside him. In cuffs.
The man’s eyes were hard and I could see no real sign of humanity in them.

Bennett nodded. “Kevin Vickrey. I’d like you to meet Duncan O’Keefe, otherwise known as Scumbag Extraordinaire. He’s going to lead us to another hidey-hole.”

When the man didn’t respond, Ben side-kicked him in the shin. “Aren’t you?”

“I don’t want to.” O’Keefe practically snarled the words.

“All right, then. You can go with the rest to the county jail until the formal charges are brought and you’ll not get the good word I promised to pass along to the prosecutor for your assistance.”

I knew Ben was right to threaten the man with that. Almost all criminals will turn on their buddies for a recommendation for a lesser sentence. I hoped this O’Keefe was one of those guys.