Suburban Dangers Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Psalm 51

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  Author’s Note

  Thank you…

  You Can Help!

  God Can Help!

  Free Book Offer

  Suburban Dangers

  Megan Whitson Lee

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Suburban Dangers

  COPYRIGHT 2017 by Megan Whitson Lee

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Pelican Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  eBook editions are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. eBooks may not be re-sold, copied or given to other people. If you would like to share an eBook edition, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version(R), NIV(R), Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com

  Cover Art by Nicola Martinez

  Watershed Books, a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC

  www.pelicanbookgroup.com PO Box 1738 *Aztec, NM * 87410

  Watershed Books praise and splash logo is a trademark of Pelican Ventures, LLC

  Publishing History

  First Watershed Edition, 2017

  Paperback Edition ISBN 9781611168945

  Electronic Edition ISBN 9781611168921

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To Stephen, who always believed in me and in our marriage. I thank God for you every day.

  Acknowledgements

  The horror and enslavement of sex trafficking and its counterpart, pornography, has long burdened my heart. Prostitution in all of its forms is not a victimless crime, despite what society says.

  I am thankful to all who have helped with the formation of this novel. This was not an easy one to write. In many ways, it was harder than my first novel, Captives, which was about the same subject. So much has changed within the public schools, technology, and trafficking practices, that I really needed as much input as possible.

  To Alycia Morales who read my original manuscript and made so many great suggestions to help me improve the scope and focus, I am so grateful.

  To Officer Brad Wrobel and Onzlow Williamson for lending their time to discuss their roles as Security Resource Officer and School Security Guard, respectively, and for giving me an honest idea of the day-to-day experiences and difficulties of “policing” and interacting with kids in a school environment. I know I’ve had to take some liberties for the sake of the story, but I hope I have at least honored the hard jobs you both have.

  To readers of my first draft: Deborah Harris, Cheryl Breeding, Bethany Harar, Debra Metzler, and Misha Chernov. Your comments on my very rough draft guided so much of what it became. Thanks for letting me know what was interesting and what wasn’t.

  To everyone at Pelican Book Group. I am so honored to be a part of this team. Thank you, Nicola Martinez, for understanding the importance of this subject and for creating such a fabulous cover. Thank you, M. Jamie West, for your stellar editing. There is a lot of intuition, wisdom, and talent in this group.

  To Lisa Thompson, for always being my touchstone and cutting edge information on this tough subject matter. You work in the trenches every day and see the worst of the worst. I pray for this story to be an homage to the women who have come through these horrible experiences.

  To my family, for always supporting me and standing with me through this quest to write tough, gritty, sometimes dark topics. You guys have always been my biggest fans and my cheerleaders.

  To my husband, Stephen, for always encouraging and motivating me. You’ve cheered with me in my victories and grieved with me in my losses. Your support and love means the world to me.

  Finally, to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I write stories about and for those who need You in their lives. Thank You for allowing me the honor to serve You.

  Have mercy on me, O God,

  according to your unfailing love;

  according to your great compassion

  blot out my transgressions.

  Wash away all my iniquity

  and cleanse me from my sin.

  ~Psalm 51: 1-2

  1

  Kaki

  Tuesday, September 15

  Kaki was sixteen when she met Sydney Diaz.

  The school year had just started, and Sydney was new to Runnymede Secondary. With her long, straight, black hair that hung down to her waist and a lot of piercings, Sydney was one of those girls who stood out. She was in Kaki’s algebra and gym class, but right away Kaki could tell Sydney didn’t want to be in school. Her face was tight and hard, and she put her feet up on the desk until the teacher told her to take them off.

  In gym, Kaki was flattered when Sydney started talking to her. They stood out by the track, waiting their turn to run. Kaki stretched, pulling her ankles behind her. She liked running. She was thin and willowy with long legs that carried her along with speed and agility. “Granddaddy-Long-Legs” her father used to call her. She’d hated that. It made her feel as if her legs were too long, too thin. Weird-looking, somehow.

  Sydney looked as if she could be pretty fast, too, but she was just leaning up against the chain-link fence with a slack-faced and bored expression. Kaki could almost envision her with a cigarette in hand, blowing smoke into the autumn haze—if they’d been allowed to do that.

  “So like, what do people do around here?” Sydney stared off at the other runners circling the track.

  Because Kaki was surprised that this interesting, probably super-cool girl was talking to her, she did a double-take to make sure she was the one being addressed. She didn’t really have a lot of friends. On those ridiculous surveys that the school made them take every year—the ones that asked questions like: How would you describe yourself?—she always answered the same. Shy. I like to read, run track, and sometimes hang out with the girls on the track team. But she couldn’t really say she was great friends with any of those kids. Kaki looked at Sydney and shrugged. She couldn’t think of how to answer her. “Um…I don’t know.”

  “I mean, like, what’s fun to do around here? It seems like this school’s pretty lame.”

  Kaki laughed out of politeness. “I guess it depends on what you think is fun. Everyone around here does the normal kind of stuff.”

  Sydney yawned, bending her leg back to brace herself against the chain-link. “What do you like to do?”

  Kaki’s face warmed. People didn’t usually ask her that. “I don’t know. I’m kind of boring, I guess. I run
track, and, well, that’s about it, really.”

  “Girls, you’re up!” At the sound of Coach Plant’s voice, they moved toward the starting line.

  Sydney pushed herself off the fence as though it took an enormous amount of effort and stood beside her at the line.

  “Go!” the coach called as he clicked his stopwatch. They began to jog. Sydney was much slower, and she kept motioning with her hand for Kaki to hang back. Finally, Kaki slowed her pace as much as she could.

  “You got a job?” she asked, already starting to pant a little, even though she was barely running.

  “No,” Kaki said. “I just turned sixteen.” She didn’t know anyone who had a job.

  “So? I know a lot of sixteen-year-olds who make a lot of money.”

  “Really? Doing what?”

  Sydney pointed her thumb at herself. “Like me—I mean, I’m sixteen, but with what I’m doing now, I’m making so much money, I’ll be able to retire by the age of twenty-two.”

  Kaki wondered if she was lying. Sometimes kids just said stuff to seem cool. She focused on the finish line ahead. “Wow. That’s amazing. What are you doing to make so much money?”

  Sydney looked over, and Kaki got the feeling Sydney was trying to read her—trying to see if she could trust her.

  “I don’t know if I should tell you right now.”

  “OK.” It didn’t really matter to her whether Sydney told her or not. If she was selling drugs or something, Kaki didn’t want to know anyway.

  “Maybe later.”

  As they crossed the finish line, Coach Plant said, “That’s the slowest I’ve ever seen you run, Kaki. What’s going on with you today? Let’s pick up the pace!”

  ~*~

  At home that night while Kaki checked her social media sites, she was surprised to see that Sydney had followed her. @HotSydGirl was Sydney’s handle, but Kaki immediately recognized Sydney’s picture—a close-up shot of her posing for the camera with puckered lips. Later, Sydney’s picture and name popped up on another one of Kaki’s accounts. Sydney Diaz has just followed you.

  Kaki was excited. She’d figured Sydney would think she was a total loser after their conversation on the track. “Maybe I’m just one of the only people she knows at school,” she said out loud as she clicked to confirm. She scanned Sydney’s page for her statuses, pictures, and people she knew. Sydney had over 2,000 followers on one account and over a thousand on her other accounts.

  Inferiority crept over Kaki. She only had around 160 followers, and most of those were family members, distant cousins, and a few friends. Her other social networking accounts were just as pathetic, and she wondered how it felt to be someone like Sydney Diaz—obviously popular, especially with the guys. Most of the posts to her page were messages from them:

  hey syd. where u been girl?

  heard you moved schools. Ill still c u this weekend rite?

  got some peeps for u to meet.

  There were a lot of posted selfies from guys and a few girls dressed up in short-short skirts, high-high heels, and tight-tight tops. Sydney definitely moved in different social circles.

  Pictures on Kaki’s page were of friends making faces in the camera, a few family photos, and a lot of shared dorky sayings: Only you can make it happen and Just because someone doesn’t like you doesn’t mean you’re not likeable. Kaki felt too intimated to even send Sydney a private message. And she resolved not to be clingy at school either. The quickest way to drive a cool girl away from you was to be too needy.

  But over the next few weeks, Sydney hung out with her as though they’d been friends forever. That was when she was in school. Sydney was absent a lot, and Kaki could tell she had a lot of boyfriends, both inside and outside of school.

  ~*~

  “How did you get kicked out of your old school?” Kaki asked Sydney one day in the cafeteria.

  “One of the guys I was dating asked me to, like, hold some weed for him. I mean, like, it wasn’t even mine. Anyway, someone ratted, and the next thing I knew security guards were doing the big shake-down on me. So I got expelled ’cause it was like the third time I’d gotten caught with something. And I had a lot of money on me, so they figured I was selling it.”

  “Were you?”

  “Nah. I already had that money.”

  The noisy cafeteria was usually where Sydney relayed the details of her social media life and the guys she met there. Often the story involved the guy spending a lot of money on her. Sydney seemed to love that. She always had a story, and Kaki was a willing listener, although sometimes she felt more like a fan or a follower than a friend.

  “So there was this guy I met last night at the club. You would have loved him. He was exactly your type.” Sydney crumpled up her napkin and threw it down the length of the table where it bounced off of someone else’s tray.

  Her type. Did she have a type? If so, what was it? She’d only looked at boys in her classes with a safely removed longing. The idea of approaching them or talking to them was terrifying.

  “We were out all night. I got home at like three this morning,” Sydney said.

  Kaki noticed Sydney’s slightly smeared makeup. She’d probably slept in it, if she’d slept at all. “What about your parents? Don’t they care you were out all night?” As busy and self-absorbed as her own parents were, they would not be OK with her staying out all night.

  Sydney’s face darkened. That was the best way Kaki could describe it. She’d read that line in a book once, but she’d never really understood its meaning until then.

  “It’s just me and my mom. And her boyfriends.”

  “Boyfriends? Like…multiple ones?” Kaki laughed.

  “Yeah, they come and go.”

  “So, you’re kind of like her.” Kaki meant it innocently enough, but Sydney turned on her with the quickest mood swing she’d ever seen.

  “I’m nothing like her. Nothing. Nothing. You understand? Guys never get something for nothing from me. Not like my mom…”

  “OK.” Kaki raised her eyebrows and turned away. Wow. That wasn’t the reaction she had expected. Sydney looked as if she could sprout fangs.

  The bell rang and everyone began filing out of the cafeteria.

  But Kaki could only focus on how she’d offended Sydney. Sydney would probably unfriend her or something.

  In algebra class later that day, as if nothing had happened, Sydney held up her phone, showing Kaki a picture of a smiling guy in a white T-shirt. He had dark hair and tanned skin. “This is Damien,” she said in a voice slightly louder than a whisper. “He’s really into you.”

  Kaki racked her brain. Damien, Damien. Did she know a Damien? She didn’t think so. Anyway, that guy looked older than anyone she went to school with. “How does he know me?” Kaki whispered back.

  Sydney looked down at her phone, texting something. “He saw you at the track the other day. He likes your legs. He said they’re like, long and sexy.”

  Kaki’s heart drummed. It must be a joke. Guys didn’t like her like that. “Yeah, right.”

  “Serious. He told me. Look, he’s texting me about you right now.”

  Sydney held up the phone to Kaki’s face again, and she saw the text in the green bubble. Did u talk to ur friend about me?

  “Girls!” Mrs. Moss called out, her voice punctuated with irritation. “Put the cell phone away.”

  “Yeah, in just a sec,” Sydney said, obviously determined to finish her text response to Damien.

  Mrs. Moss’s face flared. “No, now, Sydney!”

  Sydney paid her no attention. Still smiling, she completed her text.

  Everyone knew that teachers couldn’t do anything about cell phones. They could ask students to put them away, but they weren’t allowed to take them.

  Triumphantly, Sydney smiled at Kaki and put her phone down on her desk even as it buzzed against the wood. “I just said to meet us after school. Then you can meet him in person.”

  Truthfully, Kaki didn’t want to meet him—
well, she did, but she didn’t. Like any other girl, she wanted a guy to like her, but she didn’t want to have to come up with conversation and try to be as cool as Sydney. It required too much energy.

  ~*~

  Sydney pulled Kaki into the bathroom after the bell rang and forced some of her red lipstick onto her lips. “You never wear any makeup, and you really should. You’ve got great lips.” Sydney made a smacking sound as she demonstrated how to pop her lips together so that the color spread across the top and the bottom.

  When Kaki looked in the mirror, she thought she looked OK, although the bright red was a brash contrast with her pale hair and skin. It would take some getting used to.

  “Let’s go!” Sydney grabbed Kaki’s hand and pulled her down the back steps toward the parking lot by the football field. “He said he’d wait for us out here.”

  “But I’ll miss my bus!” Kaki protested.

  “He’ll drive us home.”

  2

  Tyler

  Saturday, September 19

  Tyler didn’t know what was wrong with his wife. She’d been sullen and non-communicative since they’d left their friends’ house. Lifting his eyes from the illuminated yellow lines in the road, he stole a glance at her pale profile etched against the dark background outside the passenger window.

  The gentle slope of her nose gave way to naturally pouty lips and a proportionally prominent chin—a profile as familiar as his own face after ten years of marriage. The downward turn of her mouth and the creases tugging at the corners had always been an endearing part of her facial features, but over the past few years the lines had deepened with discontentment.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  He sighed. Her response signified this would be one of those conversations where he asked and pleaded for information, and she punished him with silence for some offense he’d committed and knew nothing about.

  “I know it’s not nothing, so you might as well tell me what I did. Things were fine back at Hilary and Drew’s house. Now what?”

  She shook her head, crossed her arms, and turned her body toward the window where the outside scenery blew by in a mask of neons, car lights, and darkened landscape.