An Insignificant Case

Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

The Justice Center was a sixteen-story building in downtown Portland that housed the Multnomah County jail, several courtrooms, and the Portland Police Central Precinct among other things. The detective division of the Central Precinct was a wide-open space that stretched along one side of the thirteenth floor. Each detective had his or her own cubicle that was separated from the other detectives’ by a chest-high divider.

Yesterday evening, Detective Sally Blaisedale had been part of a team that had raided a house where a cartel was storing narcotics and cash. The raid had resulted in several arrests, and it was early morning before the prisoners had been interrogated and processed. Most of the participants in the raid had gone home to snatch a few hours of sleep, but Sally had stayed at the Justice Center to write her reports.

Blaisedale’s intercom buzzed after she’d been working on the reports for an hour.

“There’s a woman on the line who wants to talk to a detective. Do you want to take the call?” the receptionist asked.

Blaisedale needed a break, so she told the receptionist to put the call through.

“How can I help you?” Blaisedale asked.

“Are you a detective?” the woman asked. Sally thought she sounded young and frightened.

“Yes.”

“We want to talk to you about something terrible that happened to us.”

“There’s more than one of you?”

“There were a lot of girls, but it’s just us two who want to meet with you.”

“Okay. Do you want to come to my office at police headquarters?”

“No. We can’t risk going to police headquarters. They might be watching us.”

“Who might be watching?”

“We’ll tell you when we meet. Can you go to the Thai restaurant in Hillsdale in the mall across from Ida B. Wells High School?”

“Are you a student?”

“Please. Can you meet us?”

“Okay. When?”

“After school. Three thirty.”

Detective Blaisedale was seated in a booth at the back of the restaurant, dressed in jeans, a Trailblazers sweatshirt, and a Blazers ball cap while she read a mystery novel and sipped a Thai iced coffee. When the girls came in, she had no trouble spotting them. They were the only women of high school age in the restaurant who weren’t smiling and who looked scared.

Blaisedale made eye contact, and the girls hurried to the booth. They were both wearing jeans and hoodies. When they sat down, the hoodies fell back.

“Hi,” Blaisedale said as she flashed a smile that she hoped assured them that they were safe. “I’m Sally Blaisedale. I’m a detective. Who are you?”

“I’m Kendra Miles, and this is Felicity Halston.”

Miles was five three with curly black hair, high cheekbones, and blue eyes. Halston was two inches taller than her friend and had long, straight blond hair and a pug nose.

“Nice to meet you,” Blaisedale said. “Now, how can I help you?”

“Before we tell you,” Kendra Miles said, “we need to know that you’ll protect us.”

“I’ll need to know what this is about before I can work out the best way to do that.”

“What if this involves very powerful people with a lot of political influence?”

The detective looked directly at the girls. “No one is above the law. If you have evidence that a powerful person committed a crime, I’ll go after him the same way I’d go after anyone else.”

The girls looked at each other. Blaisedale thought that they were really scared, but they also looked determined.

“We were kidnapped, taken to an estate in the country, and forced to have sex.”

Miles stopped and took a deep breath. Halston wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her.

“I can see that this is very hard for you,” Blaisedale said. “Take your time.”

“I want you to know what they did to us,” Miles said as a tear ran down her cheek.