Introspections Ch. 15

The alarm company was sitting on the doorstep when Hannah and her parents finally arrived home the next day. Within a couple hours a top of the line system had been installed. James called to confirm the system was alarmed and to tell her not to worry about the van parked across the street. She moved to the front window and glanced out, sure enough a dark van sat at the curb.

"You know I can't pay for any of this. I thought you said my family wouldn't be at risk."

"I said I didn't think they would be, and I don't, but this is the bastard we're talking about. Until he is behind bars permanently I want to take every possible precaution. Don't worry about the cost, it's taken care of. Just be careful, just in case."

She hung the phone up reluctantly. Her mother checked in on her before her parents went off to bed. She was also exhausted, but feared sleep. Finally she gave up on delaying the inevitable and walked down the stairs to the room she had occupied as a child.

Very little had changed, the same floral wallpaper border and the coordinating quilt on the double bed. The only thing out of place was the half dozen or so carefully labeled cardboard boxes against one wall containing the contents of her small apartment. The sum total of her life's belongings were contained in this room. She yanked the tape off a couple of boxes labeled "clothing" in her mom's neat handwriting and dug through until she found her favorite pair of sweatpants and a ratty T-shirt.

Finally attired in her own clothing for the first time in months she pulled the covers down and crawled into bed.

She woke herself with her screams just a few short hours later. Sitting up she flipped on the small lamp on her nightstand and drew her knees up to her chest, forcing herself to breathe deeply to offset the all encompassing panic. When her heartbeat finally slowed she slipped upstairs, relieved that her parents hadn't awakened. She checked the alarm, comforted by the green light, and peeked out the window again at the dark van. The unseen occupant was faceless, but she knew James would have done his homework and was confident the watcher could be trusted. She just hoped the individual didn't have any vulnerable family members.

---

James pulled into the garage, turned off the car, and let out a deep breath he felt like he'd been holding the entire drive home. He stared at the door to the house with dread. A few short months ago he had walked through the door with an unconscious girl, bruised and battered, in his arms. At that time the girl was just a means to an end and he hadn't felt anything toward her but pity. Now the thought of entering an empty home held no appeal. He was halfway tempted to drive the couple hours back to town and get a room for the night, but eventually he was going to have to face the emptiness. He pushed the door open, stepped inside and nearly fell flat on his face as he tripped over a howling feline.

"Damn cat!"

He followed the cat as it made a beeline toward the empty food bowl in the kitchen. As he dumped a cup of dry food in the dish he realized how upset Hannah must have been to make her forget completely to even ask about the cat. He stared down at the critter, strangely reassured by its presence. He reached down to scratch the cat between the ears.

"Looks like it's just you and me for now Trouble. I guess some company is better than none."

He called before getting ready for bed, but Hannah didn't answer. He left a message telling her the cat was fine and checked in with his security specialist, who assured him everything was quiet. He stared at the ceiling for hours before falling asleep, hoping he could get through the trials without loosing his mind.

----

James should have been relieved at the speed of the proceedings toward the bastard's trial. In reality he was suspicious. Instead of the usual delays on the part of the defendant to allow ample time for witness intimidation there was a demand for a speedy trial. Very out of character for a criminal of the bastard's caliber. He had passed his suspicions onto "the watcher" as Hannah had termed her still faceless security specialist, but everything had been quiet.

As suspicious as he was he was also impatient to see Hannah. For the first two weeks they were apart he'd tried talking with her by phone. She had been distant and distracted, asking only about the cat and shutting down immediately if he asked how she was holding out. Eventually she stopped answering his calls altogether. He'd finally resorted to calling her parents, all they could tell him was their daughter was keeping to herself as much as possible, frequently woke up screaming, and refused to talk about anything more emotional than the weather. He'd considered making a trip to see her in person, but had eventually decided to give her the space she appeared to want.

He was among the first to testify, she was on the end of the list. Having made his statement he was then free to observe the remaining testimonies. The gallery was full, but when Hannah was led to the stand it only took moments for her to locate him in the crowd. Her voice was steady as she outlined in detail the bastard's actions toward her at the compound as well as the events leading up to her abduction and escape. She remained calm under cross examination and as soon as her testimony was finished she walked out of the courtroom with her head held high. He knew where she was staying until the jury's deliberations were in but made no attempt to contact her, though he kept his phone close at hand in case she chose to reach out to him. She didn't.

He sat near the door of the courtroom two days later. Sighed in relief as charge after charge was read aloud, every one of them followed by a guilty verdict. The bastard would spend a very long time in prison, quite possibly the rest of his life. After two years of dedicating every effort to bringing down the bastard for him it was over. Now it was time for him to move on with his life. Unfortunately Hannah still had another trial to get through.

He snagged her as she exited the courtyard, pulling her aside into an empty room, where he asked her to sit down for a moment.

"I know we're keeping our distance until you get through Shawn's trial, but I didn't want to wait to give you this."

He slid a photo across the table in front of her, a blonde haired, smiling toddler in a frilly pink dress. Hannah shook her head in confusion.

"Whose that?"

He looked her over seriously before responding, "It's you."

Hannah laughed nervously. "She's too young, my parents don't have any pictures of me that little."

He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away and placed it in her lap, nibbling her lip.

"I didn't get it from your parents sweetheart. Hannah, I know it's hard to believe after what you've been through but statistically, at least in this country, the odds of being kidnapped are pretty slim. The odds of being kidnapped twice in a lifetime in unrelated circumstances are so minuscule the FBI doesn't even keep those stats. Believe it or not, though, you beat those odds."

He opened the manila file folder on the table and slid another photo over to her, this one a mugshot of a woman with a dead look in her eyes.

"She was your nanny. Your birth parents fired her when they found out she'd been using drugs while you were in her care. That night you disappeared from your crib in the middle of the night. There was a ransom demand, but they never showed to pick up the drop. Who knows what happened.

It was eight months later before they found you at that meth house. She was picked up then, but obviously wasn't about to tell the cops she had kidnapped you. DNA wasn't available back then, and I doubt they even considered checking databases for a missing child."

She was staring at him now, in stunned silence. Finally she responded in a whispered voice, "Where are they?"

He shook his head sadly. "Their marriage fell apart after they lost you. Your birthmother passed away a couple years ago, I'm sorry. I wasn't able to locate your birth father, but there's contact information for his siblings and your mother's sister in the file if you want to talk to them."

She took the file from him with shaking hands. He longed to pull her into his arms to comfort her, but could tell she wouldn't welcome the gesture. He settled for brushing her bangs away from her face before stepping away.

"Are you going to be okay? I know it's a shock."

She nodded resolutely, "I'm fine."

She walked toward the door, but then stopped and turned to face him again.

"James, how many girls were there?"

He thought he followed her train of thought, though the question came from out of the blue.

"The fourteen at the hotel, another half dozen plus Kate at the compound, and a handful more the clean up crew were able to free. It was a very successful mission Hannah."

Annoyed she shook her head. "Not how many they rescued. How many girls did the bastard take in all?"

James sighed heavily before responding. "We've no way of knowing, what few records they managed to retrieve were pretty cryptic. As near as they could figure he's been at this well over a decade, probably processing a couple dozen girls a year."

The girl grimaced noticeably.

"How do you know someone else won't step up to take his place?"

James wanted to lie to her, to promise that wasn't going to happen, but she deserved an honest answer.

"The FBI has taken over the complex, but even with that they've only crippled the organization, not destroyed it. It's not only possible someone else will take over, it's probable someone already has. It's a simple matter of supply and demand, and unfortunately there is no lack of demand."

She nodded as if she had anticipated his answer.

"How do you do this job James, knowing that's the case?"

He couldn't stop himself from going toward her, grasping her firmly and forcing her to look him in the eye.

"I can do it because of you Hannah. Because of you over a dozen families have their daughters back, but it doesn't matter if it's a dozen girls or a single daughter, or wife, or sister. You're never going to save the world Hannah, but you've made a difference. Don't question that sweetheart, not even for a minute."

For a moment he thought she would fall into his arms, but the moment passed and she drew away from him.

"Stay safe Hannah. You know how to get in touch if you need anything."

She nodded and walked out of the room, quickly vanishing into a crowd.

--

"Hannah, wait up!"

Hannah turned just before leaving the courthouse to see Agent Perkins hurrying toward her. After her involvement with the kidnapping the agent had graciously accepted being demoted to a desk job with no access to confidential information. Hannah had intentionally sought her out to let Jen know she had no hard feelings, and the women had talked by phone several times since. In fact Hannah had confided more to Jen than she had to James about the nightmares, constant anxiety and the debilitating depression she thought she was successfully hiding from her parents. Jen handed her a business card and Hannah studied it cautiously.

"She's the best therapist for PTSD in your state. Well recognized even on a national level. You have coverage for as many sessions as you need. I'm supposed to let you think victim services is paying for it."

Hannah crossed her arms and stared Jen down. "But they're not."

Jen shrugged in response. "Vic services doesn't pay $300 an hour."

Hannah tried to hand the business card back to her. "I don't need a shrink. I'm fine."

Jen shook her head. "Do you really think your parents are oblivious Hannah? They've talked with James you know. They're frantic with worry. Kate's in therapy. Heck, I'm in therapy, and not just because it was mandated to keep my job. You went through hell girl. There's nothing wrong with accepting that you need help. At least give it a try, please?"

Hannah softened. "Fine, I'll think about it. Just keep James off my back. He may be paying for it, but he doesn't get to dictate what I do with my sessions."

Jen agreed, opened the door and the two women headed for their respective taxis.

---

Hannah started therapy the next week, as soon as the therapist could fit her in, and she did it with the same resolute determination she'd shown under pressure time and time again. A few weeks in had her starting to break down walls. After yet another night awakened by her own screams she found herself slipping into her parents' bedroom, where she stood by her mother's side of the bed.

Naturally she had woken her parents as a child on occasion, but it hadn't been often. Even as a child she had been fiercely independent. Somehow the thought of letting them in now was nearly paralyzingly, before she could talk herself out of it she gently shook her mother's shoulder.

Her mother's initial reaction was panic at the totally unexpected intrusion, but that was quickly replaced by relief, and then an almost giddiness. Soon the two women sat together in dim lighting in the kitchen, Hannah sipping on a cup of warm milk while her mother rambled on about garden club meetings and such. It was a strange sort of sensation, this companionship. After awhile the drowsiness set in again and her mother, instinctively sensing it in the way mother's do, hustled her back to the basement. Hannah turned at the doorway, embracing her mother for a moment, before whispering goodnight and once again settling in for sleep. This time, at last, she slept without dreams.

--

Despite her growing relationship with her parents when the delay tactics Shawn's lawyers attempted were exhausted and the time for the next trial finally came Hannah insisted on traveling on her own.

Her testimony at the bastard's trial had been one of many, but as James had warned there was no one else to make a case against Shawn. James was there for moral support, but had nothing to offer in the way of testimony that wasn't hearsay.

The questioning was hell. Her sexual fantasies, the titillating effects of subtle humiliation, were paraded out in the open for all to see. The defense seemed determined to force her to admit she had willingly consented to "meeting" Shawn as if her being snatched off the street was merely taking the fantasies to the next level. She steeled herself, remained matter of fact, refused to be trapped in the manipulations and clearly conveyed that she had told him repeatedly she had no interest in ever meeting, let alone "allowing" herself to be sold into slavery.

When that line of questioning proved ineffective as predicted the defense set to work attempting to convince the jury her testimony had been irreparably influenced by her relationship with James. They argued she had been used unethically in an undercover sting she had no say in and that she had been pressured into testifying against her former handler against her will. She barely blinked under the pressure.

Finally they attempted to paint a picture of an innocent man trapped by circumstances and manipulated into acting as a handler for a major sex slave ring, whose motivation was merely survival rather than sexual sadism and financial gain. Again she clearly stated the facts, including the occasion when Shawn had bragged to her about the bonus he had received, throughout the ordeal seeming completely calm and composed though James alone noted the frequent nibbling of her lip.

At last it was over, the jury excused for deliberations. James sat with her as she waited. He dared not ask how she was really doing, all too aware she was putting on a glorious facade of control out of sheer desperation and self preservation. The deliberations did not last long. Shawn was found guilty on charges of kidnapping, assault and battery, sentenced to fifteen years. It didn't seem near enough time for what he had cost her, but she would take it. The prosecutor told her straight out if he had raped her it would likely have added another five years, and she acknowledged trading her virginity for a few more years of prison time wouldn't have been worth it. At last the few spectators trickled into the hallway where she nervously approached James.

"It's over, at least. Can we go home now?"

James looked down at her and she knew instantly she wasn't going to like what he had to say.

"Hannah, when you left with your parents I went back to Nevada to help the clean up crews sort through the mass of people they had picked up. I came across a girl I recognized, one I knew without question was a take. I had to watch her walk out of the building with her captor, willingly, because she had bonded with him out of necessity to survive and she refused to speak out against him. I'm not going to let you come home with me based on nothing more than a trauma bond."

Shocked disbelief crossed her face, followed by rage as she frantically lashed out against him.

"It's the first damned bond I've ever had, James!"

He nodded in agreement. "I know. Which is why you're not coming with me now. I will wait Hannah, but when...if...you come back to me make sure it's for the right reasons."

She wanted to scream, to cry, or at least to beg but instead she watched him walk away from her without comment. Finally she pulled herself together and made arrangements to return home to her parents.

---

"I don't think it is a trauma bond."

Hannah had just updated her therapist about James' latest declaration. She eyed the professional doubtfully.

"What about the PTSD? The nightmares?"

The therapist, as Jen had said, was an expert in her field.

"Stockholm syndrome is a theory Hannah, nothing more. There isn't a diagnostic criteria for it, but even if there was I don't think you'd qualify. You spent nearly the same amount of time under the supposed care of your handler as you did with James. Did you bond with Shawn?"

Hannah guffawed, "Of course not!"

The therapist nodded knowingly.

"Do you care about James? Enough to allow yourself to let down the walls and truly let him in, even if it's a given that there will be times where doing so leads to being hurt?"

The lip nibbling started, but she didn't hesitate for long.

"I do, and I am. He's worth the risk."

"It's true bonding with him may have initially been a result of him saving you from a desperate situation, but that didn't last long. Ultimately you developed a bond based on a common goal. Many successful relationships have been built on much less. Besides, you told me you haven't been having nightmares most nights for weeks. The association with him may temporarily increase PTSD symptoms, but you have the tools you need to handle those symptoms. If you really think James is worth it don't let fear hold you back."

Hannah took a deep breath before standing. Her hour wasn't over, but she didn't need the rest of the time, she knew what she was going to do.

"Thank you doctor. We'd best cancel my appointment next week, I suspect I'll be out of town."

She called her parents on the way out of the building to let them know not to expect her for dinner before calling a taxi and hopping online to book a flight. The last minute ticket put a substantial dent in her already nearly empty bank account. No matter, if she needed a return ticket she'd get James to cover it. Two hours later she hit the ground, snagged a rental car and was on her way to a cabin in the middle of nowhere. She stopped in town for gas and a bite to eat. Sitting down at the bar in the diner she was surprised to see a familiar face.

"Hey there, you're Jimmy's little gal. How's that critter I pawned off on you doing?"

She smiled sincerely at the man who had given her Trouble and pulled she and James out of a ditch. Somehow she found herself telling him the whole story.