“I understand. With the progress she’s made over the last twenty-four hours, I feel confident she can handle the conversation. Let’s go have a word with her.”
“One more thing. You mentioned moving her into a home until we can contact her family.” Marta went on to explain the lack of agencies in their small town to help with something like that, and Josie’s refusal to allow her to stay with an officer. “But we do have a small motel in town. It’s clean and run by a good man who will keep an eye on Isabella. We’ll have officers checking on her frequently.”
“I think it’s an excellent idea. Physically she’s fine. And I don’t see psychological harm in moving her. The sooner she sees herself as recuperating, the better. Assuming the conversation we’re about to have goes well, I’d move her this evening.”
Marta smiled. “That’s good to hear.” She knew the importance of keeping an emotional distance from victims, but young people, especially a young woman so close to her own daughter’s age, pulled at her heartstrings. Through the years, Teresa had made some horrible decisions, and Marta thanked God every day that she’d come through them unbroken.
*
The doctor knocked on Isabella’s door and entered. He was inside with her for about five minutes before he beckoned Marta into the room. With the overhead light off and the light outside the window fading, gray shadows played across their faces. Marta was glad when Dr. Brazen turned on the bedside lamp.
She reached out her hand and Isabella took it and smiled slightly, but her eyes revealed the dread of what was to come.
Dr. Brazen stood next to Marta and spoke quietly. “You’ve come a long way, Isabella. I feel confident you’ll recover from the terrible things that happened. Once you’re reunited with your family, and you continue talking to a doctor, you’ll come through this a stronger person.”
She nodded, her eyes focused intently on him.
“You understand that Marta’s job is to put the men that hurt you in jail? She wants to lock them away so they can’t hurt you or anyone else.”
“I know that,” she said. Her voice was soft but strong.
Marta was shocked at the difference, even in her appearance, from last night. Her long black hair was clean and pulled back in a headband, and her pale cheeks now had a little color. Marta was struck by how innocent she appeared, sitting in the white hospital bed in the cotton gown.
Marta felt the doctor’s eyes on her and she realized he was giving her the signal to proceed.
“Let’s start by talking about your family,” Marta said. “We want to get you back home. If you can give me a phone number and an address, I’ll make contact. We can start making arrangements to connect you.”
Her expression turned cold and she shook her head. “No.”
“I’ll be glad to talk with them, explain what’s happened.”
“No. I won’t talk about this.”
Marta sighed. She had no idea what the issue was: the shame of taking family money and not achieving the goal, the shame of rape, the fear of returning. Marta had hoped to break the ice with talk of her family, but it hadn’t worked. She hoped the girl’s resolve would soften.
“Isabella, the doctor explained that we want to help you. We want you to be safe.”
The young woman pursed her lips and jutted her chin out in a brave gesture.
“I’d like to show you some photographs of several men. I’d like you to tell me if you recognize any of them. Can you do that?”
She glanced down at the photos in Marta’s hand and nodded.
Marta held up the sheet of photos and Isabella nodded and pointed to the photo of Ryan Needleman and turned her head away. “Yes. He’s one of them.”
“What do you mean by that?” Marta didn’t want to put words in her mind, so if it ended up at trial, she wouldn’t be accused of leading a witness.
“He drove us. From Guatemala to Mexico.”
“Can you tell me where in Mexico?”
“In Piedra Labrada. That’s where Renata and I ran.”
Marta tried to keep the surprise from her expression. “You told me you didn’t know her name. Why didn’t you tell me before when I asked?”
She looked away, a sign that told Marta she was acknowledging the lie, or still not telling the truth.
“I was just afraid,” Isabella said.
“Can you tell me her last name?”
“She never told me.”
“Do you have any idea where the other women are that didn’t leave with you?”
She took a deep ragged breath, obviously trying to hold back tears. “They wouldn’t come. We begged them, but they said they had to make it to the end. We ran the night we were going to cross the border into the United States. We’d checked into a motel for a few hours’ sleep. Ryan was taking a shower and Josh lay down on the bed and fell asleep. They’d quit being so careful with us. They never imagined we’d run. But I couldn’t take one more night with him.”