he poked his head into the room, he saw that Sharon Bentley, Sawyer’s teacher, hadn’t wrapped up her current conference. She held up one hand to signal she’d be another five minutes.
Derek nodded in response, then stepped back into the hall and gestured to the wooden bench lining the wall. He and Tate sat, their big bodies awkwardly positioned on the kid-size bench. Both stood at six feet, and the bench was so low to the ground it was as if they were sitting on the floor.
“Anyway, about this Amelia thing,” Tate continued.
“I can’t talk about that right now. I … I can’t.” He let out a breath. “Tell me what’s happening with the investigation.”
Tate’s expression hardened. “The sting operation is going down next week.”
“So your informant came through?”
“Yeah, Miller’s giving us the locations where the girls are being held. My supervisor has me posing as a buyer—I’m a rich New York businessman looking to buy myself a sex slave.” A combination of revulsion and rage dripped from Tate’s tone.
Derek felt pretty sick himself, and he was totally feeling his brother’s rage, too. It horrified him to think that innocent girls were being sold off in a sex ring as if they were cattle. Both Tate and Emma were working overtime to crack this online ring wide open, and the coordinated efforts of the FBI and the Pennsylvania and Ohio PDs were finally paying off, especially now that Solomon Miller, a minor player in the ring, was working as an informant to help law enforcement nab the ringleaders.
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