Chapter 4 - The Ledger of the LostThe interior of the freezer wasn't filled with food, nor was it filled with human remains as my father’s dark parting words had implied.
Instead, stacked neatly inside waterproof military-grade ammunition cans, were thousands of crisp, unspent hundred-dollar bills, alongside hundreds of gold watches, expensive rings, and driver's licenses belonging to dozens of different people.
I reached for the top ammunition can and popped the lid. Inside lay a stack of birth certificates.
I picked up the first one with trembling fingers.
Name: Michael Roberts. Born: October 14, 2012. Mother: Clara Vance. Father: Unknown.
"Good God in heaven," Sheriff Walker breathed, stepping closer and shining his light over my shoulder. "These aren't just stolen bank statements. These are identity packets. Every single one of these people... they're missing persons cases from the tri-county area over the last twenty years."
"They weren't just locking me out," I whispered, the pieces finally forming a terrifying, cohesive picture. "They were running a human trafficking clearinghouse disguised as a quiet, God-fearing suburban household. They used my military deployment as a cover story to explain why I wasn't around to see the children they brought into the house."
"And the boy upstairs?" Sheriff Walker asked, his face pale with horror. "Who is he?"
Before I could answer, a soft patter of footsteps echoed at the top of the basement stairs.
We both spun around, weapons raised, expecting an ambush.
Instead, standing at the edge of the stairwell, holding a battered teddy bear with one missing eye, was the boy from the upstairs window. He looked smaller down here in the dim light, shivering in his oversized sweater.
"They're gone, aren't they?" the boy asked quietly, his voice devoid of childish innocence, replaced by the weary acceptance of someone who had survived a war zone. "The bad people... they left?"
I lowered my weapon instantly, clipping it to my belt, and took three slow steps toward him, keeping my hands open and visible.
"Hey," I said softly, crouching down to his eye level. "My name is Sarah. I'm a soldier. And I promise you, nobody is ever going to hurt you again. What's your real name, buddy?"
May you like
The boy clutched his teddy bear tighter, looking down at the rows of stolen ammunition cans and cash before locking his big, frightened eyes on mine.
"My name isn't Michael," he whispered. "That's just what they called me when the cameras were on. My real name is Leo. And I've been down here since I was three years old."
