“I’m a prostitute,” the woman says with one eyebrow raised, waiting for Sadie to blanch or reprimand her. “Or a ‘s*x worker,’ as the politically correct among us like to say.” She laughs, a dry, bitter sound.
“What’s your name?” Sadie asks.
The woman casts her gaze to the ceiling like she’s too good for the conversation, but she crosses her arms and answers. “Annika.”
“I’m Sadie. And these are Courtney and Tati,” Sadie says, introducing us. “What do you know about this operation, Annika?”
She shakes her head. “Not much. They send women to eastern Europe via ships, sell them, and then return for more. That’s the nice thing about human cargo. It’s always reproducing. Like f*****g rabbits.”
Suddenly, I can smell the salt in the air. And the rustle from outside that I’d written off as the
