Chapter 2 - Beneath the Floorboards
The Pine Ridge Trailer Park was a forgotten stretch of rust and aluminum on the edge of the county line. The rain hammered against the tin roofs like a drumline as Deputy Miller and two backup officers approached Lot 42. There were no lights on inside. The front door was wide open, swaying and creaking on broken hinges.
Miller clicked his flashlight on, signaling his men to fan out. They drew their weapons and stepped inside. The interior was completely trashed. Furniture was overturned, dishes were shattered across the cheap linoleum, and the wallpaper was physically torn from the walls as if someone had been frantically searching for something—or someone.
"Clear," an officer called from the bedroom.
"Clear in the kitchen," another shouted.
Miller lowered his weapon, his flashlight beam cutting through the dust and rain blowing through the door. He noticed something odd about the rug in the narrow hallway. It was bunched up, revealing a section of the floorboards that looked newer than the rest. He knelt down, using his tactical knife to pry at the edge of the wood. With a sharp crack, the panel gave way.
Miller shone his light into the dark cavity beneath the trailer. It wasn't just a crawlspace. It was a reinforced, soundproofed holding cell. Inside, there were three small mattresses, several chains bolted to the steel frame of the trailer, and a ledger book bound in black leather.
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"Oh my God," Miller breathed. He reached down and grabbed the ledger. Flipping it open, he saw lists of names, ages, physical descriptions, and dollar amounts. Beside Maya's name was a five-figure sum and a terrifying note: Pickup at the Diner, 3:00 AM.
Miller grabbed his radio. "Jenkins, we have a major problem. It's a trafficking ring. And they were using the trailer as a staging ground. The drop is supposed to happen tonight at the highway diner. We need state police here, now."
