Devil's Bridge Read Online Free PDF Page B

Port Authority terminal, trolling for runaways who get off the bus from some godforsaken town a thousand miles away, twenty-four/seven. No shortage of hungry young girls in that hellhole. The second guy waits outside, in the Slade.”
    “Not so fast,” Fleming said, scribbling in her book. “What’s a Slade?”
    “Sorry. Street name for a Cadillac Escalade. It’s the Estevez pimpmobile of choice. The sweet-talker who was inside the terminal opens the back of the SUV. Shows off the goods—”
    “Goods?”
    “Whatever he’s promised to the kid he’s trying to hook. If she’s seventeen and likes sequins and high-heel shoes, he’s got some glitzy clothes to show her. If she’s fourteen and wants designer makeup and bubble gum, there’s plenty of that.”
    “Then it’s into the Slade and off to meet the wizard. That’s how it goes?”
    “On a good night, yes, Your Honor.”
    “Pay close attention, Moretti. Pretend like you’re hearing this for the first time. Where’s the meet, Ms. Cooper?”
    “Mr. Estevez keeps a separate apartment, just for the purpose of breaking in the young women. Not the address on the court papers, which is his home.”
    “You’ve seen it?”
    “Detectives executed the search warrant I drafted, Judge. Lots of photographs for the jury. Three bedrooms—one for him, another for a female assistant who hangs out there to chill with the girls and prep them for Estevez, and the third for his intended victim.”
    “Judge, I don’t even know how to begin to object to what’s going on here,” Moretti said.
    “It’s easy. You say ‘objection’ and tell me it’s meant to cover everything that’s being asked and answered for the next hour or so, and I’ll say ‘overruled.’ I’ll say it just once, and you’ll understand I mean it for every time you would have flapped your mouth or even rolled your eyes at me. You don’t represent Josie Aponte, and this hearing is about
her
conduct. You’re extraneous to this whole proceeding, Mr. Moretti. I’m just waiting to see whether your conscience makes an appearance today.”
    “May I continue, Your Honor?”
    “Yes, Ms. Cooper.”
    “The apartment I’m referring to has been completely soundproofed.”
    “Loud music? Parties?”
    “Not much of either, Judge. It’s mostly to muffle the screaming.”
    “That should have been obvious to me. I must be slipping. You’ve got a rape charge in here?” she said, referring to the indictment.
    “In almost every instance, Estevez starts with a sexual assault on the victim. No grooming period, no adjustment. They’re brought to the apartment one at a time, and he makes each one have sex with him.”
    “What’s the force? Or is that what you mentioned in the voir dire?”
    “No, the trafficking aspect starts later. There are at least two rape charges per victim. One is statutory because they’re all under the age of consent. The other is first-degree. Estevez uses physical force. Smacks them around when they resist, uses neckties and socks to secure them to the headboard, then has intercourse.”
    “These girls have injuries? They’ve been examined—?”
    “No injuries,” Moretti said. “Not a single one. Not a scratch.”
    Fleming looked me. “Is that true?”
    “Estevez and his crew don’t let the girls go, Judge. That’s the whole point. First he takes a shot at them, one girl at a time. One sexual assault at a time. Then he and one of his alums from the program—an older woman, like, maybe nineteen—spend a few weeks softening the kid up. The vic’s made to think she’s Estevez’s girlfriend. Clothes, video games, music, a gradual introduction to drugs and alcohol. But they never get to leave the apartment. Not once.”
    “Stockholm syndrome,” Fleming said. “The girls form a traumatic bond with the hostage taker. That’s how they protect themselves emotionally.”
    “Of course Ms. Cooper will have to prove that.”
    “Apparently she thinks she can, Mr.