“It’s easier to pimp kids out to respectable husbands and fathers when there’s no one around to witness it,” Rosie said. She had been clenching her jaw so hard it was beginning to hurt. For the first time, she was almost grateful to have been sequestered away in the hospital, kept away from the perps being processed through the custody suite, from the fingertip searches, and from sifting through the devastation the Galpins had caused.

“Were all the kids being used like Kyle?” Jem asked quietly.

“No, not all of them,” Steph said. “Preliminary interviews suggest the children tended to start out stealing, a few using tricks similar to those described by Ava and Chloe, but most just performing common or garden shoplifting or burglaries. Once they were recruited and trained, they were kept compliant by rewards, punishments, and recreational drugs. The longer they remained involved, the more likely they were to end up addicted and dependent, and that’s when they were moved on to the prostitution side of things.” She sighed and rested her hands across her notes. “A handful of the kids have been pissed off at us for interfering. Frank Galpin painted himself as a good mate; a big brother or a father figure, which is obviously something these children have been missing. They were paid for their work and had a roof over their heads, even if it was a crappy one. It was only those who stepped out of line who really suffered, and many of these kids had suffered far worse in the care system.”

Jem nodded, but she didn’t seem capable of replying. Rosie could only imagine what she was thinking. It was little wonder she had been so obsessed with the luck surrounding her adoption, given the alternatives that might have awaited her.

“How the hell did Tahlia get away?” Rosie said. “I’m assuming she was one of their kids at some point.”

“She was, briefly,” Steph said. “But she cottoned on to the downsides almost immediately and did a runner. There was no real urgency for them to find her until you showed Mrs. Galpin her photograph.”

“Shit,” Rosie whispered. “I could have got her killed.”

“Hey,” Jem said in a tone sharp enough to make Rosie look at her. “Tahlia would still be fending for herself in the old mill if it weren’t for you.”

“I suppose.”

“Jem’s right,” Steph said, shocking the hell out of Rosie. “The Mansoors are pushing for some kind of commendation.”

“Oh God, really?” Rosie had never been one for ceremony, especially if it involved rubbing shoulders with the top brass. “Can we nip that in the bud?”

“We can try. But you know how starved our lot are for positive media attention.”