“Go then,” I ordered. “Call me when you get to Hanoi.”
“I will. Thanks, Ethan.”
“For what, Fin?”
“For caring as much as you do.”
I grinned from ear to ear. “Shut up, Fin.”
I don’t know how but I could hear her smile and she hung up.
A hard stone settled in the pit of my stomach. With as secretive as she was about everything, I knew there must have been something about what she was doing that was extraordinarily dangerous, and I didn’t know what to do with that. I walked toward my room, ready to reach for my laptop. I spent about one minute that morning toggling back and forth between trying to decide whether I should search the Internet for information on Finley’s case. I decided I wouldn’t betray her that way. I decided, if she wanted me to know, she would tell me, and with that, I showered and dressed.
I paced the living room, ready to text that ranger at Glacier but couldn’t bring myself to do it, not when I knew Finley might be doing something crazy, even if it was to help others. I gave in and picked up my laptop, bringing it to my knees, and pulled up a search engine. Fin had said that the name of the organization she was helping was an Irish name meaning to safeguard. I searched an English-to-Irish dictionary and clicked the first link. Four little boxes pulled up and I chose the English translator, typing in “to safeguard.”
The word Slánaigh fell at the top of the results. Beside it was a small sideways triangle, indicating you could hear how it was pronounced so I clicked it. A man’s voice came on and his interpretation sounded like the “slunug” I recognized from Finley.
With shaking hands, I highlighted the word “Slánaigh” and pasted it along with “Vietnam” in the search bar, clicking enter.
There it is.
I clicked on the link to the site and was greeted with hauntingly sad images like a punch in the stomach. Children. Children but their eyes had bars across them to protect their identities, I decided. The headline read, “Stop Child Sex Slavery.”
Like that, my world tipped on its side. I felt my breath catch in my throat. I understood why Finley would have wanted to help this cause and I even understood why she kept it a secret. Revealing that the issue hit close to home for her and would have been an admission of her past and she wasn’t ready for that. I understood it but I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it because it was extremely dangerous.
I read their mission statement and cringed, imagining Finley reliving her past. Not being able to stop there, I read their journals, the articles, the personal accounts of survivors and volunteers alike. The men who ran these sex trade circles weren’t just the sick of the sick, you guys. They were devoid of anything resembling humanity. They were violent beyond violent. They weren’t afraid to murder those who got in their way. They bribed the media and police and they were successful. They were incredibly successful.
I felt utterly ill to my stomach. I couldn’t believe I’d let Finley go, that I’d actually driven her to the airport. If I had known, I would have stopped her. If I’d known, I would have found another solution for her to feel like she was accomplishing her goal. The idea of her over there risking her life was too much for me.
I let out a shaky breath and stood from my search. The urge to drink was something fierce. Instead of heading to Vi, I decided to put on a pair of running shorts, a pair of sneakers, and go running. I pushed down the overwhelming call to the bottle and headed out onto the outskirts of the fields, running like my life depended on it and as the sweat dripped down my back and chest, I decided something had to be done for Finley.
I needed to bring her home, take her away from the danger, protect her. I needed to do this. I needed to save her as she saved me.
And so I ran. I ran away from my addiction like my life depended on it. I’d imagined I was running to Finley and suddenly I’d never had such endurance, never wanted anything more in my life. She’d become more important to me than myself. Nothing would sever that friendship, nothing.
After running hard for close to an hour, I went back home, showered again and sat on the bed with every intention of looking up details about the search-and-rescue position Seth said was available at Glacier, but apparently I’d fallen asleep without realizing it, which was a disconcerting thing. I was awakened by the sound of my phone ringing. I shot up with a confused feeling, glancing at my surroundings and realizing my phone was going off. Searching through the sheets, I found the phone, sliding the answer button.
“Hello,” my voice rasped.
“Is Ethan there?” Finley asked.
“Fin, it’s me,” I said, my voice scratchy from sleep.
She laughed. “I barely recognized you. You already have the deepest voice ever so when Vin Diesel on molasses answered I was like what!”
I smiled and shook my head. “I, uh, fell asleep. Didn’t mean to. It just happened.”
“Yeah, well, I’m envious as hell. I’ve been flying on an airplane for almost twenty-four hours, dude, and I’m about to go Joaquin Phoenix on someone and strangely rant about frogs and other nonsense.”
A burst of laughter eked out of me. “You’re deranged, Dyer.”
She sighed. “I know. Hey,” she went off without warning, “wanna hear something trippy?”
“Always.”
“It’s, what, two-thirty on a Friday afternoon there, right?”
“Right.”