Return to Tomorrow by Marisa Carroll

his foot in its white leather pump.
    â€œShe disappeared from our cottage—she’s my assistant—without a word. It took me five days to find someone who had seen her leave the camp. She was with a man, her brother as I said, and she was crying.” She clamped her fingers around the straps of her bag. It contained a change of clothes, her passport and what little money she had. Harrison Bartley eyed the woven bag distastefully.
    â€œYoung girls are brought down from the hills into Patpong every day.” Rachel hated the accepting tone of his voice, the little nod of his head that said, “You get used to hearing such things in this part of the world.”
    It wasn’t as if she hadn’t heard the words before. Father Dolph had warned her this was how it would be when she’d told him what she’d learned from the Hlông woman who’d seen Ahnle leave the camp with her brother. “He’s most likely taken her to Chiang Mai or Bangkok.” The priest’s words had been gentle, his tone sympathetic but resigned. “You’re too brave and intelligent to hide from the truth, Rachel. Unwanted daughters are often traded away here. Surely that happened in the village where you lived? It’s an old custom. We can only pray to God and work to change it.”
    â€œIt’s a terrible practice but it still happens here.”Bartley’s words echoed Father Dolph’s in her head. “Officially, I can’t do much. The girl isn’t even a Thai national, is she?” He twitched the leg of his pants. “They turn a blind eye to what the hill people do down here. Except for the king. Bit of a reformer, His Majesty.”
    â€œPerhaps Ambassador Singleton might be able to give me some more information.” She closed her eyes to blot out the sight of Bartley’s handsome, vacuous face. The sharp sting of angry, frustrated tears pricked behind her eyelids. “Can you arrange for me to speak to him?”
    â€œHe’s unavailable, I’m afraid.”
    â€œPlease.” She would beg if she had to.
    â€œI’m sorry, Rachel.” The peevish tone was gone. “The ambassador is in conference with the king’s minister right now. I couldn’t get through to him if my own life depended on it.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œLook, why don’t you try to get in touch with your friends from the jungle?”
    â€œI don’t understand.” She was so tired she couldn’t think straight.
    â€œSure, you do.” For the first time she heard real anger beneath Bartley’s smoothly cultured tones. “Tiger Jackson and that black friend of his. Surely you know it was their camp we spent the night in?” He stood up and walked behind the desk, distancing himself from Rachel and her problem.
    â€œI don’t know how to contact them.” She could be blunt, also.
    â€œTry the Lemongrass.” He sat down behind the desk.
    â€œThe restaurant you took me to that day?”
    â€œI’ve heard you can contact Tiger Jackson there. He’s got a damned sight better chance of finding the girl than we do. Our Mr. Jackson has friends in very high places.”
    â€œBy that you mean he’s paid off everyone necessary to ensure he’s not bothered by the authorities.”
    â€œSo do the kind of…businessmen who are interested in young girls like your assistant, if you catch my drift. It’s the accepted way of doing business in Southeast Asia.” He twirled a gold pen between manicured fingers. “Do you know I couldn’t get one single person, including my boss, to listen to me when I told them we spent the night in his jungle hideout? No one. And the fellow who gave me the map? He’s gone. Rotated home right in the middle of his tour. There isn’t a copy of that map to be had anywhere in Thailand. The one I had with me that day, remember?” Rachel nodded. “It’s