The big news in town for the last several days has been the FBI raids of a chain of massage parlors that were involved in human trafficking and prostitution. The one that was featured on the front page of the paper the day the story broke? Yes, it was a half mile down the street from my house.
Ever since the place opened, I’d been telling my husband that there was no way it was a legitimate clinical massage business. The name sounded wrong, the cheesy neon "Open" sign didn’t feel right and the hours – open until 11 p.m. seven days a week – just didn’t make sense. All my experience with legitimate massage therapists, who tend to lean toward New Age-y decor and limited hours, told me that there was an unwelcome presence in the neighborhood.
The day my husband called to tell me about the article in the newspaper, all I could say was, "I KNEW IT!"
It’s nice to know I can still trust my gut feelings.
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