by Matt Lincoln
Even knowing all that, I still didn’t want to go. I knew it was ridiculous. My parents didn’t even live in Jamaica. Last I’d heard, they were living several islands to the south in Trinidad. But after what they’d done, and what they’d tried to force me to do, the very thought of even crossing paths with them again made my stomach churn.
I shoved the photo album back into the dark corner of the storage closet I’d pulled it from, then went into my bedroom to change. I put on a tank top and a pair of soft jogging pants before pulling my hair into a ponytail. It was early enough in the morning that the temperature wouldn’t be too hot yet, and I thought that a jog might help to clear my mind.
I headed straight for Pueblo Park, which was close enough to my house to jog to. I didn’t like jogging around the neighborhood because I disliked having to breathe in the smell of car exhaust while I was running, and I honestly just didn’t like my neighbors very much. Miranda had accused me of being a snob on more than one occasion, but I at least had the credentials and skills to justify my confidence. The people who lived around me walked around as if they were better than everyone else just because they happened to have more money, and I couldn’t stand their undeserved arrogance.
The park was nearly empty this early in the morning, and I savored the solitary and peaceful run. As I rounded a corner around a cluster of trees, I spotted a young family having a picnic in the shade. The couple looked like they were in their twenties, and the baby napping between them couldn’t have been more than a few months old. I felt a pang of loneliness as I passed the trio, and for just a moment, I wished that I had someone to spend the day before a mission with the way Wallace intended.
It was a peculiar system he’d enacted, and unlike any I’d ever experienced in any other place of work. Nelson had once mentioned in passing that the reason Wallace was so adamant that his agents take time to spend with their friends and families before a mission was because of something that had happened when they were both younger and still police officers. He hadn’t elaborated with any details but had only said that it was very important to Wallace that we all take care of ourselves mentally as well as physically.
It was a little sad that despite all of his efforts, he’d wind up with a bunch of antisocial agents. I thought it was ironic that Charlie, who was arguably the least sociable agent working for the Las Vegas branch, was the only one who actually spent the day before a mission with his family. Miranda had left home and joined the Marines at eighteen, Fiona had been bullied her whole life and never learned to make friends, Junior was apparently a child prodigy who was so busy going to school he never developed a social life, and I… well, I did what I had to in order to survive. Nevertheless, it was nice having a boss who was so concerned about the well-being of his employees.
The rays of the sun were beginning to beat down on me in full force by the time I made it back to my house, and I sighed in relief as the cool air hit me when I stepped through the front door. Just as I was toweling the sweat off my brow and getting ready to have a shower, my phone went off.
The name shining at me from the front of my phone’s screen belonged to a man I had been seeing casually for the past two months. My finger hovered over the answer button for a moment before I changed my mind and set the phone down on the bathroom counter, letting it ring until it went to voicemail.
I watched my phone light up as an icon indicating I had a missed call flashed across the screen, and I wondered if maybe this was the reason I was alone. The truth was that I got bored very easily, of people, of places, of jobs even. Relationships were always fun when they were new and exciting and full of anticipation, but once familiarity and routine set in, I always lost interest. The same was true for jobs, which was why it was so surprising that I’d been with MBLIS for nearly two years now. After I’d left my job as a consulate or the American Embassy, I’d hopped from place to place, always chasing a new and exciting opportunity. The thing about working for MBLIS was that it never got boring, so I never felt the urge to drift away.
As I stepped into the shower, I wondered whether I should call Sean back. He was a nice man: kind, intelligent, and he treated me like a princess. It was good for my ego, but honestly a little boring. I tended to agree with the assertions that opposites attract, so being with a man who just agreed with everything I said or thought wasn’t stimulating enough for me. Maybe that’s why Miranda and Charlie seemed to be getting along so well lately.
I didn’t have any solid evidence that they were seeing each other, but I was adept at noticing minute changes in behavior or routine. If they were together, they were doing a rather good job of hiding it, but I’d still noticed the way Charlie seemed to roll his eyes at her less and actually paid attention when she was talking. Miranda was no longer the first one bouncing out of the office to head to a bar or club in the evening. On the contrary, she always seemed to wait until after Charlie had left before gathering her things.
I decided to ask Charlie about it tomorrow on the plane ride down to Jamaica. It wasn’t really any of my business, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy a bit of gossip now and again. The idea of messing with Charlie sounded fun too.
In the end, I decided not to call Sean back and spent the rest of the day inside watching old movies and crocheting. The run had helped ease the anxiety I’d had over the idea of bumping into my parents, and now that I wasn’t nervous anymore, I was beginning to feel excited about the prospect of going to Jamaica. I did have other family there aside from my parents, and it would be nice to see some of my aunts and cousins again. I’d escaped from my parents’ control a long time ago, and I wasn’t about to let them kill my enthusiasm now.
16
Charlie
The plane ride the morning of the mission felt uncomfortably quiet. It would take us about eight hours to get to our destination of Kingston, which was thankfully much shorter than the sixteen-hour flight I’d had to take to Japan a few months ago. I was used to going on missions with Junior, who was typically content to read or play a video game while I napped, so traveling with Patel felt strange.
She was sitting straight up in her chair, with perfect posture and her hands folded neatly in her lap. That, in itself, wasn’t all that unusual for Patel, who always carried herself like royalty and had the attitude to match, but something about it today seemed forced. I could tell how tightly her jaw was set by the way her skin was pulled taut against her jawline, and her entire body was just too still. It was as though she was trying really hard to concentrate on something.
“Scared of flying?” I asked, and she turned her head sharply toward me.
“What?” She blinked at me in surprise.
“Are you scared of flying?” I repeated my question. “You just seem kind of tense.” She stared at me for a long moment before deflating into her seat.
“I’m not afraid of flying,” she replied. “I’m just nervous. I have this irrational fear that I’ll run into my parents while we’re on the island.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I retorted. “Jamaica’s huge, and there are thousands of people there. What are the odds you’d run into them?”
“Infinitesimally small,” she replied flatly. “I’m aware it’s stupid. I had this same conversation with myself just yesterday. I thought I’d gotten over it, but then I woke up this morning absolutely dreading the thought of even seeing them. You don’t have to tell me I’m ridiculous. I know that already.”
“Well, you need to get over it,” I deadpanned. Patel raised an eyebrow at me, incredulous at how blunt I was being. “Listen, I’m not gonna pretend to know what your problem is with your folks, but you have to stop worrying about it. You aren’t going to be any help to me on this mission if you're inside your own head the entire time, whining about how you’re afraid of your mom and dad.”
Patel glared daggers at me, and for a second, I was genuinely afraid she was going to slap me or stab me with the point of her impractically tall high heels. It s
urprised me when instead, she let out a small burst of laughter and relaxed further into her seat.
“You’re right,” she sighed. “I’ll be nothing but dead weight if I keep moping around like a frightened child. I needed to hear that, so thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I responded tentatively. I was surprised by her reaction and by how poised she seemed even while admitting her own shortcomings.
“That was, however, very bold of you,” she continued. “How did you know that I wouldn’t get upset at having you speak to me like that?”
“I didn't,” I answered honestly. “I just had a hunch. You have a strong character, and you’re a no-nonsense kind of person. I assumed you’d appreciate me speaking to you straight instead of beating around the bush.”
“You’re right about that,” she replied. “I can’t stand having people agree with me just for the sake of keeping the peace. I do hope that you don’t speak to the other agents like that, though. I can’t imagine how Junior would react.”
“Of course I don’t,” I scoffed. I was a blunt person, but I wasn’t a jerk. Not on purpose, at least. I knew that what worked for one person wouldn’t necessarily work for another. “The tough-love approach wouldn’t work on him. He’d probably get all sad and mopey for the rest of the day.”
“Fiona would burst into tears,” Patel mused.
“Miranda would probably slap me,” I frowned, and Patel fell silent for a moment as she regarded me with a look I couldn’t read. It made me feel uncomfortable, as though she was trying to scrutinize me, so I hurried to change the subject.
“What is your deal with your parents, anyway?” I asked. I regretted it as soon as Patel’s face dropped. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“No,” Patel replied slyly. “I’ll tell you what’s going on with my parents and me if you’ll tell me what’s going on with you and Miranda.”
I felt the blood drain from my face as she spoke, unsure how I should respond. We hadn’t specifically set out to keep what we were doing a secret, but it wasn’t exactly something we were trying to broadcast either. Primarily because of what was happening right now. I didn’t particularly like the idea of being the main topic of gossip around the office. In hindsight, it was foolish to think that no one would notice. We were working in an office full of detectives, after all.
“Not really anything,” I answered half truthfully. We weren’t really dating officially, so there wasn’t much to say.
“You’re lying,” Patel deadpanned. “It took you five full seconds to respond, and you looked like a deer caught in the headlights as soon as I asked. That in itself tells me that something is going on. Give me details.” She looked like a shark eyeing a piece of prey, and I had a feeling she was going to wheedle the information out of me one way or another.
“You first,” I stalled. “You said you’d tell me what the deal was with your parents. Tell me, and I’ll give you all the boring details.”
“Oh, right,” Patel sighed. “Where’s the best point to start this story... Well, my parents tried to force me into an arranged marriage.”
My eyebrows shot up into my hairline.
“They did what?” I asked. “Is that even still done?”
“In some parts of the world,” Patel nodded. “I was nineteen and in my second year at university. They’d only sent me to school to get my MRS degree, as they say. They’d wanted me to attend a school in India, so I’d be close to them, but in the end, I convinced them to let me go to a university in the United States. I told them the men there would be better educated and wealthier, and that was all I needed to say to get them to agree. They didn’t really care about my education, just that I’d find a suitable man to marry.” She sounded bitter as she spoke.
“That’s such an antiquated practice,” I muttered. “I had no idea people still did stuff like that.”
“A lot of people don’t,” she smiled sadly. “Just like they don’t know about how many children are trafficked into the United States every day. Anyway, they started to get impatient when I hadn’t found someone by my second year, so they moved to Trinidad in the Caribbean to keep a closer eye on me. Every day they pressured me more and more, and I devoted myself entirely to my studies. I knew getting an education and a good job would be my only way out.”
She took a deep breath and then continued. “Then, on my graduation day, they surprised me with a trip down to the Caribbean. I knew something was strange about it, but they were my parents. No matter how many times we argued or disagreed, I never thought they would…” She trailed off as she clenched her jaw and blinked tears out of her eyes.
“Listen, if you don’t want to talk about it-” I started.
“No,” she replied coldly. “I’ve spent long enough hiding the truth. I want someone else to know what they did.”
“Alright,” I nodded. I hadn’t expected our conversation to take such a serious turn after the lighthearted teasing from earlier, but I was willing to listen if she needed to get this off her chest.
“The three of us flew down to Jamaica,” she sighed. “All of my family was there. I was so happy, thinking they were there to celebrate me being one of the first in my family to graduate from college. My parents led me to a house I’d never been to and said, surprise! It was my wedding day, and this would be my new home from now on.”
“There was a man there, probably twice my age,” she went on. “My parents told me he was going to be my husband. I wanted to say no, but I couldn’t speak. Everyone was looking at me, smiling and acting like this should be the best day of my life, but it just felt like a nightmare. All of my family members kept coming up to me and congratulating me, talking about how happy they were for me, and I just kept smiling and pretending like everything was okay. I don’t know why I did that. I supposed I was just overwhelmed at the moment. It’s hard to say now what was going through my mind at that moment.”
She looked down at her hands. “Eventually, I managed to find a quiet moment with my parents, and I demanded that they take me back to the airport. My mother told me to stop being selfish, and then my father burned my passport right in front of me. They said they’d already used most of their life savings as my dowry and that I couldn’t leave them penniless. I couldn’t believe what was happening. None of it seemed real. I kept expecting to wake up and realize it was all just a crazy dream, but of course, that never happened. After that, they made sure I was never left alone, even for a second. They knew I would have tried to run if given the opportunity.”
“How did you get away?” I asked. “Obviously, you did. You’re sitting here right now.” Patel smirked at me in a morbid way that I’d only ever seen her do to suspects.
“That night, some of my cousins were helping me get dressed for the ceremony, but they were called away. They must not have known they weren’t supposed to leave me alone. The moment they left, I took a pen from the room I was getting dressed in and headed toward my soon-to-be husband’s room. He was surprised to see me. I thought I would make one last effort to appeal to him, and I told him that I didn’t agree to the marriage. He didn’t care.” She closed her eyes and grimaced as she recalled the memory of what happened that night. “He became angry and tried to ‘claim what was his,’ as he put it. So I stabbed him.”
“With the pen?” I asked, my eyes wide with surprise at her confession.
“Yes,” she nodded. “I didn’t have the training I do now, so the moment he tried to grab me, I just started swinging at him wildly. Then I strangled him with my own veil until he was unconscious. After he’d finally stopped moving, I searched his room for the money my parents had given him and took everything that I found. Then I went back to the room I’d been in before, and I set the house on fire with the same candle my father had used to burn my passport.”
“You set the entire house on fire?” I asked.
Patel nodded, and rather than remorseful, she looked pleased with herself.
&
nbsp; “I needed a distraction,” she shrugged. “I knew they’d come looking for me as soon as they found out I’d knocked the groom unconscious. And it wouldn’t go well for me if they did. I climbed out of a window while they were busy trying to deal with the fire, and I used the money I stole to get a taxi to the United States Embassy in Kingston, Jamaica. I was lucky that I’d gotten my citizenship while I was studying in the US. If I hadn’t, they wouldn’t have been able to help me. I ended up going back to the United States and got myself a small apartment using the money I’d taken. I haven’t spoken to my parents since, and I’d honestly prefer to keep it that way.”
“Damn,” I muttered as I thought about everything she’d just revealed to me. “I had no idea. I can see why you’d be reluctant to go back. Does Wallace know?”
“No,” she shook her head. “No one does, besides you now. I don’t really like talking about my past, so all he knows is that I spent a lot of time in Jamaica and the other Caribbean islands in my youth. Besides, you said it yourself. I can’t let my fear of seeing my parents affect my ability to do my job. I’d be a pretty sorry excuse for an agent if I did that.”
“Well, thanks for telling me,” I replied. I felt a little honored that she’d chosen to share her story with me of all people, and now I knew what kind of headspace she was in. It was no wonder that she sympathized so much with the kids, considering she too had been sold against her will. It must have all been very personal for her.