by Matt Lincoln
“No problem,” she smiled, suddenly sounding much more cheerful. “Now, it’s your turn. Tell me what’s going on between you and my partner.”
Oh, crap, she was right. I’d agreed to talk as long as she did first, and after that story, I couldn’t back out of it.
“There’s really not much to talk about,” I huffed, suddenly feeling shy. I was confident in my abilities when it came to dating, but I wasn’t the kind of guy who bragged about my exploits. I felt especially uncomfortable sharing details with Patel, who I wasn’t really that close to apart from being coworkers. “We hooked up on a mission we were on a few months ago, and we’ve been getting together occasionally ever since. It’s nothing serious.”
Patel slumped into her chair with a look of dismay.
“That’s it?” She pouted. “After everything that I told you, and that’s all you have to say?”
“I told you there was nothing to say!” I protested.
“How anticlimactic,” she sighed. “So you’re not even dating or anything?”
I was about to say no, but before I could form the word, I remembered what had happened two nights ago. We’d spent hours eating and talking and playing stupid games together. I could argue that we’d only been acting within the scope of friendship, but I certainly hadn’t ever stayed up until the wee hours of the morning watching terrible crime dramas with any of my other friends. I saw something spark in Patel’s eyes, and I knew instantly that I’d hesitated to answer for just a moment too long.
“There is more to it,” she declared as she narrowed her eyes.
“I didn’t say anything,” I retorted.
“You didn’t have to,” she shrugged. “It’s alright, though, I’ll interrogate Miranda about it later. She doesn’t have anything resembling a filter, so I’m sure I’ll get more details out of her.”
“You’re acting like a high schooler,” I commented, though I was glad she would be bugging Miranda instead of me now. This entire exchange had felt so juvenile.
“I won’t deny that,” she smiled. “But I spent my actual teenage years trying to convince my parents not to marry me off to the highest bidder, and we both know how incredibly trying this job can be. I need to have something to take my mind off of things, and if that something just so happens to be meddling in the personal lives of my fellow agents, then so be it.”
I huffed out a laugh. As long as Miranda didn’t care about Patel knowing, I didn’t either. I wasn’t ashamed, and if focusing on that helped her take her mind off her parents, then I was fine with it. I really had meant it when I’d told her that we couldn’t afford to have her be distracted while we were on the case. Letting her mind drift for just one moment could mean the difference between life and death, and I needed to know that she was focused on the case.
Patel spent the rest of the flight gossiping good-naturedly about all of our other fellow agents, and by the time we landed in Jamaica, I felt confident that we were both ready to take on the mission.
17
Junior
“Do you think Charlie and Naomi are getting along?” I asked Miranda as we pulled into the neighborhood that Fiona had sent us to. Apparently, the one number she’d managed to get a legitimate address for was registered under a house here. We were in the northernmost part of Las Vegas, in an area with a peculiar mix of affluent and impoverished homes.
“I hope so,” Miranda laughed. “Charlie can be so standoffish, and Naomi can be kind of crazy. It’s an interesting combination.”
“What do you mean, crazy?” I asked.
“You’ve never noticed?” Miranda asked as she shot me a look. “She, like, gets a kick out of watching people squirm. Usually suspects during interrogations, but I’ve seen her do it to her friends, too. She’s kind of sadistic.”
“Really?” I asked. Naomi had always struck me as very calm and collected. I couldn't imagine her getting joy out of manipulating other people.
“Yeah, she’s kind of nuts,” Miranda shrugged casually. “But that’s probably why we get along so well. Anyway, I think we’re here.”
I looked up at the clusters of palm trees as we drove past. They were a part of Las Vegas that I’d always loved. They made me feel as though I was heading somewhere tropical and exotic, even if I was just driving to work, or in this case, to a suspected crime scene.
As Miranda pulled into the driveway of the house, it surprised me to see that it was one of the more run-down looking ones.
“That’s odd,” I remarked. “So far, all the children have been found in expensive homes owned by wealthy couples, which makes sense considering the cost of getting them probably isn’t cheap. Why would the supplier have been communicating with someone who didn’t have the means to buy one of the kids?”
“Maybe he wasn’t a buyer,” Miranda suggested. “Or it could just be a case of looks being deceiving. The house doesn’t look expensive, but that doesn’t mean whoever lives here doesn’t have money.”
“That’s true,” I nodded as I got out of the car. Miranda did the same, and we both walked up to the front door of the house.
“Hello,” I called as I knocked on the door. There was no answer.
“They might not be home,” Miranda hummed. “No cars in the driveway, and it doesn’t look like any lights are on.”
“Do you want to stake it out for a while?” I asked as I stepped away from the door and took a glance around the neighborhood. “We could wait to see if they come back. Or we could ask the neighbors if they’ve noticed anything strange.”
“That might be a good idea,” Miranda nodded. “Wait, what’s that?” She pointed down the sidewalk to the right of the house, and I turned to look at what she was pointing at. About two houses away, a small boy who couldn’t have been more than three feet tall was making his way toward us.
“That’s a kid,” I answered slowly. The boy stopped a few feet away from us as he realized we were watching him, and his gaze flitted between Miranda and me.
“Hey, cutie,” Miranda cooed as she squatted to get closer to his eye level. “Are you okay?” The boy seemed confused as if he wasn’t sure what to say, and he looked around nervously as though he expected someone else to show up at any moment.
“It’s okay,” Miranda called gently as she held a hand out to him. “Can you tell me your name?”
The boy didn’t answer, but he did walk up and take Miranda’s hand. It was so small in hers, and I guessed that he was probably around six or seven years old.
“What does he have in his hand?” I asked Miranda as I caught sight of a white envelope clutched the boy’s other hand. She eased it out of his grip gently before opening it to reveal a giant stack of dollar bills.
“What the--,” Miranda started to say before we heard the sound of glass breaking and a thump from the direction of the house.
“Stay with him,” I instructed as I pulled my gun out of its holster. “I’ll go check it out.”
I ran around the side of the house toward the back, where I thought I’d heard the sound coming from. I made it to the backyard just in time to see a man pulling himself off the ground to his feet.
“Freeze!” I yelled as I pointed my gun at him. The man turned around slowly, and I could see that one of his legs was bleeding heavily and appeared to have a large shard of glass sticking out of it. “Put your hands up.”
Rather than follow my orders, the man turned and tried to run, but he didn’t make it two steps before crying out in pain and falling to the ground. I stepped forward to cuff his wrists together behind his back before I pulled my phone out to call for an ambulance.
“Is there anyone else in the house?” I asked. The man shook his head, but I decided to do a quick search, anyway. It wasn’t like he’d be able to get far on that leg, anyway.
I could see that one of the windows at the back of the house had been smashed open from the inside, and there was blood smeared around the broken shards. That must have been how the suspect had hurt hi
mself. I wondered why he hadn’t just used the back door, but when I tried to open it, it wouldn’t budge. It felt as though something was blocking it from opening from the other side.
I ran around to the front of the house, where Miranda was still waiting with the kid.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“The suspect tried to escape out the back and cut himself,” I huffed. “He’s handcuffed, but we probably shouldn’t leave him alone. Can you keep an eye on him while I do a search of the house? I’ve already called for police backup.”
“Sure,” Miranda nodded. “What about the kid, though?”
“I’ll put him in the car,” I replied as I leaned down to lift the boy into my arms. He felt lighter than I’d expected him to, and I wondered when he’d last had a decent meal. I carried him over to the car and sat him in the backseat. I didn’t want to leave him alone, but I needed to make sure the house was secure, and I knew he’d be safe inside the locked car.
After I strapped him in with the seatbelt, I took my tablet out of my bag and quickly looked up some kids’ videos before handing it to him. I didn’t know if he could really understand what the cartoon characters in the video were saying since it was in English, but he seemed enthralled enough by the bright colors and music. I shut the door and made sure I locked it before heading back to the front of the house.
I kicked the door in the way Charlie had taught me, and I was surprised by how easy it was to do once you knew just what angle to hit. I’d have to thank him for the tip later, but for now, I needed to focus on the task at hand. As I moved through the house, I realized that the man had been telling the truth when he’d said that there wasn’t anyone else in the house. Once I made it to the kitchen, though, I discovered why I’d been unable to open the backdoor.
The entire kitchen had been converted into a meth lab, and the back door was blocked by several boxes of supplies and tools. Now that I knew what kind of fumes were floating around in here, I quickly pulled the collar of my shirt up over my nose and mouth before heading straight back out the door. I closed it tightly behind me before rounding the side of the house to where Miranda was standing over the suspect, who was still lying on the ground.
“Is the house clear?” she asked as I made my way over to them.
“Yeah,” I responded as I knelt down beside the suspect. “There’s an entire meth lab in the kitchen, too. Do you want to tell us about that?”
The man just shot me a dirty look without responding.
“How about the kid?” I asked. “The one we found walking up to your house holding a wad of cash. You want to explain what that’s about?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the suspect sneered. “I ain’t got any kids.”
“Is that right?” Miranda asked as she grabbed the suspect by the arm and yanked him up into a sitting position. He cried out in pain as the movement jostled the glass embedded in his legs.
“Watch it!” the man yelled.
“Oops, sorry,” Miranda deadpanned without a hint of sympathy in her voice. “It’s interesting that you say you don’t have any kids living in your house because we found phone records that indicate you’ve been in communication with someone who has a history of selling kids. You’re still gonna claim that you don’t know what we’re talking about?”
The suspect’s face went white as Miranda spoke.
“I’m telling you!” the man exclaimed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“So why did you jump out the window?” I asked. “If you really didn’t have anything to hide, why didn’t you answer the door?”
“Are you blind?” The man asked. “Or just stupid? You saw my setup in there. You really think I wanted a bunch of feds finding my lab?”
“Why would you assume we were feds?” I asked as I caught his slip. “I never announced who we were when I knocked. I made sure of it. Why was that the first thing that came to your mind?”
“You know what I think?” Miranda asked as she leaned down to look at the suspect. “I think our friend here saw the news and knew that we were investigating. That’s why he assumed the first strangers he saw on his porch were federal agents.” The suspect began to shake with rage as he realized Miranda had figured him out.
He attempted to lunge at Miranda, but all she had to do was step to the side, and the man fell forward onto his face.
“You’re pathetic,” she sneered with disgust. “I’m gonna go check on the kid.”
“Alright,” I nodded as she turned to walk back toward the car. I could hear sirens in the distance, so I knew that backup would be here any minute. The ambulance arrived first, and I directed the paramedics to where the suspect was still lying face-down in the backyard.
“He tried to flee when he saw us,” I explained as they began to load him into a stretcher. “He cut his leg up pretty badly trying to go out the window. There’s a little boy, too. He’s in the car right now. If he’s been living in the same house, it’s likely that he’s been breathing in the fumes from the meth production.”
“I’ll take a look at him,” one of the paramedics assured me as they finished loading the suspect onto the stretcher. She was an attractive young woman with dark, thick hair and a stern face. I led her back to the car where Miranda was sitting in the backseat with the boy. As we approached, I realized that they were passing the tablet back and forth between them.
“Oh, hey,” Miranda smiled as we reached the car. “This is Dajuan. Dajuan, this is my partner, Agent Chapman.” She spoke into the tablet’s speaker, and a moment later, a mechanical voice came out of the tablet, speaking in a language I didn’t recognize.
“Isn’t that cool?” Miranda smiled. “It’s an app that translates whatever you say into another language. I’m not sure how accurate it is, but it seems to be doing the trick. That’s how I found out this little man’s name.” Dajuan smiled as Miranda ruffled his hair.
“That’s very convenient,” the paramedic nodded. “Would you mind if I used it to speak with him?”
“Oh, sure,” Miranda replied as she hopped out of the car and handed the tablet over to the other woman. The paramedic took the seat Miranda had just vacated and began to speak with Dajuan.
“What did you two talk about?” I asked as we stepped away from the car.
“How he got here,” Miranda replied. “Same story as the rest. A man went to his house and told his parents they wanted to take him to a school in the US. Next thing he knows, he’s running drugs for that scumbag.” She nodded over at where the suspect was lying in the back of the ambulance. “Poor kid says the guy kept telling him he’d help him find his mom as long as he kept making the deliveries.”
“He probably couldn’t run, either,” I frowned. “Where would he go? All alone in an unfamiliar country.”
“At least he doesn’t seem too affected,” Miranda shrugged as she looked back at the car. “Emotionally, at least. There’s no telling what kind of physical damage being inside that house did to him. I’m gonna call Wallace and tell him what we found.”
“Okay,” I nodded as she walked a few steps away to make the call. We’d probably have to wait a day or two to interview the suspect since he was injured and would need to go to the hospital first. I really hoped that Fiona had found something on the other phone number. If this suspect had been using the kid as a drug mule, I couldn’t imagine what any of the other children we hadn’t found yet might be going through.
18
Naomi
I had such a good time talking with Charlie that I almost felt disappointed when we finally landed in Kingston. He didn’t contribute much, but he seemed content to let me prattle on and laughed when he was supposed to. I couldn’t really gossip with anyone else in the office, and although Charlie didn’t reciprocate, he at least paid attention.
The Norman Manley International Airport in Kingston, Jamaica was sweltering hot as we stepped off the plane. Although we kept our plane in a private h
angar back in Las Vegas, we still had to use the international airports of other countries in most situations. The Kingston airport was currently undergoing extensive remodeling, which included the implementation of air conditioning systems. As of that moment, however, those systems still hadn’t been installed. The lack of air conditioning mixed with the massive throngs of people moving through the airport created an unbearably warm and humid atmosphere.
“Damn, it’s hot,” Charlie groaned, vocalizing my thoughts in three succinct words.
“Welcome to Jamaica,” I smiled. “It will actually feel better once we’re outside if you can believe it. The temperature in Jamaica is actually quite moderate and pleasant. It rarely goes above ninety degrees Fahrenheit in the summer, and the sea breezes are lovely. It only feels so warm in here because we’re inside a glass box with so many other people.” I meant that quite literally, as the entire front of the airport consisted of enormous glass windows. It was very pretty to look at, but the sun through the glass created a magnifying effect that only increased the indoor temperature.
As federal agents, we didn’t have to go through security or luggage claim, as we already had our bags with us. I was extremely grateful for these perks as we headed straight through the airport and toward the exits.
It was a relief when we finally stepped out of the airport, and, sure enough, my prediction had been right. It felt much cooler out here, though still warm, and I could smell the salt in the air as the breeze over the ocean carried it over to us.
Now that I was actually standing on Jamaica soil, I could feel butterflies in my stomach. Bright pink and yellow flowers lined the edges of the airport, and in the distance, I could already see the glowing blue of the ocean. I was really here, in the same city where my parents had tried to marry me off ten years ago. I pushed the thought away. I was here to stop the trafficking of children. I couldn’t allow myself to fail them by getting caught up in my own worries.