by Matt Lincoln
“You’re right,” I nodded, though I still felt unsatisfied. “Let’s go tell Fiona about the website he mentioned. She might be able to find out more from there.”
21
Miranda
“It’s going to be difficult,” Fiona frowned. “I was able to find the website on Atkins’s computer, but the post in question is gone.”
“You can’t recover it?” Junior asked.
“Maybe I can,” she shrugged. “But it might take time. The website is incredibly bare-bones. That makes it difficult to navigate and to use, but it also makes it easier to delete things without leaving a trace. It’s true what they say about something staying on the internet forever once it’s on there, but that doesn’t mean it’ll be easy to find.”
“Okay,” I replied. “Well, not to sound insulting, but have you tried just calling the number?”
“I did think about it,” Fiona nodded. “It’s risky, though. If we decide to take that route, we really only have one shot at it. If we fail and the person realizes what we’re trying to do, all they’d have to do is chuck the phone onto the highway or something, and we’d lose that lead completely. If we do decide to try to trace the call, we need to be sure that we don’t make any mistakes.”
“Maybe we wouldn’t have to be clandestine about it,” I remarked.
“What do you mean?” Junior asked.
“Something that Atkins said to you during the interrogation stuck out to me,” I replied. “He mentioned that the woman who gave him Dajuan seemed concerned about who he was and what his intentions were. This makes me think that either the supplier had a change of heart about who she was selling the kids to, or there was something special about these two kids specifically. Either way, she wanted to vet him to make sure he’d be good for Dajuan, right?”
“Yeah,” Junior nodded. “That does seem to be the case.”
“What if whoever took the little girl is the same as Atkins?” I suggested. “What if they’re just someone who genuinely wanted to help a kid whose mom was trying to sell her off? If we offer them amnesty, they might be willing to cooperate with us.”
“How likely are they to work with us, though?” Fiona asked. “If they were on that website to begin with, they were obviously up to something sketchy. There’s a pretty good chance they won’t want to speak with federal agents.”
“That’s why we’ll offer them amnesty,” I argued. “I know it’s not a perfect plan, but there’s a missing little girl out there somewhere, and whoever’s number this is knows something about the supplier. I say it’s worth trying if it means we’ll be one step closer to solving this.”
Fiona still seemed unsure and looked over to Junior.
“I agree,” he nodded resolutely. “I think we should try calling. Start tracing the call as soon as they pick up, and in the meantime, we can attempt to appeal to the buyer.”
“Okay,” Fiona replied. “I’ll get everything ready.” She opened several programs before connecting her own phone to the computer. “I’ll spoof the number to make it seem like it’s the supplier calling. They’ll be more likely to answer if it’s a number they recognize.”
“Is that legal?” I asked as she pressed the call button.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to hear the answers to,” she responded curtly. The three of us waited with bated breath as the line rang once, twice, then three times. It seemed as though no one was going to pick up, and just as I was about to sigh in resignation, there was an audible click as the call connected.
“Hello?” A tiny voice cracked to life through the line. It wasn’t the voice of a woman or a man, but distinctly that of a child’s. I saw Fiona’s eyes go wide as she heard the little girl’s voice, and I knew that my expression must mirror hers.
“Hi,” I stuttered, collecting myself quickly and thinking fast. “My name is Miranda. Can I ask what your name is?” I spoke slowly, trying to buy as much time as possible for Fiona to trace the call. As soon as I spoke, she began furiously typing away at her keyboard.
“I’m Lakshmi,” the girl replied, and I heard Junior gasp.
“That’s such a pretty name,” I smiled. “Do you have a sister named Kamya?”
“Yes!” The little girl exclaimed, her voice rising in volume. “Is she there?”
“No, sweetheart,” I frowned. “I’m sorry. But I know where she is. I can take you to see her, but first, I need to know where you are so I can come to get you.”
“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” Lakshmi replied, suddenly sounding much less excited. “I’m not supposed to use the phone. They’ll get mad at me if they find out I touched the phone.”
“It’s okay, Lakshmi,” I assured her as I desperately tried to think of how to keep her on the line. “How about we play a game of hide-and-seek?”. Even if I wasn’t able to get any pertinent information out of her, I only needed to keep her on the line long enough for Fiona to trace the call.
“Okay,” Lakshmi responded.
“Perfect,” I replied. “I’ll start counting, so you go and hide somewhere with the phone, okay? Stay very quiet and don’t hang up.”
“And then you’ll come to find me?” she asked. I swallowed painfully at the question.
“Yes, I’ll come to find you,” I promised. “Are you ready? Go and hide now, okay?” I could hear tiny footsteps through the line as Lakshmi scampered off to follow my instructions.
“Fiona, how close are you to tracing the location?” Junior asked.
“I’m going as fast as I can,” she mumbled, her eyes glued to the monitor in front of her. “Just a little longer.”
“Uh-oh,” Lakshmi’s small voice came through the phone’s speaker.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I think they heard me,” she whispered, and my entire body went rigid. “I can hear them coming. I need to go now.”
“No, wait,” I called frantically. “Just a little longer, okay, Lakshmi? My friend is trying to find you right now. Just stay quiet and keep the phone with you.”
“I’ve got it!” Fiona declared. “The call’s coming from a residential area about an hour south of here.”
I was about to inform Lakshmi that we’d be there soon, but before I could speak, I heard a muffled clattering coming from the phone.
“Lakshmi?” I asked nervously.
The next moment, I heard the sound of a man’s voice, and then a short, high-pitched scream before the line went dead.
I couldn’t move. The seconds seemed to stretch on ceaselessly as every worst-case scenario flashed through my mind.
“Miranda!” Junior’s voice finally snapped me back to reality. “We have to go, now!”
I nodded numbly before getting up out of my chair and following Junior out of the office at a run. Still, no matter how quickly we moved, Fiona had said that the house she’d traced the call to was an hour away. A lot could happen in an hour. I only hoped we would make it there before anything did.
22
Naomi
After getting Wallace up to speed on everything that had happened on our first day, Charlie and I had headed to the hotel to get some rest. By that point, we’d been awake for over twenty-four hours, so we both went to bed early. The next morning, I was feeling refreshed and ready to begin the day.
Aaron Brown, the suspect we’d arrested the day before, had revealed to us that a child pick-up was scheduled to take place that evening in one of Kingston’s most dangerous slums, Trenchtown. Later today, we would be meeting with a police officer before heading to the location, but until then, we had the day free. As I got dressed that morning, I wondered how I should spend the free time.
I opted for a silk t-shirt and a pair of linen shorts, rather than my usual ensemble of pressed button-downs and skirts. I also swapped my high heels for a more sensible pair of flat boots. As much as I enjoyed dressing in a feminine yet professional style, Charlie’s comment about my choice of footwear the day before had been right.
There was a good chance that I might find myself engaged in a physical confrontation while on this case, especially considering we would be heading into Trenchtown this evening. The temperature was also rather balmy, which would make running around in normal office wear both impractical and uncomfortable.
As I finished pulling my hair back into a sleek bun, I considered going to visit some of my family. Not my parents, obviously, since they weren’t even on this island, and I wouldn’t have wanted to see them even if they were, but perhaps some of my cousins. I’d cut all contact with everyone the day I ran away, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss some of my family.
I could invite Charlie to come with me as well. He’d mentioned something on the plane about getting a souvenir for his niece, Amber. I could show him around Kingston and help him pick something out, and then we could stop by one of my cousin’s homes for a quick visit. I was a little ashamed to admit it, but I’d honestly feel more comfortable having Charlie come with me. If nothing else, it would give me a convenient excuse to leave if things got to be too much.
With that in mind, I left my hotel room and knocked on Charlie’s door, directly across the hall from mine.
“Yes?” he answered as he opened the door.
“Did you have any concrete plans for the day?” I asked. “Before tonight’s mission, I mean?”
“Not really,” Charlie shrugged.
“How would you like a tour of Kingston?” I asked. “I was thinking of taking advantage of the free time we have to have a look around at my old haunts. I thought you might want to come along as well.”
“Sure,” Charlie shrugged after taking a few moments to mull it over. “Don’t have anything else to do.”
“Well, don’t sound so excited about it,” I remarked sarcastically.
Charlie just chuckled in response.
“Sorry,” he smiled sheepishly. “Did you have anywhere specific in mind?”
“Actually,” I replied as we walked down the hallway. “I thought I might show you around the street markets. You mentioned wanting to get something for your niece, right? The markets have a lot of traditional and handmade things. Anything you find there is bound to be nicer than something mass-produced from one of the more touristy shops.”
“Sounds fun,” Charlie responded, though he didn’t sound particularly enthusiastic. I’d heard both Miranda and Junior poke fun at how uninterested he tended to be about exploring while he was on missions, and I could see now what they meant. Still, he’d agreed to come with me, so perhaps he was starting to enjoy sight-seeing a little more.
The hotel was located in the center of Kingston, surrounded by beautiful, huge, colonial-inspired buildings. One of the most peculiar and entrancing aspects of Kingston, Jamaica was the fact that the architecture of the city changed dramatically and suddenly from one area to the next. You could stand in the city square surrounded by massive marble buildings, and just a few steps away, you’d be in a residential area consisting of cramped, colorful apartment buildings and shacks. Just a few more steps, and you’d be in a bustling business center full of restaurants and offices. It was a cornucopia of difference that was at once bewildering and splendid.
Now that we were on the street, however, I wasn’t sure where we should go. It had been a decade since I’d been in Kingston, and although muscle memory had kicked in enough that I had a vague notion of where everything was, there was no doubt things had changed in the time I’d been gone. If we were looking for a gift for a little girl, something like a toy would be the best bet.
Ideally, I would have liked to show Charlie around the Craft Market in Montego Bay. That market was enormous, and he’d surely be able to find something for her there. Unfortunately, Montego Bay was about two hundred kilometers away on the other side of Jamaica, and it would probably take us the better part of three hours just to get there. That surely wouldn’t leave us enough time to look around properly before we’d need to start heading back for the mission.
The next logical choice might be the Coronation Market, which was one of the largest street markets here in Kingston. It was huge, spanning several acres and constantly crowded with both locals and tourists. However, while the Coronation Market was a sight to behold and an experience that I would recommend Charlie have if we had the time later, the majority of the market consisted of foods, textiles, and other common household goods. It was unlikely that we would find a suitable gift for his niece there.
“Let’s head down to Orange Street,” I suggested finally, before taking off in that direction.
“Okay,” Charlie agreed with a noncommittal shrug as he followed me down a wide street lined with colorful, if somewhat dilapidated-looking, buildings. “What do they have there?”
“A little of everything,” I answered. “I thought about heading to one of the bigger covered markets, but I’m not sure we’ll find what you’re looking for there. Orange Street is a little less organized. Most of the people in that area just set up stalls out in the open, rather than having a specific covered building to do it in. We can pass through the Parade on the way there.”
“What’s the Parade?” Charlie asked as he glanced around at all the makeshift stalls set up along the street.
“It’s the colloquial name for William Grant Park,” I explained. “Vendors set up stalls in South Parade. Or sometimes they just lay their wares out on the ground. It’s actually known as ‘Ben Dung Plaza’ because of that. People have to ‘bend down’ to look at the things the vendors are selling.”
“I noticed that earlier,” Charlie remarked curiously.
“Noticed what?” I asked.
“Some words in Patois sound a lot like English,” he responded. “Like ‘ben dung’ and ‘bend down.’ And I noticed that a lot of the people here seem to speak pretty good English.”
“English is Jamaica’s official language,” I informed him. “That’s one of the reasons it’s so popular as a tourist destination. There’s really not a language barrier unless you visit some more remote areas. Patois is really just a Jamaican dialect of English, with a few other languages mixed in. It’s different enough that it can be difficult for people who aren’t familiar with it not to understand it, though.”
“That’s true,” Charlie nodded. “I definitely couldn’t catch most of what you were saying when you were speaking with Kamya.”
“There are some people who tend to speak more regional Patois than they do English,” I explained. “Those people also tend to be more impoverished with less access to education. It makes sense that the traffickers would specifically target children from those areas. Kamya was more used to speaking Patois than English, so it was difficult for her to communicate with people who only spoke American English.”
“Like speaking to someone with a really heavy accent,” Charlie surmised. “There were a couple of times back in Japan where I had to focus to catch what people were saying to me, even though they were speaking in English. I can see how she’d get frustrated easily trying to communicate and not having people understand her.”
“Exactly,” I nodded. “Anyway, the Parade is just up ahead. There’ll be more variety there than there is here on the side streets.”
“Lead the way,” Charlie shrugged. If I hadn’t been used to him by now, I might have thought that he was bored or annoyed. As it was, I was fairly certain that he just wasn’t the type of man that wore his heart on his sleeve. Still, it was a little disconcerting not getting any feedback from him.
As we got closer to the Parade, the crowd became denser and denser. All along the edge of the street, vendors were standing in storefronts and behind stalls, calling out to us in an attempt to get our attention. It was a little overwhelming to have so many people trying to sell us things, but at the same time, it felt like home.
“Oh, look at these!” I exclaimed as I approached a stall where a man was selling hand-carved jewelry made of driftwood and semi-precious stones.
“They’re beautiful, ri
ght?” The man behind the stall asked. “Here, try them on.”
“No, not for me,” I refused. “Charlie, do you think she would like something like this?”
“I don’t know,” Charlie huffed skeptically, raising an eyebrow. “She’s turning five. I’m not sure how interested in jewelry she is, yet.”
“For a little girl?” the man asked as he reached for something under his stall. “Not a problem. I have bracelets too. See? Unicorn, teddy bear, dolphin. It’s cute, right?”
I leaned forward to inspect the box of bracelets the man was presenting to us. The bracelets actually were pretty cute. An elastic string was looped through a series of small wooden balls with a carved charm on one end.
“They are nice,” I agreed. “What do you think, Charlie?”
I turned to look at him, but he still seemed unconvinced.
“No thanks,” he replied flatly. “We’ll keep looking.”
“No problem, no problem,” the vendor nodded. “If you change your mind, come back, okay? I’ll give you a good deal.”
I smiled at the man before leading Charlie further down the street. The further we went, the denser the crowd became as they swarmed around the stalls and little shops. There were a lot of tourists here too, admiring the handcrafted goods and sampling the local street foods.
“He seemed pretty nice,” Charlie commented as we weaved through the throngs of people. “Considering we didn’t actually buy anything.”
“Most people in Jamaica are,” I smiled. “Not all of them, of course. We wouldn’t be here if that were the case. But still, I’d argue that the majority of the people here are fairly kind and welcoming.”
“Sounds pretty nice,” Charlie chuckled. “I’m not surprised so many people head down here to vacation.
“It is nice,” I smiled wistfully. “For the most part, anyway.”
We continued our way through the streets of Kingston, past brightly colored buildings in shades of red and yellow. All along the way, people had products of every kind laid out on blankets and stalls, and there was a joyful, friendly feeling in the air.
