Kingston Kidnappings (What Happens In Vegas Book 3) by Matt Lincoln (great book club books .txt) 📗

could contact if they suspected that a child was a victim of human trafficking. According to the pamphlet, the organization was based out of Las Vegas and had been running as a non-profit for five years. I took the pamphlet downstairs and left the house just as Naomi was returning from across the street.

“What’s that?” Charlie asked as he walked away from Finch and over to where I was standing.

“A pamphlet I found in the Weaver’s bedroom,” I responded as I handed it to him. “It’s all about recognizing the signs of human trafficking and giving advice on what you should do if you suspect someone might be a victim.”

“They might have been using it to stay under the radar,” Charlie grimaced. “They learn what people are looking out for so they can adapt and make sure they don’t get caught.”

“How vile,” Naomi sneered. “They would really go to such lengths to keep a child prisoner.”

“Where did you go?” I asked.

“I was interviewing the neighbors,” she responded. “Or trying to, anyway. Only one person answered the door, and what she told me really wasn’t good.”

“What did she say?” I asked. Naomi looked around and leaned in closer to Charlie and me before answering.

“She said that the Weaver’s weren’t the only ones she’s noticed behaving unusually,” Naomi explained. “In fact, she implied that half of the neighborhood has been acting strangely, and she specifically pointed me toward the house two doors down.”

“You think the neighbors are doing this too?” Charlie asked.

“It’s possible,” Naomi nodded. “I think we should speak to the couple living in that house and see what they have to say.

“Let’s go then,” Charlie urged. The three of us made our way down the street and to the house that Naomi had pointed out.

“Mrs. Bradshaw,” Naomi called as she banged on the door. “This is MBLIS. We need to have a word with you.” For a few seconds, there was only silence. Then, we heard a short, high-pitched scream that ended suddenly as though it had been stifled.

We exchanged concerned looks, and a second later, Charlie was stalking forward to pound on the door with his fist.

“Open up, or I’m gonna kick the door down!” Charlie yelled.

Now that we’d heard what sounded like a child screaming, he was perfectly within his rights to enter the house without permission. He reared back as if to make good on his threat, but before he could, the door cracked open a few inches, and a woman peered out at us. Her bleached blond hair was pulled up into a bun on the top of her head, and she was wearing such a thick layer of makeup that her face looked as if it was made out of clay.

“I’m so sorry,” she moaned in a gratingly phony voice. “I was just watching a scary movie. It was so loud I could hardly hear you knocking.” Before I could call her out on how obviously fake her story was, Charlie shoved her aside and pushed the door open. “Don’t you touch me! You can’t just barge in here!”

“Be quiet,” I told her. “And don’t move. You guys search the house. I’ll stay here with her.” It was irritating listening to her outraged exclamations when it was clear that she was hiding something. I was itching to search the house as well, but someone needed to stay behind to make sure she wouldn’t try to run or attack us in retaliation.

Just a few feet away, still within sight of the entryway where the woman and I were standing, Naomi came to a stop in front of a hallway door. She leaned down and pulled at something that was sticking out of the bottom between the bottom of the door and the floor. She yanked and managed to pull a small cloth doll from the small space.

“Unlock this door,” Naomi commanded the woman.

“Absolutely not,” Mrs. Bradshaw bristled. “This is my private home! You can’t just start rummaging around!”

“Fine,” Charlie sighed. “Stand back, Patel.” Naomi moved away from the door and behind Charlie, who then shot two bullets into the doorknob, blasting it off of the door. Mrs. Bradshaw screamed at the noise, but Charlie ignored her and pulled the door open. From this angle, I couldn’t see what was inside the closet, but I couldn’t leave Mrs. Bradshaw unsupervised. I craned my neck around to get a better look and nearly gasped with shock when Naomi pulled a child-sized cot and blanket out of the closet. She dropped the items on the floor beside the closet and reached back inside to pull out a few more small toys and a water bottle.

“Do you have children, Mrs. Bradshaw?” Naomi asked.

Mrs. Bradshaw’s mouth gaped open and closed like a fish.

“No, those are for when my nephew comes to visit,” she finally sputtered.

“Your nephew?” Charlie reiterated sarcastically. “This little pink handmade doll is for your nephew? Why was the door locked? You think someone’s going to try to steal the crummy plastic cot that you make your nephew sleep on?”

“I want to see a warrant!” Mrs. Bradshaw yelled as her face grew red.

Naomi just rolled her eyes and moved toward the kitchen to continue searching. Charlie headed up the stairs, and I was nervous that I couldn’t see either of them anymore.

“Oh, my word!” Naomi yelled from the kitchen, and I swung my head around toward the sound instinctively. As I did, I heard a metallic jingling, and I turned my gaze back toward Mrs. Bradshaw. I only had a second’s warning before her hand came down across the left side of my face, and I felt a sharp, stinging pain alight on my cheek.

I brought my hand up to my face, and it came away wet with blood, but I had to ignore it for now. Mrs. Bradshaw had taken off out the door in the few seconds I was distracted, and I needed to catch her. Fortunately, she wasn’t as fast as I was, and I was