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

The drive over to the Hope for Children headquarters didn’t take very long. It wasn’t on the strip, but it was close enough that the traffic was still heavy as cars filtered in and out of the center of the city. It was located in a small, unassuming, two-story office building that actually looked deserted aside from the long sign over the door that read: Hope for Children.

“Seems a little run down,” Charlie remarked as we got out of the car.

“It is a non-profit,” I remarked, though I too was less than impressed by the building’s facade. “Perhaps they actually take that moniker seriously and devote all of their money to their cause. The fact that child trafficking isn’t a well-publicized issue probably doesn’t help matters.”

We walked up to the entrance, and it surprised me to find the door locked when I tried to open it.

“The lights are off,” Charlie noted as he peered into one of the windows by the door. “Maybe they’re closed.”

“I hope we didn’t just waste our trip here,” I frowned, and a moment later, my hopes were answered when a short, plump woman walked into view of the door. She noticed us standing outside and quickly scurried over to unlock the door.

“Oh no,” she gushed as she pushed the door open. “Have you been waiting long? I’m sorry about that. We almost never get anyone coming in, and I just feel safer having the door locked when I’m here on my own.”

“It’s perfectly understandable,” I assured her as she stepped aside to let us enter. The inside of the building was furnished with cute and cozy looking furniture, and now that we were inside, I could see lights on at the other end of the building. “Are you Ms. Sandra Baker?”

“That’s me,” the stout woman answered with a warm smile. The lines around her eyes crinkled as she did, and her bushy brown hair framed her round face in a way that made her look friendly and kind. “And who might you two be?”

“I’m Agent Patel with the Military Border Liaison Services,” I introduced myself as I pulled my credentials out of my bag. “And this is Agent Hills. We were hoping to consult with you about a case we’re currently working on.”

“Does this have to do with the little girl they found in that rich neighborhood?” Sandra suddenly interrupted.

“Yes, actually,” I nodded. “Do you know something about it?”

“I’m afraid not,” she replied sadly. “I just heard about it on the news. Such a terrible situation, isn’t it? It’s such a shame that organizations like ours are so under-funded. It makes it difficult for us to even make a dent in helping children in need.” Just as she mentioned children, I heard a high-pitched laugh and the sound of a child babbling something that sounded like Patois.

“Do you have children here now, Ms. Baker?” I asked.

“Oh, those are my foster kids,” she beamed as she looked fondly toward the sound. “It’s hard to find their parents sometimes once they’re over here. The kids can’t always communicate well, or there’s just no way to track down where the parents are. Most of them end up in the foster care system, which can be so scary for kids who are stuck in a foreign country. I try to do everything I can, including opening up my home for as many as I can until we can send them back to their families.”

“That’s very kind of you,” I replied. Sandra just gave me a weak smile in return.

“As I said,” she shook her head sadly. “It hardly makes a dent. I mean, look at all of those kids you found right here in Nevada. It seems like no matter what I do, there are always more. But anyway, you didn’t come here to listen to me lament my own shortcomings. Is there anything I can do to help you with the case?”

“Did you notice any suspicious activity in or around your organization the past few months?” I asked. “We found one of your pamphlets in the Weavers’ home, and a search of their internet browsing history revealed that they’d visited the Hope for Children website several times in the past. It’s possible they might have had some kind of interaction with your organization.”

“Well, let me think,” Sandra hummed. “I can’t remember anything out of the ordinary. We’ve assisted the police on a few cases, but I can’t remember anything that really stood out, I’m afraid.”

“Maybe one of your employees saw something?” Charlie chimed in.

“We’re mostly volunteer-based,” Sandra informed us. “I only have a couple of employees who run the website and help with accounting and clerical work, but that’s all done remotely. No one really comes into the office aside from myself. I’m so sorry that I don’t have anything better to tell you.”

“It’s alright,” I replied, though I felt disappointed that this was apparently another dead end. “What can you tell us about the human trafficking trade throughout the Caribbean Islands? We have reason to believe that that’s where most of the children were brought here from.”

“Well, it’s difficult to say with certainty,” she frowned. “It’s impossible to get any concrete statistics, of course, considering that it’s an underground business. It certainly does happen, though, in my experience, most cases of modern-day slavery are confined to the country itself in the form of unpaid child labor. Cases in which children are actually moved from one country to another are much rarer. There’s much more risk involved, although the reward would be much higher.”

“What do you mean by ‘reward’?” Charlie asked.

“The United States is a much wealthier country,” Sandra explained. “Using a child for free labor in, say, Jamaica, will save someone the cost of hiring a laborer, but selling a child to a rich couple in the United States will earn them a much bigger profit, and quicker to boot.”

“I see,” I nodded. I felt disgusted, but