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

“I just wanted a better life for her!” Mr. Green yelled in response. “Look around you. Do you think I want her growing up around Devon and the rest of that group that’s always hanging around here? What other chance does she have at a decent life?”

“That’s enough,” Patel interrupted harshly, causing both of the feuding adults to fall into silence. “Look at your child. You’re frightening her.”

The little girl had indeed woken up and was looking up at her parents with wide, tearful eyes.

“What matters now,” Patel continued. “Is that we managed to stop the men before they could take her. Fighting about what might have happened is only going to upset her. Focus instead on what you can do to help us ensure that these men are apprehended and unable to take anyone else’s child.”

“What can we do?” Mr. Green asked.

“Tell us how the men approached you,” Patel instructed. “Did they just show up on your doorstep one day?”

“More or less,” the man nodded. “Joy was outside playing. She ran inside and said that there was a man outside who wanted to speak with us. He told us that he was part of a missionary group from the United States who wanted to sponsor children in need. He said he wanted to take her to the US to get an education.”

“Does he live around here?” Patel asked.

“No,” the man shook his head. “I know most of the neighbors. I’d never seen him before.”

“I see,” Patel nodded. She looked as disappointed as I felt. “Was the man who came to your door one of the men who was here tonight?”

“No,” Mr. Green replied. “The man who came the first time was young. He looked like a college student, which was why we believed him. We never saw him again after that first visit. It was always different, much older men. My wife thought it was strange, and she wanted to back out, but I…” the man trailed off and hung his head in guilt. “I told her she was irrational. I insisted we go through with the arrangement.”

“Was there anything peculiar about any of the men who came to your home?” Patel asked. “Anything that might help us identify them?”

“They just seemed like normal men,” Mr. Green shrugged. “I never noticed anything that strange.”

“Their accents,” Mrs. Green suddenly interjected. “They weren’t from Jamaica. I never thought about it until just now when you mentioned it, but they all spoke with a Bermudian accent. My grandmother used to speak that way.”

I could see Patel tense up at the mention of Bermuda.

“Thank you,” she smiled. “You’ve both been very helpful. The police might have some questions for you, but aside from that, you won’t be bothered again.” She turned and left the house, and I followed after her awkwardly. I hadn’t actually said much during the interview with the parents. They seemed comfortable with her, and I didn’t want to mess that up by interfering. I was also admittedly still a little shaken from my run-in with the thugs from earlier.

“We should head to the police station,” she sighed.

“It’s two in the morning,” I responded as I glanced down at my phone to check the time.

“Right,” she shook her head distractedly. “Let’s head back to the hotel then. I want to get out of here. We can head to the police station first thing in the morning.”

“Alright,” I nodded, falling into step with her as she took off at a brisk pace. I could tell there was something on her mind, and I had a suspicion it had to do with the fact that the traffickers were possibly based out of Bermuda. If I remembered correctly, that was where her parents were currently living.

She led the way out of the neighborhood and back toward the center of Kingston, where our hotel was. As we walked, I thought about the events of the night. I felt satisfied that we’d managed to catch one of the suspects but disappointed that one had managed to get away. I also felt both excitement and trepidation about the prospect of traveling to Bermuda and getting one step closer to finding the trafficking group. It was a lot to process this late at night, and I was eager to get to the hotel and get some rest before the next day began.

25

Charlie

The next day I woke up feeling groggy. It had been nearly three in the morning by the time we made it back to the hotel. We hadn’t wanted to push off the interrogation too late in the day, so we’d decided to get to the police station at ten the next morning. It was now nine, which meant I’d gotten less than six hours of sleep, and it was evident by the stinging in my eyes and the faint throbbing in the back of my head.

I’d just need to chug some coffee before setting out. I hated working when I felt this drowsy, but I’d just have to suck it up. One of the suspects had escaped, which meant that we had to move even more quickly now. It was highly likely that he’d report what had happened to his superiors, which meant that we’d lost the element of surprise. Now that they knew we were onto them, we couldn’t afford to waste any time.

I walked into the bathroom to check the wound on my side. It was shallow, more of a scratch than a puncture. It might have been wise to get some stitches, but for now, I’d make do with some gauze and bandages. The bleeding had stopped, and it didn’t hurt that badly, anyway.

Half an hour later, I was dressed and had tossed back two full cups of coffee. My headache had completely subsided by then, and I felt much more alert. I left the room and headed across the hall to Patel’s. The door