I frowned as I mulled over everything she had just told us. I hadn’t understood what Kamya and Naomi had been saying, but I could tell from the translator's shocked expression as she listened to the story that it hadn’t been good. We were now standing outside the police station’s break room, discussing everything that the little girl had shared with Naomi. As I looked through the small glass window at the girl, it appalled me that people could do something so horrifying to a child and that there were apparently more out there.
“We should get to the crime scene,” Junior nodded. “Wallace called and said that the police have cordoned off everything and are waiting for us at the Weavers’ house.”
“Let’s go,” I urged.
The three of us filed silently out of the police station and back into the car. The drive over to the crime scene was quiet and tense as each of us went over the details of what Kamya had said in our heads. The silence became so stifling that I felt a wave of relief when we made it to the Weaver’s home, which was blocked off with bright yellow police tape.
As I stepped out of the car, I took a look up at the house. It was an impressive, two-story Victorian-style home with a manicured lawn and white picket fence. The surrounding houses were all similarly imposing and revoltingly charming. Frankly, I thought it was creepy.
“Agents Chapman, Hills, and Patel, I assume?” A police officer asked as he stepped out of the house and approached us.
“That’s us,” I confirmed.
“Great,” the man replied. “I’m Detective Finch. As soon as we heard that this was a possible case of human trafficking, we stopped everything we were doing. Didn’t want to damage or move anything before you got here.”
“That was helpful, thank you,” Junior responded.
“Of course,” Finch nodded. “Well, go in. I’ll be out here if you need me.”
“Thanks,” I answered before leading the way inside.
The smell of blood hit me as soon as I walked through the doorway. Just a few feet away, a body that I assumed belonged to Mrs. Weaver was splayed out across the ground. Several feet behind her, Mr. Weaver was lying on the kitchen floor. Both of their heads were caved in and bloody.
“Geez,” Junior sighed as he crouched down to examine one of the bodies. “I can’t believe that tiny little girl did this.”
“It’s amazing what fear and desperation can do to a person,” I scoffed as I stepped through the foyer. “Kamya had been held here against her will for half a year, and she had no idea where her little sister was.” I knew that as a federal agent, I should never be glad when someone died, even if that person was a criminal. Regardless, I couldn’t help how I felt seeing the bodies of these two monsters who would rip an innocent child away from her family and force her into slavery.
“Kamya said they would make her stay ‘downstairs,’ right?” I asked as I came to a door off the kitchen that was slightly ajar.
“Yes, why?” Naomi asked as she walked up beside me. “Oh, no.”
“Yeah, I think so,” I nodded as I pushed open the cellar door. The staircase beyond It seemed to descend into total darkness. I flipped the light switch on before heading down. The cellar was unfinished, with exposed insulation in the walls and a cold, concrete floor. As I reached the bottom of the stairs and rounded a corner, I stopped dead in my tracks. At the end of the room, tucked between several bins of old Christmas decorations, was a tiny mattress and a small pile of toys.
“For goodness’ sake,” Naomi growled with disgust. “It wasn’t bad enough that they’re using her as free child labor. They wouldn’t even give her a decent place to sleep? It’s freezing down here! And that’s in the middle of summer.”
I just shook my head, unable to find any words.
“I wish they were still alive,” Naomi remarked as we ascended the stairs back up to the kitchen. “If only so they could tell us how Kamya got here.”
“Aside from the mattress and the toys, there’s no sign any children live here,” I replied as I looked around the house.
“That’s probably the way they wanted it,” Naomi sighed. “Kamya mentioned them hosting a party. It certainly wouldn’t do for the neighbors to catch sight of something out of the ordinary and start asking questions.”
“That’s true,” I replied. “There are locks on all the windows and doors, see? That explains why she had to smash open one of the windows.”
“That poor thing,” Naomi frowned. “I can’t imagine how she must have felt.”
“Well, we’re going to make whoever kidnapped her feel a lot worse,” I snapped. “Where’s Junior?”
“He said he was going to check out the upstairs,” Naomi informed me. “See if he would find anything on the Weavers’ personal devices. I’m going to go speak to the neighbors. If they were here, they might have seen something without even realizing it.”
“Okay,” I replied. “I’m gonna go see if Detective Finch found anything we might have overlooked.” We both left the house, and while Naomi took off for the house next door, I walked over to speak with Finch.
“Awful in there, isn’t it?” Finch asked as I approached.
“Which part?” I asked. “The dead bodies or the bare mattress in the basement?”
“All of it,” Finch grimaced, shaking his head. “To think that someone would do a thing like that. And what that kid must have gone through to get to that point. Never seen a thing like it.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Did you get a chance to speak to the neighbors or learn anything else about the Weavers?”
“I did, a little,” Finch shrugged. “There were a lot of lookie-loos hovering around when we first got on the scene. According to everyone we spoke to, the Weavers were model citizens. Mr. Weaver is apparently buddies with the guys down at the
