Chapter Two ~ A Real Police Detective

Wednesday, October 14

By the Wednesday before the trafficking presentation, she’d heard from Brian and Jim. The two seniors were deep into midterm assignments and exams. Jim had a double major in business and secondary education, and Brian was studying for the MCAT as well as facing exams in advanced organic chemistry and epidemiology in the developing world. They sent their regrets but said there was no way they could leave Boston. Honey, however, intended to take the train as soon as her last class dismissed at noon. Trixie couldn’t wait to see her.

Friday was a perfect fall day—chilly but bright and sunny. The fall color had reached a peak, with a riot of yellows, oranges, reds, and maroons. Everywhere, fallen leaves covered the ground or blew up as you walked through them, but the trees were far from bare. Trixie, Mart, and Dan met that afternoon to pick up Honey, who was scheduled to arrive in Sleepyside by four o’clock.

At the train station, Trixie jumped out as soon as Dan put his car into Park. She ran toward the platform, where Honey stood, holding her weekend bag. Shading her eyes with one hand, she scanned the station to see if her friends had arrived.

“Bob-white! Bob-bob-white!” Trixie’s shrill whistle cut through the low rumble of the resting train.

“Trix!” Honey swooped on her best friend with a big smile and a hug. “It feels like forever since I’ve seen you.”

“Same here!” Trixie exclaimed with an equally enthusiastic hug. “Phone calls and email just aren’t the same.”

By this time, Dan and Mart had reached the two girls. After exchanging greetings, Mart took Honey’s suitcase and the four started back to Dan’s car, nicknamed the Blue Goose.

The car buzzed with conversation during the drive back to Westchester Community College in White Plains. “Tell me more about this presentation,” Honey urged after the others had updated her on local events. “I’ve started to hear the term ‘human trafficking’ but don’t know much about it.”

Dan, normally the quietest of the Bob-Whites, spoke up. “A short definition is ‘the unlawful act of transporting or coercing people in order to benefit from their work or service, typically in the form of forced labor or sexual exploitation.’”

Mart added, “The U.S. Department of Justice has filed human trafficking cases under various federal statutes related to involuntary servitude and slavery, but the criminal laws are narrow and patchwork. Comprehensive laws addressing human trafficking are being formulated, but there’s a way to go before legislation will be ready. ”

“All trafficking victims aren’t women,” Dan said. “But a large number are women—or even children.”

Trixie was almost bursting to contribute some of the information she’d found. “In 1994, Congress passed the Violence Against Women Act. Believe it or not, that was the first comprehensive federal law addressing sexual assault and violence against women. Just recently, President Clinton signed an executive order directing the U.S. government to increase efforts to combat violence and trafficking of women and girls, so at least the government is taking action. Jim and I saw something a couple of weeks ago that made me suspicious. It’s possible there may be human trafficking right here in Sleepyside.”

Honey’s eyes widened. “Oh, Trixie! Do you really think so?”

“Jim didn’t think there was anything mysterious,” Trixie admitted. “But I’m not so sure. Between the behavior of Lee Song and her father—I guess he’s her dad—there were a few things that seemed off to me. I can’t wait to learn more from a real police detective.”

She sketched in the details of what had happened at the Blue Dragon as they rode.

The four Bob-Whites entered the college’s auditorium and found seats together near the front. Trixie estimated there were less than a hundred people gathered in the auditorium. The small crowd surprised her for a moment. But she realized the time factor meant many of the nontraditional students would be at work or having supper with their families. She pulled out the notebook she’d brought with her to jot down important points.

“Do you really think Lee Song or her cousins could be victims of trafficking?” Honey’s pretty face looked troubled.

“I just thought her behavior was odd that night.” Trixie lowered her voice a little, hesitant to appear stubborn. “Maybe it really was just what she said—two cousins recently arrived and working at the family business. But she didn’t look at me when she said it. If she—or any of them—is being trafficked, I’d like to be able to help them.”

Just then, the lights dimmed and the dean of students stepped up to a podium on the stage.

“Good evening. I’m glad to see such a good crowd here for what I think will be a significant program, addressing an issue that’s far more common than most of us think. Human trafficking is a serious problem in today’s world, and as we learn more about it, we’re seeing that it’s certainly not a victimless crime.

“It’s an honor to welcome Ms. Gina Calabrese to Westchester Community College tonight. She comes to us from Miami and was instrumental in developing some of the successful outreach procedures that she’ll discuss with us.” The Dean extended an arm to indicate the speaker, who walked out from behind the stage to the podium. The Dean shook her hand and retreated to a seat in the audience at the right side of the stage.

Ms. Calabrese was absolutely gorgeous, Trixie thought. Of medium height, slender, with a cloud of black curly hair, she had a thousand-watt smile and sparkling dark eyes. She was dressed in a cherry-red dress and black heels, but her wrists gleamed with silver bracelets and silver earrings caught the light as well.

She looks a little like Diana, Trixie thought. Diana Lynch, although beautiful and artistically talented, couldn’t be considered a public speaker, though. For the space of a breath, Trixie was disappointed in Ms. Calabrese. But then she began to speak.

“Is there anyone here who can tell me what ‘human trafficking’ means?” Ms. Calabrese glanced around the room. One person in the row in front of Trixie raised their hand.

The Dean walked over to the person with a portable microphone. “It’s when someone is exploiting another person for sex or for labor.”

“That’s right. It’s important to know that a trafficker can have many victims at the same time; in fact it would be unusual if they only had one. Sex work, like prostitution or massage parlors or pornographic movies, is a common way that people are trafficked. People can be trafficked for labor in restaurant work, or less commonly, small businesses that manufacture goods by hand or with machines. Another form of labor trafficking involves farm work or construction. It’s not easy to identify victims of trafficking. Often they won’t admit it even if you ask them directly. Why do you think that is?”

Dan raised his hand and the microphone was brought to him. “Victims owe their trafficker because that person has brought them into the country and given them shelter and food. The traffickers make sure their victims don’t have opportunities to get out on their own and that they don’t have enough money or outside contacts to get away. If they have found a job for the victim, or the victim is working for them, they extort money from the victim as a commission for their services.”

“Yes, that’s exactly right. There are signs you’ll want to be aware of that indicate a person is being trafficked. Here are the basics.” Ms. Calabrese held out a remote control and a screen set up next to her on the stage flashed on. A slide projected onto the screen listed signs of a trafficking victim.

“It may be hard to detect some of these signs when you encounter someone on the street, or even at their job. Some professions will encounter trafficking victims more than others, and may be considered mandatory reporters under law. Mandatory reporting laws vary by state, so it’s important to know the laws in your own state.” She glanced around at different parts of the audience, and Trixie felt sure Ms. Calabrese’s eyes rested on her for a moment. “In many states, including New York, physicians, nurses, and social workers are mandated reporters for human trafficking of persons younger than eighteen. EMTs, psychologists, marriage and family therapists, police officers, mental health practitioners, dentists, and childcare workers are also mandatory reporters for cases of children under eighteen. For trafficking victims over eighteen, there is no mandated reporting. You must have the victim’s consent.”

“But if victims won’t self-report, and they’re over eighteen, how can we help them?” Trixie burst out with the question even though she didn’t have the microphone. Realizing her faux pas, she clapped one hand over her mouth and felt the heat rising from her chest to her hairline. Why do I always have to blurt out what I’m thinking?

Next to her, Honey seemed able to read her mind, as usual. She patted Trixie’s arm in sympathy.

Ms. Calabrese didn’t seem fazed, though. She smiled and asked, “Will you please repeat your question? We need everyone to hear it.”

The Dean brought her the mic, and Trixie repeated her question.

“It can be difficult at times, because these victims often lack other support systems. They may not speak English—or whatever language is commonly spoken in the community—they may not know other people outside their workplace; they’ve often been threatened by their trafficker.” Ms. Calabrese glanced around the room again, focusing on different members of the audience. “What we can do is to let them know there are resources for them, if they decide to seek help. Let’s go over some more signs of trafficking.”

She clicked her remote and another slide popped up on the screen. “This first group of signs refers to labor trafficking. At the workplace, the person may appear to be monitored by someone else. How is this different from a boss keeping an eye on his or her employees? It can be hard to detect. Maybe the person isn’t being paid, or are told they owe money to a recruiter. They don’t have control over their identity documents or passport. Sometimes a domestic worker—a maid or nanny, for example, is forced to work in isolation and may not know anyone outside of the employer’s household except her trafficker. Men may be trafficked as well, but may be more likely to work as harvesters or in building trades, such as roofing or construction work.”

The presentation continued for over an hour. Ms. Calabrese accepted questions every ten minutes or so, and her slides contained toll-free phone numbers and internet websites for anyone seeking further information.

“My time is almost up,” she said as the Dean caught her eye and tapped her watch. “One of the resources I mentioned that you can offer to an adult you believe is being trafficked is small, subtle, and easy for the person to keep on their person or in their purse without arousing suspicion. It’s a simple tube of lip balm with the phone number for the National Human Trafficking hotline printed on the label. They’re available in English and Spanish language versions. In my home state of Florida, we have given out thousands of tubes of lip balm and we’ve had quite a few calls from victims who decided to report their situation. Groups of volunteers make monthly visits to businesses in our area that frequently come in contact with trafficking victims, such as motels and hotels, and to local social services organizations that assist possible survivors.

“I have a bucket of lip balms with me tonight, and you are each welcome to take a few. As an individual, this is a way you can help if you suspect someone is being trafficked. Please don’t try to intervene personally if you suspect a trafficking situation. You may endanger the person you’re trying to help, or even put yourself at risk. Give the person a tube of lip balm, show them the phone number and let them know it’s a free call and confidential.

“Thank you for your time tonight.” Ms. Calabrese clicked to the last slide, which showed the national human trafficking hotline. She hefted a bucket filled with tubes of lip balm and came down from the stage.

Trixie, Honey, Dan, and Mart moved forward with the surge of students, waiting their turn in a long line. Eager to ask more questions, Trixie persuaded her friends to wait until the end of the line. Finally reaching the guest speaker, she again burst out with a comment.

“Thank you so much, Ms. Calabrese. I learned a lot tonight. I observed a situation that made me suspicious, and it’s good to know that child trafficking is reportable without the victim’s consent, but adult trafficking isn’t. That’s something to remember when I speak to the persons involved.” She reached into the bucket and took a half-dozen tubes of lip balm.

“You’re welcome.” Ms. Calabrese smiled, but then her expression went serious. “And remember, don’t try to intervene between a potential victim and his or her trafficker. Assessing the scene and the risk to yourself as a layperson is important. You may be harmed and may even endanger the person you tried to help. Leave that to the authorities.”

“But...” Trixie stopped as Ms. Calabrese raised a hand.

“Believe me, I’ve been there as a police officer and it’s not easy to look the other way when a victim refuses to ask for help. A couple of the most heartbreaking cases I was ever involved with were like that. It was a hard lesson for me. But an adult must give consent before law enforcement can do anything.”

Mart, ever attuned to speech patterns due to his interest in linguistics, spoke up. “Have you lived in Florida long?” he asked. “You don’t seem to have a typical Southern accent.”

“Actually, I spent about fourteen years up and down the east coast while my dad was in the United States Navy,” Ms. Calabrese replied. “A lot of that time was in New York and New Jersey.”

She smiled. “My dad retired when I was fourteen and we moved to Miami, where my mom had relatives. I’ve lived there ever since, but I’ve never really lost the accent.” She laughed lightly. “My husband’s a native Floridian. But he’ll tell you that Miami probably has as many Northerners—maybe more—than Southerners. That’s not even counting the Cubans, Haitians, and other immigrant communities.”

She paused before adding, “We’re staying in a little town about forty minutes away, called Sleepyside, at a quaint old historic inn—the Glen Road Inn.”

“Sleepyside!” Trixie exclaimed. “That’s where we live. How long will you be in town? Do you need recommendations for restaurants, or any local attractions? It’s a beautiful little town. Mart and I,” she indicated her brother, “have lived there our whole lives. Both Dan and Honey used to live in the city, but they’ve been our neighbors for years now.”

“If you’ll be in town for a couple of days, we can recommend some interesting historic sites and our favorite restaurants, Ms. Calabrese,” Honey offered.

“Wonderful!” Ms. Calabrese beamed at her. Trixie thought she’d never seen such a brilliant smile; it tilted up on each end and revealed a row of gleaming white teeth. “And please, call me Gina. We’re actually taking a few days in Sleepyside and then visiting my husband’s old partner in the Bronx for a couple more days. He’s getting my laptop and handouts packed up now. We haven’t eaten dinner yet, so even though it’s late, if there’s a restaurant open at this time of night in Sleepyside, we’d love to eat somewhere you recommend.”

“Gina, we all like the Blue Dragon in Sleepyside,” Mart told her. “If you like Chinese, of course.”

“We love Chinese.” Gina smiled again. “Oh, here comes my husband. Sonny!” She waved at the man who was approaching them from the backstage door. “These students are from Sleepyside, and they’ve recommended a good Chinese restaurant.”

Trixie couldn’t help staring for just a moment. Gina’s husband was strikingly handsome, with dark blond hair streaked with strands the color of ripe wheat. He smiled as he walked toward them carrying the case that presumably held her laptop and pamphlets, and his right cheek was creased with a deep dimple. Dark eyebrows framed a pair of hooded green eyes. He was slim but strong-looking, and a hair shorter than both Dan and Mart, who were each just under six feet tall. He was surely over forty, but moved with the spring of a younger man, and his clothing was pale and summery-looking, despite the crisp fall weather in New York State. Really, there’s nothing amazing about any of his features by themselves , she thought. But the combination... is something else. To distract herself, she pictured Jim Frayne in her mind, and the world tilted back into its normal configuration.

“This is my husband, Sonny Crockett,” Gina said with a quick squeeze of his free hand. “Sonny, these are... sorry, I don’t think I caught your names.”

Honey, with her tactful assurance in any social situation, spoke up. “This is my best friend, Trixie Belden, her brother Mart, and our friend, Dan Mangan.” She glanced from one to the other as she introduced each one. “I’m Madeleine Wheeler, but everyone calls me Honey.” Mart extended his hand and Sonny put down the laptop case to shake hands with the quartet.

“Nice to meet you,” Sonny replied. “My real name’s James, but everyone calls me Sonny. I probably wouldn’t even turn around if someone called me James.” He flashed a grin. “Gina was excited at the chance to speak here. She doesn’t get to come North as often as she’d like.”

Trixie enjoyed listening to his Southern drawl. “I just love your accent,” she gushed. Immediately she felt her face heat. “I mean, it’s so different from the people around here.”

“I get that every time I leave Florida,” Sonny said with another smile. “But you all would fit right in if you were in Miami. We have plenty of people who retire there to get away from the winter weather up here.”

“Gina said you were looking for a place to eat,” Dan offered. “We like a Chinese restaurant called the Blue Dragon in Sleepyside. If you’d rather have a burger, Wimpy’s is a great little burger place that started off as an old railroad car. It’s been around for over fifty years, and about ten years ago they moved into a building, but kept some of the historic old features of the train. They have amazing homemade burgers and fries. The Glen Road Inn itself doesn’t have a connected restaurant, but it’s so close to downtown that a lot of people walk.”

“I thought we’d try out the Chinese place,” Gina said to her husband. “But the burger place sounds fun, and we could check it out tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan, darlin’,” he agreed. “We’re already checked in at the hotel, so we don’t need to go back there first. If you kids don’t have to go straight home, let us treat you to supper since you pointed us to the restaurant.”

“Oh, that’s too much!” Trixie protested. “We couldn’t accept a meal from you. Besides, you haven’t seen Mart eat.”

“Hey! I resemble that remark!” Mart blushed furiously.

“Nonsense!” Gina was matter of fact. “We’ll enjoy the company, and Sonny’s right. You did give us a personal recommendation.”

“Do you need directions?” Dan asked.

“I think we can find it.” Sonny seemed very confident. “Just give me the address.”

“I’m not sure of the number, but it’s on Broadway, in the same strip mall as Wegmans, a big supermarket.”

“We’ll see you there, then. You ready, darlin’?”

“Sure.” Gina waved at the four Bob-Whites and the two Floridians strode toward the exit, Sonny carrying the laptop again.

“What luck, Dan, Honey! We get to eat dinner with a real police detective,” Trixie said, with a little skip to keep up with the taller boys and Honey. Her best friend noticed, and paused for a moment to wait for her.

“Yeah, I hope she’ll talk a little bit about her work.” Dan grinned at her enthusiasm.

“I’m starving!” Mart rubbed his stomach. “Gosh, it was nice of them to offer to buy our dinner.”

“Make sure you don’t eat everything on the table,” Trixie teased.

“Trix! You know I wouldn’t do something so gauche.”

“I know, I was just kidding.” Trixie felt a little embarrassed. In high school, Mart had been known for his appetite and his hollow leg. But since he had seemingly achieved his full growth, he just had a pretty normal appetite for a guy his age—at least she guessed it was normal. “But you know, Gina is so slim, I bet she eats like a bird. There might be plenty of food left over anyway.”

They had reached Dan’s car and he opened the front door for Honey. “Hop in, we don’t want to get too far behind them.” Honey looked around the parking lot, mostly empty since it was the end of the day. “Did you guys even see Gina and Sonny’s car?” she asked, brow puckered in curiosity.

“I saw them get into a sweet black Corvette. He took off like he was in the Indy 500.” Dan turned the key in his own ignition. “I would, too, if I had the chance to drive that baby. But you’ll have to be satisfied with the Blue Goose here tonight. They’ll probably beat us to the restaurant.” He pulled away from his parking spot after all four of them were belted in.

Sure enough, when they arrived at the Blue Dragon, the black Corvette was already parked outside. As they entered, Gina waved at them from a round table near the back wall. Sonny sat with his back to the wall; Gina sat next to him so that each had a full view of the door. Trixie, Honey, Mart, and Dan took seats and waited for a server to bring the menus.

Trixie was a bit disappointed that Lee Song wasn’t working, but she was pretty sure she recognized one of the girls Lee had called her cousins, waiting on the next table. The young waitress finished with the other table and came to theirs, pulling a notepad from her apron pocket as she did.

“My name is Mei and I will be taking care of you,” she said. “May I take your drink order? We have Baijiu, tea, or soft drinks.”

Everyone ordered hot tea, and Mei left menus for them to study while she went to get the tea.

Trixie didn’t take long to decide what she wanted. She would just have her usual order. While the others perused the menu, her mind drifted and she wondered if anyone was sitting at the table behind the floor screen tonight, doing homework or even just waiting for more customers to come inside.

“Mart, will you give her my order? General Tso’s Chicken and an egg roll. I need to use the ladies’ room,” Trixie announced. “Gina, Honey, do you need to use the restroom?” she asked the other females in their party.

“Sure. Sonny knows my order.” Gina stood and followed her to the restroom, while Honey asked Dan to give her order. Trixie made sure to glance at the table behind the screen as they passed by. She couldn’t be sure if it was the same young girl who’d been there on the last visit, but there were two girls tonight, both apparently younger teens. Trixie frowned, still convinced something shady was going on with the business.