Free Sneaking Suspicions (The Tharon Trace Mysteries Book 1) by Jan Hinds

right next to the door.”
    “Found it,” Kaid whispered.
    Helm pressed between them and felt for the door knob.  He opened his knife again and said, “My dad locked the keys in the house once and he opened it with his—” click, “—pocket knife.”  The door knob opened in his hand.
    Tharon felt the boys each grab hold of her shoulders as she led them into the hallway.  She moved forward and felt until she found the opposite wall and then side stepped to the right until Helm whispered, “I found the next door.”
    Tharon heard Helm fiddling with the door.  His knife kept striking metal.  She touched his arm and moved his knife away from the door.  “Let me check something.”
    Gliding her hand along the frame of the door, she found a square metal security plate overlapped the frame preventing them from using the knife to open the lock.  She opened her mouth to suggest the glass window when she heard someone unlocking the door from the hallway.  Voices filtered through a room to their right and the flashlight beamed through the glass window revealed a small room cluttered with overturned filing cabinets and rotting papers.
    The children held still and listened to Marty, Burt and Carl arguing.
    “They’re in here ain’t they?” Marty mocked.  “You ain’t got no imagination, Carl.”
    Carl scoffed. “No they ain’t.  I hid ‘em good.  I just heard Cat in here and knew she’d be hungry.  You’re an animal, Marty, leavin’ the poor thing in here with no way to get food or water.”
    Marty sneered. “Serves her right.  That monster bit me last week.  You’re lucky I didn’t slice her open.  The only reason I didn’t was cause then I’d have put up with your whining.”
    Burt broke in. “Shut up, you two!  Forget the stupid cat.  We gotta figure out what to do with those brats.  Carl, we either have to kill them or sell them.  You ain’t gonna like either option so decide now, which will it be?”
    “Burt, we ain’t gonna kill them!  What do you mean sell them?  Who buys kids?” Carl’s voice sounded angry and scared at the same time.
    “If they was babies we’d have lots of places we could sell them.  Even just dump them off at a fire department.  But they ain’t babies.  As long as they’re in this country, then we got a problem.  I’ve heard of a place in New York that’ll take kids.  This guy traffics kids overseas for sex slaves.  He takes boys and girls.  He pays good, too.  The younger they are the more he pays.”
    Kaid and Helm tightened their grip on Tharon’s shoulder.
    Carl seemed wary. “I don’t like the sounds of that.  They’re just kids.  Ain’t there anything else?”
    Marty’s gravelly voice gave Tharon chills.  “I know a guy in Philadelphia.  He takes in stray kids from the streets and sells them to a company that does genetic research.  He figures if they survived the pandemic virus they might have immunity—might be able to stop another virus outbreak.  Takes right good care of them, he does.”
    Burt sounded hopeful. “No foolin’?  Does he pay good?”
    Marty chuckled. “Yeah, he pays real good.  And the kids is fed better than they ever was in their lives.”
    Burt slapped his brother’s back. “There you go, Carl, it’s a right good solution.  Why don’t you go find a box to put Cat and her kittens in?  Marty and I will go call this guy and make the arrangements.”
    Carl’s thudding footsteps retreated back toward the shop.
    “What’s the real story, Marty,” Burt growled.  “You know there ain’t nowhere we can send those kids without worrying about them talking, unless we sends them overseas.”
    Marty chuckled. “That was just for Carl’s benefit.  You ain’t the only one with a brother.  My brother’s in Philly and he do sell kids to a genetics company, but they gets cut up after they finish with them.  My brother has a bit of a fetish though.  He keeps some for himself.  They don’t last as