Glacier Highway

Chapter 3

After leaving Agent Julion and the woman, Jen walked toward her office in deep thought. What had that been about? Why would someone kidnap a woman? She had heard there was a lot of human trafficking but had never given it much thought. Could this be something like that?

She pulled out her key and unlocked the door. Mountain Rentals it read on the door. She stepped into the office. It was a large room with two cherrywood desks, with a phone and computer screen resting on top of each. To the side was a waiting area with a white leather couch and loveseat, a maroon high-backed chair, and a coffee table with magazines on it. The front of the office faced the street. There were three large windows to look out.

Mountain RentalsJen’s Nana had owned the business. Jen inherited it when she died almost two years ago. It was a long- and short-term rental place for properties. Some were residential, and some were for short-term vacation rentals. It had been sad to come home with Nana not there, but she was thankful for the business her grandmother had left her. When she first heard that she had inherited it, she hired an office manager, who ran it while she was gone. When Jen got back into town, she looked over the books and the business and found out the manager had been doing a little skimming, so she fired her. Jen decided to go ahead and run the office for now until she decided what she wanted to do, and then she could look for another manager. In the meantime, it gave her an income and something to do and afforded her flexible hours.

She sat down at the desk and listened to her recorded messages as she powered on her computer. She returned calls and emails and arranged for repairs on a couple of rentals. Only once did her mind drift back to Agent Z.

She went to her computer and started looking for more information about human trafficking. She was surprised to learn that an estimated twenty to forty million people were victims of modern-day s*****y. Women and girls made up 71 percent of those, and 29 percent were men and boys. There was an estimated $150 billion profit each year. Another $99 billion in profits were estimated for commercial s****l exploitation. It was estimated that fifty thousand people were brought into the US each year, mostly from Mexico and the Philippines. Others were sold to people outside of the United States.

It appeared the women and children were snatched and transported in small groups to various distribution centers. Some were auctioned off; others were snatched because a particular buyer had requested a certain type. Most often, they were controlled by drugs and fear.

Jen shivered. She could not even begin to imagine how terrible it must be for the victims. She pulled up one of the names of the agencies that were working with victims that had been recovered and sent a hundred-dollar gift. She knew that wasn’t enough to do much good, but it was a start.

Jen sent up a prayer for the victims and asked God to show her ways that she could effectively help them.

Jen worked the remainder of the day on contracts and billing. It took her only about one day a week to do most of the office work. She decided it was time to go home. She shut down her computer and turned on the answering machine. When she stood, CD jumped up, eager to leave.

Jen’s home was an old two-story house. It sat in the middle of an acre of land. The front had a large driveway and then grass with various flowerbeds around the perimeter. The backyard was large and backed up to a grove of trees.

Jen walked around the car and let CD out. As she walked toward the house, she noticed that the crocus and jonquils were starting to bloom. Spring had officially arrived. She was looking forward to going out in the yard and getting the flowerbeds ready to plant more flowers.

Jen loved gardening. There was something satisfying about digging in the dirt, planting flowers, and pulling weeds. She did some of her best thinking while gardening. She was planning to create a rock garden with a birdbath in the middle at the edge of her back patio. She sighed, wishing it was the weekend so she could get started.