A trace of a smile lifted the corner of Rosita’s full lips. “Thank you.” Again she spoke in a whisper.
Not knowing why the sudden change and unwilling to test the waters, Kate looked at Tick. “I bet Rosita would like something to eat and drink.” She lifted her brow in question, giving him the opportunity to play host to his new houseguest.
“Of course. I . . . uh,” Tick was at a loss for words.
“Bacon and eggs! Bacon and eggs!” Bird flew into the kitchen, landing on the back of a kitchen chair.
Rosita practically jumped onto Kate’s lap, her big brown eyes full of fear.
“Can you get rid of him?” Kate asked without a trace of what she felt for the feathered creature. She didn’t want Rosita to feel threatened by her voice any more than she wanted her to be frightened of Bird, who was obnoxious at the best of times.
Tick raked a hand through his plastered-down hair. “Sure. Bird, it’s time to go to bed. Go.”
Bird did as commanded, flying into the bathroom and settling on the shower-curtain rod.
“He’s well behaved when he chooses,” Tick offered.
“About that bacon and eggs. It sounds delicious. I bet Rosita wouldn’t mind having an early breakfast.” It was after two in the morning. Kate didn’t know about the others, but she was starving and knew it had been a while since the child had eaten. Her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree when Kate mentioned bacon and eggs.
“Come on, Pete. You can help me cook, while our neighbors help Rosita with her shower,” Tick said.
Kate nodded in agreement. “Great idea. A T-shirt and a pair of boxers would be great, that is if you have any. Clean ones.”
“We have washing machines out here on this here island,” Tick joked.
“Of course you do. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t. I’m tired, and, frankly, I could use a hot meal myself. We have nothing but a microwave over at the shell. If I see another Lean Cuisine, I’ll croak.” She smiled, a genuine smile for the first time that night. When her host smiled back, her heart fluttered against her chest like Bird’s wings. Damn, he was handsome. A little rough, but Kate liked that. A lover of pretty-boy types she was not. Which made her think of Tyler. The ass kisser.
“Did I say something wrong?” Tick asked.
“No, why?”
“You went from one hundred percent smile to frown in point-zero seconds.”
“A bad taste in my mouth, that’s all,” Kate said, suddenly wanting to tell him all about Tyler. How she’d kicked his ass and what a waste of humanity he was, but the timing was off. They had Rosita to consider now.
“I’ll get the clothes.”
“Thanks.”
Kate spoke to Rosita as though the incident with Bird had never happened. “Are you okay with a shower before we eat?” She wanted her to understand that no one would force her to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with.
Rosita looked down at her clothes, which were nothing more than sun-bleached rags.
“Mr. . . . Tick has offered to lend you a T-shirt and boxers for the night, are you okay with that?” Not knowing what the child had been through and if the simple act of showering and changing into fresh clothes would have an effect on her, Kate made a mental list of things she and Sandy had that might be more suitable for the child, things that would make her feel more comfortable. Like a hairbrush and underwear that would be a bit big, but they’d surely fit better than Tick’s.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Whoa, Kate thought. This was the most polite kid she’d ever encountered. She caught Sandy’s gaze. “Why don’t you run over to the shell and get that little blue nightgown that’s too small for me, and maybe some girly underthings for Rosita. And a hairbrush with one of those scrunchies for her hair. Bring the baby lotion, too.”
Sandy caught on. “Great idea. By the time you’re finished with your shower,” she said to Rosita, “I’ll be back.”
Tick stepped into the small living area holding a tattered red shirt and silk boxers with fish on them. Kate raised her brow in question. “Nice. Uh . . . I mean, we’re going to get her some girl things. If it’s okay.” Why did she say that? Of course it was okay.
“Good idea. Now”—he clapped his hands together—“if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the bathroom. I’ve told Bird to go into the kitchen. There’s a bit of . . . well, Bird sleeps on the shower rod. He uses the tub as a toilet sometimes. I cleaned it, but there might be a bit of . . . well, you get the picture.”
Tick let Bird poop in the shower; yeah, Kate got it. “We’ll watch our step,” she said, as he closed the door.
With a caring touch, Kate brushed her hand through Rosita’s snarled hair. “We’ll get you cleaned up in no time, then we can have that bacon and eggs. Deal?”
Rosita nodded.
Inside the small bathroom, Kate helped her out of her raggedy clothes. She turned the shower on, adjusting the water to a comfortable temperature. She found a clean towel and washcloth and placed them on the back of the toilet tank, along with a fresh bar of Ivory soap and a trial-size bottle of dandruff shampoo. Probably a good idea, she thought, as she helped Rosita into the shower. She gave her the soap and shampoo and a thick pink washcloth, then pulled the shower curtain aside, allowing the child a bit of privacy even though she seemed completely comfortable undressing with Kate in the room. Kate swore she heard humming. Poor thing, how long has it been since she showered and had a decent meal? In good time, she told herself. In good time. If and when she found out who left this child out in the middle of nowhere, practically naked and starving, she promised herself she would kick ass and take names later.
Chapter 15
Tyler jolted awake at the sound of his cell phone buzzing on the night table next to him. Looking at the screen, he cringed when he saw UNKNOWN CALLER, UNKNOWN NUMBER. The blackmailer. He pushed the green button.
“What do you want? I told you I wasn’t dealing! Are you . . . stupid or what?” Tyler spit into the phone, then wished he hadn’t. Where this newfound set of balls came from he hadn’t a clue. Must be the incognito thing.
The voice over the phone actually chuckled. “We’re getting brave now, aren’t we?”
Tyler felt his hands start to shake as he raced to the window to see if his blackmailer was watching him from afar. With only a partial view of the parking lot and one side of the beach, he couldn’t be one hundred percent sure who was who. Locals, tourists, beach bums? Drunks and beach bums at this hour of the night . . . or morning.
“Look.” Tyler turned away from the window, yanking the blinds shut. He started pacing, something he did when he was nervous. Right now he was past nervous. “I warned you not to call me again unless you have something to show me, something to let me know exactly what it is I’m buying, or rather, what I’m being blackmailed for. I know there’s activity on Mango Key; what the hell do you think I’m here for? It sure as hell isn’t the weather. I sincerely hope you’ve got something better than that, Mr. No Name Caller, because if not, I’m going to hang up, and you can shove whatever information you think you have straight up your ass! Where the hell are you? How is it you know every move I make?” Tyler demanded, again amazed by his sudden gutsiness.
More laughter. “Really, Agent Tyler, I’m happy to hear you and your cowardly ways have parted. In case you’re curious, I don’t like dealing with pansy asses. And to answer your question, it doesn’t matter where I am. I know what you’re doing and when you’re doing it, but you’ve already figured that out. Smart boy, just like Daddy says.”
If only he could place the voice! He knew he’d heard it before and was sure his blackmailer was male. He needed to arrange a meeting. Yes. That’s exactly what he would do. A plan began to form.
Clearing his throat, Tyler spoke loudly and clearly into the phone. “First, leave my father out of this! He’s unaware of my intentions.” Hell, Tyler thought, I’m unaware of my intentions. He raked a hand through his ever-thinning ha
ir. “Okay, let’s say I’ve suddenly had a change of heart. I want to meet you in a place where we can exchange information. I’ll call my bank and have the money wired to a bank in Key West. If the information you have is really worth a hundred grand, then all you have to do is follow me to the bank, where the money will be placed in your hands. Then we walk away, forget we ever met. Deal?”
Tyler felt proud of himself. He should have thought of this days ago. Plus, he really wanted this blackmail scheme behind him since he wanted to be the agent to bring down the house on Mango Key. If he could drag Jellard, Rush, and Martin down at the same time, then more power to him. Yes! He raised his fist high in the air. He could just see the smile on his father’s face.
When the caller didn’t respond, Tyler felt a moment of panic. For all he knew, this blackmailer could have his head in his sights ready to blow him to hell and back. “Are you listening to me?” Tyler heard the fear in his voice. He felt tears well up and prayed he wasn’t about to lose control of his bladder, something he’d done on more than one occasion.
“Actually, I think that’s a good idea.” The caller finally spoke, and Tyler’s relief was palpable. He knew the bastard was toying with him. Why couldn’t he have Rush’s nerve or Jacobson’s smarts?
“Someplace public. No meetings in the middle of nowhere. I won’t go for that. And I want to know what this big secret is of mine you claim to have,” Tyler said. He wasn’t about to be more of a sitting duck than he already was.
“Of course not, I wouldn’t expect you to. I’ll tell you everything I know tonight at Sloppy Joe’s. Eight o’clock.”
“Wait! No, I can’t—”
“Be there.” The caller said, and disconnected.
Damn it to hell! He’d really screwed up now. Tonight was his big night. The night he was to meet Nancy Holliday at Sloppy Joe’s. Positive that his blackmailer knew of his plans with the woman, the only question was how? Was Nancy Holliday his informant? Had their meeting in the traffic jam been prearranged? He didn’t see how, but he couldn’t pass it off as a complete coincidence either. His father always said there was no such thing as coincidence. He finally believed him.
Tyler glanced at the time. Four in the morning. The blackmailer must be an early riser or a late sleeper. He told himself none of this mattered, but it did. It was information like this that made a good agent. Maybe if he’d figured that out sooner rather than later, he wouldn’t be about to be cashiered out of the DEA. Maybe if he hadn’t bullied his fellow agents around and taken credit for their successes, he’d have a friend, someone who would help him dig his way out of the mess he’d gotten himself into.
Knowing he’d never get back to sleep and not caring because his usual six o’clock internal alarm would kick in the minute he drifted off, he opted to start the day. There was a lot to do before tonight’s meeting.
First, he took a long, hot shower and started to think about getting a cup of coffee. The Southernmost Point Guest House didn’t start serving until six, and he decided that he wasn’t about to wait that long. He could go to the 7-Eleven up the street, but he really didn’t relish the idea. So once he’d dressed in his Florida tourist garb, he decided that after forty years, it was high time he learned to make a pot of coffee.
His room had a minikitchen equipped with a coffeemaker, toaster oven, and microwave, plus a small refrigerator. Taking a bottle of Evian water from the fridge—there was no way he’d put Florida tap water in his body—he poured two entire bottles in the area indicated on the coffeemaker, then stacked the prefilled coffee filter in the basket, closed the back, and pushed the start button. How easy was that? Dad would be proud of him now. A month shy of his forty-first birthday, and he’d just made his very first pot of coffee. And without any help from the housemaid.
And isn’t this just dandy? he thought. No one gives a flying fluke if I made coffee or not. He felt like calling his mother and asking her why she’d allowed his father to screw up his life, why she hadn’t stood up to him. Maybe if she had, he wouldn’t be such a milksop. Maybe . . . maybe nothing. It was what it was, and there was no getting around it. He was a chicken-shit coward, and everyone that mattered knew it. Except Nancy Holliday. Of course, if she showed up at Sloppy Joe’s tonight and saw him, she would soon learn that he wasn’t worth wasting her time on.
Tyler poured coffee into a cardboard cup, then added a packet of powdered creamer and two packs of sugar. He took a sip. Not bad. He contemplated his day as he sipped the hot brew.
First, he wanted to make an unannounced visit to the cop, see if he was on the up and up. If he knew anything about the goings-on at the compound at the tip of Mango Key, Tyler would demand that he turn over the information. If not, he’d pump him for info about his neighbors. Tyler knew the cop had to be aware that there were two good-looking women occupying that aluminum hut. He smiled.
The cop would also be told that he, Special Agent Lawrence Tyler, was in a position to stop them from doing whatever it was they were doing on Mango Key. (True, he knew that he couldn’t fire them since they had never been rehired. His authority over Jellard might be more apparent than real, but there was no way that even Jellard could put them on the payroll without Tyler having been informed.) But the cop wouldn’t care any more than his father did. The governor only liked to talk about his son in terms of where he was employed, not his actual duties. Thank God for small favors, he thought.
After he left the cop, Tyler would make a special visit to Rush and Martin to give them what for. He couldn’t wait to see the looks on their faces when they answered the door.
Yes, today might be a good day after all.
Kate tucked the blanket securely beneath Rosita. Poor kid, she thought, as she turned off the light. The girl had eaten so much she’d fallen asleep within minutes of closing her eyes. Tick had been gracious enough to offer the child his bed for the night. Kate entered the kitchen, where a goggle-eyed Sandy sat staring at Pete while he told stories of his days in the rodeo. Tick, his back to the pair, stood at the sink, rinsing their dishes and placing them in the dishwasher.
Pete stopped talking when Kate sat down across from him.
“Unbelievable. She went to sleep almost immediately, hardly uttered another word. She seems so . . . mature. I did manage to ask her age before she drifted off. She said she was eighteen. It was all I could do to keep my jaw from dropping. I’m sure she was told if asked to say she was eighteen. I think she’s around ten or eleven. Poor child, I can only imagine what’s she’s had to endure. I wonder when she’ll be missed and by whom. Something tells me it won’t be a worried mom and dad.”
Tick dried his hands on a kitchen towel, then sat next to Kate. “When I saw those mattresses scattered around, I knew something other than drug runners had occupied the place. A few weeks ago, when I was jogging, I thought I heard crying but didn’t pay too much attention, told myself it was probably some wild animal. I’ve heard voices in the past and never given it too much thought. Now I know it might’ve been a young girl or girls. I don’t think our Rosita has been there for weeks, at least I hope not. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid, so self-centered that I didn’t see what was really happening at that place.”
“Human trafficking isn’t something your neighbors would advertise,” Sandy pointed out kindly. “At this point, we’re not even sure that’s what happening,” she added. “And aren’t you busy writing books and movie scripts?”
Tick blushed. “Yes, but you’d think as a former police detective, I would be aware of these things going on. I’ve been so immersed in my own little world the past eight years that I truly haven’t paid attention to anything except my own needs.”
Pete spoke up then. “Look, Tick, don’t be so hard on yourself. We’re not positive that’s what’s going on. I’ve been here, too, don’t forget.”
Kate chimed in. “That’s why we’re here. To investigate. As soon as the sun’s up, I’m going to call Jelly. He’s the guy who arranged for us
to be here. If we can get Rosita to talk, she may help solve this. For now, I think it’s best to let her sleep. Speaking of sleep, I think I’ll head back to the shell for a bit of sleep and a shower.”
She looked at the clock on the stove. After four. She’d be lucky to sleep for an hour. Years as an agent had taught her to grab a few minutes of sleep whenever the opportunity presented itself because one never knew when the chance to sleep might come around again.
Reluctantly, Sandy stood up, too. “Yeah, I guess I better try for a bit of shut-eye myself. I get these terrible bags beneath my eyes when I don’t get enough sleep.”
Tick and Pete followed them to the door. “We’ll have coffee on by seven if you’re interested,” Pete called out to them when they reached the bottom of the steps.
Sandy waved. “I can’t wait!”
Kate smacked her hand down. “Lord have mercy! Would you just stop for one minute. You’re acting too eager, if you ask me. And remember, we’re working, Sandra. Working. It’d be best to remember that.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with us coming over for coffee. Theirs was a sight better than that instant stuff we’ve been nuking in the microwave. Besides, I think you should be there when Rosita wakes up. She might be willing to talk to you after a good night’s rest and a healthy breakfast.”
“I’m sure you’re right. Now, let’s get inside and get some sleep. I, for one, can’t run on adrenaline forever.”
“Whatever, you’re a party pooper,” Sandy teased.
Fifteen minutes later, Kate and Sandy were lying on their cots with the air conditioner cranked as high as it would go and two oscillating fans blowing warm air across the room.
In a sleepy voice, Sandy said, “I think I’m going to move to Alaska when this gig’s up.”
“Then you’ll be begging for heat. Good night, Sandra.”
“Night,” came the reply.
Southern Comfort Page 16
