Southern Comfort

by Fern Michaels

  Hands on her hips, foot tapping at a mind-boggling rate of speed, Kate said impatiently, “It’s okay, Tick. He doesn’t need to apologize further. I won’t accept it anyway. Lawrence, why don’t you say what it is you really want, so the rest of us can get on with our day. You’ve wasted too much of my time already.”

  Deciding it was in his best interest to be compliant, at least for the moment, Tyler held both hands up in defense. “Okay, Rush. You win this time, but I won’t forget. You owe me.”

  Kate rolled her eyes. “Get a grip, Tyler. I don’t owe you squat.” She thought about Bird and his actions. It was all she could do to control herself when she recalled the look on Tyler’s face as Bird did his thing.

  “I think we all can agree Bird took care of whatever any of us owed Special Agent Tyler,” Tick said to Kate, a smirk on his face.

  “Yeah, we can,” Kate said, then turned her attention back to Tyler. “Explain why you’re still here?”

  As he had no other choice, Tyler decided to spill his guts. He’d already been humiliated to the nth degree. What would a little more suffering matter? All he wanted was to state his business and get the hell out of here. “All those months ago, when you were assigned to that stakeout, I . . . something was going down at that abandoned mansion at the tip of Mango Key. My informant’s information wasn’t on the money.”

  “No kidding,” Kate said. “I’m listening.”

  “This is off the record, and if anyone finds out I’m telling you this—” He stopped, realizing it wouldn’t matter who found out. His days were numbered anyway. “Forget I said that. Whatever’s going down there is big. As in promote-to-the-top big. Don’t ask how I know this because I won’t tell you. I know you and Sandra are off the radar, so to speak. And don’t ask me how I know that either. I do. You and Martin and the rest of the old Phoenix crew know I’m about to be kicked to the curb.”

  Tyler looked away, so she wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes. “I’d like to have something substantial on my list of career achievements before they toss me out on my ass. You,” he said directly to Tick, “have been here on the island for a long time. Have you witnessed anything unusual? Night visitors? Boats coming close to shore?”

  Tick looked at Kate. She winked at him. “As I’m sure you must know, I didn’t come to Mango Key to make friends with my neighbors. I work on my books and scripts. When I’m not working, I’m out on my boat. So to answer your question, no, I haven’t seen anything that would arouse my suspicions. Of course, I haven’t been looking, either, and it’s hard to see if you don’t look.”

  Tyler seemed to ponder Tick’s words. “So, what you’re saying is in all the years you’ve spent on this secluded . . . island, you haven’t seen or heard anything remotely suspicious going on at that place?” He pointed to the stretch of beach behind him.

  Tick shook his head. “You’re asking me if I heard anything? Okay, well . . . yes, I’ve heard voices, seen the Coast Guard there a few times. If you’re asking me if I’ve heard or seen anything significant, unusual, my answer is still the same.”

  Tyler leaned against the railing. “I’m not sure I believe you. You were a homicide detective. Aren’t detectives supposed to have some sort of sixth sense or something?”

  Kate took a step toward Tyler, then Tick gently grabbed her by the elbow, pulling her beside him. “I told you he isn’t worth it.” Tick directed his steely gaze in the annoying man’s direction. “I think you have your answer. I want you to leave, and I’m only asking once. You gettin’ it, Special Agent Lawrence Tyler?”

  Tyler stuffed his hands into his shorts pockets, then used his foot to propel himself forward from the post he’d been leaning against so casually. “Yes, I do believe I’ve got it.” Turning his back on Tick and Kate, Tyler started down the steep steps, then stopped and looked over his shoulder. “We’re not finished, Miss Rush, I promise you, we are not finished.”

  Tick hiked a foot high in the air, aimed it at Tyler’s back, preparing to kick him down the flight of steps, then slowly lowered his leg. “I’ll take my own advice; you’re not worth it.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Tyler tossed back as he practically skipped down the remaining stairs. “We will see about that,” he repeated in a whisper meant for his ears only.

  Chapter 17

  Kate wanted to chase Tyler down the stairs and kick his butt all the way to Cuba, but now wasn’t the time. She had a young girl who required her immediate attention. Tyler was like an old shoe; he’d likely be stuck in a corner desk somewhere in some dank little office for years. Kate would find him when and if.

  Tick opened the screen door for Kate. “If I’d had to work with that bastard for more than a day, I would’ve killed him.”

  Kate stepped inside. “Trust me, I’ve had to use all the restraint I could muster. My saving grace, rather his saving grace, was that both of us moved around a lot. Otherwise, I think I would’ve killed him a year ago, when he assigned me to do surveillance here on Mango Key after making me wait hours and hours before he showed up at the meeting place.

  “That’s when I finally realized I’d had enough and turned in my resignation. Something he said made me so mad that I snapped and pummeled him real good, letting him know it was for what he had done to good agents over the years. So much for my restraint.”

  Pete called out as they entered the kitchen, scratching any chance Tick had of responding.

  “Hey, you two, breakfast is getting cold.” Rosita was still seated at the table, a plate of scrambled eggs and a bagel in front of her. Pete nodded toward the child. “This is her second helping.”

  A slow burn crept up the back of Kate’s spine and came to a halt at the base of her skull. The son of a bitch who did this to this helpless girl had better say his or her prayers, because when and if, no, when she got her hands on the slimy worthless piece of humanity, she was not going to restrain herself. She forced a smile as she sat down beside the little girl.

  “Hi, Rosita.”

  Rosita dipped her head, but her gaze found Kate’s. She offered a slow smile, then lifted her head so that she was looking directly into Kate’s eyes. “Who was that man?”

  Taken aback, Kate took a few seconds to gather herself. “I used to work with him, honey. He’s nothing to worry about. Is there some reason you’re afraid of him?” Kate wanted to pull the words back, but it was too late. “He’s nothing to concern yourself with. He can’t hurt you if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

  “Kate,” Sandy interjected, then sat beside Rosita. “Can you eat another bagel? I don’t think I can finish mine. All those mangoes filled me right up.” Sandy shot Kate the all-knowing look, which Kate knew was meant to tell her to stop her questions, give the child a moment to recover from her questions about Tyler.

  Kate nodded. “I think I could eat another bagel, too. Pete, would it be too much trouble to ask you and Tick to toast two more?” She gave a slight nod in Rosita’s direction.

  Pete grabbed the sack of bagels from the refrigerator. “I could eat the entire bag myself, so I’ll just toast them all. You hungry, Tick?” Pete asked.

  Tick lingered in the kitchen doorway. “You bet. I’ll have one, too.”

  Rosita lifted the edge of her mouth in a small smile, as though she knew what they were trying to do in order to make her more comfortable. “I would like another as well, please.”

  Kate’s eyes widened. She’d never been around kids that much, but she was sure of one thing: The few she had been around weren’t nearly as polite as Rosita. Before anyone had a chance to reply, Pete placed two bagel slices slathered with cream cheese on Rosita’s plate.

  “Thank you, Mr. . . . Pete.”

  Smart, too, Kate observed. She hadn’t been told how she should address them, yet she had enough manners to know what was proper and what wasn’t. Kate was sure she was nowhere near eighteen just by the looks of her. Last night, rather early this morning, she’d thought she was possibly ten or maybe
eleven. Now, in the bright light of day she thought possibly Rosita was thirteen, fourteen at most. However, her mannerisms were those of a refined adult. Someone had spent a lot of time with this child. Could it be that her parents were a wealthy Cuban family, and she’d lived a privileged life in Cuba? If you could call living in Cuba privileged. But Sandy had lived there as a child, and now look at her. She had a doctorate.

  When Rosita was out of earshot, she would ask the others their thoughts on the subject. Maybe Rosita had been kidnapped, and her family was looking for her this very moment. There was no time to waste, Kate figured, and with that in mind, decided to ask Rosita a few more questions. But she would make sure they were worded just so. Pete dropped a bagel on the plate in front of her.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Sure.” Pete placed a plateful of bagels in the center of the table with a large container of cream cheese and a jar of jelly beside them. Kate guessed the twins liked bagels. She smiled. Maybe they didn’t know how to cook. Hell, it wasn’t a crime not to be on The Next Food Network Star, a show she’d become addicted to before Jelly brought her back on board.

  Pete took a seat next to Sandy, and Tick leaned against the counter. Kate took a hefty bite of her bagel before speaking. “Rosita, I know this isn’t easy for you, but it’s important that you tell us how you came to be at that . . . house.” Kate looked at Sandy. She gave her a slight nod, indicating she was heading in the right direction.

  Rosita wiped her mouth, then placed her napkin to the side of her paper plate. “I was told not to speak of that, Miss Kate. I’m sorry.” She looked as though she were about to cry.

  Kate tried another tactic. “Sweetie, whoever told you not to talk about this isn’t a very nice person. We know you’re afraid to tell, but I promise you that you have absolutely nothing to be afraid of. I’m going to see to it that whoever took you there never does this to anyone else. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Rosita nodded. “Yes, but they said they would . . .” Her dark eyes drifted toward the screen door and beyond. “They said they would drop me in the middle of the water where it’s real deep. I cannot swim.” Rosita paused, not for impact but to wipe the tears from her face. “They told me one large cement block was all it would take, and I would be shark bait or food for the bottom feeders, whichever came first.” She cried freely, her small shoulders trembling as she sobbed.

  A raging inferno coursed through Kate’s veins. She eyed the others. She could see that the child’s words had affected them just as deeply. She would strangle the person who’d said that to Rosita, then she’d dangle the bastard . . . Oh, what the hell, before Kate finished with them, whoever did this would remember Kate Rush for a long time. In order to continue her questioning of Rosita, Kate took a deep, calming breath. And another.

  “That’s a very mean thing to say to someone. Was this person someone you know or a stranger?” Kate knew she came off as though she were talking to a three-year-old, but this was just her way of calming herself. What she really wanted to do was find the SOBs and choke the life out of them and feed them to the sharks, though Kate thought surely the sharks would spit them out, and the bottom feeders would gag at the first bite.

  Rosita finished her milk and wiped her mouth before taking her paper plate to the garbage. When she finished, she sat back down. “It was both.”

  Kate could hardly contain herself. Sandy saw this and took over the questioning until Kate was calm enough. This was her baby, and Sandy knew she’d want to finish what she’d started.

  Sandy leaned across the table and took Rosita’s hand in hers. She spoke to her in Spanish first but stopped when Rosita shook her head. “I speak better English. In Cuba, I spoke a little Spanish, but not much. I was trained at an early age to speak English. They said I would have a good future if I learned and followed the training. I practiced every day until I could think in English.”

  Kate couldn’t hold back. “My God, how old were you when you were told this?”

  Rosita shook her head. “I was maybe five or six. I cannot remember.”

  “Can you tell me how old you are now? Your real age. Not the age they told you to say.”

  Rosita seemed to consider Kate’s question with such intensity that she almost wished she hadn’t asked.

  “I will be fourteen my next birthday.”

  So she was only thirteen!

  Kate observed Tick as he balled his hands into fists. She could feel his inner rage across the small room. She glanced at him, saw pain slashed across his face, and knew that having Rosita here in his home brought back all his painful memories of the past. She knew about his family but certainly didn’t know him well enough to go there. Maybe, in time, he would share that part of his life with her, but for now, they had to find the son of a bitch who had treated this child as though she were nothing more than a thing to be toyed with. Animals were treated better.

  “Exactly what were you being ‘trained’ to do?” Kate asked even though she had a strong suspicion she already knew.

  “I cleaned the houses for the rich people in Cuba. They told me I would make a lot of money in Miami, and I could have my own room, plus I would be with my family.”

  Tick stepped over to the table. “Rosita, where are your parents?”

  The million-dollar question Kate was dying to ask, but she wanted to glide into those waters without upsetting the child any more than she had already. She watched the child carefully. She didn’t appear to be upset in the least. As a matter of fact, Rosita was smiling like she’d been given the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

  “I was told they would be in Miami waiting for me. I have not seen them since I was a very small child. Around three, I think. I so wanted to get to Miami so I could find them. Mateo . . . uh, I was promised if I worked very, very hard, they would help me locate them.”

  “Who is Mateo?” Tick asked. Kate knew this was the cop talking, not the father who’d lost his family. He wasn’t wasting words.

  She shook her head again. “I am not sure. He . . . he said he was my cousin.”

  Pete slid out of his chair, and Tick sat down across from Rosita. Kate observed this, thinking, Okay, we’re back in father mode.

  “Why don’t you just tell me your story. The way you remember. Think you can do that for me? I swear on my life I will not allow anyone to hurt you. Do you trust me, Rosie?”

  Rosie?

  Kate watched in amazement as Tick continued. He must’ve been one hell of a cop. The DEA, FBI, or DOJ would snap him up in a New York minute if he put himself on the market.

  Rosita stood up, removing all the paper plates, napkins, and plastic utensils from the table. She seemed comfortable doing this, so no one asked her to stop. She found a damp kitchen sponge and proceeded to wipe the crumbs from the counter, then the table. When she was finished, she wiped out the sink, then neatly folded a kitchen towel, placing it next to the sink. She looked around. When she saw there was nothing else that she could clean, she sat back down.

  “I don’t usually . . . well, what I mean is, I have been around some very bad men. I don’t always trust them.” She looked at Tick as though she wanted to burn his face into her memory. “You have good eyes. I . . . Yes, I will trust you. Where do you want me to begin?”

  The small kitchen was so silent you could’ve heard the proverbial pin drop. Even Bird managed to keep his trap shut.

  “The beginning, Rosita, that’s always the best place to start.”

  Chapter 18

  Rosita chewed on her bottom lip for a few seconds before continuing her story. She placed both hands in her lap, one atop the other, as though she were posing for a formal photograph. With her dark hair free of the tangles and grime, it reminded Kate of a rich warm cup of coffee. Her eyes pooled with unshed tears, leaving a silvery glaze over her deep brown eyes. Rosita cleared her throat as an adult would do. “There are some things that I do not remember clearly, so I cannot be totally sure of everything.
I don’t want you to think I am telling a lie.” She looked at Kate directly in the face as she said this, as though if Kate even thought she was telling anything but the whole truth, she would break down.

  Kate reached for her hand. “Just tell us what you remember. I expect it would be impossible to remember every single detail, right, Sandy?” Kate kicked her friend’s leg under the table, and Pete jumped. Kate almost laughed. Damn Sandy. She already had poor Pete wrapped around her leg. Later, she would comment on how fast she worked.

  Sandy chimed in, “We don’t expect you to remember every last detail, sweetie. Just tell us what you can.”

  Rosita nodded. “I think I was around three or four when my parents were taken to Miami, though I am not sure. I remember crying when they left me with Aunt Constance. I think she is my father’s sister, but I’m not sure of that either. She taught me how to speak in English. She said someday it would pay off. I never knew what she meant.” She brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “I still don’t understand. But then Mateo came along, and Aunt Constance said that I must work very hard so she could send me to Florida to live with my family again.

  “I think I was about seven or eight by this time. I remember crying because I could not remember my parents’ faces anymore. There were no pictures. They were just like a shadow in the back of my mind.” Rosita paused. “You understand this, Miss Kate?”

  Amazed at the child’s keen perception, Kate wanted to tell her she totally understood where she was coming from since she’d felt the same way about her grandfather after he’d died. She had pictures, but it wasn’t the same as actually seeing him. She’d remembered the smell of cigars, his spicy scented aftershave for years after he died. Then the memories became cloudy and vague. So yes, she knew exactly what Rosita referred to. “Of course I understand.”