Southern Comfort

by Fern Michaels

  Rosita took a deep breath. “I did everything Aunt Constance asked of me. I spent three hours every day studying English. Aunt Constance said I should not listen when she and Mateo spoke Spanish as it would ruin me for the future. So I forgot much of my native language because Aunt Constance insisted speaking English would pay off. She used those words a lot. I still don’t know why.

  “After English studies, I would polish silver for the rich and undeserving, that’s what Aunt Constance always called them. Mateo brought all kinds of beautiful silver to the house almost every day. I loved to see it shine, so I worked very hard to make sure I did not miss even a tiny speck of tarnish. If I did, I would have to do each piece all over again. Mateo would bring gold and jewels, too. I was not allowed to touch them, but sometimes I was allowed to look. But I never touched. Aunt Constance said I was her best girl ever, and she would make sure once I went to live with my parents that I would get my very own bedroom, so I always tried to follow her rules.”

  “Did you ever attend school?” Sandy asked before Rosita continued her story. Being born in Cuba had its downside, but Sandy had been very well educated while living there.

  “No, ma’am. I was taught at home. Aunt Constance is very smart. She had all sorts of books. After I finished with the silver, I studied the lessons Aunt Constance prepared. She was . . . is very, very smart. She knew her numbers better than Mateo. When they thought I was asleep, sometimes I would hear them arguing about numbers, though I think it was money numbers.”

  Tick cleared his throat, raked a hand through his uncombed hair. “What do you mean by money numbers?”

  “I never understood what they really meant. But Aunt Constance always said her payoff was less than it should have been. She said she did all the training, the hard work. I don’t remember ever having a hard time with my numbers, but I think she told Mateo this so he would be nice to her.”

  Kate’s hair rose on the back of her neck. “What do you mean, Rosita?”

  “When the numbers were high, Mateo was always nice to her and to me. Though he wasn’t always so nice to the others.”

  “Others?” Kate interjected. “There were other girls there with you and Aunt Constance?”

  Rosita smiled. “Oh yes, there were a lot of girls. Aunt Constance told me they were my cousins though I never remember my mother or father telling me I had so many cousins. I am sure that I was just too young to remember them.”

  Kate shot a look at Tick. He gave a slight nod. Now they were getting somewhere. Bird chose that moment to swoop into the kitchen, his wings flapping so fast they created a slight breeze as he hovered above the table. “Get the girls! Get the girls!”

  Rosita’s mouth hung open. “That’s what Mateo used to say to Aunt Constance. All the time he would tell her to ‘get the girls, get the girls.’ I wonder why your bird says this?” Rosita looked at Tick.

  “Uh, well . . . I’m not really sure why he says that. He’s not really my bird. He just flew by one day and stayed.”

  Kate’s eyes rounded like saucers. She bit the sides of her jaws to keep from laughing. They were onto something critical here, and the last thing she wanted to do was laugh. Poor Rosita would think she was making fun of her.

  Rosita nodded as though this were the most normal thing in the world. Birds that talked and came for a visit and never left. Bird had yet to reveal his bilingual capabilities.

  Not wanting to get sidetracked by talking about Tick’s foul-mouthed bird, Kate quickly took over the conversation. “So, tell me about the other girls. Did they have families in Miami, too?”

  Rosita directed her gaze away from Bird and back to Kate. “I suppose. They usually left after a few weeks. Some stayed a long time but none as long as me. Aunt Constance always said I was special, and I had to be in perfect condition before I was allowed to leave. She told me Mother and Father would not want me if I wasn’t perfect. I . . . I don’t know that I believe that anymore. I have done everything that has been asked of me, and I still have not heard from my family.”

  Subdued after hearing the child’s story, Kate spoke to her in a gentle tone. “Rosita, do you know why you were brought here to Mango Key?”

  “There were twelve of us.”

  Tick, Kate, Sandy, and Pete stared at one another. As was becoming customary, Kate took the lead. “Were these twelve girls your cousins?”

  Rosita dropped her head to her chest. Small sobs caused her thin shoulders to shake. She cried for a few seconds, then lifted her head. “I am sorry. I get so very sad sometimes.”

  “It’s okay to be sad. No one here is going to hurt you or say anything hurtful to you. You have our word. Right?” Kate looked at Sandy, Pete, and, lastly, Tick. They all promised they would protect Rosita.

  “Thank you. I know you mean no harm. I know when people are good, as I have seen so much evil.” She dropped her chin to her small chest again as though she were ashamed at what she’d just said.

  Kate waited until Rosita looked up again. This seemed to be her way of avoidance when she felt sad or ashamed. Damn, she was thirteen and acted like an old woman. Whoever was responsible for this had better give his or her soul to God, because Kate planned to kick the living hell out of them. Big-time and legally, of course. But then again, maybe not. Perhaps among the four of them, they could just toss the low-life scum into the ocean for shark bait. Right now she would like nothing better.

  “What are your parents’ names? I have a friend who will help me locate them. I’ll make arrangements for you to be with them immediately.” Kate mouthed, “Call Jelly,” to Sandy. Sandy gave her a thumbs-up.

  Rosita’s eyes sparkled. “You can really do that, Miss Kate? Really?”

  Kate didn’t want to disappoint the young girl any more than she’d been already, so she simply stated, “I promise to do everything within my power to find them for you.”

  “My mother is Raquel Vasquez and my father is Felipe Vasquez.”

  Sandy jumped out of her seat, searching for something to write with. Pete raced into the bedroom, returning in seconds with a pencil and paper.

  “Can you spell those names for me?” Kate asked while Sandy prepared to take notes.

  Rosita spelled their names out loud and clearly. Knowing what Kate was going to ask of her, Sandy spoke up before Kate had a chance to. “I’m calling Jelly now.”

  Kate nodded and continued to question Rosita.

  “Do you know who brought you and your cousins to the island? Do you have any idea how long you’ve been here?”

  The young girl shook her head, “I do not know except it was a friend of Mateo’s. He is an American man. He kept telling us that we were very lucky to have him guide us into US waters because he was a very important man in the United States. He said some of the girls wouldn’t be so lucky. We did not know what he meant, so none of us really talked to him. The boat was fast, but it was very small. We were all cramped together, and there was not much water to drink. We were very hot. We asked the American if we could go inside, where it was cooler, because some of the girls became very ill from the rocky boat ride and the sun. He just hit the girl who asked.” Again, Rosita’s eyes filled with tears. This time, however, she did not bother to lower her head. “One of the girls”—she looked around the room as though she were afraid—“died. The boat man just pushed her into the water. I remember him saying he hoped the sharks were hungry for Cuban food.”

  For the second time, those gathered around the small dinette table were silent. Such words coming from a thirteen-year-old was unheard of in their own world; but sadly in their line of work, they were accustomed to such stories. Kate stiffened nonetheless. She wasn’t so hardened that she did not feel for the young girl. Treatment of this caliber would most likely scar Rosita for life and maybe ruin whatever small chance she might have for a normal life. Taking a deep breath, Kate continued, trying to be as direct as one could in such a delicate situation without losing sight of her ultimate goal. Get as much informat
ion as she could on these bastards without hurting Rosita or, even worse, losing her trust. “Do you know what her name was?”

  Rosita knuckled her eyes. “She was called Maria. That’s all. A lot of the girls were Maria.”

  Figures, Kate thought.

  “Could you take a guess at how old she was? Her true age?”

  “Maybe fifteen?” Rosita said.

  “Rosita, were the girls in the boat with you . . .” Kate paused, as she wasn’t quite sure how to word her next question. “Did any of the girls in the boat stay with your aunt Constance?”

  “Oh yes. All twelve of them. Aunt Constance said they always saved the best for last. She told me I had completed all my training and that I would make my parents very proud. When I left with the others, though, I thought something was wrong. On the night we left, we were brought to the old church in Havana. Aunt Constance said we were going to be blessed by Father Domingo, but he never came. Several of Mateo’s men arrived, then Aunt Constance hurried us out of the church and drove us to the place were the boat was. When we arrived at the boat landing, I heard Mateo curse a lot. Once I think I even heard him punching one of the men, but I cannot be sure of this. We were told to be quiet or else.”

  Kate could only imagine what the or else meant.

  “What happened to the girls? Where did Mateo take the other girls who came with you? We searched the house and didn’t find anyone else.” Unless they hid themselves extremely well, Kate thought. But that was highly unlikely, she realized, given how thoroughly they’d searched the place.

  Rosita dropped her chin once again. Several minutes passed before she looked up at them. “That man, the American, came to the house. He said he was there to pick up his—” Rosita stopped as though she were afraid to continue.

  “It’s okay, Rosie. All you have to do is tell what you remember,” Tick finally said. Kate could tell he was in full cop mode. Totally law and order, no bullshit. She was glad because she had a feeling she was going to need an extra hand.

  The child nodded, taking Tick at his word. “The American man said he was there ‘to pick up his . . . whores.’ ” The last word was barely a whisper.

  Kate caught Tick’s gaze, saw the dark vein in his neck beating wildly. This was worse than she’d even imagined. Prostitution.

  Pete looked shocked. Sandy was still on the phone with Jelly.

  “And that was when you decided to hide?” Kate questioned.

  Rosita nodded. “The girls were very frightened of the American man. He called them bad names. He touched them in places where he shouldn’t, too. I did not want to go anywhere with that mean man. I knew I had to save myself, and that is when I decided to hide. I thought since I was on US soil, later I could locate my parents myself. I just kept waiting for the right time to leave. Then some people came and I thought it was the American coming back to get me, so I didn’t dare go outside. I saw boats and then you . . . and then I was saved. I owe you my life. All of you.”

  Kate was shocked, as she’d never heard such passionate words from one so young.

  Sandy stepped back into the kitchen. “I told Jelly everything. He’s sending Josh and Roy to Cuba ASAP. On the QT, of course. He said he would be here this afternoon.”

  Kate had one more important question. “Rosita, if you saw the American man, the one you say is mean, could you identify him?”

  She nodded. “I will never forget his face, Miss Kate. Never.”

  Chapter 19

  Lawrence Tyler paced the length of his room at the Southernmost Point Guest House. He kept reliving the scene with that bitch Kate Rush back at Mango Key. He planned to make her suffer if it was the last thing he ever did. She had humiliated him beyond anything he’d ever experienced. And that goddamn bird. He’d kill that mangy ball of fluff and make a dream catcher out of its feathers.

  Nothing was going as planned. He was back at square one, which wasn’t really square one since he’d never had a plan to begin with. He’d hightailed it to Mango Key in hopes of orchestrating a big bust at that compound. Then nothing. He’d been made fun of, picked on, walked on, and crapped on. No wonder his father didn’t want anything to do with him beyond boasting that his son was a big-shot DEA agent. Other than his professional status, he’d been a disappointment to his parents as far back as he could remember.

  He’d spent most of his early years at one boarding school or another when really all he ever longed to do was stay at home and go to a regular school like real kids did. He’d watched dozens of movies and television shows where kids got up in the morning and their moms always had smiles on their faces and big healthy breakfasts prepared. Their fathers were always there to listen and advise.

  But no, his parents had always had their sights set on the White House. His father’s greatest aspiration was to be the man in charge, president of the United States. Top dog, number one, as in the buck stops here. It wasn’t that he had strong political views or any vision for the country. No, his father just wanted the office, and his mother, to be the power behind the throne, not to say the First Lady.

  Tyler had been nothing more than an inconvenience to his parents. Once, when he was twelve, he’d been home for spring break and overheard his parents talking when they thought he was in bed sound asleep. His father had stated quite clearly that he would’ve gotten rid of the little bastard had it not been too late and illegal. And his mother had agreed. It hadn’t been real complicated to put two and two together and come up with four. Pure and simple. He had been an accident. And his parents had to live with it, or rather, him. No wonder he was such a gutless wonder and a lowly coward.

  He would never, ever let Kate Rush get away with humiliating him again. He’d hunt her down like a rabid dog, and when he found her, well, he’d do what they did to rabid dogs. He’d put the bitch down. D-O-W-N, as in dead. He smiled at the image but knew in his heart of hearts that he was not capable of killing her. He was simply too much of a coward, though it made for one hell of a fantasy.

  He smiled as he visualized Kate running through a heavily wooded area with him right on her heels. Rivulets of blood would be streaming down her pretty face as branches scraped across it, then . . . well, hell, he was even a coward in his fantasies because he wasn’t sure what he’d do with her when he caught her. He didn’t see himself simply shooting her and putting her out of her misery. Besides, Rush would fight back. He knew all too well what she was capable of. A coward she was not. Deep down he had a warped sense of respect for her. She’d never backed down from him in all the years they’d worked together, even when he was her immediate superior and she knew she was risking her job. Kate Rush had the guts and courage he’d spent his entire life searching for.

  He still hated the bitch.

  Deciding that another trip to Mango Key was out of the question, and with the rest of the afternoon looming in front of him, Tyler decided he might as well go sightseeing just like all the other tourists in town. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would bump into Nancy Holliday, and they could have drinks together. First things first. He would take a refreshing icy-cold shower, then dress in his tourist garb to wander the streets of Key West. Maybe he’d go to the Hemingway house and catch a six-toed cat. He grimaced at the thought. Tyler hated cats.

  Tyler grabbed his travel kit and was heading to the bathroom when his phone buzzed. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to answer or not. His day had sucked enough already, but then he decided it couldn’t get any worse. He grabbed the phone off the desk, glancing at the caller ID before answering. It read UNKNOWN CALLER, PRIVATE NUMBER.

  “Tyler here,” he said, with as much authority as one could muster after being crapped on by a bird.

  “I see you came hightailing back to the safety and comfort of your room.”

  The blackmailer.

  “What the fuck do you want?” he asked with as much bravado as he’d ever had.

  “Well, well now. Aren’t we getting a little big for our britches.” The caller laughed. “Spea
king of britches, those shorts you bought at that tacky tourist trap, the ones in the second drawer next to those loud T-shirts you bought, have a rip on the left pocket, which happens to be the pocket where you keep your wallet. You might want to make use of the sewing kit the guesthouse supplied. It’s on the bathroom shelf; if memory serves me correctly, it’s on the top shelf next to those little bars of gardenia-scented soap.”

  Tyler was totally speechless for a minute. Gathering his thoughts, he realized that the son of a bitch had been in his room. “How dare you break into my room and go through my things! I’ll have your ass arrested!”

  The blackmailer laughed. “Oh, stop with the threats, Larry my boy. I’ve been in your condo, I’ve touched your silk boxers. What’s a little search of your room? Nothing. Trust me. And did you know that I’ve always thought of you as Larry. Lawrence never suited you.”

  “We’re supposed to meet tonight at Sloppy Joe’s. What more could you possibly want?”

  He heard the caller laugh. He wanted to reach through the phone and wring his neck, choke the life right out of him.

  “You really don’t have a clue, do you, Larry?”

  Such anguish. Goddammit, he knew the voice from somewhere, he’d heard it before. He couldn’t place exactly where and when, but when it came to him, the bastard was going to be sorry.

  “Stop calling me Larry. No one calls me that. What the fuck do you want? I thought we’d made our plans?”

  A wicked laugh caused him to hold the cell phone away from his ear. He could not wait for this to be over and done with. With his days numbered as a DEA agent, he just wanted to get on with his life. Maybe he’d move to the Bahamas when all was said and done. He wasn’t known there, at least as far as he knew. It might be the perfect place to start over. Maybe he could convince Nancy Holliday to come for a visit. What the hell was wrong with him? Suddenly he was having all these fantasies, now it was Nancy Holliday, and he didn’t even know the woman.