The Water Keeper(28)

“Seen any party boats? Loaded up with kids?”

He considered this. “From time to time. Nothing lately.” He paused. “Although—” He pointed to a yacht on the far side of the harbor. I’d not noticed it when we arrived because it was hidden behind a hundred other boats. “That one came in night ’fore last. I was off. Don’t know who was on it, but it just appeared. Nice boat too.”

I could see enough to know what I needed to know.

“Any other boats missing since that one appeared?”

He scratched his chin. “Yeah, we had this crazy black, sleek, modern-looking thing parked over there for three weeks. Maybe longer. A hundred and twenty feet. Dang nice boat too.”

“You know her name?”

This time he scratched his beard. “Something catchy. Like Catch the Wind or Catching Fire or . . .” He faded off.

He threw me the bow line. I reversed away from the tanks and said, “Thanks.”

Summer stirred as I circled the marina, coming to stand next to me when she saw the Sea Tenderly.





Chapter 10


I tied up alongside and climbed aboard. She was empty, but I already knew that. The interior was a mess. Trashed. It smelled of burnt rope, incense, alcohol, vomit, and urine. The hot tub was an odd St. Patty’s Day green color. The sound system was still blinking and the DJ’s turntable was still spinning.

Summer studied the aft common area and kitchen. The stub end of marijuana joints filled the counter. Must have been thirty or forty. Wrapping papers. Beer and liquor bottles. Expensive tequila and vodka rested half full and half empty in what remained of the bar. Someone was courting and catering to these kids and sparing no expense.

All manner of clothing on the floor where it had been taken off.

Summer shook her head, disbelief painted across her face. We walked through the four staterooms, which were in no better condition. It’d take a cleaning crew a week to get this thing presentable, and I’m not sure they’d ever get the smell out.

Summer folded her arms. “They left in a hurry.”

“They do this.”

“Do what?”

“Change boats. Often at night.”

“Why?”

“It keeps the kids interested. And throws off anyone looking for them.”

“You’ve seen this sort of thing before?”

I nodded.

“How can anyone afford this?”

I tried to answer while not answering. “They are . . . financed.”

“What do you mean?”

I turned to Summer. “Usually Russians. But also the Chinese and Koreans. Middle East.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

“Just a guy who’s spent a little time on the water.”

She shook her head. “Not like any guy I’ve ever known.” She waved her hands across the boat. “What are they buying?”

“Flesh.”

The truth of this landed on Summer.

I continued, “They have teams of men who travel the coast, find attractive girls, and offer them a good time. Then they offer them drugs. Get them hooked. Move the party south. Then one day the girls wake up in Cuba or Brazil or . . . Siberia.”

“Why do the girls fall for that?”

“The guys are well trained. They’re gentlemen. And—” I stared at Summer. “They often target the mothers to get to the daughters. Do them a favor . . .”

Summer sat on the sofa and hung her head in her hands.

I rifled through the drawers and cabinets. “Don’t. These guys are pros. They saw you coming a mile away.”

“But—”

“Let’s go.”

“Shouldn’t we call somebody? This is bigger than—”

“Not if you want to find her.”

“What do you mean?”

“You alert any authority, and that boat will skip to Bimini in the next thirty minutes on the way to South America. You’ll never see Angel again.”

“But how—”

“They’re smart and they don’t joke around but they’re also businessmen, and more girls equals more money. So they’ll work the coastline until they feel real pressure.”

“What will they do when they . . . ?” Summer trailed off.

“They’ll post pictures on the dark web and sell them to the highest bidder—which I imagine they’ve done already. For the really special girls, they set up an auction.”

Summer didn’t speak.

“I don’t know what you thought you were getting into or what you thought you’d find, but Angel is in a bad way. And these men, no matter how gentlemanly they seem, are anything but gentlemen. She’s addicted to some ugly stuff, and even if and when you do find her, she’s going to need to dry out for several months.”

Summer sat shaking her head. “I should call someone. Someone who can do something.”

I put my hand on her shoulder. It was the first time I’d touched her in tenderness and not in an effort to pick oyster shells from her body. “Do what you think is best.” The moisture told me she’d soaked through her shirt. “But you’d better let me doctor that.”

She turned sideways. “Have you done this before?”