Lost(37)

I’d even used the tiny vacuum cleaner someone had brought in to give the carpet a good once-over.

Steph Hall stepped into the doorway and said, “Wow, I didn’t know you had so much room. What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion. It was just getting a little messy.”

“We all assumed that was the natural order of things with you. The office looks about the same as it did right after you moved in. What are you going to do for an encore this afternoon? Maybe wash your Explorer?”

“Did it last night. It smells like a new car.”

“Okay, what the heck is going on? Do you know something I don’t?”

“I don’t know how busy I’ll be once this case gets off the ground. I thought it was a good time to clean things up.”

“Uh-huh. And when does the Dutch detective come to Miami?”

“This afternoon.” I tried to sound casual, but Steph knew me too well.

“I’m starting to suspect that you and this detective have more in common than the case.”

“It’s not like that.”

Steph raised an eyebrow and said, “With guys, it’s always like that. Men have one-track minds. So tell me, is she pretty?”

“Beautiful.” I didn’t even bother to hide my smile. I checked the clock on my desk and realized I had to head out to the airport soon.

Steph said, “Can I help with anything?”

“You’ve already done too much. You’re the best.” I stood and gathered my things.

She said, “Have I done enough to learn why your street name is Anti?”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

She playfully slapped me on the arm. “Don’t be a shit. I could just ask a Miami cop.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Steph bowed her head. “You’re right. I’ll figure it out. Or I’ll get you to spill one day.”

“Good luck with that.” I let her hear me snicker as I left.

An hour later, I used my connections at Miami International to get right to the gate as passengers disembarked from the Amsterdam plane.

I didn’t want to go overboard, but I had gotten a haircut. I wore a simple sports coat. Marie spotted me as soon as she stepped off the Jetway. I liked the smile that spread across her face.

I reached in for a hug and she put out her hand and we were caught in the awkward no-man’s-land between a hug and a handshake. She put one arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze.

After we retrieved her single bag, we walked to my car. Marie said, “The newest information I have came from my best informant, who told me that a ship left from somewhere in Northern Europe about a week ago and should be here in the next few days.”

“And you can’t narrow that down at all?”

“I might be able to once we’re closer to the day the ship arrives.”

“Just like they can trick you by leaving from any one of the ports in Europe, they could come into the port of Miami, Port Everglades in Fort Lauderdale, or even Palm Beach.”

Marie said, “I understand. I just want to make the best case possible.”

“I’d like to get a little press on the arrests so that people can see how serious human trafficking really is. Media coverage would probably help the task force as well.”

Marie agreed. As we made our way to my car, she said, “What do we do now?”

“I’m going to get you something to eat. You set the standard in Amsterdam for hospitality.”

I loved her smile.





CHAPTER 54





IT WAS LATE in the afternoon by the time I got Marie settled in her downtown hotel room. I had planned to take her to the office and introduce her around, but to be honest, I liked my alternative plan better.

She was hungry, so I’d stopped my Explorer near a food truck that was always on Eighth Street just west of the interstate, before the street turns into Calle Ocho, famous for restaurants visited by presidents and the Cuban culture on display.

Marie looked at the truck with the neon letters on the side that said SANDWICHES. She said, “You’re only taking me to the nicest places, I see.”

The owner, Luis, waved to me as we stepped up to the truck’s window. I smiled and held up two fingers. He nodded.

“I don’t want you to fill up too much before dinner. Besides, these are the best Cuban sandwiches in the city. He’s usually sold out by this time of day.”

“What other kinds of sandwiches does he sell?”

“There are no other sandwiches recognized by Miami residents. Try one.”

Marie said, “Don’t we get a choice of what’s on it?”

“No. In Miami, a Cuban sandwich is ham, pork, pickles, mustard, and a little mayo. Otherwise it’s not a Cuban sandwich, and most places won’t sell it.”

When I tried to pay, Luis held up his hands. “Never from you.”

I thanked him and stuffed a ten in the tip jar.

As we sat in the air-conditioning of my car, Marie said, “Did he not charge you because you’re with the police?”

“Sort of. Years ago, he was robbed and his teenage daughter was pistol-whipped by the robber. There was no way to ID the suspect and Luis was too scared to give us many details. His daughter was a mess. She had two surgeries. It pissed me off,” I said. “So I put an offer out on the street for information about the guy.”