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I said, “Don’t make me search those bushes, Bulldog.”

He mumbled, “Shit, man.” Then he turned and squatted to recover the plastic baggie. He handed it over to me without any more complaints.

I think that’s when Marie realized how he’d gotten his street name. His lower jaw jutted out and his bottom teeth rested on his upper lip when his mouth was closed, and although he was a thin man, he had drooping jowls.

Bulldog said, “You in narcotics now, Anti?”

“Don’t need to be a narcotics detective to spot a shitty dope dealer.”

“What’s this really about?”

I liked that he was smart enough to realize I didn’t give two shits about a minor street dealer. I said, “If you want me to toss this baggie down a sewer, then help us find a missing girl.”

Bulldog gave me an odd look.

I said, “The description we have is that she’s about sixteen, white, pretty, and blond. She has a thick foreign accent. She’s in a world of shit and I need your help.”

“I’m your man. What neighborhood you think she in?”

“Maybe downtown near the port. You got my number.”

“I’ll get everyone I know in on this.”

“I expect nothing less.”

Now I had a small army helping me find the missing girl.





CHAPTER 84





HANNA WAS DESPERATE to find her daughter. She couldn’t even think about what Josie might be going through. She didn’t believe the Russians would hurt Josie as long as they thought Hanna was getting them what they wanted. She had to find the Polish girl and the backpack—today.

She and Albert had cruised the streets near the port in an expanding pattern. She just didn’t have enough contacts in Miami to reach out for help.

Albert paced nervously next to her. His hand rarely left the butt of the pistol he’d bought. Near the interstate, in an area that clearly wasn’t visited by tourists, they checked homeless shelters. They had just walked through a shelter for homeless youth. The woman who ran the place wasn’t friendly, but she was efficient. She marched them through the nine rooms used to house young people, four of them per room. She spoke with a drawl that made it difficult for Hanna to understand her.

The woman said, “We get new kids most every day.”

Hanna noted the grimy walls and small, thin mattresses laid on the bare floor. It was spare, but probably better than sleeping in the street.

The woman said, “We don’t ask no questions. That’s why kids come here.”

Hanna thanked her, and she and Albert left.

Outside, a young man with tattoos around his neck and upper arms rushed up to them and said, “I heard you asking about a missing girl.”

Hanna showed him a photo of Magda on her phone. “Where can we find her?”

“Is there a reward?”

“Yes. Cash.”

“How much?”

Hanna rummaged in her small purse and thumbed through the wad of cash Albert had taken from the hotel clerk. She looked up at the young man and said, “Five hundred dollars.”

The tattooed kid turned his head in one direction, then the other. He played with the metal stud sticking out of his lower lip. He reached in his pocket and paused.

When his hand came out of his pocket, it held a knife. He raised it to Hanna’s face. As he moved, the young man said, “Give me the cash. Maybe I’ll find the girl later.”

Before Hanna could answer, Albert had his hand around the kid’s throat. He mashed the barrel of his pistol hard against the young man’s temple.

Without a word, the young man dropped the knife and took a step back. Albert faced him and said, “Tell me the truth. Have you seen the girl? Do you know where she is? Anything other than the truth will be the last thing you ever say. Understand?”

Albert pushed him against a wall. The young man was shaking. The pistol was still pressed against his temple.

The young man swallowed hard, then gathered the courage to say, “I swear to God, I never seen that girl before. I just needed money.”

Albert said, “Then give me a reason not to blow your head off.”

The kid said, “There are a bunch of other homeless shelters. That’s where I’d look.”

Albert pulled the pistol back to smack the would-be robber in the face, but Hanna caught his wrist and said, “We have other things to do. C’mon, Albert.”





CHAPTER 85





THEY TOOK THE tattooed kid’s advice and started searching south of the port. It was now stretching into the afternoon, but Hanna was far too panicked about her daughter to give up.

On almost every street, Albert constantly swiveled his head, looking in every direction. He was afraid they were being watched.

Hanna said, “Who would be watching us?”

“I don’t know. The police. The Russians. This is not paranoia.”

“You’re right. It’s gone past paranoia. I agree we can’t trust anyone, but the police don’t know we’re here, and the Russians already have Josie.” She hadn’t meant to raise her voice so much, but she was losing patience with her brother.

Behind one homeless shelter in downtown Miami, they noticed an alley where several people were lying on blankets or sitting on pallets. Hanna couldn’t pass it by. When she stepped into the alley, the first thing she saw was a man who had been savagely beaten recently. He was holding a bloody towel to his forehead. His nose looked like it had been broken. Both of his eyes had swollen almost shut. His lower lip was split and clearly needed stitches.