Breakwater

by Jack Hardin

  “Neither,” Jet smiled back. “I was just looking for someone.”

  “You doing okay? No one’s given you any problems?”

  “No problems.”

  “This can be a trouble spot on the weekends, so we try to keep an eye on it. Who are you looking for?”

  “A man named Victor Cruz. Trying to collect on an old debt.”

  Thoughtful, the officer shook his head. “Haven’t heard of him.” He looked toward the bar and waved his hand. “Hugo is the owner. He might know.”

  But alarm bells were already sounding off in Jet’s head, screaming incessantly and blocking out the music, the loud babble, and the last part of what the officer had said. He forced himself to remain calm, and he took another pull off his beer.

  The officer had betrayed his words by the subtle shift of an eye, a momentary flash of recognition at the mention of Victor’s name that he was unable to repress, leading Jet to suddenly recall what Ellie told him about Nick: Cruz was with a police officer the night Nick found the invoices. He could think of no other reason for the officer to lie; it was the only thing that made sense. Jet glanced casually at his nameplate: “L. Gomez.” His shoulder patch had him with the Fort Myers P.D.

  Hugo, a hefty man with nondescript features, approached the table. Jet stood up, and Officer Gomez nodded toward him. “He’s looking for a Victor Cruz. Has he been in lately?”

  Hugo lied even worse. He blinked at Jet with wide, bright eyes, the way a child will when he has a mouthful of Skittles and his mother asks him if he’s seen the Skittles. Gomez noticed this and nervously cleared his throat. “What do you think, Hugo?”

  The bar’s owner swallowed hard. “No—I mean, not in months. He doesn’t really come in anymore. Why?”

  “Just trying to collect on a debt,” Jet said.

  “Oh. What kind?”

  “Unfortunately, that’s private. Do you think anyone else here might know where I can find him?”

  “No. No, they won’t know.” His smile was forced, and even in the low lighting, it revealed crooked teeth, leaning like unkempt tombstones.

  Jet finished his beer and set the empty bottle on the table. “Well, I appreciate the both of you trying to help.” He shook each man’s hand.

  “Sorry I couldn’t be more help,” Hugo said.

  Officer Gomez asked: “You want to leave your number or anything? Hugo can call you if he turns up.”

  “That’s all right.” He thanked them again and returned to his car.

  He smiled as he pulled out of the parking lot and turned back onto Kismet Parkway. His visit to the Ugly Pelican went far better than he’d expected.

  He didn’t get a lead on Cruz, but what he did find was far better.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The air in the windowless room was hazy with the smoke from half a dozen cigars. Cruz sat at his desk in the corner, bored, alternating his gaze between the monitors and his phone, which currently displayed the most recent NBA rankings. He would have liked to have gone to the Heat’s game tonight. They were playing the Celtics, and man, did he love his Celtics.

  He set his phone on the desk and looked across the room where eight men, Miguel Zedillo among them, sat around the card table playing poker, drinking spirits, and talking international business.

  Cruz paid them no mind. Their interests did not align with his. He would never broker overseas deals or manage acquisitions. He belonged to Zedillo, owed him nine more years, and that meant right now he was most concerned with finding a replacement for Felipe.

  Which was proving more difficult than he imagined when he kicked Felipe into the next life. Felipe had a style, a charm that easily put people at ease. Tito Sanchez had a similar way with the ladies, and Cruz had already pegged him for Felipe’s replacement. But yesterday Tito got in a bad car wreck, and the doctors weren’t even sure he was going to make it. So Cruz had to start his search all over again. Zedillo wanted to expand, and they couldn’t do that without more girls.

  The card game ended, and Zedillo waved Cruz over to the table. Zedillo held out an empty can of chewing tobacco. He spat into a cup. “Have someone get me another before I leave this evening.”

  Cruz took it and examined the label: Copenhagen Long Cut. “Yes, sir. I’ll have it for you.”

  Zedillo looked around the table and pushed his chair back as he came to his feet. “Gentlemen,” he said, “are we ready for the evening to begin?”

  Major loosened his bow tie and settled into his seat, turning the Jag onto Bayfront Drive and following it around Burns Square. “Major,” Ellie said, “that was a great evening. You helped a lot of kids, a lot of families tonight.”

  His lively demeanor cooled as he seemed to look back to a past Ellie couldn’t follow him into. “I only wish I had thought of that years ago,” he said quietly.

  The comment took her off guard. It lacked confidence and hinted at regret, both uncharacteristic of Major. “But you did it tonight. And that counts. Other than doing something like selling drugs, you’d have been hard-pressed to get your hands on the kind of money you raised tonight.”

  He remained thoughtful as he turned south onto Route 41. “I suppose so.”

  Ellie heard a short buzz come from her clutch. She opened it and withdrew her phone. The screen was glowing with a new email from Jet. She opened it, seeing just two addresses with no accompanying explanation. “You mind if I make a quick call?” she asked.

  “Not at all.” The light ahead turned red, and Major brought the Jag to a stop. Ellie dialed Jet, noting the time on the dashboard clock: ten forty-three.

  “Ellie, I didn’t mean for you to call me tonight,” Jet answered.

  “We’re on our way back. What are the addresses?”

  “I thought I’d try digging up locations associated with Breakwater. Since they’re a construction company, I started thinking that maybe they outfitted a place for the girls. And if not that, then since that old fire station seems out of play now, maybe another one of their properties is a base of operation. I still can’t find an office for them.”

  It made perfect sense, and Ellie couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it herself. “Did you go by the bar?” she asked.

  “I did. I didn’t get anything on Victor, but there’s a decent chance that I may have found the cop Nick was talking about.”

  Ellie’s fingers clutched tightly around the phone. “What?”

  “He was at the bar. But I’m still digging around on him. I know a couple of officers in the Fort Myers PD, but I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to get in touch with them.”

  “You still want to meet tomorrow and regroup?” she asked.

  “Yes. We’ve got church in the morning. I’ll text you after that.”

  After they hung up, Ellie slipped her phone back into her clutch. Earlier in the evening, she had spent the ride up to Sarasota telling Major about her investigation, something she had yet to broadcast to anyone. She told him about the email, Breakwater, and how her path merged with Jet’s. She told him about Juanita’s kidnapping, and that Nick was alive, staying at Tyler’s house until they found some resolution. Major said nothing until she was finished, but the entire time his fingers incrementally squeezed the steering wheel harder and harder.

  Now, as Major accelerated down Route 41, he looked over at his niece. She was pensive, staring out of the window. “What was that about?” he asked.

  “Jet’s connected a couple addresses that could be potential properties where the girls are being kept. It’s a long shot, but they’re up in this area.”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Tell me where to go.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  When he walked through the door, Juanita felt a paradoxical wave of relief. He wasn’t like some others, tall or fat, men who looked like they had eaten a small cow before they opened her door. This man was small—short and slim. He shut the door behind him and smiled at her with all the lust of a depraved demon. He was older, and his bushy
gray eyebrows were perched above cold, gray eyes. She stood next to the bed and waited for him to come to her.

  She set her hand over his belt buckle and began to unfasten it as he kissed her neck. Revulsion erupted inside her as the belt cleared the loopholes of his pants and she pulled it away from his body. She folded it and snapped it with authority. “Turn around,” she said. Zedillo gave her an understanding smile and did what she said. “Now get on your knees.” He said something vulgar that made her skin crawl, chuckled, and then got down on his knees.

  Juanita’s hands were trembling now. She hated this man, all the men previous, and all those responsible for bringing and keeping her here. She hated them all for what they had made her do. And for what she was about to do. Because tonight she was done. Tonight was the night she said, no more. She was taking her dignity back.

  Her next action could not be undone. It would, she knew, most likely fail. They wouldn’t tolerate such a rebellion, and she would be dead within the next five minutes.

  But it was worth the risk. There was no doubt in her mind about that. Her compulsion to get out of this place was undergirded by a vision of her brother’s tender face. Wherever Junior was, he wasn’t with family. He needed her. She needed him.

  Juanita brought in a deep, quiet breath and steadied her hands. She told the client to close his eyes, and she threaded the end of the belt back into the buckle. He chuckled again as she lifted the loop and slipped it down over his head.

  She dropped it to his neck and, with a single swift motion, pulled with all her might.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The Jaguar’s headlights cut a piercing path through the darkness. Ellie was watching the maps application on her phone. “Up here,” she said, and Major eased off the gas. “Take a left at the light.” They turned onto a rutted dirt road and moved slowly as the tires picked up small rocks and pebbles and threw them into the undercarriage. Major didn’t verbalize a desire to return the car in the same condition he’d borrowed it, but Ellie knew he was thinking it. His jaw was set tight, and he seemed to flinch with every knock and ping.

  On their left, a field was hemmed off from the road by a three wire barb fence, and to their right was a forest that had yet to be disturbed by human development. As they drove on, Ellie could feel nervous anticipation growing inside her. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was hoping to find, or what might serve to inform her that they had discovered the right location. But her experience told her she would know when she saw it.

  If she saw it.

  A half mile later, the mouth of a dirt driveway materialized and cut in through the trees. Ellie told Major to turn in. The road looked like it had recently been cleared. Bright, freshly cut tree stumps lined both sides of the lane, and piles of branches, bushes, and wild vines were stacked high. Major brought the car to a stop as the headlights illuminated the lot before them, which was naked save for a stack of rebar and PVC piping. Large mounds of dirt filled the back of the lot and sat up against the treeline. “Looks like they’re just getting to work on the foundation,” Major said.

  Ellie already had her phone out, and she punched in the address for the next location. Major cautiously negotiated the luxury car off the lot and back to the main road. “Next one is five miles south,” Ellie said.

  Outside, more forests and farmland set the night into a dark sheet of black. Even the stars were dismissed by a recent band of cloud cover. Up ahead, a small section of earth glowed bright and grew larger and more obnoxious the closer they got. It was a Sunoco, one of the few reminders that they hadn’t driven into a pre-modern past. Their eyes didn’t have time to adjust to the light, and they squinted as they passed and sped back into the darkness.

  “It infuriates me,” Major said, “that anyone would descend to trafficking women and girls.”

  “Me too. It’s beyond sick. Turn here.”

  They took a narrow paved road until it dead-ended at a wide metal building a half mile later. It was dark, with no illumination coming from any exterior lighting. A small window in the front was dark as well. There were no cars. With no way to conceal their presence, Ellie told Major to just drive up. “Give me a second.” She stepped into the night as Major cautioned her to be careful. There was no door of any kind at the front, so she walked to the side of the building, where she found a metal door. She tried the handle and was surprised to find the door opened to her. Inside it was dark and still, perfectly quiet. Her senses were on high alert as she felt for a light switch just inside the door. Her fingers found one, and she flipped it on. Halogens blinked on across a bare concrete floor. There was nothing here. No equipment, boxes, or desks. Not even a mousetrap. She walked across the floor, but there was nothing abnormal, nothing to indicate that she was standing in anything more than a vacant building. She went back out and shut the door behind her then walked the perimeter of the building to ensure she hadn’t missed anything. Disappointed, she returned to the car and got in.

  “Anything?” Major asked.

  “No. I found an unlocked door. The place is empty.”

  “Any other locations?”

  She shook her head. “Thanks for trying.”

  He swung the Jag around and sighed. “I’m sorry, kiddo.”

  Five minutes later, the lights of the Sunoco station glowed before them again. Major took his foot off the gas. “I’m going to grab a drink for the way back.” He turned into a parking space at the front. “You want anything?”

  “I’m good. Thanks.”

  While Ellie waited, she replied to Jet’s email, letting him know the locations were a bust. Then she replied to a text from her sister, who was curious to know how the gala went before setting her phone down and closing her eyes. She took in a deep breath.

  Her mind was racing now. Jet was on to something, pulling the addresses associated with Breakwater. Ellie suddenly wished it were tomorrow. She wanted to hear more about the cop Jet may have connected with Victor Cruz. She wanted to do the next thing, to follow the string, to pull it, and see if anything unraveled.

  They were getting close. So close, in fact, that she felt as though she could reach out and touch it. Ellie drummed her fingers on the tops of her legs and tried to think, reviewing every detail, every association to find something they could have missed. But nothing clicked; nothing slipped into place.

  Finally, she opened her eyes, and as they adjusted to the bright glow of the lights, she froze.

  Standing in line, directly in front of Major, was Victor Cruz.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  It was late, he was tired, and the dim lights over the highway created a steady pulse of rhythmic light that acted the part of a silent lullaby. Looking at the clock on his dash, he knew that a stop for coffee would be in order if he was going to make the drive back home tonight. The evening was encroaching on midnight, which meant completing the trip to Miami would put him back home in the early hours of the morning.

  His phone was sitting in a dock that was clipped to an air vent. It rang, and Cruz’s name appeared on the display. He swiped to answer it, then tapped the speaker icon. “Yes?”

  “Where are you?” Cruz asked.

  He heard a vehicle door slam on the other end of the call. He looked out the windshield at the passing sign perched over the highway. The white reflective lettering read back “Daniels Parkway.” “South Fort Myers,” he said. “Why?”

  “Gomez just called. Said some guy was poking around for me at the Ugly Pelican. When he left, Gomez got his plate and ran it. It’s that PI. You need to end this. And I mean right now. He’s getting too close.”

  He sighed, took his time replying. “Okay. I will.”

  “If you don’t make it look like an accident, they’ll search his case files. Don’t give them a reason to look into what he was working on.”

  “That won’t be a problem. Anything else?”

  “I think that’s enough.”

  He hung up and sighed once more. Leaning over, he checked
to ensure his weapon was in the glove box, and then he took the next exit, setting a course for Pine Island. And Jet’s house.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The attendant handed Cruz his receipt, and he came out of the store with what looked like a can of chewing tobacco. He stopped in front of a newspaper stand, and after tapping at his cell phone, he set it to his ear.

  The car keys were with Major, and Ellie couldn’t roll down her window. She set her fingers on the door handle and pulled slowly until the lock popped and the door opened a crack. Cruz started walking to the Tundra parked right next to Ellie. As he came around to the driver’s side, all Ellie heard him say was, “Where are you?” before he got in and slammed the door shut.

  Within seconds the Tundra’s engine roared to life, three hundred and eighty horses growling unashamedly into the quiet country air. Cruz quickly backed out of the parking space before switching gears and tearing out of the gas station.

  Ellie’s palms suddenly felt sweaty. Inside, the attendant answered a phone call and was standing idle while Major waited patiently. Ellie darted from the car and went inside, her heels clicking against the linoleum as she came up behind Major. She took him by the elbow. “Hey, we need to go.”

  Major turned and saw the urgency in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ll tell you outside.” Major abandoned his drink and followed Ellie back out the door. “That man who checked out in front of you. He’s the one who tried to kill Nick. He just left.”

  They got back in the car, and Major started it up. “Which way did he go?”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight