by Lincoln Matt
“That could be,” Ethan agreed. “But, it still bothers me.”
“Hard to think it’s just a coincidence, given the mask thing with the airport incident,” Holm agreed.
“Possibly,” Alejandra said. “But I’m inclined to believe that they were just wearing those masks to play into Dominican fears about Haitians. And they only put them on when they realized they were caught. And they weren’t wrong, look what’s happening now. Everyone’s scared to death of the cartel, and they’re dominating the narrative on both sides of the island.”
“That could be the case with the kids, though, too, right?” Ethan asked, taking a sip of water. “If the drug dealers are putting on masks to scare people while they’re tripping, it could just be playing into that narrative, keeping the schtick going beyond that one incident.”
“It could be,” Alejandra agreed. “Though why would they want to scare their own customers?”
“That is a good question,” Ethan relented. “Though none of those kids seemed like they would want to use the drug again, so maybe it’s not the same kind of drug that we’re thinking of.”
“Not a party drug, you mean?” Holm asked as he cut up some chicken. “More like a roofie or something?”
“Yeah, maybe,” Ethan said. “I mean, after hearing what those kids said about it, do you think anyone would willingly do that to themselves?”
“So they took it, not just the girl who died,” Alejandra said.
“It seemed that way,” Ethan confirmed. “Though their blood tests didn’t show anything. Well, except all the other drugs they did at the party.”
“Neither did the victim’s,” Holm pointed out.
“What did they say ingesting the drug felt like?” Alejandra asked.
“That was difficult to sort out, too, but they said something about being outside their bodies, or feeling like they were dead but watching what was happening from above,” Ethan said. “It was strange, and then when we tried to press for more details, that’s when they all just kind of gave up. We told the officers to try talking to them again later.”
“Yeah, they were all still pretty out of it,” Holm said. “Not like they were still totally high, but like there was some lingering effect on them, making them disoriented and out of sorts.”
“Odd,” Alejandra said, helping herself to a couple of crab legs. “And no, that doesn’t sound like something they would want to try again. Did they seem disturbed by it, or like it was an addictive experience in any way?”
“No, that’s the strangest part,” Ethan said. “People who take these drugs, they may not love how it makes them feel all the time, they may hate how it makes them feel after the fact, and they may want to stop consuming them, but they’re still addicted. They still have the urge to do it again. These kids didn’t sound like that at all, did they?” He turned to Holm.
“I mean, they were speaking Spanish, but they didn’t sound happy about any of it to me,” Holm confirmed. “The way she described it, it sounded like something out of a bad horror movie.”
“That’s another weird thing she was trying to say that the officer couldn’t translate,” Ethan remembered. “She said it was like something out of a movie.”
“A movie?” Alejandra repeated. “What kind of movie?”
“I don’t know,” Ethan said. “Díaz, that’s the officer, he didn’t seem to have any idea what she was talking about.”
“Maybe she just meant what I said,” Holm suggested with a shrug. “That it was like something out of a horror movie.”
“Maybe,” Ethan agreed. “And if what the other kid said about the mask was true, and not just something he hallucinated while tripping, that could add to that theory.”
“Are there a lot of horror movies about Haitian voodoo here in the Dominican Republic?” Holm asked Alejandra with a chuckle.
“It’s not an uncommon topic,” Alejandra said. “As I said, fear of the Haitians runs deep. So it’s not a huge stretch that that might be what she meant, although who knows, given her state of mind. It might not have meant anything at all, and she was just saying random words.”
“That’s also possible,” Holm admitted. “So, these overdoses are becoming more common?”
“They’re a daily occurrence now, here in the border towns, and they’re getting to be that frequent in big cities like Santo Domingo,” Alejandra confirmed. “And on the Haitian side, well, it’s far, far worse.”
“What do you know about that?” Ethan asked, taking another drink to wash down the chicken.
“Very little, admittedly,” Alejandra said. “Their government has gone much quieter in recent weeks, and most of the border traffic is from Haiti to the Dominican side, not the other way around. But there’s more contact in the border towns, and there are whispers that it’s gotten very bad.”
“So the gang’s basically taken over there,” Holm gathered.
“It appears that way,” Alejandra sighed. “It’s unfortunate. We really thought we might finally be getting somewhere with our efforts to repair relations between our two countries. And now this.”
“You’ll get back on track,” Ethan assured her. “We’ll make sure of it. That’s why we’re here, after all.”
“You’re here to investigate the murder of an American,” Alejandra reminded him.
“A supposed American,” Ethan pointed out. “He had dollar bills on him, right? So he might just be someone who’s been to the States recently.”
“It’s possible, but there aren’t any people native to the island, even on the Dominican side, that are quite that white,” Alejandra said with a smile. “Though admittedly, his features were blurred by all the bullet holes.”
“Did he look like he was trying to cross the border?” Ethan asked. She nodded.
“It looked like he was coming from the Haitian side,” she confirmed. “Although who knows, he could’ve turned around when they started shooting at him.”
“Has the crime scene been preserved?” Ethan asked.
“Yes, I made sure the patrol officers knew you were coming,” Alejandra said. “We should head down there early in the morning, just to make sure. Perhaps you can find something they missed.”
“Agreed,” Ethan said. “Whoever this man is, if he’s American, there has to be a record of him somewhere.”
“And if he’s involved with a gang, there’s an even better chance he has a record of his own,” Holm added.
“Taking his fingerprints will be the first step,” Ethan said. “That should give us something.”
“You think he must have been involved with this gang somehow?” Alejandra asked. “Couldn’t have just been a ‘wrong place, wrong time’ scenario?”
“Well, if he is American, it’s unlikely he would be in Haiti and turn up dead if he wasn’t involved somehow,” Ethan said. “Your father and his associates seemed pretty well convinced that he didn’t come into the island through the Dominican side. Otherwise, there would be a record of him there.”
“Yes, I’m certain that the officers ran his prints and any facial recognition software they have,” Alejandra agreed. “Though I’m less certain that our technology and security is as expansive and reliable as our government would like to think.”
“Well, we’ll know more tomorrow,” Ethan said, wiping his mouth with a napkin and rising from his chair as he motioned for the waitress to bring the check. “We should turn in, though, get some rest. It’s been a long day for everyone.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Holm said, getting up and following Ethan and Alejandra out of the restaurant after they paid their bill.
They took the elevator to the third floor. Their rooms were all lined up next to each other, which Alejandra was uncharacteristically pleased about.
“I’ll meet you bright and early,” Holm told them as he slipped inside his own room, leaving Ethan and Alejandra alone in the hallway.
“It really is good to see you again, Agent Marston,” Alejan
dra said, looking up at him. “Circumstances excluded, of course.”
“Please, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Ethan,” he chuckled, meeting her eyes. “And I’m just glad you didn’t get yourself in any trouble, going out to a murder scene like that.”
“Well, at least I’ll have you with me the next time,” she laughed.
“That does sound better,” Ethan agreed.
Alejandra’s stomach did another one of those flipping things again. What was it about this particular man that got him so stuck in her head all the time? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she didn’t really mind, either.
“Well, I will see you in the morning, then,” Ethan said, giving her a smile.
“Yes, in the morning,” she said, and then, right before he was about to scan his card to open the door of his room, she reached up and kissed him.
He seemed surprised at first, but then he kissed her back for a long while.
“So, would you like to stay?” he asked when he finally pulled away from her.
“I would,” she said, grinning at him, and she followed him into his room.
CHAPTER 8: Ethan
The next morning, Alejandra and I met Holm in the lobby for a light breakfast buffet that was set up near the front of the room by the clerks’ desks. There were pastries and coffee set out for the conference attendees, though it didn’t look like there were many of them up yet. There were a couple scattered about the lobby, sitting in comfy chairs or leaning against the wall and talking amongst themselves.
I noticed a couple of Dominican men in suits casting us strange glances. Finally, one approached us.
“Ms. García,” he said, giving Alejandra a very fake smile. “Have you brought some friends here to join our proceedings?”
“Oh no,” Alejandra said. “These are just my good friends, Ethan and Robbie. They were coming down to the island on vacation, and since I couldn’t go to them, they decided to come to see me.”
I remembered what Alejandra had said about these guys not getting along and making the whole cartel situation worse, so I decided to just go with this story.
“Yes, we got some vacation time racked up and decided to check out the resorts down here,” I said. “We came down to see Alejandra for a couple of days.”
“Now, Ms. García, I knew you were bored by our negotiations, but you’re not going to be running out on us early now, are you?” the man asked, and he looked just a little too keen on this idea for my comfort.
“Oh no, Mr. Ramírez, I’ll just be gone for a little while this morning,” Alejandra said, donning an equally fake smile on her face. “Then I’m all yours.”
“Ah, I’m very glad to hear this,” the guy said, but he looked quite the opposite as he turned and left.
“I see you’re popular around here,” I chuckled when he was safely out of earshot.
“Oh yeah, they love me,” Alejandra said, rolling her eyes. “I make them all feel so comfortable with my questions and concerns about the way they’re handling this problem—or not handling it.”
“What time is your first meeting?” Holm asked. “We wouldn’t want to keep you from your important work.” He winked at her, and she laughed.
“I should be back around ten, so that gives us a few hours,” she said. “But in all seriousness, I should be here. It’s important that my father’s administration is represented, and that there’s some semblance of sanity in the room.”
Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to see a long message from Díaz, the young officer who had helped Holm and me interrogate the teenage witnesses back at the hospital.
“It’s Díaz,” I told the others after I’d read the message. “He tried to talk to the kids again this morning. He said they mostly said more of the same stuff, but they were able to figure out what apartment building they were at and were able to ID the victim. They’re going to talk to her family this afternoon.”
“Damn,” Holm said. “I’d hate to be them right now.”
“It’s never a fun conversation to have,” I agreed. “I wish those kids made some more sense, though. Especially about that mask. That’s the most interesting part for me.”
“Well, let’s go check out this murder scene,” Holm said. “That’s always a treat.”
“The officers will meet us down the road,” Alejandra said, checking her watch. “Then drive us there. They should be arriving soon.”
With that, Holm and I followed her out and down the narrow, empty dirt road. There wasn’t much around the hotel, just a few random shops and restaurants. I didn’t see any homes anywhere, but I imagined they had to be somewhere.
“Has there been a lot of drug activity here?” I asked.
“Not as much,” Alejandra said. “This area is even more remote than the others, which is why we chose it. We didn’t want the cartel showing up at our meetings.”
“Yeah, that would be an obstacle,” I chuckled.
There was a dirty old Jeep waiting for us a short way down the road so as not to raise any suspicion about our purposes there from the conference attendees, with two uniformed officers with guns sitting in the front seats.
“You are from MBLIS?” the driver asked Holm and me in a thick accent.
“Yes, I’m agent Holm, and this is my partner, Agent Marston,” Holm said, and we both flashed our badges.
“You still have the crime scene preserved?” I asked.
“To the best of our ability,” the other officer said. He spoke better English. “It’s about an hour’s drive from here.”
And so Holm, Alejandra, and I all piled into the back seat. The car didn’t seem to have air conditioning, so we could feel the sun beating down on us.
We didn’t talk much on the drive over. I checked my phone compulsively to see if there was any more news from Díaz, or from Bonnie and Clyde back in Miami, but nothing came in. I reminded myself that it was still early.
Eventually, we got to the point where we were just rolling along a long fence. The scenery changed over time. Sometimes there was green, sometimes just dirt, and there were always mountains off in the distance.
“I gather that’s the border,” I told Alejandra, gesturing at the fence.
“More or less,” she confirmed. “It’s fudgy in some places, and there isn’t always a physical barrier, but yeah.”
Finally, we approached an area with a small, boxy tan building on the Dominican side.
“That’s the border patrol outpost,” Alejandra explained. “The crime scene isn’t far from here.”
Sure enough, the Jeep rolled to a stop not long before we reached the building. I noticed a tarp spread over an area near the fence.
“We found him right over here,” one of the officers explained. “We removed the body but covered everything to protect evidence from the elements.” He hopped out of the Jeep and beckoned for us to follow him.
One of the officers showed me a picture of the body in the original crime scene. The guy was a real mess, and it was obvious that the crime had been committed at least a day earlier. His blood was hot and sticky, and it looked like he’d been lying out in the sun for too long. His entire torso was riddled with bullet holes.
“Well, he doesn’t look Haitian,” Holm reasoned. “And he doesn’t look Dominican either, so you were right about that.”
I bent down to get a closer look at the guy. He was blond and looked to be in his mid-to-late forties, not old but not particularly young anymore either. His hair had a few specks of gray in it, and he had a pretty decent amount of stubble, as though he hadn’t had access to a razor for a few days.
His clothes were just a regular hoodie, jeans, and tennis shoes. It all looked like something you could buy at Target, but that didn’t mean he was American.
“You said he had money on him?” I asked the officers. “Was there anything else?”
“No, just this,” the nearest officer said, handing over the money in a bag. It was ju
st a few singles and five-dollar bills. There were some bloodstains on them.
“You ran his prints?” I asked.
“Yes, we gathered up lots of evidence,” he said. “We can send what we found over to your office if you want.”
“That would be appreciated, thanks,” I said. “And as quickly as you can.”
“I’ll have one of my guys do that now,” he said, signaling to one of the other officers and speaking to him in Spanish. Then they both disappeared inside the building.
“Let’s case the scene,” I told Holm. Then, to Alejandra, “Stick close to us.”
She nodded and followed us as we began to walk up and down the fenced area.
“Can we go into the Haitian side?” Holm asked, looking out across to the other side of the fence.
“No one will stop us if we do, at least not officially, but we should stick here for now,” Alejandra suggested. “If we go over there, it’s basically going straight into enemy territory with the way things are now.”
“Noted,” Holm said. “So, we’ll put a pin in that for later.”
“Hold on,” I said, pointing to something in front of us, on the other side of the fence. “What is that?”
I squinted and leaned in against the fence, trying to see it more closely. It looked like something was buried beneath the dirt, but not intentionally. It was just obscured by the fence and the surrounding mud.
“I don’t know,” Holm said with a shrug. “Looks like it could be a stick or something.”
“No, I think I see threading,” I said, pointing. “Don’t you see that?”
Frustrated, I looked both ways and then hopped up on the fence.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” one of the patrol officers screamed from where he and the others stood back by the outpost. Then he screamed something at me in Spanish.
“He says you should get down,” Alejandra said nervously. “He says that it’s not safe, the cartel could be watching.”