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“Bright and early tomorrow morning.”
John said, “Who did they pair you with?”
“Andre. We’re working plain clothes, so I don’t need my uniform.”
Randall said, “You’ve got something besides that little bikini, right? We can’t have you causing the entire male population of South Florida to walk around open-mouthed like they did in Lauderdale.” Hunter felt her cheeks
flush. She bent her plastic fork and snapped it on his bicep. She said, “Quit making me blush, you buttnut.”
Randall rubbed the spot, grinning, “I’m just sayin’.”
~*~
Andre picked up Hunter at her hotel the next morning and drove south toward Miami, saying, “We’re going to Krome to talk to some of the survivors and see what we can find out.”
“I thought ICE would be doing that.”
“They are, but the U.S. Attorney thought it would be a good idea if we ran at witnesses from two sides, then share information. Because of the deaths involved, he is going hard on this one.”
Hunter said, “How long have you been in the Border Patrol?”
“Eight years.”
“What do you think about what happened?”
“This case?”
“The smugglers and crew. Especially that guy with bullet holes for eyes.”
“I didn’t see him, only heard your description. But he’s the first one I want to ask these people about.”
“They’re scared of him.”
“With good reason. And we may not have an ID this minute, but we’re going to find out who he is and bring him in.”
Hunter said, “That’s the kind of talk I like to hear.” She leaned back in the seat and let her partner drive.
Andre passed through the gated Krome entrance an hour later and parked. He led the way into the facility where they were met by a Detention Officer who ushered them through the halls to a room with one table and three chairs.
The Detention Officer handed Andre the brown case file and said, “Her name is Molita Issone. The detainees just finished breakfast, so the officers are bringing her up now.”
“Thanks,” Andre said, and sat in one of the chairs. Hunter did the same as they both perused the file contents. Molita was the woman they initially talked to yesterday in Lauderdale, the one who spoke English.
The detention officer opened the door and let Molita enter the room. Andre pulled out the chair for her to sit, then walked around the table and sat beside Hunter so they both faced the Haitian woman. Molita looked scared.
Hunter said, “Its all right. No one can hurt you in here. You’re safe with us.”
Molita’s dark face and thin arms were shiny with perspiration. She said, “You don’t know them, what they can do. Let me go back with the others. Please.”
Andre said, “We only have a few questions to ask you, then you can go.”
Molita wiped beads of sweat from her forehead and said, “Ask.”
Andre said, “What is the boat captain’s name?”
The Haitian woman began shaking. “I heard one crewman call him Jean Claude.”
“Do you know his last name?”
