Though we were still in the shadow of the tall building, I noticed the tops of the coconut palms were lit with the first bright rays of the sun. I said, “I didn’t think I was going to see this morning. I really believed I was going to die out there, Racine.”
She squeezed my arm. “La Sirene would not allow it.”
Staring out the car window at the silver blue sky, I touched the still-damp pouch hanging around my neck. “I’m not sure who to thank, but I am thankful.” I twisted around on the car seat and faced her. “But now, I’d be so much more thankful if I could find Solange. Her father is going to make her a restavek again, here, as soon as he’s used her to get what he wants. But there’s something even worse. I don’t know what, but she needs our help, now.” I could not explain how I knew, not even to Racine.
She stretched her hands out toward me, palms up. I placed my hands in hers, and she said, “We will find the child, and the lwa will take care of this man. You are not the only one who has suffered a loss to him. Many have died on his boats. I told you I came that night looking for the Miss Agnes, hoping to find my sister?”
“I remember.”
“Her name was Erzulie.”
If my pounding on his hull didn’t wake Mike up, I had decided I was going to climb aboard his boat and roll him out of his bunk. The companionway hatch slid back just then and Mike’s tousled hair was the first thing out.
“Jesus H. Christ, what the blazes is going on out here?”
“Mike, get dressed. I need your help.”
During the drive south on the coastal highway, Racine and I had discussed how best to get Solange back. My first thought had been to go to the police, but Racine pointed out to me that I had absolutely no evidence to prove any of my story. And to make matters worse, she said, Joe was a retired law enforcement officer. Yes, I had witnessed him kill a man, but where was the body? It was my word against his, and whom were they more likely to believe? And, as for Solange, what could I accuse him of? Kidnapping his own daughter? I wondered if this was Racine’s natural Haitian fear of the police, or if she was right. She kept telling me not to worry, we would get her back and that the lwa would protect us.
I finally explained that I’d feel a lot more protected by a guy with a gun.
Mike rubbed his eyes. “Seychelle? I heard you were missing.”
“You heard wrong. Now come on. Put your pants on and let’s go.”
Mike emerged a few minutes later wearing a wrinkled T-shirt that read “Arms Are for Hugging” and had a circle and slash over a rifle. He sat on the cabin top and began strapping on his leg.
Racine looked at me with raised eyebrows, as though asking “This is the fellow who is going to protect us?” I knelt down and began to untie the dinghy painter and pointed for Racine to get into the boat.
“Geez, it’s hot out here already,” Mike whined. “What time of the god-awful morning is it, anyway?”
“It’s six forty-five, Mike. We’re taking your dinghy. Like your shirt. You’ve got your gun?”
He finished with his leg and smoothed his pant leg down over the prosthesis, but he made no move to get up. He said, “Sey, you asking about my gun makes me think I need to know just a bit more about where we’re going.”
This was the moment I had been dreading. Just because Mike was now retired didn’t mean that he no longer thought like a cop.
“Okay, Mike, here it is. Your buddy Joe D’Angelo is the brains behind this whole immigrant smuggling outfit. I’ve been to their place in the Bahamas. Mike, he shot and killed Gil Lynch right in front of me, then left me to die, dog-paddling in the middle of the Gulf Stream. Yeah, Malheur was the instrument that Joe usually used, but Joe’s a killer, too. And now he has Solange, and I’ve got to get her back.” I paused, knowing that what I was saying to him would sound so outrageous, he was probably thinking about hauling me off to a psych ward. “I know this is a lot to take on faith, and I’ve got nothing to prove any of it is true, but please, Mike, I need you to trust me here.”
Mike shook his head, then he looked up at me, squinting his eyes. “Joe D’Angelo?”
I nodded.
Mike sat there without moving for so long that I thought for certain he was going to say no. I had about given up and was beginning to formulate Plan B when he finally said, “Okay. I’m going to agree to go along on this one, Sey, against my better judgment. If this was anybody but you, I’d be saying you’re full of shit—and so would any cop. But the guys on the force don’t know you like I do. If it was a toss-up as to who to believe, they’d go with Joe. But I’ll go along with you—to a point. Let me talk to the man, alone. I don’t like what I see or hear, and” —he lifted the pant leg on his good leg and showed a small stainless revolver in a holster strapped to his ankle—“I’ll keep Mr. D’Angelo tied up while you ladies call the police. You realize, we’d better figure out a way to do this so he doesn’t know what’s up. Joe was a hell of a good cop.”
“From what I’ve seen, Joe was never a good cop. But he’s mighty good with a gun.”
On the ride up the river, we ignored all the speed limits, the manatee zones, and the no-wake areas. Even with the three of us in his dinghy, that twenty-five-horsepower Honda four-stroke of Mike’s pushed his dink up onto a plane, and we rounded the curves in the river sliding sideways, barely missing the yachts tied along the seawalls. Racine sat on the seat in front of the center console, her body rigid, her back straight, black dress flapping around her legs, eyes squinting into the wind. The closer we got, the higher the sun crawled up into the sky, the stronger I felt it. Solange needed help now.
After I told Mike the details of what had happened on Bimini, he brought me up-to-date on what had happened in Florida since I’d left. “You disappeared Saturday night along with the kid. Jeannie told me nobody realized Solange was gone until you all were off at Tugboat Annie’s. Then, when Elliot called in, and when they told him the kid was missing, it really hit the fan. Seems there was some girl on the pay phone at the restaurant, so he had gone to use the phone on the boat of a friend of his. He got back to the table at the restaurant, and you were missing, and so was his boat. He was pretty damn pissed, I reckon. By the time they figured out you musta been on that island freighter, the ship had been gone over an hour. Rusty found his boat and took off straightaway. Your brother Pit was on the first morning seaplane over there. Far as I know, they’re both still over in Bimini looking for you.”
We were passing the Larsens’ estate, my cottage, and Gorda. All looked deserted. I turned to Mike, but he had guessed my question. “Jeannie’s been taking care of your dog. She might have taken her over to her place last night.”
After a few more minutes, he said, “So what makes you so sure the kid’s in terrible trouble?”
“I can’t explain it exactly. What I do know for sure is that Joe told me he needed her to prove something to his other daughter. He evidently told her that he had a child in Haiti, and she wigged out. She wants him to take care of this half- sister of hers. She’s refused to let him see his grandson until he can prove that Solange is safely in the U.S. and being cared for. Joe doesn’t seem to give a damn about either one of his daughters, but this grandson is the male heir he’s always wanted. In fact, he intends to sell Solange as a restavek, but as far as the daughter knows, she’ll be living with this American family. I’m just hoping he’s still got the kid with him and that he hasn’t already sold her off to some family we’ll never find.”