“What happened, Jeannie?” I asked.
Rusty crossed to the front door and looked down into the yard.
“The bastard cut the screen with a machete,” she said. “I grabbed the gun when I heard the alarm go off. When I got into the hallway, he was coming through the door swinging that big old blade. I guess he heard me pump the action on the gun. He must have jumped back and to the left, behind the wall. I’m pretty sure I winged him, though.”
“The cops are here,” Rusty said, looking through the remains of the screen. He turned around and looked at Jeannie. “You definitely grazed him. I followed the guy through the backyard, over the fence, and into the street, but he must have had a car waiting back there. He was losing blood all the way. Anyway, get the kids settled back down. The cops will be up to talk to you when I’m done.” He started out through what was left of the door.
Jeannie made coffee after the kids got settled, and we sat in the living room, wired on caffeine and adrenaline but too tired to talk. A couple of uniformed cops had searched the apartment, examined the torn-up doorway, then just stood there, hands clasped behind their backs, staring at us, waiting. For what, I wasn’t sure. I should have known that a call that involved Solange and me would end up getting to Collazo. I shouldn’t have felt surprise when the raggedy screen door scraped open, and I heard his voice saying, “Miss Sullivan ... again.”
After Collazo, more uniformed officers came through the door, followed by several folks in plainclothes. I didn’t know if they were detectives or technicians. The living room was getting damned crowded. Rusty brought up the rear. They all huddled around the door and mumbled, examining the damaged wall and wood.
Collazo pointed to the shotgun lying where I had left it. He looked at Jeannie. “That weapon belongs to you.”
“You asking me?”
“Jeannie, that’s just his way,” I said. “He doesn’t ask questions. You get used to it after a while.”
She shook her head. “Yes, that shotgun is registered to me, and I am the one who fired it tonight at some dirtbag who was trying to break into my house, waving a machete around.”
“He was entering through the front door.”
Jeannie glanced at me as though to say What is this guy’s problem? I just shrugged. I was enjoying the fact that his non-questions weren’t aimed at me.
Jeannie told the story with the accuracy that one would expect from a lawyer. Her description of the guy made me certain it had been Le Capitaine.
Cops and technicians had been coming and going, and none of us paid them much mind, but when Agent D’Ugard arrived, there was a noticeable straightening of the spines of all the men in the room. She nodded to Collazo and then headed straight for Rusty. When the two of them disappeared into Jeannie’s bedroom in the back of the house, my imagination went into overdrive. I was still staring down the hall when I heard my name.
“Miss Sullivan, your story.”
I blinked. “Oh, okay. Well, I need to back up a little and tell you about what happened earlier this evening. Then, maybe all the rest of this will make sense.” As I told Collazo what had happened in Pompano, I kept glancing down the hall, wondering what they were doing back there. Collazo took in the dead chickens and Voodoo rituals without so much as a blink. Unlike Rusty, this man knew his home turf. “I thought I had really paid attention on the drive back from Pompano, and I didn’t see anybody follow us back here. I don’t know how he knew where to find us.”
“That’s the problem with amateurs,” Collazo said.
” I have to agree with Detective Collazo.” It was Agent D’Ugard, with Rusty close at her side. They’d just come out of the bedroom. I checked for disheveled clothes or hair, then felt silly for doing it. I cursed my own dirty mind and wondered why I would even care.
“The events of this evening,” she continued, “as related to me by Agent Elliot, are proof enough that you cannot guarantee this child’s safety here.” She turned to Rusty. “You mentioned a group home where you house alien children.” Jeannie opened her mouth and started to protest, but Rusty jumped in and through sheer volume took control of the conversation.
“We need to move them all. Not just the child. None of them are safe here tonight. Even if we remove the girl, there’s no way of being certain they won’t come back here later looking for her. We need a safe house where we can keep this entire family protected.”
Collazo turned to Rusty, a faint smirk dancing around his mouth. “Mr. Elliot, nobody at the department is going to authorize taking all of them to a safe house. There is no evidence Ms. Black is in that kind of danger.”
“Look at my door,” Jeannie shouted.
“Ma’am, there are break-ins in this neighborhood every night.”
“Oh, so you think this was just some crackhead looking to make a score? With all the million-dollar waterfront homes less than two blocks away, you think some whack with a machete is going to choose this dump to rob?” Jeannie threw her hands into the air and began walking in circles, talking to herself. Collazo was right, though. There wasn’t really any way to prove that this incident had been directed at Solange.
“Listen, Maria, Detective Collazo”—Rusty nodded at them each in turn—“what about this idea: I have a little condo down on Hollywood Beach. What if I take them down there? It’s a three-bedroom unit. We could ask the Hollywood PD to keep an eye on the place, and I’ll sleep there tonight. What do you say?”
Agent Maria D’Ugard shook her head and whipped out a tiny cell phone. She walked over to the kitchen as she dialed.
Collazo wandered over to the door frame. The crime scene team had finished with their photos and the removal of several pieces of shot from the wooden door frame. He picked at the plaster with his fingernail and looked outside through the gaping screen.
When Agent D’Ugard finished her call and snapped her phone shut, I said, “May I speak to you for a minute?”
She jerked her head in the direction of Jeannie’s kitchen. Once out of earshot of the others, she crossed her arms and said, “Go ahead, Miss Sullivan.”
I didn’t think she looked too receptive, but I dove in anyway. “There’s something I found out tonight about this alien smuggling ring. Something I thought you and the DART people ought to know about.”
“Why not tell this to Collazo or Elliot? Why me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you’re a woman? I know that doesn’t make much sense, but what I am going to tell you is going to sound far-fetched. I’m certain the guys in there would dismiss it. You’re my best bet. Anyway, here’s the deal. It seems these people are importing kids and placing them as restaveks in homes here in the States.”
“And what are restaveks?” Her tone of voice couldn’t have been more mocking.
“In Haiti, when a family has too many kids, and they can’t feed them all, they send off some kids to live with and work for other families. They are basically child slaves. Now they are importing this practice to the United States.”
“So you think they’ve started up the slave trade again? Haiti? The first country in the Americas to outlaw slavery?”
“Yes, strange as that sounds, that’s exactly what I’m telling you. There are child slaves working in the suburbs of Fort Lauderdale, right under our noses.”
“Miss Sullivan, why don’t you leave the investigating to the professionals? That’s preposterous.”
“Think about it. They double their money. The family in Haiti pays to have their children taken to the U.S., and the families in the U.S. pay the smugglers to get a domestic worker who needs no Social Security or even wages. They don’t even send these kids to school. Remember the two girls who drowned off the Miss Agnes? Don’t you think it’s odd that we’re seeing so many more unaccompanied minors?”