Southern Comfort - Fern Michaels [82]
“Thank you. I know you mean no harm. I know when people are good, as I have seen so much evil.” She dropped her chin to her small chest again as though she were ashamed at what she’d just said.
Kate waited until Rosita looked up again. This seemed to be her way of avoidance when she felt sad or ashamed. Damn, she was thirteen and acted like an old woman. Whoever was responsible for this had better give his or her soul to God, because Kate planned to kick the living hell out of them. Big-time and legally, of course. But then again, maybe not. Perhaps among the four of them, they could just toss the low-life scum into the ocean for shark bait. Right now she would like nothing better.
“What are your parents’ names? I have a friend who will help me locate them. I’ll make arrangements for you to be with them immediately.” Kate mouthed, “Call Jelly,” to Sandy. Sandy gave her a thumbs-up.
Rosita’s eyes sparkled. “You can really do that, Miss Kate? Really?”
Kate didn’t want to disappoint the young girl any more than she’d been already, so she simply stated, “I promise to do everything within my power to find them for you.”
“My mother is Raquel Vasquez and my father is Felipe Vasquez.”
Sandy jumped out of her seat, searching for something to write with. Pete raced into the bedroom, returning in seconds with a pencil and paper.
“Can you spell those names for me?” Kate asked while Sandy prepared to take notes.
Rosita spelled their names out loud and clearly. Knowing what Kate was going to ask of her, Sandy spoke up before Kate had a chance to. “I’m calling Jelly now.”
Kate nodded and continued to question Rosita.
“Do you know who brought you and your cousins to the island? Do you have any idea how long you’ve been here?”
The young girl shook her head, “I do not know except it was a friend of Mateo’s. He is an American man. He kept telling us that we were very lucky to have him guide us into US waters because he was a very important man in the United States. He said some of the girls wouldn’t be so lucky. We did not know what he meant, so none of us really talked to him. The boat was fast, but it was very small. We were all cramped together, and there was not much water to drink. We were very hot. We asked the American if we could go inside, where it was cooler, because some of the girls became very ill from the rocky boat ride and the sun. He just hit the girl who asked.” Again, Rosita’s eyes filled with tears. This time, however, she did not bother to lower her head. “One of the girls”—she looked around the room as though she were afraid—“died. The boat man just pushed her into the water. I remember him saying he hoped the sharks were hungry for Cuban food.”
For the second time, those gathered around the small dinette table were silent. Such words coming from a thirteen-year-old was unheard of in their own world; but sadly in their line of work, they were accustomed to such stories. Kate stiffened nonetheless. She wasn’t so hardened that she did not feel for the young girl. Treatment of this caliber would most likely scar Rosita for life and maybe ruin whatever small chance she might have for a normal life. Taking a deep breath, Kate continued, trying to be as direct as one could in such a delicate situation without losing sight of her ultimate goal. Get as much information as she could on these bastards without hurting Rosita or, even worse, losing her trust. “Do you know what her name was?”
Rosita knuckled her eyes. “She was called Maria. That’s all. A lot of the girls were Maria.”
Figures, Kate thought.
“Could you take a guess at how old she was? Her true age?”
“Maybe fifteen?” Rosita said.
“Rosita, were the girls in the boat with you . . .” Kate paused, as she wasn’t quite sure how to word her next question. “Did any of the girls in the boat stay with your aunt Constance?”
“Oh yes. All twelve of them. Aunt Constance said they