11

Reymundo Cruz was piloting Miss Jana toward Altair, a shining star in the east-southeastern sky. A fist-width to Altair’s lower left was Delphinus, the Dolphin, leaping leftward.

The stars soothed the captain’s anger. It had been twenty-four hours since Gorgonio raped the girl. Worse, she was lost, most likely dead. Reymundo did a sweep of the boat and she was not on it. He loathed human trafficking, but he detested rape. Had he known of Gorgonio’s intention, he would have stopped him.

The men were under strict orders from Rafael not to touch “the merchandise.” The site of ten attractive young girls changing clothes must have been too much for Gorgonio. Once the girls were off-loaded and the boat was underway, to him, the girl left onboard was fair game. Reymundo had been too busy navigating Miss Jana through a narrow channel full of small pleasure craft, tank barges, and large commercial vessels to notice what Gorgonio had been doing.

Reymundo didn’t know for sure what happened to the girl. Gorgonio swore he left her alive in the cabin. When morning came and she could not be found, Reymundo feared the worst. Either Gorgonio had killed her and dumped her body overboard, or she was so frightened from the rape and likely heard the threat to kill her, she decided swimming for shore was worth the risk.

The girl likely drowned. Her body would never be found and no one would ever know what happened to her. She might wash up on a beach somewhere along the Texas coast, labeled a Jane Doe, and never identified.

With the autopilot on, Reymundo scampered down from the flybridge and out the main salon door. He leaned over the rail and vomited, spit a few times, then took a deep breath. The sound of water lapping against the boat and the cool sea breeze were soothing. He assumed he was going to be picking up and delivering drugs. Not human cargo. Only when he reached Cuba, and the girls boarded, did he realize he’d been duped. Had he known, he may have taken more risks with Rafael.

The girls were told they were being used as mules to smuggle contraband into the United States. This kept them complacent for the journey across the gulf. They had no idea they were heading for a life as a sex worker. Reymundo wondered about the girls Jana had hired to entertain the frat boys. They must have been sex slaves as well. Those girls seemed happy and more than willing to have sex with the guys. Reymundo now knew it was not by choice.

On his way back to the flybridge, Reymundo wondered about Mayte. He couldn’t imagine what she’d gone through at the hands of Gorgonio. Being raped by him would be horrible in itself, but believing that he was going to kill her had to be terrifying.

Reymundo checked the navigation system. They would reach Miami in 108 hours, roughly four and a half days at their current speed. He had time but needed a plan. Another smuggling run was not an option, but without putting Rafael and Gorgonio in jail, or six feet under, there was a risk Rafael would follow through on his promise to kill him.

The jury was still out on Nestor. He seemed to be a decent guy, just caught up in Rafael’s bullshit, as Reymundo himself was. It was Nestor who had kept the 9mm pointed at him that day they burst onto the boat.

As the big trawler chugged across the Gulf of Mexico, Reymundo replayed the events, thinking about what he could have, or should have done differently. He should have done something.

Daylight began to show in the east. Altair was fading. Another evening alone with his thoughts was about to end for Reymundo. Gorgonio would be relieving him soon. He was not sure if he could maintain his control for four more days. Imagining the young Cuban girl drowning made Reymundo want to throw Gorgonio off the boat. He would steer the boat in a circle, watching him kick, splash, scream, and swear until he sank beneath the waves, never to rape again.

The noise from the galley below got Reymundo’s attention. It was too early for Gorgonio or Nestor. They’d been on the boat eight days, and neither had been up before the sun. For an instant, Reymundo hoped it was the Cuban girl. Maybe she had found a hiding place and had been on the boat the whole time. It had been three days. She’d have to come out for food and water. What better time than dawn?

Reymundo scurried down the steps to the main bridge. Hearing nothing, he crept around the corner to the galley.

“Hello, Captain,” Nestor said, watching the last of the coffee drip from the maker into his cup. “I can relieve you if you want.”

“Great. Thanks. Autopilot is on. Just watch for rigs and traffic.”

Nestor removed the cup from the machine and disappeared around the corner onto the bridge.

Reymundo sighed. Chances were slim, but he’d hoped the girl was still on the boat. Still alive. He made his way to his cabin and locked the door as a precaution. If anyone tried to open it while he was asleep, it would make enough noise to wake him. After a quick shower, he stretched out across his bed and fell asleep thinking of Jana.