12

“How would you like to take a ride with me? Get out of the house for a while?” Alexander asked.

“I’d love to,” May replied, excitement written all over her face.

It had been three days since Alexander had pulled her from the gulf. Her cuts and scrapes were healing and there was no sign of an infection.

“I thought we might drive up to Kemah. Maybe you’ll recognize the dock where the girls disembarked or maybe the marina where they got fuel. We aren’t making much headway sitting here.”

“Sounds fun.”

“We’ll even stop for lunch somewhere. I’m sure you’re getting tired of canned soup and frozen pizza.”

“Not that I mind, but lunch out would be good. Let me change my clothes.” May had been wearing a variation of what she had worn her first morning with Alexander – an extra-large T-shirt and shorts. She disappeared into the room she had been living in and, a few minutes later, came out wearing a colorful floor-length sundress. The dress was snug but looked good on her.

Alexander had two cars. A mint condition 2005 MINI Cooper and a late model Ford Escape. He loved the MINI. He enjoyed extracting his six-foot four-inch frame from the car and watching people wonder how he fit in it.

For the day’s drive, he selected the Escape. It was more comfortable than the MINI, less jaw-jarring over bumps in the road, but less fun to drive. He threw a couple of plastic bottles of water in a cooler and dumped some ice on top. “That should hold us. If we need more, we can stop and pick some up. Ready?”

The two drove the short distance from the beach house to Highway 87, the only road on and off Bolivar Peninsula. “We have to take the ferry to Galveston. It’s the only way to get to the mainland. Well, you can go the opposite way, but it’s the long way and takes about two hours to get all the way around. On the weekends, when you have to wait up to two hours for the ferry, it’s almost worth it, but we shouldn’t have a wait today.”

May studied both sides of the road as Alexander drove. After a few miles, she said, “This is not what I expected America to look like.”

“This isn’t what America looks like. This is Bolivar. Let’s just say it’s unique. Actually, the United States is unique. You have areas like this that are kind of sparse. Notice how most of the houses are up high and fairly new?”

“I did notice. They look nice.”

“It didn’t use to look like that. In 2008, Hurricane Ike roared through here and took all but the newest of houses with it. Only the later ones, the ones built to the latest codes to withstand hurricanes, survived. Whole towns were wiped out.”

“That happened in Cuba in 2018. I think it was Irma. Destroyed parts of some towns. Where we were, we were okay. Not too much damage. Everyone said we were lucky. I’ve been in a couple of hurricanes, but none were bad.”

“I wasn’t here in 2008. There was a mandatory evacuation. Everyone was told to leave, or they would die. Most people left. Those who didn’t, all but maybe a couple died. If a hurricane enters the gulf, coming this way or not, I leave.”

“That’s scary. I would leave too.”

“Here’s the ferry landing,” Alexander said as he slowed the Escape. “A boat is coming, and the line is short. This won’t take long.”

The Escape eased over the ramp, and Alexander followed the directions of the deckhand. When he signaled, Alexander stopped the car and turned off the engine.

“Do you want to get out? Walk around the boat?” Alexander asked.

“Sure.”

The two walked to the front of the boat as it was pulling away from the ramp. Seagulls were gathering, waiting for handouts from the ferry passengers.

“This isn’t bad,” Alexander said, looking out across the bow.

“It’s kind of pretty. I don’t think I have seen water this color before. In Cuba, the water is blue, or turquoise, or clear.”

“Unfortunately, you aren’t going to see water like that around here. Too much silt washing in from the rivers. Occasionally, we’ll get medium-clear water, but not often. We’ll be heading up to Clear Lake later. Don’t let the name fool you.”

“What’s up there?” May asked, pointing toward the observation deck of the ferry. “Can we go?”

“Sure. Come on.”

Alexander led May to the entrance of the stairs leading to the observation deck. “Are your legs okay?”

“Yeah, they’re fine.”

As the two walked around the observation deck, Alexander explained they were crossing Galveston Bay, the same bay used by the boat she had been on. He pointed toward the north jetty, visible in the distance. “Somewhere out there is where you jumped off the boat. Probably quite far out since you ended up on the other side of that jetty.”

May pointed to the tankers anchored in Bolivar Roads. “I remember all those big ships. When I was in the water, I felt had I jumped sooner, I could have swum to one of them, but Gorgonio, the man who was going to kill me, I could hear him. I had to wait until he fell asleep. By then, we were way past the ships.”

“It’s good you didn’t. I doubt anyone would have heard you. But if any of those ships were moving when you were floating around, you would have been sucked under. All things considered, what happened was likely the best that could’ve happened. You were lucky.”

“I was lucky you found me. Thank you. I mean it. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“I’m glad I found you. Don’t worry about thanking me. I’m happy to help.” Alexander paused for a few seconds. “Now we need to find your sister.”

May stood on her tiptoes, stretched as high as she could, and gave Alexander an awkward hug.

He patted her on the back. “We’re about to dock. Let’s get back to the car.”

Rather than take Seawall Boulevard, the long way around Galveston, Alexander chose to take Broadway – the main street through the island. Even with stoplights at every intersection, which they managed to hit most of, it was quicker. May commented on how it looked a little like Cuba. All the old houses. The cars were nicer.

Broadway Boulevard merged onto Interstate 45 toward Houston. Not long after they crossed the causeway over the bay and onto the mainland, Alexander exited onto Highway 146 toward Seabrook.

“May,” Alexander said, turning off the main road into a marina. “When you described where you dropped the girls off, you said you went around a corner before you docked. I have a good idea where that is. It’s going to look different from this side than it did from the boat, but hopefully, you will recognize it.”

Alexander drove slowly through the marina. It had been a while since he’d been there. The narrow private road meandered around rows of boats tied to floating docks. He ended up on several dead-ends before finding the single, 300-feet long dock connected to land by a lone pier.

He pulled the Ford into a parking spot. “Does that look like where the girls got off?”

May studied the dock. “No, I don’t think so. Where we were, the cars that picked up the girls parked right in front of the boat.”

“Okay, let’s try the next one.” Alexander backed out and continued around the marina. They passed a drydock area where several boats were being worked on.

“That’s it,” May yelled as they rounded the curve. “That’s where they were. I know it. See how it splits? Go that way.” She pointed to a paved area to the right that led to a small parking lot in front of a long dock.

Alexander parked, the front of the Escape facing the dock. A large motor yacht and several smaller ones were berthed to it. “I can see why they chose this place. It’s right on the channel, easy to get to, and it’s secluded. There are a few boats around, but no buildings and few people and look at this little parking lot. They can pull right in, pick up their contraband, and be gone before anyone’s the wiser.” He wished he’d used a different term but when looked at May for a reaction, he didn’t see one.

“Oh my God. This is the place.” May pointed at white outlines on the pavement. “Look, over there, that’s where they parked. They met the girls over by the ramp, walked them over to the big cars, got in, drove out, U-turned, and went that direction.” She pointed in the direction from which they had come.

“That’s the way out. What a perfect place for some nefarious dealings. You said the boat left as soon as the girls were off, right?”

“Yes. What’s nefarious mean?”

“Essentially, it means bad. I mean, worse than bad. Despicable. Wicked. Like what happened to those girls.”

“I like that word. Nefarious.”

“After the girls were unloaded, do you remember what the boat did? Where it went?”

“Yeah, it went that way.” May pointed up the channel. “It made a big U-turn and came back by here, went around that sharp corner. Right after the corner, they stopped for gas.”

Alexander was impressed she remembered the details as clearly as she did. Within a couple of hours of leaving this dock, she had been raped, her life threatened, and she had been forced to spend a night in the ocean, not knowing if she would see morning. Alexander was amazed that she remembered anything.

“Yep, right around the corner. Blue Marlin Fuel Dock. That has to be where they got fuel.”

May was grinning. Alexander assumed she believed the dock’s discovery and, most likely, where they bought fuel would help them find her sister. But, unless they could get a solid lead from the fuel dock, they were no closer to finding Briana than they were the morning he pulled May out of the water.

It took only a few minutes to drive around the corner to the fuel dock. Alexander parked in the lot next to the office.

“This is where we got gas,” May said. “I remember those three big tanks.”

“You stay here. I’ll go in and see what I can find.”

May frowned, but agreed.

Although it was a fuel dock, they sold everything from ice and beer to suntan lotion and live bait. A woman in her mid-to-late fifties was working behind the counter. A couple of men in Blue Marlin T-shirts were standing near the beer coolers.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked.

“I hope so. I’m a private investigator trying to track down a boat. I was hired by a woman in Miami who’s going through a divorce. The soon-to-be ex-wife wants the boat sold and her husband took off in it. She wants him found and papers served. The boat is big, maybe fifty to fifty-five feet. Like a big Hatteras Motor Yacht. Funny, she hired me but couldn’t even tell me what make it was. I think it stopped here last week for fuel.” Alexander didn’t know how close he was to the actual details of the boat’s ownership.

“I don’t know,” the woman replied. “I was off last week. Just got back from vacation. We went camping on the Guadalupe in New Braunfels. You ever been there? It’s a blast. The water was still pretty cold though...”

Alexander didn’t want to hear about the woman’s camping trip. “Do you know who might have been here? Are they here today?”

“I think Joe, the Dock Manager, was probably here,” she said, then turned and yelled to one of the men wearing a Blue Marlin T-shirt.

Joe was in his early thirties, with short blond hair. Tanned. It was apparent he spent time in the sun. “Hi, what can I do for you?” he asked.

Alexander repeated the story he’d told the woman behind the counter. Joe scratched his head and said, “Yeah, I remember it. It’s a big Cheoy Lee Trawler. I think it’s a fifty-five-footer. Nice boat. They fueled up here. Took close to a thousand gallons.”

“Did he use a credit card?” Alexander asked.

“No, Nestor paid cash, as usual.”

“As usual?”

“Yeah. They come in here about once a month and fuel up. Maybe not that often, maybe every six weeks or two months. Now that I think about it, it was about once a month. But it’s been a while, maybe a couple of months since they were last here. It was a different boat this time. The other times they were in a Hatteras. I don’t remember which one. It was an older boat and not very well maintained. The Cheoy Lee they were in this time was older too. But, man, was it in nice condition. It has to do with a divorce?”

“It does. But the husband’s name is Ralph. What did you say the man’s name was?”

“Nestor. That’s all I know him by. It’s usually him or another guy, uh, Gorgonio, I think. As I said, they come in here and fuel up often. It’s a large amount too.”

“And they always pay in cash?”

“Yeah. It takes a while to pump a thousand gallons, so we BS a bit. Nestor chats it up, but the other guy is pretty quiet. I noticed a couple of other people on board. A woman was in the main salon and a man, the captain probably – I didn’t recognize him, was on the bridge. I noticed because I’ve never seen a woman on board before.”

“It sounds like my owner may have already sold the boat. These guys may have bought it from him. I’d like to talk to them. See if they’ll tell me how much they paid. What do you know about Nestor?”

“Not much. He’s not a big guy. Older. Seems nice enough. Speaks with a bit of a Spanish accent. I never asked him where he was from. Honestly, they have to be coming from a distance. I don’t think they’re getting fuel here and just cruising the gulf. The boat says Miami on the stern. I have suspicions, but I don’t ask or even seem curious. It’s nice to sell that much fuel at one time. I don’t want to lose them as a customer.”

“Miami is where my client is. That makes sense. Do you remember the name of the boat?”

“Yeah, it’s Miss Jana.”

“That’s the boat. I noticed you have video cameras around. Do they work?”

“They do.”

“Do you still have the video from when they were here?”

“Probably.”

“Any chance I can get a copy of it?”

“Oh, uh, no. We got into a little trouble last year. A nice cigarette boat with several incredibly hot babes on board was getting fuel. The women were wearing super skimpy bikinis. You know, almost falling out of them.”

Alexander blew air through his lips as though he was whistling, but no sound was emitted. “Nice. You probably see that all the time.”

“We do. Problem is, someone asked for the video we had of them. The girls were dancing and having a good time on the boat. I didn’t see a problem? Well, the video got put on Facebook, and it went viral. The owner’s wife didn’t know about the girls, and the shit hit the fan. WE got sued for releasing the video. This is a public place. It wasn’t our fault. The suit was dropped, but we spent a ton of money on lawyer’s fees. I’m sorry. I don’t give anybody a copy of a video without a warrant.”

“Can I take a look at the video?” Alexander was hoping Joe would see no harm in him viewing the video.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to get involved. My gut tells me those guys are up to no good. I sell them fuel and don’t ask any questions.”

“Honestly, I don’t blame you. It’s the boat, for sure. The owner may be on it and you didn’t see him. Can I leave you my card in case you think of anything else?”

“Sure, I guess that won’t get me in any trouble.”

“Hey, thanks for your time. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. Take care.”

Alexander walked back to the car where May was waiting.

“What’d you find out?” she asked as soon as the door opened.

“They got fuel here all right. Nestor paid for it. In cash. No credit card receipts. He saw you.”

“I should have known something nefarious was up and at least tried to get off the boat,” May said, hoping she had used her new word correctly.

“I didn’t get much we didn’t already know. We knew the first names. Nestor, Gorgonio, and Reymundo. But no last names. He did tell me the name of the boat. Miss Jana.”

“I saw it, but I could not remember. But, yeah, Miss Jana.”

“He also told me they come through here often. First, he said once a month, and then he said maybe every six weeks. He didn’t say how long they’ve been coming, but it’s been quite a while. These people have smuggled in loads more girls than we figured.”