Undercover Connection

Jacob made a pretense of studying the wine menu. He had known, she was certain, exactly what he wanted from the beginning. He wound up ordering champagne—and club soda, as well. She knew as the evening progressed, the champagne would disappear into leftover club soda.

The waitress was gone—they had both ordered the stone crab claws—and he leaned toward her, taking her hand from across the table, rubbing his thumb lightly over her flesh.

“You talked to your people?” he asked softly.

She nodded. “This afternoon. The three men in the oil drums...one has been there, they estimate, about three years. One several months...and one maybe two weeks or so.”

Jacob smiled lightly, his expression expertly at odds with their conversation. “Do you know who they might be? They’ll be testing, checking dental records. But so far, they don’t match anyone reported missing down here.” He hesitated. “We’re a land of promise, but...people take advantage of that. I recently worked a case in New York... Here’s the thing, and the cause of half the world’s problems. When you have nothing at all, you have nothing to lose. People from war-torn countries might be desperate and can be drawn in and then forced to do just about anything.” He was quiet for a minute. “Some wind up in oil drums.”

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