Riptide (Sam McRae Mystery #3)

Chapter 18

Once I'd escaped from the dark confines of the plant, I ripped the mask off and gulped air.

"Jesus." I leaned over at the waist and planted a hand on each knee, trying to regain my bearings.

I could feel Amber approach from behind.

"That was ... even worse than I imagined."

"Yeah. It is kind of gross."

I took a last deep breath and managed to straighten up. "I'm sorry. I feel like such a ..." I struggled to say the word. The one I had in mind was "wuss."

"Don't worry about it. Honestly. You aren't the only one to react this way."

"Really?"

She nodded. "I've brought other aspiring legal interns here. They come with the best of intentions and lots of glowing hopes of doing the right thing."

"I'll bet." I thought of my own initiation into the world of the public defender so many years ago. What a bright-eyed naïve little person I'd been, even after spending part of a hard childhood in Bed-Stuy.

She grinned. "Hey, you made it to the electric stunner. Some can't even make it through the door."

Her warmth and support emboldened me. I managed a smile. "I guess that makes me a Rambo by comparison."

Despite her assurances, I was rethinking the visit. Desperation had prompted it, but I wasn't sure how much I could gain from it. However, while I was there, I asked Amber if I could speak to one or two of the workers.

As Manuel wandered by, Amber caught his attention and communicated my thoughts. She spoke much better Spanish than I, though she still stumbled over a few words now and then. Manuel nodded and hustled off.

"He's going to look for a couple of workers," she said. "I can probably translate most of what they say."

*****

A short brown-skinned woman with luminous dark eyes and raven hair approached me cautiously—the way a wild stallion might approach a horse trainer. Manuel had a hand on her shoulder. It almost looked like he was herding her toward me.

Manuel introduced the woman as Conchita Ruiz and launched into rapid Spanish patter. "He's telling her your name and that you're not a cop or immigration," Amber explained.

I nodded. Conchita's face relaxed, but only a little.

"Hola, Conchita," I said, trying to sound friendly. "Where are you from? What country?"

I waited while Amber translated. Conchita responded with a few quick words that flew by me, but I picked up the word "Honduras."

"She says hello, it's nice to meet you, and she's from Honduras," Amber said.

I nodded and smiled. Well, at least I understood one word.

"Conchita, how did you get here?"

Amber translated my question. Conchita's face froze. For a moment, I thought she'd bolt.

Amber said a few more words in a reassuring tone. Conchita seemed somewhat, if not entirely, appeased. She spit out a whole slew of words I had no hope of understanding. Amber nodded, interrupting now and then, as if for clarification. When they'd finished their exchange, Amber turned to me.

"She says she came here by train, paid for by relatives. I asked which connecting bus line brought her here, because you know there aren't any train stations on the Eastern Shore. She claimed she couldn't remember." Amber paused and added. "Frankly, I think she's lying. If I had to guess, she was probably brought here in the back of a panel truck. With a whole lot of other immigrant workers."