“Listo?” the Tico asked.
Cassidy nodded and climbed inside the backseat. Alonso closed her door then slid behind the wheel.
“Alo was there that night,” Bruce said.
Cassidy averted her eyes but saw him grimace. What had he seen that night?
The SUV pulled away from the curb. After a moment, Alonso lowered the AC. “Temperature ok-eh?”
Cassidy nodded again. “I didn’t think I was going to see you again,” she said. “Aren’t you a wanted man now?”
Bruce smiled. “I have to keep a low profile, sure, but I have Alo.” He nodded to the driver. “And I’ll be leaving soon, too.”
“What will happen to . . . everybody?” she finally managed.
“The Americans will be extradited. The Costa Ricans will be tried here.”
“What about the children?” she asked as the images from the camera flooded her mind.
“We’re working on that,” he said.
They were silent for a while.
“Did you know about Reeve, all along?” she asked.
Bruce shook his head. “I knew something was going on beyond him just disappearing. There was actually a comment he made about Mel that helped, but it wasn’t until I followed those goons who chased us that it all came together.”
“I thought you said that it didn’t lead anywhere? That it got too conspicuous.”
Bruce nodded. “Let’s just say I had some help after that, and we found the link to Mel that we needed.” He glanced at her, his eyes pained. “We also found several graves.”
Cassidy inhaled a sharp breath. “Reeve . . . ”
Bruce nodded. “I believe so. I’ll know for sure in a few days.”
Cassidy slumped against the window. She had known it all along, but now that it was real, that she had failed—in so many ways—the world seemed to crumble around her.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
The SUV turned onto a highway and they sped north, the green jungle of tall, lofty canopies flying past in a blur. To the East, the dark volcanic mountains poked out of the olive-brown haze. Cassidy sat back and closed her eyes.
When the SUV pulled up to the curb at the Liberia airport, Bruce turned to her.
“Will I have to testify?” she asked.
Bruce looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. I’ll try to keep you out of it, if I can.”
Cassidy breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“You know, if you ever get tired of saving the world from volcanic eruptions, you should think about detective work.” He grinned. “You’re a natural.”
Cassidy scowled, but a single, dry chuckle escaped from her lips.
“Actually,” he added, his eyes growing serious. “There’s something I wanted to tell you.”
Cassidy felt a tiny flutter of fear tickle her insides.
He seemed to be waiting for her to concede, and when she didn’t, he gave a tight nod, and continued. “This chain of human trafficking. It doesn’t stop in Central America. It extends all the way into the States. This particular group of scumbags imports to Los Angeles and San Francisco.”
Cassidy squinted at him. “Why are you telling me this?”
“You said Pete was a reporter. I read his story on the Hernandez family.”
A painful stone rolled over her heart. She wished the air conditioning could work a little harder because her skin felt like it might ignite. “What are you saying?”
Bruce shrugged. “Just that, well . . . ” he trailed off. “He was fighting the same war that I’m fighting. That we’re fighting.” He looked at Alonso, who nodded. “I know this has been an ordeal. I wish I had known you were there that night. I’m not sure things would have turned out any different, but at least I could have tried to get you out of there before . . . ” He sighed. “I had no idea that you were . . . with him.”
Cassidy looked away. She wanted to defend herself somehow, say that she wasn’t with Mel at all—how could she have put her trust in such a monster? “How did this happen?” she said, unable to control the waver in her voice. “How could I have been with someone like that?” she spat the last word and her whole body shuddered with anger. She saw herself on Mel’s bed, enjoying his caresses, and wanted to scream.
“He was a master at deception,” Bruce said. “If that makes you feel any better.” He glanced her way. “He’s fooled a lot of people—including me.”
Cassidy clenched her teeth shut and tried to stop the terrible images downloading into her mind.
“I wish I could do something to erase all the terrible things that happened to you,” he said. “But I wanted you to know that it made a difference. That what you did and what Reeve did, it meant something. And Pete, what he was doing, it helped, too. I think Pete would be proud of you—the risks you took and your bravery.”
Cassidy was crying before he finished his sentence. She wanted it to be true, to imagine Pete beaming his biggest smile at her, and then folding her into his arms. “Well done, Kinney,” he might say. But all she could remember was the image of his angry posture, his yelling. A spark of anger flared inside her. Wasn’t he the one who left? She should be the one yelling at him. Now Reeve was gone, too, and though their relationship had never been strong, losing him brought everything back.
“He didn’t die in vain,” Bruce was saying, and she found that she was in his arms, not Pete’s. After a long moment, Cassidy forcing herself to stop crying, he released her gently. Alonso seemed to sense the shift in mood because he slid out of the car and came around to the rear hatch, where he unloaded her pack and then opened her door.
“Here,” Bruce said, and handed her a white card with a single phone number. “Reach me anytime, okay?”
Cassidy took
