Cassidy Kincaid Mysteries Box Set

the time,” Macho said, indicating the mess. “Lo siento,” he added.
She stepped forward to the dresser. One drawer was still attached. Unable to stop herself, she slid it open, hoping for what she didn’t know. But it was empty. She looked around the room again. Some clothes were on the floor, presumably from the dresser drawers when they were yanked out, the contents dumped: surf brand T-shirts and a few pairs of board shorts, boxer shorts, a threadbare yellow fleece that he probably never wore in such a climate, a pair of rubber flip-flops, one of them with a broken strap.
“He ees not here,” Macho said to Cassidy.
In a daze, Cassidy nodded. They stepped back into the hallway and closed the broken door.
Eddie and Rico were already hurrying down the hallway, their excited voices echoing off the dingy walls. A man entered the hallway, leading a young woman by the hand. They slipped by Eddie and Rico. The young woman looked more like a girl, Cassidy realized, with thick, long hair braided to the side and a flower tucked behind her ear. Her skin was golden brown and flawless, and she was wearing an impossibly short skirt and a halter-top. The man was Caucasian, late twenties, with a buzz cut and a stubbly face, like he was growing a beard, but who would grow a beard in this heat? He wore long, loose basketball shorts and a wrinkled short-sleeved button-down shirt adorned with palm trees. Cassidy watched this couple approach with a growing sense of unease. Macho too, seemed tense.
The man gave her only a rushed glance when he passed, keeping his head low. The young woman did not look at them, but simply followed behind, her eyes on the ground. Cassidy watched them walk to the end of the hall, where the man pulled out a key and unlocked the door across from Reeve’s. They were about to step inside when Cassidy came out of her spell and said “wait!” but it came out like a croak, and the man didn’t hear her.
The door closed. Cassidy went to step towards it, but Macho made a kind of hissing noise.
“What?” she said to him, confused.
He seemed uncomfortable, and his eyes were trying to tell her something, but she didn’t know what.
“Macho!” Eddie called from the street.
“He lives across from Reeve,” Cassidy said. “What if he knows what happened?”
“Mebee come back tomorrow,” he said.
“No!” Cassidy replied, surprised at her own vehemence. She stepped to the door.
Macho sighed. “I wait on the street,” he said.
Cassidy gathered her courage and knocked. Waited. Knocked again.
A groan came from inside the apartment and the door opened. The man was shirtless. No sign of the young woman. “What?” he asked, his eyes angry.
“Do you know Reeve?” she asked. “He lives across the hall?”
The man blinked, and his look changed. “Yeah, he’s gone though.”
“I know,” Cassidy said. “I’m trying to find him.”
“Who are you, his wife?”
Cassidy had to stifle her shock at the idea. “No. He’s my stepbrother.”
The man rubbed his head back and forth, scrubbed his sandpapery cheek, and glanced to the inside of the apartment. “I’m kinda busy right now.”
“I won’t keep you much longer,” Cassidy said. “Can you tell me anything about what happened?” She indicated the doorway across the hall. “Was he in trouble?”
“Ha!” the man said, his eyes bugging out. “Not more than the rest of us,” he replied with an amused cackle.
“Was he into drugs?”
The man’s smile faded. “I don’t know,” he replied.
“Did you guys ever talk? Did he tell you why he left?”
“No,” the man said. “We partied sometimes, you know, with the girls, but he didn’t exactly share our future plans.”
Sensing the man’s impatience, she tried to think fast. “Did he have any friends that you know of? Or a girlfriend?”
The man looked thoughtful for a moment, as if sizing her up.
“Please,” Cassidy begged.
“There was one girl. He did get kinda crazy about her, you know?” He shook his head.
“Do you know her name?” Cassidy pressed.
The man thought for a moment, closed his eyes like he was concentrating. “Jade,” he said, looking as surprised as she was. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” he said, and closed the door.
Once back at the bikes, Cassidy felt jittery, and dirty. The humidity was cranked to full, and her skin felt drenched.
“The girl in the hallway,” Cassidy said, rethinking the exchange, starting with the man’s walk down the hallway to the I’m a little busy right now comment. “Is she . . . ”
“Chica,” Eddie said, his normally cheerful face looking grave.
Clearly, there was a different translation because girl would not get this kind of response. “A prostitute?” she asked.
“Legal in Costa Rica,” Rico said with a shrug.
Cassidy remembered this same phrase from the police officer, as if it explained everything. “But she was so young,” Cassidy replied, disgusted at the thought of what she had interrupted.
Macho was looking away. Cassidy noticed a man in the shadows across the street, scrolling his phone and smoking a cigarette. He was standing next to a motorcycle that she hadn’t seen on their way into the apartment. “Sometimes there are girls who don’t have a choice,” Macho said. “Their family sells them to people who do this. Or they are kidnapped and forced into it.” He glanced back at her.
Cassidy shuddered again. She remembered the anti-trafficking poster at the police station. She had also read news stories—it happened all over the world, even in the U.S. Pete had once worked on a story about it.
“I think I’ll walk back,” she said to Macho who was waiting astride his bike.
“You sure?” Macho said, his eyes concerned.
Did he glance at the man in the shadows, or had she imagined it? Cassidy nodded.
“Come on Cassi-dee,” Eddie said, pulling her into a little dance. She could feel his firm body’s muscles against her as she let him pull her close.
Rico whistled.
Cassidy broke away. “Another time, amigos,” she said, resisting the urge to take one of them back to her room.
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