Gathering her thoughts, she took the bench seat at the settee. He sat across from her and they delved into their food.
It was strange sitting down for something as mundane as a quiet meal. Jess couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten; in the past few days she’d been too scared to even think of it. But looking at the omelet, she was suddenly famished.
Midway through the meal, however, the questions buzzing around in her head would wait no longer. “What are we going to do about what we found last night?”
Madrid forked some of the egg. “Well, we know the Lighthouse Point PD is involved in human smuggling.”
“Not to mention murder.”
“Goes hand in hand.”
Thinking of Angela, Jess shook her head. “How do we stop them?”
“We find the head of the operation and cut it off.”
“Someone with the Lighthouse Point PD?”
“Could be, but I doubt it. This is a big operation, Jess. Far-reaching. International. A lot of people are involved. The Lighthouse Point PD simply allows them to operate in the bay.”
“They get paid to look the other way.”
“Those photos we took last night would have helped.” He grimaced. “The camera was in the duffel, though, and I lost the duffel when we got ambushed.”
“If they find it, can they ID you?”
He gave her a wry smile. “I’m too careful for that, but we could have used the tools outside.” A sign hissed between his lips. “The Dorian Rae is key. I need to find out who owns and operated the ship.”
“How do we do that?”
“I put in a call earlier this morning.” He set his hand against the cell phone clipped to his belt.
“The MIDNIGHT Agency.”
“Yeah.”
She thought about that a moment. “Are the police still looking for me?”
“You’re a person of interest.”
“In other words, I’m still a suspect.”
His gaze met hers. “You’d be a hell of a lot safer if I turned you over to the feds.”
Surprise rippled through her that he would even think of it. “We’ve been over that, Madrid.”
“And my stance on it hasn’t changed.”
“If I let myself be taken in, you’ll lose your ace in the hole.”
A hard glint entered his eyes. “You turn yourself in and I won’t have to worry about some goon sneaking in here in the middle of the night and cutting your throat.”
She hoped he didn’t see the shudder that ran through her. “Or I can spend the next week sitting in a jail cell while Angela’s real killer is covering his tracks and working to frame me.”
“You know I won’t let that happen.”
A rise of anger shot through her. “I have no intention—”
A knock at the door made them both jump up. Drawing his pistol, Madrid crossed to the door. “Yeah?”
“It’s Vanderpol. Open up.”
Madrid’s hand slid away from the gun. He opened the door, leaned against the jamb. “About time.”
A tall man with military-short hair shook the rain from his trench and stepped inside. Dark, intelligent eyes swept from Madrid to her, then back to Madrid. “Cutter will send me to Siberia if he finds out I met with you.”
“I’ll be lucky to wind up in Antarctica.”
“Can’t argue with that.” His eyes sliding back to Jess, he extended his hand. “Jake Vanderpol.”
His hand was large and rough as it encompassed hers. “Jessica Atwood.”
He grasped her hand for an instant too long, then released it and turned to Madrid. “I got the information you needed.”
A silent communication passed between the two men. Jess suddenly felt like an outsider.
“She knows.” Madrid motioned to the table and settee.
Jess sat. Madrid slid in beside her.
“Okay.” Vanderpol took the bench opposite them and tugged a small notebook from the pocket of his trench. “The Dorian Rae is owned by a shipping conglomerate based in San Francisco called Capricorn Intercontinental Shipping.”
“Owner?”
“High roller by the name of Gabriel Capricorn.”
“Clean?”
“Not squeaky, but not quite dirty enough to head up a human smuggling ring.”
“If not Capricorn, then who?”
“I got a hit on his VP. Slick guy by the name of Randall Yates.”
“What kind of hit?”
“Got busted in 1997 for smuggling in ten illegals from China.”
“Female?”
“Yup.”
“Conviction?”
“During trial, eight of the women testified that they were stowaways.”
“And the other two?”
“Disappeared off the face of the earth.”
Madrid seemed to digest the words, his expression dark and thoughtful. “He was acquitted?”
“Yup. And get this. He used to run a shipping corporation out of Seattle. Owned a couple of massage parlors.”
“Interesting combination.”
“It is if you consider who worked the booths.”
“Don’t tell me. Illegal immigrants.”
“Mostly from China. Immigration busted him a dozen times but he always beat the rap. Cost of doing business, I guess.”
“Prostitution?”
“He was never charged, but if the shoe fits…” Jake lifted his shoulder, let it fall.
“When did he hook up with Capricorn?”