Pit was shaking his head. “Okay, I get it, I get it. Why did I even need to ask? I should have known. Just tell me you’re not planning on talking to this captain dude.”

“Pit, I’m sure he knows where this kid’s father is. I mean, if he was just bringing her over as a restavek, she’d be dead by now. He’s had two chances to kill her, and he hasn’t done it. I know a Haitian woman who thinks it comes from some sort of magic. I’m not quite ready to go that far yet. But I do think there’s something special about this kid.”

“So you’re just going to find this Haitian captain and walk up to him and ask him where the kid’s dad is?”

“Not exactly. I’m still working on that part. I think if I can find some evidence that he is importing these kids as child slaves, and locate him, the police will take him into custody and maybe I’ll get the answers to my questions then. I hope to get some help from this Border Patrol guy I know.”

“Sey, sometimes I wish you were as concerned about yourself as you are about all these wounded birds you adopt.”

We both started collecting the charts and books and instruments that were spread out on the picnic table. When my arms were full, I headed into the cottage, dumped the stuff on my dining table, and went to the fridge for a cold beer.

“By the way, sis,” Pit said as he came through the door. “B.J. came by looking for you earlier. He told me a little bit about what was going on with you two. All joking aside, what’s up? B.J.’s a great guy, and last time we talked on the phone, it seemed like you thought so, too.”

I carried my beer bottle across to my bedroom door, then turned to face him. “Pit, I told you, I don’t want to talk about that. Besides, look how late it is. I’ve got to change, then get down to Hollywood and check on how things are going, say hello to Solange. Want to come along?”

“Can I bring my board?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “You haven’t changed.”

As soon as I parked in front of Rusty’s building, Pit pulled his sailboard out of the back of the Jeep and was ready to go. I noticed the Paris Kids bag back there and I picked it up. Might as well give it to her. She probably wouldn’t like it anyway.

I undid the clasp on the dive watch on my wrist and handed it to him. “Meet me back here at seven, okay?” He disappeared across A1A in the direction of the beach. The breeze was decent, a solid twelve to fifteen knots out of the south- southeast. Storm clouds lined the eastern horizon, but that wouldn’t matter to Pit. I figured I wouldn’t see any more of my brother until it grew too dark to see the waves, which, in June, wasn’t until after eight.

There was no sign of Rusty’s vehicle in the parking lot. Back at the cottage I’d found myself standing in front of my closet trying to decide what to wear, knowing that there was a chance he would be here. Then, of course, I had felt really stupid and had just thrown on some baggy cargo shorts and a T-shirt. At the last minute, on my way out of my bedroom, I’d grabbed a Hawaiian print shirt and tied the shirttails around my waist so I could at least look a little feminine.

Jeannie opened the door with a curt nod, and when I stepped into the condo, I was hit smack in the center of my chest by an airborne miniature helicopter.

“Ouch, that hurt!” The slightly larger of Jeannie’s twins had collapsed in hysterics at my dismay, and his brother pounced on him and took away the ’copter launcher.

“Mom!” the older boy screamed, and punched his brother in the back as he fled into a bedroom.

“Welcome to the madhouse,” Jeannie said. She sat back down on a tiny chair in front of a computer and seemed to ignore the screaming and the sound of fists hitting flesh that was coming from the bedroom.

“Don’t you think you should do something?” I pointed to the bedroom door.

She didn’t even look up from the computer screen when she said, “They’ll work it out.”

And I felt it again, that I could never be a mother.

“Where’s Solange?”

Jeannie inclined her head toward the other bedroom. “She’s been asking about you all day.”

Solange didn’t hear me enter the room. She was sitting on the bed, playing with two stuffed animals, and while the bear was neatly tucked in with the covers up to his chin, it appeared that the monkey was getting a hell of a chewing out in Creole. I didn’t understand the words, but I sure knew that tone of voice.

“Hey, kiddo, how are you?”

Her face lit up, and she slid off the bed, dashed over, and wrapped her arms around my waist, her head pressed against my tummy. I patted the back of her head and hoped that was a correct response to this kid hug.

“Everything going okay? You having fun around here?”

“I don’t like boys,” she said, looking up at me with a very serious look on her face.

“Trust me, kiddo. You’ll change your mind one day.”

I remembered the bag I’d brought and I told her to sit on the bed. I pulled out the white dress and held it up. “This is for you,” I said.

She reached out and fingered the lace at the hem, a look of disbelief on her face. I could see already that it would be much too big for her.

She jumped off the bed and hugged me again, rubbing her cheek against the fabric of the dress where she had pinned it against my body.

I heard the sound of the front door opening, and then someone else was enduring an attack from the twins. I let go of Solange to go see who had arrived. After I’d spread the dress on the bed, she slipped her hand into mine and followed close by my side.

On his back in the middle of the living room, Rusty Elliot, special agent to the INS, lay pinned to the floor by two blond dervishes who straddled his body, threatening him with Super Soaker squirt guns nearly as big as they were.

Jeannie looked up from her computer and shrugged. “He didn’t know the password,” she said.

“It’s his house! Doesn’t that count for something?”

She indicated her sons and smiled. “Not with them.”

At that point the floor erupted with flying limbs, streams of water, and giggles. Apparently the special agent was fighting back by tickling, and he was winning. The boys tumbled off of him and retreated to the far side of the room. Then Rusty held up his hand.

“Hold it.” The water streams stopped. “I think this battle needs to continue in the pool. What do you say, kids?”

The boys cheered and Solange smiled. I didn’t think she understood the word pool, but the entire scene had been extremely entertaining. I wondered if she’d ever seen an adult horsing around with kids like that before.

Rusty got up and brushed the water off his clothes and hair. He was wearing a white knit sport shirt and khaki cargo shorts. There was no avoiding it. The man looked good. He nodded to me. “Good afternoon, Miss Sullivan.”

“Hey.” I started to say something, but he’d turned and disappeared into the bedroom. He came out a few seconds later, drying himself off with a towel. “You’re good with kids.”

“I got a bunch of rugrat nieces and nephews. They keep me in shape.”

“You seem to like them as much as they like you,” I said, thinking that if most men had any idea how attractive it made them to be comfortable around kids, they’d all be pushing strollers.

“What’s not to like? They’re great. Anyway, how’re things around here? You been here long?”

“I just got here a few minutes before you. Jeannie? How’s the day been?”

She turned from the computer as the page she was browsing shut down. “Nobody but me’s been near these kids today—not that I haven’t felt like killing them myself a few times this afternoon. My boys are set on getting that girl to play with them, and she doesn’t want to have a thing to do with them. She’s a quiet little thing.” She heaved herself up out of the chair and walked to the bedroom door. She turned back to Rusty. “You sure it’s safe to take these kids down to the pool? I’d love to get out of here for a while. I’ve got a serious case of cabin fever.”