Free Cuban Sun by Ann Bauer, Bryn Bauer

thought of Helena and their conversation. She thought of the woman’s kindness and understanding. Then, Sofia grabbed her sandals instead of the suitcase. Sitting on the bench to put them on she thought, I could go back to Charleston, but I at least owe it to Helena to let her know and I owe it to Quint to be honest about why I’m leaving, even if he is a liar, she added with venom. The image of her attacker flashed in her mind and she shuddered. I have to tell them about the intruder. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened and I could have warned them. But , she promised herself , I’ll leave tomorrow on the first flight .
    Sofia tried all three cell numbers but only reached voicemail. She didn’t know how she would find them, but she also didn’t want to wait on something this important. And , she thought, truth be told, I can’t stand to be on this boat by myself right now . Sofia finished buckling her ankle strap and began to stride to the door. “Damn!” she called and stumbled. The strap on her left sandal snapped sending the buckle sailing and landing with a clink on the bed side table. As she reached for it, her eyes lit on the remaining pink diamond earring she had taken off before sleeping last night. Sofia jumped up, quickly snatched up another pair of shoes and dashed to the surveillance room. She knew how to find them. Sofia scanned the screens and found one that showed three blinking dots on a map of Miami. She clicked each one in turn and saw the following letters: A.Q., H.C, J.C. That’s them, she thought. She used the browser to find the location address but didn’t bother with the name. Sofia dashed to the harbor master’s stand where a line of taxis could always be found. She slammed the door of one of these upon entering and thrust a slip of paper and a wad of money towards the driver.
    “Here’s the address. And here’s fifty. Hurry, please.”
    He eyed the money. “Sorry miss, I have to follow the law, I could lose my license.” Sofia narrowed her eyes and jabbed another fifty at him.
    Smiling, the driver folded the bills and peeled out onto Bayshore Drive. A few moments or an hour later, Sofia couldn’t be sure, she peered out of the grime streaked window of the cab. The driver repeated himself.
    “This is it, lady.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “No, you gave me a hundred bucks for me to take you to the wrong place. Yeah lady, this is it.”
    Sofia frowned at the driver and stepped out onto the cracked and crumbling sidewalk. She stood in front of a storefront whose red burlesque style letters read “Baroque”. She tried to look inside but the window was obscured by heavy, blood red curtains. Sofia stood outside the black door looking at the peeling paint while hastily tidying her hair. She didn’t know what kind of situation she would be walking into, but she wanted to look prepared for whatever it was. She glanced at her reflection in the window and then wished she hadn’t. While she did have an air of being put together, the swollen nose and bruising under her eyes would certainly attract attention.
    She pushed open the door, and had to stand for a moment in the entryway while her eyes adjusted to the smoky dimness. She glanced around Early Mexican Bordello must have been the design motif , she thought. The small, low ceilinged room held a dilapidated but ornate heavy wood and brass bar, a few tables and stained red velvet stools. The walls seemed held together only by the old red velvet wallpaper, now brown with neglect. Sofia wondered if the place had ever been cleaned. Patrons, mostly men in various degrees of intoxication were starting to look around and Sofia took that as her cue to keep moving. She did not see Helena, Joe or Quint but spied a narrow hallway leading to what she assumed was another room in the bar.
    Sofia quickly followed the hallway to the next room which was of similar quality, decoration and clientele except that the filthy chandeliers of the