“There isn’t anyone else.”

“If you’d like me to accompany you to the camps, I’d be happy to. There are hundreds of men working and living there. Some of them can be a little rough around the edges. It’s not the sort of place you want to be alone.”

“I’ve spent some time in the company of men. I’m not afraid of a little rough language and crass behavior.”

“If ‘rough language’ is the worst you’re expecting, then you haven’t spent very much time in the company of these sorts of men.”

I frown. “‘These sorts of men’?”

“You should be prepared. The stories coming out of those camps aren’t good. Do you even have a plan to find this man you’re looking for?”

“I haven’t exactly come up with one. Yet.”

“Then let me propose that we start out tomorrow morning.”

I arch my brow. “‘We’?”

“Yes, ‘we.’ I told you I’d help, and I meant it. You’re going to need someone who knows the area and has a vehicle. From what I understand, there are two main camps where the veterans live on Lower Matecumbe Key and another up on Windley Key. We can start with the one on Windley and work our way down. While most of the veterans live at the camps on Lower Matecumbe, the one up on Windley is where the hospital is. If the conditions are as grim as people say, the odds that he’s received medical attention at some point are high.”

To his credit, as far as plans go, it’s certainly more than I’ve come up with.

“How do you know so much about the veterans’ camps?” I ask.

“I spend quite a bit of time down here. You pick up things.”

“In your search for bootleggers, gangsters, and smugglers?”

“You’d be surprised by how often those things overlap. But yes.”

“Prohibition’s over.”

“It is, but that doesn’t mean the criminal element has disappeared. It hasn’t even been two years since the law changed. A lot of people aren’t prepared to alter their ways. Just because they aren’t smuggling rum from Cuba doesn’t mean they aren’t still involved in criminal operations. Look at what the mob’s trying to do down there, the influence they hope to build. Do you think they aren’t doing the same in the Keys? There’s still money to be had, and many of them are too greedy or desperate to give up their less savory activities.”

“How did you get involved in this kind of work?”

“You could say it’s in my blood, I suppose. My father was a detective.”

“It must be fascinating.”

I think of the novels I like to read, the mysteries solved by intrepid investigators.

“It has its moments,” he replies.

“And the case you’re on now—how did that come about?”

“We were part of an agency task force with other groups like the Coast Guard and the Bureau of Prohibition to crack down on the rumrunners. When Prohibition ended in ’33, we still had a list of people we knew were involved in criminal elements and part of larger organizations. We’ve been monitoring them, and given the different trade routes that intersect down here, particularly between the United States and Cuba, there are many opportunities for smuggling.”

“It’s a whole other world,” I muse.

“It’s not the Manhattan society set, no.”

Surprise fills me that he so aptly identified my background. I hardly seem like a debutante at the moment. “Is it that obvious?”

“It is if you’re paying attention.”

“So you did notice me on the train.”

“Of course I noticed you. I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I hadn’t. A pretty girl certainly isn’t a hardship to look at.”

“You didn’t seem that interested.”

“I don’t mix pleasure with business.”

A knot tightens in my stomach at the word “pleasure.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“How boring,” I tease.

He laughs. “Whatever you want to say about my job, I’m not sure ‘boring’ is the word I’d use.”

His hand is devoid of a ring on that all-important finger, but that means little. Still, I can’t quite envision him with a wife and family at home. There’s little softness to be found in his demeanor or his countenance.

“Is there a woman waiting for you at home?” I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me.

“No.”

“It must get lonely, then, traveling the country by yourself, chasing criminals.”

“Sometimes.”

“This man you’re hunting down here. Is he dangerous?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Are you ever afraid?”

“It’s hard to do this job if you’re scared all the time. There’s danger, sure, but most of these men are bullies at heart. They want you to fear them, because fear gives them power. The trick is to treat them as though they are only men, to diminish them until their threats and boasts mean little at all.”

“You like it—the chase.”

“I do.”

“Men.”

“Like you don’t feel exactly the same way.”

“Me? I’m hardly chasing criminals across the country.”

Although, I can’t deny it sounds exciting.

“I saw the way you played with that poor boy on the train, batting him around like a cat with a toy on a string.”

I sniff. “A cat?”

“You liked it. Liked the thrill of the hunt. It’s the same urge even if it’s conducted with a peek of your—”

“You really have no idea how to talk to ladies, do you?”

“I didn’t realize I was talking to a lady.”

First I was a cat, and now I’m—

“I figured you fancied yourself an adventuress of sorts,” he adds. “Much more interesting than a lady.”

“How many ladies have you known?”

“If you mean society matrons and the like, none.”

“I’ve little use for society matrons these days,” I admit. “I’ve sort of been cast out of that world anyway.”