Chapter Sixteen
It was a short drive back. Paulo pulled up in front of a drab storefront and Lindsey saw a scrap of paper taped to the glass. Claro, it said and there was a graphic of a telephone receiver.
“Gracious, gracious...” she said and, entering the cramped office, she breathed deeply, thankfully, when she saw two stalls on the back wall with a telephone in each. “Call United States?” Lindsey asked the young girl behind the counter.
“Si,” she responded with a smile and pointed to the closest booth.
Lindsey’s hands were shaking so bad it took two tries to enter the number on the old rotary phone. And then unbelievably, she hear the automated pickup: “You have reached the Miami Herald. If you know the four digit extension, enter it at any time.” She dialed zero.
“Research Departm
