Names

Mindy arrived in Dade City at eleven p.m. and checked into the Florida Palm Hotel and Motor Lodge about a mile north of Bonnie Groom's trailer park. The rooms were small and smelled like a musty gym locker. The flannel curtains were a urine yellow, and the matted shag carpet, which was probably white at one time, was now an uneven tan. The door on the small bathroom did not quite shut all the way, but Mindy was too tired to care. Besides, she was alone anyway. She dropped the little black overnight bag on the single bed, clicked on the TV, and went to sleep.

Mindy Holm awoke early, called in to the travel office to tell them where she was staying, then dialed Bonnie Groom's number to confirm the time for the interview.

"Hello, Mrs. Groom? I'm Mindy Holm. We talked yesterday morning."

There was a short pause. "The FBI agent," she said with a distinct southern drawl.

"No. Not exactly an agent. I guess you could say I'm one of their…investigators."

"So you, like, decide if a complaint is worth pursuing or not?"

"Yes, that's right. I just wanted to ask you a few questions about the scam you almost fell for."

"I was a part of it," she said. "I was a big part of it, honey."

Mindy was at a loss for words. The woman sounded completely different than she did the last time they spoke. She seemed bitter now, and agitated. "Can we get together today?" she heard herself ask.