Hostile Waters

by William Nikkel

  CHAPTER 33

  Cherise and Lindsey took a cab back to the resort. On the way, Cherise read the text she’d received. A message from Susan, it turned out.

  Emailed you additional information on Corey and Amanda. I think you’ll find the info interesting.

  She read the email. But for the time being, kept the news to herself. Lindsey gave her a casual glance, but didn’t press.

  They were both ready for a cold drink.

  After a quick trip to their rooms to freshen up, they wandered down to the Beach Club patio. The sound of breaking waves had a soothing effect on their day. Though warm, the temperature had dropped a few degrees now that the sun had dipped low in the sky.

  Lindsey collapsed in her chair. “What do we do now?”

  Cherise brought up the email she’d received. “Susan sent additional information on Corey and Amanda. Quite interesting, really.”

  Lindsey sat up straighter. “The message you were reading in the cab?”

  “Appears Corey and Amanda have been busy. Susan confirmed they have taken nearly two dozen Caribbean cruises over the past two years. Different cruise lines, always traveling together, and no cruise longer than seven days.”

  “Did they correspond to any missing person’s cases?”

  “Only the three we know about. But we know not all cases are reported.”

  “So . . . ?”

  “So we keep digging,” Cherise said. “But I have to admit, Amanda confused me. It’s too bad we didn’t have a chance to feel out Corey.”

  “He’s supposed to be back in a couple of days. We can wait.”

  Cherise shrugged. “If that’s what it comes down to.”

  “You have another plan?”

  “I do. Tomorrow morning I’m searching his condo.”

  Lindsey sat upright, clearly stunned by what she heard. “You mean you’re breaking into his place?”

  Cherise smiled. “Unless you have a key.”

  “I assume you know what you’re doing?”

  “It’s what I do. Remember?” Cherise looked Lindsey in the eyes. “If the idols are there, we know who killed your father.”

  “And if they aren’t?”

  “Assuming he’s involved, he’s already sold them.”

  Lindsey slumped, the surprise gone from her expression. “Where would that leave us?”

  “I can’t say until I’ve had a look inside his condo.”

  Silence fell on the table. Lindsey faced the ocean as though seeking the solace of the breaking waves. Something in her mood had changed.

  Cherise waited.

  Lindsey sat staring at the ocean for a full two minutes. When it seemed she had become lost in thought, she said, “All of a sudden this feels very real. The way those months in Afghanistan felt.”

  “Any conclusions?”

  “When we started, all I could think about was revenge at any cost. It seemed right to make someone pay for the loss of a father I had so little time with. But it’s not that black and white, is it?”

  “You mean a line drawn in the sand with the good on one side and the bad on the other? No, it isn’t. Not everyone turns out to be who you think they are.”

  “Like Amanda?”

  “Exactly like Amanda. Only we know she was on the cruise with your father.”

  “You said she confused you. This entire mess is confusing.”

  “We’ll sort it out one way or another.”

  “I wish I had your confidence.”

  Cherise offered a smile of support. “You did great today. Now, I’m going to order an iced tea. Care to join me?”

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

  Their order arrived, and Cherise sipped from a tall fluted glass with a lemon slice on the rim and a colorful miniature paper umbrella. To anyone watching, the beverage could easily be mistaken for a fancy rum drink.

  The sun continued to set, spreading color across the sky. Clouds over the Atlantic reflected a pale wash of reds and oranges. And though the sun had set behind them, she remembered the sunsets she and Jack shared until a few days ago. He never wanted to miss the spray of color that came at day’s end.

  And she quickly understood the magic.

  “Excuse me,” a male voice said.

  Cherise turned to see a tall, blond, deeply tanned, handsome young man wearing a tennis outfit and carrying a rocks glass, walk up to their table. He swayed just enough for her to know that wasn’t his first drink of the afternoon. Some type of whiskey over a few cubes of ice, she guessed.

  He pointed with his glass, sloshing a bit of the amber liquid over the rim. “Aren’t you the actress who plays the spy in that new movie?”

  Cherise knew he directed his question at her. “I’m afraid you have me mixed up with someone else.”

  He reached for a chair and attempted to slide it back. She locked it in place with her foot. “This is a private party and we’d like to be left alone.”

  “No reason to get nasty,” he said, anger creeping into his voice. “I was only being sociable.”

  “I understand that. We’d just like you to be sociable someplace else.”

  “Your pretty friend hasn’t asked me to leave.” He directed his gaze at Lindsey. “Maybe she’d enjoy some male company.”

  “She doesn’t have to,” Cherise said. “I’m telling you.”

  He stared a moment. Then huffed. “You bitch actresses think you’re so hot. Well I have news for you. Your movie sucks.”

  Cherise smiled. “Thank you. You can leave now.”

  “Bitch,” he mumbled as he turned and walked away.

  “You sure handled him,” Lindsey said.

  “Not much to handle.”

  “But he could have been trouble.”

  Cherise noticed the young man glaring at them from his table twenty feet away.

  Asshole.

  She said, “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “The ladies room. Stay here and save our table.”

  She got up and strode past Asshole without as much as a sideways glance at him. After a few steps, she heard a chair scrape back and figured he had an idea of catching her alone. Exactly what she thought he’d do.

  A part of her hoped she’d figured wrong.

  She continued along the empty corridor as though unaware of his presence. The scuff of the soles of his shoes scraping on the tile floor told her he had quickened his pace. Intoxicated, but not that intoxicated.

  Game on.

  She let him come.

  Her next move was up to him.

  “Hey,” he said, his hand on her arm.

  She spun and grabbed him by the throat.

  His eyes widened; he tried to pull her hand away.

  She didn’t give him a chance.

  “Fuck off,” she said, slamming him against the wall.

  He shook his head violently from side to side. “I . . . I—”

  “You had your chance, asshole.” She kneed him between the legs and let him slide to the floor.

  He rolled onto his side and moaned with both hands gripping his groin.

  Satisfied the obnoxious idiot would give them no further trouble, she returned to her iced tea. Taking her seat, she saw a look of concern on Lindsey’s face.

  “What?” she asked.

  Lindsey stared, concern turning to surprise. “I saw that young man get up and follow you.”

  Cherise noticed he hadn’t returned to his table. She smiled. “No worries. He has his hands full.”

  CHAPTER 34

  At eight the next morning, wearing black compressive running tights, a short-sleeved gray T, fanny pack, and running shoes, Cherise joined Lindsey at the patio restaurant for breakfast. Mr. Tennis sat three tables away, nursing a Bloody Mary. He shot a couple of nervous glances in their direction, got up without his drink, and strode off toward the Surf Break bar.

  “Isn’t that the guy from yesterday?” Lindsey asked.

  �
�His color’s a little ghostly this morning.” Cherise watched him walk away. “Must have been something I said.”

  Lindsey chuckled. “I’m guessing he won’t be making any rude passes at women anytime soon.”

  “With that Ken-doll look and all those perfect white teeth, he’s probably not used to women rejecting his charm so readily.” Cherise focused her full attention on Lindsey. “That’s enough about him. Let’s talk about today.”

  “You’re still going through with your idea?”

  “Just as soon as we finish breakfast.”

  “Then there’s nothing to discuss.”

  “You made it quite clear you’re not happy having to stay behind. But that’s the way it has to be. And we talked about that.”

  “We did,” Lindsey said. “And I agreed. It’s just that last night I got to thinking.”

  “And?”

  “You’re insisting there’s no other way?”

  “There’s always another way,” Cherise said. “Only I’m not willing to wait for Corey to get home to have a look around his apartment. Time is of the essence. If we’re chasing a dead end, we need to refocus our investigation.”

  “Amanda lives next door. She’ll hear you.”

  “Not if I’m quiet.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “No more than an hour. Two, tops. Use the time to relax as if you’re on vacation. Kick back by the pool. Treat yourself to a massage. Just try not to worry.”

  Lindsey faced the ocean, her eyes concealed behind the dark lenses of her glasses. “Just be careful.”

  “You know I will.”

  After a quick fruit and coffee breakfast, Cherise left Lindsey sitting at their table and walked to the portico. Lindsey had the wait ahead of her to deal with. Probably the hardest part.

  Cherise had to wait for her taxi to arrive. The easy part. She checked her watch. Dispatch had said ten minutes. She thought about the big, black man at the doorway into Winslow House and looked inside her fanny pack to make sure Carla Simmons’ business card was there, just in case.

  The only wildcard was Amanda.

  “Excuse me,” a male voice said.

  Cherise recognized it immediately.

  Mr. Tennis: AKA, Asshole.

  She detected something different about his tone. Not the pushy young man from the night before. A note of apprehension. Hesitation. She turned and waited to hear what he had to say.

  He stood five feet away, appearing hesitant to step a foot closer. “I’m sorry to interrupt your morning, but I’m checking out of the hotel and I want to apologize for my behavior last evening. I acted totally inappropriate.”

  “I won’t hold it against you,” Cherise said.

  “Thank you. And please extend my apology to your friend.”

  “I’ll be sure and do that,” she said. She heard a vehicle stop behind her with the engine running.

  He pointed. “I believe your taxi is here. Do have a good day.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  She climbed into the back seat and the driver sped away.

  Lesson learned.

  She exited the cab at the same location she and Lindsey had the day before. She knew what she’d say to the doorman. Surely he’d remember her.

  Provided someone new hadn’t taken his spot.

  To her relief, she saw the familiar black face smiling at her from the doorway. “My friend and I were here yesterday with Ms. Simmons, our real-estate agent. You probably remember me.”

  “I do,” he said. “And where is your friend?”

  She smiled. “Lindsey had business to take care of this morning or she would have come with me.”

  “That’s too bad. Have you decided to purchase a unit?”

  “Actually, I dropped by because I wanted one more look around before I make my final decision. Ms. Simmons would’ve been here, but she had a prior appointment. I hope it’s all right with you that I came alone.”

  He flashed his toothy grin and said, “Of course. Take your time.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be sure and tell my friend you asked about her.”

  She went directly to the seventh floor and paused twenty feet from Corey’s door to look and listen. Hearing only muffled TV sounds coming from one of the other units and seeing no one, she decided to walk straight to the door, pick the lock, and get inside before someone stepped into the hallway.

  A minute, maybe two.

  She took three steps and stopped when she saw the doorknob turn.

  CHAPTER 35

  Cherise only had a couple of seconds to decide her next move. She considered turning and stepping away in the opposite direction. But Corey didn’t know her. She could walk right past him if he’d returned early from his trip. He’d be none the wiser.

  His sister would be a different issue.

  She and Amanda hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms.

  And it wasn’t all that unlikely Amanda had slipped next door to check on her brother’s place. Surely they had exchanged keys for just that reason.

  Cherise decided to play out the situation and walked calmly, focusing her eyes on an imaginary point several doors farther down. A half-dozen steps away, the door swung inward. And a half-second later, a Latino woman holding a basket of cleaning supplies stepped into the hallway.

  The woman’s gaze met Cherise’s and registered surprise. Clearly, she hadn’t expected to practically run into someone passing by.

  “Buenos dias,” the woman said, easing the door closed behind her.

  The encounter, purely innocent. The woman, friendly. Cherise smiled and replied in a hushed tone, “Buenos dias.”

  Wanting to avoid further conversation so close to Amanda’s door, she continued walking. To her relief, the cleaning lady strode off in the opposite direction.

  Cherise continued on past Amanda’s door to not draw attention, chanced a glance over her shoulder, and noticed the woman was gone. What had seemed a stroke of bad luck, might actually work in her favor. She planned to search Corey’s condo quickly and silently. But there was always a possibility she wouldn’t be the quiet little mouse she intended to be. Should that happen, Amanda would likely know about the cleaning lady being next door.

  One noise the same as the other.

  But she needed to work fast.

  She hurried back to Corey’s door, picked the lock, and slipped inside.

  A burglar alarm seemed like a real possibility. No loud ringing. A silent signal relayed to a monitoring company miles away. A contingency she had planned for. The cleaning lady might have the code. Or more likely, Amanda would have disarmed the system in preparation for housekeeping service.

  She located the control panel and found the alarm had been turned off.

  Though she had been saved the risk of bypassing the system, Amanda could return any moment to reset it.

  A real possibility she didn’t want to think about.

  She stepped into the living room and slipped on a pair of thin leather gloves. The floorplan looked to be a duplicate of the unit she and Lindsey had walked through the day before. An unanticipated advantage that would help simplify the search.

  She scanned the furnishings, and mentally noted how different they were from his sister’s.

  Egotistic. Narcissistic.

  Definitely full of himself.

  Pathetic.

  She had no interest in Corey’s plethora of fishing memorabilia, the two-thousand framed photographs of him posing with monster fish, or his abundance of high-end electronics.

  But his décor said a lot about him.

  She had handled a couple of recovery jobs for a millionaire named Peter Jackson, fifty-two years old, visibly fit, obsessed with holding onto his youth, much like Corey. A year later the inevitable caught up with him. In spite of his exercise regimen, vitamins, the plastic surgery, and the hair dye, his heart exploded in a massive coronary. Family genetics he couldn’t beat.

  Moving fast, she searched the di
splay cases. Brass fishing trophies, a mounted black piranha the size of a dinner plate, a squat half-man/half-beast carved in stone, but no gold idols. She looked behind pictures for a wall safe, searched drawers in the sofa tables, the kitchen, the guest bedroom, closet, and bath.

  Nothing to link him to Lindsey’s father’s death.

  She moved on to the master bedroom and found a two cubic foot floor safe in the closet. Large enough to hold the idols. For the heck of it, she stooped and tried the door handle.

  No surprise.

  Without a combination and no time to crack the locking mechanism, she moved on to a desk sitting in the corner of the room. People hide combinations. She held onto that thought as she searched the drawers. She sat on her heels, exasperated. That’s when she noticed the envelope tucked into the corner of the desk blotter.

  More so, the name Dream World Travel embossed on it.

  She slid her fingertips under the flap and removed a single ticket aboard the Caribbean Sensation in Corey Jameson’s name.

  A four-night cruise departing July 18th, returning July 22nd.

  Another pigeon for the plucking.

  How many victims have there been?

  She might never know.

  A bigger question remained. Would Corey and Amanda continue killing until someone stopped their deadly game?

  She snapped a photo with her phone, slid the ticket back into the envelope, and returned it to the corner of the blotter. Corey, she understood. Amanda remained a mystery.

  She didn’t fit the mold.

  Cherise glanced at her watch, feeling she had pushed her luck.

  She hurried to the front door. Her hand inches from the knob, when she heard the door to the adjoining unit, close. Amanda’s condo. Amanda the accountant would be conscientious about resetting the alarm in her brother’s place.

  Cherise bolted for the balcony.

  CHAPTER 36

  Jack stared over his cup of morning coffee at the note he’d removed from the torn backing on the photograph. Could the answer really be that easy?

  Possibly.

  That notion left him thinking of ways to sneak into the back room at Sloppy Joe’s. Each time, the scenario ended with Officers Zackary and Harper leading him and Robert out in handcuffs.