by Rick Murcer
Munoz tilted his head. “Very insightful, Agent Williams.”
“There is one more thing. I know you’ll have your folks run down the feather types, etc. But I’d do something else.”
“Yes?”
“The knife he used to make the incisions. The blade was obviously sharp, but unless I miss my guess, he would have used an ancient Mayan dagger with as much significance to the sacrificial order as possible. It would make him feel more like the priest he is emulating or perhaps thinks he is,” said Manny. “See if you can locate some of those blades.”
Munoz nodded to his female assistant, and she rushed out the door.
“We will begin working with who and what we have available. You all have been of tremendous assistance. Thank you for your efforts, agents.”
He reached out his hand to Manny, who hesitated and then gripped it.
The room seemed to sigh with unrequited relief. None of the BAU members or Chloe spoke. It was as if breaking the silence would bring them back to a different reality—that they weren’t truly finished with this case. Manny knew what they were all thinking. The handshake sealed the deal, right?
That’s it. We’re out of here.
“Good luck,” said Manny.
“Our fortunes have greatly increased,” said Munoz with another one of those tired smiles Manny recognized as a reflection of his own world every so often.
No rest for the weary.
Shaking everyone else’s hand in turn, Munoz thanked them individually. Sophie didn’t give him the chance for a handshake. She hugged him and then held him at arm’s length.
“We’re out of here and thanks for not pushing us further. Williams here doesn’t know when to stop.”
“A curse and a blessing, to be sure,” said Munoz. “Let me get you back to the resort. I’m sure Missus Downs is anxious to have you all join her.”
Getting behind Manny, Sophie pushed him toward the door. “You first. I don’t trust you bringing up the rear. We could be here another two days.”
Manny laughed.
She was right.
They reached the warm air of Cozumel and the street where a fairly new, blue and white police transport van awaited them.
Manny helped Chloe up the step and then settled in beside her, holding hands and making small talk.
Just as Alex reached the door, his phone went off to the ringtone of an old Chicago love song. Barb was calling.
His friend pulled the phone from his pocket quickly, almost in panic mode. Manny didn’t blame him. What they’d just gone through in the meeting room would put anyone on edge.
A moment later Alex’s stress evolved into a grin. “Yeah, I think we can do that. See you soon.”
He hung up and plopped down beside Sophie.
“What was that?” she asked, sitting close to Dean.
“She wanted to know if a six-thirty dinner was good and could we handle a couple of bottles of expensive champagne.”
“Oh. I love how that woman thinks,” answered Sophie.
The drive back to the resort was without incident. They were even able to see some of the old, quaint shops littering downtown San Miguel. Including one called The Jaguar’s Lair. It was an old book and antique shop advertising links to the Mayan past. Manny made a note to visit the shop. Bringing home an actual piece of history for Jen appealed to him far more than trinkets made in another nation. There was something else. He wondered if Aaron Rathburn had been in this shop. It was worth the effort to see. He’d give the information to the hotel’s security staff. Maybe Torres could get it right and check to find out.
They reached the resort and waved as the van left the property.
“Let’s get to that dinner,” said Dean. “I’m starved.”
Glancing at the door, then both sides of the driveway, Manny saw nothing suspicious. Nothing, or no one, that needed his attention or the BAU’s expertise. The feeling was as foreign to him as a good night’s sleep.
He shook his head. That was really it. The profile was all Munoz truly wanted. Nothing more. No more bodies that screamed to him for justice. No more photos that caused his guts to clinch and forced him into another emotionless, cold world. No more psycho heads to worm inside and discover logic that defied logic.
The choice and circumstance to be free was exhilarating.
“Manny? Are you ready, man?”
He sighed. “I think I am. Let’s do this.”
Chloe kissed him on the cheek, and they followed the others inside.
Tonight was theirs, and nothing could change that.
CHAPTER-24
The midnight moon, although not quite full, reflected a silver glow from the sheen of the lush plants. The tiny clearing had all of the light necessary to complete the task. It was finally here. The culmination of all of those long hours of planning. Of working out details. Of righting what was wrong.
His heart was prancing a hundred miles per hour, yet he saw his purpose and his goal as clearly as ever.
Stretching his hand to his side, he felt the steel of the long knife and the shorter one beside it. The blades were cold, but the night was warm and full of promise. Promise that he prayed would end the hell that had begun those months ago.
“Of course it will,” he whispered. “The gods never lie.”
He laughed softly. “Gods indeed.”
He approached the middle of the clearing and stared at his feet. Slowly, he removed his feathered headdress. Then the matching ankle bracelets. Then the wrist and armbands. Lastly, the leather loin cloth and ceremonial chest plate.
With each subsequent removal of his dress, he felt his freedom return. It was as if the chosen deities had designed this costume—and the successive ritual—to bind and restrict rather than to free.
Tonight, he would be free, at last.
Slowly, he dropped to his knees, reaching for the knife from his discarded cloth.
There would be no prayer this night. No thought of which god he should please and which one would be offended. To hell with gods that would claim his allegiance and then allow him to beg for something they could never deliver. No, not this evening. Not in this circle of light he’d so carefully planned and created. This was his world for an evening, and he would take from it what he desired. All that he desired.
Without warning, her face rose from the opulent underbrush just mere feet away. Her look was the same. Her eyes were soft and kind, her mouth displaying the electric smile that had comforted him and defused life’s most problematic situations. Together, they had been one; separated, they were lost. Hadn’t that been her favorite quote to him?
He watched as her image moved closer, then melted into the misty light. Once again he was left to wonder why she’d departed from him, again. But he dwelled on that for only a moment.
Reality had made headway in his mind as well as his heart. She’d left him, and he at least understood that desires and actuality were as far apart as east and west.
Steeling his thoughts, he moved his mind to the current task at hand. Literally.
The two scarlet blankets had been placed with precise care, as had the bound occupants now lying upon them.
The woman’s eyes showed no fear, no emotion at all. It was as if she expected her walk on earth to end this way. Maybe she was right. Didn’t we all have some inkling of when and how this walk would end? He thought so.
The man was still struggling to free himself, although the drug had taken much of his fight. His expression was still haunted by disbelief and recognition, even in his state.
There was silent begging in the man’s eyes. As if their past would save him.
It would not. He was dead wrong.
He smiled at his two companions. “No more worries. No more. You will both be free.”
Freedom dances to many tunes.
Tears began to roll down his face at the thought of his words.
“Tonight. I will be free,” he whispered.
He raised the knife,
hesitated, and then ripped it through the air, over and over again.
CHAPTER-25
He gazed at her arm as it rested across his chest, his hair creating a thin mat caressing her forearm and hand. His index finger performed a slow dance over her wrist and down to her fingers. His stomach did its best to tame the butterflies that had suddenly appeared.
The touch of a woman . . .
Manny had been awake for fifteen minutes, the bright morning sun proving to be the alarm clock he’d never really needed in his life. He supposed his internal clock was a witness to his perpetual state of mind, where the wheels were always turning.
During those fifteen minutes, he explored a world he seldom had the opportunity to pursue. He raised his eyebrows at that thought—not exactly right. Maybe he’d had opportunity but simply hadn’t seized it. His mental state was a hurried blur at most times, infinitely moving from one problem to the next. But not now. Not this morning. This moment wouldn’t be another casualty of his endless appointments.
He listened to Chloe breathe, watching the rise and fall of her breasts, and found a quieting rhythm in both. He explored the warmth of her body as her legs rested against him at the thigh and hip, all of the while counting the freckles on his Irish wife’s nose. He gently brushed her long, red hair away from her face to get a better look at the woman who had saved him from the life he’d feared after Louise had died.
A life alone shouldn’t be on anyone’s horizon.
Chloe shifted in her sleep, smiling at a dream world he couldn’t see, but it reminded him of the previous night. As if he really needed a reminder.
The evening had been everything he hoped it would be. The fabulous dinner of lobster and steak served with a special Caribbean spice. Spectacular. Although he wasn’t much of a wine connoisseur, he doubted he’d partaken in a wine smoother than the pinot noir the waiter had recommended.
Great wine, great service, and the soft ambiance that only a private balcony overlooking the ocean could offer had forged a permanent pleasant memory. Never mind the opportunity to indulge in such a meal with his closest friends, which only added to the unforgettable evening.
Yet all of that had not compared to the way Chloe had stolen the night by quite simply being Chloe.
Not because of the strapless jade gown that fit like it had been tailored for her alone, and how it matched those incredible eyes. Or the face that had caused everyone at the table to steal secret looks, including him.
Not because of her full, infectious giggle bursting with the Irish cadence that caused everyone at the table to smile wider or laugh louder, especially when she told one of her stories of growing up in Galway. He remembered being mesmerized with just the way her mouth had moved when she spoke.
Not because of how she held his hand under the table or the way she ran her hand along his thigh when they shared a moment that was theirs alone. Not even the fact that they’d fit like a hand and glove when they slow-danced to the talented band whose specialty, it seemed, had been to entice couples to fall deeper in love with one another.
It hadn’t even been the sight of her slowly removing the tight-fitting gown strictly for his benefit, teasing him in every possible way.
All of those things had accented the night’s experience, but none of it compared to the idea that she was his wife. That she’d taken him to be hers, despite the obvious baggage Manny Williams had brought to the table. Extensive baggage.
He glanced at the claddagh wedding ring on his left hand.
Extensive was right. She’d inherited a teenaged daughter missing her deceased mother, a black Lab the size of a hippo, a group of friends that probably wouldn’t be classified as normal in any circumstance, and a husband who thought the world needed him every waking moment—and then almost losing him before they could celebrate a full day of marriage.
Not to mention a new job after having to leave the BAU and the new son that came less than a year later.
Looking at the ring again, Manny sighed. Chloe definitely got the short end of the stick, but here she was . . . and she was here to stay.
“If you’re thinking of having your way with me again, you’ll have to wait.”
Turning her way, he fell into the smile that had captured his imagination from the beginning.
“What? I have to wait for you to perform your womanly duties?”
“Yeah. I think it’d be best if I made you exercise some patience. I don’t want ya to get too much of a good thing. It might kill ya.”
He nodded as he reached over and kissed her. “You’re such a good wife. How long will I have to wait?”
“Well, I need to go powder my nose and put on that short, red teddy you like, so how’s three minutes work for ya?”
“I think I can wait it out. It’ll be hard though.”
She reached under the sheet and squeezed him. “Just checking to see just how hard it’ll be.”
He caught his breath. “How am I doing?”
She answered with a kiss as soft as an ocean breeze. He felt it right down to his toes.
She slid out of bed and stood, smiling at him. “I think I’ll cut the time in half. You do seem a bit needy.”
Two minutes later, Chloe moved to his side of the bed, wearing the lacy red teddy and a look in her eyes that told him he was, once again, the luckiest man on earth.
An hour later, Manny stood on the balcony facing the Caribbean Ocean, watching the sun rise to its almost unfathomable splendor. He’d been fortunate to travel much of the planet over the years, and had seen a few natural wonders, but there wasn’t anything quite like a sunrise that warmed both inside and out. Especially after last night and this morning.
“Careful, Williams, you just might get used to this,” he breathed.
He sipped his coffee and turned his ear toward the room. Chloe was singing an old Irish ballad in the shower, and it sounded wonderful. She sang the archaic tune with sprinkles of the ancient Gaelic language that seemed to belong to another world.
He supposed it did.
Manny was struck with the realization that the Irish did a wonderful service to their youth by reminding them often of their roots. He was almost jealous that he had nothing like that to pass on to Jen. Although she’d already begun to show signs of being her father’s daughter, there was no language or ancient history to send her way. Ian would have a chance to learn from his mom and grandmum.
Ian.
Manny felt his emotion rise at the thought of him. He hadn’t gone many nights without seeing his son. Ian was in good hands, and everything was quiet on the home front, according to Jen and Haley Rose, but that didn’t stop a quick pang of missing-my-boy from making an appearance.
Sighing, he siphoned more coffee from his cup.
There was simply no way to cover all of the bases for men like himself. Maybe buying an island and living in isolation was the answer. He laughed.
“Yeah, that would work for you,” he said out loud.
Chloe began the next verse, and her sweet tones caused him to shake his head. Add singing and use of Gaelic to the other obvious gifts his wife possessed.
Turning back to the ocean, Manny watched a freighter steam along, maybe two miles out. Just to its left was a much bigger vessel, getting larger by the second.
A cruise ship was approaching the island, bringing another boatload of bright-eyed tourists eager to see what Cozumel had to offer. The excited passengers were in for a treat.
Nothing was perfect, but the cruising industry had shrunk the world with affordable prices, allowing folks from all walks of life to see places they may never have had an opportunity to . . .
His thoughts were interrupted by something out of the corner of his eye.
Just to the right of the small, white sandbar that stretched some eighty feet out into the ocean was a yellow rubber raft rising and falling with the waves.
His pulse rose as he studied the raft, which appeared to be anchored. And each time the waves caused the
raft to rise, he could see what appeared to be someone lying inside.
He strained his eyes. There was something, but what? Two hundred or so feet was simply too far for him to pick out the details.
At that moment, an older woman walking the beach with her black poodle must have noticed the raft too, because she picked up the dog and began to walk the long side of the sand bar.
He waited. She was about to get an eyeful that would send her to the therapy couch.
Stepping inside, he moved to Chloe’s backpack and extracted the small binoculars she had intended to use to look at the wildlife when they visited the ruins at San Gervasio.
The scream told him he hadn’t acted quickly enough.
Dropping the empty case onto the bed, he hurried to the balcony, bringing the binoculars to his eyes in one motion.
The woman was sprinting back to the beach as a few early morning beachgoers began to gather toward her.
He waited impatiently for the wave to rise.
As the ocean suspended the raft in its perfect rhythm, he felt the breath leave his lungs. He continued to stare, because what he’d seen was almost too much for him to get his mind around.
Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him.
After the next gentle wave, he caught the view again.
His eyes weren’t playing tricks.
Another torrent of screams confirmed that fact.
“Damn it,” he whispered, wondering again why his world was filled with such things, even on vacation.
It was as if Satan and God had a bet on how much he could handle and whether he’d go crazy from this sort of thing before he checked out.
He continued to stare through the binoculars as the next wave rolled a foot higher, giving Manny the most direct, horrifying view of the two bloodied bodies taped to the raft.
