Caribbean Fire

by Rick Murcer

  Sophie shrugged. “All right. It could work. But what if it doesn’t? You and I both know that more than half of all serial killers are never discovered, let alone arrested.”

  “True, but we have a captive audience here. Plus, if you’re right and he’s done killing, his personality traits will be different than a true serial killer. Remember, I think this is a spree killer. He’ll be less outgoing, maybe more soft spoken, and his past might be uneventful. Not like the sick bastards that can’t stop what they’re doing.”

  “You keep going back to the fact that he’s a spree killer, and I get that, but in the end, something set him off, just like all of the others, right?”

  “I think so. But Berkowitz, the Son of Sam killer, was schizophrenic and paranoid, and that added to his delusions. He even thought the neighbors and their dogs were demons.”

  “So you’re going to eliminate suspects, not select one, right?”

  Manny nodded, feeling the rush of the chase suddenly pulse through his veins. Putting these people away was like nothing on the planet for him. But at what cost?

  Talk about a love/hate relationship with one’s vocation.

  “That’s the plan. If we strike out, at least that’s six men we can eliminate.”

  “Sounds like a plan, but everyone has a plan until they get bitch-slapped,” said Sophie.

  Manny laughed. “Good point. Let’s not get slapped.”

  Standing, Sophie stretched and then punched Manny playfully on the arm. “Right. That never happens to us.”

  “Another good observation.”

  He stood beside her as the Bureau’s jet rolled to a stop fifty yards away.

  “Let’s go see what Josh brought us,” said Manny as he moved toward the tarmac door.

  “Hell yeah. It might be a pony. Better yet, a crystal ball that gets this case over with so I can go back to the beach with all my organs in place and not being measured for a casket.”

  There was no smile from Manny on that one. They’d lost people on this path. He didn’t relish that situation again. He pushed at the uneasy feeling. It drifted to the back of his mind but didn’t leave completely. Then again, did it ever?

  Once through the doors, the strong odor of jet fuel combined with the noise of powerful engines reminded Manny of just how well-built airport terminals were.

  He glanced into the air and watched as two more small planes circled to land. It was still a true mystery to him how iron vessels weighing untold tons could get off the ground and fly six-hundred miles an hour to then land softly at any given destination.

  Before they reached the plane, the door swung open, the steps were lowered, and Josh Corner climbed out, blue travel bag over his shoulder. He stopped and waved at Sophie and Manny, then turned his attention toward the jet as a young woman moved to the first step then navigated the rest, joining Josh on the ground.

  Her limp was noticeable. She didn’t exactly bounce down the steps, but she had found a way to cope with her condition.

  This woman was obviously the surprise, but Manny wasn’t sure what that meant.

  “Who’s that?” asked Sophie as she and Manny approached the plane.

  “I don’t know. Could be our surprise.”

  “Shit. No pony.”

  “I don’t see a crystal ball either.”

  “Hey, she might be it.”

  Sophie made a beeline to Josh, hugging him and pecking him on the cheek. “Hey, handsome. Good to see you.”

  “Thanks. You too, Sophie.”

  Manny reached out his hand and Josh ignored it, giving him a hug that any bear would be proud of.

  “Glad to see you too, old man,” said Josh.

  “Yeah well, it’s better than the alternative,” he answered, grinning.

  Josh stepped back and motioned to the young woman to come closer.

  “Sophie Lee and Manny Williams, this is Belle Simmons, the newest member of the BAU,” said Josh, his expression beaming like the Mexican sun.

  This time Manny beat Sophie to the punch and stepped in front of her. He reached out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Belle. You’re immediately on the prayer list.”

  Her laugh was genuine and full. He liked her.

  “I need all of the help I can get. That works for me. It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Agent Williams. I’ve dreamed of working with you and the BAU for years,” she answered, her eyes dancing.

  “Just Manny, okay?”

  “Deal.”

  “Get out of the way. I’ve been waiting for this since Chloe left the BAU,” said Sophie, bumping past Manny, shaking Belle’s hand. “Hey, Belle. In case you didn’t notice, I’m Asian and hot. Since you’re black and hot, we’re going to be good friends, unless people think you’re hotter than me, then . . . well, you figure it out.”

  Belle laughed again, clasping Sophie’s hand with both of hers. “Hotter than you will be tough.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about. She can stay, Josh.”

  “I’m glad you said that. Otherwise, she’d have to turn around and fly home.”

  “That’s not happening. I’m in Cozumel, baby,” said Belle.

  Manny wasn’t sure the smile would ever vacate her pretty face. Then he was reminded why she was here. The smile would abandon her face soon enough. It always did. Still, Belle Simmons seemed even keeled and extremely bright. She was a profiler and not just an investigator, no question.

  Tilting her head, Belle watched Manny, and the smile slipped, then returned as fast as it had disappeared. “Am I getting the famous Williams profile?”

  “Oh, sorry. But I suppose so. Force of habit.”

  “I’m looking forward to hearing what you see and what you think you see,” said Belle.

  “Yeah well, careful what you wish for,” said Sophie.

  “I’m sorry, didn’t hear that,” said Belle.

  The engine noise had become increasingly louder.

  “BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR,” repeated Sophie.

  “OH. RIGHT,” answered Belle, smiling.

  The roar grew noticeably louder as Josh pointed to the terminal. “Maybe we should go inside.”

  Manny nodded and twisted toward the almost unbearable sound coming from the runway.

  His heart jumped into his throat.

  The twin prop was almost on them.

  CHAPTER-31

  “Really? That’s all we get from this car?” said Dean.

  Alex held three bags in his right hand and had four more sitting in the makeshift crime-scene evidence holder they’d constructed from one of the hotel laundry hampers.

  “Yeah well, the boat gave us even less . . . and it was mostly tainted too,” answered Alex.

  “Raft. It’s a raft.”

  “Okay, Beard Boy, raft. You can call it the Titanic if you want, but we ain’t gonna get anything from it,” said Alex, leaning against the Lexus.

  The day had grown decidedly warmer in the early-afternoon sun. Dean loved the sun and warmth, but dripping sweat leading to an exchange from his purple paisley driver’s cap to a red dew rag hadn’t been in the plans for the day. Hell, none of this had. But there was a crease of Manny in every member of the BAU, so here they were.

  “I loved that movie,” he said, squinting at Alex.

  “What? Oh. Titanic? Seen it at least six times.”

  “Get out of Dodge, really? Eleven times for me. But then again I’ve been single longer.”

  “True. By the way, how’s that married thing working? Don’t get me wrong, I love the woman, but we’re talking Sophie here,” asked Alex. The wry grin was hard to ignore.

  Dean started to answer then hesitated. Describing life with his Princess—the type of woman he’d always dreamed of marrying—wasn’t that easy.

  Her personality was paradoxical to understate, yet her compassionate, insightful light shined far brighter than anyone would guess. She loved with a special verve, and not just the lovemaking, but the emotional part . . . it was somewhere past
the red line.

  “You know, all I can say is I’m the luckiest man on the planet. I’d do anything for her. She’s made my life more than a blip on the evolutionary map.”

  “Wow. That was romantic, I think. Anyway, glad it’s working. She’s still a pain in my fat butt from time to time, but she’s changed for the better.”

  “You two are like a brother and sister, so that goes with the territory. But we can talk about this over some cold tea and a huge burger because I’m getting hungry.”

  Reaching for the laundry cart, Alex tossed in the evidence bags and pushed the cart toward Dean.

  “What do you think happened here?” asked Dean.

  “Well, we did our best with what we had, and you know how I feel about guesswork, but we may have to do some of that.”

  “I agree. We might not have a lot of luck IDing DNA from the bodily fluids in the back seat, but we know for sure there was some hanky-panky going on back there,” said Dean, wiping more moisture from his nose.

  “That was a great song. Tommy James and the Shondells, nineteen sixty-seven,” said Alex, grinning.

  “Good song. But it was sixty-six, dude,” said Dean.

  Raising his eyebrows, Alex then nodded slowly. “You’re right. Must be the heat.”

  “It is warm. I got a few hairs from the back and some routine fibers, but I’m not holding out hope,” said Dean, running over the evidence bag contents again. “Nothing that makes me want to get excited.”

  “Same here. That toothpick from the trunk might be something, but with almost no fingerprints, this one will be difficult to unwind. The fact that the killer wiped down the inside and the door handles means he knew what he was doing.”

  “Hey, we got a couple smudges. That sort of fits this guy’s profile though. We knew he was probably bright and well educated. Just once I’d like to get one of those unsubs with an eighty-two.”

  “True. These guys still make mistakes though, so we might have to guess a little on a couple of things to get to the next step.”

  Dean thought Manny would be proud of his science guys theorizing about what could have happened in order to determine the next possible steps.

  “Let’s start with a couple things I’d like to know. First, providing that it’s Rathburn’s DNA back there; who was in the back seat with him? And second, what did this guy do to overpower Rathburn?”

  “I was thinking along those same lines. Let’s brainstorm about the back seat. Rathburn had money so she could have been a professional,” answered Alex.

  “Maybe. But with that kind of money, why wouldn’t you go high-end company and at least go to a motel if not her apartment?”

  “Point taken, so that could mean that it wasn’t a pro, unless he was kinky about sex in the back of a Lexus with a hooker. Assuming that wasn’t true, he probably had more than a casual relationship with his partner.”

  Dean removed his do-rag, ran his hand over his forehead, and replaced the hat. It had become virtually soaked as the sun grew warmer.

  “You’re gonna smell bad if you keep sweating like that,” said Alex.

  “Already do. And I got to tell you, you don’t smell like the first rose of spring yourself.”

  Raising one arm and sniffing, Alex reacted with a sour look. “Man, ripe is not the word for it. We’ve got to finish this up.”

  “You’re right. Not that we’re Manny or Sophie here, but if that’s the case—that he knew this woman and was having an affair—she was probably younger and hotter than his wife, who, for her age, is no pooch,” said Dean.

  Alex nodded. “She is a good-looking older woman, and I don’t get why men do that to a woman who’s been with them from the start. I guess lust is still lust. Anyway, in the event we are right, we’re searching for a lady who is younger and may have had consistent contact with Rathburn, even when he was home in England.”

  “Phone record search?” asked Dean.

  “Yep. We just need to get the info from his wife.”

  “That should be an easy sell to her. If she asks why, we can tell her we want to check out who he may have had contact—Wait.”

  “What?” said Alex, standing erect.

  The vision of the two people lying close together in the raft hit Dean as he recalled something Manny had said. “Remember Manny said that the killer may have wanted them to look like a pair, for whatever reason?”

  “Yeah . . . oh shit. You think those two were having an affair?”

  “It makes sense. She was younger, good looking, and native to Cozumel. If they were, how did the killer know about it?”

  Alex sighed. “Good question, but better yet, if he did know about it, what is their connection to him?”

  CHAPTER-32

  Reacting as if his life and the lives of his friends depended on it, Manny tackled Josh and reached for Belle and Sophie in one motion —except he missed the women. As he hit Josh around the thighs, his glance toward where Belle and Sophie had stood seconds earlier told him why he’d missed. Sophie was already on top of Belle pulling her toward the FBI’s Gulf Stream.

  “Under the jet,” yelled Sophie.

  Then she and Belle became a whirling mass of arms and legs, almost completely under the fuselage.

  Taking Sophie’s advice as quickly as the two men hit the tarmac, Josh and he began to tumble along the hot surface. Manny rolled over something that prompted a sharp pain in his left arm. He tried to ignore it and continued under the jet.

  The engine noise from the twin-engine plane heading directly for them grew to an unbearable level. In an instant, Manny realized they weren’t going to make it to where Sophie and Belle were clustered. Another quick look told him the tail section would have to do for him and Josh. Yanking at Josh’s coat sleeve, he guided him in that direction.

  The roar came closer. It appeared that the twin engine was homing directly on him and Josh like some ancient monster looking for its next meal.

  “Hurry your white asses!” screamed Sophie.

  Another good idea from Agent Lee.

  One more twist found him beside Josh, just under the right tail section, hands over his head, praying.

  The other plane was practically on top of them. Manny couldn’t see for sure, but his instincts said so.

  He was correct. The next thing he heard was metal scraping metal as the unavoidable became reality. The FBI’s jet shifted hard to the left as hot, fine shards of metal and composite rained on him and Josh. The debris felt like dozens of bee stings inflicted on his hands, neck, and legs. And while those burning slivers were uncomfortable, he braced for what was surely going to be the last sensation he’d ever feel as he was torn apart by the approaching plane’s propellers.

  How ironic. He was stabbed by a pilot in San Juan, and now here another pilot, only this time using a different tool—a twin-engine plane—might take him out. What is it with me and pilots? He waited for the crush.

  Except it didn’t happen.

  To say that the contact between the jet and plane hadn’t been what he expected from a full-on collision was an understatement. The screaming of the plane’s engines had lessened significantly and continued to recede with each second.

  Manny opened his eyes and stared at the creased arc of the FBI jet’s tail section directly above them. While that was damage enough, there wasn’t any twisted metal with sharp, threatening edges, or the like. It took a moment to realize that the plane had avoided the direct hit with the FBI’s jet and was now soaring into the Caribbean sky.

  “Are you all right?” came a voice from the steps of the plane near the midsection where Sophie and Belle huddled. The FBI’s pilot and copilot had exited the jet and were now on their knees, eyes wide with obvious concern.

  “Not counting my need for new underwear, I think we’re good,” said Belle.

  “Yeah, that’d be two of us,” agreed Sophie.

  The women began to laugh, which caused Manny to join in.

  “I think that makes three for n
ew shorts,” he said.

  “Four. Make it four,” added Josh, laughing nervously, but laughing nonetheless.

  The copilot looked at the pilot and shook her head. “We almost go up in a ball of fire, and these four are laughing? You’re right. These BAU people have slipped a knot.”

  A minute later, the six of them stood around the back of the jet. Manny reached out and touched the angled, yard-long scrape, which was still warm.

  “Did you see what happened?” asked the pilot.

  “It was a blur. All we really saw and heard was that twin prop bearing down on us and picking up speed. We hit the dust after that,” said Manny.

  The pilot nodded. “Grace and I heard the sensors go crazy inside and knew we were in trouble. We had clearance to be this close to the strip, but my guess is that someone had his head up his ass and was supposed to be one tarmac over.”

  “Well, whatever the reason, we need to file a report and get to the bottom of this,” said Josh.

  The pilot nodded, replacing his hat. “We’ll take care of all of that. I don’t think the damage will cause a flight issue for us, but we’ll see about getting it repaired, ASAP. The real question is; are you all okay? Really?”

  “Hey, I bounced down the runway on a seat in Cleveland a couple of years back. This is a mere out-of-body experience compared to that,” said Josh.

  “Good point. Don’t sweat the report and repair side of this. We’ve got it,” said the pilot.

  “Are you sure?” asked Josh.

  “Yeah, definitely. We’ve got this. Oddly enough, this happens from time to time. We’ll file the report and advise,” said the copilot. “Don’t you have some murders to solve or something?”

  “We do. Just as soon as my heart rate slows to fewer than three thousand,” said Sophie.

  As if on cue, Manny’s phone started ringing—one of Chloe’s favorite tunes. Munoz was on the other end.

  “Inspector. How can I help you?”

  As Manny listened, he felt his expression grow dark, along with his heart. A few moments later, he hung up, shaking his head.