Caribbean Fire

by Rick Murcer

  After taking three more drains from his cancer stick, he reached into his shirt pocket and lit another. It would probably be his last of the day.

  He couldn’t smoke at home, and the cab company had advised him that customers didn’t like a smoke-filled cab, so he had to stop or work somewhere else.

  There is much crap to deal with these days.

  So here he was outside of his car, standing by the roadside in a lonely stretch of gravel road between San Gervasio and his home in San Miguel, taking time with his smokes because it was one of the only locales in his life where no one would disturb him, unless you count the bugs and the iguanas. But even they stayed away when the smoke began to roll.

  Reaching into the running cab, he turned the music up. The sweet sounds from the Mexican mariachi channel filtered through the window. He began to tap his feet. That was something else he was forced to endure: American music. It was okay once in a while, but on days when the cruise ships came in, he’d learned that no one wanted to hear good Mexican music for long.

  There were no Americans in the cab now.

  Reaching back inside the car, he flipped the volume knob and the music grew louder. This was his time—to hell with all of those rules.

  The next song began to blare, and he felt his feet move past tapping. Placing the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, he began to dance in the gravel. Left. Right. Then a foot shuffle that, in his eyes, would have helped him to win it all on Dancing with the Stars Mexico.

  After another gyrating journey toward the back of the car, he stopped, bent over at the waist, and tried to catch his breath, his lungs on fire.

  Maybe his wife was right. Maybe he better quit smoking.

  “Ramon, you can’t even walk to the store without stopping for deep breaths,” she’d say.

  “You’re loco,” he’d answer.

  Perhaps he was the loco one.

  Standing upright, he removed the smoke from his lips, turned it slowly in his fingers, then dropped it on the road, grinding out the remaining embers.

  That was it. He was never going to light another. Listening to his boss or his wife rag on him to quit was one thing, but when he couldn’t dance to his favorite music . . . well, that was an entirely different story. He never went to college, but he wasn’t an idiot.

  Raising both hands in the air, he tilted his head to the blue sky. “I win. Today I—”

  The hand that seemed to come out of nowhere, clutching his arm, not only stopped his mouth, but almost stopped his heart.

  Spinning, he grabbed the hand and tore it from his arm. He’d already formed a fist with the other and was ready to swing with all he had.

  The sight of his would-be attacker put all of the wild motion spawned by his mind and body into full halt.

  The thirty-something woman was blood-streaked from numerous cuts on her legs and arms. There was a gash on her forehead, and her nose was dripping red. Her shorts and tank top were tattered, and she must have endured a hundred mosquito attacks.

  She began to fall. Without thinking, he reached out and pulled her to him.

  “Help me. Please. He’s coming. He’s coming,” she whispered.

  The sound of her raspy plea brought him out of the frightened part of his state of mind.

  Helping her to the rear door, he opened it with one hand and then placed her in the back, where she promptly sprawled the full length of the rear seat, mumbling a soft thank you over and over.

  Ramon dove into the front seat, shifted into drive, and began to drive like the devil himself was hot on his trail.

  Maybe he was.

  Three minutes later, he approached the next intersection—a four-way stop famous for its blindside accidents because overgrowth from the jungle blocked the view from three corners.

  Glancing back at his passenger, who seemed to have calmed, he looked into the rearview mirror and saw nothing. Reluctantly, he downshifted and rolled to a stop. Looking to the left, then back to the right, there was nothing. The SUV pulling up opposite him had come from the direction of San Miguel and not from behind him.

  He let out a breath, put his foot on the clutch, and shifted into first gear. He’d been wrong about the devil chasing him. Maybe today wasn’t a total loss after all. Helping a woman in distress was a good trump card.

  Ramon Alvarez never reached second gear. Two bullets ripped through his windshield, one lodging in his throat, another in his forehead.

  He didn’t see the SUV ram his tiny car. Nor did he see the man with the slight limp exit the vehicle and fire three more times directly into the back seat. Nor did he smell the gasoline as the killer soaked the inside of the cab and tossed in a burning matchbook.

  Nor did he hear the laugh that proved the devil had indeed been chasing them.

  CHAPTER-43

  Slamming her hand against the window of the SUV, Jen Williams yelled, “I’ve got the stuff. I’m here for God’s sake. Don’t do that. Not Ian. Not Ian.”

  Ennis Preston tilted his head in her direction, and she watched the insane grin crawl over his face as he waited, staring. After what seemed like an eternity, he broke eye contact, looked back to Ian, over to Haley Rose, and then slowly raised his hand, pointing for her to get into the front seat.

  She had never climbed into a car faster, her heart racing. But not just with fear and relief. Anger had begun to creep into her emotions. What right did this crazy piece of junk have to do what he was doing? She knew that answer: none. But guns talked.

  “Don’t cut it that close again, lass. Old Ennis was a wondering if ya had decided to call the police or something stupid like that.”

  “I thought about it, but it wasn’t worth taking the chance,” Jen said, unable to stymie the chill in her voice.

  “Smart choice. There would have been a lot of blood.”

  He pointed to Haley Rose, who was staring in his direction. “Get this car in motion, sweet Haley Rose.”

  Jen watched as she shifted the vehicle into reverse, but didn’t take her foot from the brake. As she turned toward Preston, her granny face was wearing a look Jen had seen only one time previously.

  Haley Rose Franson was beyond pissed.

  “If ya point that gun at either one of these babies again, you’ll have to use it before I rip the heart out of your chest,” she hissed. “Whatever you’re thinking has nothing to do with them, and I won’t stand for it.”

  Preston entertained a quick, confused frown. Jen could see he was absorbing what Haley Rose had said, and it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. She felt her pulse quicken at a higher pace because the crazy man in the back of the SUV began to act like a crazy man.

  His free hand began to bounce erratically on his knee as his eyes darted between the outside and Haley Rose’s determined expression. Jen could swear the very air in the vehicle turned to ice as this man wrestled with a demon that her granny may have awakened.

  His sudden, loud laugh caused her to jump and scared Ian. Her baby brother began to cry. Preston laughed louder. Then, moving like some kind of jungle cat, he had Haley Rose by the hair, yanking her almost over the seat.

  “You won’t stand for it? You bitch. I love ya with all I have. Focus on ya for the years I was locked up because ya were my hope, for God’s sake. I sent letters that always came back to me. But I just knew there was a reason that made a wee bit of sense. Not that ya wanted no part of me. That wasn’t possible.

  “After I finally found ya, I break rules and get illegal paperwork that lets me come to good old America so we can be together. I do all of that for us, and ya talk to me like that.”

  Ian cranked it up louder. Preston hardly noticed.

  “These babies are part of this because they’re a part of their granny. Don’t threaten me again, woman. I’ll be takin’ us all on a ride to the other side if ya do. I’ve missed you for these thirty years, and if ya won’t give us a chance, finding out if we can be together on the other side has a certain appeal. Are we clear?”

&nbs
p; “We are Ennis. Perfectly.”

  He released her hair.

  “Good.”

  He pointed to Jen. “Get back here and shut this kid up. Leave the door open and wait until I get in the front before ya take my place.”

  Without hesitating, Jen got out of the car and opened the back door.

  The seating change took only a few seconds, and then they were on the road, heading out of the neighborhood to a destination of Preston’s choice.

  Taking Ian out of his seat, Jen rocked him and talked to him like she always did when they were this close. The scent of his hair helped her to relax as he began to calm as well. She loved her granny’s bravery and how she was trying to protect them, but it had almost backfired on them. Hadn’t it?

  Or had it? She was back here with Ian and away from Preston’s focus. Maybe that’s what Haley Rose had wanted, but why?

  The small voice in her head that her dad and mom had always told her to trust was telling her to be ready.

  She would try.

  Ian snuggled closer, and she held him tighter as the SUV made one last turn. They were on the main artery heading toward the west side of town.

  As the landscape changed, Jen Williams couldn’t help wondering if she’d ever see her home again.

  CHAPTER-44

  Another meeting. Taking place in a stuffy, hot, antiquated conference room to boot.

  The sharing of information was the life blood of any investigation, and Manny was aware of how important that communication was. This meeting junk could get old, however, especially when his mind was wandering to wherever Chloe was at the moment.

  She had gone back to the hotel to call home to get an update on Ian. Something he hadn’t done since last evening. A full twenty hours. He wished he were with Chloe. He was almost jealous that his wife would hear Jen’s voice and he wouldn’t. If she were lucky, a laugh from his son would make her entire day.

  Shifting in his chair, he rearranged the files and two stacks of reports as they waited for Munoz’s arrival.

  He knew his children were fine. Haley Rose would ensure that. What could go wrong?

  “Are you ready for this?” asked Sophie, sitting on his left.

  “Yeah. I am. Just thinking about my kids and not being able to talk with them right now.”

  “Hey. When this meeting is done, nothing wrong with stealing a few minutes to make another call, right?” she said.

  “You’re right. I promised Jen I wouldn’t bug the heck out of them, but I might have to break that promise.”

  “She’ll get it. She might sound a little cranked, but she’ll get it.”

  Josh touched his arm. “Sophie’s right.”

  “I’m going to find out.”

  “So I’ve got to ask . . . what do you make of the claim that one of Emmerson’s staff was stealing artifacts?”

  “I’ve had time to think on that. What if this killer had been planning his spree all those months ago? But I want to wait for Munoz’s research before I go there, okay?”

  “Fair enough,” said Josh.

  Just then Munoz hurried into the room with two local officers, who sat at the opposite side of the table from Manny and the rest of the BAU. Munoz walked over to Manny.

  The inspector was always calm and collected, not in a hurry. This time, he seemed almost excited as he sat another stack of files in front of Manny.

  “There is one for each of you. It seems we have some coincidences to discuss, and you could be on to something, Agent Williams, with what you asked me to locate.”

  “That sounds promising. Let’s get to it.”

  Manny handed files down each side of where he sat and opened the one in front of him, then thought better of it and shut the green file folder. “Wait. Let’s start this from the beginning. It might drive you crazy, but we have to do it this way so we don’t miss anything.”

  “I understand, but Agent Williams, these findings are important and need to be discussed,” said Munoz.

  “I agree, but I haven’t heard what Alex and Dean have found, and that could be essential in taking the next step.”

  Munoz stared at Manny then ran his gaze over the rest of the BAU, stopping at Belle.

  She glanced at Manny, who nodded at her. She said, “Inspector. The reason many crimes aren’t solved is because somewhere in the process someone jumps to conclusions. One little tiny piece of information could change everything, and we need to make sure that doesn’t happen here.”

  “What she said,” added Sophie.

  “I assure you, what’s in these files is not jumping to conclusions.”

  “I believe you, but everything is important,” said Manny.

  Throwing up his hands, Munoz sighed. “As you wish. Let’s hurry.”

  “Alex and Dean?” said Manny.

  “We took a second look at the life raft and really didn’t find much more than the first crew. The salt water and heat on the rubber service did a good job of destroying most of the micro-evidence. We did find a few hairs and another one of those damn feathers tucked under the end seat. There were some prints that probably belonged to the victims. I’m waiting for the IAFIS reports to confirm. Other than that, the boat probably won’t help much,” said Alex.

  “We then processed the car, and even though we didn’t have everything available to work with that we usually have, it gave us a few things,” said Dean, stroking his beard. “We found more hairs, more fibers from the trunk as well as from the front seat—and a discarded toothpick. We’re hoping some of that evidence might get us some info on the man who drove the Lexus back to the hotel. We’ll see.”

  Alex stood, stretching his back. “We also determined that there was sexual activity in the back seat of the car. We’re awaiting DNA results from the U.S., but it doesn’t take a genius to see that Aaron Rathburn was fooling around in the vehicle. We’re sure it was him because the nature of the tests can tell us if activity is fairly recent. Since the Rathburns were on their third week at the resort, the male contribution to the mix most probably was his.”

  “Say you’re right . . . who was the woman involved?” asked Josh.

  “Could it be the dead woman in the raft?” asked Manny.

  “Yeah, good guess. You got there faster than Dean and I did,” said Alex. “It makes sense with how Manny was talking about the killer displaying them together for a reason. Again, we’re waiting for the analysis to come back from Quantico. We did, however, try to compare fingerprints of the victims with a few smudges that we found in the car the old-fashioned way.”

  Dean clarified, “We used a magnifying glass to evaluate them. Unfortunately, without much luck. We’ll have to wait for the science to talk to us.”

  “Anything else?” asked Manny.

  “No, not really. The cheap jewelry around the first four victims’ necks could be purchased at several stores and stands on the island, so nothing unique there. The feather we found at a couple of the crime scenes matched, but again, a dime a dozen in Cozumel,” said Alex.

  “That was more information than we had,” said Josh. “Maybe it will help with determining the motivation of this killer.”

  “We still have questions about the public display of those two bodies,” said Sophie. “Connected or not, what the hell was he thinking?”

  Manny shook his head. “I don’t know, but it’s a big deviation from his first four murders.”

  He turned toward an impatient Munoz. If the inspector had what Manny thought he had, this case could take an entirely new direction.

  “Let’s see what you came up with, Inspector.”

  “Agreed. We dug into Professor Emmerson’s background, and he seems impeccable in how he handles his professional life. So I don’t believe he is involved.”

  “Involved? In the murders?” asked Sophie, sitting straighter.

  “Not the murders. After Emmerson gave us the names of people who had worked the digs, I had the inspector get some other information while we checked the
background of these people,” said Manny.

  “Like what?” asked Sophie.

  “Before we discuss that, I’d like to point out something we discovered about three of Emmerson’s staff,” said Munoz.

  The room became quiet in anticipation.

  “Wait. Let me guess,” said Belle. “They were victims?”

  “Close. Two of them were. A third died at one of the sites about six months ago. She was cataloguing some items and died from an allergic reaction to scorpion stings, according to the coroner’s report.”

  “What? Why didn’t Emmerson say something about the two murdered staffers?” asked Sophie.

  “He probably didn’t know about their murders. Both people had changed their names from the time they worked for him. Emmerson wouldn’t have known that. Which makes perfect sense with the rest of the information we discovered at Agent Williams’ request.

  “Which is?” asked Josh.

  Munoz exhaled. “It seems that my island has a very robust black market involving stolen Mayan artifacts.”

  CHAPTER-45

  Chloe pushed the red button on her iPhone and dialed Haley Rose for the third time. The result was the same. Her mum’s voice encouraged the caller to leave a message, and then the annoying beep that accompanied the request made it official.

  “Hey, Mum, call me. Thanks.”

  Chloe then laid the phone on the glass table, trying to wipe the frustration away.

  “Everything all right?” asked Barb.

  “Yes, I guess. They’re probably shopping again. Mum also has a tendency to let her phone die. Jen was to make sure that didn’t happen while we were gone.”

  Barb took another sip from her margarita, crossed her legs, and adjusted her sunglasses.

  “Did you call Jen? That girl would never let her phone go dead. It’s her lifeline.”

  “No. Not yet. I don’t want to be a total alarmist here. I’ll give Mum some time.” Chloe looked out over the beach from their perch at the outside bar in back of the resort.