by Tripp Ellis
I chuckled. This lifestyle was right up JD’s alley. Hell, it was right up anybody’s alley.
JD unhooked the power and water and we were close to casting off when Madison sauntered down the dock. “Alright. You can stay. On one condition.”
She caught me off guard. I didn’t expect her to back down. “Name it.”
“We’ve had a few break-ins around here. Nothing major. A few stereo systems boosted. Fishing rods. That kind of thing. If you’re living on the boat, just keep an eye out for people who don’t belong.”
“Easy enough.”
“And one more thing.”
“Anything.”
She thought about it for a moment. “We’ll talk more about it later.”
Madison spun around and marched back down the dock.
I wondered what I had gotten myself into.
“I’ll call Bobby and let him know there’s been a change of plans,” JD said.
We spent the rest of the evening sitting in the salon, watching the game, drinking rum. It was doing a moderate job of numbing the pain in my chest. By this time, the left side of my neck was black and blue and was visible above my T-shirt. The swelling was so bad it was compressing the nerves at the brachial plexus and I was getting tingling sensations in my fingertips. I alternated an ice pack 10 minutes on and 10 minutes off.
“Do you think you can score some antibiotics?”
“I can score anything. Need some Vicodin? I’ve got some around here from my knee surgery.”
He fumbled around and came up with a half-empty bottle of pills and tossed them to me. Hydrocodone. Do not consume alcohol or operate heavy machinery. I popped two and washed them down with a rum and cola.
My cell phone buzzed in my pocket. The only person that had this number was JD.
Unknown caller.
I cringed, but decided I better answer the call. I knew who it was. There was only one person it could be, unless it was a wrong number.
“So good to hear from you, Isabella. I thought we had said our goodbyes?”
“Well, no matter how hard I try to stay away, I’m always drawn back to you.”
“I’m flattered. How did you get this number?”
“I have my ways. Did you enjoy your flight?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Cut the crap. The only reason you’re not dead right now is because I’m keeping them at bay.”
“The only reason I’m not dead right now is because I’m smarter than you.”
“Are you trying to get on my bad side?”
“I thought I already was. I saw the little hit squad you sent for me. Amateurs.”
“Yes, well, I’ve had a change of heart.”
“Shocking. I didn’t know you had a heart.”
She ignored my gibe. “Cartwright has gone radio silent.”
“What does that tell you?” I said with an air of superiority.
“It tells me that maybe we both got played.”
“So you believe me when I say that I didn’t kill Ruiz.”
“You know I’m not that trusting. But I’m calling off the dogs right now until I can get something more concrete.”
“That’s mighty kind of you.”
“I want you to stay on Coconut Key until I get this sorted. I’ve got agents tracking Cartwright now.”
I grimaced at the fact that she knew where I was. “Cartwright’s good. You might not find him. But if you do, I want a piece of him.”
“I found you, didn’t I? Our client is willing to back off until more information comes to light.”
“Follow the money. It will lead to the truth. I know you have ways of finding untraceable bank accounts. Find Cartwright’s and look for any large deposits.”
“I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job. And if he turned on me, I hope he did it for a lot of money. And speaking of bank accounts… Your assets have been frozen. Sorry. Not my doing.”
My fist tightened, and I clenched my jaw. “Anything else?”
“Stay off the radar. No freelance work. No trouble. Stay in plain sight. Our client will get nervous if you become unavailable.” Isabella paused for a moment. “I can’t do anything about the cartels. So watch your back. Ruiz’s people will be coming for you.”
The line went dead.
I breathed a small sigh of relief. At least Cobra Company wasn’t coming for me, or Madison, yet. And I didn’t have to worry about the Feds for the moment.
I knew the drill. I was an asset that could become a liability. An operative gone rogue can create havoc for those who wish to keep secrets. My fate would depend upon what Isabella’s investigation turned up.
As much as I wanted to track down and kill Cartwright, it was best if Isabella found him and debriefed him. I needed her to come to the conclusion on her own that I didn’t kill Ruiz. Then she had to sell that fact to our client.
JD was curious, so I filled him in on the details of the conversation. For the next few weeks, I didn’t hear anything more from Isabella. No cartel hitmen showed up. Everything seemed reasonably calm. My wound had scabbed over and didn’t get infected. I learned the world’s worst thing for an injury was to let the surrounding muscles atrophy. I started with isometrics. After 10 days, I removed the stitches myself and began doing very light range of motion activities, gradually moving up to 2 pound weights. The movement kept the scar tissue from getting too nasty and increased blood flow, which meant faster healing. I did a lot of soft tissue massage, trying to break up the chunky scar, and I kept bumping up weights as tolerated.
As an operator, you learn to rehab injuries and keep your body conditioned. I was lucky the injury was mostly superficial.
It was the off-season, so JD didn’t have many charters. I wasn’t in any condition to really assist, so most of the time I’d stay behind at Diver Down and try not to annoy my sister. I’d watch the boats of the marina come and go and take walks on the beach, eat cheeseburgers, and drink piña coladas. It was like a strange vacation—the first time in my life I had experienced any real extended leisure time.
Once the stitches were out, I was usually up by 5am and out for a morning run, and apart from my rehab exercises, the rest of the day was generally lazy. In the evenings, JD would swing by and we’d share a beer or a cocktail, and quite often he persuaded me to venture out for some local nightlife.
JD may have been close to 50, but he had an uncanny ability to approach total strangers and become their best friend within minutes. He was the kind of guy that wherever he went he was the life of the party. Men liked him and women were intrigued by his charm. He was always buying rounds of shots, which may have added to his likability factor. But he had no shortage of women half his age wanting personal attention from him.
It didn’t take long for me to decide that I was done with the spy trade. I had been moving so fast for my entire life that I never really stopped and took a chance to live. All of my relationships had suffered. I wasn’t really sure what I was going to do with the rest of my life. Maybe I could stay here in the Keys forever?
The farther I got away from my near-death experience, the more I tried to write it off as a hallucination. The paranoid dreams of a traumatized mind. But I knew deep down inside it was as real as anything I had ever experienced. And I probably wouldn’t find much redemption being a lazy beach bum on Coconut Key Island.
But sometimes life is funny about giving you exactly what you need—whether you realize it or not. I may have been done with adventure, but adventure wasn’t done with me.
10
A bloodcurdling scream echoed across the water. It sounded like Madison. The shrill tone filtered in through the open hatch, startling me. My heart leapt into my throat. I had been sitting on the lounge watching a Netflix documentary on a man who was railroaded by the cops and convicted of a murder he didn’t commit.
I sprang from my seat, dashed across the cockpit, hopped over the transom, and sprinted down the dock. By
the time I reached the parking lot, a crowd had gathered around.
It wasn’t Madison who screamed. It was another young woman. She told me at first she thought a bird had shit on her. Fhen she realized it was something much worse. She stared with horrified eyes at a bloody eyeball that lay on the asphalt. It had dropped from the sky, bounced off her shoulder, then smacked the ground.
I glanced around and saw several birds swooping into the alley behind the bar by the dumpsters. When I rounded the corner, I saw a bird pecking at the body of a big burly man. As I drew closer, I recognized Jeremy.
The scavengers fluttered away, launching into the sky as I approached. Flies buzzed around the corpse. His skin had a greenish tinge to it, and his shirt was stained with blood. From what I could tell without a close examination, he had multiple stab wounds to the chest and neck.
I kept the crowd back, trying to preserve the crime scene until Sheriff Daniels arrived. Before long, camera flashes from the forensics team illuminated the alley as they chronicled and catalogued the scene. The medical examiner, Brenda Sparks, put the time of death within the last two hours. Sheriff Daniels interviewed the bar patrons as well as Madison and me. Since I discovered the body, I was the witness he spent the most time with.
Madison was pretty shaken up. She had burst into tears upon the sight of Jeremy’s body. She wasn’t used to seeing this kind of carnage.
“Was there anything going on between you two?” Sheriff Daniels asked Madison.
Her face twisted. “No. I mean, he asked me out a few times. I said no.”
“Why did you say no?”
“I don’t date customers.”
“How did he take the rejection?”
Madison shrugged.
“What does this have to do with anything?” I asked.
“Just trying to get a sense of your relationship. He was killed on your property after all.”
“He seemed disappointed, but not overly so,” Madison said. “He continued to be a customer. He was in just about every day.”
“And where were you when this happened?” the sheriff asked.
Madison’s brow crinkled. “You don’t think I had something to do with this, do you?”
“These are just routine questions.”
“Madison’s not going to answer any more questions without a lawyer,” I said.
“I don’t need a lawyer,” she protested. “I didn’t do anything. Jeremy was a friend. I want to do anything I can to help find the person who did this.”
“I thought you said he was a customer,” Sheriff Daniels said, almost accusingly.
“I didn’t think there was a law against being friends with your customers,” Madison said.
“Just so I can rule you out, where were you at the time of death?”
“Since I don’t know when the time of death was, I don’t think I can accurately answer that. But I’ve been inside that bar behind the counter trying to make sure my customers get served their food on time, and that their glasses are never empty. I’ve got an entire waitstaff that can verify my whereabouts.”
“Was there any time that you left the bar? Maybe to take the trash out?”
“No. I don’t take the trash out when I’m serving food. One of the busboys usually does that.”
“Who’s bussing today?”
“Pete Mitchell.”
Sheriff Daniels wrote the information down in a small pocket notebook. His suspicious eyes flicked to me. This blowhard was getting on my nerves. I had run into many local cops like this before. Guys who liked to throw their weight around every opportunity they could. “What about you? What’s your story?”
I knew better than to talk to the police. They could take anything you said and twist it out of context. Opening your mouth to law enforcement is just giving the prosecution ammunition. Most criminals would get away with their crimes if they would just shut the hell up. But criminals have a bad habit of thinking they’re smarter than everyone else. Newsflash, no one ever talked their way out of a crime, but they sure as hell talked their way into a conviction.
The last thing I needed in my current situation was the local sheriff on my ass. Even though I had grown up in Coconut Key, I was new to town. In Sheriff Daniels’s eyes, I was an outsider.
I wanted to appear cooperative. “I was on the boat when I heard a scream. I ran to the parking lot. Then I found the body in the alleyway. That’s all I know. And if you have any questions beyond that, I’d be happy to answer them in the presence of my attorney.”
“Only the guilty lawyer up,” the sheriff said with attitude.
I tried not to show my disdain for the man. Sheriff Daniels was the type of guy who would do anything to make himself look good. I wouldn’t put it past him to manufacture evidence, or ignore exculpatory facts.
“Which boat?” Daniels asked.
“The Slick’n Salty. I pointed toward the marina.”
“Jack Donovan’s boat?” He asked as he looked past my shoulder at the row of boats.”
I nodded.
“That’s a long way. I imagine it would be hard to hear a scream at that distance.”
“Voices carry over the water.”
“What exactly is it that brings you back to town?”
“The friendly locals,” I said, my voice thick with sarcasm.
11
I finally decided to take my own advice and shut the hell up. I had already said too much as it was. I understand why people talk. When a smug asshole gets in your face, you want to tell him his suspicions are wrong. Being accused of something you didn’t do is maddening. But cops see the world with different eyes. It comes with the job. There are two kinds of people in the world. Those who are on the job, and everybody else. And everybody else is a potential suspect.
Work in law enforcement for long enough and you will come to the conclusion that anyone is capable of anything, given the right circumstances. You tend to see the worst aspects of humanity. It’s like being a spy. Work in the trade for too long, and you’ll never trust anyone again.
When the sheriff figured he wasn’t going to get much more out of me, he moved on to interview other witnesses. He decided not to bring me down to the station for further questioning. He probably didn’t want the extra paperwork. He didn’t have enough grounds to arrest me, and truth be told, I don’t think he wanted to work that hard, anyway. He sure as hell hadn’t made any headway on my parents’ murders in the six years that the case had been sitting on his desk.
Madison and I were primary beneficiaries of my parents’ estate. That also made us suspects, even though it was clear we had nothing to do with their deaths. On more than one occasion, I had voiced my displeasure with Daniels’s line of questioning and his lack of action in regard to the case. It hadn’t put us on the best terms.
Madison closed Diver Down for the rest of the evening. she needed a little time to decompress. I called JD, and he came over as soon as he could. The three of us sat on the deck in Diver Down, drinking beer.
“I still can’t believe he’s dead,” Madison said, staring at her beer bottle, peeling the soggy label from the amber bottle as it sweat. “Who would do such a thing? Here of all places?”
“This island ain’t exactly what it used to be,” JD said.
“But we’ve never had a problem here,” Madison replied.
“Did Jeremy have any enemies?” I asked.
“Not that I know of. I mean, I didn’t know him that well. But he was in here just about every day.”
“His watch was stolen,” I said.
“How do you figure that?” Madison asked.
“Tan line on the wrist.”
“Maybe it was a robbery gone wrong?” JD said.
“Maybe,” I said. “Whoever did this didn’t want Jeremy talking to anyone about it afterward. That’s for certain. As soon as the carotid artery was severed, he was gone.”
“He was a big boy, too,” JD added.
“Not an obvious target for a m
ugging,” I said. “There are much easier targets around here.”
I asked Madison where Jeremy worked.
She said, “He sometimes works for Dan Baker aboard the Homewrecker. But it doesn’t seem steady.”
“Does he have a girlfriend?” I asked.
“I don’t think so. I mean, he asked me out.”
“Doesn’t mean anything,” I replied.
Madison’s eyes narrowed at me. “That’s cynical.”
“That’s life.”
“You can’t go through life thinking everybody’s going to fuck you over,” Madison said.
“It’s worked out well so far.”
“Really?” Madison asked, incredulous.
“I’m still alive.”
“But you’ve hurt a lot of people around you with that attitude.”
“What are you talking about?”
She huffed. “Total narcissist. Completely unaware how your actions affect other people.”
“Did I miss something here?” I asked.
“Does anyone need another beer?” JD asked, wanting to avoid the drama.
“Yeah,” I said.
JD scurried away.
“You want to tell me what you’re getting at?” I asked.
“Hannah really liked you,” Madison said.
I sighed. “You’re still mad about that?”
“Yes. She was my best friend.”
“I didn’t want her to get hurt. So, I—”
“Pushed her away.”
I grimaced. I couldn’t argue. “Maybe,” I sighed with resignation.
I was notorious for pushing people away who got too close. My lifestyle wasn’t conducive to settling down. And having ties made me vulnerable, not to mention it was dangerous for anyone who cared about me.
“Next time, maybe you should let other people decide how much of you they can take.”
JD returned with a few more beers. “Is it safe?”
