Eye for Eye

by J K Franko

  In the evening, they watched the sunset from the flybridge. The skies were clear, the wind had finally calmed, and the most recent information from NOAA put the Straits at two to three feet.

  Their plan called for Roy to leave Bimini by night.

  By day, jet ski activity around Bimini would be of little interest to anyone, and no one would be likely to remember what they saw or when. But a jet ski in the Straits was a different story. While it wasn’t unheard of, it was rare to cross from Miami to Bimini on jet ski. The few that made the crossing did so in groups and by day, usually with a support boat. A jet ski out alone in the Straits by day was likely to draw attention and possibly become the subject of radio traffic. They did not need that kind of attention.

  Hence, the night crossing. Since they didn’t have running lights, a jet ski in the Straits at night would be all but impossible to see. And no one would be crazy or stupid enough to cross the Straits on a jet ski at night. Which was why Roy planned to do just that.

  The biggest threat to making the crossing in the dark, aside from weather-driven waves, was other watercraft. Getting hit by or hitting a tanker was the biggest risk. Roy would keep a close eye out for other vessels, as they would have running lights. There was also the added risk of hitting virtually invisible obstacles—a floating log or a pallet of cocaine.

  After sunset, they had dinner down in the cabin: prosciutto, cheese, and crackers.

  “So,” asked Susie, “what do you think?”

  “I think we give it a try tonight. From the sounds of it, the weather tomorrow is likely to be the same, possibly better. I’d say we take a shot tonight and, if it’s too rough, abort and try again tomorrow, rather than wait until tomorrow and put all our eggs in one basket. That way, I can also get a feeling for how bad it really is. What do you think?”

  “Makes sense. You can always turn around and come back. But if tonight’s as good as it gets, and it’s doable, then you get it over with. Getting there is the critical part. Coming back isn’t such a big deal.”

  “Yeah, but I’d just really like to be with you on the boat when we head back. Just to be safe.”

  “Roy, I doubt that things will move that fast. It’ll take days for them to figure out he’s missing. More to figure out he’s dead. I don’t think that’s as big a risk as you think.”

  “I know. But it’s zero risk if we’re together, right?”

  “True. I agree, don’t get me wrong. I’m just saying, if you can’t get back, we can deal with that. But if you can’t get there to begin with, then the whole plan blows up... ”

  He nodded.

  After sunset, they went to the casino. They withdrew their daily limit of cash from the ATM and went to the low stakes blackjack table, where they played until almost midnight. Susie drank white wine and Roy had club sodas. Both made sure to make eye contact a couple of times with the security camera that sat up and to the right of them on the ceiling.

  At 11:45 p.m., they left the casino, returned to the boat, and went to bed.

  DAY FOUR

  Tuesday, May 1, 2018

  The alarm woke them at 2:00 a.m.

  Roy went up to the cabin, where the moonlight was sufficient for him to see what he was doing without having to turn on any of the lights in the boat. He slipped into his wetsuit and booties, and hung a pair of goggles around his neck.

  While he dressed, Susie kept watch from the flybridge until she was satisfied that all was quiet. Then, she went down and pulled the jet ski up by the swim platform and tied it close. From the crew cabin on the stern of the boat, she brought out the ditch bag and the extra ten-gallon tank of gas.

  The ditch bag contained a magnetic compass, an EPIRB, two quarts of water, a small mirror, a flare gun, sunscreen, a handheld VHF radio, an inflatable flotation device, a small oar with a telescoping handle, and a Miami-purchased burner phone.

  She was securing these to the jet ski when Roy came out. He was fully prepped. Roy affixed the GPS unit to the attachment he had rigged to the steering column of the jet ski. He would wait until he was out of the marina to turn it on.

  That was it.

  “Good luck, babe,” Susie said, kissing her husband on the lips and then wiping the Vaseline from her nose. Roy had generously covered his face with the stuff to protect it from the salt water.

  “See you tomorrow,” he said with a wink.

  He straddled the jet ski and Susie used the line to pull it along the side of the boat to the bow. There, Roy released the line to Susie and pushed off, out and away from the Sunseeker.

  He used the telescoping oar to paddle away from all of the nearby boats so as not to wake anyone when he started the engine. Once he was clear, he tapped the throttle to get it into forward gear, and quietly put-putted out of the marina and into the channel.

  The waters were relatively calm. Roy could feel the light breeze on his face. He hadn’t yet put the goggles over his eyes. He kept to the center of the channel; even though the water was deep enough all around him, he didn’t want to risk hitting a shallow patch of sand and sucking a bunch of crap up into the impeller. As he approached the end of the channel, he switched the GPS on. It booted up, and the screen map showed him his exact position.

  Roy rounded the point of the island, just past Alice Town, and turned west, where the wave height increased significantly. He was riding up and down swells of three to four feet. The water was very choppy, though he knew that was in part due to the water off the Straits crashing against the island and bouncing back. He hoped that, once he put some distance between himself and Bimini, the waves would decrease since large waves prevented him from opening up the jet ski. He was still chugging along at about ten knots. At this rate, it would take him five hours to get back to the house—he’d be arriving in daylight, which was not good.

  Though he could see relatively well by the moonlight, he couldn’t see well enough to really gun it because the waves all ran together in the dark. He needed to be able to see which way the waves were running so he could position his body on the jet ski depending on whether he was riding up or down the waves. The visibility just wasn’t good enough for that, and he wasn’t even wearing the goggles yet, which would get wet and further reduce his visual acuity.

  He checked the time and position on the GPS and decided to give it another thirty minutes to see if the conditions improved as he got farther away from land.

  * * *

  Susie was lying in the master stateroom. She couldn’t sleep. If everything went according to plan, Roy would arrive at the house between 4:00 a.m. and 5:00 a.m.

  After all the planning, it was hard for her to believe that the day had finally come. She touched her belly where a knot was forming and then turned and hugged a pillow, tuning in to the gentle rocking of the boat. It was calming. Peaceful.

  She had spent a lot of time on the water since marrying Roy. Before that, she’d only been on a boat once. That cruise ship, when she’d reconnected with Deb. That had been decades ago—it seemed like a lifetime had passed since then.

  At the end of that cruise, they had exchanged contact details, though Susie had been reluctant to stay in touch. While she’d felt a strong connection to Deb, she’d been somewhat fearful of her, as well, afraid of how she felt when she was with Deb.

  Susie admitted to me that she’d seen Deb, periodically, over the years. They spoke occasionally by phone, but most of the calls were inconsequential catching up, or planning a tryst. But two of the calls she told me about were significant. One took place shortly after Camilla’s death, with the second coming the day after.

  * * *

  As a child, when the phone rang in her house, to Susie it was like Christmas day. She had no idea who was calling when she picked up. Was it Nana, announcing an unexpected visit? Or one of her mom’s friends? Or one of her own friends calling to gossip about school or boys?

/>   That old-fashioned ringing of a telephone, the kind that was connected by a wire to a wall, was an announcement of something new and amazing, full of opportunity and hope.

  Then came answering machines that allowed you to screen calls before or instead of answering. Screening took away all the surprise. Susie loved taking the chance and just picking up, risking that it might be someone you didn’t want to talk to—and being thrilled if it was someone you did.

  She described answering machines as condoms for telephones. Safe, but uncomfortable.

  Then came Caller ID. No need to answer a call without knowing who was on the line—or at least what phone number they were calling from—ever again. Why in God’s name would you answer a phone call from someone you don’t know? Would you have sex with a total stranger? Would you?

  Susie thinks technology has taken all the mystery and excitement out of receiving a phone call. It’s conditioned us all into feeling that we are entitled to know who is calling, especially when that one word appears on screen.

  UNKNOWN.

  Susie finds UNKNOWN annoying and exciting. Irritating, yet nostalgically sexy.

  UNKNOWN returned some of that long-forgotten mystique to receiving telephone calls.

  Who could it be?

  Telemarketing?

  Alumni fundraising?

  The FBI?

  This particular call Susie told me about was from UNKNOWN, and she answered on the third ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi there, honey,” said a female voice in that unmistakable Texas drawl.

  “Deb?” Susie looked around the kitchen. Luckily, she was home alone. Consuelo was upstairs somewhere, vacuuming. And yet, she still felt the compulsion to check, to make sure she wasn’t within earshot of anyone.

  “The one and only,” Deb said.

  “Oh, Deb... ” Susie struggled not to cry, so many emotions welled up inside her all at once.

  “Honey. I am sooo sorry about Camilla. I just found out. It’s horrible. Just horrible. Are you holding up alright? You be tough, girl. You need to be.” Deb paused, but Susie knew her and knew there was more coming. “And you listen to me. It will pass. I know it may seem like the end of the world, but you’re tough. You always have been. How about Roy? Is he holding up? Is he helping you through it?”

  Susie breathed out slowly, attempting to control her emotions. “You know how Roy is. He’s all analysis. It’s all in his head. He’s doing what he can. He’s trying. He’s in a funk... obviously. But he’s been a trooper. He organized the service—I just couldn’t. I’m only just now getting back to some semblance of a… ” The rest of the words drowned in her throat and she began to cry.

  “Oh, honey. Now, you go ahead. Get all that out of you. Oh, girl. I wish I could be there to hold you.” Deb paused. She could hear Susie crying and she gave her a few moments, and then she offered, “You have to take consolation where you can, sweetie. She went fast? No pain. Is that true?”

  “Um,” Susie sniffed, trying to get a hold of herself. “Yes. I think so. They said it was instant… ” another sob snatched the rest of the word away from her and she took a few more seconds before garbling. “Um, that, that’s what they told us anyway. We... it had to be a closed coffin... because—” Her throat closed, and the tears came once more.

  “Well, there you are. We all gotta go sometime. Honey, we’re all dying, from the day we’re born. And ‘we know not the day nor the hour...’”

  Susie laughed through the tears. “When the fuck did you get Jesus?”

  Deb laughed, and responded in her preacher voice. Susie could imagine the Holy Roller expression on Deb’s face as she said, “Now, Susie, at these times, we must all seek consolation in the Lord.”

  “Praise be!” she replied with a sniff and a chuckle. There was a long pause before Susie spoke again. “It’s good to hear your voice, Deb.”

  “Oh, yours too, hun. So, tell me, are you being smart about all this? Keeping it together?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Well, that’s what I’m scared of. That’s why I’m calling. Who knows you best, hun, who knows you best?”

  “Deb does.” Susie smiled.

  “And who knows what you need?”

  Susie was about to laugh but instead her face saddened. “You know what I really need, Deb? What I really need?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Why do you think I’m calling you, girlfriend? I know my girl. I read in the news that the boy’s in critical condition. Is that right?”

  Susie nodded as if her friend could see her. “A coma. Drug-induced. Who knows what’ll happen?” Her face darkened. “I know what I want to happen,” she said through gritted teeth. “Fuck, if I could get my hands on him, I’d—”

  “Easy there, girl. You’re way too close to it all to be thinking that kind of shit. Be smart. Even if you did everything perfect, they’d go straight from his hospital room to your front door with a warrant.”

  “I don’t give a fuck!”

  “Sure you do. You’ve just gotta let nature take its course.”

  “Bullshit! What about Camilla? What about my baby girl? Fuck nature! I think we should be the ones to do it.”

  “Get real, babe. You’re not thinking straight. You need to get focused. What kind of life will you have in Leavenworth? Or whatever it is in Florida.” Deb took a beat, then asked, “Susie, when you said ‘we should be the ones to do it,’ who exactly did you mean?”

  Deb waited for a reply, but none came. She pressed, “Susie, did you talk to Roy about... this... about what you want to happen?”

  Susie took a deep breath, before answering defiantly, “Maybe—a little.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, girl, you have lost your mind! You need to get that shit outta your head, right now. You hear me? I told you. You’re way too close to this. You, for sure. You and Roy, worse. Honey, Roy is a lot of things, but a killer, he ain’t.”

  “He’s actually thinking about it.”

  Deb fell silent. She wasn’t expecting that answer. “What, he told you this?”

  “No... not exactly... not yet. But I know him. I can tell. I’ve been riding his ass, blaming him. I know it’s unfair, but I can’t help it.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Nothing specific.”

  “Susie, this kind of thing, this isn’t like playing bridge, honey. You can’t hint. You can’t insinuate. You don’t go leaving murder magazines open on the coffee table. You gotta be specific.” Deb’s voice went up an octave. “But, I tell you what. It’d be the stupidest thing you could do. Both of you. ‘Cause like I said, even if you pull off a perfect murder, there’ll be a ‘knock knock’ on your front door in twenty-four hours max, I guarantee. And how well do you think old Roy’ll hold up under questioning?”

  They both paused, considering.

  “Look, honey,” Deb continued, “I get that you want to go all Ezekiel 25:17 on this kid. But these kinds of things, they got to be done with a cool head. You know that. No emotion. And, honey, that ain’t you right now.”

  “It could be.”

  Deb waited for a long time, waiting to see if Susie would fill the empty space, but she didn’t. “Look, hun, this payphone smells like vagrant piss. I gotta go. But you just need to leave this whole thing to Deb. I’ll take care of everything. You make peace with your husband. And be kind to yourself. Remember, every day is precious, honey.”

  Susie remained silent as she attempted to swallow a new wave of tears.

  “I tell you what, Susie. Honey, you sleep on it. I’ll call you tomorrow, ‘same bat-time, same bat-channel.’ And you tell me then that you’re gonna to do the smart thing. Okay?”

  Susie bit her lip. “Okay,” she said, reluctantly.

  “But if you talk to Roy about this—and I don’t recommend it, but I know y
ou, right? Who knows you if Deb don’t? If you talk to Roy about this, you gotta be di-rect. You gotta tell him that the plan is to go Old Testament ‘eye for an eye’ on this fucking kid. You gotta be up-front. No hinting, no suggesting. Draw him a picture and color it in, okay? You got it?”

  Susie chuckled.

  “Got it?”

  “Yeah, Deb. I got it.”

  “M-kay. I’ll call you tomorrow. And don’t do nothing stupid between now and then, you promise?”

  Susie nodded again. “I promise,” she said. “Thanks, Deb.”

  “Shit... I love you, babe. But then you already know that.”

  Susie hesitated, then said, quickly, “I love you, too!” But Deb had already hung up.

  That evening, Susie had a conversation with Roy, which I shared with you earlier. I’m speaking, of course, of the one in the study—where Susie drank scotch and proposed killing Bareto.

  The following morning, as promised, Deb called back.

  * * *

  Susie was just dozing off when she felt a thunk against the hull of the boat.

  She sprang out of bed and headed up the stairs. As she approached the top, she heard a tapping against the door to the cabin, metal against glass, and saw Roy standing outside, barely lit by the moonlight.

  She hastily unlocked the door.

  As he toweled off, he said, “Too rough out there. Plenty of light. The moon’s great. You can see. But there’s not enough visibility to know what’s behind the next wave. Very slow going. If I’d kept up, I wouldn’t have gotten there until after seven, at least. Way too risky.”

  Susie hid her disappointment. “No worries. We’ll try again tomorrow,” she said with a smile. “Right now, you need to get out of that stuff, get dry, and get some rest.”

  Roy was already stripping down, his wetsuit hanging around his waist, as he toweled his hair and chest.