Stolen Child (Coastal Fury Book 13)

by Matt Lincoln

  “No, which is why we’re working together,” Forrester said, his tone more measured than I would’ve been able to manage. Judging by Holm’s nondescript grumbles across from me, he had a few choice words of his own that he was avoiding voicing, to his credit.

  “Then why do we have to work together at all?” Smith asked as if explaining something very simple to a small child. “It’s just pageantry. We don’t want to be seen as taking a smaller agency’s case, so we’re throwing them a bone. But then we all get shafted since they’re slowing us down.”

  At this point, I thought it was high time that I stood up for myself and my agency, though I was sure I wouldn’t be quite as vulgar about it as Holm. At least I hoped I wouldn’t be.

  “Come on, you can’t be serious,” I shot back, piercing my gaze on the lot of them. “Most of us are former naval intelligence officers. Muñoz was a pilot. Holm and I were SEALS. And we may not have the big shiny cases or the public reputation that you do, but we do good, solid work here at MBLIS. And we found the Hollands where you failed to God knows how many times.”

  “Hey, you all dropped the ball, too,” Dobbs pointed out. “They were in your territory just as much as they were in ours. But your point’s taken.”

  “You really think there’s anything you guys can do that we can’t?” Smith said, scowling right at me. “Not a chance. We’d run circles around you in this case if Interpol let us work it.”

  “I’d like to see you try,” Birn chuckled. “We both need each other here. That’s why we’re working together. Besides, why would MBLIS exist if some other agency could do our jobs? It wouldn’t make any sense.”

  “If you’re expecting the government to make sense, I’ve got some bad news for you, buddy,” Smith pointed out, and most times, I would say it was hard to argue with that point.

  “Look, what makes you think you can do our jobs?” I asked, sidestepping his point and going back to a previous one.

  “Why couldn’t I?” he asked with a shrug. “I was in the Marines. I’ve got all the skills you have, plus my FBI training. And all the resources of the FBI.”

  “You have all the resources of the FBI?” Muñoz asked, arching a skeptical eyebrow at him, a satisfying lopsided smirk of her own etched across the right side of her face.

  Smith blinked and just glowered at her before doubling down on one of his other points.

  “You know what I mean,” he said with a small laugh that I guess was meant to taunt her more but just made her raise her eyebrows even higher. “Anyway, I asked you first. What can you do that we can’t?”

  “Uh, we know all about the sea,” Muñoz said, in a tone that said this should be obvious. “And who sails it, and why, and what benefit they get from it. We know all about the criminal politics on the water, and on the islands, and alongside the shore. We’ve built relationships in these communities, and we have knowledge that goes a long way when we get there. You’re just a bureaucrat in a suit with an attitude problem.”

  Alright, maybe we should’ve shut Muñoz up along with Holm. But that was fun to watch. As she spoke, Smith’s face fell until he looked just as sullen as Hunt, and there was a long period of silence after that in which we could’ve heard a pin drop.

  I gave Muñoz an approving look, though I didn’t love that she’d insulted Smith, most likely escalating tensions between our two groups even further. That said, he’d asked for it. There was no denying that. It was satisfying to watch.

  “I think that settles matters,” Corey said at long last, nodding slowly. “We all need each other. Each of us has something of value to add. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here, and we’d all do well to try to work together better.”

  Holm grumbled something about him not needing to work together better, and Smith being the cause of all this, and then something else about coffee, but I couldn’t make much of it out. This was probably for the best, since if I couldn’t hear him properly, no one else could, either.

  “That’s right,” I told Corey with a grateful nod, after giving Holm the side-eye in a warning. “We need each other. We need your resources and knowledge of international affairs and agencies, and you need our expertise and knowledge of the case itself. I get that things are getting pretty claustrophobic around here—and I know we’re all feeling it, so don’t try to convince me otherwise…”

  Everyone nodded and mumbled in agreement.

  “Well, there’s something we can agree on, at least,” Forrester chuckled, and we all laughed.

  “Right, so we just have to get through this thing,” I continued. “It’s going to be close quarters for a while, and I know none of us are happy about all this mess with Interpol and Scotland. We all want to be headed out there as we speak. But that’s not happening, so as Diane said, we just need to sit tight and see this thing through. If we work together, we’re more likely to break this thing.”

  “If we ever even get the chance to work it,” Holm grumbled. “Interpol could solve the case on their own, for all we know.”

  My stomach dropped a bit at this suggestion. I didn’t like that thought at all, and I hadn’t really considered it before. It just seemed like a foregone conclusion to me that after going through all this trouble with the Hollands, Holm and I would be there when push came to shove and we finally caught the couple.

  That might not be the case anymore, though. We were in a whole different ballgame now.

  “Come now, that’s no way to talk,” Birn said brightly, standing up and grinning at us all. “This is just a bump in the road and not a bad one at that. We have a real lead! Let’s enjoy that, even if we’re not the ones following up on it just yet. In the meantime, I have to get the hell out of this place for a little while, or I’ll lose my mind. Anyone up for a late breakfast?”

  5

  Ethan

  Holm, myself, and Muñoz all ended up joining Birn for that breakfast, leaving the FBI agents alone in the office with Diane.

  “Do we really want to leave them alone in there?” Holm grumbled for about the tenth time as Birn pulled us into a seedy diner parking lot.

  “Oh, will you stop it already,” Muñoz groaned from the front seat. “Just chill out. It’s fine. What do you think they’re going to do, burn the place down? Stage a hostile takeover of our office? Give me a break. Honestly, Holm, even for you.”

  That shut him up, and I chuckled and shook my head as we climbed out of the backseat and followed Birn and Muñoz into the diner.

  I’d had a quick bowl of instant oatmeal before going into work, but with my tiresome schedule lately and the lack of flavor and heartiness that accompanied that meal, I was looking forward to getting a real sit down for once, as well as being away from the FBI agents and getting to steal a moment with just my MBLIS colleagues.

  I’d never been to this particular diner before. It was an unassuming place, tucked away on the outskirts of town, away from all the major tourist spots. If I were honest, it looked pretty dingy to me, but my already-grumbling stomach and I kept an open mind.

  “What is this place?” Holm asked as Birn and Muñoz climbed into a booth next to a long window facing the parking lot. My partner and I sat down opposite them.

  “We come here all the time,” Birn said, gesturing between himself and Muñoz. “My cousin Buddy owns the place.”

  “Really?” I asked, intrigued. I hadn’t heard Birn mention a cousin before who was here in town.

  “It’s the best-kept secret in Miami!” Birn beamed, gazing down at the laminated menu in front of him. “You should feel lucky we decided to share it with you. But I figured we all needed a pick-me-up after the morning we’ve had.”

  “Morning,” Muñoz scoffed, peering down at her own menu. “It’s only 8:30.”

  “Ugh, don’t remind me,” Holm groaned, dropping his head into his hands.

  I turned my attention to my menu. It was one sheet, front and back, and it looked to offer a staple of regular diner favorites. It didn’t look like anything s
pecial to me, but the more I looked at it, the more my stomach grumbled, and I was having trouble deciding what to get because I wanted everything.

  Thankfully, a tall, jovial-looking man with a potbelly sporting a dirty white apron came out of the back kitchen and made a beeline right for our table to rescue me from my indecision.

  “Lamarr, Sylvia, you didn’t tell me you were gonna make it in today!” the man bellowed, clapping Birn on the shoulder and beaming at him. “And you brought friends!” His voice was warm, and it carried.

  “This is my cousin, Buddy,” Birn said, grinning just as broadly as the other man as he reached up with his long arm and clapped him on the back while remaining seated. “Buddy, these are Ethan and Robbie. They’re MBLIS agents, too.”

  “Taking a break from the old grind, I see,” Buddy said, nodding approvingly to Holm and me and shooting us a wink. “Well, I’m all for it. What can I get ya?”

  Everyone was looking at me since I was in the end seat.

  “Uh, I’m having trouble deciding,” I said, clearing my throat. “Why don’t you bring me whatever you recommend?”

  “Oh, you won’t regret that,” Buddy assured me with a jovial laugh to match his demeanor. I handed over my menu.

  “I’ll have the chocolate chip pancakes,” Holm said predictably, as he always had a sweet tooth that needed abating.

  “I’ll have my usual,” Muñoz said.

  “Me, too,” Birn offered, and I wondered how often they came in here.

  “We’re in a few times a week, at least,” Muñoz said, reading my mind as Buddy meandered back to the kitchen, making small talk with the other customers as he went, shaking hands and patting shoulders every which way.

  “He seems happy,” I remarked, watching him.

  “He’s the happiest guy I know,” Birn confirmed with a nod and a laugh. “I know you wouldn’t understand it, Marston, but some people love the simple life. I have half a mind to retire and join the business with him.”

  “Oh?” I asked, arching an eyebrow at him. This was the first I’d heard of this.

  “Well, you know, getting abducted and held prisoner by a bunch of drug dealers on a remote island makes you do some thinking,” he chuckled, though there was a somberness in his eyes that told me he was serious.

  “I would imagine so,” I said thoughtfully, glancing back at Buddy as he engaged in a lively conversation with one of his waitresses.

  “Just don’t go running out on us yet,” Holm said, serious as well. “We need everyone we can get right now, and I don’t want to be even more outnumbered by those FBI guys.”

  “Come now, enough complaining,” I said, shooting him a look. “All it feels like we do lately is complain.”

  “With good reason,” Holm argued.

  “Fair enough,” I relented with a shrug.

  “Don’t worry, old friend, I’m not even close to finished yet,” Birn said, an excited glint in his eye as he leaned forward on the table, crossing his arms there. “Speaking of which, what do we all think about this whole Scotland business? Pretty cool, huh?”

  “Which part? The one where Interpol’s stealing our case, or the one where they didn’t even bother to tell us until at least a week after the fact?” Muñoz asked coolly.

  “Come on. I thought I said no complaining!” I cried as the waitress that Buddy had been talking to rushed over to dole out coffee. Birn nodded to her in thanks.

  I wasn’t sure I needed any more caffeine after the stressful morning I’d already had in this still young day, but judging by the fatigue I’d been experiencing lately, I figured that I would be a fool not to accept it. So I began sipping on my cup, vowing to nurse it slowly enough that my blood pressure wouldn’t spike too much higher than it had already.

  “Okay, okay,” Muñoz said, holding up her hands in defeat. “No more, I promise.”

  “Thank you,” I said definitively, nodding to her.

  “Now, what about Scotland?” Birn asked, just as eagerly as before. “The good parts, I mean. The parts where we have a good lead, and we might actually be close to breaking this thing.”

  Holm opened his mouth as if to comment on the fact that we might not actually be the ones to break it, but he shut it again with one sharp look from me.

  I was frankly done with all the bitterness after this morning. We’d been simmering in it for weeks now, all of us: FBI, MBLIS, Diane herself, it didn’t matter. We didn’t need any more negativity. It had lost its usefulness ages ago, and I was honestly glad that we’d finally had it out with the FBI agents, in a way. Now we could at least try to get to work putting it all behind us and focus on the task at hand. Or tasks. There were many of them. More than I could even count, probably.

  “I think it’s exciting!” Muñoz said, setting aside her coffee and leaning forward on the table just like Birn. “I mean, think about it. We could actually have a case in Europe soon. That’d really be something.”

  “Ever been?” I asked her.

  “Yeah, I was stationed in Germany for a while in the military,” she said thoughtfully. “Haven’t been to Scotland, though. That would be fun. I love their accents.”

  “Weird thought, people like the Hollands camping out in a tiny Scottish fishing town,” I chuckled with a nod. “I can’t think of many other places I’d expect them to end up less.”

  I tried to imagine the leathery-skinned Hollands with their puffy cheeks and spray tans trying to blend in with the local crowd, and the whole thing just seemed even more ridiculous.

  “Maybe that’s why they’re there,” Birn suggested with a shrug, taking another sip from his coffee cup. “It’s the last place they think we’ll look for them or that they’ll be noticed.”

  “They’d stick out like a sore thumb, though,” Muñoz said, resting her chin in her hand, her elbow propped up on the table. “They had to have known that someone would notice them, recognize them from the reports.”

  “I don’t know. They seem to have gotten unlucky to me,” Holm reasoned, setting his own coffee back on the coaster. “I mean, how many news reports about them even reach all the way out there? Diane said it was a small town and that the fisherman guy doesn’t even own a TV. He saw the report in a bar of all places. Maybe he’s not that much of a crackpot, and that’s just the culture there. Everyone could be pretty disconnected from the rest of the world, in a remote place with an older population.”

  “True, and they could be sticking to a remote location even within a remote location,” Birn added with a nod. “For all we know, they never leave wherever they’re staying except to go out on the water. And they probably own where they’re staying, knowing them. They don’t have to deal with neighbors or landlords or hotel owners or anything like that. I bet the water’s pretty calm, too. The fisherman could be the only person who even had a chance of noticing them.”

  I had to admit that this all did make sense, but it didn’t quite sit right with me.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “They’ll have to have food or something brought to them, at the very least. They don’t seem like the types to live off the land. And if they were just trying to lie low, why go out on the water at all? There’s no reason to risk it. There are other places they could’ve gone to escape detection more effectively.”

  “I’m still with Marston,” Muñoz said, nodding to me. “What you say makes sense, but it doesn’t quite add up. The fisherman said that they’re out there looking for something. What is it, then? There has to be a reason they’re there other than just hiding out now that we know about them.”

  Just then, Buddy and the waitress returned bearing plates galore. What felt like a hundred different gloriously greasy smells wafted my way, and my stomach grumbled so hard that I was afraid the others could hear it. They must not have, though, since Holm didn’t bother to tease me about it.

  Buddy deposited three plates in front of me.

  “I recommend everything, so I brought you a sampling of some of my favorite d
ishes,” he explained, beaming down at me. “Make sure to let me know what you think. Enjoy your meals, folks. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

  He winked at me as he sped off, leaving me to try to decide what to sample first: the steaming hot buttermilk pancakes, the cheesy scrambled eggs tossed with healthy (or delightfully unhealthy) gobs of sausage and bacon, or the biscuits slathered in gravy.

  “You got the works, Marston!” Birn exclaimed, looking longingly at my plates, which paled in comparison to his lone, though hefty, omelet dripping with what looked to be several kinds of cheese. “You guys are going to be crashing this place forever now. I made a mistake showing it to you.”

  He didn’t look too perturbed by this thought, however, digging right into his own meal.

  I could practically hear Holm licking his chops as he descended on his own plate, a stack of pancakes that stretched about a mile high, all drowning in chocolate. Muñoz, not to be left out, had two pieces of fat french toast next to a couple of runny fried eggs and sausage links.

  I had a feeling we were all going to be crashing hard into a food coma in not too long and took a hefty gulp from my coffee mug. I would need that caffeine, after all. My blood pressure was already going to spike anyway with all this food.

  It was worth it, though. It turns out that Birn wasn’t lying or biased when he called his cousin’s diner the best in the city. It really was, and I wasn’t more than a few bites into each of my samplings when I decided there was no way Holm and I weren’t coming back at least as much as Birn and Muñoz.

  We ate in silence for quite some time, enough for the waitress to come back to check on us and refill our coffee mugs. The food was just too good to waste time talking instead of eating.

  “What about the Hollands, though?” Holm managed when he was about halfway through his plate, the human vacuum cleaner that he was. “What do we think they’re looking for out there?”