Wild Venom: A Coastal Caribbean Adventure (Tyson Wild Thriller Book 31)

by Tripp Ellis

  My phone buzzed my pocket along the way. I snatched it and looked at the screen. Nolan’s name was displayed.

  I swiped an anxious thumb across the device and put the phone to my ear. “Did you hear from the kidnappers?”

  14

  "No, but somehow the press got hold of it, and the story is all over the news," Nolan said through a tight jaw.

  I cringed.

  "How did this information become public?"

  "I'm not quite sure. Anybody close to the case could have leaked the information."

  "This could pose a direct threat to Eva’s life!"

  "As I mentioned before, if they kill her, they won't get the money. Try to remain calm."

  “I am calm!" he shouted. After a moment, he said, "I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated at the moment."

  "I understand."

  "Are you making any progress?"

  "We’re on our way to speak with Evan now."

  "Let me know if you discover anything relevant. Keep up the good work.”

  "Absolutely." I ended the call, and we cruised to the ritzy neighborhood of the Platinum Dunes. Like Stingray Bay, it was an upscale neighborhood filled with McMansions and luxury cars. There was a bit of a rivalry between the two communities, each claiming more exclusivity. The Stingray Bay people looked down on the Platinum Dunes people and vice versa. If you lived in either neighborhood, you were doing pretty well.

  We found Evan’s place, parked at the curb, and strolled the walkway to the front door. I rang the video doorbell and pulled my badge from my pocket.

  A woman's voice filtered through the speaker. "Can I help you?"

  I displayed my badge to the camera. "I'm Deputy Wild with Coconut County. We'd like to speak with Evan."

  She stammered, "Sure. Is there some kind of problem?"

  "No problem. Just routine questions.”

  "Hang on a minute," she said before disconnecting. The speaker crackled.

  A moment later, Evan pulled open the door. He stood about 5’10”, wore a T-shirt and jeans, and had a boyish face, even though he was in his mid-30s. He had mid-length sable brown hair and brown eyes. He had a slightly nerdy quality about him. He was trim and not muscular. He didn't look like the kind of guy that could manhandle anybody.

  "What can I do for you, gentlemen?" he asked with a cautious smile.

  "We’d like to talk to you about your relationship with the Ortons."

  "I think it's pretty clear I don't have a relationship with them."

  "You owe them a great deal of restitution, don't you?"

  "According to our settlement. But the terms are not supposed to be disclosed."

  "Care to tell us where you were yesterday afternoon around 3 PM?"

  His eyes narrowed at me. "Are you asking because of Eva's disappearance?"

  "What do you know about it?"

  "Only what I just saw on the news. Such a terrible thing. As much as I don't like Nolan, I hate to see anybody suffer. As a family man myself, it’s deeply disturbing. And to think she was kidnapped from her home." He muttered aside. “Between you and me, that neighborhood’s really gone downhill.”

  We stared at him blankly, giving him an opportunity to continue.

  There was an awkward moment.

  "To answer your question, I was here yesterday with my wife and kids. You can verify it with my wife if you desire.”

  "Why was your phone off the grid?"

  He lifted a concerned eyebrow. "You’re tracking my phone? So, I’m a person of interest?"

  "Recently terminated, accused of embezzlement, you owe a substantial amount of money... I'd say, yeah, that makes you a person of interest.”

  A scornful chuckle burst from him. "This is just great. First of all, I didn't embezzle any funds," he said in air quotes. “It was a simple clerical error."

  "And the funds just happened to get transferred to your personal account."

  He glared at me.

  "I'm not discussing this with you.”

  "I'm not concerned with the embezzlement at the moment. I'm just trying to find Eva."

  "You're not going to find her here. He called over his shoulder, shouting down the foyer. "Honey, can you come here for a moment?"

  His wife appeared in the foyer an instant later with a concerned look on her face. She was an attractive woman in her early 30s with shoulder-length wavy auburn hair. She wore a floral patterned sundress.

  "Is everything okay?”

  "Can you tell these gentlemen where I was yesterday?"

  "Here with us. Why?"

  Evan smiled at us. "See. I couldn't possibly have kidnapped Eva.”

  His wife's face tightened. "Evan, don't say any more to these people."

  "You heard the little lady. If you have any additional questions, talk to my attorney." Evan closed the door, and that was the end of our conversation.

  15

  “I’m getting the impression that not a lot of people like Nolan,” JD said.

  “Envy breeds contempt,” I said.

  We strolled the walkway to the Porsche, hopped in, and cruised across town to the warehouse district. JD had band practice.

  The usual group of miscreants loitered around the entrance to the practice studio, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. They were always out there. Pasty-faced rocker types with long jet black hair, black eyeliner, black fingernail polish, skinny jeans, and canvas hightops. I don't think these kids had jobs, but yet they always had money for beer and cigarettes.

  A couple of the kids high-fived JD as we passed. As the lead singer for Wild Fury, JD was quickly amassing a legion of fans.

  We ambled down the dim hallway that reeked of weed and spilled beer. We pushed into the practice space as the guys were tuning up. The band was gearing up for one last end of summer bash. The college kids would pack up and leave the island, heading back to school. There would typically be a little lull in tourist activity until the winter months when people fled the cold climate for the warm sunshine of the tropical paradise.

  Styxx sat behind his candy-apple red drum set, and Dizzy noodled on guitar. His fingers scorched the fretboard. Crash sulked by his bass amp, his raven hair dangling in his face.

  JD looked at his watch. "Let's get the show on the road. We’re in the middle of a case."

  I took a seat on the couch next to a couple of delightful groupies. I kept an eye on my phone in case a call from Nolan came through. I had to admit, I was starting to grow concerned with the delay. I knew the kidnappers wouldn't want to hold on to Eva any longer than they had to. They’d want to get their hands on the money as soon as possible. The longer you held a hostage, the more that could go wrong.

  Yet here we were in the afternoon, 24 hours since the time of Eva’s disappearance, and no ransom demand had been made.

  Styxx handed JD a piece of paper with the setlist written in black sharpie. It was big enough that you could put it on the floor and still read it. "I was thinking we should play those songs for the blowout if that's okay with you?”

  JD perused the list. "Fine by me."

  Styxx clicked off the beat, and Dizzy and Crash thundered in on cue. A wall of sound filled the tiny practice space. JD grabbed the microphone and howled blistering rock vocals.

  The groupies screamed and cheered.

  As usual, curious onlookers filtered into the practice space to get a free show. The miscreants from outside popped in and out.

  The small crowd always seemed to galvanize the band. What would start as a perfunctory practice would turn into a full-on performance. But today was different. Crash just went through the motions. He stood still, playing his bass guitar with his head hung low. He hardly moved around, and he didn't look like he was having fun. It brought the entire energy down.

  The would-be crowd could feel it too. They clapped and cheered, but the magic was missing. It was obvious to see.

  As the band's manager, it was my job to get to the bottom of it and fix the scenario. Though, I knew wh
at the problem was without asking.

  16

  I pulled Crash aside after practice. We stepped into the hallway and walked away from the studio. The dull rumble of another band playing spilled into the corridor.

  "What's going on with you?"

  "Nothing."

  "This have something to do with a particular girl?"

  Crash looked up at me, peering through his jet black hair. His puffy eyes brimmed, then the dam broke. A river of tears spilled over, rolling down his cheeks. He tried to hold himself together, and he choked out the words, trying not to sob, “Faye broke up with me, man."

  I frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that.”

  Crash wiped the tears away with the back of his hand, but they kept coming.

  People had spilled out of the practice room and were loitering in the hallway now. A few of them looked in our direction, and Crash pulled himself together and stopped crying, clearly embarrassed by his display of emotion.

  “It’s gonna be okay.”

  Crash sniffled, still trying to hold it in but not doing a very good job.

  "You gotta let it out. It’s no good to hold it in. Give yourself a day to mourn the loss, then suck it up."

  He nodded. "I know. It's just hard, man. I love her. I'm never gonna find anybody like that again. We just had that spark. It's all because of that tour. If they weren’t on the road, none of this would have happened."

  "Hazards of the job, my friend."

  He took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled. "What am I going to do, man?"

  I tried to encourage him. "Have you been paying attention? Have you been to one of our shows? Trust me, you've got plenty of options."

  "Yeah, but nobody's ever going to be Faye."

  "You're right. The next person will be better for you."

  He didn't really want to hear anything I had to say. And none of it would make a difference anyway.

  He grabbed his T-shirt collar, pulled it up, and used it to blot his eyes dry. He took another deep breath, then composed himself. Then he flexed and growled, trying to muscle through the pain. "I'm good. I swear. I'm done. That's the last time I cry. I promise."

  I flashed an encouraging smile and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay. Do the rest of the guys know?"

  Crash shook his head. "They’ll just dog on me when they find out and tell me how stupid I was for falling for her."

  "Who cares what anybody else thinks?”

  He took a moment. “You're right. It happens. We all get dumped. You get dumped, right?”

  I chuckled. “I’ve had my share of heartbreak. No shame."

  He took another deep breath, then whistled. “Whew! Okay, I'm good. I swear."

  He was barely hanging on.

  The rest of the guys spilled into the hallway, and JD locked up the practice space.

  "Come on," he shouted. "We’re going to Tide Pool."

  17

  It's a rare day when JD passes up good whiskey, but with the current situation, we both wanted to stay clear-headed. That didn't keep him from buying rounds of drinks for the band, several groupies, and any other attractive females that gravitated toward the unnatural phenomenon that was Wild Fury.

  We hung out by the outdoor pool as the sun plunged toward the horizon. There were plenty of toned bodies and taut fabric. Supple curves doused in oil, beading water. There were a lot of bars on the strip, but it was hard to beat the visual delights Tide Pool offered on a regular basis.

  Harper kept the drinks flowing at the Tiki hut, and she had a heavy hand. I don't know how she took care of the tourists, but she never gave us watered-down drinks.

  Crash took a seat at a table by the pool underneath the umbrella. He slumped in his chair and sipped a glass of whiskey. I was there if he wanted to talk about it, but if he didn't, I wasn't going to pester him anymore. I figured he’d pull out of it sooner or later. The adrenaline of being on stage would surely kick him into gear.

  Faye’s band, Lip Bomb, was touring the country, opening for various national acts, sometimes playing sold-out stadiums. It was their biggest exposure to date. They had to take the opportunity. Faye and Crash had gone through ups and downs, and it was no surprise that the rigors of the road would cause turmoil between them.

  Sadie and I spared ourselves the complication and ended things before she left. We were still on good terms and talked occasionally.

  I hung out, nursing a diet soda, waiting for an update on the situation. Nolan called a little after 9 o'clock. "I just heard from the kidnappers."

  "And?"

  "They say if I send $100 million to a Bitcoin wallet within the next 12 hours, they will release Eva unharmed."

  The exorbitant demand was pocket change for Nolan. "I assume you can get your hands on that kind of money?"

  "Easily."

  "Did you get proof of life?"

  "I asked again, but they have not replied."

  "Did the message come from the same number as before?"

  "Yes."

  "We still don't know if these guys actually have Eva in their possession. Now that it's on the news, anybody can make ransom demands."

  "Yes, but they claimed to have her before Eva’s disappearance was public knowledge."

  "I understand, but I'm not inclined to advise you to pay the ransom without first ascertaining proof of her well-being."

  "I can appreciate that, but I just don't want to do anything that would cause Eva harm."

  "We’re on our way over. We'll be there in a few minutes," I said before ending the call.

  I grabbed JD, and we hustled out of the bar. We jogged down the sidewalk, weaving between tourists. Music from live bands spilled into the street, and the smell of food wafted from the restaurants.

  We hopped into the car, and JD cranked up the engine. He dropped it into gear and sped away from the curb. Wind swirled around the cabin with the top down.

  I called Isabella. “Nolan just got another text from the kidnappers. Can you tell me about the incoming message?"

  "I see the data packet that was sent to the phone, but it's encrypted. I still can't tell where it's coming from."

  “Thanks. Let me know if you figure anything out."

  "Good luck."

  I ended the call as we twisted through the streets of Stingray Bay. JD pulled to the curb across from Nolan's compound, and we rushed to the pedestrian gate.

  Jason buzzed us in, and a moment later, we were in the living room with Nolan, Harlow, and two additional bodyguards, John Coulter and Terrence Jamison.

  Nolan paced about the living room, growing increasingly agitated. The more tense he got, the more worried Harlow looked, helpless to soothe his distress. I could tell she was highly disturbed. She was the kind of girl who prided herself on having solutions for all of Nolan's problems. It was almost like a codependent relationship. She lived through him. His satisfaction was hers.

  "Why aren't they texting me back with proof of life?" Nolan growled.

  "I think we have to consider the fact that they don't have her," I said.

  "I don't know what to do."

  "Do nothing until you hear from them," I said.

  "That's easy for you to say. It's not your wife."

  "No, it's not."

  “We waited for another hour, and Nolan never stopped pacing. With each step, he seemed to unravel further. Finally, he said, “Fuck it. I've had enough of this."

  18

  Nolan launched a crypto wallet on his phone and scrolled through a few screens.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, growing concerned.

  “Giving them what they want.” He copied and pasted the kidnapper’s crypto wallet address and sent $100 million before I could stop him.

  I sighed and shook my head. "You have no leverage now."

  "I have a ton of leverage. I have lots more where that came from."

  He sent one last text to the kidnappers that read: [I transferred the funds. Release Eva unharme
d, now.]

  Again we waited for a reply but received no response.

  "If you’re not going to take my advice, I'm not sure there's much I can do for you," I said.

  "At this point, I don't think there is anything anyone can do. It's in God's hands now," he said.

  I didn’t figure Nolan for the religious type, but some people seem to find God in desperate times.

  We hung out at his house for another hour, and still, there was no response from the kidnappers. I asked Nolan if he wanted us to stay at the house for the rest of the night in case they responded.

  "That won’t be necessary. I have ample security. If anything arises, I will contact you."

  "Anytime, day or night. We're here. Don't hesitate to call."

  "I can't thank you enough for everything you’ve done. I just hope these people do the right thing and let Eva go."

  I tried to remain optimistic. Counting on criminals to do the right thing rarely worked out.

  We left Nolan's and drove back to Diver Down. We stopped at the bar for a drink. Alejandro was serving. Teagan had long since gotten off for the evening. He poured a couple glasses of whiskey and slid them across the counter.

  We sipped our drinks and tried to unwind. But there was nothing to celebrate about this day.

  "Think Eva is still alive?" JD asked.

  "The lack of proof of life is worrisome."

  “I think... Well, I’m not gonna say what I think.” Jack took another sip.

  We hung out and finished our drink. It was late, and we were both tired. JD headed home, and I ambled down the dock to the Avventura.

  Despite the grim outlook, my hope was that Eva was still alive. With any luck, she’d turn up by the morning, having been released somewhere.

  But I wasn’t holding my breath.

  The moon cast a glow over the marina, and the boats gently swayed in their slips. It was a calm evening. I crossed the passerelle to the aft deck, and Buddy greeted me when I slid open the salon door.

  Sophia Breslin sat on the settee, sipping a glass of whiskey. "I think he's taken a liking to me."