Vigilante Dead (Kate Jones Thriller #8)

by Berkom, DV

  Darwin gave me a curt nod. “I’ll be using night vision goggles,” he said, pointing to a plastic container on one of the aft seats.

  “He also brought these.” Eve handed everyone a two-way radio about the size of a cell phone, along with an ear mic. Lady D and Luke had finished whatever they’d been doing and joined us on deck.

  “I synced the mics to the radios.” Darwin turned his radio screen to face the group. “Go into settings and make sure covert mode is selected, if not now, then before we get to the island. That way the display won’t light up, and you’ll only be able to hear what’s going on in your earpiece.”

  Everyone turned on the radios and checked.

  “Be sure to turn them off until you need them. The batteries are rated to last eleven hours, but I don’t want to push the envelope.”

  I turned to Eve. “Is Angie joining us?”

  “She surely is, darlin’.” Angie emerged from the darkness of the cabin, a drink in her hand and her large tortoiseshell sunglasses perched on her head. Today she wore all black like the rest of us, only she looked much more chic. It must have been the Hermès scarf.

  “Angie,” I said, by way of greeting.

  “Kate, sugar. How nice to see you.” Her smile lacked warmth. I was getting used to it.

  After Luke gave us a thorough rundown of the Olympic Dream’s layout and safety precautions, we got under way. I checked my phone. It was five fifteen. The sun wouldn’t set until after eight o’clock, leaving us enough daylight to visually locate the island before nightfall. The day was bright and unseasonably warm, at least for May, but the cool breeze off the water made me glad I’d remembered my jacket. Once the sun set, things would turn cold in a hurry.

  Sunlight glinted off the calm, slate-blue water, and I relaxed into the gentle rocking of the boat. We followed the coast northwest past Whidbey Island and the Victorian village of Port Townsend, past forests of Douglas fir and western red cedar hugging the shoreline. The trip was so scenic, I found myself almost forgetting our destination. Memories surfaced from years before when I’d been imprisoned on a yacht in the Caribbean by Vincent Anaya’s right-hand man, Frank Lanzarotti. Such a long time ago. I wondered how Grace, the island’s medicine woman, was doing, whether she was still alive.

  Frank wasn’t.

  Although his death hadn’t been unwelcome, the memories still made me nostalgic for the good old days.

  And then I snapped out of it. Good old days? Really? I’d been running for my life, hoping my past wouldn’t catch up with the people I cared about. This time, things were different. This time, whether I wanted to or not, I was part of the hunting party. Dobson would have to start looking over his shoulder.

  To say I had mixed feelings was an understatement. I’d have preferred to do things on my own terms, not be blackmailed into it.

  Eve stayed inside the cabin and monitored Dobson’s phone, listening for any indication that he’d started for the marina and his floatplane. Kitten was stretched out on a chaise, attention riveted on her phone. Lady D was up on the fly bridge with Luke, and Darwin was asleep on a bench nearby. Angie had claimed the captain’s cabin, of course, and was nowhere to be seen.

  I pulled up a book I’d been reading on my phone, but the beauty surrounding me was more interesting, so I put it back in my bag. A few minutes later, an eagle dipped into the sound and grabbed a fish with its talons before giving a flap of its massive wings and flying off with its prize.

  Time passed and the shadows along the shore grew. I must have dozed off with the rocking, because a loud hiss erupted to my right and I jumped to my feet. Heart thudding in my ears, I looked over the side in time to see a pod of three black and white orcas surface just off the stern.

  “Whales to starboard,” I called, digging my phone out of my purse. Luke glanced behind him and gave me a thumbs- up. The rest of the crew came to my side of the boat to get a better look. Everyone took out their phones and filmed the scene. The pod stuck around for a little while longer before finally swimming away toward the setting sun.

  We all stayed on deck, hoping the orcas would come back and give us another show, but everybody eventually returned to their original positions when it was obvious they were gone. All but Darwin, who sat beside me. I scooted over to make room.

  “So how do you know Eve?” I asked.

  Darwin looked into the distance and paused before answering. “She used to go out with my brother, Sean.” He brought his gaze back to mine. “He died a few weeks ago.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I didn’t know what to say. The burden of the loss was obvious by the set of his shoulders and the expression on his face.

  “That’s why I’m here, doing this.” His jaw pulsed. “He died of an overdose. There was fentanyl and a bunch of toxic shit in his bloodstream.”

  Ah. That answered my question regarding motivation for both Eve and Darwin. “My sister Lisa is in a coma because she took a contaminated painkiller manufactured by Pro-Pharma. The last time I spoke to my father, she wasn’t doing very well.” I let out a long sigh. The excitement of seeing the whales had fallen flat, replaced by claustrophobic worry.

  Darwin’s expression hardened and he made a fist. “I’m going to make that asshole pay for what he did.” His voice was quiet, as though he was speaking to himself.

  The memory of Angie killing Chacon—the shock and anger I felt at her taking things into her own hands—rushed back in full technicolor. Darwin’s confession had just turned the goal of the trip 180 degrees, and not for the better. Now, instead of just threatening Dobson if he didn’t confess to distributing the painkillers, it looked like the group was determined to go even further. I’d hoped the trip wouldn’t go sideways, but hope doesn’t cut it in horseshoes and blackmail.

  Or something like that.

  There was no way out of this, not with Angie’s video of me in Chacon’s house hanging over my head. And Sam’s. I was trapped. And just what was Angie’s motivation, anyway? Why did she even care about some CEO for Big Pharma?

  How far would this band of hackers go?

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got things handled.” He glanced at me, a determined look in his eyes. “I want him to hurt like he hurt Sean.”

  That didn’t sound promising. “Does Eve know what you’re planning?”

  He nodded. “She’s good with it.” He turned to me, his blue eyes shining with an intensity that hadn’t been there before. “I hope you are, too.”

  A chill spiraled down my back at his words. “Why do you think I’m here?”

  My non-answer seemed to placate him. What else could I say? If the rest of the group had decided to hurt or even kill Dobson, there wasn’t much I could do without the possibility of the others turning on me. It would be difficult to find my way back to civilization if they left me stranded, and that wasn’t even the worst-case scenario. What was Eve’s end game? For that matter, what about Angie? Were they going to kill Dobson and then leave me on the island to take the fall? Stranger things had happened. All I had to defend myself from any accusations was the address to the apartment in Seattle and Eve’s and Angie’s phone numbers, each of which could be changed. Eve most likely had most of my particulars and could make my life a living hell if she thought I had crossed her in any way. Besides, Angie’s promise to upload the incriminating video wasn’t just a threat. It was a sure thing.

  With Angie along for the ride, I had a bad feeling things would not end well for Mick Dobson.

  Or me.

  Twenty-Eight

  WE’D BEEN MOTORING along for the better part of two hours when Eve emerged from the cabin.

  “Dobson’s headed for the floatplane and the marina. He mentioned picking up supplies before leaving, so our timing’s good.” She checked her phone. “It’s seven twenty now. If everything goes as planned, we should be at the island within the hour. Once he’s in the air, it won’t take Dobson long to fly there. We need to be set
up before he arrives.”

  “Can I talk to you a sec?”

  Eve walked over and sat on the edge of the bench seat. “What’s up?”

  “Darwin mentioned your connection to his brother.”

  Eve gave a slow nod. “And?”

  “And I think there’s more to this trip than you led me to believe. What are you planning to do to Dobson?” I leveled my gaze at her. “You need to be straight with me. I brought this to you. My intent was never murder. I thought we were clear on that.”

  Conflicting emotions flitted through her eyes. “We are. We’re not killers, Kate.”

  “What about Angie? You do know what she does for a living, right?”

  “She’s...here to make sure it all runs smoothly.”

  I almost laughed. “Yeah, you might want to keep an eye on her. Spectator sports aren’t really her style.”

  Eve shook her head. “If she’s got other plans, there’s not a lot I can do to stop her. We’re a democracy here, not a dictatorship.”

  “You should have a word with Darwin, then. I think he has other plans.” I glanced at Eve. “When the reason for your pain is sitting right in front of you, it’s hard to pull back. Believe me, I know.”

  “Dobson is the reason for Sean’s death. Who else would it be? He knew exactly what would happen. Sean was only trying to stop the pain—” Tears welled in her eyes and she looked away.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” I searched her face, hoping for a glimpse of reason. Revenge fueled by hurt and grief and assumed powerlessness was a strong motivator that often masked the real problem. “Lashing out doesn’t fill up the hole inside of you.” My voice was just loud enough for her to hear over the hum of the boat engine.

  She nodded that she understood, but did she really? And, when the time came, would she be able to contain Darwin’s thirst for revenge? And what the hell was Angie planning? The way things were going, the evening was headed toward a bloody, horrendous mess. Bile crept up my throat at the thought. I didn’t want to be a part of this kind of vigilantism. True, when I broke into Chacon’s house, my intention had been to kill him once I’d gotten the information I needed. I’d been naïve. It had become very clear that wasn’t the way to rid myself of the pain and anger I felt over what happened to Lisa. The front row seat to Angie killing Chacon had brought it all home. Reality was far different from the imagined scenario. I’d been around enough death and violence to understand that its perpetuation only created more pain. It was obvious to me that Darwin and the others hadn’t learned that yet.

  And Angie never would.

  I gazed across the now-dark water at the deepening shadows. Black, billowing clouds were gathering to the north. Half of me was glad we were almost to the island—it meant the evening would be over soon. The other half kept replaying the fear that we were headed into a seriously bad situation that was quickly growing out of control.

  Lost in thought, I didn’t notice the abrupt change in weather until the lower pitch of the engine dragged me back to reality. I glanced up at Luke standing at the helm, his back rod-straight, legs canted for stability. I couldn’t see his expression, but his tensed shoulders spoke volumes.

  “Need any help?” I called. The water had gone from smooth and blue to choppy and black in a matter of minutes. Wind whipped my face as the smell of rain filled the air. The black clouds that had seemed far away were now overhead.

  “Thanks, but I got it handled,” Luke called back. The boat pitched and I grabbed on to the rail to keep myself from being thrown to the deck. My backpack fell over, sending the contents flying. The ping of coins bouncing onto the deck told me I had forgotten to zip it closed.

  Holding on to the gunwales to keep my balance, I retrieved the pack and rounded up the contents littering the deck as a light pattering of rain hit my face. The wind whipped my jacket open, revealing my shoulder holster and gun. I glanced toward the cabin to see if anyone had noticed, but couldn’t be sure. I hurriedly zipped the jacket closed. I’d hate to wrestle Darwin or anyone else for it.

  “You should probably get inside,” Luke yelled. “Looks like we’re headed into a squall.”

  I waved at him and went into the cabin. The rest of the group had taken their positions, with Darwin in the captain’s chair, and Eve, Lady D, and Kitten tucked into the built-in seats. I assumed Angie was below in the forward berth. How she could stay there with all the juddering of the boat was anyone’s guess. Everyone’s attention was riveted on either a phone or a tablet. I marveled at their ability to tune out the storm.

  The wind howled and the Olympic Dream shuddered as it headed into the chop, slamming down hard with each wave. I staggered over to a vacant seat next to a window and sat down. Spreading my feet wide, I braced myself against the boat’s bucking, attempting to stay upright. How were they even able to read?

  As the ship rolled and pitched at an alarming angle, I found myself questioning Luke’s captaining ability but discarded the thought. The wind had come up suddenly. Squalls were like that. The weather could turn in a minute, especially on the water.

  It wasn’t long before my stomach started to rebel. Nausea built in my throat and I closed my eyes with a groan.

  Bad decision, closing my eyes.

  The world started to spin. I opened my eyes and stood. Holding on to whatever was available, I staggered out of the cabin and onto the deck, where I gulped in air and tried not to hurl. The boat was twisting this way and that, tossed on the waves as though it was just a plastic toy in some giant’s bathtub. I braved a quick glance to see how Luke was doing, but my hair got in the way and things started to spin again. I raced to the gunwales and leaned over the side.

  Experiencing lunch a second time was not pleasant.

  At that point, I didn’t care what the weather was doing, I just wanted to die. Anything would have been better than living with the misery that was seasickness. I followed the initial barf-fest with several more attempts which proved futile. There was nothing left. Gripping the safety line, I hung my head over the side, my agonized groans lost to the evil wind that had taken over the boat.

  What surely must have been a year later, the wind tapered off to a stiff breeze and the space between waves lengthened. Lifting my head, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, amazed that I was still coherent. Relief filtered through me, and I leaned back and closed my eyes, glad that the incessant bucking had become less like riding an enraged, psychotic bull and more like a tame pony.

  “Land, ho!” Luke’s voice drifted down from above. One by one the others emerged from the cabin. Off the port side, a dark, rocky promontory jutted up from the sea. Whitecaps bashed against the base of a bluff, and tall firs spiked across the top edge like a giant Mohawk. The island’s sheer granite cliffs formed an impenetrable wall from sea to crest. A deep vertical shadow appeared in the rocks to the left of a lone, stunted madrone clinging precipitously to a ledge. Luke spun the wheel toward the gap in the rock and accelerated. Everyone grabbed hold of the gunwales as the boat rocketed forward.

  The nearer we came to the island, the louder the engines echoed against the cliff. Luke pulled back on the throttle, and we drifted past the opening. The dark clouds from the squall were still prevalent, casting the small bay in a murky gray light. A long wooden dock sliced through the steel-colored water like a crooked seam, a covered power boat tied up next to it. The dock joined several stairs leading up a steep cliff. At the top of the rise stood a large structure that reminded me of a north woods lodge where Sam and I had stayed a few months back. Heavy timber marked the peak of the roof, with the front of the house a wall of glass. Little path lights dotted the landscape, illuminating the way up the stairs to the front door.

  Luke accelerated and we pushed through the waves past the opening to the far side of the island. He skirted the rocks, looking for a promising spot that he’d found on the satellite photo. Halfway around the island, there it was—a small indentation in the cliff face, marked by a narrow triangle
of sand that led to an even narrower crevice further in.

  Seeing it now, the climb looked more difficult than it had on the photograph. Luke dropped anchor and joined us on deck. Angie reemerged from below and stood next to him. Her hair was mussed and her complexion had a greenish cast, but otherwise she looked none the worse for wear.

  Eve checked her phone one more time. “He’s at the marina. That gives us approximately two hours to make it onto the island and get inside the house, depending on whether he takes his time leaving.

  “As soon as we have a visual on the house,” she continued, “Kitten’s going to set up her laptop and hack into the security system. From there we should be able to locate whatever we need to avoid, like cameras and such. Darwin, once Kitten’s got that under control, you do your thing. Check to make sure the caretaker house isn’t occupied first, and then run a loop of the perimeter. Both of you guys should check in periodically.”

  Both Kitten and Darwin nodded that they understood.

  “Luke will lead us up the cliff to the house,” Eve added. “If the place is locked, Kate brought along a set of picks.”

  “And what’s your role, Angie?” I asked drily.

  She smiled and shrugged. “I’m just along for the ride, sugar.”

  Not likely.

  Luke walked to the stern and hauled on the rope attached to the inflatable to bring it alongside. “Lady D’s staying with the boat, in case the weather turns again.”

  I followed Darwin into the cabin to retrieve the waterproof bags with our equipment. We handed the bags to Luke and Angie, who were already on board the smaller boat, and they stowed them in the bow. Eve climbed in, followed by Kitten and myself. Darwin jumped in last.