Caribbean Rescue (Coastal Fury Book 16)

by Matt Lincoln

  “The interrogation room is right in here,” the officer said as we came to a stop in front of a door. I could see the man through the little square window in the door, sitting at a table. “I’ll go and get Frank if you’ll just wait here a moment. One of you should stay out here, too. You need to push this button for the door to open. I would, but I need to get back to the front.”

  “I’ll wait outside,” Holm offered. “That way, Olivia can be involved too.”

  He made it sound like he was doing it for purely practical reasons since this way there would be both an MBLIS and FBI representative in the room, but I could have sworn I heard him snicker something about a “third wheel.”

  “We have a monitoring room you can watch from,” the helpful officer informed us. “I can take you there as soon as I’m done fetching Frank.”

  “Thanks,” Holm replied gratefully.

  The officer left then, presumably to get Frank from his holding cell. For just a second, I was hit with the terrifying thought that the nice guy act might all be a ruse and that he might be letting Frank escape now while we waited here unawares.

  However, my fears were proven to be unfounded just a moment later when he suddenly rounded the corner, his arm firm on Frank’s elbow as he guided him down the hallway.

  Frank sneered at us viciously as the officer led him past us and into the interrogation room.

  “Alright,” he announced a moment later as he reemerged from the room. “He’s ready now. I’ll show you to the monitoring room, then.”

  I watched as he and Holm stepped into an adjacent room before I stepped into the interrogation room with Olivia.

  Frank looked up at us as we walked inside, his face set into an unfriendly scowl.

  “Hello, Frank,” I greeted him casually as I moved to take a seat opposite him at the table. He squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest, doing his absolute best to give off the best ‘tough guy’ impression he could. In my experience, though, the more intimidating a guy tried to look, the more of a pathetic coward he was. Maybe scaring him into talking would be the best angle to approach him from.

  He ignored me completely and instead turned to look at Olivia. Just as I’d suspected. This guy was so big and tough that, of course, he would immediately go for the smaller female target than the man who had just spoken to him.

  “You’re the one who shot my buddy,” he snarled at her, baring his teeth like a rabid dog.

  “Yeah, that was me,” she replied impassively, clearly unimpressed with his ‘menacing’ display. “That’s what happens when you open fire on a beach full of innocent people.”

  “You’re a coward,” he spat at her. “Shooting a man in the back is the lowest of the low.”

  “Funny you should talk about cowards,” I hummed. “Tell me, how much courage does it take to shoot an unarmed woman? Or, how about we talk about your other friend? The one who took off as soon as things started going south and hid behind a young girl so that the police officer pursuing him wouldn’t shoot?”

  His mouth twisted into a puckered frown as though he’d just bitten into a lemon.

  “Now you have nothing to say, of course.” Olivia nodded.

  “Of course, I have nothing to say to a couple of pigs!” he sneered. “I’m no rat. I’m not going to snitch on my own brothers.”

  “Well, that’s a mistake,” I scoffed. “Because I can assure you, they won’t show you the same loyalty.”

  “What do you know of loyalty?” he asked, his deep voice gravelly with anger.

  “I know that criminals like you and your ‘brothers’ always turn on each other in the end,” I replied. “You know it too, don’t you? Eventually, someone’s going to panic to spill the information we want. And once those floodgates open, that’s it for the rest of you.”

  I was bluffing since we didn’t even have anyone else in custody, but Frank here didn’t need to know that. It seemed like the bluff was working, too, as he suddenly swallowed heavily and looked down at the table.

  “What was the total casualty count?” Olivia asked me casually. She tossed me a look out of the corner of her eye, and I knew she’d caught on to what I was doing. “Was it three dead and seven injured?”

  “Four dead, if you count Frank’s buddy,” I replied as I turned to look Frank directly in the eye.

  “Yikes.” Olivia grimaced. “That’s a lot of victims. A lot of damage for one single person to be saddled with.”

  “W-what do you mean by that?” Frank stammered, his jaw going slack.

  “Exactly what it sounds like.” I shrugged. “We’ve got a beach full of dead and injured people and only one perp in custody. One of your friends is dead, and the other hightailed it out of there as soon as the going got tough. Do you really think he won’t turn on you if he gets the chance? I mean, he left you behind to deal with the consequences all by yourself. I’d sure hate to be the one to go down for all those crimes on my own.”

  “I wonder what kind of prison time we’re looking at,” Olivia mused out loud. “Ten years per victim, at least, don’t you think?”

  “Definitely,” I agreed, though I actually had no idea. “Not to mention a harsher sentence once the judge finds out how uncooperative he was during the investigation.”

  “Alright.”

  “Yep, can’t forget about that.” Olivia nodded. “I wonder how soon we could get the extradition process started.”

  “I said alright.”

  “I can call my director right now and ask,” I said as I pointedly ignored Frank to pull my phone out of my pocket.

  “Listen to me!” the man roared as he slammed his fist down onto the table.

  “Okay.” I smirked as I slipped my phone back into place. “We’re listening, now talk.”

  “I don’t know where Thomas is,” he grumbled. “That’s the other man who was with us. We’re not exactly friends, you know? We go where we’re told and do what the boss tells us to do.”

  “And who is this ‘boss’ of yours?” Olivia raised an eyebrow at him.

  “I don’t know his name,” Frank replied.

  “Convenient,” Olivia deadpanned.

  “I’m telling the truth!” Frank hissed. “He’s paranoid about anyone finding out his identity. It’s not a good idea to call attention to ourselves in our line of work.”

  “That line of work being prostitution,” I countered.

  “That’s right,” he replied. “Anyway, I don’t know his name, but I know how you can get in contact with him. There’s an old guy that runs an antique store over in Grace Bay. He knows how to get in touch with the boss.”

  “And you know this how?” Olivia asked.

  “He’s the one who gives us our assignments,” Frank explained. “He’s an old geezer who sits on his store’s porch all day, so he’s the perfect cover.”

  “You’re a real charmer, you know that?” Olivia snarled at him.

  He flashed her a malicious, yellow-toothed grin before continuing.

  “Go there and tell him that ‘Simon’ sent you,” he told us.

  “Simon?” I repeated. “Why would I say that, Frank?”

  “You think we use our real names?” he snapped at me angrily. “I just got finished telling you that I don’t even know my boss’s name. Use your head! I thought you feds were supposed to be smart.”

  “Settle down,” Olivia warned him before pulling her phone out of her bag. She glanced at me sideways, a look of suspicion on her face. I could tell she wasn’t entirely buying what Frank was telling us, and I couldn’t blame her. Something about it seemed off to me, too.

  “Alright,” he muttered as she pulled up a GPS app on her phone. “Tell us the address.”

  14

  Ethan

  Holm met up with Olivia and me outside the interrogation room just moments after we wrapped everything up.

  “Well, that guy was definitely hiding something,” he scoffed right away.

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.<
br />
  Before Holm could answer, Captain Turner’s grating, fake-nice voice came booming down the hallway.

  “Agents!” he bellowed cheerfully, all of his earlier hostility gone. Or, at least, well hidden beneath a thick veneer of false friendliness. “I’m glad I caught you. I have good news. I’ve found someone to replace Walter as your escort.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Olivia muttered as the captain stepped confidently toward us, a lanky, nervous-looking officer hot on his heels.

  “This is Officer Jackson,” the captain introduced the new officer with a strong clap on the back. “He’ll be accompanying you for the rest of your time here on the island.”

  “Yeah, no. I don’t think so,” Olivia retorted immediately before I could reply. I was about to indicate the same, though maybe not quite as bluntly.

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to insist,” the captain pressed on, his frightening smile cracking just a bit. “It’s only proper that you be accompanied by a member of the local authority while you are here in our country.”

  “It is.” She shrugged. “But you kind of forced our hand earlier with that little tantrum you threw, so we went ahead and got permission to continue the investigation on our own. Amazing what the FBI can do, huh? Turns out the greater government of Turks & Caicos isn’t fond of the idea of American children being kidnapped while visiting their islands. So thank you, but no thank you.”

  Turner had been getting redder and redder as Olivia spoke, and by the time she was finished, he looked about ready to blow. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes looked like they were about to bug out of his head.

  “Well, we’ll just get going then,” I said as I did my best to stifle the laughter that was threatening to burst out. As entertaining as it was to watch Olivia give the captain a verbal beatdown, I figured we probably shouldn’t push our luck.

  As we hurried down the hall and toward the exit, I noticed that the lanky officer Turner had dragged with him looked immensely more relaxed, as if he was relieved that Olivia had refused. I could only imagine what he’d asked the officer to do. Probably spy on our investigation for him as he’d intended with Keys.

  “I’ll have my director call and see what he can do about having him transported somewhere else,” Olivia sighed as we stepped outside. The sun was beginning to set, and the island air was a lot cooler now. “I’d rather not have to deal with that idiot Turner the next time we have to speak with him, and I have a feeling getting a call from the FBI will scare him more than a call from an agency no one’s ever heard of. No offense.”

  “None taken,” Holm replied. “We prefer to keep a low profile, anyway.”

  “You think we’ll need to interrogate him again?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she muttered in response. “I think Holm was right about him hiding something. Plus, I just don’t trust Turner not to lose him. He seemed awfully eager to keep us away from him, don’t you think?”

  “You think he’s in league with the traffickers?” I asked, genuinely curious to hear her thoughts.

  “Maybe.” She shrugged. “Or maybe he just wants to avoid pissing off the wrong people, the same way that Kenneth did. Either way, I’d rather not leave our suspect in his inept hands for any longer than we have to.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” I chuckled. “Anyway, it’s getting late. Why don’t we hold off on the antique store owner until tomorrow? You said you wanted to try some of the local food, right?”

  “Yes, I do!” Olivia’s eyes suddenly went wide with excitement. “I’m starving. I haven’t had anything to eat since this morning.”

  “Yeah, I could eat too,” I remarked as I suddenly realized just how hungry I was.

  “Let me just make that phone call real quick,” she muttered as she stepped away from us.

  “You in too?” I turned to look at Holm.

  “Eh, I think I’m going to sit this one out.” Holm snickered. “I’m not so keen on the idea of being a third wheel for the rest of the night. You two have been making eyes at each other since we were on the airplane. It’s almost nauseating, to be honest.”

  “Shut up,” I said as I punched him lightly on the shoulder, though I was secretly grateful he was choosing to duck out.

  “Don’t have too much fun, though,” he teased. “We’ve still got work tomorrow.”

  “Weren’t you leaving?” I asked him.

  “I’m gone, I’m gone,” he snorted with laughter as he turned to head back to the hotel on his own.

  “Where’s he going?” Olivia asked as she returned.

  “He wasn’t feeling up to walking around,” I lied smoothly. “I think he was tired after the crazy day we’ve had.”

  “Aw, that’s too bad,” she replied. I was pleased to hear that she didn’t sound disappointed about it at all. “Should we head back to that shark place? I’m curious about what it’ll taste like.”

  “Sounds good to me.” I smiled as we began to head back toward the part of the beach where we’d first spotted the woman selling fried shark. Now that we weren’t on our way to speak to a witness, I could actually take the time to enjoy the scenery better. It looked nice even as the sun was going down, maybe even better, as now everything seemed to glow as the sunset case long, golden rays across the town.

  It surprised me to find that the beach was still fairly crowded, despite the shooting that had taken place earlier. It seemed as though everything was back to business as usual. It was a little unnerving, but I decided to shelve the issue for another time. Right now, I wanted to enjoy my time with Olivia.

  “Shoot, looks like it’s gone,” Olivia sighed as we reached the spot where the woman had been set up earlier. The stand was gone, and in its place was a completely different cart. The man working the spot now appeared to be selling what looked like some kind of fish sandwiches. They looked good, but it wasn’t nearly as exciting or novel.

  “That’s a shame,” I replied, honestly a little disappointed. “It’s not every day you get a chance to eat shark.”

  “Well, let’s just keep looking,” she suggested. “It looks like a lot of other stuff is available, too.”

  All along the boardwalk were restaurants, bars, pop-up stands, and little carts manned by people selling not only food but little trinkets and souvenirs as well.

  “I wonder what a ‘conch fritter’ is,” I mumbled out loud as I read the name off a large sign affixed to the top of a permanent outdoor eatery.

  “Let’s find out,” Olivia replied before hooking her arm around mine and leading me toward the small restaurant. The building itself was small, with a large window set into the wall facing the street. All around the building were tables and chairs where patrons could eat after putting their order in at the window.

  “What’ll you have?” the man standing at the order window asked us with a toothy grin.

  Whatever conch fritters were, we’d be in for a treat if they tasted half as amazing as the smells wafting out of this place. I could see people cooking on large stoves just behind the man at the window. Steam was rising up from the hot surfaces with an enticing sizzle, and I could feel the heat as it billowed through the window onto us in deliciously scented waves.

  “We’ll have some conch fritters,” Olivia answered before looking back up at the sign posted above the window. “Oh, and some grilled lobster, please.”

  “Coming right up!” the man replied before yelling something back into the kitchen. He turned back to us after someone yelled something back. “That will be twenty-five dollars even.”

  Olivia reached down as if to pull something from her bag, but I intercepted her before she could.

  “I’ve got it.” I smiled at her before pulling several bills from my wallet and handing them to the man.

  “Should be ready in about fifteen minutes,” he informed us before moving on to help the next customer.

  “Looks like all the tables are full.” She frowned as she looked around at the patio around the outside of
the building. That was an understatement, as people were sitting on the curb as well as leaning against walls or just plain standing as well. It looked like this was a pretty popular place.

  “Let’s just go eat on the beach after we get our food,” I suggested. We were only a few steps away from the sand, and it would be an infinitely more romantic dining location than the crowded and noisy patio.

  “We still don’t know what conch fritters are, though,” she laughed. “What if it’s something messy? Won’t it be difficult to take it all the way over there?”

  “Well, I don’t know what ‘conch’ is.” I shrugged. “But fritters are little fried balls of dough, right? Seems like the perfect finger food.”

  “Good point,” she replied as she slipped her phone out of her pocket. I watched as she stared at it for a moment, typing something before her eyes suddenly lit up. “Aha! That’s what they are.”

  “What?” I asked as I stepped close behind her to peer over her shoulder at her phone.

  “Conch fritters,” she explained triumphantly, “are made of queen conch meat. They’re like little sea slugs that live inside conch shells.”

  “Slugs?” I deadpanned. “Awesome. I’m so glad we looked that up after we’d already ordered them.”

  “Oh, stop,” she admonished me playfully as she turned around to look me in the eye. “I’m sure they’ll be good. According to this blog, they’re a delicacy in the Caribbean.”

  “I hope so,” I muttered, making no move to step away from her even after she put her phone away.

  “This place is so gorgeous,” she hummed as she looked out along the shoreline. The sun had already dipped halfway below the horizon and was casting rays of warm pink and orange across the sand. “I wish we were here on vacation instead of to catch a bunch of sex traffickers.”

  “Well, we have some time to relax now,” I murmured. “We should enjoy it while we can. If the rest of our time here is anything like today, I have a feeling we won’t be getting a lot of downtime in the coming days.”