by Tripp Ellis
Wild Gold
Tyson Wild Book Nine
Tripp Ellis
Contents
Welcome
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Author’s Note
Tyson Wild
Max Mars
Connect With Me
Copyright © 2019 by Tripp Ellis
All rights reserved. Worldwide.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents, except for incidental references to public figures, products, or services, are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental, and not intended to refer to any living person or to disparage any company’s products or services. All characters engaging in sexual activity are above the age of consent.
No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, uploaded, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter devised, without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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1
The calm of the evening was about to get shattered.
I was just minding my own business, out on the water. I was here strictly for my own enjoyment. If we found anything, it would be a bonus.
Jack Donovan and I sat in the aft deck of the Vivere, drinking cold beer and watching our fishing lines as the super-yacht bobbed on the swells. The night air was cool, and the sea looked like a giant tub of ink. Pale moonlight speckled the surface of the ocean.
This was the life.
Exactly what the doctor ordered. I needed peace and quiet. Time to decompress.
So many things had gone wrong. The future was uncertain. But the water seemed to melt away all of my troubles. The rest of the world didn't exist out here.
Jack checked the progress of the Scavenger II on his cell phone.
He had ordered another high tech, remote sonar drone. The Scavenger was a casualty of theft when the Wild Tide was stolen. That was okay, Jack had said, because the Scavenger II is much better.
Everything had to be state-of-the-art with Jack. He certainly liked his toys.
The drone looked like a Tomahawk missile. It had a sleek, narrow fuselage with guidance fins and an aft propeller. The wireless drone would scan the seafloor and create an accurate image of the terrain. You could set the coordinates of the area to be scanned, and the drone would do an automated sweep. The whole thing was controlled with an app on your cell phone.
To tell you the truth, I didn't think there was anything down there.
But Jack was convinced the lost treasure of the infamous French pirate, Jacques De La Fontaine, rested at the bottom of the ocean just north of Angelfish Key Island.
He'd been doing his research, reading book after book. There were various theories proposed as to where the treasure might be—if it existed at all. Some said it was aboard the Black Rose, others said it had been transferred, and still others speculated that it had been buried on an unnamed key and was still undiscovered.
It was the kind of thing that aficionados argued about endlessly in online forums. It had almost taken on mythical status, and each person that you talked to had a different story. Not to mention, the amount of the treasure grew with each retelling.
With my impending financial woes, I certainly could use the money, but that's not really why I was out here in the middle of the night. It was an escape. A fantasy. An excuse to go on the prowl.
Finding the treasure was irrelevant.
The hunt was the actual prize. That, and spending time with my best friend.
There was a time when I didn't think Jack would make it. But somehow, JD pulled through unscathed. A few scars, and a small gap in his memory, but not too bad—all things considered.
“You ready for another?" Jack asked as I swallowed the last gulp of beer down.
I nodded.
JD grabbed the empty bottles from the table. They clinked together in his hand as he moved toward the trash. He lifted the lid on the cooler and grabbed two more long necks. He tossed one to me, and I twisted the top with a hiss.
Jack lifted his beer, and we clinked necks.
“To pirate booty," Jack said with a grin.
I chuckled and took a swig of my beer.
"Speaking of booty, I think we need to hit happy hour at Forbidden Fruit tomorrow," Jack said.
"I've got nothing but free time," I replied.
I was still on administrative leave, pending an investigation. My charges in California were hanging over my head like a dark cloud. My court date was scheduled for the end of the month.
It was total BS.
I may have gotten in the guy’s face and been a tad too aggressive. But I didn't pull a gun on Easton Carter.
The famed acting guru was scum.
He’d been abusing his position of power for years, taking advantage of aspiring young starlets who were willing to do anything for fame and fortune.
He claimed I threatened to kill him.
I didn’t.
Well, not in so many words.
I was trying not to think about it. Breathe in. Breathe out. Relax.
Unfortunately, the evening would turn out to be anything but relaxing. Jack’s phone rang, and I heard Sheriff Daniels bark through the tiny speaker. I couldn’t hear exactly what was said. It sounded like a distorted jumble of words.
“No shit?” Jack said, having listened to the details. “We’ll be right there.”
Jack hung up the phone and gave me a look.
I raised my hands, innocently. “Oh, no! Not me. You got the wrong guy. I don’t have a badge. I don’t have a gun. I’m not supposed to go anywhere near a crime scene.”
Jack’s face crinkled, dismissively. “Nonsense. Daniels wouldn’t have called if he didn’t want us both there.”
“He called you, not me.”
“He knows I’m with you.”
I shook my head. “Not getting involved.”
“Where is your sense of adventure?”
“Right here, searching for lost treasure.”
“Believe me, the treasure is not going anywhere. And this is urgent.”
I gave him a doubtful glance. Then curiosity got the best of me. “What’s so urgent?”
2
Jack recovered the drone, toweled it off, and stowed it in a fancy waterproof case. The foam cutout held the expensive device, snugly.
We weighed a
nchor, and Jack took the helm, angling us back toward Coconut Key. We were nearly an hour away, and by the time we reached the crime scene, it was buzzing with police officers, emergency personnel, and news crews. The area was taped off, and deputies struggled to keep the vultures with cameras at a distance. Red and blue lights flickered. A helicopter circled overhead, spotlighting the scene. The patter of the rotor blades thumped.
The forensics team documented the site. Cameras flashed, and the medical examiner, Brenda, hovered over the body—or what was left of it.
Sheriff Daniels glared at us. "What took you so long?"
Jack shrugged. "We got here as fast as we could. We were out near Angelfish Key.”
"What were you doing out there?"
"Fishing," Jack said, not wanting to reveal anything about his treasure hunt.
His eyes flicked to me, begging my silence.
I wasn't going to say anything.
Daniels’s stern gaze found me. "What are you doing here?"
I raised my hands innocently. "I'm just a civilian along for the ride."
His stare persisted.
"I'll leave if you want me to? I've got better things to do."
Daniels said nothing.
The victim’s head had been pulverized by a high-caliber weapon. The blood that pooled around her body looked black under the night sky. She wasn't far from the entrance to the storefront. Blood speckled the glass door. The vapor lamps high overhead buzzed and flickered, bathing the parking lot in a green glow. Moths swirled around them.
The signage overhead read: MXR Metals.
The place bought and sold gold and jewelry and was known around town for their high-end custom work. Everyone who was anyone had a custom piece—celebrities, sports heroes, rap stars. Need a diamond encrusted cell phone case? This was the place. Need a gold chain that weighed enough to give you back problems? This was the place. How about diamond encrusted sunglasses with your initials?
The prices were exorbitant, but the work was quality.
"According to her driver's license, the victim is Olivia Carson,” Daniels said. “She owns the store with her husband, Charles. Took a .45 to the head."
“Ouch!” Jack winced. “What time?"
"Brenda says 9:30 PM, according to body temp," Daniels replied.
"Motive?" Jack asked.
Daniels shrugged. "Robbery? A jewelry store on Conch Drive was knocked off last week. Could be the same guys?”
"What was taken here?” I couldn't help but ask.
Daniels shot me a look. He hesitated, then said, “Her wallet is still in her purse. No cash was taken from it, but she may have been carrying a money bag. Doesn't look like anything is missing from inside. Nothing has been taken from the display cases. But, we won't know for sure until we talk to the husband."
"Has he been notified?" I asked.
"Not yet."
"What about security footage?" I asked.
"I gotta give it to them… Whoever did this is a little smarter than your average criminal,” Daniels said. “They cut power to the building. Rendered the security cameras useless. The backup battery automatically dialed the alarm company. They called us, and we dispatched a unit. That didn't give the perps a lot of time. Maybe that's why they weren't able to take much?"
"Were there any shots fired at the other jewelry store?” I asked. “Do you think we’ll be able to match ballistics?"
Daniels shook his head. "They were in and out without a shot fired. Three guys wearing masks. We have that on video. You guys can take a look at the station. So far, no leads."
A man pushed his way through the horde of reporters and camera crews. His eyes were filled with concern, and his mouth was agape as he took in the scene. A uniformed deputy tried to stop him, but the man protested, “This is my store!”
Daniels waved him through, and the deputy let him pass.
The man's face went pale when he saw the body of the victim. Panic washed over him and sweat sprouted on his forehead. He staggered toward us. "What happened?"
"Who are you?" Daniels asked.
His voice trembled. "I'm Chuck Carson. Is that my…?"
Daniels nodded, "I'm sorry, Mr. Carson."
Chuck struggled to keep it together. His knees went weak.
He looked to be in his early 40s. Short strawberry-blond hair. He stood about 6’2”, had a round, affable face, blue eyes, and a bit of a belly. He wore a white Polo shirt and navy shorts. For a man who owned a jewelry store, he didn’t wear any. Not even a watch.
His eyes misted, and his face reddened. "Do you know who did this?"
Daniels shook his head. "I know this is a delicate time, but if we could ask you a few questions, it would help with the investigation. Time is of the essence."
The man nodded.
"This is Deputy Donovan," Daniels said, motioning to Jack.
Daniels ignored me.
"My condolences, Mr. Carson," Jack said.
"Chuck. It's Chuck." He looked dazed. "I need to sit down for a minute."
He staggered to a nearby patrol car in the parking lot and leaned against the hood. He sobbed for a moment, and his belly jiggled.
We stepped to the patrol car.
Chuck wiped away the tears and recomposed himself.
"Where were you this evening?" JD asked.
Chuck thought about it for a moment, still in a haze of confusion. "I was at home, watching TV. I saw this on the news, and I rushed up here."
"Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to harm your wife?" JD asked.
Chuck's face twisted with confusion. "This was a robbery, wasn't it? I mean, it's probably the same guys who knocked off that jewelry store last week. It’s had me paranoid ever since. I knew I should have installed more security cameras. Maybe hired a guard?"
"This isn’t your fault," JD said.
"Olivia usually carried a pistol. We both have a CHL. It's not unusual for us to carry large sums of cash or expensive jewelry."
"There wasn't a gun found on her person," Daniels said.
"It must have been stolen during the crime?" Chuck suggested.
"When you feel up to it, we’ll need you to make an inventory of missing items," Daniels said. "That will help us track the perpetrators down if those items show up in a pawnshop or on the Internet."
Chuck nodded.
He looked at JD, and his eyes narrowed with curiosity. "You look like that guy in that band…"
JD smiled. "I get that a lot."
"Spitting image. It's uncanny," Chuck said, examining Jack's features. He was clearly in shock and looking for a distraction from reality.
With long, blond hair that was marching toward grey, Jack looked like an aging 80’s rock star. He wore his typical uniform of cargo shorts, a loud Hawaiian shirt, and checkered Vans.
"How was your relationship with your wife?" I asked.
Chuck's face crinkled. "What kind of question is that?"
"It's just routine."
"I love my wife. Loved... my wife. We had a great relationship. Surely you're not suggesting…?"
"I'm not suggesting anything. We're just trying to be thorough."
"I will go on the record right now and tell you I did not kill my wife. That's insane."
"I didn't mean to offend you," I said.
"You'll have to excuse Mr. Wild. He can be a little insensitive at times." Daniels flashed me a sour glance.
"Has anyone made any threats against your wife?" Jack asked.
Chuck shook his head. "No. Everybody loved Olivia. She was kind, caring. She’d do anything for you." He thought about it for a moment. "I mean, now and then we’d have a disgruntled customer."
"Anyone in particular?"
"I don't know. There's always some asshole, you know? And with the Internet, these keyboard warriors like to go online and bitch. Half of the negative reviews of the store are from people who didn't even buy a piece of jewelry. They complain about the price. But hey, if you can't afford my
bling, I don't want you in my store."
"From what I hear, you’ve got a pretty good reputation for custom jewelry," I said.
"Not to brag, but we make the best." He slumped. "At least, we used to. I don't really handle that. My wife is… was… the creative one. She did all the custom work." A grim sigh escaped his lips. "I don't know what I'm going to do now."
The night air was silent for a moment.
Chuck perked up, remembering something. "Hey, I don't know if it means anything, but we had a little trouble with a recent client. Olivia made him a custom necklace. He didn't like it. He was pretty pissed off. He put a $50,000 deposit down. He wanted his money back. Olivia wouldn't give it to him. All of our deposits are nonrefundable."
"Who is the client?"
"Some rapper." He thought about it for a moment. "Lil’ Big Money. That's his name. Had a couple of hits a few years ago. I don't think he's done much since."
"Did he threaten her?" I asked.
Chuck nodded. "Yeah. I guess. Maybe it's a stretch, but he made a pistol with his fingers and pulled the trigger, acting like he was going to blow her head off. I didn't think much of it at the time."
JD and I exchanged a look.
"Thanks," I said. "This is helpful."
"Anything you need, let me know,” Chuck said. “I want you to get the bastards who did this."
"We will," I assured.
3
