Insanely Deadly

by Holly Copella

  Elise rolled her eyes with disgust then realized Stacy was watching them, apparently listening to their conversation. Since she was obviously no match for Bishop, Elise turned her wrath on Stacy instead. “Shouldn't you be working?”

  Stacy immediately looked back to her computer screen and frantically typed nothing in particular. Bishop frowned with disapproval.

  “How do you expect the poor girl to work with her boss throwing a tantrum?” Bishop remarked.

  Elise glared at Bishop and appeared stunned by his disrespectful comment. She immediately turned angry. “I'm talking to Carter about you. I find you offensive, and I don't have to take your sexual harassment.”

  Elise hurried out from behind the desk and stormed across the lobby. Bishop and Stacy watched her until she vanished around the corner into the hallway. Bishop shook his head then looked at Stacy and grinned.

  “You're welcome.”

  Stacy hid her smile and laughed softly.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jetta flew the helicopter over the woodlands and fields several miles from town. Daniels occupied the co-pilot's seat while Milton and Anderson sat in the back and fiddled with high-tech gismos. Jetta remained suspicious of the government men claiming to be CDC. Since minding her own business was simply out of the question, she opted to eavesdrop on the conversation being had in the back while acting disinterested. It was a learned skill.

  “Our first stop is the Albright house,” Daniels informed her while barely looking up from his high-tech tablet. “Do you know where that is?”

  “Yes, I know where that is,” Jetta replied. If she didn't know the area, she'd make a very poor tour guide. She was amazed Daniels was smart enough to tie his own shoes. “I've lived in Winter Harbor my whole life. I've flown over this island so many times; I know every back road, fishing pond, and pothole.”

  “Knowing the area that intimately might be helpful. Take us to the Albright house,” he announced. “And be sure to circle once before landing.”

  That was an interesting request. She wondered what he knew about Dennis and Pam that she didn't. To her knowledge, Dennis was predictable and completely boring, and Pam was flighty and over-sexed.

  “Expecting enemy fire, Daniels?” she teased.

  Daniels glared at her. Jetta caught his look and laughed softly. He was obviously wound too tight and needed a little teasing to loosen him up. Milton looked out the window and indicated Zion's farmhouse as they passed.

  “Who lives in that farmhouse?” Milton asked.

  “That would be Stan and Barb Zion. They own a landscaping business,” Jetta casually informed them. “But I suspect they're secretly criminal masterminds. No sane person can be that into plants and flowers.”

  Daniels now ignored her. She could almost feel him rolling his eyes at her. Maybe extracting emotion from him wouldn't be as difficult as she first anticipated.

  “We should check out that farmhouse as well,” Milton informed her with little emotion. He obviously didn't care for her jovial personality either.

  Milton was almost as stiff as Daniels was, she thought. She was two for two. She held out little hope that Anderson would be less pompous and even remotely interesting. She was also sure he'd hate her too. Jetta didn't know which one of The Three Stooges turned her on most. They were equally stiff, boring as hell, and void of personality. She was beginning to think those qualities were a job requirement--along with the cheap suits and bad haircuts.

  “You know, I can get into all this cloak-and-dagger superspy stuff, but what exactly is it you're looking for?” she finally asked. “You're certainly not looking for any missing person.”

  Daniels glared his irritated response. She caught his look and concentrated on her flying.

  “Minding my own business,” Jetta muttered.

  †

  The sheriff's cruiser drove along Millers Road with the lights flashing. It pulled up to a wrecked car that had apparently swerved from the road and struck a tree head on. Palmer and Styles got out of the cruise and approached the mangled car. The driver's side door was open and there appeared to be no one inside. Palmer paused before the open door. There was blood on the steering wheel and more on the seat. As Styles investigated the skid marks on the road, Palmer walked to the front of the car and looked over it. He lowered himself to the driver's side headlight. There was dried blood on the broken headlight. A shadow loomed over him. He straightened and turned, nearly colliding with Styles. Palmer jumped with surprise then shook his head.

  “I wish you wouldn't sneak up on me,” Palmer retorted. The sheriff was a little on edge after the frustrating morning he'd had. He also had too many unanswered questions over the last twenty-four hours, and his disgust was starting to show.

  “I wasn't sneaking,” Styles protested, although his tiny smirk suggested he may have been. “Judging by the skid marks on the road, I'd say the car swerved to avoid something. Never even had a chance to hit the brakes.”

  “I'm guessing he was avoiding a deer,” Palmer replied and indicated the bloodstain on the headlight. “Didn't exactly miss though.”

  “What happened to the driver?”

  Palmer returned to the open door with Styles directly behind him. “Looks like Roger was hurt in the crash. I'm guessing someone came upon the accident and picked him up. Probably took him to Doc.”

  Styles stared inside the car over Palmer's shoulder. “Kind of strange.”

  “What's that?”

  “There's no damage done to the inside of the car, yet there's so much blood.”

  Palmer looked at the door window then the steering wheel and appeared bewildered. “You're right, that is strange. We'll radio Rosemary and have her call Doc. See if someone took Roger to his office.”

  “You'd think if someone did take him to Doc, he would have informed us about the accident by now,” Styles said. “I mean, the crash must have happened at least an hour ago by the looks of the blood.”

  “This day is starting to give me a rash,” Palmer muttered while frowning.

  †

  Jetta stood alongside the helicopter just outside Dennis Albright's house and again attempted to make a call on her cell phone. The same static-filled humming sound was heard. She shut her phone with disgust and wondered if her cell phone issues were directly related to whatever it was those government types were looking for. She watched the three men poke around outside the house before entering. They were suspicious to say the least. What they were looking for or expecting to find was a mystery to her. She suspected they didn't even know what they were looking for. Sheriff Palmer should have been the one baby-sitting them, and she resented him just a little for pawning them off on her. There was no denying he was a devious man. She sometimes felt he did these things to her on purpose. It possibly had something to do with the admiral fleecing the good sheriff in poker nearly every time he returned home. Palmer was a sore loser when it came to cards. Sadly, the admiral was a gloating winner; and Hunter enjoyed egging both on. She was suddenly nostalgic for poker night. Jetta looked at her watch, groaned softly, and rolled her eyes. It was going to be a long day. She reached into the helicopter and removed her radio.

  “This is Eagle One to the sheriff's office,” Jetta said into the radio. “Do you copy?”

  There was a lot of static on the radio, which she rarely experienced. “Yeah, Jetta,” Rosemary in dispatch responded. “What can I do for you, honey?”

  “Hey, Rosemary, where's Sheriff Palmer? This high-profile baby-sitting job is trying my last nerve.”

  “He's investigating a crash on Millers Road,” came Rosemary's reply.

  “Millers Road? I'm near Millers Road at the Albright house,” Jetta informed her. “I didn't see any crash.”

  “It's a few miles from the tavern. Near the shoreline.”

  “Near my house?” Jetta suddenly asked and appeared curious. “Roger that. Tell Sheriff Palmer I'm about two seconds from tossing these three into Millers Pond. If he wants the
m alive, he'd better contact me ASAP.”

  “Roger that, honey, and good luck,” Rosemary teased. Her giggle was an added insult.

  “Over and out,” Jetta said with a groan.

  Anderson hurried from the house with the meteor in his gloved hands. Milton and Daniels hurried after him onto the porch and removed a biohazard box from one of the duffel bags. Jetta watched them gently place the rock into the biohazard box and then stash it in the duffle bag in an unsuccessful attempt to conceal the box from her prying eyes. Biohazard box? Jetta wondered what was so important about that rock that it required a biohazard box. Did a rock have something to do with Sheriff Palmer's missing persons? There couldn't be any connection. That wouldn't make sense. They quickly approached the helicopter with their bags and seemed excited with their find. Jetta tried to make sense of what she had just witnessed.

  “We need you to take us to the sheriff's office,” Daniels informed her.

  That was an excellent idea, Jetta thought. Let Sheriff Palmer deal with them.

  †

  The helicopter landed on the upper level of the empty parking garage in town not far from the sheriff's office. All three men got out. Daniels removed the duffle bag containing the biohazard box. Jetta watched them while turned sideways on her seat half out of the helicopter. She was happy to be rid of them, although she was wondering why they didn't remove the other three duffle bags in the back.

  “Wait here for us,” Daniels ordered.

  Wait here? She thought her baby-sitting job was finished. Jetta was quickly losing patience with them. “I'd love to spend the day flying you boys around on your covert mission, but I need to check on my friend,” Jetta firmly insisted.

  “So--call him,” Daniels informed her.

  “My cell phone doesn't work,” she snapped.

  How quickly men with Ph.Ds. seemed to forget the little things. Anderson removed his cell phone, pressed in a code, and handed it to her. Jetta studied the cell phone then looked at the men hurrying away from her.

  “I have to refuel back at the hanger,” she called after them.

  “Be back in half an hour,” Daniels said firmly as they hurried inside the parking garage elevator.

  Jetta shook her head as she climbed back into the helicopter and studied Anderson's cell phone. “Yeah, I'll be back,” she muttered to herself. “After I make a quick stop.”

  †

  Hunter and Desmond sat on the deck at Admiral Cross' beach house while drinking hot tea. They sat a long time in silence and watched the ocean while a warm, salty breeze blew past them. Although Hunter appeared sedated, he was alert and painfully aware of the earlier events in the hotel kitchen. He was troubled by his actions and still attempted to make sense of them. He remembered hitting Desmond, which was troubling enough, but he was more alarmed that he pulled Bishop's gun on him. He remembered feeling justified at the time, which scared him. He questioned whether he would have felt equally justified if he had pulled the trigger. He couldn't bring himself to look at Desmond. He was Jetta's best friend, and he struck him without regard, and at the time, without remorse. The things he said to him were cruel and disrespectful to someone he considered a friend. Hunter knew Desmond's ego was fragile enough without him destroying it altogether. He wasn't sure how he would correct the situation or if Desmond would even consider forgiving him. He knew he'd have to say something soon. The silence was becoming unbearable.

  “I'm sorry I hit you this morning,” Hunter said softly.

  “Barely even felt it,” Desmond teased.

  Hunter eyed him while raising his brow in question then smiled and chuckled softly. Maybe Desmond was tougher than he thought. Desmond grinned in response. Apparently, their friendship was still intact, allowing Hunter to relax.

  “Sheriff Palmer is pissed, huh?”

  “Yeah, but that's his natural state,” Desmond informed him. “I wouldn't worry too much about it.”

  “I wasn't, actually. For as often as he cheats at poker, he's lucky this is the first time he's been hit.”

  Desmond grinned and chuckled. Jetta's helicopter was heard approaching. Both looked at the sky with anticipation. The helicopter gracefully skimmed the coast then landed on the beach. Hunter and Desmond shielded their eyes from the blowing sand. As the helicopter shut down, they hurried toward it. Jetta jumped out as Desmond and Hunter approached. She was relieved that Hunter wasn't too heavily sedated.

  “Are you okay?” Jetta asked him.

  Hunter pulled her into his arms and held her against him. “I'm so sorry about this morning. Can you forgive me?”

  “Why?” Jetta asked with a humored laugh while pulling back to meet his gaze. “You certainly kiss a hell of a lot better than Ziggy.”

  Hunter smiled and released her. Two for two. He had good friends. Of course, he'd need to check into this Ziggy kissing her business. He was familiar with Ziggy's reputation. He was extremely popular with the ladies, and that wasn't the sort of man he'd approve for Jetta.

  “You should have called,” Desmond announced. “I would have picked you up at the hanger.”

  “I'm still on the clock,” she replied with disgust. “It was hard enough getting away from our government friends.” Jetta tossed Anderson's cell phone to Desmond. “Can you hack this?”

  “No problem.”

  “I'd love to know why their cell phones work and none of ours do,” she said.

  “Isn't cutting off communication one of the first rules of engagement?” Desmond asked.

  “That's take no prisoners,” Hunter casually informed him.

  Desmond cast a glare at Hunter. “I sometimes think that's the only rule you know,” he scoffed.

  Hunter grinned and raised his brows suggestively. Jetta motioned for Hunter to follow her. He walked with her to the back of the helicopter. She opened the door and unzipped one of the duffel bags to expose automatic weapons. Hunter appeared surprised then smiled with boyish glee.

  “But I didn't get you anything.”

  “Okay, genius, tell me what these government types are up to,” she announced.

  Hunter rummaged through the bags and examined several items with fascination. “Best guess?” he remarked. “They're preparing for a shock and awe. Night vision goggles; bad boy assault toys--” Hunter grinned and removed a rocket launcher. He caressed it lovingly. “Hmm, I think I'm in love.”

  “Yeah, put it back.”

  Hunter frowned and returned it to the bag, since it obviously wouldn't fit in his pocket. He played with several gismos he found within the bag and appeared fascinated with each one.

  “The phone is encrypted,” Desmond informed her while approaching and shaking his head. “Your friends are not exactly the trusting type. I'll need to get my laptop back at the hotel in order to hack it. Can I keep this?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Jetta looked back at Hunter as he dug around inside the bags. She motioned him out of the duffel bags and cursed herself for not knowing better. It was a bad idea letting him into them in the first place. “I have to go. They're probably waiting,” she announced then indicated Desmond to Hunter. “Keep Desmond out of trouble.”

  Hunter offered a humored smile as she climbed back inside the helicopter. As the helicopter started, Hunter and Desmond hurried away to avoid the flying sand. Both men returned to the deck and watched her fly back toward town. Hunter hid his boyish grin while concealing something in his pocket. He figured it was Jetta's fault. She knew him well enough to know she should have checked his pockets. He was ashamed to admit he actually enjoyed when she frisked him. It was one of those moral dilemmas with which he often struggled. How mad would she really get? He needed a new toy anyway. Desmond slipped the cell phone into his jacket pocket and looked at Hunter, who was preoccupied with his coveted new toy.

  “Are you coming with me?” Desmond asked.

  Hunter looked at Desmond and maintained his casual appearance. When he was up to something, it was often hard to tell. It came from years of pr
actice. Desmond was always easily fooled. He was far too trusting.

  “Am I allowed to stay here by myself?” Hunter asked casually. If he wanted to play with his new toy, he needed to get rid of Desmond.

  “I'm comfortable leaving you here.”

  “Then I'll stay. I'm a little tired.”

  “I'm trusting you,” Desmond warned him while wagging his finger for added effect. Obviously his first mistake. “Jetta will have my ass if you burn the house down.”

  “God, she has you whipped,” Hunter scoffed while rolling his eyes.

  Desmond glared at him and appeared offended by the remark. “Look who's talking.”

  Hunter considered the comment and grinned. “Touche.”

  †

  The helicopter lowered to the upper level of the parking garage in town square. Jetta saw her tour group waiting impatiently near the elevator minus their precious, cleverly hidden biohazard box. She was only ten minutes late. Considering how devious she had been in the last forty minutes, she made good time. Jetta jumped out and offered her best fake, apologetic smile. Smiling at her enemy while deceiving them came a little too easy for her.

  “Sorry, I had to visit the little girl's room.”

  That actually wasn't a lie. She had stopped there too. Judging by their disapproving looks; they either didn't believe her or simply didn't care. It was evident they were irritated that she put them behind schedule, although their schedule seemed sketchy at best. Anderson seemed to realize his phone was missing and gave her a bewildered look.

  “Where's my phone?” he asked.

  “Oh, uh?” Jetta patted her pockets then put on a false look of alarm. “The sink in the ladies room,” she said with a soft groan.

  Anderson frowned his disapproval.

  “I could run back to the hanger and get it,” Jetta offered. There was no telling what sort of trouble she could get herself into if they gave her another thirty minutes.