Madison Westin 02-Deception in Paradise

by Deborah Brown

  “Hey, I’m not asking one single question to anyone about Alexander Byce. Is that clear enough?”

  “Why not?”

  “You start with the questions, and you’re going to become worm food.” He shook his finger at me. “I’ll die when I’m good and ready, and it won’t be this week.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Think quick. In the meantime, you’d better learn to walk with one eye looking over your shoulder. Tell me you’re going to stop all the questions. Both Byces will find out,” he warned. “You’re on your own.”

  “You can’t desert me now.”

  “If you die, I might have to move.”

  “Don’t you want to know what really happened to Pavel?”

  “No.” He covered his ears with his hands. “La, la, la.”

  After he stopped chanting, I asked, “Does Alex deal?”

  “There’s talk, but he doesn’t deal at the street level. I’m not saying…” He hesitated. “I’ve heard when he gets in a shipment, he puts out the call to his distributors, and they show up within the hour. Drugs gone, stacks of cash left behind, business closed.”

  “That’s efficient. If there’s talk, why hasn’t he been arrested?”

  “The family’s powerful. The cops will continue to turn a blind eye until they’re forced into action by someone at the top of the police food chain.”

  “Thanks.” I stood to leave.

  “When are you getting rid of the big butthole next door? After everyone else has moved out?”

  “He’s gone in two weeks.”

  “I’m marking my calendar.”

  Before leaving, I peeked out the window. Seeing no one, I waved at Joseph and slipped outside. I cut around the backside of his cottage, down a small path, and out to the beach.

  CHAPTER 37

  “Zach is having me followed,” I told Fab. I sat at my kitchen counter with a bowl of caramel ice cream, made healthy by adding fresh raspberries and a touch of whipped cream. The can said only fifteen calories.

  “Then this is a bad idea.” She picked out one of the raspberries, ran it through the whipped cream, and devoured it.

  “It’s your job to make it a good one.” I had to eat my raspberries fast, or they’d be gone.

  “You owe me again.”

  “Stop with that. Friends don’t owe friends.”

  “I knew this friend thing would come back to bite me.”

  “Leave, and I’ll turn off the lights. Pick me up down by the hourly motel. Make sure you’re not followed.” I went out the French doors and cut through my neighbor’s yard to a narrow pathway that only residents knew about. I kicked off my shoes and ran down the beach.

  “News from Kevin,” Fab said, as I slid into the passenger seat. “The DVD had an abnormality in it and has been discredited.”

  “Now what?”

  “There’s more. Kevin said he was ordered by his superior to stay out of it. Kevin knows we’re telling the truth, but he doesn’t want to get involved. He lives in this town. In a couple of hours, we’ll have all the evidence we need to prove what we’re saying. What about your promise to stay out of it?”

  “After tonight, I won’t drive by these docks every day.”

  Fab looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “You come down here every day? Someone had to see you.”

  “I didn’t turn down the one-way road. I parked across the channel and used binoculars.”

  “What’d you find out, Sherlock?” Fab asked.

  “Sarcasm is unnecessary.” I paused. “Nothing, but it made me feel like I was doing something. I hate waiting.”

  “I bet you opened your Christmas presents early.”

  “You bet I did. I was in college before I dropped that bad habit. What about you?”

  Fab looked a little sad. “I didn’t bother. I never got what I wanted, anyway. I got what my parents wanted me to want.”

  “I’ve had a few of those gifts, and they blow.”

  “We’re parking here and walking back.” Fab pointed at a small parking lot in front of a deserted section of the docks. “I’m planting a bug in the phone, and one under his desk.” She held up a boat figurine. “This is a camera, so we can listen and watch from my laptop.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “A few minutes. If we get separated, we’ll meet back here.”

  “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”

  We cut across someone’s backyard. Music blared from the opposite corner of the house next to an overgrown vacant lot. I was happy I had changed into sweatpants. They kept the skin on my legs from being ripped off by the waist-high weeds and concealed the Glock holstered at the small of my back. We’d figured out the delivery schedule, and the path where we stood ended at the back corner of the warehouse.

  Fab turned the knob on the steel door. I was surprised when the door opened. Fear shot through every muscle as I followed her inside.

  The only light in the warehouse came from an office at the back. The door stood open, male voices coming from inside.

  “What do we do now?” I whispered.

  “I say we get out of here,” Fab said.

  “Get out of my office,” a male voice shouted. “And close the door.”

  Fab pushed me behind some wooden crates. I stepped into the small space and Fab squeezed in beside me.

  Three men armed with automatic weapons walked down the stairs into the main warehouse. “He’s an asshole,” one of them said. They looked like triplets, dark hair, olive skin, and tattooed. What was it with the wife-beater shirts?

  “I’d love to kick his ass, but that’ll have to wait for another time.” All of them laughed.

  One of them hit a switch on the wall. The warehouse roll door started to go up, and all the lights came on. Alex Byce walked out of the office, a watered-down version of his father. Dressed in expensive shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, he looked like someone you’d see on the tennis courts of a country club, not a drug dealer.

  A speedboat approached the dock, but it was different from the white one we had seen. It was cranberry-colored and twice the size as the previous one.

  “That’s not the regular boat,” one of the men said.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got this under control.” Alex walked out to the dock.

  Fab clicked off a couple of pictures with her cell phone.

  “Who’s that woman over there?” One of them pointed at Fab. They all turned to look. One of them pulled his gun and shot at Fab.

  I drew my Glock and shot back, intentionally missing. I only wanted to give us time to get away.

  “Run.” Fab shoved me.

  “Why’s Alex getting on the boat?” Another one of them yelled.

  “I smell a setup. Let’s get the hell out of here.” The three men split up and took off in different directions.

  Fab disappeared, and I headed straight for an illuminated exit sign down a long corridor. Someone pushed me from behind. “Keep moving. We need to get out of here.” Creole grabbed my hand, and we ran to the door. He hit the long silver bar, shoving open the door. The building exploded. Creole and I went flying across the parking lot. I landed face down in the dirt with Creole next to me.

  “Are you okay?” Creole asked. He stood up, then picked me up, and set me on my feet. He kissed me gently on the lips, holding my face in his hands. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time, minus the explosion. Can you walk?”

  I demonstrated I could move my arms and legs. Where in the hell had he come from? “I broke all my bones.”

  He brushed the dirt off my clothes, spit on his fingers, and applied pressure to my cheek. “You’re bleeding; expect to feel sore for a few days. You took a hard hit.” He tipped my face to his. “Listen to me. Get out of here now, and don’t look back.”

  Tears filled my eyes. “I don’t know how.”

  He gave me a shake. “You can do this. Follow the chain-link fence over there.” He pointed to the left. “When
you get to the end, you’ll see the opening. Squeeze through, and you’ll be in a junkyard. There’s never anyone around there. Cut straight across and go over the fence; boxes are stacked for you to climb. Once you get to the top, it’s a short jump. Go home and mind your own business.”

  “My Glock is missing,” I said. “I don’t know what happened.”

  “You brought a gun to a gunfight?” He smiled. “That’s such a turn-on. Don’t worry. If it didn’t blow up, I’ll find it.”

  “Thank you.” I hugged him. “I want to come with you.”

  “You don’t want to be involved. I’m going to collect for this.” He gave me a long kiss. “I’ll be mad if you hurt yourself. Now go.”

  Adrenaline propelled me to the fence. Squeezing through wasn’t easy; ten pounds more, and I’d have been screwed. Another explosion rocked the ground, followed by a smaller one. Flames ripped through the roof of the warehouse, and sirens blared in the distance. I knew Fab would’ve gotten out, but she also needed to be one-step ahead of the police. If either of us were caught, what would we say? I didn’t know what Creole was doing there, and I didn’t care. I was beyond grateful, and I’d keep his secret.

  Surrounded by wrought-iron furniture pieces and sky-high piles of old metal cans, I had landed in junk heaven. I spotted an old wrought iron table with chipped white paint, circa 1940. I had to have the table and two of the pink rocking chairs.

  A dog barking brought my salivating over the finds to a halt. Or was it more than one? The teeth of the Doberman were the first thing I saw when it rounded an old pile of bicycles. Another one was right behind. Their heads were the size of melons. In front of me, sat an old pontoon boat, surrounded by wooden chicken feeders and mesh fishing traps. I jumped to the top of the pile, hurling myself into the back of the boat. I felt a sharp tug on the back of my tennis shoe, but managed to pull it away. My attacker stood, barking and growling, showing me all of his teeth. The other stood quieter, only letting out the occasional bark. The first dog jumped on the wire cage I had used to get inside the boat. The cage wobbled back and forth. I grabbed one of the old oars piled inside the boat and swung it in the air over his head. He backed up, fell off his perch, and continued to bark.

  I reached in my pocket for my phone, but it wasn’t there. Attack dog went around to the other side of the boat and jumped on a wooden box in another attempt to gain access. I picked up the oar again and hit the side of the boat to scare the dog. The oar splintered, the pieces landing at the dog’s feet. The dog jumped down, sniffed the wood, and sat down. His stare unnerved me, and I was the first to look away.

  Darkness wasn’t far off. I could see the other fence from where I stood, but I couldn’t possibly outrun the dogs. Screaming seemed futile. My body ached, and the aspirin I had taken earlier had worn off. Frustration overwhelmed me, and I started to cry. I said a short prayer that morning would come quick. I was certain Fab would come looking for me, but how would she know to look in an old junkyard?

  My hope was that the dogs would get bored and go back to where they came from, leaving me time to clear the fence. Instead, they settled on the ground, staring up at the boat. I had a bad feeling they were in for the long haul. I sat in the rotted captain’s chair. With several oars by my side and the help of the full moon overhead, I could keep an eye on the dogs until they went to sleep. I didn’t think it was possible to hurt as much as I did. It hurt to move, to sit still, and to think. My head banged with pain. I didn’t want to make a sound for fear of waking the dogs. I wouldn’t be able to fight off an attack, if one of them managed to get on board. I fell asleep despite myself, slipped out of the chair and slammed into the deck. Both dogs barked a few times, then lay back down. I gripped a rotted oar just in case.

  I sat on the floor in the corner of the boat and watched the beginning stages of daylight appear in the sky. The dogs looked fed and cared for despite their lack of hospitality, so I figured their owner would appear at some point. But how would I explain sleeping in the boat?

  “Princess! Duke! Time for breakfast!” a man called.

  The dogs jumped up, never looking my way, and ran around a corner and out of sight. I didn’t waste time. I grabbed an oar, sucked in my breath, and jumped to the footboard. My left foot missed and sent pain shooting through my body. I grabbed hold of the side bar to keep from falling on my face and slid to the ground.

  I paused to listen. Hearing nothing, I ran along the back fence. The crates were exactly where Creole had said they’d be. I stepped on the first one, testing it with my weight. When it appeared to hold, I scurried to the top and climbed down the other side of the fence.

  Running across an empty field, I headed for the street. Less than a block away was a convenience store, and I hoped I could get help there. Ignoring my pain, I snuck down the side street that paralleled the main highway, fearful of attracting attention.

  A walk that would’ve normally taken five minutes seemed to take forever as the adrenaline wore off, and I limped along. At least Princess or Duke hadn’t been able to take my shoe. The gas station sign was a welcome sight. Finally, I’d get help.

  “Gas only. Store’s closed,” a pimply-faced kid said over the intercom.

  “Would you make a local call for me so I can get a ride home?” I asked.

  “There’s a pay phone down the street.”

  “I buy my gas here all the time.”

  “Are you buying gas now?” He looked at the empty pumps.

  “I don’t have any money. My purse got stolen. If you could call for me, I’ll pay you when my ride gets here.” I hoped the stolen purse story would get me some sympathy.

  “You need to leave, or I’ll call the police.” His look told me he thought I was full of it.

  “I’ll pay you for the call.”

  “I’m calling the cops.” He held up a phone.

  The last thing I wanted was to explain to the cops why I was covered in dirt, with cuts, bruises, and dried blood on my arms and legs. I ran across the street, turned down a side street, and doubled back to sit on the porch of an empty house. I watched as a sheriff’s car pulled into the parking lot of the convenience store.

  “Little prick,” I mumbled.

  The sheriff parked and got out of his car. The clerk let him inside the store.

  I decided to split while the cop was inside the store. I refused to focus on the pain, and instead put my energy into not getting caught. I ran far enough down the street so they couldn’t see me crossing the road from inside the store. I ignored the No Trespassing sign in the parking lot of a seedy motel, cut across, and walked out onto to the beach. I sat behind a trashcan to catch my breath. No one walking by would see me unless they came very close. I would never make it the mile or so home on the soft sand; I’d need to walk down by the water.

  It had been a bad idea to sit down, as getting up was a painful ordeal. My muscles were screaming loudly in protest, and it was hard to ignore the pain. Thankful the beach was deserted at that early morning hour, I waded into the water, took off my top, and used it to wash off the dirt and blood. My shirt was dirty and stained, made even worse when I used it as a washcloth. I put my wet T-shirt back on and rolled up the legs of my sweats.

  I walked slowly, forcing myself not to sit down every other step and rest. Finally, the walkway I used from my house to the beach was just up ahead. Home was so close and I was too exhausted and sore to jump up and down or cry.

  CHAPTER 38

  I cut through the neighbor’s property, a rental, where no one had lived for a while.

  “What are you doing lurking around?” a voice said from behind me.

  I let out a scream and fell backward.

  Mr. Wicker’s bony hand shot out and grabbed my arm, pulling me upright. “Well?” He was my eighty-year-old neighbor, who lived on the other side. He always had a smile on his face, probably because he flirted with every woman on the block.

  “I’m trying to sneak into my house. I want to find out if
it’s full of people.”

  “Your mother’s there, that hottie friend of yours, the gangster-looking boyfriend, and some other man.”

  “How do you know all that?”

  “Who needs television when you live next door? Besides, all of them use this side path and go in the back way. Don’t they know where the front door is?”

  “I used to wonder the same thing. Now I rarely think about it.”

  “You look like crap.”

  I glared at him. “It’s been a very long night.”

  “You can’t stand out here all day.” He smiled. “If you don’t want to go home, you can come to my house.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I have to face them sometime.” I started down the path.

  “If you decide you want someone older and more stable, just let me know,” he called.

  A nosy neighbor could be a disaster, but I didn’t have time to worry about Mr. Wicker knowing who came and went from my house. I took a deep breath and tried not to limp as I entered through the French doors.

  “I’m home.”

  My mother, Fab, Zach, and Slice stood around the kitchen island, staring at me as if I were a ghost.

  “Madison,” Mother shrieked. “We thought you were dead.” She crossed the room and hugged me. “Where have you been?” Tears in her eyes.

  “Oww,” I said. “It’s been a long night.”

  “Glad to see you’re okay,” Zach said. The look on his face told me that was a big fat lie.

  “Don’t look so sad, Fabiana. I’m alive.”

  Fab ran around the island and threw her arms around me. “I would’ve never forgiven you if you’d died.”

  “What did you tell them?” I whispered.

  “Stop whispering, you two,” Zach said. “What the hell happened and where have you been?” He looked as though he were about to explode.

  I turned and gave him a weak smile. “I’m tired. Let’s talk later.” I wanted to run and hide.

  “You…” Zach started.

  Slice interrupted. “All of us thought you were dead.”

  Zach managed to calm down. “We know you were inside Byce’s warehouse when it exploded.”