Law and Disorder

by Heather Graham

  Kody nodded dully. Okay. She’d go back.

  He suddenly pulled her into his arms; she swallowed hard, looking up at him, seeing the emotion conflicting in his eyes.

  “I’ll keep you safe!” he vowed. “I’ll keep you safe!”

  “I know!” she whispered, hoping there was more courage in her voice than she felt.

  “I have to make this look real,” he told her.

  She felt the muzzle of his gun against her back. “Of course.”

  Dillinger was standing by the edge of the chickee hut ledge when they returned—watching for them.

  “My dear Miss Cameron! Foolish girl. Where were you going to go?” he asked.

  “She’s not going anywhere. She’s going to be by my side from here on out,” Barrow—or, rather, Nick Connolly—told him.

  “Let’s hope not. It’s getting late. We could all use a little sleep. Oh, but, please, don’t go thinking that my fellows are sweet on you, Miss Cameron, or that if I sleep, you can run again,” Dillinger said. “I wake at a whisper in the wind. You will not pull things over on me.

  “Not to mention...the coral snake doesn’t have much of a mouth span, but the bite can be lethal. There are pygmy rattlers out there and Eastern diamondbacks. And the cottonmouth. Nasty, all of them. Not to mention the pythons and boas. But, since I’m being honest here, I haven’t heard of anyone being snuffed out by one of them yet. There are the alligators and the crocs—mostly alligators where we are right now, but, hey, if you’re going to get mauled or eaten by an alligator or a croc, do you really care which one?”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Kody said. “You scared me. You scared me worse than the thought of a snake or an alligator or whatever else might be out here.” She inhaled air as if she could breathe in courage. So far, it seemed to work with him. “You have to stop. You got mad at your own man for nothing. You—you shot one of your own men.”

  “He betrayed the brotherhood,” Dillinger said.

  “I want us all to live. You want Vince and me to find your treasure. So quit scaring everyone so much and we’ll find your treasure.”

  Dillinger smiled and glanced at Barrow where he stood right behind her.

  “This one is a little firecracker, isn’t she?” Dillinger asked.

  “And you need her,” Barrow said softly. “And you do have your code of honor, Dillinger. None of these people has betrayed anyone, so let’s just let them be. Meanwhile it’s you, me and Floyd taking turns on guard. We’ll get some sleep.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Floyd, there’s some water and some kind of food bars on the airboat. Go get ’em.”

  “On it, boss,” Floyd said.

  Kody realized that she was desperately parched for water—and that she was starving, too.

  Barrow—Nick—walked around her, leaped up onto the platform and then reached a hand down to help her up.

  She accepted it.

  And when Floyd came with the water and power bars, she gratefully accepted those, as well.

  After she ate, she found herself curling into a little ball on the wooden platform. Vince was to her one side. Nick was to her other side, leaning against one of the support poles.

  “I’ll take the first hours,” Dillinger said. “Floyd, you’re up next.”

  Hours later, Kody realized she had fallen asleep. She opened her eyes and Nick was still by her side, sitting close beside her, awake, keeping guard. She could feel his warmth, he was so close, and it was good.

  The night had been cold, and she was scared, but she’d slept, knowing Nick Connolly remained at her side.

  She looked up at him. His eyes were open and he was watching her. She was startled to feel a flood of warmth streak through her.

  Of course, she remembered now when she had initially met him. Her reaction had been quite a normal one for a woman meeting such a striking man. He was really attractive with his fit build and dark blue, intense eyes. She’d had to hurry out that night at Finnegan’s, but she’d thought that maybe she’d see him again.

  Then life, work and other things had intervened.

  And now...

  He was good, she thought. Good at what he did. He had kept all the hostages alive so far. He had gotten many of them to safety.

  He was still a very attractive man. Even covered in Everglades’ mud and muck. With his broad shoulders and muscled arms he looked like security. Strength. And she was so tempted to draw closer to him, to step into the safe haven of those arms...

  What was she thinking? This had to be some kind of syndrome, she told herself. Kieran Finnegan would be able to explain it to her. It was a syndrome wherein women fell in love with their captors.

  No, she wasn’t in love. And he wasn’t really a captor. He was as G-man and he worked with Craig Frasier!

  “You okay?” he whispered.

  She nodded.

  “I will get you out of this.”

  “Yes...I believe you.”

  He nodded grimly.

  “Vince? Is Vince all right.”

  “Right now? He’s quite all right. Take a look.”

  Kody rolled carefully to take a look at Vince. He was actually snoring softly.

  She turned back to Nick. She nodded and offered him a small, grim smile.

  “Hey! You’re up, Barrow!” Dillinger suddenly called out.

  “Yep, I’m on it,” Nick called back to him.

  He stood. Kody saw that he’d never let go of his gun, that it was held tightly in his hands.

  It would be so easy! So easy for Nick just to walk over and shoot the man who was holding them all hostage, threatening their lives.

  But she saw the way that Dillinger was sleeping. His gun in his lap.

  The man even slept with his damned eyes open!

  Kody didn’t sleep again. She watched as the sun came up. It was oddly beautiful. The colors that streaked the sky were magnificent. Herons and cranes, white and colorful, flew to the water’s edge. Then nature called.

  She stood and saw that Floyd and Dillinger and Nick were all up. Nick had gone over to kick the fire out. There was little preparation to be made for them to move on, but they were obviously ready to go.

  She cleared her throat.

  “I...I need a few moments alone,” Kody said. “I need privacy.”

  “Don’t we all,” Dillinger said.

  “I’m serious. I need to take a little walk. As you’ve pointed out, there’s really nowhere for me to go. I insist. I mean it, or you can shoot me now!”

  Dillinger started to laugh. “Okay, Barrow, take Miss Cameron down a path. Give her some space—but not too much. You seem to be good at hunting her down, but we’re ready to move on and I don’t want to waste any time.”

  “Yeah, fine,” Nick said.

  “Don’t worry. Hey, I’m fine right here!” Vince said. “It’s a guy thing, right? No one cares about my privacy, huh?”

  They all ignored Vince.

  “Go. Move! There’s a trail there,” Nick told her.

  She walked ahead of him, aware that Dillinger was watching. Nick kept his gun trained on her.

  A great blue heron stood in her way. The bird looked at her a moment and then lifted into flight. It was beautiful...and it was all so wrong.

  Fifty feet out and into the trees, she turned and told Nick, “I really need privacy. I won’t go anywhere, I swear.”

  “Scream bloody murder if you need me,” he said and stopped.

  She’d really only need a few seconds—what they used to call necessary seconds for the nonexistent facilities out here—but she was one of those people who absolutely needed to be alone.

  The hammock was riddled with what they called gator holes—little areas of mud and muck dug out by gators when they tried to cool themselves off in summer. It was winter now, but the holes remained. One was full of water and she dared dip her hands in, anxious to pretend she was dealing with something that resembled normalcy and hygiene.

  She looked up, ready to
rise—and a scream caught in her throat.

  She was staring at a man. He had coal-dark eyes and long dark braids, and he was dressed in greenish-brown khaki jeans and a cotton shirt. He was, she knew, either Miccosukee or Seminole, and he was capable of being as silent as a whisper in the air.

  He quickly showed her a badge and brought his finger to his lips. “Tell Nick that Jason Tiger is here,” he said softly. Then he disappeared back into the brush by the gator hole.

  He might never have been there.

  Chapter Seven

  “Jason Tiger,” Kody said, whispering as she returned to Nick. “He showed me his badge!”

  Instead of taking her by the arm to lead her back, Nick reached down and pretended to tie his shoes. “Tiger?” he said. He didn’t know why he needed the affirmation. If Kody had said the name, she had certainly seen the man.

  His heart skipped a beat.

  He silently sent up a little prayer of thanks.

  He’d known Jason Tiger from years before, when they’d both attended the same Florida state university. Neither of them had been FBI then. Since then he’d seen Jason only once, just briefly, right before he’d gone undercover.

  The name Tiger signified one of the dominant clans of the Miccosukee. Jason had been proud to tell him that his family clan was that of William Buffalo Tiger, who was just recently deceased, and had been the first elected tribal chairman when the Miccosukee had been recognized as a tribe in the 1960s. Jason knew the Everglades as few others. He’d been recognized by the FBI for the contributions he’d made in bringing down murderers and drug lords—those who had used what Jason considered to be the precious beauty and diversity of the Everglades to promote their criminal activities.

  If Kody had seen Jason Tiger, they were going to be all right.

  Jason would be reporting to Craig and the county police and the tribal police and every other law enforcement officer out there.

  It was good.

  It was more than good; it was a tremendous relief. Jason was out there and Nick wasn’t working this alone anymore.

  He stood and grabbed her arm. “All right.” He nodded, knowing that was all the reassurance he could give her right now. Just fifty feet away, he felt Dillinger looking their way.

  He held her arm tighter as they returned to the chickee. He couldn’t show the relief he was feeling. He didn’t dare defy Dillinger as yet—not until they knew the whereabouts of the boy. And still, the lives of Kody and Vince were at stake.

  Kody wrenched free from his hold as they neared the airboat. He wasn’t prepared. She managed the feat easily.

  She walked over to Dillinger. He followed closely, ready to intervene.

  “I don’t care about the money or your treasure or whatever,” she told him. “I’m more than willing to help you find it and you are just welcome to it. But if you want my help—or Vince’s help—you better tell us where that little boy is. You kidnapped a kid. We’ve been out overnight now. That little boy is somewhere terrified, I imagine. Let him go, and I will dig from here until eternity to find the treasure for you.”

  Nick realized he was holding his breath, standing as tense as steel—and ready to draw on Dillinger or throw himself in front of Kody Cameron.

  But Dillinger laughed softly.

  He stared at Kody, obviously amused. “Wow. Hey, Vince, is that true? You don’t care about yourself, right? You’ll work yourself to the bone for me—if I tell you where the kid is, right? Yeah, Vince, you ready to throw your own life away for a kid you’ve never seen?”

  Vince didn’t answer. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, looking nervous.

  “Okay, Miss Cameron, you want to know where the kid is? He’s up in the northwest area, an abandoned crack house that’s ridiculously close to the fancy new theater they’ve got up there north of the stadium. So, there’s your kid. Yeah, it’s probably getting bad for him. He was a pain in the ass, you know. I had to tie him up and stuff a gag in his mouth. So, I’m going to suggest you find this treasure for me as quickly as possible. Then I’ll leave you where—if you’re lucky—some kind of cop will find you before the wildlife does. And you can tell the cops where to look. You happy now?”

  For a moment the air seemed to ring with his words. And then everyone and everything was silent, down to the insects.

  “Yes, thank you!” Kody snapped at last, and she hurried past Dillinger, ready to hop aboard the airboat.

  Dillinger studied Nick for a long moment. Nick was afraid he was on to something.

  Then Dillinger smiled. “I will get what I want!” he said softly.

  “I’m sure you will. I have to tell you, I’m confused. What the hell is the idea with the boy? I mean, we’re in the Everglades. The boy is in an abandoned crack house.”

  “If they find us—not an impossible feat, even out here—I may need to use that boy to get free,” Dillinger said.

  “You have hostages.”

  “And by the time we find the treasure, we may not,” Dillinger said. He shook his head, swearing. “Here we are, end of the road, the prize in sight. And I’m down at the finish line with you and Floyd, the two most squeamish crooks I’ve come across in a long career.”

  “I told you, I’m not in this to kill people. I never was. I like the finer things in life. I’ve been around, too. You can survive without killing people,” Nick said. “I’m also against the jail terms or the needle that can come with killing people.”

  “Ah, well, they can only stick a needle in once,” Dillinger said. “And we’ve already killed people, haven’t we?”

  “You killed Nelson. I sure as hell had no part in that. The hostages... Thanks to me, we’re not going to die because of them.”

  “Ah, but you did kill Schultz, didn’t you?” Dillinger accused him. “It’s so obvious, my friend. You’ve got a thing for the woman. Schultz was getting too close. You took care of him, huh?” Barrow asked, his grin broad—eerie and frightening—as he stared at Nick.

  And Nick was good at this, the mind game—delving into the psyche of criminals, following the trails of sick minds.

  But he wasn’t sure about Dillinger. Nick had studied this man. But, right now, he wasn’t sure.

  “You’ll never really know, will you?” he asked Dillinger quietly, and he was pleased to see a worried frown crease the man’s brow. Dillinger didn’t know; the man really didn’t know if Barrow would go ballistic on him or not.

  Pull a trigger—or not.

  It was good. It was very good to keep Dillinger off guard.

  “Thing is, no one has any idea who killed old Schultz. You shot Nelson in front of the hostages. Oh, yeah, so you don’t intend that Dakota and the young man should live, right? Well, start thinking anew. I’ll help make sure you get the hell out of here. But you aren’t killing that girl. You’ve got it right. I’ve got a thing for her. And she’s coming with me.”

  “And then what, you idiot?” Dillinger demanded angrily. “You’re going to just keep her? Keep her alive? You will rot in jail, you idiot.”

  “You’ll be long gone—what will you care?”

  “She’d better find what I want, that’s all I’ve got to say. You want her alive? She’d better find it.”

  Nick looked at the ground and then shook his head as he looked back up at Dillinger. “You want to know if I can be a killer? Touch a hair on her head. You’ll find out.”

  “Really?” Dillinger said, intrigued.

  “Yeah. Really.”

  With that he shoved his way past Dillinger and headed toward the airboat.

  In minutes, it seemed that they indeed flew, the craft moving swiftly across the shallow water and marshes of the Everglades.

  *

  “SUCH AN INTERESTING PLACE,” Dillinger said, “this ‘River of Grass!’ If one wants to be poetic, I mean. Imagine Anthony Green. Out here, in pretty good shape. But he’s out of ammunition and there are a dozen deadly creatures you can encounter in every direction—with no real
defense. Imagine being here. Deserted. Alone. With nothing.”

  Kody didn’t answer him or even respond, even though Vince looked at her nervously, apparently praying she had some clue as to what they were doing.

  They’d traveled for hours until she’d told them to stop. Now she held a map unfolded from the back page of one of the journals. She pointed in what she truly hoped was the right direction. “Anthony Green’s illegal liquor operation was out here, right on this hammock. When he had the place, he had workstations set up—chickees. But there was a main chickee where he set up a desk and papers and did his bookkeeping.”

  “Obviously, not here anymore, right?” Dillinger asked, eyes narrowed as he stared at her.

  “You’re sure this is the right place?” Floyd asked her.

  “I’m not sure of anything,” Kody said. “I know that there were four chickees and all the parts for having a distillery. I’m thinking that they were set about the hammock in a square formation, with the ‘cooking’ going on right in the middle by the water. Remember, land floods and land washes away. But I do think that we have the right hammock area...” She paused and looked over at Vince. “Right?”

  “The Everglades is full of hammocks,” Vince murmured. “Hardwood hammocks, with gumbo limbo trees, mahogany and more, and there are pine islands. Unless you really know the Everglades, it can all be the same.”

  “My sense of direction isn’t great,” Kody said. “But I believe that we did follow the known byways from the southern entrance to the park and that, if we were to continue to the north, we would come upon Shark Valley and Tamiami Trail. Naturally, we’ve really got to hope that this was the hammock. But—”

  “Great,” Floyd murmured. “We have to hope!”

  Kody ignored him. “Okay, so, the heating source they used was fire, but anything they might have used to create fire would have been swallowed up long ago into nature. But Green had a massive stainless-steel still and a smaller copper still—a present to Green from the real Al Capone—and other tools that were made of copper or stainless steel. If we can find even the remnants of any of the containers, we’ll know we’re in the right place.”