by Chris Niles
Coco guided the car against the curb at Departures, pulled his cousin’s small roller bag from the trunk, then wrapped her in a hug and kissed both cheeks. As he pulled away, his hands tightened on her shoulders. “He makes me so mad. Your papa.”
She bit her lip. “You need to be careful around Javier.”
“I’m bigger than him.”
“Not physically, Coco. I mean…” She paused. “Javier fights with his brain. With his plans. Right now, he’s fighting with me.”
Coco tensed.
“It’s okay. I know. I know how to win this fight.” She stroked his arm. “But you. You need to keep it secret that you’re helping me. If he knows, he’ll find a way to hurt you, and you’ll never see it coming.”
Coco started to object.
“No, I mean this. Today, I need you to go talk to my papa. Go when Javier is there. In his office. He needs to see this, but do not invite him to join you. Do you understand?”
Coco’s brow knotted together, but he nodded.
“Go talk to my papa and apologize to him for offering to help me. Tell him that you misunderstood what he was asking Javier to do, and tell him that you are going to focus on the raids.”
He pushed his hand through his thick, dark hair.
“If he asks where I went, tell him you don’t know. Tell him I made you drive me to the airport but I wouldn’t tell you anything more. You got all that? Repeat it back to me.”
Gloria watched her cousin carefully as he recited the talk-track, correcting a few details and running it through until he had it without stumbling.
“Okay, now, I need to catch my flight. You go back and do good today. I love you.” Gloria stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed her cousin on the cheek, then stalked into the airport without looking back just as the sun climbed above the ridge and filled the valley with light.
Six hours later, she stepped out onto the arrivals deck at Miami International Airport. Moments later, Gloria climbed into the back seat of a black Town Car. She reached forward, adjusting the stream of cold air blowing from the vent in front of her.
The driver, a solid, squat woman in her thirties with short blonde hair lifted her suitcase into the trunk, then slid into the front seat and spun to greet her boss.
“Patrona. You look great. How was the flight?”
“Lies do not look good on you, Skip. I look tired. But there is time for a short nap, no?”
The American shrugged. “Yes, you can rest on the drive. Traffic is terrible this time of day. Any time of day, really. There’s bottled water back there for you, too.”
Gloria opened the tiny cooler, snapped the cap off a plastic bottle, then glanced back up at the woman.
“You didn’t have to come all this way, Miss Rojas.”
Gloria’s throat clenched.
“Coco sent me the order. I’ve started all the normal searches. Every broker in the southeast is on notice. Now it’s just a matter of waiting.”
“Remember your place. He’s Señor Solarte to you. And I do not pay you to wait. Why are you here and not in front of your computer?”
“Alerts. I’m on it.” The woman waved her phone, then met Gloria’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “We have the courier who was supposed to meet Ellis at the airport, but so far we haven’t gotten any useful information about the shipment. She’s in the wind.”
Blood pounded through Gloria’s ears like a white-water rapids deep in the mountains, drowning her thoughts under the crashing surf. “Then you’re not asking the right questions. Take me to the driver.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The car eased away from the curb and into the thick river of traffic.
Chapter Seventeen
“Mind if we stop for lunch? I heard about this great little place that’s tucked away on a little channel on the south side of the highway.”
At Tony’s mention of food, Kate’s stomach rumbled, nearly drowning out the sound of the truck’s engine.
“You wouldn’t even know it was there if you didn’t know it was there. Jamaican chef is old as the hills, and locals say it’s the best hogfish in the Keys.”
Kate shrugged. “Sure thing. I’m starving.”
Tony whipped down a narrow lane nearly hidden by a thick stand of gumbo limbo and Australian pines then parked his truck.
As they approached the restaurant, Kate shivered, a warm deja vu washing over her. But throughout the middle Keys, most of the little dive bars and restaurants like this one had a familiar look.
When Kate stepped through the front door, she gasped. “As I live and breathe… Billy Rainwater!”
She scurried up to a tall man sitting at the bar and wrapped him in a hug. The man stiffened, then awkwardly returned the embrace before pushing her back to arm’s length and nodding. Then Rusty Thurman, a short fireplug of a man and the owner of the Rusty Anchor Bar and Grill, scooted around from behind the bar, spun her into a bear hug of his own, then handed her back to Billy.
“Kate Kingsbury, what brings you to Marathon?”
She stammered a moment, then settled on the thinnest version of the truth. “Just passing through on the way home from the mainland. Heard the hogfish here was good. Didn’t recognize the place from the street.”
Billy nodded, then looked up to the man sitting to his right in a faded tee shirt with a winged symbol inside a circle on its breast pocket. The man hopped down from his stool and stretched his hand out. “Jesse McDermitt. Nice to meet you.”
Kate turned. “This is my friend, Tony Bowden.”
She watched Jesse’s gaze flit to the tattoo peeking out from under Tony’s sleeve, then the two men traded a nod and turned back to Billy while Kate began to ramble.
“Tony, Billy’s the one who helped Kara and me find that Taíno idol up in the Everglades last year. He brought us back down here from Fort Myers by boat.”
“How is your two-spirit friend?”
“She’s doing well. The summer has been a little slow at the club, but it’ll pick up as the tourists come back.”
“And the dog? My father was so moved by your visit, I got him a dog of his own.”
“Oh, that’s great news, Billy. I’m glad to hear it. Whiskey is good. Chasing lizards and fetching driftwood. He just didn’t make this trip with us.”
They traded a couple more pleasantries, then Rusty led them to a table near the window under an AC vent that was blowing its hardest against the mid-day heat.
“A beer and whatever the chef recommends.” Tony handed the menu back to Rusty without looking at it.
Kate glanced up at Rusty and nodded. “And I’ll have the same.”
As the man hustled back to the kitchen, Tony and Kate leaned across the table and spoke in low voices.
“Kate, I don’t think we’re going to be able to take care of this ourselves.”
“But the cops—”
“I don’t mean the cops. The cops weren’t interested when they thought she’d found a one-night stand. Or two nights. Or three… But this is something different altogether. If she’s running drugs, they’re going to want to look deeper into this. And there’s an alphabet soup of federal agencies that will want to dip their toes in this pool, too. It’ll be an epic cluster, and chances of getting Shelby back alive are pretty slim. But my friend from Boca Chica may be able to help.”
Kate jumped at the sound of a chair scraping beside her. She looked up to see Jesse standing there, beer in hand.
“Mind if I join you a minute?”
Tony nodded, his brow furrowed.
“First of all, you two aren’t the quietest.”
Tony’s head pulled back.
“Well, not you. Her.” Jesse turned to Kate. “Words like cops and drugs get a lot of attention around these parts. And not the kind you want.” He turned back to Tony. “Now you, I know you can handle yourself. But you’re one man. And no matter which operation you’re up against, it’s an army. These are not people you want to be mixed up with.”
To
ny nodded. “Good copy. I just wish we had a choice.” He looked Jesse up and down. “We don’t know the full extent of what we’re dealing with here, but you know this area and the folks operating here, right?”
Jesse bobbed his head. “Been here a while. I know a few people.”
“We think our friend has been carrying for someone. She went missing a few days ago, and her little boy is… I’d just hate to see him grow up without a mama, you know?”
Jesse’s eyes softened. “Yeah. No one deserves that. But I’m telling you. You need to give this to the authorities. This is not a fight you can win. And … how long has she been gone? More than a day, right? I hate to say it, but she’s probably already dead. And if she’s not, she probably wishes she was.”
Rusty returned to the table with two sweating glasses of beer. He plunked them on the table, then patted Jesse’s shoulder. “Listen to him.” Then he turned and ambled back to the kitchen.
Tony sipped his beer then leveled his gaze at Jesse. “I hear you, brother. But if a man had no say in the matter. If it was, say, an assignment? Where would you start?”
“A solo assignment? I’d resign.” Jesse emptied the beer down his throat and returned to the bar.
“I should have known better. Who gets tangled up in an operation like this? Who runs out on their own kid?”
Kate snarled, slamming her beer on the table. Tony wiped his mouth but missed a small hunk of fish embedded in his closely trimmed beard.
Kate reached across the table, picked it from between the stiff whiskers, then dropped it on a sweaty cocktail napkin beside her glass.
“Back in school, Nick taught me to never believe the first thing anyone told me. I’ve gone soft, Tony. And now we’re backed into a corner.” She picked up her hogfish sandwich and waved it at him. “I admire Chuck for always wanting to believe people. To take care of them. To let them have their secrets. But for the love of all that’s holy, I should have seen this one coming.”
Tony leaned back in his chair and gently cocked his head to the side. It was all Kate needed to fuel the hot rage growing in her chest.
“People are trash, Tony. All of ’em.” She pointed around the room. “I bet every person in here’s got some secret that’d end life as they know it if it got out. Every one of ’em’d choose their own comfort over someone else’s well-being. Every one—”
Suddenly, Tony’s hands swatted at the air, palms down, while his head swiveled toward the bar. A heavy man with a thick beard and a confederate flag on his hat leaned across the bar. To one side, Kate noticed Billy and Jesse perched at the edge of their barstools, still appearing casual, but their feet deliberately set solidly on the wood floor. Tony traded a quick glance with Jesse, then casually rose from his chair and started toward the restroom, flanking the man from the right. Despite the looming threat, Kate relaxed in the face of a manageable conflict in capable hands.
Behind the bar, Rusty’s arm flew through the air and his face grew red. Finally, he stopped, finger pointed toward the door.
The man’s gaze darted around the room, resting on Jesse and Billy to one side and Tony to the other. He slammed both fists on the bar, then shouted “You ain’t seen the end of this, Thurman.” Then he shoved past Tony and stormed out.
All four men relaxed, and Tony sidled up to the bar.
Rusty waved a beer bottle toward Tony, but Tony shook his head. “Thanks, man, but I’m driving. One’s my limit. But I’ll take a water, if you please?”
Kate joined them at the bar and nudged Tony. “See?”
Tony just shook his head and turned to Rusty. “What was that all about?”
Rusty shook his head. “His dumbass boy was workin’ here last season, but I caught him dealin’ weed out the kitchen door so I fired him on the spot. Since then, Daddy’s been comin’ in here every now and then threatening to report old Rufus to ICE. I keep tellin’ him he ain’t illegal, but that old boy ain’t never seen a foreign accent he thinks belongs here.”
Billy shrugged. “I’d be interested to climb up his family tree. Guarantee my people were here long before his.”
Kate turned to Tony. “Billy’s father is the last of the Calusa chieftains, and his mother was Seminole.”
Tony nodded toward Billy, and Billy returned the gesture. Kate wondered how men could seem to communicate everything they needed to without speaking a word. Then Rusty opened his mouth, and her theory was shot to hell.
“Thanks to all of you. I been dealin’ with him, and I’ll continue to, but sometimes a little show of force is just what’s needed to get the point across.” He passed fresh beers up to Billy and Jesse, cracked a water bottle for Tony, then glanced up at Kate, eyebrows raised.
“Just a water for me, thanks. Did Rufus make that hogfish? Rumor said it’s the best in the Keys, and I was not disappointed.” Kate took the bottle from Rusty then gulped half of it down. “Got a little kick to it, though.” She grinned and elbowed Tony. “We’re gonna need to get back on the road soon.”
They said their goodbyes and nice-to-meet-you’s and paid the check with a handsome tip added on. Ten minutes later, Kate and Tony were heading west on Highway One, easing their way across the Seven Mile Bridge, when Tony’s phone rang.
Kate pressed the answer button on the fancy dashboard display screen and Chuck’s voice blasted from the truck’s speaker system without any preamble.
“The sloth is missing. We can’t find it anywhere on this island.”
Chapter Eighteen
Kate crouched on Serenity’s deck, one arm wrapped around Eddie’s shoulders. With the other, she pointed toward the widening spit of land sprawling in the pale water off the starboard bow.
“You know, there was buried treasure on that island. I found it myself.”
“Miss Kate, pirates aren’t real. Mama said so.”
“I didn’t say it was pirate treasure, did I?”
Eddie’s eyes widened. “What other kind of treasure is there?”
Kate grinned. “There’s lots of kinds of treasure. There’s buried pirate treasure, of course. Then there’s shipwrecks. I found one of those a few months ago, too. And there’s stuff people just want to hide from other people. I’ve found a little bit of that too, but other people find lots more.”
“You find lots of stuff, Miss Kate.”
Kate shrugged. “I guess I sort of do. Maybe I can help you find Slothie?”
The little boy tensed. “Can you find my mama, instead?”
Kate dropped onto the thinning green outdoor carpet on her deck and pulled Eddie into her lap. “I’m trying, buddy.”
Eddie squirmed out of her embrace then ran to the front rail as the engine dropped to an idle and the boat slowed. “Where was the treasure you found here?”
“Well, in the middle of the island, behind the beach there and then all those trees, there’s a little lagoon. And it’s all muddy and the trees around all the edges have these deep tangly roots that reach into the water, and if you grab on them too hard, they’ve got these little sharp edges that’ll slice your finger right open.”
“Dang, Kate, are you trying to give the kid a tree-phobia now?” Chuck hollered from the helm. “Hate to interrupt you, but can you give the anchor a toss and let out maybe fifty feet of rode? Tide’ll be turning out soon, and we need to be able to swing clear when it does.”
Kate grunted as she shoved the anchor off the little lip on Serenity’s bow then counted as it dropped to the sandy bottom and Chuck eased the hulking houseboat backward.
“Fifty!” Kate shouted. Chuck nudged the boat forward to slack the rode. Kate quickly secured it to a cleat, waved to Chuck, then she heard the transmission clunk back into reverse as Chuck backed down hard on the anchor to set it in the sand.
Then he killed the engine and the air filled with the silence of the backcountry. Water gently lapped against the flat hull, distant seagulls squawked as they hunted for their next meal, and across the glassy water, the island’s leaves whispe
red their secrets to the breeze.
Serenity anchored at the mouth of a shallow, horseshoe-shaped cove on the west side of Mallory Key, an uninhabited island north of Saddlebunch. The summer before, Kate had discovered the little island by following a mysterious map she’d discovered in a first edition Hemingway novel. Since then, she’d come out here often in Chuck’s skiff for quiet getaways and sunny picnics. She and Tony had even kayaked out here on a particularly calm day. But this was the first time she’d come out here with her whole house, and a house-full of people at that.
Topside, Tony sat on the upper deck with a friend of his Kate only knew as “Fish” who was currently stationed at the naval base on Boca Chica. Whiskey lay curled on the deck between them. Babette lay with her feet stretched out on Kate’s sofa, chatting softly with Chuck as he’d piloted Kate’s houseboat through the unmarked channels and cuts he’d traveled since he could steer a skiff.
Chuck had grown up on these waters, and he’d taught Kate to love them, too. Now, in whatever time they had with him, they all wanted to show Eddie the kind of life that was possible out here away from the noise and haze of the city.
“Look.” Kate pointed to a small school of bright grunts glittering below the bow.
A hollow thunk followed by a splash caught Kate’s ear off the boat’s port rail. A bright red inflatable dinghy floated beside them, its painter in Tony’s hand up on the top deck. Still holding the rope, Tony shimmied down the ladder then pulled the inflatable against the hull and began to load it up with picnic supplies.
Fish climbed down behind him, stripped off his shirt, then carefully set his flip-flops inside the salon door beside the built-in sofa. He peered over Chuck’s shoulder at the helm, then bolted across the bow, vaulted the rail, rolled in the air, and landed flat on his back on the water with a smack. A huge splash of salt water launched into the air around him, drenching Eddie, who stood at the front rail.
