Unfamiliar Waters

by Andrew Grey

  His first partner, John Little—and if Garrett had called him Little John, he’d have ended up black-and-blue—always said, “We need proof. The truth doesn’t mean shit without it.” The words rang in Garrett’s ears over and over again. “The truth doesn’t mean shit without proof.”

  Great, and how was he supposed to get it? Sure, it was possible Aunt Phyllis and Fairfield might have gotten sloppy over the years and left something incriminating at the house, but that would be damned near impossible for him to get. Contrary to the movies, it was hard to break into a place one wasn’t familiar with, and all it took was one shout and everything was over, including his life, most likely.

  “Goddammit.” He had to do something. His guts twisted first one way and then another as he watched the beach, waiting for Nigel to make an appearance, hoping he was okay. Garrett thought of going back to watch the house again—or if he were honest with himself, to watch Nigel. The thought of him being hurt sent fire running through Garrett’s head, spreading out to sear his heart. He couldn’t allow anyone to hurt Nigel.

  “Okay. But what do I do?” he asked himself, hoping for an idea as he continued watching the beach. Garrett needed to devise some sort of plan. He was alone and had zero backup of any kind. Maybe he could take out both Fairfield and Phyllis, then pick up the pieces. But what if he was wrong? The possibility chilled him to the bone. One thing was clear: sitting here doing nothing wasn’t helping anyone.

  Garrett descended the stairs into the cabin and drank an entire bottle of water before opening some meal packets and eating as quickly as possible. He was going to need energy for the long haul.

  Once he’d finished devouring everything he could eat, Garrett grabbed a couple bottles of water and tossed the dinghy into the waves, climbed in, and made for shore.

  As he got out to haul the dinghy onto the sand, Nigel hurried up to him. Garrett jumped and then sighed with relief. “Glad you’re here,” he said, trying to sound normal, even as relief washed over him, followed by tension and a renewed worry. Just because Nigel was here now didn’t mean he was truly safe. “I figured I’d spend the day here rather than on the boat.” Finished securing the inflatable, he turned to Nigel, who was busy biting his lower lip. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. Fairfield is acting bossy, and Aunt Phyllis is nervous.” Nigel turned in the direction of the house. “She said it was best if we spent the day at the house. I didn’t want you to worry, so I climbed out the window and hurried over here.” He shrugged and then kissed Garrett quickly. “I have to go back, but I wanted to see you.” Nigel kissed Garrett once again and then raced back into the foliage.

  Garrett debated for about two seconds before following him. He had to know what was going on.

  Nigel moved quickly, and Garrett hung back so he wouldn’t be seen. He got halfway to the house before the hum of an engine caught his attention off to his left. He stopped and listened as the hum intensified. Garrett veered off in that direction just as it ceased, moving as fast as he dared along the path. This one was less used and more difficult to follow. He had to climb a small hill and over rocks and fallen trees before approaching the beach on the opposite side of the house. A speedboat—compact, sleek, and powerful—bobbed in the waves as two men pulled it up into the sand. A larger one was anchored offshore, and Garrett didn’t need to get closer to see that it was sleek and expensive. Someone with money was behind whatever was going on.

  Garrett settled out of sight as they secured the boat and reached inside. Holy shit! The men were huge and dressed in light clothes that could almost let them pass for tourists at a tropical resort. One had jet-black hair and was slightly overweight. The other was more fit, with brown hair. They both walked like their legs were too big for them.

  “I don’t get this,” Brown Hair said as he leaned into the boat.

  “Be quiet,” Black Hair snapped. “We have our orders. Finish off the kids and take the other two back with us.” He stopped to glare at his partner. “Just carry out our orders, and let’s get out of here.”

  Garrett gasped as they both pulled guns out of the locker in the front of the boat and then headed up the beach at a slow jog toward the house. Ice shot through his veins. He stood still in shock for about two seconds, and then anger and determination took over. He’d be damned if he was going to let anything happen.

  As soon as they were out of sight, Garrett sprinted across the sand to the boat. He checked the locker for another gun and came up empty. He swore and closed it before heading back into the undergrowth, racing toward the house as fast as he dared.

  Chapter 6

  A WIDE leaf smacked him in the face as he rushed through the dense growth, but Garrett barely felt it. He reached the path he’d veered off from and then continued on to the house.

  “Garrett,” Nigel said as he came closer, smiling.

  “Where’s Jules?” Garrett asked quickly, pulling Nigel to him and bringing him down to a crouch.

  “Back at the house,” Nigel answered. “What’s going on?”

  “There isn’t time to explain.” Garrett focused on getting the two of them safe. Then he could figure out what to do next. “It’s for his safety.”

  Nigel bit his lower lip, clearly confused. He hesitated a second, then nodded, stood, and whistled like one of the birds that never seemed to shut up during the day. Nigel repeated the call, and sure as shit, Jules came down the path a minute later.

  “Who is this?” Jules asked, wearing the same genuinely pleasant smile as Nigel.

  “A friend of mine,” Nigel answered before turning to Garrett.

  “Take Jules to the overhang and stay there. Don’t come out or let anyone know you’re there until I call for you. Please. Just trust me and stay there. Don’t make any noise or let anyone see you. Okay?” Garrett desperately willed Nigel to understand.

  “Okay,” Nigel agreed.

  “Why?” Jules demanded.

  “Because I think there are people here to hurt you… both of you.”

  Jules and Nigel both stood. “Then we have to help Aunt Phyllis.” Nigel was already starting back toward the house.

  “I’ll help her,” Garrett said. “Just go to the overhang and get under it where you can’t be seen. Please.” He was willing to beg Nigel if that was what it took.

  Nigel looked toward the house, worrying his lip, and then nodded and took Jules by the hand, tugging him away from the house and down the path toward the beach.

  As soon as they were out of sight, Garrett continued to the house. He had to eliminate the threat to Jules and Nigel. That was the only way to keep the two of them safe. The path to the beach was worn enough that if Garrett could follow it, then so could the men.

  “Where are they?” a deep voice demanded, drifting on the air from the direction of the house. Then a skin-on-skin slap, followed by a short scream. “You fucking know.” Another slap echoed.

  Garrett stayed low and carefully made his way to the window.

  “Just tell us and we’ll take you with us. Otherwise….”

  Garrett recognized the voice of the black-haired man. His menace hung in the air. Garrett managed a quick peek into the room. Both of them were with Phyllis. Garrett wished he knew where Fairfield was, even as he made his way around to the front.

  “Just take it easy, both of you.” So Fairfield was with them as well. At least Garrett knew where everyone was, but that didn’t help him with a plan.

  He peered around the corner, looking down the wide porch for something to use as a weapon. Near the door was an umbrella stand, but little else. Staying close to the house, he moved toward the front door, hoping to hell the floorboards didn’t creak.

  “They’ll be back soon enough,” Fairfield said. “In the meantime, one of you take her upstairs. The boss can deal with her when the time comes.”

  Garrett pressed his back to the outside wall as footsteps passed close to the door.

  “You’re hurting me,” Phyllis complaine
d.

  “I’ll do more than that if you don’t shut up,” Brown Hair said, and Phyllis squeaked again before heavy footsteps signaled their retreat.

  Garrett could hear Fairfield and Black Hair talking in the other room as he slipped inside. The door entered into a living area with light furniture that had seen better days. Garrett grabbed a bronze horse from the table. He stood near the door to the room with the men and scratched on the wall just loudly enough to be heard.

  “See what the fuck that is,” Fairfield demanded.

  Garrett held the sculpture over his head and brought it down on Black Hair’s skull. The horse broke as the huge lug fell to the floor. Garrett wrenched the gun from his hand, shot Fairfield as he came through the door, and instantly turned toward the stairs, where Brown Hair leveled his gun at Garrett.

  “Drop it,” Brown Hair said.

  Garrett held still, gun pointed. “Really?” He was prepared to take the bullet as long as he could drop this guy. “Now, Phyllis!” Garrett snapped, and the idiot turned at the ruse. Garrett pulled the trigger, sending Brown Hair spinning and collapsing onto the floor, wailing about his shoulder. Garret didn’t really care. He snatched up Brown Hair’s gun, brandishing both in case of trouble. At least now he had the firepower.

  “Where the fuck did you come from?” Fairfield groaned.

  He ignored him. “Phyllis, are you all right? Can you hear me?” Garrett called up the stairs.

  “Yes. I’m fine,” she called back, coming slowly down.

  “Is there any rope?” he demanded.

  She stayed on the landing, pressed to the wall. “Who are you?”

  “The person who will shoot them and you if you don’t do what I want.” Garrett didn’t trust her at all. “I took care of the men who hurt you, so just do what I need.” He waved the gun, and she came down and hurried toward the back of the house. She returned with some lengths of clothesline. Garrett trussed up Fairfield, listening to him whine but not giving a damn about his leg. Garrett did the same with the brown-haired thug, making sure the ropes were tight.

  “I’m bleeding,” Brown Hair groaned, trying to fight.

  Garrett leaned down. “Like I care. If you’re lucky, I might call someone to help you. Otherwise you’ll stay right where you are. I’m a police officer, and I know how to take care of guys.” He stared into his brown eyes, which filled with fear by the second. “Now, don’t move, or I’ll tighten the ropes.” Once satisfied, he tied up the last man and stepped back from his handiwork. All three were trussed up like hogs, and it would take some time for any of them to get out.

  “Phyllis.” He turned to the so-called aunt.

  “Where are the boys?” she asked, nearly frantic.

  He shook his head, went to the doorway, and motioned with the gun.

  Phyllis slowly stepped forward, watching him diligently, her eyes following him as though she expected to be shot at any second. “What do you want?”

  He motioned for her to step away from the house, grabbed one of the porch chairs with his free hand, and placed it in the yard. “Sit down.”

  She complied, her eyes darting around.

  “I need some answers, and that’s the only reason you’re still alive.” He stepped closer, keeping the gun on her.

  “Where are Jules and Nigel?” she asked again. “That’s all I care about.”

  Garrett scoffed. “Really? That’s interesting. Is that why you held them prisoner here for eleven years?” He met her gaze, and she had the decency to look ashamed.

  “I did it to keep them safe.” She said it with such ease, and Garrett wondered how she could lie so easily.

  “I heard your conversations with Mr. Belvedere in there, and I know you were working for someone. So don’t try to hand me a line of shit. Nigel and Jules are safe, and they’ll remain that way if I have to kill those guys in there and you to do it.” He had never killed anyone in cold blood, and he didn’t think he had it in him, not if push came to shove, but she didn’t know that. “First, you’re not their aunt. Let’s get that straight.”

  “No. After their parents died, I was hired to bring them here and watch over them.” She looked about ready to cry, but he wasn’t having any crocodile tears. “Look, I’ll tell you… and them… everything you want to know. But I just have to know they’re all right. I’ve cared for them for all this time, and I don’t want to see them hurt.” For some reason he believed her—maybe it was the way she held his gaze, her eyes pleading—but he remained cautious.

  “Why should I accept anything you say as the truth?” Garrett asked.

  “Because they’re still in danger. When those men or Fairfield don’t report in, our employer is going to know something is wrong and he’s going to send more people to investigate.” She became even more nervous, and Garrett wondered who she was more afraid of, him or her employer.

  “First things first—are there more than just the two?”

  Phyllis shook her head.

  “There’s communication equipment?” Garrett asked, and she nodded. “Take me to it.” He motioned her to her feet. “And do you have anything to make our friends sleepy?”

  She nodded and led him inside. Garrett kept his gun on her, and they walked through the room past the men to the back of the house. She pulled open a bank of cabinets to reveal a small room with a satellite communication system. There was also a medicine cabinet, which she opened and pulled out a syringe. “Fairfield kept this on hand in case the boys became trouble. It will put them to sleep for six hours or so.”

  The irony wasn’t lost on Garrett.

  “Perfect. Set it on the counter and step away.” He took the syringe and administered a dose to each of the three men. Once they were out, he could relax a little before returning to the satellite equipment. He picked up the receiver, and she touched his hand.

  “This line is monitored. As soon as you make a call, they will know who it was to.”

  Garrett placed the handset back in the cradle and stepped back, then fired two bullets into the equipment, shorting it out. “Get some food and water for the boys, now. Pack lightly, but take what you can carry. We’re leaving this place.” He let her load a bag with provisions, and then they went upstairs, where she packed some clothes for Jules and Nigel, as well as herself. When they were finished, they descended the stairs and left the house, the three men sleeping on the floor.

  “Should we leave them without any hope of rescue?” Phyllis asked.

  “Once we’re away, I’ll report this, but until then, they can stay right there.” Garrett hadn’t wounded any of them too badly, and they’d wake up in a few hours. They could take their chances after that. “We’re leaving.” He loaded Phyllis down with the bags and directed her around the back of the house.

  “You don’t need that gun. I’m not going to attack you or try to run away,” she said as she hesitated at the entrance to the trail. “I care about those boys. You have to believe me.”

  He placed the gun in his belt on the opposite side of the other one and pointed to the trail. “You’ll regret breaking your word.” He flashed her a searing gaze until she squirmed and nodded. “Go on ahead. I’ll be right behind you.” Garrett waited until she stepped into the jungle before following.

  THEY WALKED out onto the beach a while later. Phyllis turned to where his boat rocked in the waves. “How long have you been here?”

  “About a week.” Had it only been that long? It seemed like longer, but then his thoughts had been consumed by one particular person.

  “And you know Nigel and Jules?” Her upper lip turned and her eyes hardened. “What did you do to them?”

  “I only met Nigel, and they’re fine and safe. Unlike you, I’d never hurt either of them or hold them hostage. Nigel is an incredible person, and he deserves better than the life you allowed him to have.”

  Phyllis rolled her eyes. “You don’t understand at all.” She put her hands on her hips.

  “Maybe I don’t, but then ne
ither do Nigel and Jules. They’ve been kept here, away from the rest of the world, with no thought to how they felt about it.” Garrett stepped closer. “You took away their choices, their freedoms, and their childhood. They never had friends to play with or got to see anything beyond this island.”

  “This is a good place,” she countered.

  “Maybe. But how good is it when men show up to kill them?” He wasn’t going to let this go, and as Phyllis’s shoulders slumped, he knew he’d finally gotten through to her in some way.

  “I’ll tell them everything.” She sighed. “Yes, I helped keep them here, I admit that. But sending men to kill them is more than I ever agreed to.” Her right hand shook, and Garrett allowed for the possibility that she was telling the truth. “I don’t want those boys hurt. How many times can I say that? Why do you think Fairfield wanted me out of the way as well?” She turned toward the water, staring outward. “I love those boys. I’m probably the only one who does.”

  She has one hell of a way of showing it. Garrett shook his head, wondering if all the time here on the island had warped her brain. To him that wasn’t love. Allowing the ones you cared for to make their own decisions and live their lives openly and to have choices—that was love. Not hiding them away.

  “You stay here, and I’ll go see if Nigel and Jules want to talk to you.” He placed his hand on a gun to emphasize his point, walked over to the rockfall, and climbed to the top. “Nigel, it’s me.”

  A shadow moved under the ledge, and then Nigel peered out from under the overhang. “What’s happened?”

  Garrett had to remind himself that they knew nothing about any of this. “It’s safe now. And I have Phyllis with me. Why don’t both of you come with me?” He waited for them to come out and join him. As soon as they climbed over the rockfall and got onto the beach, they ran to Phyllis and hugged her tightly, nearly knocking her over. Garrett joined them and met Phyllis’s gaze.