With that, I headed toward the umbrella to gather our things. I was a little nervous about the visit with Dad. I knew we’d either see him shit-faced or slinging so much shit it would be hard to tell when he might actually be telling the truth.
3
Dad slipped back into his chair and said, “Wow, they’ve even upgraded the bathrooms in this place. It’s been a while since we’ve been here, huh, baby?”
Baby?
I cringed, but I tried like hell not to show it. We were just wrapping up dinner at Mariano’s, a little Italian place in Port Isabel, my actual hometown, just across the one bridge connected to South Padre Island. Outside of the cutesy game Dad was playing with his latest squeeze, Carly, the dinner had gone much better than anticipated. He hadn’t ordered a single alcoholic beverage, and all things considered, he seemed reasonably healthy, lucid, and…uncomfortably frisky with this woman who was easily twenty years his junior. I wondered if she was older than I was.
“Hey, Donny, why don’t you tell Luke and Erin some of your sailor jokes?” Carly batted her fake eyelashes and squeezed his biceps. While she was surprisingly attractive and had all of her limbs, her smile was enough to bring shivers up my spine. She had more gold in her mouth than Flavor Flav.
“Hold on,” I said. As a former officer in the Coast Guard, Dad had a salty mouth, to say the least. I wasn’t keen on having the kids exposed to what I heard growing up.
“Mom, you’re such a buzzkill,” Erin said from the safety of the other side of the table. “Hello, do you know the kind of shit I see at school every day? Girls smoke weed in the bathroom, and there’s a massive cheating scandal that goes on between everyone ranked in the top ten percent of the class.”
Her “hello” attitude had carried over from the beach. To a degree, I couldn’t blame her. I replayed the whole scenario on the way back to where we were staying during the week, at my old friend Teresa’s house. Once I put myself in Erin’s shoes—or bikini, as the case may be—I kind of got where she was coming from. She couldn’t help that her body had changed. And she was only drinking an Izze. While that boy, Corey, was dressed more like a stripper than just a regular dude, he wasn’t smoking a joint or openly hitting on her—at least as far as I could tell. I knew I owed her a private mother-daughter discussion later.
“Okay, Dad, try to keep it PG or better, will you?”
He gave me a quick I gotcha wink. My breath caught in the back of my throat. That snapshot took me back twenty-something years, when his skin wasn’t wrinkled and he still had at least an occasional vibrancy for life, especially when he was coaching me on working out harder or giving me the thumbs-up before I’d play a big match. Then I’d usually go out and win in straight sets and he’d say to all of his buddies, “She’s my secret weapon, boys. Alex has that killer instinct that I’ve never seen before.”
It made me feel good when I was seventeen: stronger, confident, almost invincible. Looking back, it was probably his way of overcompensating for me not having my mother around. Or he just had no clue how to raise a daughter.
“Okay, I’ll keep this clean for the little guy over here,” Dad said.
Luke’s brow furrowed. “I grew two inches in the last six months.”
“But you’re still a runt,” Erin said with a hearty laugh. She quickly stuck a straw in her sassy mouth, and I put my hand over Luke’s mouth before he could retort.
“Save us, Dad.”
“Why do seagulls fly over the sea?”
“I don’t know, Donny,” Carly said, splaying her hands while grinning at Luke. “Why do seagulls fly over the sea?”
Sheesh, they were a regular vaudeville act.
“Do you know, Luke?” I asked. He shook his head, then I glanced at Erin, who was too busy checking out the scene in the restaurant.
“Hit us, Dad.”
“Because if they flew over the bay, they would be baygulls. Get it?”
Carly led the laughing brigade, finishing every round with a snort, which cracked up both Luke and Erin. She had no clue they were laughing at her. She scratched her forearm, which brought my attention to her lightweight, long-sleeve shirt.
“Long sleeves, Carly? You must be one of those who gets cold instead of comfortable when these restaurants blast the AC,” I said.
She covered her breasts. “Don’t tell me my headlights are still showing. Shit, Donny, I even added a camisole on top of my regular bra.”
Classy. I tried to quickly change the subject. “Got another joke, Dad?”
“How much did the pirate pay for his piercings?”
Carly opened her hands and mouth, but I held up my hand, hoping to avoid the routine. Neither of the kids had a guess.
Dad said, “A buck an ear. Get it?”
The laughter was barely discernible.
After dessert, the waiter arrived with the check. I subtly asked him to hand it to me. But as he stretched his arm across the table, Dad snatched it from his hand.
“Don’t worry about it, Dad. I got this.”
He looked me straight in the eye. “No, Alex. You’ve been worrying about your papa for far too long. I’m doing well. Real well. I got this.”
I smiled and sat back, thinking about the last time I’d seen him in person. We were sitting in a diner in downtown DC. He had been fooled by a cold-blooded killer to share some of my personal background, and then she openly challenged me to find her and a hostage through some live streaming video site. I wasn’t sure about Dad’s health or his integrity a few months ago, but tonight he seemed like a new man. Gold grill and all, maybe Carly had been good for him.
I took a final sip of my iced tea and glanced over Erin’s shoulder. I literally froze. I pinched the corners of my eyes, not believing what I was seeing. I recognized someone with whom I used to work. A man with a notable afro—what I called the Mike Brady fro. I told the family I’d meet them at the front door and walked to the corner of the restaurant.
“Archie Woods, I thought you’d still be stapling papers in DC. How are you doing?”
I’d been forced to co-lead a joint task force with my CIA counterpart. Archie and I worked side by side as we hunted a female serial killer down the East Coast. He was the most annoying person I’d ever encountered, but as it turned out, he wasn’t a bad guy. Well, at least he’d stood up to his CIA bosses and essentially told them to shove their secretive, non-collaborative mode of operations up their collective asses. He was thrown off the task force. After that, we lost touch. Seeing him in Texas, in little Port Isabel, was surreal.
He calmly set down his napkin and in a louder than normal voice said, “I’m sorry, I don’t recall you.”
I held up a quick finger to his dinner mate, an anxious-looking guy.
Archie was always trying to one-up everyone around him. “Right, Archie. I’m surprised the agency let you out of the doghouse so soon,” I said with a smile. I put a hand on my hip. I realized I didn’t look that intimidating in my white blouse and blue and white skirt that fell just above the knees.
He briefly shifted his eyes to look just over my shoulder “I’m sorry, miss, but you must have the wrong person. Please don’t harass me, or I’ll have to get the manager.”
Part of me was about to pop Archie in the shoulder with my fist, but I held back. Something was off. A second later, a man came around to my right and took a seat opposite of Archie at the table. He seemed a bit timid. He wore a frayed, red T-shirt and jeans with oil stains. Apparently, he’d been working all day, unlike the rest of us.
“Mom, let’s go. I want to climb to the top of the lighthouse.” Luke tugged me away, but it was obvious Archie was involved in a situation where he couldn’t reveal his true identity.
A few minutes later, Luke and Erin were standing on the deck of the Port Isabel Lighthouse, seeing how far their voices would carry. Dad, Carly, and I huddled in the shade of the one live oak tree, just across the street from the restaurant.
“It’s been fun, but we need t
o get going.” Dad gave me a hug, and it felt good.
Carly offered me a fake kiss on the cheek.
“Let’s get together again in the next day or two. Then again, I might be busy tomorrow.” He and Carly headed toward a row of cars across the street, suddenly in a rush to leave, it seemed.
“Okay, Dad. I’ll call you,” I said with a wave.
He extended his arm, and I heard a beeping noise to unlock the doors of a…shiny, late-model Cadillac Escalade? I almost shouted to ask if he had the right car. Was this the real Donald Troutt, my dad? The one who, since being forced out of the Coast Guard for drunken insubordination, had only worked a few odd jobs here and there? Earlier, over dinner, he had mentioned something about captaining a fishing excursion boat, which he said kept him busy and paid the bills. I figured that was electricity and groceries, not a six-hundred-dollar lease payment. Maybe Carly owned it, but I thought she only worked as a hairdresser.
With my excited kids’ voices echoing over downtown Port Isabel about three hundred feet above me, the front door of the restaurant opened, drawing my eyes in that direction.
A moment later, shots ricocheted off buildings and broken glass sprayed like it was fired out of a water cannon.
The next few seconds came at me in slow motion. Orange flashes pumping distorted air from the main cross street, bodies lurching forward, blood splattering like mist from an ocean wave, and the piercing scream of my daughter. I spun around and looked up at the lighthouse, screaming at my kids to get inside and lie down.
The thundering boom of a pistol sounded from just outside the front door. It was Archie returning fire, even as bullets destroyed the outdoor lamp just above his head. Quickly shifting my eyes in the direction of Dad, my heart exploded—I could see the shoulders of a man sprawled out on the concrete on the other side of the Cadillac, a trail of burgundy draining from the body.
I had no gun, but I didn’t care. I dropped my purse and ran like hell toward the row of parked cars. Almost immediately, a bullet took a chunk out of the concrete, blowing fragments in my face. I held up an arm but kept running, scanning the many parked cars along the street. And then I saw the shooters, their faces covered with black and gold bandanas. They were using a fatigue-green, older-model car for cover. One was firing a semi-automatic rifle, his shoulder trembling from the kickback. The other man was switching out his magazine. Then two more loud booms from Archie’s weapon, and the second shooter took a bullet to the side of his head. His screams distracted his partner, who briefly looked away from his semi-automatic.
I made it to the row of parked cars, pausing for a second behind a red pickup. A single breath, then I darted out of my stance. The automatic weapons pumped more bullets through the air. I hunkered lower to the ground and turned my head to ensure the kids were still inside the lighthouse. All good on that front.
As I made my way down the row of cars, I could just make out the top of the Escalade, but couldn’t see Dad or Carly. All the windows had been blown out. I could feel a wave of emotion starting to creep into my eyes, wondering if I’d lost my dad in another crazy death, just as I’d lost my mom to a drunken driver when her car was slammed off a bridge.
“No…” I said, pleading with some higher power not to take another family member from me. Two more steps and I found blood at my feet, seeping through the pebbled concrete like molten lava. I dashed around a small SUV to the near side of the Escalade. Glass was everywhere.
“Dad!” I called out, hoping I’d hear his voice from the other side.
A flurry of bullets zipped overhead, then another boom from the sidewalk. Archie was still with us.
Now up on my toes, I scampered around the vehicle. I first saw the sandals and skinny, hairy legs, and my heart dropped. Then I lifted my eyes. There was Dad on one knee, holding a man’s head in his hands. Three lines of blood snaked across Dad’s face, but I couldn’t find the origin of his injury. Carly was hunched over like a turtle, covering her head, shaking, and screaming something indecipherable.
“Dad,” I said, running up next to him, Shards of glass sprayed everywhere when I skidded to a stop.
“He took a bullet to the back of the head. I’m trying to stop the bleeding, but it’s not working. He’s bleeding out.”
Just then, a man came around the edge of the Escalade. He had no bandana covering his face, and I could see his thin mustache. He smiled as he lifted his gun. Was he aiming at Carly? He muttered something I couldn’t understand in quick Spanish.
“Look out!” I jumped over Dad and landed with a thud on top of Carly, who screamed again.
A second later, the boom of Archie’s pistol rang in my ear. I glanced up and saw the same man clutching his shoulder, pain etched all over his sweaty face. He’d fallen back a couple of steps. Then I saw his gun on the ground. Our eyes locked for a brief second. Without thinking, I pushed off Carly and lunged for the gun. As I was in midair, I heard more shots, then a man shouting instructions.
Fully laid out on the concrete, I grabbed the pistol by the barrel and swung it around to the grip. I looked up, but the man had disappeared. A second later, I heard tires squealing. I jumped to my feet and lunged forward, making a beeline for the action. At the same time, Archie ran up from the right, both of us meeting at the corner of the sidewalk as the car drove off.
With both hands on his gigantic pistol, he pressed his lips together, swung his left foot around, and took aim.
“Hold it, Archie!” I dropped my hand on his arm before he fired. “People in the median,” I said, nudging my chin in that direction.
“Dammit!” he said through clenched teeth. He pointed his pistol upward, resting it on his shoulder. “I injured two, but they all got away. Fuck.”
Sirens split the air. We glanced at each other, then rushed to help with the many victims.
4
A medic wearing blue rubber gloves blotted disinfectant on Dad’s ear in the back of the ambulance. The edge of Dad’s lips turned upward, but his expression remained blank. Or did I actually see a hint of defiance? It reminded me of when he was younger, stronger, and hard-nosed. Before Mom died.
His eyes found mine. “Where are Luke and Erin?”
“They’re trying to help any of the wounded reach their family or friends via cell phone. Erin knows just enough Spanish to be dangerous,” I said with a forced chuckle. I cupped a hand to block the blaring sun and spotted both of them at the far end of the square. They were speaking with a couple in their twenties, who were both being treated for arm wounds. Immediately following the shootout, the kids flew out of the base of the lighthouse and ran over to me, covering me with hugs. Then they both said they wanted to help…needed to help in some way. I understood their desire.
High heels clipped the crunchy concrete off to my right, and I found Carly pacing on the other side of the ambulance, a phone attached to one ear, her other hand planted at her temple. Droplets of blood coated her yellow top. I even saw some on her neck and chin. She occasionally raised her voice in what appeared to be an animated discussion.
“Carly?” Dad said. He had tracked my eyes, likely hearing his girlfriend.
“Uh, yeah. She seems upset, or more pissed off, I guess.”
“Eh,” he said, looking away.
“Please look straight ahead, sir. One more piece of glass,” the male medic said.
Scanning the area again, Erin and Luke were still talking to the couple, flanked by a cop and two medics. The entire area had been cordoned off by yellow police tape. I’d given my initial statement to the local cops already, but Archie was still in the process. Encircled by police detectives, border patrol, and DEA, he was flapping his jaws without taking a breath.
While the severity of the shootout was enough to keep the information flowing for a good while, Archie had always been that guy who could draw a crowd—and not always for the most flattering reasons. I still had no clue what he was doing in Port Isabel and why he denied knowing me earlier.
; I’d quiz him later, after authorities undoubtedly asked us more questions.
“You know this is shit, and I’m not going to play this game,” I heard Carly say. Then she walked away from the ambulance. When she reached the tree by the lighthouse, she flipped around and saw me watching her. It felt awkward, so I turned back to Dad.
“You’re really quite lucky, you know,” I said to him.
“I guess so. I wish I could have done something to help that fella who got shot right in front of me. Took it in the back of the head.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I haven’t been in the middle of that kind of shootout since I was stationed off Miami Beach and we had a run-in with two small boats carrying Cuban soldiers. What was the final victim count?”
“Three dead, twelve wounded.”
I could hear Carly’s voice flare up briefly. Dad must have heard her too.
He inhaled slowly then let out a long breath. “I’m thankful nothing happened to Carly.”
I first gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Dad, how long have you known her?”
“Is this my daughter asking or the FBI special agent?”
The medic paused, his hand holding a bloody cotton ball, and he shifted his eyes to me. “What is said here, stays here,” I said to him. He nodded.
I looked back to Dad. “It’s your daughter, who doesn’t want to see you shacking up with someone just because she’s cute and strokes your ego. And besides that, I’m on vacation. I didn’t even bring my gun with me.”
“Maybe that’s a decision you regret right about now,” he stated.
While there was a degree of truth to his presumption, I didn’t like him insinuating that I could have reduced the casualty count. I gritted my teeth.
“Look, Carly is a solid person. She’s lived on this earth forty-one years, and she’s made her share of mistakes, just like the rest of us. But she’s compassionate, sees the best in people. Sees the best in me.”
The Alex Troutt Thrillers: Books 4-6 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set Book 2) Page 3
