by Jaden Skye
“I’m a friend of the family,” said Cindy.
“Bullshit,” he answered, stepping closer. “A friend of the family wouldn’t come here alone, sniffing around.” Then he stood back and took a long, slow look at Cindy. “Besides, I know all the friends of the family, by now.”
“They all come down here?” Cindy asked in amazement.
“Not all, just the ones I invite.”
The two of them stopped and stared at each other. Cindy wondered if Carlos had any idea that she was part of law enforcement? There was definitely a strange bond between them. And, he was obviously shaken by Allie’s death. He probably felt that Cindy was also disturbed by it.
Carlos’s phone rang then, and he grabbed it out of his pocket, opened it up and listened.
“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled. “I know.”
“Alright,” he got harsher and turned back to Cindy then. “Listen, some guys are on their way here to pick up some packages I got ready for them. I don’t know what you want here, but you can’t stay much longer.”
“I’m here to help, Allie,” Cindy repeated.
“Too late for that,” he rubbed his foot on the floor then, as if putting out an old cigarette.
“What else can I do for you? You want some hash?”
“I’m not here for drugs,” Cindy said plainly then. She wanted to be straight with him, see where it took her.
He shook his head up and down, taking her in. “You want to know why this happened?” he said, “who had something against Allie, why she’s dead?”
“Exactly,” said Cindy, her heart pounding, feeling as though she’d found a compatriot, someone who could truly help her, who deep down, wanted to.
“I have no idea,” said Carlos, “and I mean it. This shit took me for as much surprise as you. Allie was a beautiful, sweet girl who did everything anyone wanted from her, especially Peter.”
“Did Peter kill her?” Cindy asked in a hushed done.
“Absolutely not,” Carlos shook his head hard at that and shut his eyes.
Then he opened his eyes swiftly and looked out the back window. A car was pulling up along the other side of the house.
“Okay, get the hell out of here,” he said, swiftly, as the car screeched to a halt, parked, and three shifty looking guys got out.
Cindy was riveted to the spot, watching them approach the house.
“Get out,” Carlos shouted at her, “now.”
But it was too late. The guys pushed open a back door and swarmed inside. They stopped cold when they saw Cindy.
“Who’s that?” one spit out, looking her up and down, as though she were booty.
“She came for her stash,” Carlos muttered.
The guys didn’t buy it, edged closer to Cindy. One in particular looked at her threateningly, leering and rolling his tongue over his teeth. Cindy felt he could wipe her out in an instant, if Carlos gave him the word.
“Cut it out, Flandro,” Carlos said to him.
“Where’s her stash?” Flandro pointed to Cindy’s empty hands.
“Just about to get it,” said Carlos, when the other guy slithered up behind Cindy.
“Never saw this customer,” the other guy said, standing too close, smelling of filth and sweat.
“Back off, Pedro,” Carlos warned him, “there’s no time for this. She’s a friend of the family.”
Pedro took a few steps back, grinned, and shook his head.
“Nah, she’s lying to you. They’re coming themselves to pick the stash up.”
The tension in the room increased as Cindy felt the guys closing in around her.
Thankfully, the next moment, they all looked up and out the front window as a long, black car pulled up in front of the house.
“Alright, alright,” Carlos muttered. “They’re here themselves.”
Cindy looked as hard she could through the cracked, dirty, front window as someone got out of the car and began walking towards the house. She couldn’t make out who it was right away, but was able to see two other guys, like shadows, sitting in the back seat.
Carlos turned to Pedro abruptly. “You got the packages for them?”
“In the car,” Pedro said, as the man walking closer to the house moved out of the shadows and into the light.
Cindy suddenly grew cold and stared. Mac was strolling up to the front door, as if he’d been there a hundred times.
“Mac,” she breathed.
“You know the guy?” asked Carlos.
“Of course I know him.”
Mac pushed the front door open, walked into the room, and suddenly, completely stunned, stopped on a dime.
“Cindy?” he said bewildered. “Who told you to come here?” The muscles in his face grew taut.
“I came for Allie,” Cindy muttered.
“The girl’s dead,” Pedro grumbled, his face growing heated.
“Maybe,” said Cindy, “maybe not?” She liked saying that, liked watching the fear that flashed over their faces at the idea that it was possible that Allie might still be alive. Or, at the very least, that her spirit was here with them right now, watching them all.
“What are you doing here, Mac?” Cindy asked, feeling suddenly empowered.
“I’m going to drive you back to the hotel, we’ll talk it over,” said Mac, softly. Then he looked at the guys in the room. “My boys are in the car. You’ll give it to them and drive them where they need to go.”
Cindy shivered. Was Mac in on a drug dealing scheme? Who were the boys waiting in the back of his car?
Mac went to the front door the and out to his car.
Cindy watched him lean in the back window and say something to whoever was waiting back there. She rushed out the front door of the house after Mac just in time to see the back door of the car open and two young men duck out. As they made their way out of the shadows, towards the back of the house, Cindy could have sworn she saw Jared and Tad.
CHAPTER 15
After insisting upon paying the taxi driver, Mac drove Cindy away, back up the incline, through the rocky, dirt roads, to civilization. Cindy was amazed at how relieved she felt to be in the car with him, returning to the hotel.
As they took off, Cindy looked out the window, and neither of them said a word for quite a while. Finally, Mac broke the silence.
“Don’t ever go back there alone, again,” he said.” You’re playing with fire.”
Cindy knew he was right.
“There are parts of this Island you just don’t belong in,” Mac spoke calmly and definitively. “There’s no reason for you to be there, either. What goes on down there has nothing at all to do with the case. It’s a side bar.”
“Everything could have something to do with the case,” Cindy replied. “You never know what will blow it all open.”
Mac switched on the radio, and once again, Cindy felt the bristling energy between them.
“There’s nothing to blow open anymore,” Mac said as a slow song came on. “You got the autopsy report. There’s nothing irregular, just what would be expected in a Scuba drowning accident.”
“So why don’t I belong down here?” Cindy wanted to hear more.
“How’d you find out about Carlos, anyway?” he went on, “through one of the girls?”
“Yes,” said Cindy.
“So? Allie liked pot. Some of us knew it, some looked the other way. Is that such a crime?” Mac was undaunted.
“It’s quite a crime down on this Island,” Cindy replied, “especially if you’re dealing.”
“Allie wasn’t a dealer,” said Mac. “I promise you that.”
“So, what was she doing visiting Carlos regularly?”
“She just went there to pick up stuff for herself. She and Carlos knew each other for a long time. He was good to her, gave her all she wanted, plus a nice discount.”
Cindy was surprised that Mac took is so casually.
“Seems like you knew all about her dealings,” said Cindy, turning sharply to him.
“Of course I knew,” Mac continued, matter of factly. “It’s my job to know whatever goes on with anyone connected to the company. I keep an eye on things.” Then he flashed her a charming smile. Too charming, thought Cindy, as she trembled.
“So, what brought you here?” Cindy continued, as the cool, salty air came through the car window, blowing over their faces.
“I’ll tell you if you promise we can have more time to talk, later on,” Mac said.
“We can have more time to talk, of course,” said Cindy.
“And, if you promise,” Mac continued, “that you’ll never go down there again, alone.”
“I was actually planning to go down with Mattheus today,” said Cindy.
“Mattheus is going to be tied up at our office all day,” Mac replied. “That guy’s like a dog gnawing on a bone.”
“He’s going through your records,” Cindy replied, “that’s a normal part of an investigation.” She was interested to hear what Mac would say.
“He’s obsessed, if you asked me,” Mac went on, “scrambling for whatever he can find.”
Cindy smiled. “It’s a detective’s job to be obsessed,” she said lightly. As they drove she felt more and more at ease with Mac and felt the connection between them grow stronger.
An old Spanish love song came on and Mac slowed the car down. Cindy was glad, she was in no rush to get back to the hotel and be in her room alone right now.
“It seems like you could have a much better life than running around in the Caribbean, with an obsessed detective, hunting for killers,” Mac said quietly.
He was right, thought Cindy suddenly, feeling a wave of sadness engulf her.
“You’re a special woman, Cindy,” Mac turned and looked at her. “I really mean that.”
Tears welled up in her eyes.
Mac saw them. “Is something wrong? What’s going on in your life?”
Cindy wiped her eyes quickly. Once again he’d shifted the focus to her.
“You’re the one who’s supposed to be telling me about yourself, remember?” she said.
Especially what you were doing down there with Carlos?”
“I remember,” said Mac, as he pulled off the road, under a huge, old tree with branches that
seemed to extended forever, creating a little world of its own beneath them. Cindy felt as if the two of them had entered a natural arbor where they were totally safe and apart from the world.
“I’m a man of my word and I’ll answer your questions, if you’ll answer mine,” Mac spoke in a throaty tone, as the branches waved slightly in the wind.
“You first,” said Cindy.
“The drug regulations are rough on this Island, and stupid, if you asked me,” Mac went on. “Everyone who comes down here on vacation wants a little pot now and then. And the people who live and work down here enjoy some, too. Parties and dinners go on all the time. It’s part of the natural course of business.”
Mac spoke in such a matter of fact tone that Cindy felt herself getting lulled in, drawn into his scenario.
“So, I make sure we always have some on hand,” Mac continued. “It’s a courtesy to our customers. Carlos is good to us, with nice discounts. It’s as simple as that. Is it illegal? Maybe. Is it a crime? No.”
“Not in your view, Mac,” said Cindy slowly as the leaves of the branches rustled around them.
Mac smiled and took her hands in his. “You’re not going to arrest me, are you? A private detective isn’t the same as a cop, is it?” he asked.
“There’s a fine line,” said Cindy, taking her hands away. Mac was asking her to cover this up, act as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.
“People smoke pot all over the world,” he said in a hushed tone.
But suddenly, the memory of Tad and Jared sitting in the back seat of Mac’s car suddenly flashed through Cindy’s mind. She remembered the way they’d ducked out into the shadows and fled to the back of the house.
“What about Tad and Jared?” she asked.
Mac looked momentarily startled.
“I saw them in the back of your car,” Cindy added, waiting for Mac to corroborate it.
“Jared takes diving parties out all the time. Folks like a little before they go down, or, after the dive, up on board. Tad works for us at the company. Same story there, he’s helping me out.”
Mac made every detail fall into place. But Cindy felt something was off.
“It doesn’t add up,” she said quietly.
Mac lurched back. “Don’t push the envelope,” he said more firmly, “gang violence on the Island is growing. Those other guys you saw down there are tricky. You don’t want to mess with them.”
Mac looked deeply into Cindy’s eyes then, and she felt a wave of concern and protection, she hadn’t felt in a very long while.
“I’m concerned for you Cindy,” Mac said.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Cindy wondered what had happened in his life, why at this stage he was alone? Although Mac was clearly a hub of the Island’s activities, at times he also seemed strangely unmoored.
“How about lunch?” Mac suddenly seemed excited. “I know a great spot you probably haven’t been to. It’s near old caves and waterfalls, behind a bird sanctuary. Beautiful.”
“That would be great,” said Cindy, “but not right now.”
Cindy needed some time alone to regain her footing, think things over. Mac had the ability to confuse her logic, stir fantasies of all kinds.
“When?” Mac wasn’t letting go.
“Not exactly sure,” said Cindy. “Actually, my sister and her husband are coming down from Florida to visit today. We’re scheduled for dinner at the hotel.”
“That’s great,” said Mac, appreciatively. “Good to have family around.”
“I’ll call you later on,” she said.
“Is that a promise?” Mac’s eyes twinkled.
“Yes, it is,” said Cindy.
Mac started the car up, relieved. “Okay, then I’ll take you back to the hotel for now.
*
After Mac dropped her off at the hotel, Cindy decided to take a walk into town. The sun had come out and the air grown balmy and inviting. She’d take herself out for lunch at a café, buy a little gift for Ann, get her head together. She was glad Mattheus was busy at the office all day. It was good not to wonder where he was going, who he was seeing on the side.
Cindy turned North on a narrow street and walked onto a main thoroughfare, letting the soft wind blow her hair. She stepped off the curb to cross over, when suddenly, out of nowhere, an old, green car spun around the corner at top speed, veering right at her.
“Get Out Of The Way!” a man’s voice yelled.
Cindy screamed.
A stranger rushed over and grabbed her by the shoulders, barely pulling her out of the way!
The car spun, screeched and sped away, raising a cloud of dust into the air. She’d missed being run over by a second, could have easily been sprawled on the ground, dead.
People on the street gathered around her as Cindy’s knees buckled and she felt faint. The person who’d pulled her out of danger had his arms around her, steadying her.
“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he said, “people go crazy down here all the time. Too much liquor, too much sun.”
An old Island woman came over and started rubbing Cindy’s hands. “There’s no good people around anymore,” she whispered in Cindy’s ear, “someone could be out to get you. Be careful.”
A middle aged woman joined in and helped Cindy to a bench.
A tall British man stood at a distance, shaking his head disconcertedly.
“I saw everything,” he commented coolly, “it was just an accident, could have happened to anyone.”
Cindy’s heart started uncontrollably pounding. One minute here, the next minute gone. It was a miracle that she was still breathing. Someone wanted her dead, no doubt about it. The angels were with her, they’d pulled her to safety
, fast.
“It was a joy ride,” another man commented. “That’s what these idiots do for fun.”
“You’ll feel better in a few minutes,” the first man, with his arms on her shoulders said.
When Cindy calmed down, she reached for her phone. To her amazement it was Mac she was dialing, not Mattheus.
Thankfully, Mac picked up immediately.
“Someone almost ran me over,” Cindy breathed into the phone. “They came right at me.”
Mac’s voice grew taut. “Where are you? Don’t move a muscle. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Hurry,” Cindy barely said.
*
Mac appeared in what seemed like an instant and rushed to the bench where Cindy was sitting, edging others out of the way.
“Are you hurt?” he was agitated.
“She’s fine, she’s fine,” the cool British man remarked.
“Let’s get out of here,” Mac said to Cindy. “Can you get up, are you dizzy?”
“I’m fine,” Cindy said, letting him help her stand and leaning against his strong body, as he led her to his car.
Once in the car, she felt her body trembling from the shock of what had almost taken place. There was no question that someone wanted to kill her, the car had a purpose, it was coming straight at her.
“We need to talk,” Mac said, turning to her. “Do you want me to take you back to the hotel? Are you up to going to a quiet spot and having lunch?”
Cindy didn’t want to go back to the hotel at the moment.
“A quiet place for lunch is fine,” she said. She was hungry and it would be grounding to be somewhere else, have something to eat, and speak to Mac openly.
Mac started the car and drove very slowly then, not saying a word. They drove through a little village and then up a hill and round a bend. The low, wooden restaurant was nestled in a cove of trees, near a waterfall. As they approached the sound of birds filled the air.
“You’ll love it here,” said Mac, opening the car door and ushering Cindy out of it, solicitously and into the restaurant.
They were seated at a small table near the window with flowers on it, a tumbler of Sangria, and two glasses. Mac poured the Sangria slowly. Cindy took her glass and drank some. Cindy was aware that it was Mac she’d turned to. She hadn’t called Mattheus in her time of need.
