Erin Solomon Mysteries, Books 1 - 5

by Jen Blood

  The satellite phone was in a corner of the lab, at a sturdy old desk looking out over the water. Jamie led me there, then left me with the distant, disembodied voice of my mother’s lover in my ear.

  “Is she all right?” Maya asked without preamble.

  Somewhere deep down, I’d been hoping all this time that maybe there had been a mistake. Maybe the backpack with all the liquor didn’t belong to Kat after all; maybe she and Maya were still on the mainland, bickering about work schedules and interior decorating choices. It took me a second to get back on track once that bubble had burst.

  “I don’t know if she’s all right,” I finally answered. “We can’t find her. We can’t find anyone. Where the hell are you?”

  “Syracuse,” she said. There was a slight time delay between us. Maya was already far enough away, but with the delay it felt like she was on another planet. She might as well have been. “There was a conference… I didn’t want to go, but your mother insisted.”

  “Why would she do that? I thought this puffin deal was your project together.”

  “What gave you that idea? The island was all her… She seemed excited about it, so I agreed. But then, later…” She broke off. After a second or two, I heard her clear her throat.

  “Maya?”

  “We split up, Erin. I’m sorry… I wanted to tell you, but Kat wanted to wait.”

  “What do you mean, you split up?” I demanded. “I saw Kat three days ago and she said you were picking out paint for the living room. She didn’t say anything about you two breaking up. What the hell happened?”

  “It just… things changed. It happens. I’m sorry.”

  “You mean Kat changed. That’s it, right? How long has she been drinking?”

  More silence. I stared out the giant windows at the endless blue expanse of water below. This couldn’t be happening.

  “It’s not just the drinking,” Maya said.

  “How long?” I pressed.

  “About a month,” she finally admitted. “It started before you left for Kentucky.”

  “You could have told me.”

  “Kat didn’t want you to know. The drinking was just a symptom, Erin. She’s been harder to reach, for a couple of months now. Darker. She kept pushing me away… Finally, I didn’t have the strength to fight her on it anymore.”

  I resisted the urge to throw the phone at the wall—which, I was sure, would be frowned on by the establishment.

  “Do you want me to come?” Maya asked. “I could get a flight out there… I can leave as early as tonight, if you think it would help.”

  I shook my head, but I couldn’t get my voice to work.

  “I didn’t want to leave, Erin—I hope you know that. I just… I didn’t know what else to do. I thought maybe if we had some time apart…”

  “I know,” I said when I found my voice again. “It’s not your fault. I know she’s not easy.” It felt like some kind of betrayal saying that now. Like I should be defending Kat, who’d been nothing but jagged edges for as long as I had known her.

  “Will you call me when you find her?” Maya asked. “I’m sure she’ll be okay, but just… let me know, all right? And you know you can always call me, Erin. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”

  “I know,” I said numbly. I hung up the phone and sat. The ball of dread in my stomach had grown toenails and hair—like those tumors you read about in medical journals, these unidentifiable masses of cells and viscera growing rampant.

  I stood when Jamie knocked on the door. “If you need another minute…”

  I looked around, suddenly nauseous, and beat feet for the exit. “No, it’s all right. I’m done here.”

  I left the lab and stood in the hallway for a few seconds, getting my thoughts together. Kat was on this island somewhere—she had to be. She was here, and she was alone. I had no idea whether she was alive or dead; I didn’t even know if she wanted to be found. But that didn’t matter…. I was all she had. Whether she liked it or not, I was all Kat had ever had, really. And I’d be damned if I was abandoning her now.

  Chapter Four - Diggs

  Juarez came down shortly after Solomon left to talk to Maya. I was in the kitchen making coffee, trying not to think about the suicide note or the way Sol was slowly shrinking into herself or all the ways this trek to Raven’s Ledge would likely end badly.

  Juarez sat on a stool at the breakfast bar, nodding when I indicated the coffeepot.

  “Erin’s still talking to Maya?” I asked.

  “Doesn’t sound like it’s going well,” he said.

  Great. It didn’t take a genius to know that if Maya was calling while Kat’s backpack was here—containing her soiled lab coat and a tidy supply of booze—then the honeymoon was over between the two women.

  While Solomon was on the phone, Cheyenne and the guys continued looking for any sign of Kat and the students in the immediate vicinity. Juarez and I talked around that for a few minutes, not really saying much of anything, before I decided I was tired of dancing.

  “So… You want to level with me and tell me why you really decided to brave plane, train, and fishing boat to get here? And don’t hand me anymore bullshit about being worried about Erin. I know you’re worried. This is a little excessive, though.”

  I pushed a mug of coffee toward him and took one for myself, pulling up a seat on the other side of the bar. He let me hang for a minute as he stirred creamer into his mug. Finally, he gave in.

  “I am worried. I have been for a while now. But you’re right—that’s not the only reason I’m here.” He hesitated. “Have you heard of Howard Rhodes?”

  I knew the name. It didn’t sit well with me. “Howard Rhodes, Deputy Director of Homeland Security? Yeah, I’ve heard of him. What’s his interest in this?”

  “J. Enterprises.”

  Sweat trickled down the back of my neck. The station, up until now downright chilly, seemed about forty degrees warmer. Solomon and I had heard of J. Enterprises for the first time a couple of weeks ago, but I still wasn’t completely clear on their significance. All I knew at this point was that they had something to do with Erin’s father, Mitch Cameron, and the drama we had all watched unfold in western Kentucky with a fundamentalist preacher by the name of Jesup Barnel.

  “You were already looking into J. Enterprises before I called last night?” I asked.

  “I started after the case in Kentucky,” he admitted. “When Jenny showed up last night and you told me about the connection with this Mitch Cameron, I had no choice but to go to Rhodes… I’m sorry, Diggs. I work for the FBI—I have certain responsibilities when I think something relates to an ongoing investigation with the Bureau.”

  He was right, of course. It rankled, but it had been a stupid assumption from the start that he would risk his career—and possibly our lives—by keeping his mouth shut, just because I’d asked nicely.

  “Erin’s already on the FBI’s radar,” Juarez continued. “You both are, which is why they’ve been monitoring you. Rhodes’ first inclination was to send me out this way at word of the explosion—I didn’t have to request the assignment. In case you haven’t noticed, very bad things tend to happen wherever you two go. Rhodes thinks Erin may be involved.”

  “With this J. Enterprises?” I said. He nodded briefly. “So, what the hell are they? What is this company Solomon’s supposedly in bed with? Because I’ve gotta tell you, so far we haven’t been able to find out a damn thing about them.”

  “I’m not sure, either,” Juarez admitted. “I’ve been digging, but all I come up with is another dummy company behind another shell corporation, more tax shelters and phony names. I’ve had my assistant trying to track them down, but she’s had no luck yet.”

  A shadow crossed his face, the faintest flicker of something in his eyes. Something tightened in my gut. Despite what he’d said, I still wasn’t completely sure what Juarez’s motives might be, or even why he was here with us. One thing was suddenly, infinitely
clear, though: He was lying now.

  I pretended I hadn’t noticed. “So, how much trouble are Solomon and I in, exactly? Should we be worried?”

  Any trace of subterfuge vanished in an instant. He looked me in the eye, his frank concern almost as unnerving as his lies a moment before. “I don’t know how far this extends or even what it’s all about, but part of the reason I jumped on this assignment was because someone needs to make Erin understand how serious this is.”

  “They can’t honestly think she has anything to do with this. How many times has she almost died in the past year? If she’s engineering this whole thing, she’s the worst fucking terrorist the world’s ever seen.”

  Jamie poked her head into the room before he could answer. We both shut up so abruptly that she cast a suspicious eye at us. “I talked to the Coast Guard and the cops… With the weather, no one can get out here until tomorrow morning. Which means if Erin’s mother and the students are still alive, we need to find them on our own—and soon. Temperatures are supposed to drop overnight.”

  “They expect us to stay out here until then?” I asked. “Did you mention the suicide note? Or the fact that everyone on the island has vanished into thin air?”

  “Gee, I must have forgotten that part.” She stepped into the room with a weary roll of her eyes. “Yeah, Diggs, they know. Their recommendation is that we get out of here now, while we still can.”

  “Meaning we could make it back to the mainland if we left now?” Juarez said.

  “There’s a window, if we leave in the next half hour or so,” she said. “Seas are already at three to five feet, and they’re predicting four to seven or higher by this afternoon.” She hesitated, lowering her voice. “I almost think it would be worth the effort, though. Erin’s looking a little rough as it is… Considering what we may well find out here, I don’t know if this is the best place for her.”

  “She won’t leave until we’ve found Kat,” I said. “Regardless of whether the rest of us stay or go. I can guarantee that.”

  “She’ll listen to you,” Juarez said. “If you tell her about the storm…”

  I quirked an eyebrow. “Seriously? You dated the woman—you really think anyone has any sway when she’s like this? Short of tranquilizer darts and a strait jacket, there’s no way you’re getting her on the boat without her mother.”

  “And even with the darts and the jacket, I’m not going peacefully,” Solomon said as she rounded the corner, inserting herself into both room and conversation. She faced off against Jamie, arms crossed. “Diggs is right: I’m not leaving until I find Kat. You guys can go if you want to. I’m not leaving her out here.”

  “We have no idea what we’ve stumbled onto here,” Jamie said. “This isn’t what I expected when I agreed to bring you out here. We have no clue what’s happened to Kat or the research students... An entire family could be dead. I’m sorry. My gut is telling me that whatever this is, it isn’t good. We could be in real danger out here.”

  “I know that,” Erin said. I expected her to argue, since in the past Solomon has been known to take threats to life and limb with a grain of salt. Instead, she bit her lip and took a second to consider the dilemma. “When is the Coast Guard coming?” she asked.

  “They should be here by o-six-hundred tomorrow morning,” Jamie said.

  “And in the meantime we have you, Cheyenne, Juarez, two armed former soldiers, and Diggs and me—both of whom are trained to use a gun, licensed to carry one, and currently armed. What else can we do to make this as safe as possible for everyone?”

  There was nothing snide in the question—she was genuinely asking. It was a reminder of just how much she had changed over the past year. When Solomon strong-armed me into our trek into the northern Maine woods last August, she’d given barely a thought to my safety or her own. Now, it seemed she was at least willing to consider the fact that none of us were invincible.

  Jamie considered the question. She scratched her forehead, clearly torn. She and Juarez shared a glance before the Fed intervened.

  “If we’re not going back, then the smart choice—the responsible one—would be for the civilians out here to hole up until the authorities arrive,” he said. “I could work with Carl and Monty to search for Kat.”

  “First off,” Jamie interrupted. “Carl and Monty are just as civilian as I am. Secondly, you’re not gonna find a damned thing without the dogs—not in this weather. And no one handles the dogs but Cheyenne and me.”

  “Look, we have snow and free-falling temperatures in the forecast,” Solomon said. “And my mother is out there somewhere, possibly hurt. Probably drunk. She…” She shook her head, her jaw set. “You want the truth? You can try to keep me in here—it won’t work. Short of shooting me or tying me down, I’m not waiting on the sidelines. I’m sorry, but the second your back is turned I’ll be out that door. We can fight about that inevitability, or you can accept it and come up with another plan. One that involves me being out there with you, searching for Kat. Please.”

  There was another hushed conversation between Jamie and Juarez, followed by three more minutes going around in circles before the decision was finally made: we would set out together, and we would remain together. As long as we could safely manage it, we would search the island. At the first sign of danger, however, we would come back to the research station and wait for help to arrive.

  And that was that. As we were heading out, I tugged Solomon back with a hand on her arm. The others went on without us. I didn’t like the shine to her eyes—a combination of fear, fatigue, and sadness that was becoming all too familiar.

  “What the hell, Diggs—”

  “Settle down,” I said, once the others were out of earshot. “When Kat’s safely back here, we need to talk. We were right about Juarez… He’s definitely hiding something.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.”

  She gnawed on her lip, considering for a long few seconds before she shook her head. “I can’t think about that until we have Kat back. Let’s focus on one disaster at a time.”

  ◊◊◊◊◊

  Four hours later, we were still focused on the same disaster, with little progress.

  “We’ll knock off for lunch soon,” Jamie said. She led the charge, the rest of us fanned out while we waited for the dogs to catch a scent. A miserable wet snow drove down, and the entire search party—both human and canine—was soaked and frozen.

  “I don’t need to stop,” Solomon said. “Maybe I could just keep going, and I’ll meet up with you guys after you’ve eaten.”

  The sun had never broken through the clouds, though by now it was midday. I couldn’t feel my fingers or my toes, the temperature hovering at around freezing for most of the day. I was cold and tired and scared as hell, and at the moment all I wanted was to head back to the mainland.

  Juarez was the kind of man who would stay with Solomon in the freezing cold and driving snow, I knew. No matter how long it took to find her mother, he would keep going. Even though her mother was probably dead—or at the very least, incapacitated and drunk off her ass. I’m not Juarez. I was dead on my feet, and Solomon’s teeth were actually, physically chattering, for Christ’s sake. Einstein’s tongue lolled, his head down as he plodded along beside Erin.

  “You might not need to stop,” I said, nodding toward the mutt, “but I don’t think Stein’s on the same page.”

  She looked guilty instantly, which of course had been the point. Solomon thinks of that damned dog’s welfare above everyone else’s, including mine. I wasn’t above exploiting that weakness for her—and my—benefit.

  “Maybe you could take him back to the station,” she said.

  “Forget it,” Jamie said, before I could say the same. “We had an agreement. You’ll come back to the station with the rest of us, refuel, and then we’ll head back out again to finish up with the rest of the island.”

  Solomon didn’t argue. That alone spoke volumes about her level
of exhaustion.

  At the station, the pantry was stocked with homemade bread and massive cans of Spam, tuna fish, and chicken noodle soup. I found a small jar of natural peanut butter and some slightly furry grape jelly and contented myself with PB&J, setting toasted tuna and a bowl of soup in front of Solomon. Then, the team sat down at the over-long picnic table in the dining room and talked strategy. Solomon, Cheyenne, and I sat on one side of the table, Monty and Carl across from us. Jamie and Juarez sat on either end, as though presiding over the meal.

  “We’ve already gone over the whole damn north shore,” Monty said. He was the shorter of the two men, powerfully built, with a southern accent and the voice of a master orator. A master orator with a filthy sense of humor—which meant Solomon, of course, loved him. “If anybody’s on the other side of the island, the dogs should’ve caught the scent by now. What the hell good’re they doing otherwise? Jesus, they’re like a virgin trying to find the clit, these dogs.”

  “The wind and snow are throwing them off,” Jamie said. “But it won’t be much longer—you’re right, there are only so many places to search on an island this size.”

  “The missing family makes me nervous,” Carl said. Carl was from Nigeria, his accent so thick it was hard to understand much of what he said. That worked out all right, though, since he rarely spoke. His skin was a dark, rich ebony, his face marked with tribal scars. “One missing woman is one thing. A dozen men, women, and children, though... If they were alive, we would have found them by now.”

  “Is the storm supposed to get worse before morning?” Juarez asked.

  “The snow should stop by midnight,” Jamie said. “With the cold front coming in, though, whatever’s falling now will freeze overnight. The whole island will be a solid sheet of ice by morning.”

  Sobered, I noticed Solomon’s eye drift toward the clock. She fed a hunk of her sandwich to Einstein when she thought no one was looking, then left the last couple of bites uneaten. Less than ten minutes after we’d sat down, she was on her feet again.