Meg knew that voice. It belonged to the man in the alley that had tried to kill her. And her shivering became more violent.
“That’s the guy from the alley,” she whispered.
Alex held tightly to the glass jar with one hand and the flashlight in the other. He was prepared to use the only weapon he had to protect himself and Meg.
The flashlight in the man’s hand suddenly clicked to life and swept the room. Alex and Meg leaned back against the wall, trying not to be seen. Something shiny and large was hanging from the intruders hand as he walked into the basement room.
The light arced around the room once more, and this time landed on Meg and Alex huddled against the wall.
“Well, look here. It’s the heiress and her boyfriend,” he said in a slurred voice. His head still wrapped in a bloody red bandana, he looked around the room. He knew he had the upper hand in this fight.
“Stay away from us,” Alex said more forcefully than he felt. His hands were still by his sides to hide the glass jars.
“Well, I’m not going to hurt you, Meg. I want you alive. The boyfriend, though, has to go.” He stepped into the middle of the tiny room and Alex clicked his flashlight on in the intruder’s eyes. Automatically, he reached to shade his eyes. The huge meat hook dangled from his hand. The silver hook was used to move sides of beef in a packing house. If it could move half of a cow, it could do some real damage to a live human being.
Standing quickly while the intruder was still blinded, Alex rushed at the man and smashed the jar into the side of his head. Staggering, he swung the hook at Alex. Alex jumped back at the last possible moment before the sharp point caught him in the mid-section. Meg screamed from the other side of the room.
Chung swung the hook again and Alex caught it with the flashlight, trying to yank it out of his hand. But, the artist was no match for the murderer who had more experience with the violent hook. The flashlight went rolling to the other side of the room. Meg instinctively dove for the light. Grabbing it, she rolled onto her back and shined it into Robert Chung’s eyes again. That was all the time Alex needed to back away and reach for another weapon. The only other things in the basement were more canning jars and blankets. Grabbing what he could find, he smashed the end of the jar against the moldy wall and held the jagged glass in one hand, and the end of a blanket in the other. Maybe he could ward off the blow of the hook with the snapping blanket.
Chung smiled a greasy smile. “Like shooting fish in a barrel.” He swung the meat hook one more time at Alex. Alex whipped the blanket at the intruder and caught the meat hook, but not before it tore through his shirt and sliced the skin underneath. Warm liquid oozed under his clothing. Alex swung the jar, grazing the man’s face. Chung backed away, wiping his face with the back of his hand in astonishment.
“Okay, no more playing.” He lunged toward Alex again. Holding one end, Alex lashed out with the blanket to throw the murderer off balance, and this time Chung caught it, pulling him in closer so he could plunge the hook into Alex, when something hard hit his hand. Meg flung the flashlight from the other side of the tiny room, knocking the hook from Chung’s hand. Both men dove for the hook just as a horrible ripping began above them. All heads looked up to see the ceiling bulge up and then come crashing down with horrible finality.
The hurricane was demolishing the shop, trapping all who were inside. The last thing Meg remembered was the sound of the crashing ceiling and being unable to move her legs. Then everything went black.
Chapter 37
“I don’t care if there’s a storm out there! My mother is on that island and you have to get me out there to find her!” Jon yelled into the phone. Greg managed to get through to the Coast Guard—no small feat considering the weather. But, their job was search and rescue and Jon expected them to do it. He was used to telling people what to do, and he was used to his subordinates following his orders. Things weren’t working out so well this time.
“I want to talk to your boss. What was your name again Sargent? Well, Sgt. Warner, who is your supervisor? Get him on the phone. What do you mean, he’s busy?”
“Sir, maybe I could help,” Greg said, taking the phone from Jon’s hand and patting him on the shoulder. Jon stood helpless, a feeling he was not used to. He was always in charge. This time things were different. Tears sprang to his eyes as he looked out into the angry ocean from the office at the dock. The windows rattled and the waves crashed up against the hurricane proof structure. Would he ever see his mother again, and why didn’t he insist she stay with him last night? At least he could have kept her from going back to the island.
“The good thing is that it’s a fast-moving storm,” Greg said, handing the phone back to his employer.
“Why is that a good thing?” Jon asked, beaten.
“The eye of the storm is directly over the island right now and will be headed for us next. They expect the storm to turn south and follow the coastline. When that happens the choppers will be ready to go. The search and rescue units will be sent to the island and I’ve secured a seat for both of us to go with them. I’m sorry I couldn’t talk her out if it, Sir. I love her too. I’ll not sit idly by to see if she is found. I’ll be in the middle of it with you.”
Jon relaxed. Greg was right. He did love Meg too, and he was going to risk life and limb to help find her.
“What about your family?”
“Safe at home in the basement. Besides, if the storm is moving back out onto water like they think, it will all be over with soon here on the mainland.”
“You’re a good man, Greg. Remind me to give you a raise.”
“I don’t need a raise, Sir, I just need your mother back.”
Chapter 38
“The Mosquito” headed south along the shoreline. If the weather caught up with him, Fitzgerald didn’t want to be out in the middle of the ocean. He needed to be close to shore in case the boat was swamped.
The engine roared, coughed once—and then sat silent.
“Not now,” Fitzgerald said to no one. He was alone and now was not the time for the aging engine to die. “Shit!” he said, jumping down the few steps to the engine room. Smoke billowed from the motor and he slid the tool box out from under the cabinet.
Running back topside, he dropped the anchor. Repairs might take a while and he didn’t want to be dragged out to sea with the sky darkening behind him. Then he descended the steps again, hoping he could fix whatever was wrong this time. He had been the mechanic and captain of this bucket of bolts for a long time and they had a special relationship. She broke down, and he fixed her back up.
He thought about the radio but knew his “Mayday” would go unheard with the storm. The radio waves would be full of emergency calls. Besides, he didn’t think he wanted to run into the authorities right now. He and Victoria had been living on the edge lately and they were close to being set for life. Well, she was. He hoped she still remembered his name after she became a Stanford.
He sat on the floor and folded his knees under him where he could reach the toolbox.
“Okay old girl, what’s wrong this time?” he asked as the wind began to howl. The stormy sea wasn’t going to make this repair job any easier as he and the tool box rocked from side to side. Out to sea alone with a hurricane coming at him in a hurry, Fitzgerald knew he might be making the last repair of his life on his tugboat.
****
Meg woke once or twice in the hot, twisted basement. Her legs felt paralyzed and she tried again and again to sit up, to no avail. Even slight movements were impossible. Each time she did, the pain through her right side was excruciating. She was pinned under the collapsed building and no one knew where she was. Then she thought of Alex.
“Alex!” she tried to shout. But, it came out in small exhales, making it harder to breath. She thought she heard movement from the other side of the room before she passed out again.
As she lay in the rubble, she dreamed of her beach house and the tide pools. Tiny fish swa
m around her legs and crabs walked sideways to get away from her. The ocean waves roared as the tide threatened to come back and swallow up her minute world, but she would stay until the first wave tried to take it away. Then she saw Evan down the beach walking toward her. He smiled at her and extended his hand. She looked into the deeply tanned face and emerald green eyes that danced when he smiled. Was this real? Her love. How long it had been since she had seen him. How long since he had wrapped his arms around her, and then he stopped before she could reach out and touch him.
“Time to go, Meg,” he said, stepping back. “Time for you to go back.”
The wave rolled into the tide pool and sucked out the first of the tiny fish. She knew the next wave would be bigger. She looked out at the insistent sea and saw it coming for her—the next wave was much larger than normal.
“Go back,” he said and then he disappeared as she reached for him.
“I think I’ve found something!” shouted a voice above her head over the roar of the heavy machinery. She thought the storm was still raging, then she realized that the noise she heard was the sound of a crane sliding down and scooping up debris in its massive jaws. “Hold it!” the voice shouted. It sounded oddly familiar.
Wood and bricks were pulled from over her head. She heard the sound of voices calling out to each other and shouts of “stop!” at the crane operator. Suddenly, there was movement all around her and the board directly above her head was pushed aside. Heavenly sunshine poured down on her head. The air smelled sweet, like after a rain. A gentle hand brushed her hair back from her face. “Mom,” said a familiar voice and then she passed out again.
Meg woke to excruciating pain as the boards that held her legs captive were moved and she was lifted out of the basement. Something warm and wet ran down her shirt and her breathing remained painful and shallow. She might never breathe deeply again. Looking up, she saw Greg’s smiling face as he helped Jon and the Coast Guard captain move her onto a stretcher. A needle was inserted in her arm, but she barely felt it.
She looked around, but Alex was nowhere to be seen. “Alex?” she asked, but she was told not to talk. “Where is he?”
“I told you paperwork wasn’t worth your life,” Greg said, pushing her hair back away from her face.
“Backpack,” she whispered and passed out again as the pain edged away.
Chapter 39
“There is someone I think you will want to talk to,” Jon said to the Corpus Christi detectives after leaving his mother’s side at the hospital that day. Meg remained in a drug-induced coma to aid her healing, but the doctors assured Jon she was going to be fine. “His name is Poppy, and I’m sure he knows more than most anyone around. He came to me after the ferry brought him to the mainland the night of the hurricane and told me that Mom went back to the island, and she was being followed.”
“It’s too late for the ferry tonight, but we can get one of the police boats to take us over. Will he be there?” Detective Arnold asked.
“Where would he go? He lives there in an apartment and I can show you where. He knows everything that goes on at the island. Let’s go.” Jon quickly rose from the chair.
As the police cruiser pulled up to the dock where the ferry sat at night, Jon helped tie it off and climbed out of the boat. He directed the detectives down the road toward the less desirable side of town. The tourists never traveled to this section of the island. The streets were dark with a few lights still shining through some of the windows. Most of the island was asleep.
Jon walked up old wooden steps that led to the upstairs apartment. The light was on at the top and the wooden door open, but the screen closed. With no air conditioner, the windows were open too, and the sea breeze blew through the rusty window screens.
“He’s there,” Jon said, knocking on the door and calling out Poppy’s name. “You in there? It’s Jon Stanford.” The lights were on, but there was no movement inside the tiny apartment.
Jon knocked again.
“You guys need something?” came a call from down below. Poppy stood at the bottom of the stairs with a fishing pole over his shoulder and a tackle box in his hand.
“I thought you were home with all the lights on.”
“Works, don’t it?” the old man said as he climbed the steps past the police detectives and worked his way to the door.
“What works?”
“You thought I was home. I leave the lights on so no one will rob me. If they think I’m home, they’ll just keep on walking.”
“Who would rob you on this island?” Jon asked.
“Well, there are new people on the island all summer long, and you just never know,” he said as he opened his door and ushered them inside. “Jon, you’ve never been to my place before. I’ll bet you’re here to talk about Meg. Am I right?”
“You’re right, sir,” Detective Samuels said.
“It’s just Poppy, not sir.”
“Okay. Can we come in and talk to you?”
“Sure, but there ain’t a lot of room.”
The square room had yellow peeling wallpaper and a bed along one wall that doubled as a sofa. The kitchen area held a small table with two chairs. The sink was full of dirty dishes that were probably never washed. A tiny two-burner stove held a pot of leftovers from his last meal, and the rusty refrigerator hummed noisily through a door that didn’t close completely. The only other room seemed to be the bathroom that backed up to the kitchen. Jon wondered if the apartment was up to code, but he knew it was the best that the old man could afford. Without it, he would be sleeping on the dock.
They were gestured to the chairs and Jon took one turning it around and sat. Poppy plopped down on the bed. The detectives stood with their hands behind their backs except when they pulled out notebooks and began to write.
“What do you know about Mike Fitzgerald?” The detective wrote in his notebook as Poppy began to speak.
“Well, I know he weren’t a nice guy, if you know what I mean. He paid me a hundred dollars to find out where Robert Chung was these days. I mean that’s a month’s rent so I took it. I asked around, found out that he hadn’t gone too far. He was just over in Rockport. Didn’t take me long to make that hundred dollars.”
“How did you find him?” Jon asked.
“I knows people, you know. When you been around as long as I have, you get to know people. I don’t have a lot to do, so I took the ferry to Corpus and asked around. I found him quick. He’d been there all along. He didn’t run far.”
“All along? Since when?” Detective Arnold looked quizzically at the old man.
“Since he was hired to kill Evan and then told to leave the island.”
“Evan Miller?”
“Yeah, Miller, that was his last name. You know, Jon, your daddy. I guess this ain’t the first time you heard that story, right?”
“No,” Jon said, thinking of his mother. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard that my father was murdered. But, why did it take you until now to mention it to someone?”
“Nobody asked me, I guess. Anyway, I didn’t have nuthin’ to do with it only carry the package from Graham to Robert. I had nuthin’ more to do with it than that. If I’d known what the note said, I’d never have delivered it. I like your mom. She’s always been good to me. I didn’t know until afterward what the note and the money was for. I ran errands for Graham all the time. Probably ’cause he knew I couldn’t read the notes. Well, that and he paid me to keep quiet. So, I did.”
“You delivered the note to Robert Chung telling him to murder Evan Miller, and that note came from Graham Stanford?” Detective Samuels’ question sounded more like a statement. “How do you know if you couldn’t read the note?”
“Well, I heard Graham talking to one of the guys that worked for him about it. He said he had me deliver the note ’cause he knew I wouldn’t talk. I guess it’s okay to talk about it now that Graham is dead. I don’t work for him no more.”
“Yes, it’s okay.” Jon ran hi
s hands through his hair. His mother was right. Robert Chung had killed his father and then thirty years later he was hired again. Had Fitzgerald hired Chung to kill his mother too—or kidnap her? Anyone who knew them knew that Jon would pay anything to keep his mother alive. Kidnapping her was a better money-maker than whatever Fitzgerald had paid him to kill her. And did Victoria fit into this story?
“Do you know Victoria Chung?” Jon looked the old man in the eye.
“You mean your girlfriend?” he looked at Jon quizzically.
“Is there anything you don’t know?”
“Not much I guess, at least not on this little island. I know most everyone and they probably know me.”
“I imagine you’re right. But, what do you know about Victoria?”
“Well, she’s your girlfriend. You probably know all about her.” Poppy squirmed uncomfortably on the bed/couch. “What you might not know is that she grew up here on the island. Her daddy was a shipper until he went broke. Little Vicky Chung hung around the dock all the time as a kid, and then as soon as school was over she took off to the big city and never looked back. I don’t think she liked it here very much.”
“So, she and Robert were related?”
“Sure. Her dad and his dad was brothers. Robert was always the bad guy in town. If there was trouble, he was in the middle of it to be sure. So when Graham needed some dirty deed done he paid Robert. It always made Vicky’s daddy mad that Graham helped him along in his life of crime. That much was sure. They had words over it more than once.”
“So, Mike Fitzgerald paid you to deliver a note to Chung to either kill or kidnap Meg, is that right?” Detective Samuels asked.
“I ain’t in any trouble am I?” Poppy looked pleadingly at Jon.
“No, I’ll see to it you don’t get into trouble. Just tell the detectives the truth. It’s important.”
“I was paid a hundred dollars to find Robert Chung and deliver the note to him just like the first time. But, really I didn’t know the note was about Meg. I would have never done that to her. She’s a nice lady. Is she gonna be okay after the building fell on her?”
Secrets of Sandhill Island Page 17
