Secrets In The Breeze

by David Banner

  "On the sand?" He chuckled. "Ain't no beer on the sand. But there's beer in my boat."

  "The boat it is then!"

  We spent the next few hours sitting under the warm Gulf sun with Randy telling me everything there was to know about the water surrounding our small island home. He especially seemed to love stories of treasure and the thought of what kind of secrets could be found on the bottom of the ocean floor.

  "There's a whole other world down there! Some of it just not meant for man." He dropped a large net into the water.

  "Better not go messing around with that part ..." I laughed, taking a swig of my Corona. "So, what's it gonna be, Randy? You gonna be my guy or not?"

  "You seem like good people. I think I'll give you a chance."

  "Awesome!" I said.

  "I just have one rule."

  "What's that?" I asked.

  "You gotta go fishing with me, just once," he said. "The water needs to see you."

  "Fine. Just tell me when."

  "Tomorrow morning," he said. "Meet me here at five a.m."

  "That's early. But if that’s what it takes ..."

  "That’s what it takes," he said.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  "H ELLO, MR. WATERS," A VOICE ECHOED THROUGH MY BEDROOM.

  I quickly sat up straight and turned on the lamp beside me. Standing at the foot of my bed were two men, neither of whom looked to be very happy to see me. My mind quickly jumped to the gun I kept in my bedside dresser, but not wanting to make any sudden moves I kept my hands where they were, at my sides.

  "Who are you?" I asked.

  "My name is Nicholas Garcia," the taller man said.

  With the only light coming from my small lamp, it was hard to make out all his features. I could tell he had dark, slicked back hair, and wide shoulders. His voice was drenched in a thick, Spanish accent, but he spoke fluent English.

  "Why are you here?"

  "It seems that your recent actions have hurt the business of my employer," he said, folding his hands in front of his waist.

  "I'm sorry?"

  "Yes," he said. "I'm sure you will be. But because of you, and your little investigation, my employer has lost a lot of money."

  "How?"

  "It seems that you have taken it upon yourself to become a vigilante for justice, trying to make the world right. Yes?"

  "I ... No."

  "My employer had a very lucrative and specific arrangement with Mr. Robert Webber. The man your photos have destroyed." He pulled a phone from his pocket and tossed it on my bed.

  Looking down, I immediately recognized it as mine, the one I dropped on the street a few days before. It made a little more sense then, but what was this man talking about, what business, who was his employer?

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Go on the news and admit to staging to the photos, to editing them. Admit they were fake, and that you have some childish vendetta against Mr. Webber," he said. "Do that, and all of this comes to an end."

  "All of what?" I asked.

  But as soon as the words left my mouth, I felt an overwhelming sickness fall across me. Could he be talking about Micah, or even Rachel. Was there someone standing above their beds, holding a gun to their heads as they slept? "Is there anyone else in this house?" I asked.

  "Don't worry. Your brother is safe. He's sleeping like a baby."

  "Leave," I said.

  "Is that your answer?"

  "Yes!" I replied.

  "That's not the right answer. So, I'll tell you what. This island seems like a nice little place to relax for a day. I'll tell my employer that you were unavailable. Take that extra time to come to your senses. I work for a very powerful person, capable of many, many things, Mr. Waters. Admit the photos are fake and nothing will go wrong."

  "They aren't fake."

  "The truth is what we make it, Mr. Waters. Just like life." He turned to walk away. "That is if you're lucky enough to be living it."

  I sat there, trying not to make a sound, trying to listen for the door closing or a car driving away. But I heard nothing, and after a few minutes the curiosity became too great. I threw the covers off, and headed down the hall to Micah's room. I hoped they were telling the truth, that nothing had happened to him. With each step my heart began to race faster and faster. If they were lying, if anything had happened to my brother ...

  Opening the door to his room I saw the shape of his body under the blankets. They were in a twisted mess all around him, which for Micah, was normal. He had never been the easiest sleeper, tossing and turning all night long. But I had to see his face. I wanted to see his chest rise and fall as he breathed in and out. Just so I knew he was okay.

  I walked over to him and standing by his side, pulled the blanket down, and stared at him for a long minute. Relief washed over me as I saw he was okay. Deep in his sleep and completely unaware of what had just happened.

  I left his room and headed down to the kitchen. It was 3:52 a.m. and I was supposed to meet Randy in just over an hour, and I knew there was no way I could go back to sleep. Not with the speed my blood had been pumping for the last few minutes.

  So, after drinking down almost the entire carton of orange juice, I went back up to my bedroom, took a long hot shower, and headed out the door to meet Randy. I love the beach at night, just a little while before the sun comes up, when the sky begins to get a few shades lighter, and the waves start to sing.

  I had always loved the sound of the water at night. Most people would tell you it’s the same sound as the water in the day, but it isn't. There are no birds, no ambient background noise to drown out, or interfere with, the water. It is as though you hear every part of the ocean in front of you, and almost nothing from the land behind you.

  "Early again!" Randy exclaimed. "Can't beat that."

  "Guess not." I smiled, trying my best to put the events of the night into the back of my mind.

  "Well. Let’s head out!"

  "Where are we going? I asked.

  "Just a few miles down the coast. Longboat Key. Won't take very long."

  "I thought you guys head way out into the gulf." I said.

  "Lots of fisherman do. That’s why I don't." He smiled. "I know a little place to find the best oysters that'll ever slide across your tongue. Just off the coast."

  "Let’s go!"

  The sight of the Gulf morning looked a little different out on the water. It was beautiful and amazing. Pelicans fly over us as the sun comes up and I watch in childlike wonder as they swoop down and grab up breakfast in their large beaks. Looking at them I realize we're here for the same reason and for whatever reason, it made me smile.

  "Beautiful, aren't they?" Randy said.

  "They are."

  "They always know where to get the best fish too. All ya gotta do is follow 'em," he said, dropping a net, and letting it drag the bottom of the water as we approached Longboat Key.

  The image of Hope's face flashed through my mind as it sometimes did, even without provocation. I wondered where she was and if she was okay. Whether she had found someone who made her feel a little less alone. Maybe she had gone back down to the Everglades to be with Mike, but somehow, I doubted it.

  I wasn't worried about her, I knew the girl could take care of herself, she had proven that time and again. I just wanted her to be happy, to have found some peace in her chaotic world.

  We spent the next hour floating around just off the coast. It seemed the morning sun had taken away Randy's desire to tell stories, instead leaving him staring out into the distance, likely dreaming about the ocean and the secrets he knew it was keeping.

  I would have never seen this coming, not in a million years. If someone had told me that my brothers arrest would trigger a series of events that sent me moving to Florida's gorgeous, and welcoming, Gulf Coast, I would have said they were crazy. But here I was, happy and truly content.

  "Well," Randy spoke up after another hour. "Let's pull her up."

  To
gether we began turning the small crank. Not that I was needed, I was sure Randy must have turned that thing a thousand times or more all by himself, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted to feel the weight of the fish under my hands. I wanted to be a part of it.

  I watched with an almost giddy excitement as the net surfaced. There must have been a hundred oysters in the damn thing, not to mention a few other choice sea life, such as Mahi-Mahi and Red Snapper. Just seeing them made my stomach growl and my mouth water. And for a moment, I was happy.

  "What's that?" I asked, pointing to a large red glob in the middle of the net.

  "Probably trash," Randy said, pulling the net over. "I told you, the ocean is full of secrets. You'd be surprised what sometimes comes up."

  But what happened next was the last thing I was expecting from this trip. It was almost as though it happened in slow motion. Randy pulled at the red glob, then turned back to me with a look of concern on his face. Something was very wrong, and I knew it.

  The wet glob turned out to be a blanket, and as I got closer, I saw what it was that had Randy looking so worried. Wrapped up inside of it was the body of a woman. I felt my stomach churn as the reality of what was happening washed over me.

  I knew her, I recognized her face and her long brown hair. The body lying in front of me was that of Sharon Rhodes. The woman who only days before came to me asking for help, telling me she was in fear for her life. The same woman who hadn’t shown up like she said she would. Only, I had been so busy with helping my brother that I'd forgotten about her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  "G O OVER IT WITH ME ONE MORE TIME," THE DETECTIVE SAID.

  "I've told the other officer everything I can. We were fishing, and when we pulled the net up she was in it," I replied.

  "And you didn't see anyone or anything strange in the water beforehand? No other boats ... nothing?"

  "Right," I said. "It was early, we were the only ones out there."

  "And Officer Swanson tells me you know this woman."

  "That’s not exactly true. I don't really know her. We met briefly. Once."

  "And what were the circumstances of that meeting?" the detective asked.

  I knew that telling him the truth would only set me up for a million more questions I had no real answer for. If I told him that she’d come to me for help and I turned her away, I'd probably be carted off to the police station and interrogated for hours and unable to provide any real information.

  Telling them about our conversation didn't seem in my best interest either. I really didn't need to get myself involved in another ongoing murder investigation. And if they thought I had any information about anything, I might never make it back home. Besides, I had no real proof it was true.

  "I don't remember," I said. "I think we met at the ATM or something, it was a while ago."

  "And you don't remember what it was the two of you talked about?"

  "Not really. Just trying to be friendly I guess."

  "And was that on Anna Maria Island or here in Longboat? The officer asked.

  "I really don't remember where it was. Like I said, it was a while ago."

  "Right ..."

  I could tell he wasn't buying into much of what I was saying, and I couldn't blame him really. It was his job to be suspicious and I wasn't being exactly truthful. But I had no information to go on just yet. I turned the case away, refusing to help an obviously frightened woman. It wasn't a good feeling.

  But that didn't mean I had to let it stay that way. I could still try to figure out what happened. I could try to protect those children from any further damage. "Did she have kids?" I asked.

  "We won't be giving out any information on the victim this early in the investigation. That is; unless you have some information about how her having kids would be relevant to her death?"

  "No ..." I said. "I was just curious."

  "Well, if there are kids involved, I'm sure they'll be well cared for."

  'RING'

  "Okay ..." I said, pulling the phone from my pocket. "Hello."

  "Is Rachel with you?" Micah asked.

  "No," I said. "I haven't seen her since yesterday."

  "Well, there's a girl here waiting for her. Said she had an interview scheduled for half an hour ago."

  "Have you tried calling her?" I asked.

  "Gee ... I never thought of that," Micah said. "Of course, I called her. She didn't pick up."

  "I'll go over there and check up on—"

  "What?"

  "Nothing," I said. "Just stay there!"

  "What am I supposed to do with this girl?"

  "I don't care. Interview her yourself. I'll call you back. Micah, stay there and call me if anything happens."

  "Anything like what?"

  "Just anything!" I said and hung up the phone.

  Frantically I dialed Rachel’s phone repeatedly, but after about the fifth time of getting no answer I ran back over to Randy, who, from the looks of it, was done with his interview. "Drive me back to Anna Maria!"

  "Everything okay there, boy?" he asked.

  "Just take me back. Now, please. It's an emergency!"

  "Alright!'

  About twenty minutes later we were back on Anna Maria Island. I ran to my Jeep, hopped in, and drove as fast as I could to Rachel’s apartment, dialing her phone repeatedly the whole way. How could I have been so stupid as to not go directly over there after what happened last night. I made sure to check on Micah, but I hadn't even tried to call Rachel.

  If anything had happened to her I would never forgive myself. I knew better than to let her come with me in the first place. After everything that happened she belonged back home, in a place where she knew people. In the place she had built a life. The place she felt safe. Not living in some apartment on an island she didn't know. I should have told her no, to stay back in Miami, but I didn't. I failed her.

  Arriving at her apartment, my heart sank as I approached her door. My eyes focused on one of the worst signs I could have gotten. Her door was ajar, something I knew Rachel would never let happen if she was there. I pushed it open and was greeted by what looked like the scene of a struggle.

  Pillows from the small couch lay messily on the floor. A broken bottle of wine sat dripping from the coffee table, and Rachel was nowhere to be found. It was exactly as I feared. She was gone, and it was all my fault.

  "Mr. Waters," a familiar voice said.

  I turned to see Nicholas standing in the doorway. In the light of day his features looked more angular, harsher than they had under the soft glow of my lamp. He was taller than me, and more muscular, and where I was generally clean-shaven he obviously worked hard on keeping his goatee trimmed to perfection.

  "Where is Rachel?" I asked, anger boiling up in my voice.

  "No need to get upset, Mr. Waters. Rachel will be well taken care of."

  "She has nothing to do with this."

  "I just thought that maybe you could use a little incentive, on why exactly you should do what we ask."

  "Do you honestly think I'll comply with kidnappers?" I said.

  "Do you honestly think I won't feed her to the sharks if you don't?" He smiled wide.

  "Let me see her."

  "Of course." He smiled again. "Come out onto the balcony."

  I followed him out onto the small balcony that led to Rachel’s door. He stood beside me, pointed to a black car, and lifted his arm into the air. I watched the window roll down and saw Rachel’s head pop out. Her mouth was covered in silver tape and there was a hand wrapped around her throat. She looked up at me, tears streaming down her face. The distant murmur of her muffled scream carried across the warm Gulf air.

  "Let’s talk," I said, walking back into the apartment.

  Nicholas followed behind and turning quickly on my heels I used the one advantage I had, surprise. From the long table next to the door, I grabbed a seashell lamp and slammed it into his face as hard as I possibly could. The blow sent him tumbling to the ground as
I dug my foot into his back.

  "Tell them to release her!" I said.

  But he was strong, and almost as quickly as he hit the floor he was right back up again, heading straight for me. I turned and made my way into the small kitchen just left of the living room. I could feel Nicholas only steps behind me as I pulled the refrigerator door open and slammed it hard against his body.

  The blow didn't do much to slow him down though. It did, however, seem to make him just a little angrier. "You should have just cooperated!" he said.

  "Let her go!" I said, grabbing a knife from the rack, and jabbing it into the back of his knee.

  He fell toward the ground, hard. Part of his large frame hit me on the way down and sent me stumbling out of the kitchen and back into the living room. I needed to get to Rachel as quickly as possible, before he managed to get word to whoever was driving that I was coming. I couldn't let them see me run out of this place alone or they would know.

  Rummaging through the apartment I found a roll of brown packing tape. It wasn't much, but it was all I had, and I figured it might buy me a few extra minutes. I picked it up and ran back over to Nicholas wrapping it around his arms and legs until the roll ran dry.

  I needed to get to Rachel, but I needed another way out. I ran back into her bedroom and pushed open the window. I was sure that if I climbed out, and scaled along the edge of the balcony, I could go unseen long enough to get down to my car then over to Rachel.

  As I climbed out, I took one final look back and saw Nicholas writhing on the floor, trying to break himself free. I knew that tape wouldn't be strong enough to hold him for much longer, so with little time available, I leapt off the second-floor balcony, landing hard on my feet and tumbling forward.

  It took less than thirty seconds for me to get back to my car, turn the key, slam the door, and head for Rachel. This was it, I could get to the black car before they knew I was coming and I then would get her back. At least, that was the plan.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I SLAMMED ON THE GAS PEDAL, HEADING AROUND THE CORNER AND STRAIGHT FOR THE BLACK CAR SITTING THERE. It couldn't have been more than a few hundred feet away, but they must have been watching closer than I thought, because before I knew it, they were speeding off down the street.