“And it’s a woman,” Curt noticed. She had a body that even the uniform couldn’t hide.
“Jeez, that second boat’s a mess. You don’t think—” Scott cut himself off.
The leading boat drew close to the side dock as the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission officer stood at the console, steering with precision. Her long brunette hair flowed from underneath her cap and the dark sunglasses gave a defiant look in Curt’s direction as he approached the edge.
“Need some help?” Curt offered.
For a moment she did not respond. Then she said, “Yes. Here, you can tie me off.” She threw Curt the rope, and he deftly looped a series of figure-eights around the large cleat securing the vessel to the dock. He noticed a peculiar stench emanating from the vessel, yet it was empty. A flat tarp covered the back floorboard like a rug.
Scott moved closer to assist. The officer untied the towline from the back of her boat and tossed it to Scott. He pulled the second boat slowly through the water and tied it off at the back dock cleat. The officer pulled her boat flush with the side of the dock, and Curt offered his hand to help her up. She briefly glanced at him then stepped onto the dock, ignoring his gesture of assistance.
“I’m glad I could help,” Curt muttered barely above a whisper.
She wheeled around and stared at him through the dark sunglasses. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” she said in a harsh tone.
“Um, I really love kelp. I recently added it to my diet.”
The officer didn’t flinch. Instead, she patted her holstered weapon. “Lucky for you, assholes are out of season right now.”
Curt noticed a faint accent; European, maybe. He discreetly dropped his eyes to admire her figure. Unfortunately, it was not discreet enough, and she whipped off her sunglasses, revealing a look of anger in her brown eyes.
Fortunately for Curt, Scott intervened. “Officer Canstar,” Scott said, glancing at her nametag, “do you know whose boat this is? We’re searching for someone. We received a frantic call, and we believe she might have been out on the water.”
Curt added, “The woman we’re looking for is my ex-wife. I believe she would have rented a boat like this.”
Another boat raced up to the dock, slowed quickly, and eased against the floating dock. An African American man wearing sunglasses quickly tied off, jumped out, and approached the threesome. Curt had never seen someone command a boat so skillfully and with such minimal effort.
“Pardon me, Officer, I’m looking for someone who’s gone missing on the water. This may be her boat,” the man said, removing his sunglasses. His azure eyes radiated in the sunlight.
“Um, excuse me,” Curt stepped up, “we were here first. We have our own missing person, thank you.”
Canstar momentarily glared at Curt then turned and fixed the well-built, blue-eyed man in her gaze. Her entire demeanor softened toward him. To Curt’s dismay, her lips creased into a smile. Then Officer Canstar regarded all three men for a moment. “This is a rental, but we haven’t identified the registration yet. I’m waiting to hear back from dispatch.”
“My name is Samuel Tolen,” the man said. “May I take a look at the registration decal?”
Canstar waved him forward.
Tolen dropped to his knees and peered at the underside of the bow. “This is the boat I’m looking for.”
Curt felt a touch of relief. At least this wasn’t Lila’s boat. Then he looked down at the craft, and it was even more grisly up close. A foul smell emanated from somewhere within. The entire rear of the boat appeared to have been incinerated, yet the tarp on the back floorboard was pristine. “What happened?”
Officer Canstar popped her sunglasses back on. “I found the boat backed into the river bank off the swamp at Pacetti Point. There was no sign of anyone.” Canstar turned to Tolen, who had risen to his feet and stepped alongside the stern to examine the damage. “Who’s missing?”
“Dr. Lila Falls, an archaeologist. She was accompanied by another woman, a University of North Florida graduate assistant, Kira Compton.”
“What?” Curt blurted out, staring in disbelief. “You’re looking for Lila, too?”
“Are you another ex-husband?” Canstar asked Tolen in a light tone that seemed flirtatious to Curt.
“No, he’s not an ex-husband,” Curt answered defiantly on Tolen’s behalf. His mistrust of the man instantly peaked. He turned toward Tolen. “How do you know Lila?”
Tolen spoke with calmness, “She’s on assignment for the Smithsonian. I’m also affiliated with the Institute. She is overdue to check in with her director in Washington, DC, and I was called to follow up.”
“And you’re sure this is her rental?” Scott asked.
“Positive,” Tolen responded in an even voice. He looked to Curt. “Have you spoken with her this morning?”
“Maybe.” Curt couldn’t help himself. Something about the man’s demeanor, his perfectly calm persona, grated on him. He didn’t feel like cooperating.
“My apologies,” Tolen said, looking from Curt to Scott. “I didn’t get your names.”
Scott extended his hand and they shook. “I’m Scott Marks; friend of the ex-family.”
Tolen turned to Curt and proffered his hand.
“So you just happened to be in the area?” Curt asked suspiciously. He looked down at Tolen’s hand, which remained extended. Curt begrudgingly shook it. “Dr. Curt Lohan.”
“I see your ex changed her last name after the divorce. Smart girl,” Officer Canstar chimed in.
Curt returned an exaggerated smirk.
“I live at the north end of Green Cove Springs on the river. I was home on leave when I got the call,” Tolen said.
“What was Lila’s assignment?” Curt asked.
“I wasn’t given that information.”
“You don’t know why she was here? May I see your credentials?” Curt’s frustration was rising. Something about this man wasn’t right.
Tolen did not hesitate. He pulled out his identification and handed it to Curt.
“CIA? I thought you said you work with the Smithsonian Institute?”
“I do. I’m on special assignment.”
There was a heavy moment of silence between the two men.
“Look,” Canstar finally broke in, “we’ve got two missing people and a boat that looks like it’s been halfway through hell. I suggest you two focus your attention on finding them instead of arguing and get on the same page.”
“I agree,” Tolen commented.
“Get on the same page? We’re not even in the same library,” Curt mumbled.
Scott broke in, “Any chance they were picked up by another boat?”
“Possibly,” Canstar said.
“Do you have any idea what happened to her boat? Did it burn?” Curt asked.
“It appears so, although that doesn’t concern me as much as the gashes on the outer walls and near the motor.” Officer Canstar walked over to the damaged boat and pulled it closer to the side of the dock. She squatted near the back and pointed to a series of jagged two-inch holes in the sides. In all, there were fourteen on the right side of the boat near the top of the gunwale and just below the waterline. The three men knelt on either side of her to get a closer look.
“Alligator?” Scott suggested.
“Florida gators have been known to ravage boats in extreme cases,” Canstar replied.
Scott rose and walked to the back of the boat. Curt furtively watched as Scott squatted and ran his hand over similar holes along the side next to the motor housing. He jerked his hand away after making contact with something. He momentarily grimaced in pain, and bit his lip in an obvious effort to stop any outburst. Curt gave him a curious look. Canstar and Tolen were still examining the near holes and had not noticed. Scott flashed his palm to Curt. He was cut and bleed
ing.
“I’ve called the local authorities,” Canstar said. “They’ll be here in a while to pick up this boat.”
“Officer,” Curt began, standing, “we’ll be glad to stay with this boat while you load your boat on your trailer.” He wanted to know what Scott had discovered without interference from either Canstar or the CIA guy.
Canstar looked at Curt then to Scott, who was still squatting at the boat’s stern. Tolen remained quietly to the side, still examining the damage at the gunwale. “Nothing personal, gentlemen, but since I don’t know you two from Adam, let me hold your driver’s licenses, and I’ll take you up on your offer.” Scott and Curt gladly removed their licenses from their wallets and handed them to the officer. Curt noticed that Scott did so while keeping the wound on his hand concealed.
“Well, I’ve never seen either of you on the post office wall but I’ll hold these until I get the boats out of the water. Besides, I’ve got a CIA agent to watch over you.” Canstar gave Tolen a provocative smile. He seemed immune to it. “Oh, and don’t get in the boat. I don’t want any evidence contamination in case this turns out to be a case of foul play.” She made her way back toward land.
Curt turned to Tolen. “We’ve got this. You can continue your search on the water.”
Tolen acted as if he never heard Curt. He walked to the stern where Scott remained in a squat. “What did you find?”
Scott was caught off guard. He remained speechless for a few seconds before confessing. “Some sort of sharp object. It’s organic, I think.” He stood and pointed at the hole.
“Sharp enough to cut you,” Tolen added.
Curt was surprised Tolen had noticed since he had been occupied with the Fish & Wildlife Officer. “Do you have eyes in back of your head?” Curt asked. Tolen was already kneeling where Scott pointed. Curt did likewise. Tolen retrieved a pocketknife from his pants pocket and dug into one of the deep gashes in the rear wall. It took several attempts, but he was able to pry out the black inch-and-a-half curved object from the hull. He quickly placed the object into his left pocket and rose, closing the knife and returning it to his pocket.
“I’d like to examine that, if you don’t mind,” Curt said. “This may be a clue as to what happened to my ex-wife.”
“Dr. Lohan, I appreciate your situation, but I’m here in an official capacity.”
“Tolen, come clean. What was Lila doing here?”
“We’re not sure. She was working a project near Ribault Bluff earlier this morning before she pulled her boat from the water and came here. Why she re-launched this far south on the river is a mystery.”
Curt suddenly remembered what Lila had told him months ago. “She was looking for evidence of Fort Caroline.”
Tolen nodded. “That’s correct, yet that doesn’t explain why she came to the Green Cove Springs area.”
“Could she have found something that suggested the French Settlement was here?” Scott asked.
Both Curt and Tolen said “No” in unison.
Curt looked at Tolen, feigning exaggerated admiration. “You’re an archaeologist and a CIA agent?”
“No, but I do know something of the history of this area,” Tolen paused. “Obviously, you’ve spoken to Dr. Falls this morning and you fear for her safety. What did she say to you?”
Curt was silent. He didn’t trust this CIA agent for one second. Yet he knew that Lila’s safety might depend on how quickly they found her. Curt couldn’t rule out anyone’s help, especially with the resources and experience that Samuel Tolen might bring to the table with the backing of the CIA. Against his better judgment, he gave in. “Yes, I heard from her this morning. She was in distress. The phone call was brief, but it sounded like she was being chased.”
“What’s her cell phone number?”
Curt brought it up on his smartphone and showed it to Tolen. “It’s no use. I’ve called her repeatedly, and she’s not answering.”
Tolen studied the number. “Excuse me for a moment.” He turned away from Curt and Scott, placing his phone to his ear.
Curt grew frustrated. “I just told you you’re not going to reach her.”
Tolen ignored him and stepped farther out of earshot.
“Why are you so hostile toward him?” Scott asked in a low voice as his brow furrowed with concern and confusion.
Curt whispered back, “He’s a fed, and, ever since our run in with the members of the Blue Council, I don’t want anything to do with feds.”
“The Blue Council was made up of city government employees and town business leaders, not feds.”
“Same thing,” Curt remarked. “Besides, he’s too polite and has too many muscles. I don’t trust him.”
Tolen rejoined the men, tucking his phone in his pocket. “I had a colleague attempt to triangulate the location of the cell phone. Unfortunately, it’s shut off.”
“Or damaged,” Curt added.
“What exactly did Dr. Falls say when she called you?” Tolen asked Curt.
Curt weighed sharing the conversation with Tolen. He didn’t see any harm. “She was frantic. She said, ‘My assistant left me. Oh God, it’s gaining on me.’ Then there were bizarre clicks. I think Lila dropped her phone because, in a distant voice, we heard her say, ‘I’m at hey…south…springs!’ ”
“Are you positive that’s what she said?”
Curt felt his disdain return. “Yes, Secret Agent Tolen. Now, are you going to let me see what you pried out of the hull, or am I going to have to tell Officer Canstar you’re withholding evidence?”
“I think it would be prudent for me to have the analysis run on the object. I will get back to you with the results,” Tolen said, and with that, he turned and boarded his Bayliner.
“I’m not bluffing, Tolen. As soon as Canstar returns, I’m going to tell her you took potential evidence.”
“You have my word that I will share the results with you. In the meantime, I suggest we both get back on the water and keep searching for Dr. Falls.”
Tolen untied from the dock, cranked the engine to the Bayliner, and moments later was pushing through the ever-erratic waves that had kicked up.
“Sonofabitch,” Curt lamented. “He didn’t even get my cell phone number.”
“I have a feeling he’ll have no trouble finding you. Are you going to tell Canstar?” Scott asked.
Curt watched as Tolen headed downriver in the direction of Green Cove Springs. “No, as much as this pains me, my gut tells me Tolen will get results faster than an FWC officer. Then again, it’s about a 50/50 shot we’ll ever hear from him again.”
****
On the water, Tolen called Tiffany Bar.
“What’s up?” she answered. “Any luck locating the good doctor?”
“Her boat has been discovered. It’s been severely damaged, but there’s no sign of Dr. Falls,” he paused. “Tiffany, I need everything you can get me regarding Dr. Lila Falls’ ex-husband, Curt Lohan. I need his personal and professional history down to the minute details of everything he’s worked on in the last five years.”
“You think he’s responsible for Dr. Falls’ disappearance?”
“That’s what I need to find out.”
CHAPTER 11
Fawn checked into the Leisure Lodge Motel on Orange Street at the northern end of Green Cove Springs after lunch. She had debated making the 90-minute drive back to her house in Fernandina Beach, but a night or two away from home appealed to her. The truth was, since her wedding to Mike last year, things had not gone as well as she had hoped. The luster of the relationship had quickly worn off, even after going through the ordeal with the missing head of Osceola which had drawn them closer together. In their late thirties, they were now struggling to have children, something they each wanted. This had fostered an unspoken resentment from Mike even though their fertility specialist had determined
both she and Mike were capable of conceiving. Given his attitude toward her lately, she did not feel comfortable around him. No, the happily-ever-after couple appeared to be heading down a dark road, and a few days’ reprieve from the situation at home was welcomed. Maybe it would help clear her head, and give her some time to think about where she and Mike were headed.
With a numbered key in hand, Fawn walked from the front office to her car and removed her suitcase and makeup bag. The motel consisted of one long building with a brick exterior and dark-green pitched roof. Naturally, her room was farthest away from the office and where she had parked. She walked the dingy-gray, cracked parking lot past a series of black doors with hard-to-read, beige metal numbers. There were only two cars in the parking lot. When she reached her room, she struggled to turn the key in the lock to open the door. When it finally gave, she entered.
The room was about what she expected: drab, with bad artwork on the walls and a questionable smell. She had to fend off an urge to leave and drive back to Fernandina Beach. Not looking forward to the call, she sat on the bed and dialed Mike’s cell phone.
“Hey, glad you decided to finally call me,” Mike answered with an attitude. “You know it’s Saturday; one of my days off. I thought we might actually do something this evening when you get back from your little trip.”
Fawn felt her contempt toward Mike elevate, yet she was able to speak calmly. “Mike, I’m on this little trip as part of my job.” It was a lie, but she didn’t feel like trying to justify the real reason for her drive to Green Cove Springs. “I’m not always able to work 9 to 5, Monday through Friday. You knew that when we got married.”
“When are you going to be home?” he asked, as if ignoring what she had just said.
This was not going to go over well. “I’m staying a night or two in Green Cove Springs. I’ve got a lot of work to do to frame this story. It’s easier to do it here, on site.”
She could hear Mike’s audible exhale of disapproval. “Do what you want, Fawn. You always have and always will.” The line went dead.
Evil in the Beginning (The God Tools Book 2) Page 7
