A minute later, the picture must have shown up on Martinez’s screens and the phone rang with the Darth Vader ringtone Allie had downloaded for him. I answered, promising myself I was going to get a personal phone.
“Only four balls, Hunter? You guys fishing out there?”
Maybe Ray was right. “Should have half done by the end of the day. That was the schedule.” I appealed to his bureaucratic sense rather than trying to explain about decompression times. I knew he wouldn’t question Ray.
“Remember we’re going to need you to work some overtime this weekend. Keep an eye on that new reef of ours.”
It wasn’t a question. I would have to figure out how to work it in with my promise to Allie and Justine to hunt lobster. I disconnected and watched the bubbles from the two divers working below as they popped on the surface. It looked like they had separated and I wondered if Justine was checking for evidence.
The mooring balls were like bait to flies. In the twenty minutes I waited for Ray and Justine to surface, I had to chase off three boaters looking to tie off. Finally, the volume of the bubbles increased as Justine dumped air from her BC on her ascent and when her head broke the surface I reached over the transom to help her aboard. There was something in her hand—a piece of concrete—which I set in the motor well while I grabbed the tank valve to help her aboard.
She spit out her regulator. “Got something.”
20
With the chunk of concrete secure, I helped Justine aboard. She unclipped the BC and I took it and the tank from her. With the mask still around her neck she reached for the softball-sized chunk she had brought up.
“I’m taking this back with me to see if I can get anything off it,” she said.
I looked over at it and saw the blasting cap intact in the bored hole. Not sure of the significance of the find right now, I started to gear up. Ray was still in the water and his impatience was apparent when the compressor on his boat fired up. He was already drilling the next hole and needed me to bring the lines down.
Justine was still looking at the piece while I geared up. I leaned in and kissed her before rolling overboard. The lines tightened and I wondered if she was still looking at her find and not feeding the slack overboard, but they soon loosened and I dropped to the bottom. Working my way over to Ray, I clipped the loops braided into their ends to my BC and started to help him. The hole was already drilled and he was in the process of fixing the bolt when he saw me. I could tell from his look that he had expected me sooner. I shrugged and had started to help when I heard an engine rev up overhead. Justine was heading back.
We were becoming more proficient at setting the buoys and I still had almost a thousand PSI left when the eighth ball was set. I motioned to Ray that I was going to ascend and get another setup. He nodded and started drilling the next hole. At this rate, even with the surface interval he would need after this dive, we would be done by mid-afternoon—plenty of time to get back to Miami and see what Justine had found.
I added air to my BC and started the ascent. The experience was paying off and I was soon back at the boat. After grabbing another line, I dropped back in the water. Glancing at my air gauge, I saw I still had 900 psi left and felt a sense of accomplishment that I was doing better with my air. Ray was ready for the line when I reached him and after affixing it to the bolt, we both surfaced.
With only three balls remaining aboard his boat, there was enough room for both of us and we sat at the console eating lunch. Ray finished off his beer and started working with his dive watch.
“Another twenty minutes and we can finish this off,” he said.
I looked at my own watch and saw that we had only been up for forty-five minutes. The watch automatically calculated bottom times for different depths and after scrolling to sixty feet, I saw that I had fifty minutes. At the rate we were going that would be plenty of time to set three balls. Ray had been down a lot longer and I wondered how close to the edge he was cutting it, but with his experience and the Nitrox mix, I had to trust him.
A few minutes later we started to gear up; at twenty minutes, we dropped into the water. It was a little more complicated without someone on the surface managing the lines, but I had been careful to check the coils and they came cleanly into the water. We reached the bottom and started back to work, finishing the three balls in less than a half hour.
Back aboard we stowed the gear and hauled the airline and drill to the surface. Ray started the engine and I was about to head to the bow to help with the anchor when I saw him pick up his phone. He checked his messages and turned the power off.
“Might want to turn yours off, too.”
What Martinez didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and I figured that he would be confused enough with Justine taking my boat back earlier. I shut mine off as well and went forward. As Ray idled toward the anchor, I took in the slack and motioned to him when we were directly over the hook. He slowed and I started to haul on the line. Using hand signals I showed Ray which way the line was running as he drove over it. When it was perpendicular I raised my hand in a fist and he stopped. Sitting directly above it, the anchor came aboard easily. He wasted no time and as soon as I was by his side, pushed the throttle down. The propellor dug in and slowly the bow started to come down and our speed increased as we came up on plane.
I had just started to work on the puzzle pieces in my head when we arrived back at Adams Key. Becky, Jamie, and of course Zero were standing by. Zero sniffed the air but seeing no sign of Justine or Allie collapsed in a grassy area shaded by a palm tree. He hadn’t quite come to grips with Jamie and gave the toddler a wide berth.
I helped Ray unload and clean the boat while Becky took the fish to the cleaning table by the side of their house. Zero, seeing an opportunity for scraps, sauntered over to her and dropped by her feet, ignoring Jamie who had gone with her.
“You want to load up for tomorrow?” I asked.
“Nah, stuff happens around here and I’m guessing you want a ride back to headquarters.”
“Appreciate it.” Justine had taken the boat to Dodge Island, where she would get a ride or take an Uber to work. I was either going to leave it overnight and get Ray to take me over tomorrow, or see if he would give me a ride to my truck. Thinking about the piece of concrete Justine had found and what it could mean to the investigation, I was glad that he had offered.
“Becky has some shopping to do. Go on and get cleaned up. We’ll leave in thirty minutes.”
I thanked him again and went upstairs to my living quarters. A cold drink and quick shower reinvigorated me and I went back to the dock to wait. Zero was not present and I guessed not happy when Ray, Becky, and Jamie boarded the boat. I sat on the cooler in front of the console to give them more room. It was a slower ride with the family aboard and I planned my escape as the boat cut through the light chop. Avoiding Martinez had become a priority after he had pulled the plug on the case.
With my boat at Dodge Island and my phone still powered down, Martinez had no idea where I was. Now I just had to stay clear of his arsenal of security cameras and get to my truck. I figured as soon as I left headquarters he would figure it out, but evading him now would get me on the road without a confrontation.
I remained on board for a few minutes after Ray and his family left. When I saw Ray’s truck pull out of the lot, I made my move. It appeared I had gotten away cleanly and I kept my phone off until I was on the Turnpike, but when I turned it on there was a message waiting.
It was close to four. With an hour until the news broadcasts, I decided this might be a good time to call him back.
“You need to stay within the lines,” Martinez said.
I already knew what he meant. Justine taking the boat without permission had not been a good idea. “Half the buoys are set. We’ll get the rest tomorrow with no problem.”
“Of course you will. I’m assuming your girlfriend took the boat back to Dodge Island. That is against regulations.”
H
e had allowed her to run the boat before, when we’d rescued Susan McLeash and a party of kayakers she was leading. I decided to use this. “She’s run the boat before and this was official business.” I explained about her finding the concrete chunk with the blasting cap intact. “This is looking like a murder and I don’t want any bad press to come down on the park for dumping the debris so quickly.” I made my point, leaving him an out in the process.
“At least your priorities are in order.”
I breathed out. It had worked.
“Keep me posted.” He disconnected.
I figured he’d be on his way out the door to watch the news at whatever bar his golf buddies frequented. At least for now Martinez was off my plate. With the clock closing in on five p.m.—when Justine would be alone at the lab—I switched to the left lane and accelerated. Traffic was at a standstill in the southbound lanes, and though the northbound lanes were moving near the speed limit, I knew there would be a stretch after I passed 836 where I would face the same. The east–west connector split Miami in half and I was moving toward it; pretty soon I would be in the middle of the northbound exodus from downtown Miami.
As I drove, I started to wonder what having the piece of concrete with the intact blasting cap meant. At least it was admissible evidence, but I couldn’t figure out how it would help further my case. I already knew someone had timed the collapse to when Larry Shelton was below it.
There was one option where it might prove useful. Burkett was still in jail and Roslyn was sure to know it. If she was ever going to let her guard down, this might be the time. Usually investigators like to keep their evidence close so the suspects are not sure what they have and what they are guessing at. I thought trying the opposite with her might work. By revealing to her what we had found, I hoped I could elicit some kind of reaction from her.
I waited until I saw the brake lights ahead and slowed. With the wheel secured between my knees, I found her contact information and called her. I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t pick up. I had given her one of my cards, but wouldn’t have expected her to enter it into her contacts. I rarely answered random numbers either. When the voicemail greeting ended, I left her a message that we had found some evidence that I wanted her opinion on, left my number, and disconnected.
My guess was confirmed when less than a minute later my phone rang. “Thanks for returning my call.”
“No problem. You said you had some new evidence? I thought Burkett was in jail already.”
She sounded wary, but I had started the ball rolling and wanted to see where it would end up. “Same kind of thing, but I’d really like an expert opinion,” I said, hoping the flattery would get me a meeting.
“I’m near the forensics lab. Does that work for you?”
Aside from having her and Justine within striking distance of each other it was what I wanted. “Great. I’m on my way.” I disconnected. Now I had to warn Justine that she would be having company, especially if Roslyn beat me there.
“Hey,” she answered.
“Get to work on time?”
“Yup, all good. The day shift is on their way out the doors. Thought I might have a look at that concrete.”
“I’m about twenty minutes out. Okay if I come by?”
“Sure. Just text me when you get here and I’ll buzz you in.”
I drew a deep breath. “Hope you don’t mind, but I asked Roslyn to come by as well.”
The line went silent. I knew she was upset, but I needed to keep her in the dark . Roslyn was nothing if not shrewd. If this was my one chance, I had to make it work. There were only a handful of cars and I wasn’t sure what Roslyn drove. “I’m outside. Have you seen her yet?”
21
Justine was excited about her find, but I could tell she was also anxious about Roslyn. I did my best to both reinforce the importance of her being there and minimize the engineer’s impact. I had put myself in a bind. The chunk of concrete with the embedded blasting cap would not yield much in the way of physical evidence. The saltwater would have erased any fingerprints or DNA. What it did accomplish was to add to the growing theory that the bridge had been blown up intentionally. But even if it was circumstantial, it would be admissible and it was as close to a smoking gun as we had. What I was really hoping for was a reaction from Roslyn that might tell me something.
I planned to watch her carefully, knowing the stone-faced engineer would be hard to read. But with indisputable evidence that her crusade against Burkett for over-tightening the tension rods was not the cause of the failure, there would have to be some tell—either way. She would either know about it or it would be a complete surprise. The drama would be good enough to sell tickets and popcorn, if not to the public, then to slightly geeky special agents and forensic techs.
I thought about calling Grace and letting her know what I was up to, but then decided it would be better if she had deniability. Miami-Dade had an Internal Affairs department with teeth; all I had to worry about was Martinez. I was not ready to have Burkett released and he had been incarcerated on her authority. Knowledge of new evidence that might point away from him was a conflict of interest for her.
The audience would be Justine and me, and Justine had no idea what I was up to. We heard a buzz, and Justine went to the lab door. Roslyn stood there impatiently. She must have had a visitor’s pass that allowed her access to the building but not the lab.
I remained where I was, moving my body to shield the chunk of concrete from her view.
“Agent Hunter,” she said.
Justine looked annoyed and moved me out of her space. This might have gone better with the two of us if I had told her about my ploy, but Roslyn was anything but a fool. Her radar ran on high-power 24/7.
The silence dragged on for too long.
“You want to tell me why you called me over here?”
I almost pushed Justine out of the way to show Roslyn the concrete sample. Once it was in plain view, I stood by watching her. If you could call clinical interest a reaction, that’s what the look on her face was. It was as if her features were frozen.
“And how does this fit into the bridge collapse?”
I explained about finding the blasting cap in Burkett’s pocket, carefully leaving out the part that he was drunk. The guy was under heavy enough fire; he didn’t need a strafing run. Then I told her how Justine had found the chunk of concrete that was sitting on the table.
“That’s all well and good, but it still points to Burkett. Maybe I was wrong that over-tightening the bolts had caused the failure. Maybe it was still him, but he blew it up.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“You said you found the blasting cap in his pocket.”
I didn’t want to let on that I was convinced of his innocence and didn’t tell her about his visit to the barge. What I wanted from her was the smallest doubt that Burkett was at fault. “No one else could have placed it?”
“There’s people crawling all over that job: carpenters, laborers, concrete finishers, testers…” She said it as if they were monkeys.
“And what about the man that was killed?”
“That was unfortunate.”
I should have known not to expect any show of compassion from her for the dead man or his family. Plan A had failed and I found myself standing between the two women with no Plan B. Another long silence came over us.
“I can see that you’re trying to do the right thing here, Agent Hunter,” Roslyn said, putting her hand on my arm and smiling. “But if there is nothing else, I’ll be on my way.”
She left without a word to Justine, who stared after her. I could feel Justine’s eyes boring through her on the way out the door, because when Roslyn left, she turned and leveled them on me.
“And you…if you’re going to set someone up in front of me, you damned well better let me know first. You used me.”
There was no whine in her voice. It was a cold hard accusation and I knew better than to rebut it.
“I’m sorry. I was trying to see her reaction.”
“The woman’s in this up to her emerald freakin’ green eyes. Maybe if you looked past them you’d see what is really going on here.” She turned back to her table. “I have work to do.”
The dismissal hurt, but I had earned it. I knew her well enough to know that there was no going back tonight. The best outcome for me was to let her work and talk to her in the morning. I said good night to her back and left the lab. My head was down when I walked out the front door and was surprised when I heard my name.
“Agent Hunter, you look like you could use a drink.” Roslyn started after me.
I did and I didn’t. Under different circumstances, and if Justine hadn’t been less than a hundred feet away, I might have said yes. I badly wanted to get into her head. I had a moment of indecision, questioning whether my relationship with Justine was affecting my work and decided it was, but at the same time realized that she was more important to me than my job. “I’ll pass, but thank you.”
“Well, you have my number if you change your mind,” she said and turned to walk away.
Even though I knew she knew that I was watching her, it was hard not to follow the swing of her hips. Thankfully, my phone vibrated in my pocket, forcing me to look away. Glancing at the screen, I saw it was a text from Allie. Her timing was too good, and I had the feeling that both of the women in my life were teaming up against me.
Defeated, I texted Allie that I was busy and wished her good night. I didn’t want to expose her to my current state of mind. I left the crime lab, heading back to the headquarters building. Deep in thought, it was only when I was halfway to Homestead that I remembered that my boat was at Dodge Island where Justine had left it, and realized that she still had the keys. But I continued south, knowing that Mariposa had an extra set behind her desk. By morning, however, both she and Martinez would know I had taken them so I decided on the next best case—using Susan McLeash’s boat to get home. Justine needed her space and it was better than driving all night to retrieve the keys and then heading back to Miami.
Backwater Pass Page 13
