by Tripp Ellis
[Okay. I'll hook you up. 50% off. But you better tell all your little blow hoes my shit is clean. Where do you want to meet?]
[Tide Pool.]
[When?]
[No time like the present.]
[Give me half an hour.]
[I'll be waiting.]
I slipped the device into my pocket.
Vanessa's face twisted. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm hanging onto your phone in case he texts back."
"I did what you wanted me to. Can we go now?"
I shook my head. "Oh, no! You are here for the duration. Once he shows up, and we have him in custody, then you can go."
Vanessa huffed and shifted onto one hip. "This is bullshit."
I shrugged, unapologetically. "Nobody said life was fair. Why don't you girls go occupy those lounge chairs? Stay there and let Pure come to you. Act casual. Do everything you would normally do. Make the exchange. We'll handle the rest." My stern eyes blazed into hers. "Do not tip him off."
"I'm not stupid."
“What does Pure look like?”
Vanessa shrugged. "I don't know. 5'10", maybe? Skinny. Brownish-blond hair. Kind of nerdy looking." Vanessa's annoyed eyes stared at me. "Just one thing… Do I get to keep the coke?"
I let out an exasperated sigh. "No. You do not get to keep the coke."
"This is total bullshit," she muttered again. She exchanged a glance with her blonde friend. "Come on. Let's go play undercover."
The two girls spun around and sauntered toward the lounge chairs beside the pool.
JD grinned. "I love undercover work."
Two girls in skimpy bikinis passed by. The tight fabric hugged their supple curves. They bounced and jiggled in delightful ways as they sauntered poolside.
"Excuse me, ladies," JD said with a smile.
The girls looked back over their shoulders and gave him a disdainful look.
"Not a chance, fatty."
JD's face twisted. "I am not fat! There's just more of me to love." He smiled again.
The girls rolled their eyes and continued on their journey.
"That girl has lost her damn mind," JD said. "I would not characterize this as fat," he said patting his beer belly. "There's muscle underneath there. I just have a small layer of extra padding. Some girls find it attractive." He corrected himself. "Most girls find it attractive."
"I think it's attractive," a cute blonde within earshot said.
A wide smile curled on JD's lips. "See!"
"I don't like guys that are too perfect with sixpack abs." She looked at me. "No offense. I like a guy with something to hang on to, you know?"
JD smiled again and puffed up his chest.
The blonde continued. "I used to date this guy that was a bodybuilder," she said in air quotes. "Oh, my God! He spent so much time in the gym, and he was so obsessive about his diet, counting macros, avoiding carbs. It drove me crazy. He spent more time at the gym than he did with me. And then, I felt like I had to keep up. When you're dating a guy with zero body fat, it can be a little intimidating."
JD made our introduction.
"I'm Clara," she said with a bright smile. She motioned to her friend. "Maya! Get your butt over here!"
Maya was talking to some guys, but it looked like she was trying to get away. She welcomed the excuse. The sultry brunette sauntered toward us, and Clara made the introductions.
"Maya is the total opposite of me," Clara said. "She likes hard bodies."
"No lie," she said, her eyes drinking in my form.
"Maybe you girls can help us?" Jack said. "We are in the middle of a sting operation, and you girls could be our cover."
The girls looked at Jack with skeptical eyes. "Oh, really? And what do we have to do?"
"Just hang out with us and have fun. I'll buy the drinks. You girls just smile and look pretty. I think you've got that part down already."
They giggled.
"Undercover, huh?" Maya said. "Are you guys special agents, or something?" she snarked.
"Oh, we're special, all right," Jack said. "What are you girls drinking?"
"Piña coladas," Clara said with a smile.
"Another round, coming right up!" JD said.
We took a position near Vanessa and her friend, and Jack ordered another round. We looked like everybody else—drinking, laughing, and having a good time. I don't think Clara and Maya bought Jack's little story about being undercover.
My eyes kept flicking around the pool, looking for anyone who fit the description of Pure. Almost like clockwork, the nerdy guy stepped onto the patio and glanced around. I watched as his eyes connected with Vanessa's, and she waved him over.
I gave Jack a subtle nudge with my elbow. "We're on!"
27
Pure wore beige cargo shorts, a T-shirt, and sneakers. He looked like any other college kid on the island. Not some big bad drug dealer that killed people. He approached Vanessa and took a seat on the edge of the lounge chair beside her. He looked around cautiously before digging into a pocket.
In the palm of his hand was a small baggie of cocaine. He shook Vanessa's hand, and she clasped the merchandise.
She smiled, and they chatted for a minute. She casually slipped the coke into the liner of her bikini top, acting like she was adjusting the fabric. The whole thing happened without much fanfare. If you didn't know what to look for, you'd never see it.
She pulled a few crisp, clean bills from the other liner in her bikini top, then shook hands with Pure again. They smiled and chatted for a moment, then Pure stood up, slipped the money into his pocket, and walked away.
"Excuse me, ladies," JD said to Clara and Maya.
We left them behind, to their dismayed faces, and marched toward Pure as he strolled across the patio.
He fumbled with his phone, sending a text message.
Vanessa’s phone dinged in my pocket.
I cringed.
Pure happened to look back over his shoulder and catch a glimpse of us. He had obviously sent a text to Vanessa and put two and two together when it chimed. He pegged us as cops and took off running.
We gave chase.
The skinny little kid weaved through the crowd, pushing inside, racing past the indoor pool. His shoulder slammed against a girl walking in the opposite direction, spinning her around. Her fruity drink flew into the air, and red slushy liquid splattered on the ground as the glass shattered, sprinkling shards in all directions. The girl fell into the pool and took her friend with her.
Water splashed, soaking the walkway beside the pool. The girls cursed and hollered when they surfaced. "Mother fucker!"
JD and I chased after Pure, glass crunching under the soles of our shoes as we ran past the collision site. The concrete was slick around the interior pool. My feet almost slid from underneath me as I rounded the corner at the far end of the pool.
The lifeguard on duty blew her whistle, and she shouted, "No running!"
It reminded me of being a kid, poolside during the summer, getting scolded by a lifeguard or my mother.
Pure darted onto the street and took off down the sidewalk.
We spilled out of Tide Pool, chasing after him.
The little runt was fast.
He must have run track in high school or something? He weaved through pedestrians as he motored down the sidewalk, then took a left at the corner.
I had already opened a gap between myself and JD. He was struggling to keep up, and his winter coat certainly slowed him down.
I turned the corner and kept running. My quads burned as my legs drove me forward. My chest heaved for breath. My pulse pounded in my ears.
Pure glanced over his shoulder with terrified eyes.
He darted into traffic.
Horns honked and tires screeched.
Cars twisted as they skidded to avoid impact.
Pure reached the other side, then sprinted up the sidewalk, and disappeared into an alley.
I darted into the street just
as the cars began moving again. Cars lurched forward, then stopped. Horns honked, and obscenities filtered through the air from angry drivers. I weaved through the cars, hit the other sidewalk, and continued the chase. I turned into the narrow alley and kept running after Pure.
He looked back over his shoulders again with wide eyes. Pure reached the end of the alley and darted into the street.
Smack!
A car plowed into him without even hitting the brakes.
The bumper hit his legs, twisting him onto the hood with a clunk that left a massive dent. His body twisted again, slammed into the front windshield, webbing it with cracks before vaulting into the air. He twisted a few more times, flailing around, then hit the ground with a wet slap.
More tires squealed as another car barely stopped short of running over him.
It was a hideous sight. Just watching it made my bones ache.
I continued running down the alleyway and pulled my phone from my pocket. My fingers dialed 911. "I need an ambulance at the corner of Jefferson and Bayshore. Auto/pedestrian accident."
I knelt down beside Pure and tried to assess the situation. It wasn't pretty. Blood speckled the concrete. Pure's leg was fractured and was twisted at an unnatural angle. His body was covered with cuts and abrasions. His skin was black and blue, instantly bruised.
I stayed online with the 911 operator. My fingertips felt for a pulse in Pure’s neck. He was still alive and breathing, but Pure was out cold.
I wasn't sure he'd ever regain consciousness.
28
The EMTs arrived and stabilized Pure, then transported him to the emergency room.
JD and I made our way back to Tide Pool, but Vanessa and her friend were long gone. I still had her phone, and a text message buzzed through.
[Hey, this is Vanessa, I want my phone back.]
The text came from Kassidy's number.
[I'll give it back to you in exchange for the cocaine that Pure sold you.]
[That's extortion.]
[That's the way it is.]
[We are at Reefers. Bring it here.]
[No. Come to Tide Pool if you want it back.]
It took a few moments to get a reply.
[Fine.]
Ten minutes later, Vanessa and Kassidy strolled across the patio. Vanessa held her hand out, palm up, demanding her phone.
"Not until I have the merchandise," I said.
She huffed, grabbed the packet of cocaine from her bikini top, then slapped it in my palm. She snatched the phone from my grasp, spun around, and strutted away without saying a word.
"She's got such a charming personality," JD muttered.
Maya and Clara found us. They both looked annoyed.
"Why did you guys take off like that?" Clara asked.
"I told you. We were undercover," Jack said.
"You guys are really cops?"
Jack smiled and flashed his gold badge.
Clara's lip twisted in disgust. "Ugh. I hate cops! I thought you were just making that shit up."
Clara grabbed Maya's hand and pulled her away.
Maya smiled at me sheepishly and shrugged.
We left Tide Pool and dropped the cocaine at the lab for testing, then headed to the hospital.
We pushed into the ER and spoke to the receptionist. I flashed my badge and asked about Pure, describing the nature of his injuries.
"He's in emergency surgery right now."
"What's his condition?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I’m not allowed to discuss patient information."
"It's important we speak to him as soon as possible."
"That will be up to the doctors."
"Do you have an ID on the patient?" I asked.
"His driver's license says Kurt Miller."
"Where will he be taken after surgery?"
"That really depends. He suffered a head wound, and will likely be transferred to the neuro intensive care unit after recovery. I really can't say."
I thanked the receptionist and gave her my number. "Please notify me as soon a doctor is available to discuss the patient's situation."
Brooklyn Chase pushed through the double doors of the emergency room and strolled through the waiting area. She wore a white lab coat and teal scrubs. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail.
She flashed a curious look when she saw us. "What brings you gentlemen here?"
"Injured suspect," I said.
"Does it have anything to do with Skylar Van Doorn?" she asked.
"It does."
"Are you making any headway?"
I frowned. "Not really."
"I'm just finishing my shift and getting ready to head over to the pageant. This is me without makeup."
"I like you without make up," I said.
She smiled. "You're just saying that."
"It's probably the coat and scrubs, but it makes you look smart. Smart is sexy. You have a little bit of that dirty librarian thing going on."
"Do I?" she asked in a sassy tone. "Want to check out one of my books?"
“I like a good book as much as the next guy," I said.
“Play your cards right, and you might be the next guy. I’ve got a real page-turner you might like." She arched a seductive eyebrow. "Well, I better get going. I have a miraculous transformation to make, and not much time to do it."
I pulled her away from the reception desk. "What can you tell me about Kurt Miller?"
"Motor vehicle accident?"
I nodded.
"I really can't discuss patient information. But I can speak in general terms."
"Generally speaking, what do you see in these types of accidents?"
"Auto/pedestrian accidents, we see broken bones, fractured ribs, contusions, lacerations, and sometimes brain trauma. Subdural hematoma was all common. And those cases we would place an extra ventricular device to drain fluid. They would be kept under careful observation in the neuro intensive care unit after surgery."
"What is the prognosis in these types of situations?"
She shrugged. "Depends on the amount of swelling, and if there was any midline shift of the brain. If the brain herniates, it's all over."
"How often does that happen?"
"Again, depends on the severity of the swelling."
"Do you think our hypothetical patient is going to make it?"
Brooklyn flashed a grim smile. "I don't make predictions. I'm not a fortune teller."
I sighed. "Thanks."
"Gotta run. I'll catch you boys later." She dashed out of the ER and strolled across the parking lot.
“I’d like to bookmark that,” Jack said.
“I didn’t think you could read,” I teased.
JD scowled at me, playfully.
We made our way to the Porsche and left the hospital.
“We ought to be able to get a warrant to search Kurt Miller's apartment. If he did taint Skylar's drugs, maybe he still has the Vexatropanil on hand?" Jack said, shouting over the radio as the wind whipped through the cabin with the top down.
"It doesn't make sense," I said. "Why would he risk his reputation? It seemed like he had a good little business that was under the radar. If people start dying from your product, you're going to lose business fairly quickly."
"Not necessarily," Jack shouted. "When someone ODs, it usually means the product was strong. Sometimes that attracts customers."
I wasn't sold. "Pure had an upscale client base. These aren't the kind of people that like to hear about overdoses or accidental deaths. If he did lace the coke with Vexatropanil, he'd have to know it would be discovered during the autopsy."
Jack shrugged. "Maybe not. He may not have been that bright. Maybe he thought it was untraceable? I'm sure he never thought it would come back to him. Maybe somebody paid him a hell of a lot of money to do it?"
"Maybe,” I said, still skeptical.
I called Sheriff Daniels and updated him. He said he would look into getting us a warrant, and within 30 minutes,
we had one. There was no need for a tactical team. JD and I would go to Kurt's apartment and kick down the door.
The budding young entrepreneur lived in a towering high-rise that overlooked the ocean. The building was mostly home to doctors, lawyers, and other professionals, as well as wealthy retirees and trust fund babies.
A concierge greeted us as we entered the sleek lobby. We flashed our badges and displayed our warrant. The concierge called the building manager, and within a few minutes, a maintenance man arrived with a key. He led us up to the 14th floor and opened the door to Pure's apartment.
No need to kick it in.
We stepped into the foyer which opened into the living area. There was a kitchen to the left, and a bedroom on either side of the living room. Sliding glass doors opened to a small terrace. The place was decorated in a way that you would expect a 19-year-old with too much disposable income to decorate his apartment. There were leather sofas, a large flatscreen display, and a gaming console with controllers on the coffee table. There were framed pictures of bands on the walls, and there were several guitars leaning in various corners of the room. There was a massive stereo system and plenty of empty beer bottles around the apartment.
We searched the place from top to bottom and found Pure's stash of cocaine. There were several kilos wrapped up in the closet, along with dozens of pre-sorted baggies that had been weighed out to grams.
He was buying in volume and selling at the street level without cutting his product. This stuff was straight off the boat from Colombia. I'd find out later, from the lab, that it was unadulterated. It was as pure as you could get in the United States. He must have had a high-level connection to get this quality of product.
We continued searching the apartment, leaving no stone unturned. We found stacks of cash, but found no trace of Vexatropanil.
"I'm beginning to think that maybe he didn't taint Skylar's cocaine," I said.
Jack gave me a doubtful glance. "If he didn't, who did?"
29
We headed back to the marina at Diver Down, and Jack dropped me off. I needed to get changed for the big event. Miss Coconut Key would be selected tonight, and the final event began at 7:30 PM.
