by Matt Lincoln
Holm chuckled as he took his first sip. “Mm!” he moaned, whipping his head sharply in Debra’s direction. “No wonder your team is always so alert. This is jet fuel!”
Debra let out a hearty laugh that was shared by the Captain and her Chief. After a few more sips, I had forgotten all about my painfully long night at the hospital, and I was ready to tackle the rest of the day.
“I know you two need to get going,” Linda said after a while of thoughtfully chewing on her donut. “I’m glad we got to see you one last time before you head back over to the west side, though.”
“I agree,” I mused, propping myself up on a nearby ledge. “It’s been great being able to put a face to the name I’ve heard so much about.”
She giggled to herself lightly. “Remind me to tell Jake to stop talking about me.”
“Nope,” Holm insisted. “Header’s always a bad-ass, except when he talks about you.”
“Yeah, it reminds us that he’s still human,” I chuckled. “Otherwise, I’d still be questioning it.”
“It’s wild hearing you talk about him that way,” Linda replied, sitting back and looking between the two of us. “I don’t see him that way at all.”
“See? There’s a human in there somewhere.” Holm emptied his mug and grinned widely at me. I rolled my eyes as I finished my own coffee.
“Ready, brother?” I announced, swiping the samples up from where Holm had sat them down earlier.
“Yeah, let’s do this,” he cheered. Debra took both of our mugs and waved us off.
“Enjoy your interrogation!” she cheered. “Seriously, though, I hope you guys can get the answers you need before this all gets even bloodier.”
“Yeah, we’re hoping the same,” Holm muttered. “Tell Jones we said thank you for the donuts?”
“Of course,” she assured us. “Drive safe!”
Holm and I worked our way down the ladderwell and off the cutter, out from under the shadow of the ship and back beneath the warm sun.
“So far, this has been a productive morning,” Holm pointed out cheerfully as we approached Header’s oversized truck.
“It’s still early to make that declaration,” I teased. I headed around to the passenger side and gingerly hoisted myself up, wishing Holm had doubled back east with the Mustang instead. It would have been a hell of a lot easier to get in and out of that one, although Bonnie had probably had a death grip on those keys. I wondered if I’d get another chance to drive it or if Bonnie would lay claim to the keys for the rest of the trip.
“You alright over there?” Holm’s hand hovered over the ignition, but his eyes darted in my direction.
“Yeah, I’m alright,” I groaned. “This truck could be a bit lower.”
Holm shrugged me off and started up the engine. “Yeah, but then it would be that much less cool.”
“Fair enough.” I looked out the window as he navigated the uneven streets of San Juan, heading toward the police station.
With the cruise ships in, the crowds were thick as we maneuvered the truck through the city, but the police station had its own parking garage nearby, which allowed us to get clear of the hustle and bustle before going inside. With a last check to ensure our samples were safely tucked away, I grabbed onto the doorframe and eased myself down onto the concrete slab floor of the garage. We headed through to the double doors that led to the police station, our footfalls echoing through the open space, the only sound breaking the silence.
When we stepped through the doors, however, the change was immediate. The white tile walls and harsh overhead lighting illuminated every scuff on the well-worn floor, and behind the long front desk, the boisterous conversations and phone calls filled the space with an abundance of noise. Uniformed officers clad head-to-toe in navy blue strode back and forth through the partitioned offices while others sat at their desks, busying themselves with paperwork and phone calls. The young officer at the front desk looked fresh out of the academy, his hair tidy and his eyes wide.
“¡Bon día!” he sang with too much enthusiasm for my liking.
“Good morning,” Holm replied automatically. “We’re from MBLIS.” We flashed our badges almost simultaneously, and the young officer nodded seriously.
“I’ll let them know you’re here,” he assured us before scrambling out of his seat and blending in with the sea of navy blue in search of someone to help.
After a few minutes of waiting, our officer came back through with an older gentleman. He was balding and perspiring along his temples, but his eyes were sharp and his uniform exceptionally neat.
“Special Agents?” the man called out as he approached. His voice was gravelly and accented, though by now, I was getting accustomed to the accents.
“Yes, sir. Ethan Marston,” I nodded as I extended my hand. He shook it across the top of the desk before turning to my partner. “This is Special Agent Holm.” They shook hands briefly.
“I’m Hector Rivera. You’re here to interview our suspect?” he asked, although it sounded more like a statement than a question.
“Yes, we are,” Holm replied quickly.
“Okay.” Rivera walked over to one end of the desk and swung a section of it open by a set of hinges that I hadn’t noticed before. “Follow me. I will get you both set up, and then I will bring the suspect in.”
We stepped over the threshold and followed him through the precinct, heading down a narrow hallway and into a small room to the right. Inside the room, one wall was fitted with a pane of glass that showed a bare room next door, empty except for the metal table in the center. The walls were all tile, devoid of any warmth or personality.
“You two stay here, we will bring the suspect in,” Rivera spoke softly, but his voice had a hard edge to it that I was willing to bet he used most of the time. He closed the door behind him and left us on our own.
It wasn’t long before they walked the suspect in. His dark eyes reflected the dark shadows beneath them, and I was glad to see that he’d had a much worse night than I’d had. Rivera sat him down, facing the doorway, and the man sat back with a lazy smirk on his face as if daring someone to question him. I was ready to take that dare.
The door creaked open beside us. “Alright, gentlemen, he’s all yours.”
“Thank you,” Holm replied cheerfully, clapping me on the shoulder as he stepped forward. “Let’s do this.”
I appreciated Holm’s enthusiasm and followed suit. We walked over to the other door, and I shifted gears as I crossed the threshold. Before us, the lazy smirk was still scrawled across the man’s face, and he propped one ankle on top of his other knee as he sat back and eyed us curiously.
“Hey, bud,” I sang as I stepped up to the table pointedly. “Remember me? The man you didn’t kill?”
His facial expression did not falter, and he did not respond.
I pressed on. “You’re right. It was a stupid question. Of course, you remember me. You’ll also remember my partner here. You know, the one who snuck up behind you?”
His steady gaze still showed no change. He was going to be a tough nut to crack, but I had Debra’s coffee flooding my veins and a gorgeous woman waiting at Header’s that I needed to get answers for. This thug was not going to win this game.
“Okay, that’s fine,” I shrugged, resting my palms on the edge of the table and looking down at him. “I can understand the memory loss. It’s probably been a long night for you. Here’s the thing, though. We already know a few things.”
I pushed myself off the table and began pacing back and forth, mostly for effect. I caught Holm in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting patiently for me to complete my line of questioning.
“What do you think, you know?” the man replied mockingly.
“Well,” I began, “I know we were your specific targets. This wasn’t random or a coincidence. You wanted to stop us. Now…” I held up a finger and pointed it at Holm. “Neither of us have any previous affiliation with anything or anyone on
this island. There is only one reason you would want to stop us. So, I know you are affiliated with all of this in some way.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he quipped.
“Well, that is the most unoriginal response you could come up with,” I muttered, “but the good news is, I wasn’t done. Here’s something else I know. You are not a killer.”
The man cackled, and for the first time, I saw a crack in his demeanor. He was not as confident as he was letting on.
“What do you mean, I’m not a killer?” he snapped. “I seem to remember making you bleed.”
“Well, that’d be a better argument if I weren’t alive right now,” I pointed out. “You also didn’t hit anyone else. You’re an excellent shot. Of course, you also had a hell of a gun to assist you with it all. Still, though, not one casualty? Not one civilian injury? I have to hand it to you, that’s impressive. It also shows that you weren’t firing indiscriminately. You didn’t want to hurt innocent people.” I pulled out the chair on my side of the table and took a seat. “I dare say you’re in the wrong line of work.”
The smile had faded from the man’s lips by now, and he regarded me carefully. “Okay, you got me,” he admitted. “I don’t like my job. Not many people do.”
“I beg to differ,” Holm announced from the back corner. “I love my job!”
“As do I,” I agreed. “I thoroughly enjoy stopping bad guys and saving lives. So tell me, will you help me save some lives? Or do you consider it not your problem if it’s not you that’s the one pulling the trigger?”
He regarded me thoughtfully but didn’t say a word.
“We can start with an easy one,” I said softly, leaning forward in my chair and propping my elbows onto my knees. “Who do you work for?”
The man’s skin paled a bit, and his lips remained pressed together.
“Okay.” I sat back again and eyed him carefully. “Where is Miguel García?”
His eyes flared, and this time he spoke. “I do not know.”
“Ahh,” I replied smugly, “but you know he is missing.”
He didn’t move, but his eyes spoke volumes. This time, I waited, opting to stare him down until he spoke.
“They don’t tell me these things,” he sputtered. “I don’t know the details.”
“Who is ‘they’?” Holm asked, stepping forward from the corner. I didn’t mind the interjection. As a matter of fact, this was the perfect time to bring a new face in, especially if it was the intimidating one from the corner of the room.
“I- I can’t tell you,” he stuttered. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Dangerous, how?” I pressed. “What’s going on?”
“They have eyes and ears everywhere,” he whispered as if that would change things. “It’s bad enough that I’m in here. They will suspect that I ratted.”
“Well, if they’ll suspect it anyway, you may as well tell us,” Holm pointed out.
“No way, no way!” His voice was trembling now, the complete opposite of his persona when we had first walked into the room. “They’ll know.”
I slammed my hands down on the metal table, sending the vibration up my arms and the man’s eyebrows up into his hairline. “Lives are at stake!” I bellowed angrily. “You’re going to finish shooting up a bar and then come back here and deny us the helpful information that we need to save lives because you’re too busy protecting your own? You should have thought about that before picking up your rifle last night.”
He looked down at his hands in his lap and remained silent for a moment. Holm stood over my right shoulder, with his arms crossed over his chest, every inch the bad cop in this situation. The two of us remained silent as we not-so-patiently awaited his response.
“Follow the cocaine,” he muttered without so much as glancing up at us. “Follow the cocaine, and you will find your answers.”
“Are you…?” Holm stood idly by, his hands still crossed over his chest. “Are you… giving us a riddle? Sending us on a quest? What does ‘follow the cocaine’ mean? Could you be a bit less cryptic?”
Although Holm had a point, I was already thinking about everything that had been cocaine-related in our case thus far. The cocaine on Mona Island could be a very important aspect of his entire case, and now we had the samples from the latest Coast Guard drug bust that we could use to attempt to tie it all together. What could that all mean, though? I was still struggling to see the connection between the cocaine and the kidnapping.
“I’m not saying anything more,” the man replied softly. His shoulders slumped, and he looked defeated. “I have a family to protect. I need to put them first.”
“We can help you with that,” I offered, although I wasn’t particularly inclined to help someone who’d pointed a rifle at my face.
He barked out a laugh. “No, you can’t,” he argued, his voice level and confident. “No one can.”
“You seem to have made up your mind,” Holm acknowledged, uncrossing his arms. “It’s a shame. We can help you and your family. You can help us stop this. We can work together and save lives.”
The man’s face was resolute. We stared at each other for a solid minute, each waiting for the other to break their resolve.
“This deal is on the table for twenty-four hours,” I finally muttered. It was clear we weren’t getting any more information out of him. At least, there was nothing more we could pull from him today. “After that, we can’t help you.”
I stood up slowly and purposefully. The man looked sad but determined. I was confident that he’d make his own bed before reaching back out to us. Without another word, Holm and I walked out. I headed back into the adjacent room to watch him, and Rivera was already in there with his arms crossed and a pensive expression on his face.
“What do you make of this?” he asked as we closed the door behind us.
“He’s not caving,” I admitted regretfully. “As much as I hate to admit it, he’s dead-set against talking to us.”
“He’s afraid,” Holm added. “His fear is keeping him locked up. I don’t think twenty-four hours is going to change anything.”
“No,” I conceded, “I don’t think so either. I had to give him something, though.”
“No, I get it,” Holm muttered glumly. “The cocaine better turn something up.”
Rivera looked back and forth at the two of us.
“Well, we’re done with him.” I looked over at Holm, who nodded in agreement. I looked back at Rivera. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
“It is not a problem,” he assured us. “I will let you know if anything changes, but we can take it from here.”
Holm and I said our goodbyes and headed back out to the garage to make our way back to Header’s. As frustrating as it was to not be able to return to our team with more solid answers, I was glad that at least we had a way to go. It might have been vague and cryptic, but it was something, and we were going to pursue it with all we had.
Chapter 20: Ethan
Walking into Header’s house was surreal. In the midst of an extremely time-sensitive case, I felt as if we had walked into a full-on party. The music was blaring from hidden speakers, and it could be heard over the engine of the pickup before we’d even driven through the front gate.
When we walked in through the front door, an array of fruits and cheeses were sprawled out across the expansive kitchen island, and a small collection of high-end liquor bottles were lined up behind a bar mat beside the sink. Across the living room, the wide glass double doors were propped open, and the warm sunlight and slight breeze filled the room. The living room itself was cluttered with a combination of Bonnie’s scattered lab equipment and a random assortment of high-tech electronics that I didn’t recognize.
Bonnie and Clyde were huddled up on the floor in the center with Xavier, intensely focused on a project. The music was so loud that it had drowned out any noise we had made by entering the house, so they hadn’t even noticed we had arrived. By the pool,
I saw Doc and Header sitting shirtless on a couple of lawn chairs with drinks in their hands, while Rosa and Alejandra were laid out on bright-colored pool floats soaking in the sun. I forced myself to try to focus on something other than Alejandra’s skimpy bathing suit as I turned my attention back into the living room.
“Honey, we’re home!” Holm bellowed cheerfully, his arms spread wide. His voice carried over the music, causing all seven heads to whip around to face us. The music lowered inexplicably, but I was sure Header had the remote near him.
“You’re back!” Bonnie cheered, hopping up from the floor. Clyde followed right behind her. “Did you get the samples?”
“Sure did,” I assured her, handing them over. She took them from me and handed them over to Clyde, who walked them back to Doc.
“We’ve been looking into the note, and we’ve also got evidence lifted from what was left behind at the scene. We found a partial fingerprint on the note, but it’s making it difficult to match. Since our database is limited to… official means, Xavier is helping us to… navigate the more unofficial stuff.” Bonnie broke eye contact at the end of her sentence, and I knew I didn’t want to ask any further questions.
“Is it helping?” Holm asked. That seemed like a safe enough question.
“Yes,” Bonnie boasted. “We started with any fingerprints we lifted from the scene. We didn’t find much that didn’t already belong to one of the campers, but we found a couple that didn’t belong. It wasn’t much to go on, but we traced them back to a couple of individuals. These two guys don’t seem to have much of a history on record. A couple of petty thefts as teenagers, and that’s about it. Xavier is trying to dig deeper into it to try to find out where they are now and what they’ve gotten themselves into. The note, since it’s only a partial print, is taking a bit, but we’re hoping to have information on that today.”
“How’s Alejandra doing?” I asked, sneaking a glance back out toward the pool.
“I just gave you a major update, and that’s your first question?” Bonnie asked disdainfully.
