The time Harmony and Tess got drunk with Crome and Blu, and Brack invited them all back to his house, was something she would never forget. Most men, if they were able to get drunk versions of Tess and Harmony corralled in their homes, would be working angles to get one or both of them into bed, but Brack invited them back to his house where he and his wife lived.
Blu was sort of an older version of Brack, except that he wasn’t. Blu wasn’t married, which was why Tess felt it was now or never.
Darcy closed her door and pressed the start button. The V-8 engine in her SUV rumbled to life. She turned the air conditioner on max and stretched out her hands to capture the blowing air.
Tess said, “How are we in trouble?”
“Word through the underworld is someone is giving Blu and Crome a hard time. They don’t know why, but they are waiting to see what happens. Some of them are even cheering it on.”
“What else did he say?”
“That this wasn’t about drugs or strippers or prostitutes or any of Blu’s current high-dollar clients. Derek’s almost positive about that. He figures he would have heard more if that were the case. So that leaves something that happened in the past of Blu Carraway Investigations, either with Crome or Blu.”
“But why Harmony?” Tess asked.
“Why Maureen?” Darcy said.
Tess didn’t understand and Darcy must have read it on her face.
“Neither woman is part of the distant past of Blu or Crome.”
“Crome and Maureen were an item a few years ago, before Crome took his three-year sabbatical.”
“I thought about that,” Darcy said. “But I think she was chosen because it would cause Crome heartache today.”
Tess nodded, understanding where Darcy was going with the thought. “The guy got cocky after he was able to take Maureen and not get caught. The next target would be us or Billie. Oh my—” She interrupted herself and dug into her purse.
Darcy said, “I’ve already called Billie and told her to be careful.”
“Good,” Tess said.
“So tell me,” Darcy said, “is that why you’re moving in on Blu?”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Friday evening
The question caught Tess off guard. It was blunt, on point, and not filtered.
“That’s really none of your business.” It came out more like a huff and Tess, already irritated, now found herself upset at how she wasn’t able to handle Darcy’s question about her intention.
“You’re right,” Darcy said. “What I’ve seen, Blu is a good man. Billie is a good woman. The fact that she hasn’t given him an answer could be a lot of things. It could be because she doesn’t want to marry him. It could be because she’s dealing with her sick mother, or it could be a side of her we haven’t seen, a cruel side. I’m not sure which and I think Blu is struggling with it as well. This abduction, as sick as it sounds, is probably a good distraction for him. Otherwise the man might be approaching a breaking point.”
“You’re trying to say I’m not helping him, is that right?” The irritation was front and center and focused on Darcy. Who did she think she was?
Why the hell hadn’t Billie called? Or, maybe the question Blu should ask himself is why he hadn’t called her lately. Was it because he was upset that she didn’t immediately say yes when he asked her to marry him? Now he was tempted to get involved with a woman twenty years younger. His daughter would have a fit. He’d lose Billie forever.
It hadn’t helped that the address he’d gone to track down was worthless. Another rabbit hole that ended up at an assisted living community where none of the residents drove. With nothing else to do, he doubled back to Patricia’s house.
In her kitchen, he felt an arm across his back and turned to find Patricia standing next to him. They stood there like that, her arm on his back.
She rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m worried about my girl.”
He felt like such a dolt.
Harmony used to work for Patricia who had a reputation of treating her employees like her kids since she didn’t have any. Harmony was like a daughter to her and she’d been taken.
He put his arm around her. “We’re going to find her.”
She raised her head and looked at him. “You promise?”
He looked into her eyes. “I promise.” And the man who had taken the women would die. Either by his hand or Crome’s. He made that promise to himself but wouldn’t say it aloud.
“And if he harmed her?”
“I’ll take him apart inch by inch.”
She returned her head to his shoulder. “I want to watch.”
The only thing that wasn’t fun about this whole situation to the man was that he couldn’t be a fly on the wall around Mick Crome and Blu Carraway. He was quite sure they were going nuts. They had a reputation of getting the job done, even the most difficult job. And it had been five days since he’d taken Maureen.
Maybe he was too good. It wasn’t even close. He could kill the women, dump them in the ocean, and go back to his normal life and no one would ever know what he had done.
But he didn’t want that. When this was over, he wanted Mick Crome and Blu Carraway to know exactly what he had done, what he had gotten away with, and why. And he wanted them to know it the very moment he shot them in their heads.
The problem, he realized, was he was losing his patience—losing his edge.
If that happened to any significant degree, he would lose the game. He did not want to lose the game. Never, never, never.
What he needed was to eliminate any paper trail linking him and her to Blu Carraway Investigations. Carraway was not computer savvy—he was old school. Old School meant paper. It meant client files.
So far Carraway and Crome hadn’t made the connection, even when the mayor washed up on the beach. While killing him was not part of the original plan, it was a bonus. That man had deserved to die, too. Truth be told, he was the cause of the whole thing and being able to get rid of him in the process was pure gold.
But now the man needed to get the files.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Saturday morning
DAY SIX
A break gave Blu time to think. He finally had to admit to himself that his nerves were shot. It took a lot of effort not to think about all the terrible things that could be happening to Maureen and Harmony. There wasn’t much left in him and he knew he was running on fumes.
Pelton had said. “Darcy’s source says there’s no way it could be from anything recent. The word is that the target is your agency.”
“But why Maureen?”
“She was the easiest and it took Crome out early.”
He was right. If it had been Billie, he would have been a basket case and Crome would have torn up the town. By taking out Crome first, it changed the dynamics of how they reacted. Blu knew he was slower and more methodical than Crome. That’s what the kidnapper wanted. He knew how they operated and knew which play to make to predict the outcome. And it worked beautifully.
This meant, again, it was either a previous client or someone they burned for a previous client. But they weren’t back to square one anymore. The answer was in the files of all the previous clients.
Saturday morning
The man parked off the road just down from the small bridge connecting Blu’s island to the mainland. Given the lack of any fencing, he wondered how the horses never ended up wandering down the road and getting hit by a car. There were other homes scattered here and there, but he supposed even if the horses did wander, there wasn’t enough traffic to pose much of a threat.
In a shoulder holster underneath a lightweight jogging jacket was a Magnum forty-four. It would take out an engine block at a hundred feet. He wanted as much firepower heading onto enemy territory as he could carry.
Having seen no one pass by in the last five minutes, the man walked up to the bridge, looked around one last time, and crossed onto the island. It was eerily silent. A mosquito tagged him in the neck. He swatted at it, but three more showed up. The bugs were terrible and he wondered how anyone could live here.
In addition to the forty-four, he also packed serious bug repellant which he reapplied. Ever since he’d been a kid, the bloodsuckers had feasted on him with an unrelenting madness. It had kept him indoors most of his life, his parents choosing to stay in the lowcountry cesspool instead of moving inland where the bugs were less a pestilence. That was another reason to dislike them.
His parents had shown him that they cared more about themselves than him. Later in his life, he’d shown them how much he appreciated their selfishness. He was proud of the fact that he would not have to care for them in their twilight years. He’d already taken care of that with a heavy dose of carbon monoxide while they slept. What he hadn’t counted on was the inheritance. Evidently Daddy had been pretty good with money. After the police ruled it an accident when their investigation turned up a leaking furnace, he’d solemnly accepted the seven-figure check minus estate taxes and semi-retired.
Hands down that was the best decision of his life. It gave him the time he needed to work on his passion and also plan revenge on his enemies, Blu Carraway and his Neanderthal partner being at the top of the list.
He thought about this as he walked, forgetting he needed to be aware of his surroundings.
His plan unraveled before his eyes as three horses stepped out from the palmetto trees in front of him at the same time a shriek from behind made him jump.
He managed to slip out the long-barreled forty-four without fumbling. The problem was that the shriek had been really loud and really close. Meaning the distance between him and the animal was just a few feet.
As he spun around to shoot, the black horse charged him. He raised the pistol in time for the horse to crash into him, knocking him over and the gun out of his hand. The man went flying one way and his gun went the other way.
He hit the ground hard. Thanks to adrenaline, he got to his feet quick and found out the horse had turned around to charge him again.
With no weapon, a wall of now five horses blocking his path to the house, and the charging black stallion, his only option was retreat, which he did, running as fast as he’d ever run in his life.
And then he felt a sharp pain in his buttocks just as his foot touched the bridge. He kept running and didn’t stop, making it all the way back to his truck without any more bites.
He got in his truck and slammed the door. The horse had not followed him that far. He massaged the area where he’d felt the pain and looked at his hand. There was no blood. The horse had nipped him through his clothes but had not broken skin. He’d have a bruise.
Somehow, Carraway’s horses had the island zeroed in to prevent any unwelcome guests. He loved most wildlife but he’d been outsmarted by a group of demon-possessed animals.
He started his SUV, put it in drive, and idled up the road. When he got to the bridge that led to Carraway’s island home, he noted the black horse standing guard as if making sure he did not return. He stepped on the gas and got out of there.
Saturday, noon
Carraway would never understand how the new but scuffed forty-four Magnum found its way onto his doorstep. He looked down at the weapon and then scanned the area. Nothing was out of place. Several horses grazed on the marsh grass. Another drank from the water trough. Dink and Doofus had stood guard, awaiting the cover charge of produce, which Blu promptly paid.
Murder had greeted him at the bridge, more like he stood as if at post. When Blu approached, the horse didn’t move right away.
Blu had leaned out his truck window, honked the horn, and said, “Come on, now.”
Murder gave him a neigh and then stepped aside to let him through.
Blu had come to an understanding with the horses. They agreed not to coat the gravel drive with manure and he agreed to always have fresh water and food reserves if the weather got too cold or too hot. It seemed to be working okay for both parties.
Without knowing where to go next, and not wanting to go to a bar or home, Crome found himself riding toward his business partner’s house. As he idled to a stop close to the front door, Dink and Doofus greeted him. They normally greeted everyone, but they had taken a liking to Crome. He always had something for them and made sure he gave them each nose rubs.
While handing out the treats, Crome felt someone looking at him and turned to find Blu sitting on the steps to his house. His hands were covered in latex gloves and held a Magnum forty-four in one of them.
“Where’d you get the cannon?” Crome asked, knowing Blu preferred nine millimeters as well.
“It was on my steps right where I’m sitting when I got home.”
“No kidding.” No one had ever dropped off any firearms at Crome’s house.
Blu held it up, angling it in his hand. “Looks brand new except for some scratches on the metal, like someone had dropped it.”
“Why the gloves?”
“Something doesn’t seem right.”
Crome walked to him and propped a foot on the step next to Blu. “You mean besides the free gun?”
“For starters,” Blu said and aimed the gun in the direction of the black horse that was grazing in the marsh grass, “Murder was standing on the island side of the bridge when I drove up. And he looked even more pissed off than usual.”
Crome stared at the horse. “You don’t say?” There had always been something about Murder that demanded respect. No one ever knew if and when the horse would snap. Maybe someone uninvited had come and pressed the right button and got a taste of how crazy that horse was.
“And,” Blu continued, “I had to honk my horn to get him to snap out of whatever zone he was in, recognize me, and reluctantly clomp out of the way. I tell you, I half expected him to charge my truck, he looked so mad.”
Crome chuckled. “You know, most horses get spooked. You got yourself a real sentry, there. And, if you don’t mind me sayin’, I think you named him appropriately.”
“That’s not the strangest part,” Blu said. “This gun is.” He raised it up again so Crome could see it. “Based on its condition, it looks like someone flung it across my gravel driveway.”
“Yes it does,” Crome had to agree.
“If that were the case, I would have found it there.”
And then it hit Crome what Blu had said. “You found it on the steps?”
“Right here.”
Crome pulled out his vape pen and took a drag. Exhaling, he said, “It’s just a hunch, but I would say that if you tested that gun for DNA, you’d find horse saliva on it.”
Blu stood. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“Okay,” Crome said, “we’ll deal with who the owner of the gun could be in a minute. First, let’s be clear on what we’re saying. We’re saying we believe your horse scared someone off your property, found the gun they dropped, put it on the step for you to find, and then stood guard until you got home. That’s what we’re saying, right?”
Blu said, “That’s what we’re saying.”
“Jesus,” Crome said.
“Now,” Blu said, putting a hand on Crome’s shoulder, “about who the owner of the gun could be.”
Crome nodded. “It’s him.”
Blu took out his phone.
Crome listened as his partner spoke with Detective Powers, rattling off the serial number, and then requesting the police examine it for any kind of evidence including DNA. While it would be interesting to find out there was actual horse saliva residue, the more important information would be any other DNA or prints, like the kidnapper’s. If they could get something to identify the kidnapper from the gun, they’d be back in the game a
nd the guy would be dead before the sun went down.
After he and Crome checked the house, clearing all the rooms and doing a thorough examination to make sure nothing had been disturbed, Blu fed the horses all the produce from his house. If his hunch was correct, they deserved the reward for protecting their home. Not only would he never accuse them of freeloading again, he would talk to a local vet about how to care for them in a way that wouldn’t spook them. It wasn’t as if the horses would let a stranger approach, and might get violent if they felt threatened. Murder had all but proven he could be vicious. What Blu was interested in was a way to check them out to determine if they needed anything to stay healthy. He had no idea, aside from giving them water and produce and hay, what to do with them. But he was now ready to call them his.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Saturday, early afternoon
In the bathroom mirror, the man had lowered his pants and underwear and found a dark bruise on his right butt cheek. He still could not believe how he’d fooled everyone—Mick Crome, Blu Carraway, Patricia Voyels, Brack Pelton, Darcy Pelton, and Tess Ray—only to be outsmarted by a horse.
One that he hoped he’d never have to see again. The animal, he was now convinced, was possessed. Not many people, much less animals, could have come up with and executed a plan like that. What kind of creatures were these?
In fact, why were they attacking him? He’d spent his life fighting for them. And this was how they repaid him?
He shuddered at the thought of what could have happened—namely that the animals could have trampled him to death—and held an ice pack to his bruise, walking around his house half naked to the kitchen.
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