Fallen King: A Jesse McDermitt Novel (Caribbean Adventure Series Book 6) (19 page)

Leaving the pier, I went to the Trents’ house to see if they needed anything. Charlie said they had everything under control and we’d be having fresh catfish. When I went back out, Stockwell was sitting at the table with Charity. He appeared to be doing all the talking, as he slid what looked like a manila folder across the table. She nodded and folded it into an inside pocket of her flight vest. They stopped talking when I approached.

Travis looked up at me from the table. “When the deputy brings your daughter home, it would probably be wise for him to stay here.”

“Yeah, I was gonna suggest that,” I agreed. “I know he knows his way around the water down near the bigger islands, but it’s real easy to get lost up here in the backcountry, if you don’t know the way really well.”

“That’s what I was thinking. If he ran across a boat full of Haitians, a fast exit wouldn’t be a good idea. Do you know when they’ll be back?”

“No later than twenty-one hundred,” I replied.

After supper, I went out to the north pier with Pescador as the others settled in for the night, most opting to get some sleep while they could. Sitting at the end of the pier, I called Linda.

“I was just about to call you,” she said. “Are you and Kim sitting on the pier?”

“Me and Pescador are. Kim is out on a date.”

“A date? Good for her. Who’s the lucky guy?”

I went on to tell her about Deputy Phillips and of course I had to tell her how they came to meet, recounting the events of this morning.

“Yes, it was brought to my attention shortly after it happened. Three of my officers were with Deuce and his team about an hour ago. I’m sorry to hear about the girl. Who was she?”

“A model my client had hired. They’d apparently worked together before. They seemed pretty good in the water.”

“And the other one?”

“In the chamber at Mariner’s,” I replied. “She should be alright, though. My clients were treated at Fisherman’s and released. They went up to Mariner’s a few hours ago. Where are you right now?”

“Looking right over your head from my office.”

“You have a sunset view? The commissioner must like you. Not quite the same as being here, I bet.”

“I’ll be there before it sets a second time. Pick me up at Rusty’s?”

“You sure you want to be here for this family reunion? I have no idea how it’s gonna turn out.”

“Yes,” Linda replied. “I want to meet your grandson.”

We talked a few minutes longer as we watched the sun go down from our different vantage points. We didn’t discuss what might or might not happen tonight, though I could tell it weighed heavy on her mind as well as my own.

“I’d better get you home,” Marty said. He and Kim had just finished their giant-sized pizza at No Name Pub, but they hadn’t gone directly there. Kim had insisted they first go to Picnic Island in Newfound Harbor to watch the sunset. Being in a sheriff’s separtment patrol boat, a number of other boats quickly left the tiny island as soon as they idled up. In the middle of the harbor, it was known to be a party spot. Just a few trees and a long sandbar, it was frequented mostly by younger people.

Walking out of the restaurant, Kim pointed out the dollar she and her dad had signed and stapled to the ceiling near the door. As they walked back to Old Wooden Bridge Marina where they’d left the boat, Kim said, “Do we have to go back so early?”

“I promised your dad I’d have you home by nine. So, if I ever want to take you out again, that’s just what I’m gonna do.”

“Are you asking me out again?”

Marty looked at her in the moonlight. At seventeen she was a lot prettier than any girl he’d ever met. He’d guessed her to be older when they’d first met earlier in the day. He’d only learned her age when reviewing the witness statements after her dad and the fed dragged his prisoner off. Only two years older than her, he’d learned she’d graduated high school a year early, while they ate and talked. She also said she would be starting college in the fall, but would be around through at least the spring.

“Yeah,” Marty replied. “If you’d like to go out again, that is.”

“I would,” Kim replied as she took his arm. “But next time, can you wear, like, regular clothes?”

Marty looked down at his uniform and grinned. “It’s a deal.”

At the marina, Kim untied the lines while he started the two big outboards. Minutes later, they idled out of the marina and turned north, moving with the current under No Name Bridge. It was only eight o’clock, but he wanted to make sure he wasn’t late. Something about the way Kim’s dad carried himself told him that those rules Mister Thurman had shown him weren’t just a joke.

Clearing the bridge, Marty continued straight toward the red and green markers showing the entrance to Big Spanish Channel, east of Porpoise Key. The shorter route would be to the northwest, through the shallow cuts and sandbars between Annette and Howe Keys. During daylight, that’s the way he’d go, but the cuts aren’t marked and the last thing he wanted was to be late getting Kim home because he ran up on a sandbar.
No
, he thought,
Mister McDermitt wouldn’t accept that excuse.

Half an hour later, as Marty made the turn into Harbor Channel, he noticed a dive charter boat, illuminated by the rising full moon, running outside the Content Keys in the deeper water of the Gulf. It was running with no lights.
Probably a drug runner
, he thought. Being off duty and having Kim with him, he never even considered going after the boat.

Arriving at the dock ten minutes before nine, he expected Kim’s dad to be standing there and was glad he wasn’t. That meant the man trusted him. He’d heard of Jesse McDermitt many times. Known to be a no-nonsense man who liked his solitude, he was rumored to have ties to a government agency, which Marty now knew to be true. He certainly didn’t want to cross the man.

Marty shut off the engines and as he and Kim were tying off, he heard a splashing sound coming from the west. Stepping up to the pier, he looked out over the water and saw someone sloshing quickly through the shallow water toward the west shore, where the caretaker’s house was.

“Who’s that?” he asked Kim as they walked up the pier.

“I don’t know. I wonder why none of the lights are on.”

As they crossed the deck in near total darkness, their eyes grew accustomed to it.
Something doesn’t seem right
, Marty thought.

True, he’d only been a deputy since last year, but he’d learned quickly from his partner. There were no lights on anywhere on the island that he could see. He figured there was no electricity from the mainland, like No Name Key, but surely they must have some sort of power supply. When they reached the steps at the opposite side, he could clearly hear the pumps running on the island’s vegetable-growing system.
So, why no lights?
he wondered.

At the top of the steps leading from the deck down to ground level, he stopped, extending his left arm to block Kim from proceeding. “Something’s not right. Wait here a minute, okay?”

As Marty started down the steps, he drew his sidearm, holding it out to the side, aimed downward. Just as he reached the bottom of the steps, he saw a shadow move out of the trees on the west side, coming toward him. He dropped to one knee and aimed his Glock toward the approaching figure.

“Police!” he shouted. “Show me your hands!” The person stopped, raising his hands, and Marty saw he held a long object in his right hand.

“Easy, mate,” the man said. “I’m Agent Hinkle with DHS. Is that Deputy Phillips?”

Holstering his sidearm, Marty stood up and said, “Yeah, where is everyone?”

“What I came over here to find out, mate,” Hinkle answered as he walked over to the deputy. Marty noticed the object he was carrying was a rifle with a long scope attached. “Jesse had me on that island over yonder to watch the approaches and suddenly all the talk over our communication system just stopped and I couldn’t get anyone to answer. I heard a couple of groans, so I came right over.”

Kim suddenly screamed and both men ran up the steps in the moonlight to find Kim knelt beside her dad’s dog, who was lying on the deck to the right of the steps.

She lifted the dog’s huge head, holding the muzzle close to her face. “He’s alive,” Kim said. “And doesn’t look like he’s hurt anywhere, just knocked out. Where’s Dad?”

The deputy looked at Hinkle and noticed the night vision goggles covering his eyes as the former SEAL sniper turned and looked out over the island. “What can you see?”

“Nobody. Nothing moving,” Hinkle replied, looking around the interior of the island from the elevated deck. “Wait! Over there by the old fire pit, someone’s moving.”

Hinkle started down the steps and Marty turned to Kim. “Your dad said you were armed. Is that right?” Kim nodded. “Good. Stay up here and look after the dog. We’ll scout around and see what’s happened.”

“Pescador will be alright,” Kim said, drawing her Sig Sauer P229 from her purse. “I’m going with you. This is my home and you can’t stop me.”

Kim took off down the steps after Hinkle, Marty following close behind her. Remembering things her dad had taught her, staying low and close to the tree line, she began working her way west toward the Trents’ house. She could barely see her dad’s friend doing the same thing around the east side of the island. Halfway to the small house, Marty caught up with her as she knelt by an orange tree.

“How did you know something was wrong?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” the young deputy replied, moving ahead of her toward the house. “Stay behind me.”

When they reached the house, Kim slowly opened the door. The heavy drapes were all closed over the windows, but a single small candle in the kitchen area shone with enough light to see Carl and Charlie lying on the floor.

Kim rushed to the smaller of the two bedrooms and found the two children asleep in their beds. At least she hoped they were asleep. Crossing the room quickly, she put the back of her hand in front of Patty’s face and was relieved to feel her warm breath as she exhaled. Moving to Carl Junior’s bed, she found him to be sleeping as well.

“These two are okay,” Marty said, rising from beside Carl’s inert form as Kim came out of the bedroom. “They seem to be sleeping. Just like the dog.”

“Same with their kids,” Kim replied. “We have to find my dad. He’ll know what to do.”

Exiting the tiny structure, they followed the tree line toward the two bunkhouses and nearly tripped over someone lying on the ground in the shadows, ten feet from the first building.

Marty knelt down and examined the man, putting a hand against his throat. He was wearing the same night vision goggles Hinkle had. The man had a strong pulse, was breathing and appeared unhurt. “It’s the black man with the shaved head and missing fingers,” he whispered to Kim. “He’s wearing night vision.”

Marty gently removed the goggles from Tony’s head and put them on, adjusting them to fit his head. He looked around the clearing. The image was distorted, everything appearing in shades of gray and green. He saw Hinkle rising up from another person lying on the ground on the opposite side of the clearing. Remembering that Hinkle had said something about a communication device, he began searching Tony’s pockets for a radio. Finding nothing, he looked closer at the man’s face with the night vision.

Turning the man’s head, he saw what looked like a hearing aid on his left ear and removed it. Wiping it off, he put it in his ear. Adjusting the clip around the back of his ear, he heard nothing. “Agent Hinkle, can you hear me?”

A voice came over the tiny device in his ear, sounding like the man was standing right next to him and whispering in his ear. It was disorienting, as he could hear nothing in the other ear.

“You found Tony? Is he alright?”

“Yeah, just knocked out. Same with the caretaker and his family. I have this guy’s night vision too.”

“Good on ya, mate. Check the bunkhouse. Charity went to bed a couple hours ago and Chyrel was setting up her computers. Should be the only ones in there.”

“Roger that,” Marty replied. Turning, he said, “Stay behind me, Kim.”

They moved quickly to the bunkhouse and opened the door. Through the night vision, he could see what appeared to be an office of some kind. There were two desks, one with a computer tower beside it and the other with a laptop open on the desk next to a half-eaten meal. A woman with wavy blond hair sat slumped back in the chair in front of the keyboard.

Looking around the tiny room, he saw two sets of bunk beds, one occupied. He moved quickly to the bed, while Kim followed and went to the woman at the desk. There was just enough moonlight filtering around the cracks in the drapes for her to see.

“This is Chyrel,” Kim whispered. “Asleep like the others.”

“The woman pilot is over here in the bed,” Marty whispered back. “Same thing, sleeping.”

Over his earwig, Marty heard Hinkle say, “Art and Colonel Stockwell are out cold, too. Looks like the Colonel was sitting at the table here and fell backwards. Got a nasty gash in his head, but looks like he’s alright. There’s a thermos on the table and two mugs of coffee, both still warm. I’m going to the other bunkhouse. You check the other half of that one, but it’s probably empty.”

Kim and Marty slipped out the door and moved behind the small bunkhouse to the opposite end. Entering quickly, both of them with guns still drawn, Marty looked around and saw that it was totally empty, the beds all bare.

Back outside, they joined up with Hinkle coming out of the other bunkhouse. “Paul, Art, and Andrew, all knocked out,” Hinkle reported. “What the bloody hell is going on here?”

“Dad must be in the main house,” Kim said and began running across the clearing in the moonlight.

“Kim, wait!” Marty shouted, but she wasn’t having any of it. He ran after her and caught up to her at the bottom of the steps, grabbing her arm and stopping her. “Let me go first,” he whispered.

Moving ahead of Kim, he started up the steps. Halfway up, he heard a low rumbling sound coming from the top of the steps. Through the night vision, he saw the dog move slowly into view, its head bowed, lips pulled back in a menacing snarl and the hair all along its back standing straight up. Marty knew this wasn’t good. “How well do you know that dog?” he whispered over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off the big animal.

Kim looked up to the top of the steps and saw Pescador standing there in the moonlight, his back arched and ready to attack. She stepped around Marty and called his name. “Pescador, it’s me.”

To Marty’s relief, the dog immediately lifted his head to the sound of Kim’s voice and sat down. Kim went ahead of Marty and scratched the dog’s ear. “Pescador, this is my friend, Marty. Where’s Dad?”

She moved past him to the door of the house and opened it, disappearing inside. Marty followed, stepping quickly around the dog, who sniffed his leg as he passed.

As he went through the door after Kim, he nearly bumped into her, coming back out. “He’s not here,” she said.

Running across the deck, she leaned over the rail and shouted into the darkness, “Where’s my dad?”

“He’s not out on the pier,” Marty heard Hinkle reply over the earwig. “But I did find something. Meet me at the tables, mate.”

“Come on,” Marty said. “Agent Hinkle found something.”

As Marty and Kim rushed down the back steps, Pescador slowly followed. A light came on in the Trents’ house and Kim could hear one of the children crying.

“Go,” she said to Marty. “I’ll check on them.”

Walking through the door into the Trents’ kitchen, Kim saw Charlie coming out of the bedroom, holding the little girl, and Carl sitting at a table, holding his head.

“Are you guys alright?”

Carl looked up, his eyes bloodshot. “Yeah, what the devil happened?”

Charlie got Patty quieted and Carl Junior came into the room, rubbing his eyes. “We just finished putting the dishes away,” Charlie said. “Most everyone went to bed right after supper, but Jesse and Travis rolled up their sleeves and helped, so we got it done pretty fast. When Chyrel got here, they went out and helped her unload. I made a plate of leftovers for her and when I came back in, I just collapsed on the floor.”