The c-note seemed to provide sufficient encouragement. The driver pressed on the gas and fought his way through traffic. Cars slammed on brakes and honked horns. Cherise had only one thought on her mind.
Save Jack.
She had been too busy trying to catch up with him at the terminal to monitor her receiver. At the time, keeping him in sight seemed more important.
She asked, “Have you been monitoring him?”
“He and Amanda have been arguing,” Robert said. “She pulled a gun on him when he demanded they let him out of the car.”
“A gun?”
“A pistol of some kind.”
“And Corey?”
“Driving. And I don’t think he’s armed. The strange thing is, I got the feeling he and Amanda weren’t getting along.”
“I got the same feeling,” Lindsey said. “When he got into the SUV, I heard him tell Jack she had been cranky all morning.”
“They haven’t seen cranky.” She leaned forward and said, “Can’t this thing go any faster?”
“Take it easy, lady.” She noticed the driver’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror. But only for a second. “I’m doing the best I can.”
She leaned back and sighed.
A fucking gun.
The cabby screeched to a halt in the portico of the hotel five minutes later. The three of them exited the rear seat, and Cherise yelled, “Take care of the bags.”
“I’m on it,” Robert answered.
She raced inside the lobby to pay the parking fee for her rental, leaving Robert and Lindsey at the taxi.
They were all aware of the urgency.
She returned to the portico a few minutes later and saw a bellman loading the last bag onto a cart. Robert had his wallet in his hand.
She said, “They’re bringing the car around now.”
He removed a fifty and handed the bill to the bellman. “My name is Robert Foster. Hold our bags here at the hotel. We’ll be back for them.”
The bellman wheeled the bags away. Lindsey, who was holding Robert’s monitor, said, “GPS shows Jack traveling southbound on 95.”
Cherise asked, “Any indication where they’re headed?”
“None.”
The Charger arrived and Cherise urged the driver out with a twenty dollar bill. She slapped the Jackson into the guy’s hand and slid behind the wheel. Lindsey had already seated herself in back. Robert had one leg in on the passenger’s side hurrying to get into the car.
“Let Lindsey out,” she said. “She’s not going with us.”
Lindsey leaned forward and gripped the edge of Cherise’s seat. “What do you mean I’m not going with you?”
Cherise felt it important that her friend see the sincerity in her eyes. She pulled off her sunglasses, tucked them above the sun visor, and faced Lindsey. “You’re a dear friend. Please understand. You have to stay here. You can’t be involved in what I have in mind.”
“Robert’s going. Why can’t I?”
“I don’t have time to argue. Call the cops and tell them everything. I’ll come back for you when it’s over.”
Lindsey got out and shoved the monitor at Robert. Cherise peered at him over the passenger seat. “It’s up to you. Going or staying?”
“You kidding?” He started to slide onto the seat.
“Hold on a sec.” She hit the trunk release button. “Grab the gun case out of the back before you get in.”
Robert didn’t question her and returned with a soft-sided, black satchel. “Is this it?”
“That’s the one. Can you shoot a Glock?”
“Of course I can.” He climbed in and slammed his door.
“Good.” She mashed the gas pedal to the floor.
The tires screeched on the concrete and the Charger roared away from the portico amid a cloud of burned rubber.
“Directions?” she yelled.
“Take a right and then a left on First Street.” Robert studied the receiver in his hand. “First will take us straight to the 95. Enter on the southbound on-ramp and we should merge into traffic not too far behind them.”
She pulled off her wig and shook out her hair.
Pray to God we do.
CHAPTER 71
Jack concentrated on the road ahead. He’d gotten nowhere pushing Amanda’s buttons. But he did feel better.
Small consolation.
And he had learned two things about his captors. Amanda’s narcissistic ego far exceeded her common sense. Any contradiction to her exceedingly high opinion of herself caused an outburst of irrational behavior. And Corey, every bit as self-absorbed as his sister, apparently didn’t like her all that much. Or he had grown tired of her.
All good information.
His thoughts turned to those of his friends. What were they thinking? How much had they heard? Had they been able to hear him at all? They’d surely track his movements via GPS. Notify police. Do their best to race to wherever Amanda and Corey were taking him.
But would they arrive in time?
Would anyone?
He couldn’t count on that.
He weighed the odds of survival if he jumped clear of the Range Rover. At sixty miles per hour, slim to none. In traffic, practically zero.
And with a gun aimed at his back . . .
He had to assume Amanda knew how to shoot.
Even if by some stroke of luck he could manage to unbuckle his seatbelt, climb over the seat, and wrestle the gun away from her, he had her brother to contend with. With his height, weight, and slabs of muscle, the man appeared more than capable of inflicting great bodily injury or death.
And had.
Jack gave up on trying anything foolhardy until he had at least a chance of making a successful escape and coming out of it in one piece. That chance, he figured, would come when they got to wherever they were taking him.
Far into the Glades, he guessed.
Until then, he would play the obedient kidnap victim. He didn’t want bullets punching holes through any of his vital and irreplaceable organs.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Corey said. “Forget it.”
“What’s that?”
“Opening the door and jumping out. Try it, and I’ll snap your arm like a twig.”
Jack grinned back his concern and kept his hands in his lap. “The thought never entered my mind.”
“Don’t hand me that shit.” Corey motioned with his fingers. “Give me your phone.”
Jack held out his cell. “You must have been surprised when you didn’t find the idols in my room.”
Corey grabbed it. “You were lucky, that’s all.”
“Meaning you or Amanda would have dumped me overboard if you’d gotten your sticky fingers on them?”
Corey ran his window down and tossed the phone. “You’ve been a pain in the ass from the start. Too bad I didn’t get rid of you earlier.”
“You’re of course referring to the sinkhole.”
Corey kept his eyes on the road. “So you’ve figured it all out, huh?”
Jack laughed. “Anyone could see what you two were up to. I do have to admit, Amanda is a nice touch. Most men would have been all weak-kneed by then.”
“You weren’t?”
“I played along. She was entertaining, if nothing else.”
Amanda smacked him on the side of the head with the gun barrel. “That’s more than I can say for you.”
He rubbed his scalp and checked his fingers, surprised not to see blood. “Tell me Amanda, is that sinkhole where you disposed of the others?”
“I guess it doesn’t matter now. You’ll be dead in a few minutes. First off, you have no idea how much I wanted to laugh every time you called me Amanda. My name’s Jessica. Amanda’s my twin sister.”
“Your twin?”
“My identical twin.”
Suddenly, the truth fell into place. Jessica worked at Dream World Travel with her mother. He’d seen her that day he dropped in, not Amanda.
“Why the d
eception?”
“Amanda was the first born,” she said with a haughty tone. “And, I’m afraid, a little too virtuous for me. When we were kids in school, we had fun switching places. All those games identical twins like to play in school. One time in particular, when we were seventeen, I made a date to go water skiing with a really cute guy, forgetting I already had a date for that night. I didn’t want to miss out, so I went to the lake with him and had Amanda go out with my other date. No one ever knew. Not even Corey. Not until little Miss Goodie Two Shoes shot her mouth off to everybody. Daddy’s Little Girl, that’s what our father called her. What pet name did he have for me? None. Only for Amanda. The good twin while I was the bad seed.”
She paused. And he had a feeling she wasn’t finished. He furrowed his brow in a struggle to understand the depth of the anger that would cause her to want to set up her own twin to take a fall for murder.
After a moment, she added, “I’ll never forget the day Amanda accidentally scratched our dad’s new truck. We were ten when it happened. Corey was off with his friends. When our dad saw the damage to the paint, he turned and, without a word, slapped me right across my face. Hard. The bastard just assumed I did it. And Miss Priss stood there watching. Not a word in my defense. She told me afterward that she was too scared to say anything to him. The gutless bitch. I told her to go fuck herself. Harsh words for a ten-year-old, but our dad was a good teacher. And that wasn’t the only time the drunken asshole slapped me around for something Amanda did. I’ll never forgive him for all the times he hit me. Or my spineless sister for letting me be the scapegoat. I learned quickly, and have screwed her every chance I get. And if anything goes wrong, she’ll be the one who’s screwed, not me.”
What a cold-hearted bitch.
He cringed at what she had said. “And you’d let your sister take a murder rap for you?”
“What do you think?”
Corey laughed. “Seems fair to me.”
Jack looked at him. “Don’t you live next door to her?”
Corey shrugged, his hands gripping the wheel. “So what? Amanda likes me. And I let her take care of my condo when I’m away.”
Jessica added, “My brother and I were always in trouble. Blamed for every little thing. Never Amanda. He loves her about as much as I do.”
“Meaning as far as the two of you are concerned, Goodie Two Shoes gets what she deserves?”
“Something like that.”
Jack shook his head in disgust. “You’ve been at this a while. What about the other men you lured into your web and killed?”
“One, Corey threw overboard because the man became suspicious and threatened to notify the captain. Which we wouldn’t have had to do if my idiot brother had rented a Jeep that was worth a shit.”
“Screw you,” Corey said. “I can’t help it if the damned thing broke down. And don’t forget, I’m the one who convinced that dumpy chick in security to falsify the ship’s records to show that guy got off in Miami with everyone else.”
“Only because you screwed that fat pig when no one else would.”
“It worked, didn’t it? How about some of the men you fucked?”
“Because it was necessary. You’re forgetting, I’m the one who made our scheme work. Try to remember that.”
“Yeah, like this one?”
“We both made mistakes.” She softened her words. “But we’re making it right, aren’t we?”
“Yes, we are.” Corey went back to concentrating on his driving.
“Since you’re telling all,” Jack said, turning his head to Jessica, “and since I’m a dead man, anyway. How many men are we talking about? Or were there some women, too?”
“You don’t miss much.”
“Well . . .?”
“Over a dozen. Eighteen, actually.” She tapped the gun barrel against his sore spot. “Not counting you.”
The confession Cherise needs.
Finally.
CHAPTER 72
Cherise maneuvered the Charger onto Interstate 95 southbound. Traffic moved in an orderly fashion for a Monday, but not fast enough. “Holy shit. I can’t believe what we’re hearing.”
Keep them talking, Jack.
He was finishing what they started . . . and what she failed to get done.
“Eighteen people. Identical twins. The whole enchilada,” Robert said.
She waited for a gap between the vehicles and moved into the center lane behind a fast-moving BMW.
“You hear him okay?” she asked. “You’re recording, I hope?”
“Every word.”
She glanced at the receiver in his hand. “How are we doing?”
“They’re up ahead about a mile, approaching Highway 41.”
“Where does that lead?”
He turned the screen toward her. “The Everglades.”
“Alligators,” she said.
He nodded. “And really big snakes.”
She punched the gas and got around the Beamer. “Are we gaining on them?”
“You need to drive faster.”
She roared around another car.
“I guess I was right about her.”
“About who?”
“Amanda. The feeling I got after I met her at her condo. She’s innocent.”
“Maybe,” Robert said. “I hope Lindsey isn’t having a problem with the cops.”
“I should have thought to leave her one of our monitors.”
“Nothing we can do about that now,” he said. “Get ready to exit. They’re heading west on Highway 41.”
“Try Lindsey on her cell.”
He reached for his hip. “Dammit. My phone’s clipped to my duffle back at the hotel. Where’s yours?”
“In my purse.” She tossed it to him.
He dug out her cell. “I can’t believe this shit. Your battery’s dead. We can forget about 911, as well.”
“You’re kidding me.” She grabbed the phone from his hand, tried it, and tossed it into the tray on the center console. “We’ll just have to hope the police department does their job.”
* * *
Jack settled into his seat. All he could do at the moment was feed Cherise intel over the microphone in his watch. And hope she recorded every word.
Especially the confession.
“This road takes us into the Everglades, doesn’t it?”
Corey grinned. “Ever heard of Alligator Alley?”
“Can’t say I have,” Jack lied.
“You have now.”
“So that’s your plan? You’re going to feed me to the gators.”
“I have a friend in the glades. Billie Cypress. A full-blooded Miccosukee Indian. He has an eighteen-foot boat with a bottom flat as a pancake, and a 175 horse Mercury outboard with a short shaft able to negotiate shallow water. He lets me use it whenever I want to.”
“Without calling ahead?”
“Anytime.”
“Be a shame if the motor’s down for repairs.”
“I wouldn’t count on that if I were you.”
“You don’t mind if I do?”
“Won’t do any good, but suit yourself.”
“Tell me, Jessica. How do you feel about swimming with a bunch of gators?”
“She won’t be swimming with them,” Corey answered for her. “You will. I know a hole with two or three really big ones in it. I watched ol’ Billie throw a guy in there once. The dumb-shit owed the Indian some money and refused to pay up. Gators took him right down.”
Jack had seen sharks do the same thing.
Not pretty.
He joked, “I heard rubbing their bellies paralyzes them.”
Corey laughed. “Go ahead and try.”
CHAPTER 73
Jack could see the edge of the Everglades in the distance. A seemingly endless line of green prairie extending from north to south for as far as the eye could see.
The river of grass.
A million and a half acres of sawgrass marshes, cypress swamps, mangr
ove forests, and thousands of islands and tropical hardwood hammocks. Home to panthers, alligators, snakes, and over a million insects.
Most of which bite.
He thought about the tough scrapes he had been in and how they compared to this one. He’d always found a way out of them.
Many times with Robert’s help.
Cherise had said it. Let’s hope your luck holds a little longer.
So far, it had.
He asked, “What would it take to buy my way out of this?”
“More than you have,” Jessica said.
“Don’t be so sure.”
“Okay,” Corey said. “How does ten million sound?”
“It’ll take a couple of days, but I’ll go along with that.”
“You pompous ass.” Jessica tapped him on the side of the head with the gun barrel. “You don’t have that kind of money. And even if you do, you can’t expect us to believe you won’t run to the cops the first chance you get.”
“Did you ever stop to think the cops are probably after you right now?”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“But I am sure. I had friends with me at the terminal. They witnessed everything. By now every police officer, deputy sheriff, and game warden within a hundred miles is on the lookout for this Range Rover. Even if you kill me, how far do you think you’ll get?”
“The desperate words of a doomed man,” Corey said. “Who’s to say we didn’t just drop you off in town somewhere?”
Jack didn’t want them to know they were being recorded.
He said, “If you think you can lie your way out of a murder rap, forget it. The authorities will shove a needle in your arm and inject enough shit into you to make your blood boil. The only chance you have is to pull over and let me out.”
“Wrong,” Corey said. “Once those gators get done with you there won’t be any evidence to prove a thing against us.”
Jack stifled a nervous laugh. If they only knew.
“Don’t you watch TV?” he asked. “Ten different law enforcement agencies will crawl up your ass with a microscope and expose every dirty little secret. Jessica, they’ll start on you, first. And they’ll tell you in no uncertain terms, and in very graphic detail, how it will be for a beautiful woman like you in prison. Then they will go to work on you, pretty boy. When you go down, you’ll be some MS-13 drug lord’s queen within a week. And you’ll never shit right again. I guarantee it will come down to making a deal, and one of you will crack.”
Hostile Waters Page 24