Wild Ocean

by Tripp Ellis

  “Don’t worry about that.”

  “I’m worried.”

  “I’ve got enough to float you for a little while.”

  “If it stays closed for too long, people will find someplace else to go. And they won’t come back. People get in habits.”

  “I promise, I’ll figure this out soon. I’m getting close.” I wasn’t getting close at all. I had nothing.

  “I’ll call you when I get to Hannah’s,” she said. Then she added, “Be careful.”

  “You too. Tell Hannah I said hello.”

  Madison nodded. She started the engine, dropped the car into gear, and sped away. The tires spit loose gravel as she turned onto the highway. I watched the yellow Jeep disappear into the night, her blonde hair flapping in the breeze.

  The parking lot was empty now, bathed in the amber glow of a vapor light overhead. I ambled back to the marina and strolled down the dock to the Slick’n Salty. I stashed my winnings in the storage compartment under the master bed. Then I found some arnica gel and slathered it on my bruises. I don’t know if it was the placebo effect, but it had always worked wonders for sore muscles in the past.

  I climbed into bed and tried to get some sleep. My mind was still racing from the evening’s events. Too much adrenaline coursing through my veins. I lay there staring at the roof deck for what seemed like an hour, listening to the waves lap against the hull. It was sometime after 2am when I heard what I thought were footsteps in the cockpit.

  Probably just my overactive imagination?

  Then I heard the hatch to the deck house creak open. There was no mistaking it.

  I grabbed my pistol from underneath the pillow and launched out of bed. My feet quietly hit the deck, and I inched toward the hatch to the master stateroom with my weapon in the firing position, ready to blast at the intruder.

  22

  I burst through the hatch and stepped into the deckhouse. It was a good thing I didn’t pull the trigger.

  Aria tiptoed through the salon in bare feet, holding her stiletto heels. She wore a skimpy little dress that hugged her perfect form. She shrieked in terror when she saw the gun and dropped the heels. They clacked against the deck like a gunshot.

  I lowered my weapon instantly. “Sorry, I thought you were an intruder.”

  “You always pull a gun on your guests?”

  “I wasn’t expecting company. What are you doing here?”

  “I can leave if this is a bad time.”

  “No. This isn’t a bad time.” I learned a few things in life, one of them is not to turn away a beautiful woman in the middle of the night.

  She smiled. “Good.”

  I flipped on a light, and she squinted from the brightness.

  “I was out with my girlfriends, and since we are leaving in the morning, I had them drop me off here,” she said with a naughty grin. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No. Not at all.”

  There was a long pause.

  Her eyes finally focused on my bruised abdomen. “Oh, my God, what happened?”

  She moved toward me and reached out a delicate hand.

  “Nothing. Small altercation with a crowbar.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  I grabbed her hand before she touched my bruise. “A little.”

  We were inches apart. I could feel her body heat, and her warm breath on my chest. The sexual tension between us was palpable.

  “I can kiss it and make it better,” she said in an innocent voice that made the rational, logical part of my brain shut down.

  She leaned in and gently pressed her full lips against my abdomen. She traced her tongue down well past the bruise. She dropped to her knees and grabbed the waistband of my boxers.

  The girl was talented. No doubt about it. We explored every available surface of the deck house, then finally ended up in the stateroom.

  I was a wounded warrior, but believe me, I pushed through the pain of my recent injuries.

  The morning came too soon. I didn’t want the night to end. I got up, made a pot of coffee, and started scrambling eggs and frying bacon.

  There was a text from Madison saying she had reached Miami safely and was staying with Hannah. I felt relieved. She said she had called Alejandro, and he would be opening the bar and running it while she was gone. She wasn’t about to let business go down the toilet.

  I fixed a plate for Aria and brought it into the state room. I hated to wake her. She looked so perfect sleeping naked in my bed, but I knew she had to catch a flight back to New York. I set the breakfast tray down and gently nudged her. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

  She stretched and yawned and rolled over. Her gorgeous eyes peeled open, and she looked just as beautiful in the morning as she did the night before. “I made breakfast.”

  “Yay!” she said, perking up.

  She grabbed a slice of bacon and crunched it.

  “What time is your flight?”

  “What time is it now?”

  I looked at my watch—it was 9am.

  “Shit! I gotta go. Our flight leaves at 10:30.”

  She finished the slice of bacon and shoveled in a few mouthfuls of scrambled eggs, then climbed out of bed and got dressed. She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed tight enough that the bruises hurt, but I didn’t say anything. She gave me a long kiss, then said, “I hate to run out like this. I had a really good time.”

  “So did I.”

  There was a long awkward silence between us. It was a one-night stand, and we both knew it. There wasn’t any sense dressing it up as something it wasn’t. But there was no denying we had chemistry between us.

  “You should really come see me in New York sometime.”

  “I will.” I meant it when I said it. But, you know how things are. Life happens, and I would probably never see her again.

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “You’re just saying that.”

  “No. I’d really like to see you again.”

  “Me too.” She looked around the stateroom, but didn’t find what she was looking for. She shyly asked, “Do you know where my panties are?”

  “I think they’re in the salon.”

  Sure enough, they were on the deck by the lounge. She slipped them on, pulling them up her toned legs. Then she shimmied her skirt back down over her hips. She gave me a last kiss on the lips before she ran out of the deck house barefoot, clinging onto her stilettos. “I’ll let you know when I touch down in New York.”

  “Please do. Safe journey.”

  23

  I finished breakfast and crawled back into bed. I could still smell her on my pillow—the strawberry shampoo, a trace of perfume. I breathed her in. The place seemed so empty without her. It had been ages since I’d had an overnight guest. I’d almost forgotten what it was like. I couldn’t help but feel a little deflated knowing she wasn’t coming back.

  In my line of work, you get used to walking away from things. It doesn’t matter if there are close connections or not. Sometimes it’s easy to walk away, sometimes it’s not. But there comes a time in life where you realize you can’t keep walking away from things forever.

  I tried to look on the bright side. At least we had one good night. Life’s about the journey, not the destination.

  I took a deep breath and refocused my mind. I had some assholes to track down. It wasn’t just about Jeremy anymore. They were threatening me and my family.

  JD called. “Morning, sunshine. I have interesting news.”

  “I bet my news is more interesting.”

  “I don’t know about that. This is pretty juicy.”

  I told him about my encounter with Aria, and with the crowbar.

  “I want details. Leave nothing out,” JD said.

  “About Aria, or about my attacker?”

  “Both,” he said.

  “Later. Let’s hear your news first.”

  “Got the ME’s report. The murder weapon was most likely a 7 inch fillet knife.
There were multiple cut marks in the bone on the 6th, 7th, and 8th ribs, as well as the 2nd and 3rd cervical vertebrae.”

  “Great. Do you know how many filet knives there are in the area?”

  “Wait for it. Here’s the kicker. The blade had a titanium nitride coating. When the blade made contact with the bone, it left microscopic flakes of the coating. Brenda sent them to the FBI crime lab for analysis. Turns out, it’s a commercial variant, the formula is proprietary to one specific manufacturer.”

  “Now you’re talking. Which brand?”

  “Krüger-Schmidt.”

  My eyes widened. “I saw one of those recently.”

  “Should I hazard a guess where?”

  JD swung by the marina, and we headed to Pirate’s Cove. It was time to pay Dan Baker another visit. The fillet knife I had seen in his bait prep area was a Krüger-Schmidt. They were rare, expensive, and had a distinctive blue handle and black blade. There was no mistaking one.

  At the marina, we moved down the dock toward Dan’s boat, the Heartbreaker. It was sunny and warm, and the sky was crystal clear. I was surprised not to see anyone prepping the boat.

  “Dan? You in there?” JD shouted.

  There was no response.

  The hatch to the deck house was slightly ajar. We glanced around the area, looking for Dan or any of his deckhands, but the dock was empty.

  “It would be unlikely he’d leave his hatch unlocked,” JD said.

  We climbed over the transom and pushed open the hatch. What we saw in the back house was disturbing.

  Dan lay face down on the deck in a pool of blood.

  I drew my weapon out of instinct. The killer could have been close by. I started to step into the deck house, but JD put a hand on my arm. “Don’t go traipsing around. The last thing we need is Sheriff Daniels breathing down our neck.”

  He was right. I didn’t want to contaminate the area. The last thing I needed were my bloody footprints on Dan’s boat. “Looks like blunt force trauma to me.”

  The back of Dan’s hair was matted with crusted blood. He'd been struck in the back of the head with an object. Blood had trickled down his cheek and pooled around his face. There was no doubt he had a subdural hematoma from the trauma. The swelling and intracranial pressure probably caused his death.

  JD snapped a few pictures with his cell phone, then zoomed in to get a better look. We focused on the wound to the back of Dan’s scalp.

  “I don’t know about you, but that looks like it could have been caused by a crowbar,” JD said.

  I agreed.

  Jack dialed 911, and before long the marina was buzzing with investigators and local media. Yellow tape blocked off the area, and the forensics team went to work.

  Brenda Sparks gave a nervous glance to JD when he arrived. She’d lose her job if it got out she shared her report with him. He never told me what he had to do to bribe her, but I had my suspicions.

  Sheriff Daniels was not happy to see us at all. “You want to tell me what the hell you two are doing here?”

  “I needed Dan to take over a charter for me and I wanted to see if he had any space available,” Jack said.

  Brenda was in earshot and she seemed relieved by Jack’s story.

  Sheriff Daniels’s doubtful eyes glared at us. “You two have a funny way of stumbling across murder victims.”

  “Just lucky, I guess,” I said in monotone.

  “Have either of you clowns contaminated my crime scene?”

  “No, sir,” I said.

  “So you haven’t stepped aboard that boat?”

  “We were in the cockpit, and you’ll find my fingerprints on the hatch. Once we saw the body, we called you.”

  “If I find anything in that deck house that ties this crime to you, I’ll nail your ass to the wall.”

  We did our best to look innocent.

  “When did you find the body?” the sheriff asked.

  “When I called 911,” JD said. “11:30-ish? You can check the call logs to verify that.”

  “You don’t need to tell me how to do my job.” The sheriff glared at us both. He called over his shoulder to Brenda who was in the deck house examining the body. “You got a time of death yet?”

  “He’s pretty fresh. I put it about 8:30am or 9, give or take.”

  Sheriff Daniels’s suspicious eyes glanced back to me. He just wanted to arrest me for something. Anything. I could see it in his eyes. “I suppose you’ve got an alibi?”

  “I do. But you’re barking up the wrong tree. I didn’t kill Dan Baker. What possible motive would I have?”

  The sheriff shrugged. “Tell me about this alibi.”

  “Brunette, 5’5”, great…” I cupped my hands in front of my chest, “eyes.”

  “I’m going to need her information. Where is she now?”

  “On her way back to New York.”

  He sneered at me and turned his gaze to JD. “What about you?”

  “Cut the crap, Wayne. You know neither one of us had anything to do with this.”

  “Just answer the goddamn question.”

  “I was at home, cooking my daughter breakfast.”

  Sheriff Daniels wrote the information down in his little notebook.

  “You’re going to interview his deckhands, aren’t you?” I asked.

  Sheriff Daniels took a deep breath and tried not to explode. “I will interview anyone I think is relevant to this case. And yes, they are high on my list.” He paused. “All of Dan’s fishing rods are missing, and someone took a crowbar and pried out the stereo on the bridge. If you ask me, I think Dan startled a burglar, and they whacked him over the head.”

  “You don’t think this is related to Jeremy’s death?” I asked.

  The sheriff shrugged. “I don’t know yet. But I don’t think so. Two different weapons. Two different MOs. One was a mugging in a parking lot, the other was a B&E.”

  “First a deckhand is murdered, then his skipper. And you don’t think they’re connected?” I bit my tongue for a moment. “And what about the guy who attacked me with a crowbar and told me to stop snooping around?” I asked.

  “You were assaulted?” Sheriff Daniels asked, surprised.

  “I’m assuming it wasn’t you,” I said.

  His eyes narrowed at me, not amused by my comment. “Why didn’t you report it?”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t think it would do much good.”

  Wayne took it as a subtle jab at his law enforcement skills. I had intended it as such.

  “If you’ve got something to say to me, just say it,” Sheriff Daniels said.

  I shrugged again.

  His body tensed and he let out a long exhale. “I didn’t know your parents well. I moved here shortly before they disappeared. I want you to know that I did everything I could to track down your parents’ killers. And I know you think I’ve been sitting around on my ass, but there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about them. There wasn’t much to go on. Their bodies had been out to sea for weeks before they washed up on shore. By that time, there was almost no useable evidence. We recovered a couple slugs, but the FBI wasn’t able to match ballistics to anything in their database.”

  There was a long, uncomfortable moment of silence.

  “I know. I had a friend at the Bureau look into it,” I said.

  Sheriff Daniels seemed surprised I had contacts at the FBI.

  “He’s pretty well connected,” JD said. “Or at least, he used to be.”

  “I pulled your file,” Daniels said. “There’s not much in there. At least, not much I can access. Says you graduated from Vanden University as a EE major, then worked for a multinational energy corporation, DynaCorp Global LTD. Then supposedly had a job as a private energy consultant. That just doesn’t add up to me. 15 minutes after I ran your background check, I got a call from both the FBI and the CIA. You want to tell me what your story is? Cause I can’t tell if you’re a criminal, or one of the good guys?”

  24


  “He’s one of the good guys,” JD assured.

  “I couldn’t get either agency to give me any additional information,” Sheriff Daniels said. “They just wanted to know where you were, and what you were up to?”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Something tells me you’re not back in the Keys doing energy consulting,” Daniels added.

  He stared at me for a moment, then sighed, “Well, in all your snooping, have you found anything useful?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid,” I said. “The guy that assaulted me was Caucasian, 6’1”, 220 pounds.”

  “Did you get a look at his face?” the sheriff asked.

  “He wore a ski mask. Caught me off guard.”

  “So what made you two come out here and check on Dan?”

  JD and I exchanged a glance.

  “Call it a hunch,” I said.

  There was another long pause as Sheriff Daniels sized me up. “I had occasion to speak with your father a few times before he died. I like to get out and meet the community. He invited me in and offered a cup of coffee. We got to talking, and he mentioned you had done some time in the Navy. Showed me a picture. But your service record is not in your file.”

  He waited for me to say something, but I didn’t.

  “I don’t know anybody who can make their military history go away. If you had gotten a dishonorable discharge, that would stay on your permanent record.”

  “I didn’t get a dishonorable discharge, I can assure you of that.”

  “As far as I can figure, the only way your file could be altered was if it was done by the government. Now, I may not be a rocket scientist, but I’d wager you are either some kind of clandestine operative, or in the witness relocation program. Which one is it?”

  I paused for a moment. I’d always abided by the philosophy of never admit anything and deny till death. But we weren’t going to get any help from Sheriff Daniels unless he felt he could trust us. “I can tell you this… I’m not in the witness relocation program. That’s all I can say about that.”

  He thought about it for a moment. “Fair enough. Like I said, I didn’t know your father well, but he seemed like a good man. The apple can’t fall too far from the tree, I suppose.”