by Tripp Ellis
A lot of people buy prepaid cellular phones, thinking they are anonymous. But then they go home and make phone calls. The GPS data is relayed to the cell tower. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together when law enforcement is monitoring a particular suspect. Wireless devices tend to connect automatically to local networks. Perps often use their prepaid cellular connected to their home wireless network, once again compromising their identity. If you want to stay truly anonymous in the digital age, you have to go to great lengths, and it's easy to slip up. All it takes is one mistake to compromise your identity.
I continued down the dock, trying to look inconspicuous. After a moment of looking out over the harbor, I turned around and headed back to the parking lot. I gave a glance around, making sure no one was paying attention, then I pulled open the door to the van and stepped back inside, still on the phone with Isabella.
"I'm not picking up any cellular devices aboard The Bandit,” she said. "If Javier’s got a burner phone, it's turned off. I’ll let you know if anything pops up,” she said before ending the call.
"We can try to hack his wireless network like we did those other thugs," Crenshaw said.
"It's worth a shot," I replied.
Crenshaw dug into his backpack and pulled out a small device that looked like a portable game.
"What's that?" JD asked.
“A wireless network sniffer. If he’s got a wireless network onboard, it will give me information about signal strength, security protocols, and vulnerabilities."
Crenshaw moved to the door and slid it open.
"What are you going to do?"
“Walk down the dock, sniff the network information, then come back."
"Don't be too obvious about it," I warned.
His face crinkled. "Relax. This isn’t my first rodeo."
He hopped out and slid the door shut behind him.
Crenshaw had come a long way from that kid who was freaked out about planting a bug in a tattoo parlor. Now he was more than eager to take an active role in our surveillance shenanigans.
JD sat behind the control terminal and adjusted the cameras on the van with a joystick. He guided the high-definition camera and long-range mic to follow Crenshaw as he walked down the dock.
Crenshaw held the device in his hand and strolled to The Bandit. He stood there a moment, looking at the device.
That's when Javier stepped out of the salon. His brow knitted together. "What the fuck are you doing?"
22
JD and I watched the monitor and cringed. A long range microphone aimed toward the dock filtered audio through the speakers.
Crenshaw maintained his cool. He spoke in a slow, lazy voice, like a stoned surfer. He squinted his eyes, playing the part. "I'm looking for my buddy’s boat, the Barnacle. This ain't it."
"No shit."
Javier was mid 20s with short dark hair and brown eyes. He was probably about 5’9” and had a medium build.
Crenshaw frowned and glanced around. "This is Sandpiper Point, right?"
"No, dipshit. This is Pirates’ Cove."
"No way!”
"Yes, way."
Crenshaw casually slipped the device into his pocket. He looked around again, then leaned in and spoke in a hushed tone. "You don’t know where I can score some weed, do you?"
Javier's face tensed with annoyance. "No, bro," he said, mocking him. "I don't know where you can score weed.”
"Right on, man. No problem."
Crenshaw spun around and walked back down the dock toward the parking lot. He pulled out his phone and pretended to call a friend. “Bro, I’m at Pirates’ Cove.” He continued to have a conversation with himself. “Fuck off, I’m not high…”
Javier watched him for a moment, then stepped back into the salon.
Crenshaw meandered around for a while, and when it was clear he wasn't being watched, he returned to the van.
"What did you find out?" I asked.
"Slow your roll," he said.
Crenshaw pulled a laptop from his backpack, flipped open the screen, and launched an app that was a favorite of hackers worldwide. Having learned Javier’s network ID with the help of the sniffer, Crenshaw was able to make additional tests to the network from his laptop. "He's using a robust security protocol with an extended passphrase. I'm not going to be able to crack that with brute force. There are no IOT devices on his network that can be easily hacked and no smart TVs."
"Looks like he’s no dummy," JD said.
"Sorry guys. You’re gonna have to do this the old-fashioned way."
JD frowned. "I'm not real keen on sitting around in this van for a few hours."
"We might not have to," I said, nodding to the video monitor.
Javier stepped from the salon, crossed the cockpit, pushed through the transom door, and hopped to the dock. He had a black duffel bag in his hand, and it looked pretty heavy.
JD fiddled with the joystick, following him along with the camera.
Javier made his way to the parking lot, threw the duffel bag into the trunk of a late-model fire-engine red Camaro, then hopped behind the wheel. He cranked up the engine, and the exhaust rumbled. He cruised out of the parking lot, and I slid behind the wheel of the van and started her up.
We followed him onto the highway and hung back a reasonable distance. Maybe we’d get lucky and he'd lead us to Eva if she was still alive.
It was a big if.
Javier drove north, heading out of town. We put a few cars between the plumbing van and his Camaro as we followed along.
Javier cruised past the Pink Pussycat, past the Seahorse Shores motel. We followed him all the way up to Pineapple Bay.
He made a few twists and turns through the city, and I worried that our plumbing van might start to look suspicious.
Javier pulled into a self-serve car wash and drove into an empty stall.
It was a long way to go for a car wash, especially when there was one just like it in Coconut Key.
He hopped out of the Camaro, put change in the machine, and started hosing down his ride.
We parked the van across the street, and JD angled the cameras toward the car wash.
"What do you think this is about?" JD asked.
I shrugged.
We’d find out soon enough.
23
A blue Honda four-door pulled into the stall next to Javier. A burly dude got out, walked around the back of his car, and made his way to Javier. He was a big guy—6’2”, 250 lbs. Bald with a bit of a belly.
"Record this," I said to JD.
He fumbled to activate the recording. Crenshaw nudged him out of the way since he was occupying the seat at the control center. Crenshaw took his place and started recording the high-def footage.
We were in a public place, and they were in plain view. We didn't need a warrant for this. Whatever we recorded would be admissible. They had no expectation of privacy in a public car wash.
Javier clicked his key fob and popped the trunk. The lid lifted by itself, and the burly dude strode to the trunk, grabbed the duffel bag, then returned to his car.
The two didn't say a word.
The burly guy threw the bag in the trunk, hopped behind the wheel, and drove away.
I made a note of the burly dude's plate and texted it to Denise at the station. [Can you tell me who owns this vehicle?]
I gave her a description of the guy and the car.
“What do you think was in the bag?” Crenshaw asked.
“Drugs, guns, or cash,” JD said.
Denise called me a moment later. "The car is registered to Edward Collins. He works for the county. He's a transportation officer at the Pineapple Bay Detention Center.”
I lifted a surprised brow. "Really?"
"What's going on?"
"I don't know for sure, but I’ve got a pretty good idea. See if you can find out the transportation schedule for Felix Ramos. Something tells me Javier Ramos just bribed Ed Collins."
Denise's fingers danced across the keyboard. A moment later, she said, "Felix is scheduled to be transferred from Pineapple Bay to the Everglades Correctional Institution.”
"When?"
"Tomorrow."
That hung there for a moment.
"Is the sheriff around? I need to talk to him right away."
"Yeah. I’ll transfer you to his desk."
The sheriff’s gruff voice filtered through the speaker, and I updated him on the situation. He grumbled under his breath. "That city is so corrupt."
We had our fair share of corruption in Coconut Key, but Pineapple Bay took things to another level. There were so many officials on the take, from judges to city councilman to officers on the street.
"I can call Captain Jefferson at the Pineapple Bay substation and notify him of the situation."
I hesitated. “At this point, how do we know he's not involved?”
"You’re going out on a limb, aren't you?"
“Javier handed a county officer a duffel bag the day before his father is scheduled to be transported. Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what's going down."
“I’m playing devil’s advocate here, but you have no idea what was in that bag."
"I don't need to know. We just need to stop this thing from happening and arrest everyone involved. It’s Pineapple Bay after all.”
Daniels grunted.
"I say we put together a tac team and wait for this to go down. There's no telling how many people are involved."
"How do you see this thing playing out?”
"Ed Collins probably will give Javier the time and route. He’s the only officer scheduled, and Felix is the only passenger. He'll just let it happen. Javier and his thugs will block off the vehicle and force the release of his father at gunpoint. Ed won't resist. When it's all over, Ed will have plausible deniability, and Felix Ramos will be a fugitive."
“And how does this tie into the Orton kidnapping?"
"Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. But right now, we’ve got a duty to stop it. Pineapple Bay is within Coconut County. It's our jurisdiction."
Daniels was silent for a moment. "Alright. Put together a tac team, and don’t screw this up.”
24
We headed back to Coconut Key, and by the time we arrived, we were all starving. We took Crenshaw for a bite to eat at Juicy Burger. We chowed on greasy cheeseburgers and fries before heading back to the station.
The office bustled with activity. Phones rang, and deputies processed perps and handled complaints. We found Denise at her desk amid the chaos.
"The transfer is happening at 10 AM tomorrow,” she said. “I notified Erickson, Faulkner, Robinson, and Mendoza. I figured you'd want them on the team."
I nodded. "Nice work."
The gorgeous redhead smiled, flashing her perfect teeth. Her emerald eyes sparkled. "What would you do without me?"
“My world would end," I said, not lying.
“I’ve notified the helicopter unit. Tango One will provide air support.”
"I want to go," Crenshaw added.
"You are not a field officer. You're not even a deputy."
"That’s what you said last time."
"We got shot at last time."
"I just want to ride along and observe. You need technical support on this."
I gave him a doubtful glance.
"Come on, do me a solid."
"Ask the sheriff."
Crenshaw's face crinkled. "He's gonna say ‘No’."
Crenshaw looked across the busy room to the sheriff's office. Daniels was on the phone.
“Go ahead,” I taunted. “Just walk right in there and demand that you be included on this.”
Crenshaw shrank, and he squeaked, “He doesn't look too receptive at the moment.”
"He never looks receptive."
"Any word on Eva Orton?" Denise asked.
I shook my head.
JD made a grim face.
Denise cringed. "That's not good, is it?"
“No, it’s not.”
I called Nolan to touch base, and he still hadn't heard anything from the kidnappers. "How long should I give it before I assume the worst? I mean, I'm already assuming the worst, but… I guess what I'm asking is, when does this turn from a kidnapping into a homicide investigation in your eyes?"
Nolan's voice sounded thin and scratchy. The voice of a man pushed to the edge, terrified and exhausted. I figured he hadn't slept much in the last few days. I know I wouldn’t be able to close my eyes if I were in his shoes.
"Right now, we are still investigating this case as a kidnapping until we have reason to believe otherwise."
"I've got tech people trying to track down that crypto wallet and see if they can connect it to an individual."
"My people are working on that as well,” I said.
"If you learn anything, let me know."
"You’ll be my first call," I assured.
I ended the call and slipped the phone into my pocket.
Denise frowned. "I feel so bad for that man."
We all did.
I said goodbye to Denise and left the station with JD. I hopped on my bike, and he followed me back to the marina at Diver Down. We stopped at the bar and took a seat at the counter.
"Two whiskeys?" Teagan asked.
"You read my mind," JD said
Teagan smiled. "I'm good like that."
Paris Delaney was on the flatscreen behind the bar. She, and a gaggle of other vultures, were huddled outside Nolan Orton’s home, hoping to catch a glimpse of the beleaguered billionaire. They were all speculating on the fate of Eva Orton. It was a ratings boon, and there was almost constant coverage on every news channel.
Isabella called. "Well, your girlfriend isn't entirely wrong. But she's not entirely right."
“Fink is gone?"
“My sources tell me he was there, but he’s not now."
"Those photos were recent," I said.
"Not recent enough. Something could have spooked him. He left within the last day or so. Do you know where she’s getting her intel?"
"I don’t. Do you think he’s still in Venezuela?"
“That's what I'm trying to figure out. The guy is good. He's managed to elude captivity for the last decade. We’ve gotten close a number of times before, but he always manages to slip away."
"Keep on it."
"You know that I will. And be careful. I don’t have to tell you that, but I feel compelled to."
"It's nice that you care," I snarked.
"I do care. I don't want to see one of my best operatives harmed,” Isabella said. "And Sophia’s already taken out a few."
"She actually denies responsibility for that."
"Of course she does. Would you expect anything less from her? She is a snake."
"I take everything she says with a grain of salt."
"Good. Don't let her bamboozle you. She is, and always will be, a killer."
I ended the call and told JD that Elias Fink had moved on.
"You need to quit associating with that crazy-ass."
“I’m not associating with her. I'm using her for intel."
"Stale intel that is of no tactical value."
Just at that moment, a call from Sophia Breslin buzzed through on an encrypted messaging app. I showed the screen to JD. "Speak of the devil.”
He frowned and shook his head as I swiped the screen.
“Miss me?”
"Your intel was wrong," I said.
"I know, I just found out. That's why I'm calling you and giving you a heads up so you don't think I'm full of shit.”
"I already think you're full of shit.”
"I'm sorry you feel that way."
"Call it self-preservation."
“You’ve built up too many walls, Tyson."
I chuckled. "You are the last person I need to lower the shields for."
“I’m telling you, we’re on the same team now. What do I have to do to convince
you?”
“I’m not sure that you can.”
“Holden Cauley.”
“Who?”
“The hitman that killed Quinn. His name is… was… Holden Cauley. Look him up.”
“I will.”
25
I texted Isabella the hitman’s name and asked her to see what she could find out.
The next morning I suited up in tactical gear with a bulletproof vest and extra magazines. JD swung by the marina in the Porsche, and we cruised up to the station to meet with the rest of the team. We had a tactical briefing in the conference room before heading up to Pineapple Bay.
The guys from the helicopter unit were in attendance, along with Crenshaw. He had a wide smile on his face and eager eyes. I wondered what the hell he was doing there. Daniels didn't seem to mind his presence, so I figured he'd gotten the A-OK. It was unusual for Daniels to make any kind of concessions.
I went over the plan with the team. We’d stake out the detention center and follow the transport when it left. Tango One would be in the air, giving us constant updates about our surroundings and incoming threats. We’d follow along in the Porsche, and the other deputies would be in unmarked vehicles. If something went down, we’d thwart their efforts.
It all sounded good in theory. But no plan ever survives the battlefield.
I used a projector to display images of Ed Collins, Javier Ramos, and maps of predicted routes. I discussed possible methods of attack the thugs might use.
“Does anybody have any questions?" I asked after my briefing.
"Yeah," Faulkner said. "Who's buying the beer afterward?"
Everybody chuckled.
I pointed to JD.
"If this goes down clean and without a hitch, I'm buying,” Sheriff Daniels said.
We all gave him a surprised glance.
"Let's get it done quickly and without incident. I don't want this turning into a debacle out on the streets. If it goes south, somebody will catch it on a cell phone, and it will be all over the internet by noon.”
We filed out of the conference room, and I asked Crenshaw, “Did Daniels approve this?"