Wild Venom: A Coastal Caribbean Adventure (Tyson Wild Thriller Book 31)

by Tripp Ellis

  Year after year, the island drew treasure hunters with dollar signs in their eyes. As technology advanced, it was only a matter of time before every sunken ship was discovered.

  JD muttered in my ear, “We need to get back to work on Operation Salvage. I'm thinking we need to do that sooner rather than later."

  It didn't take too long to reach the divers. They were in a 35-foot sport-yacht with navy blue trim. We pulled alongside their boat and spoke briefly.

  "We left her down there," Chuck, one of the divers, said. "We didn't want to disturb anything or contaminate evidence."

  By this point in time, there wouldn’t be much usable evidence. There was no telling how long Eva had been buried underwater in the trunk.

  Chuck and his buddy, Mark, gave us a full statement. They had boated down from Fort Lauderdale and were planning on spending a week in the Keys, diving reefs and shipwrecks and looking for treasure.

  JD had inquired about the type of sonar drone they were using. I knew him well—he was assessing their threat level. After interrogating them, he muttered to me, “The drone they are using is junk. They’re never going to find anything."

  "Looks like they found something," I said dryly.

  After talking to Mark and Chuck, it was clear they had nothing to do with Eva’s disappearance and had only gotten into town yesterday. I made a few phone calls, and their wives verified their stories.

  The county dive team plunged into the water. It didn’t take them long to recover Eva’s remains. Bubbles roiled the surface, and the divers brought up her pale corpse. The remains were transferred to the patrol boat.

  Eva’s body lay on the deck, her milky eyes staring at the sky, her blonde hair twisted and ratted. Her skin was ghostly, and her lips almost blue. She looked like a vampire, minus the fangs.

  I studied the body carefully. It was Eva Orton alright. There was no doubt about it.

  "How long has she been down there?" Daniels asked.

  "Hard to say," Brenda replied, hovering over the remains, wearing pink nitrile gloves. "A few days at least. I'll know more when I get her back to the lab."

  "So, she could have been killed the day of her abduction," I said.

  Brenda nodded.

  "That would explain why the kidnappers didn't give proof of life," JD said.

  "Maybe she became unruly and put up a struggle," I suggested.

  "Somebody kidnaps me, I'm certainly going to become unruly,” JD said.

  "You already are unruly," Daniels muttered.

  "Nolan's not gonna like this," I said.

  34

  Bubbles from the divers surfaced, and their blurry shapes squiggled under the water as they ascended. They broke through the water an instant later, four of them clinging onto a large brown steamer trunk, finished with fine leather. It had latches, straps, and brass rivets. Handles on either side of the trunk allowed better grip.

  This was no cheap item. I'd seen some of these vintage trunks go for up to $15,000.

  The divers had turned it upside down and used the regulators to fill it with air, allowing it to float to the surface more easily.

  We hoisted the heavy thing onto the boat and examined it. The inside of the trunk was empty. The leather lining had slight bloodstains that had mostly been washed away by the saltwater. It was my guess that Eva sat in the trunk for a while before being submerged.

  The blood indicated trauma and coincided with Brenda's finding of a gash on the back of her scalp—an indication of blunt force trauma. She had a cracked skull.

  "The killer stuffed her into a steamer trunk and dumped her in the ocean," JD said.

  "It would appear that way," Daniels said.

  "That's a pretty pricey trunk to toss in the water," JD added.

  "Maybe that's all they had," I said.

  "I don’t know about you, but I'd have found a cheap trunk. Just saying."

  Jack had a point.

  We cut Chuck and Mark loose and headed back toward Coconut Key. I called Nolan along the way and informed him of the bad news. It didn't come as a shock, and he handled it better than I anticipated. I kept the details limited for the time being. “Your wife didn't happen to own a steamer trunk did she?"

  "No. I don't believe so. Why do you ask?"

  "This is unpleasant, but we found the remains crammed into the trunk at the bottom of the ocean."

  "Good God. That's barbaric."

  “I’ll send you a picture of the trunk. Tell me if you recognize it."

  I snapped a photo and texted it to him. A moment later, Nolan said. "No. I've never seen that before."

  "You're sure?"

  “Eva had a healthy spending habit. She could have purchased that without my knowledge, but I don't recall seeing it around the house."

  "We need you to come down to the morgue to make a positive ID."

  "When do you need me to do that?"

  "I'll have the medical examiner's office call you."

  He was silent for a long moment. "Thank you for pursuing this case to a conclusion."

  “Again, I’m sorry for your loss. It's not the outcome I had hoped for."

  "Any luck tracking down the kidnappers’ crypto wallet?"

  "No," I said.

  "So, I paid $100 million for nothing? And the scumbags are going to get away with it."

  "I wish I could say that what comes around goes around, but in my experience, sometimes bad people get away with bad things. But I assure you, we’re not giving up on this case. The investigation is only beginning."

  35

  Paris Delaney and her news crew waited for us on the dock at the station. They filmed as we transferred Eva’s remains onto a gurney. She was wheeled down the dock to the medical examiner's van, and the body bag was loaded inside.

  We unloaded the trunk and set it on the dock, dripping wet. The news crew continued to film as we let it drip dry.

  As usual, Paris approached and asked a barrage of questions, the camera lens zooming in on me. "Can you identify the victim?"

  “We discovered the remains of Eva Orton between here and Barracuda Key. If anyone has information or has seen anything suspicious, please contact the Sheriff's Department immediately."

  "So this will be proceeding as a homicide investigation?"

  "Yes, it will."

  "What can you tell us about the steamer trunk?"

  "It was used to dispose of the remains. Again, if anyone has seen this trunk or can identify any suspects, please contact the department."

  I answered a few more questions. I was happy to get the information out to the public on the off chance that somebody had seen something.

  We hauled the steamer trunk down the dock and logged it into evidence. Afterward, we filled out after-action reports in the conference room, typing away on iPads under the pale green fluorescent lighting.

  By the time we were done, my stomach was rumbling. I'd skipped breakfast and was feeling thin from lack of sleep.

  I hopped on my bike, and JD followed me back to Diver Down. We took a seat at the bar, and Teagan greeted us with a sad face. "I saw the news that you found Eva’s remains.”

  I gave her a somber nod.

  "I just had this funny vibe that she was in a confined space.” She shivered. "I can’t imagine.” Teagan paused, and her face crinkled. "This is going to sound terrible, but I hope she wasn't still alive when she was stuffed in that steamer trunk and thrown in the water."

  "I think the blunt force trauma to the head did her in first.”

  “What a horrible way to go.” She shivered again. “Oh, I want to tell you… I saw this blonde woman walking Buddy. I figured she was one of your friends," Teagan said in air quotes, trying not to sound jealous. "But I just wanted to make sure she wasn't trying to abduct him or anything."

  I chuckled. “I know the blonde. I don't know if I would categorize her as a friend.”

  Teagan gave me a look.

  I raised my hands innocently. "I swear, I've had no invo
lvement with that woman… Recently," I muttered.

  She rolled her eyes and changed the subject. “Are you guys hungry?"

  We both nodded.

  Jack ordered the Chilean sea bass with jumbo lump crab au gratin and sautéed spinach. I ordered the blackened salmon with shrimp, scallops, and crawfish in a white wine cream sauce with dirty rice.

  Needless to say, the meal was tasty.

  Daniels called as we finished up. "Brenda’s just getting started, but she found fluid in Eva’s lungs. She was still alive when she was dumped overboard."

  I winced.

  "Damn savages,” Daniels muttered.

  "What's wrong with people?"

  "When you figure that out, let me know. In the meantime, get over to Sandpiper Point. There's a dockhand that recognized the steamer trunk. Saw it on the news. Says he remembers seeing a guy wheel it down the dock on a dolly and load it aboard a boat. Said he didn't think much of it at the time, but it struck him as odd."

  "Does he know the guy? Does he remember the name of the boat?”

  “He's not sure. Doesn't remember the name of the boat either. Says he was busy doing other things at the time and had forgotten all about it until he saw Paris’s report. Maybe she's not so bad after all."

  "What's the dock hand’s name?"

  "Derek Bartley."

  "We're on it,” I said.

  We finished up, then took the Porsche over to Sandpiper Point. The car was battered and bruised, but still drivable. It was an upscale marina filled with luxury yachts, sport boats, and nice sailboats. It was on the pricier end of the spectrum and was home to tech gurus, doctors, young lawyers, and a few celebrities.

  We inquired in the office about Derek and were told where we could find him.

  Derek was a young guy in his early 20s with dark hair and a muscular build. He was about 6’1” and wore a royal blue polo shirt with a Sandpiper Point logo embroidered on the chest. He wore white cargo shorts and deck shoes.

  Derek had a myriad of duties around the marina. Everything from maintaining the grounds to restroom sanitation. He helped customers at the fuel dock, helped with cargo and tying up and casting off lines. He assisted with storage units, boat rentals, and just about anything else the tenants might need.

  We found him on the dock helping a tenant castoff. We flashed our badges and made introductions.

  “Can you describe the guy you saw with the steamer trunk?" I asked.

  "Yeah, he was a stocky guy. Bald. Maybe 5’10”, mid-30s."

  I exchanged a glance with JD.

  “And you’re sure the trunk he had was the same one you saw on TV?"

  Derek nodded. "Pretty sure. I mean, I was busy at the time. It gets really hectic around here. I just remember seeing him wheel the trunk down the dock and thinking it was kinda cool, actually. My girlfriend’s been wanting one, but those damn things are expensive. I'm talking used-car expensive."

  I pulled up a picture of Jason Bradley on my phone and showed it to Derek.

  "Is that the guy?"

  "Yeah, that's him."

  A slight smirk tugged my lips, and I exchanged another glance with JD. We were getting closer.

  I asked Derek to come down to the station to make a sworn affidavit. He did, and we were able to get an arrest warrant for Jason Bradley and a warrant to search Nolan's residence.

  We rounded up a tactical team, which consisted of the usual suspects—Faulkner, Erickson, Mendoza, and Robinson. We left the station and headed over to the posh neighborhood of Stingray Bay.

  36

  We pulled up to Nolan’s house and parked across the street. The two silver SUVs still occupied the curb in front of the house. I rang the bell at the gate to the courtyard. No need to go in with guns blazing. Not yet, anyway.

  Nolan’s voice crackled through the speaker a moment later. “Deputy Wild, I was just about to leave for the morgue. How can I help you?”

  “We have a few additional questions for Jason.”

  “He’s not here at the moment.”

  "Do you know where he is?”

  "No, I don't. He left not too long ago. Is there some kind of problem?"

  "We have a warrant for his arrest and a warrant to search the premises."

  Nolan stammered, "You don't think he's got something to do with Eva’s death, do you?"

  "Yes, we do. I have a witness that places him at Sandpiper Point with the trunk that Eva was found in."

  Nolan gasped. "Are you sure? Eyewitness testimony is notoriously inaccurate."

  "That's why we’d like to bring him in for further questioning. You want to buzz us inside, or do I have to break down this gate?”

  "Yes, of course."

  The gate buzzed, and we pushed into the courtyard and rushed to the front door.

  Nolan opened a moment later, and his eyes rounded at the sight of deputies with tactical gear and assault rifles. He stepped aside as we flooded into the home. The deputies fanned out, searching the vast estate. We stayed behind in the foyer and spoke with Nolan for a moment.

  I regarded him with a healthy dose of suspicion.

  I showed him a picture of the steamer trunk again. "Are you sure you've never seen this before?”

  He looked frazzled as he studied the image for a moment. “Maybe. Eva had so many clothes and shoes. Her closet is bigger than my first apartment. It's possible that the trunk was here in the house, perhaps in her closet, and I didn't notice it."

  It was a convenient backtrack.

  “And you’re sure you don't know where Jason is at the moment?”

  "No, I don't know where he is, Deputy. I don't particularly like your implication. If Jason is responsible somehow, I will do everything in my power to assist you. I want my wife's killer or killers brought to justice. But I’m having a hard time believing Jason was involved. I vet my employees thoroughly.”

  “And yet one of them was having an affair with your wife, and another may have murdered her.”

  His eyes narrowed at me.

  “Does Jason have a girlfriend? What about friends or associates?”

  “I stay out of the private lives of my employees.”

  “If only they would have stayed out of yours.”

  I called Isabella and asked her to track Jason's phone. With a few keystrokes, she was able to tell me it was off the grid. Jason had probably seen the news and figured he would be picked up at any moment.

  He was officially on the run.

  Before ending the call, Isabella said, “By the way, that name you gave me… Holden Cauley… He’s a contract hitter.”

  “And?”

  “No recent activity as far as I can tell. Not since Quinn’s death. But that doesn’t mean anything. He could have gone dark or retired.”

  “Or he could be dead.”

  “Do not fall for her BS, Tyson.”

  “I won’t.”

  I called Sheriff Daniels and told him the suspect wasn’t here. He said he’d send deputies to Jason’s apartment. I asked the sheriff to set up checkpoints on the highway at the north side of the island and to contact airport security. The TSA could pick Jason up if he tried to leave the country through the commercial terminal.

  The FBO was a different story.

  You could walk through the terminal to the tarmac, and nobody would say a word. Private flights weren't bound by the same security regulations.

  "I'll send a deputy out to the FBO just in case he turns up,” Daniels said. “I'll notify the Coast Guard and send somebody over to Sandpiper Point in case he tries to get out of here on his boat. According to the registration records, he's got a 32-foot sport yacht named Bruiser. He's not getting away," Daniels assured.

  37

  We’d been through Nolan's house before, looking for any signs of an abduction. This time, I was looking for signs of murder. I played out different scenarios in my head, trying to come up with a motive.

  Why would Jason kill Eva?

  Were they having an affair? />
  Did they get into a fight?

  Or had Jason killed her at Nolan's request?

  It was cheaper than a divorce. But only if you didn’t get caught.

  We searched the guest bedrooms and bathrooms, along with the master bedroom. It was a sprawling space with a four-post canopy bed and his and hers closets that were indeed larger than most apartments.

  Eva’s closet was filled with designer gowns in a variety of cuts and colors. She could have worn a new dress every day of the week for the next several years and never have worn the same thing twice. There were rows and rows of shoes—spike heeled Manolo Blahnik's, flats, strappy suede heels with open toes… Every imaginable style and color, most with little or no wear on the soles.

  There were oodles of coats, blouses, and skirts. Three full-length mirrors made the closet look like a department store fitting room, offering multiple angles of views. There was no need to ask anyone how your backside looked—you could see for yourself.

  A dresser in the center of the closet had drawers for unmentionables, T-shirts, and jeans. There was a display case for high-end jewelry. Diamond necklaces sparkled, rings glittered, earrings dangled from golden trees. It was like walking into a designer boutique. Many of the clothing articles were bespoke, tailor-made to Eva's measurements.

  There were bleached hardwoods in the master bedroom and closets. The bathroom was tiled with luxurious Italian marble. There was a large Jacuzzi tub, a futuristic toilet, and a bidet. There were his and hers sinks and a grooming station with a magnifying mirror attached to the wall on an articulated arm. The walk-in shower stall had a glass door and a removable showerhead.

  The accommodations were the epitome of style and luxury.

  With blunt force trauma to the head, Eva would've bled considerably. The forensic investigators sprayed Luminol, a chemiluminescent substance that would glow when mixed with an oxidizing agent like iron in hemoglobin. Unfortunately, it also reacted to other oxidizing agents such as copper, bleach, horseradish, urine, fecal material, and smoke residue.