[Indigo Brothers 01.0] Indigo Fire

by Vickie McKeehan

  “It certainly doesn’t help matters,” Jackson acknowledged, rubbing the back of his neck where tension had formed in between his shoulder blades. The headache from hell was beginning to ratchet up in his already aching temples. “Right now I’m having a hard time thinking straight. Could we table this discussion until tonight after we get the first search behind us?”

  “Sure,” she said, more than a little disheartened at his unusual reaction. But then, she was still a virtual stranger in this cliquish town. In the face of family, what had she really expected from Walker’s brother-in-law? It was one thing for kin to badmouth Livvy’s husband for being a louse, quite another to view him as a suspect in her brother’s disappearance.

  For now, she rolled up her sleeves and reported for duty. The day had already hit eighty degrees by the time she went out with the first group, a tedious but necessary task of tacking up more posters to as many poles as she could find and as many business windows that would give her permission.

  Rubbing elbows with the locals had its advantages. She got to make the case for finding her brother, one on one, armed with a photo to boot. Her pitch seemed to work. She noticed the people acted a hundred times friendlier than before, almost as if they’d had a one-eighty change of heart. As she ambled along the streets, even she understood none of it would’ve been possible without Jackson. The fact that he’d lumped Ryan’s disappearance in with the Buchanans’ might trigger a resolve.

  But when her group ran out of posters, instead of heading back to the command center with the others, Tessa opted to slip away. She backtracked to the hotel parking lot where she’d left her car. It was time to deal with her own problems, which meant she needed to walk her path alone, at least for tonight.

  It was nearing dusk by the time the volunteers began returning in waves to the command center where they’d started out that morning. Muddy and sweaty and suffering from mosquito bites, they streamed through the doors, dejected looks on their faces. No one had found a trace of the Buchanan family, not even a single noteworthy item to tag and hand off to the authorities.

  Their lack of success had made them stay out longer than the assignment entailed hoping to stumble on a clue or two. Empty-handed, they hadn’t dragged themselves back to the marina until they’d lost the light.

  With the first attempt behind them, a downhearted Jackson began to rally everyone for the next day. “Those of you who are able to take the day off, meet back here in the morning. I realize most of you have jobs. But any amount of time you could spare would be greatly appreciated. Keep in mind we’re committed to repeating this process until we bring them home.”

  After the last volunteer had been accounted for, Jackson turned to his brothers. “I just realized I might’ve spoken out of turn earlier when I declared we were in this for the long haul. It’s one thing to say it and another to fully commit. Are you guys prepared to do this indefinitely until we find them?”

  Mitch was the first to speak up. “You bet. Looking at the grid map, we’ve barely scratched the surface. There’s a lot of island yet to cover.”

  But Garret was more pragmatic. “What if we’re all looking in the wrong place? What if they aren’t on land at all?” He looked out past the marina and beyond to the waters of the Atlantic. “If you wanted to dispose of a body or several, where’s the perfect place to get rid of your victims?”

  His arms swung wide. “We’re surrounded by water. You take out a boat large enough to hold four victims, weigh them all down so they stay down, and then dump them one by one over the side. They wouldn’t surface for weeks, maybe months, if they washed up at all.”

  Mitch let out a sigh. “You’re the first to voice what’s been in the back of my mind since I woke up at three o’clock this morning and couldn’t go back to sleep. The ocean is the perfect dumping ground.”

  About that time Jackson spotted his parents coming through the door. His father looked downright worn out and his mother looked as though she’d aged ten years overnight.

  “Do me a favor,” Jackson groaned. “Don’t mention that kind of shit with Mom nearby. Besides that, there are certain things we need to address right now, like the reward the press asked about earlier.”

  “I’ll put up fifty grand,” Mitch asserted.

  “Make it one hundred,” Garret offered, lifting a shoulder in a modest gesture. “I signed a new endorsement two months ago for a brand new line of surfing gear.”

  Pride moved through Jackson. “Might as well make it one-fifty.”

  Tanner and Lenore gaped at their sons. But it was Lenore who asked, “You guys have that kind of cash on hand?”

  Jackson shifted his feet. “We all make a good living doing what we love doing. You guys taught us that, to do what we love. The thing is there’s no doubt in my mind that if things were reversed, Livvy would do exactly the same thing for any of us if she were the one standing in this spot.”

  “That’s the truth of it,” Garret said in agreement.

  Jackson stuffed his hands into the pockets of his khaki shorts. “Look, I hate to shift this discussion into another dire possibility, but it’s unavoidable. I was approached this afternoon by a retired sheriff’s deputy who suggested that, at some point down the road, we might need to utilize a website called NamUs.”

  Garret shot his older brother a disgusted look. “But you just got onto me and said you didn’t want us talking like that.”

  Jackson rubbed his forehead. “I know. But it occurs to me that putting the info into NamUs means covering all our bases. It doesn’t mean we’ve accepted that scenario as fact.”

  Tanner looked over at his wife’s face. “So that website is exactly what it sounds like?”

  “I’m afraid so. It’s a centralized database for law enforcement and medical examiners from all over the country to use as a resource in hopes of identifying remains.”

  But Lenore wasn’t ready to accept that as an option. “What does that have to do with Livvy and the kids? You’re wasting your time.” Her voice cracked. “I keep telling you Livvy, Blake, and Ally are not dead. They’re not,” she insisted. “They’ll come back to us when whatever scared them off is over with, when they think the danger’s passed, they’ll come back home. You’ll see. There’s no doubt in my mind that Livvy’s simply waiting for a safe time to call home, that’s all.”

  Jackson studied his mom’s face, a mound of resentment welling up. No son should be put in a position where these things had to be explained to a grieving mother, let alone his own.

  He scanned the room, got the nod from Mitch and Garret to continue. Choosing his words carefully, he tried an assuring tone. “Mom, in the event this doesn’t have the happy ending we all want, NamUs is another tool to connect with other agencies around the country to help us locate them.”

  Mitch picked up the refrain. “None of us wants to consider the worst case scenario. But if remains are found anywhere in Florida that need identification, this website will know about it. You and Dad won’t have to log on. One of us will check it daily for any new leads. And we had to notify the center for missing kids. There’s no discussion about that.”

  Lenore put a hand over her mouth. “Well, I refuse to think that way. Give Livvy enough time and everything will work out. She’ll call. I know she will.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Jackson said, knowing there was one more thing they needed to cover before everyone headed back to the house. “I say it’s time to hire a private investigator before this thing gets out of hand and the case dries up completely. By hiring one now, we take the initiative. We capitalize with the only advantage we have at the moment. Today we captured the media’s interest, not just Florida but nationwide. Now we have to keep it by bringing in someone who knows what he’s doing. The problem is I have no idea who to contact in that area. I’m not sure we’ll get the best man for the job by looking it up in the Yellow Pages. So does anyone have suggestions?”

  Mitch cleared his throat. “There’s a guy
in Miami who fits the bill. He’s well known for his work in high profile cases. His name’s Anthony Marcelli. He’s a former detective with Miami PD and has a decent rep for not giving up until he gets answers. He’s the one who tackled that case five years ago where an ex-wife talked some jerkwad into murdering her former husband for the million-dollar life insurance she carried on him.”

  A pained look crossed Jackson’s face. “I remember that case. The woman’s name was Amelia Emberson. It was a jumbled mess before Marcelli was able to slog through the leads and find out what really happened.”

  “Yeah. And Marcelli never quit until he gathered enough evidence to take to the cops who ended up bringing Emberson down. A jury convicted her and now she’s serving life in Broward for the solicitation of capital murder.”

  Garret nodded. “I’ve heard of Marcelli. He’s also the one who did all that work to find that newborn baby abducted from the hospital nursery three years back. It was all over the Internet how he pursued the kidnappers until he solved the case.”

  Tanner blew out a breath. “It sounds like this Marcelli knows his stuff. You okay with that, Lenore?”

  “Anything to bring Livvy and the kids home.”

  “Then let’s go with him. Who makes the call?”

  Garret took a step forward. “I’ll do it. Mitch organized the search while you took over getting account details out of the bank. First thing in the morning I’ll reach out to Marcelli.”

  “Okay then. We’re all exhausted. Let’s get some sleep, try to wake up refreshed, and prepare to do it all over again tomorrow.”

  Chapter Seven

  Tessa started her day before eight o’clock with one mindset. Talk to as many boat owners as she could to find the one Walker had used to take Ryan fishing. It sounded like a longshot. But she had to try. And if she did get lucky, maybe she could sneak on board to take a look around, or better still, talk the owner into giving her a tour himself.

  She lifted her face to the ocean breeze and found loons and herons diving for their breakfast. The water, an iridescent jade, was a wonder. So crystal clear you could see the sandy bottom below. Any other time she would’ve loved to park her fanny on the beach, or dip her toes in the water and go snorkeling. But she wasn’t here to play tourist.

  Walking along the pier, gazing out at the sea-foam ocean currents, a dreadful thought ran through her mind. She’d been raised on Nags Head, been around the ocean her entire life. She knew exactly what the sea could do to a body. She also knew how often people went missing on the water and the body never surfaced at all. Her heart sank at the prospect. She shivered at the notion Ryan could have ended up like that. The thought made her ready for an all-day quest if that’s what it took.

  She followed the signs to at least a dozen yacht owners advertising charters. She circled the docks but at each place had a difficult time getting anyone to talk to her.

  But then, at the umpteenth stop she got lucky—a charter service operated by a one-man band named Paulie Gruden.

  She watched as Paulie stood over a folding table gutting a large tuna he’d caught just that morning. He wore a pair of cutoffs and a green T-shirt that read, “Old Fishermen Never Die They Just Smell Like They Do.” A generous growth of beard covered the man’s weathered face and went with his shaggy mane of graying hair. When he flashed his smile it showed several missing teeth. But fortunately for Tessa, Paulie seemed affable and liked to talk.

  “You look like you’re lost. What’re you lookin’ for there, girl?”

  “Could you tell me if Walker Buchanan chartered one of your boats around Labor Day to take a tourist out fishing for marlin or barracuda?”

  Because Paulie had a wad of tobacco in his mouth, he had to stop and spit before he could answer. “No, ma’am, Walker wouldn’t need to charter a boat for fishing since he owns a real nice one hisself, a forty footer with all the fancy bells and whistles people like the Buchanans could ever wish for.”

  “Really?” She frowned. Why had Jackson not mentioned that to her before? Would it have made a difference? “Which one is it? Could you point it out to me?”

  Paulie raised a lean finger and pointed to Walker’s blue and white yacht docked in one of the slips about ten boats away. The powerful cruiser had a wraparound helm and a walk-through flybridge. Etched on the side wasn’t the name Tessa expected. It wasn’t Livvy’s name written in silver letters, but that of another. The Misty Dawn rocked in the waves.

  Tessa listened as Paulie ran through the boat’s list of features. “That one’s top of the line, fully-loaded. She’s got two staterooms and two heads, and a nice GPS system. Wouldn’t belong to a Buchanan if it wasn’t first-rate classy.”

  “Do you have any idea the last time Walker took the boat out?”

  Paulie cocked his head and spit again as if thinking. “Probably, near as I can remember, about ten days ago. You know he’s missing, right? Been missing since last Thursday. The whole family’s up and left town. Didn’t take the boat though.”

  “I heard. What do you think happened to them?”

  “Got themselves into a mess of trouble, probably,” Paulie surmised. “That boy always did push people’s buttons the wrong way, ever since he was old enough to talk.”

  “Have the police been on board that you know of since the family went missing?”

  Paulie scratched his head and tried to tone down his mass of hair. “Not to my knowledge. Nobody’s been coming around here asking ’cept you.”

  “Do you think anyone would mind if I looked around it?”

  “You mean go on board? You one of them reporters that’s lookin’ for a story?”

  “No. My brother went missing right after Labor Day. I’m trying to find out what happened to him.”

  “Is that a fact? Didn’t hear nothin’ ’bout that on the news.”

  Tessa did her best to contain the knot of resentment over that fact. “My brother’s name’s Ryan. I’m Tessa.”

  Paulie spat again and shrugged, leaning in toward her. “Nice to make your acquaintance. I’ll tell you what, Tessa. The Misty Dawn ain’t my boat so I won’t tell nobody if you want to go take a look on ’er. In fact, I’ll even stand lookout.”

  Tessa gave him her friendliest smile. “That’d be great if you could spare fifteen minutes.”

  “Hell, for a purty girl like you, I’ll spare thirty.”

  Tessa proceeded after Paulie down the wooden pier where she slipped aboard the Misty Dawn while her new friend stood guard.

  Standing on the bow, she tried to picture Ryan fishing off its railing. She did the same with the man she knew as Walker, trying to picture him standing at the helm, setting a course out to the deep waters of the Atlantic.

  She headed below deck. But before reaching the galley, an overwhelming smell of bleach hit her. The antiseptic odor permeated what had to be the boat’s deep-sea fishing history. How many tarpon had been caught and brought on board and ended up gutted in this very spot? How much bleach did it take to mask the odor of dead fish?

  Tessa pondered that as she went about checking the cabins. The place had a masculine feel to it rather than being suited for family. To her, there was no sign of a woman’s touch anywhere. It certainly didn’t give off an indication that Livvy and her children had ever spent a great deal of time sailing Sugar Bay with daddy.

  But Tessa wasn’t done snooping. The galley was so tidy and orderly she moved on to peruse through the library of books sitting on shelves. There were several novels written by noted authors along with a stack of magazines. Tessa got curious and started thumbing through Walker’s choices, only to find the sailing publications hid a sizable collection of hardcore men’s magazines.

  She abandoned the centerfolds and moved into the first stateroom, took a few moments to admire the elegant wood trim and the tasteful décor including all the gold accents. On impulse she pulled out her cell phone to capture the image. While it might not be her kind of design thing, she might be able to get a blog post
out of the idea.

  There were lockers to check out, so she slid open what amounted to closets. She found the usual men’s clothing, the extra pairs of tennis shoes and boots. There were all kinds of fishing gear taking up space. It made her wonder what exactly she was looking for. Everything seemed in locked its place, maybe too nice and tidy for a reason.

  She crossed over to the second stateroom and found the same personal touches here that were so prevalent in the first room. She slid open drawers, only to feel disappointment when she found them empty. But as she scanned the floor, something flashed in the corner, a flicker of silver. She got down on all fours to get a better look. By the time she reached out to touch the metal, a lump had formed in her throat. Her fingers held Ryan’s medical ID bracelet, a stainless steel mesh band he wore around his wrist to alert people that he suffered from epilepsy.

  Tessa got to her feet only to see Paulie standing in the doorway. She slipped the bracelet into the back pocket of her jeans.

  “Everything okay in here? You ready to go? Sorry to rush you, but I gotta get back to work.”

  Even though she felt like throwing up, Tessa nodded, doing her best to play it cool. “Thanks for keeping an eye out there for me.”

  “No problem. Find what you were looking for in here?”

  Tessa shook her head, not wanting to give anything away. “No, there’s nothing here.”

  “I guess that’s the reason the cops didn’t come snooping around first,” Paulie said when they were walking back to the dock. “Nothing here to find.”

  At Paulie’s comment resentment boiled up inside Tessa. She now understood how little time Sinclair had actually spent searching for her brother. The fact that it had been little more than a cursory probe at best made her want to hit something or someone.

  While she watched Paulie go back to his gutted tuna, she dug out the medical ID bracelet, rubbed her fingers over the engraving. This was clearly a bad sign. With her other hand she took out her cellular, let the phone ring on the other end until her father picked up back in Nags Head. Tessa heard the familiar Carolina drawl. And it was like music to her ears.