The King Tides (Lancaster & Daniels Book 1)

by James Swain

  “No need to apologize. Does Nicki chat with strangers on the internet?”

  “We monitor Nicki’s internet time. Going onto chat rooms is forbidden.”

  Lancaster nodded and moved away from the window. Pearl followed him until they were standing in the center of the study.

  “Do you have any enemies, Dr. Pearl?”

  “Not that I’m aware of,” his host said.

  “Are you being sued?”

  “No.”

  “Any disagreements with other doctors at your hospital?”

  “I don’t think so. Do you think a doctor could be behind this?”

  “It’s a possibility. Chloroform is not available on the open market, but most hospitals have some in their pharmacies. That would indicate another doctor.”

  “I suggested that to the police. The detective handling the case said criminals can legally buy the chemicals to make chloroform from swimming pool companies, and mix up a batch in their kitchen.”

  “They can. The problem comes when a criminal tries to cook a batch and knocks himself out, which is what happens ninety-nine percent of the time.”

  “Your reasoning makes perfect sense. However, I only joined Broward General three months ago, which is hardly enough time to turn a colleague against me. I don’t believe another doctor is behind this.”

  Lancaster frowned and shook his head.

  “Is something wrong?” Pearl said.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to your daughter, see what she knows.”

  “My wife and I have already done that. Nicki doesn’t know a thing.”

  “You could be wrong. Every teenager has a secret life they don’t reveal to their parents. It’s part of growing up. Maybe she slips out at night, and moonlights as an exotic dancer at a local strip club, and a patron is infatuated with her. Or she’s peddling weed and owes money to her dealer. My gut tells me your kid’s in hot water, but doesn’t want to admit it.”

  “You’re out of line, Jon. No, you cannot talk to my daughter.”

  “Don’t you want to know the truth? Your daughter’s being targeted for a reason. Maybe she’ll tell us what that reason is.”

  “Your gut is wrong. Nicki’s an innocent victim.”

  “If you want to hire me, I need access to your kid. If not, sayonara.”

  Pearl’s face grew red. “Then I’m afraid I won’t be using your services.”

  “You sure about that? You’re in a real jam here.”

  “I’m positive. Thank you for your time. I hope things go well with your other case. Let me show you out.”

  Pearl led him to the foyer. The house was huge and would have been easy to get lost in. Nearing the front door, Lancaster’s cell phone rang, the ring tone Jimmy Buffett singing, “Why don’t we get drunk and screw?” He pulled the cell phone from his pocket and stared at the screen. “Do you mind? It’s my tracker.”

  “By all means,” Pearl said.

  He answered the call. “Hey, Shorty, you getting close?”

  “I’ve got another two hours in front of me,” Shorty said.

  “What’s the holdup?”

  “There was a wreck on the turnpike. I’m going to be stuck for a while.”

  “Call me when you get there.”

  He ended the call. Pearl twisted the knob on the front door.

  “If I do a search on Google, will I find out why you use bloodhounds to find living people?” Pearl asked. “I thought dogs were only used to find the dead. Or is that just something I saw on forensic crime shows on television?”

  “You won’t find it on Google. It’s something new,” he said.

  “My loss. Goodbye, Jon.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to think this over?”

  “I already have. You’re the wrong person for the job. Have a nice day.”

  “Talk to your daughter, Dr. Pearl. She knows what’s going on.”

  “You think my daughter’s not trustworthy?”

  “Your words, not mine.”

  Pearl’s lips trembled in anger. Lancaster had gotten under his skin, and he hoped Pearl would accept that Nicki was somehow involved with the men who were stalking her. As he started to say goodbye, his words were interrupted by a piercing scream.

  CHAPTER 2

  SNEAKIN’ AND PEEKIN’

  Certain sounds set off chemical reactions in the body that turn normal men into heroes. A child’s scream is one of those sounds. Pearl sprinted through the house like an Olympic runner chasing the gold while Lancaster struggled to keep up.

  “Your daughter?” Lancaster asked.

  “Yes,” Pearl said over his shoulder.

  They passed through the kitchen—where a small TV was tuned to a cooking show—into a laundry room that led to a door opening to the backyard. Coming outside, Lancaster did a quick sweep and saw everything that he needed to know. Nicki was gone, while the German shepherd purchased to protect her was snoozing in the grass, courtesy of the tranquilizer dart sticking out of its side.

  “They’re getting away,” Pearl said.

  “You see them?” Lancaster asked.

  “Yes, I see them.”

  A Donzi classic was moored at the dock. Pearl got behind the wheel and searched his key chain for the key, which he jammed into the ignition. Lancaster untied the boat and hopped in, and they sped down the waterway. Two hundred yards ahead, a black cigarette boat was churning up the water. Lancaster shielded his eyes from the blinding sun to get a better look. Two men in shorts and long-sleeve T-shirts. Both wearing ball caps and shades. Their body language reminded him of the kidnappers from the Galleria. They worked in tandem, without having to resort to time-wasting verbal commands. They’d been doing bad shit for so long that it was second nature. The smaller one was at the wheel while his partner wrestled with Nicki, who was putting up one hell of a fight, kicking and screaming as she tried to break free.

  “Hit your horn,” Lancaster said.

  “But they’ll know we’re following them,” Pearl protested.

  “That’s the idea. Do it.”

  The Donzi’s horn was electric and sounded like a fire siren. Both kidnappers’ heads snapped to the sound, letting Lancaster get a good look at them. Late forties, deep tans, no visible tattoos or piercings, they looked like a couple of ordinary guys out for a day on the water. What wasn’t ordinary was how they reacted to being spotted. Their boat sped up.

  “They’re getting away!” Pearl said.

  Once they hit open water, the Donzi would be no match for the cigarette boat, and the kidnappers would disappear into the wind. Lancaster had learned long ago that when it came to emergency situations, he who hesitated was lost, and he drew the M2.0 from behind his belt buckle. Holding the gun with both hands, he went into a crouch. He had dealt with kidnappers before. As criminals went, they were cowardly and predictable. Rather than getting caught and going to prison, a smart kidnapper would dump his victim if being chased, knowing there were other victims down the road.

  Not here. These kidnappers were hell-bent on keeping their victim, despite being seen. Nicki was the prize, and he felt certain there would be no ransom note or late-night phone call demanding that Pearl drop a suitcase stuffed with unmarked hundred-dollar bills at a specified location. These boys had something else in mind, and didn’t care that they’d been seen. That wasn’t normal. Lancaster cocked one eye.

  “What are you doing?” Pearl shouted.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” he shouted back.

  “You could kill my daughter!”

  “Do you want to see her again?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then shut the hell up.”

  What Lancaster liked most about the M2.0 was its aggressive grip texture. Once a target was in his sights, he had no fear of the gun slipping out of his hands. It was as simple as point, aim, and fire. Which is what he did, three times.

  He’d learned to shoot in the military and was a crack marksman. Pressure did n
ot faze him, nor was he afraid of hitting an innocent victim, which he’d never done, despite having shot over a dozen very bad men as a cop and in the military. All three bullets found their mark and tore through the back of the smaller kidnapper’s shirt, causing him to pitch forward onto the wheel. The cigarette boat slowed down. Seeing her chance, Nicki kicked his partner in the groin and broke free. There was no greater instinct than survival, and she took a heroic leap off the back of the boat and dove into the water.

  “Go girl!” her father yelled.

  Pearl pulled back on the throttle in order not to run his daughter over. The second kidnapper made a rifle appear and pointed it at the Donzi.

  “Get down,” Lancaster said.

  Pearl killed the engine, and they both hit the deck. Instead of the rifle’s blast, Lancaster heard a roar and lifted his head to watch the cigarette boat race away. The smaller kidnapper was at the wheel, no worse for wear. He must be wearing a bulletproof vest, Lancaster thought. There was no doubt in his mind it was the same two bastards from the Galleria mall.

  “I could use some help,” Pearl said.

  Nicki had swum over to the side of the boat, and they grabbed her arms and hoisted her from the water. The poor kid was scared out of her mind. She sobbed as her father tried to comfort her.

  Pearl motored back to the house. Nicki’s mother stood on the dock, choking on her tears. She was ten years younger than her husband and not hard on the eyes. Nicki came off the boat into her mother’s arms, and they shared a good cry. Lancaster tossed the M2.0 into the water, where it made a large plop.

  Shooting a suspect had been no fun when he was a cop. Each time he’d shot a suspect, he’d been assigned to a desk while an internal investigation was conducted. The investigation included psychological testing and hours of questions, and was as much fun as having a colonoscopy. The shootings captured by the YouTube video had been worse, and the investigation had dragged on for months. He’d finally had enough and turned in his badge. Since then, he’d shot two people, and discovered the drill was different. If there were no witnesses or incriminating videos, the shooting came down to a he said/she said. This was an advantage for the shooter, especially if the victim died. The shooter could make up a believable story, and there would be no one to dispute it. Better yet, the shooter could ditch the gun, and make the whole thing go away.

  “I can’t believe you just did that,” Pearl said.

  “Pretend you didn’t see anything,” he said.

  “Look, I plan to call the police, and file a report.”

  “You do that.”

  “Will you corroborate my story?”

  “No, I’m leaving. There are two detectives with the sheriff’s office named Vargas and Gibbons who hate me. It would be my luck if they responded to your call.”

  “We need the police to hear what happened.”

  “You tell them. Leave me out of it.”

  “But we need the police’s help.”

  “Have they helped you so far?”

  “They’re conducting an investigation. What else can they do?”

  Lancaster lowered his voice so Nicki and her mother couldn’t hear. “The police can do any damn thing they want to, if they want to. But so far, they haven’t. There’s a reason for that. The police believe Nicki is tied into some type of bad activity, like drug dealing or selling her body, and is bringing this situation upon herself. So they’re not interested in helping. You can file a report, but don’t expect anything to come of it.”

  Lancaster jumped out of the boat and nodded at the mother before heading inside. As he neared the front door, Pearl appeared.

  “My wife called 911,” the doctor said.

  “Then I need to beat it. I hope you get to the bottom of this,” he said.

  He did not want to have another encounter with Vargas and Gibbons. The last time, they’d run him in on a trumped-up charge, and made his life miserable before his attorney had bailed him out of jail. The charges had later been dropped.

  He went outside. His Camaro was parked in the street beneath the shade of a cluster of royal palms. In South Florida, it was all about the shade when it came to parking a car, even if it meant walking half a mile.

  Pearl came up behind him, breathing hard. “Wait.”

  “I can’t. Sorry.”

  “But I need to explain something to you.”

  “All right, but make it fast.”

  “My family and I lived in Dubai for the past five years while I ran the neurology department of a large hospital. We only returned to the United States three months ago. Nicki hasn’t had time to get herself in the kind of trouble that you’re describing. I know this sounds trite, but she’s an innocent child.”

  “You’re saying your kid couldn’t know who’s behind this.”

  Pearl nodded vigorously.

  “Where does she go to school now?”

  “Pine Crest. It’s the finest private school in the area. She’s taking several Advanced Placement classes. All she does is study.”

  “I’ve heard of it. No time to get in trouble, huh?”

  “She wants to be a doctor like her father. I told her it wasn’t easy.”

  “Then who the hell are these guys stalking her?”

  “God only knows.”

  A police siren blared in the distance, and he judged it to be less than a mile away. He said goodbye and started toward his car. Pearl’s hand touched his sleeve.

  “I want to hire you, if you’re still interested,” Pearl said.

  As courtships went, this one had taken a while. Pearl had a situation that the police weren’t going to solve, and he had money, and in Lancaster’s experience those were the best kind of clients to have. If there was a problem, it was that Pearl was a doctor, and doctors were used to calling the shots. He decided to lay down the ground rules now, just so they were both clear who was in charge.

  “I still need to talk to your kid,” he said.

  “May my wife and I be present?” Pearl asked.

  “I don’t see why not.”

  “Then yes, of course.”

  “Then you and I have a deal, Dr. Pearl. I’ll call you once my job in Melbourne is over. In the meantime, keep Nicki inside the house. No more lounging by the pool.”

  Pearl nodded.

  “And whatever you do, don’t let strangers inside the house for any reason. Those two guys in the cigarette boat were real pros. They spent the afternoon cruising the Intracoastal, sneakin’ and peekin’.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means to case a place. It’s a special ops expression.”

  “I see. Were you in special ops?”

  “I was a Navy SEAL. Don’t act so surprised.”

  The siren was drawing closer, less than a few blocks away. Pearl cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to sound vulgar, but what are your fees?”

  “I need a new refrigerator made by a company called Bosch,” he said. “I’ve already got it picked out. I’ll text you the details.”

  “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

  “No joke. That’s how I get paid. I also need to get reimbursed for the gun I tossed, seeing how it was your kid’s life I saved. Are you good with that?”

  “Whatever you’d like, Jon. It’s your show.”

  “I’m glad we’ve come to this agreement. Goodbye, Dr. Pearl.”

  He hustled over to his car. His shirt lifted as he climbed in, exposing his big belly. He shut the door and glanced at his new client, who’d remained in the driveway. Pearl wore a frown that hadn’t been there moments ago.

  Get over it, he nearly said. He’d been born with a belly. Growing up, he’d been left off teams because the coaches thought he was overweight, and shamed by girls because of his looks. That had changed after he became a SEAL. No one in the navy had made fun of his appearance. All that had mattered to the navy was his ability to accomplish a dangerous mission in a hostile environment with an enemy who wished to kill him. On tha
t playing field, he’d had no peers.

  Pearl didn’t know any of this. For all Pearl knew, he’d just hired a fat bum. He lowered his window.

  “Stop worrying,” he said, and drove off.

  CHAPTER 3

  JANEY

  Driving toward I-95, he asked Google Maps for instructions to Melbourne so he’d have the quickest route. Shorty would be arriving soon, and he wanted to be there to supervise the search for the missing girl, Janey MacKenzie.

  Janey’s grandmother, an elderly lady named Sheila Dotson, had hired him to find her missing granddaughter. As payment, Mrs. Dotson had agreed to buy new dishes and cutlery for his apartment, which were sorely needed. Mrs. Dotson lived off her Social Security, so he’d told her to pick the items off the Walmart website, and not spend too much. But first he had to get there. Google was telling him traffic was standing still and that there was no estimated time of arrival. That had disaster written all over it, and he found a Starbucks and called Shorty from the parking lot.

  “I’m thirty minutes away,” the tracker said. “Where are you?”

  “Stuck in Fort Lauderdale,” he said. “Call me when you arrive. You can start the search, and I’ll direct you with my laptop.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Did you tell the sheriff I’d be coming?”

  “I did, and he okayed it. He also told me that I was wasting my time. I’m looking forward to proving him wrong.”

  “What an idiot. I’ll call you when I pull in.”

  His next call was to Mrs. Dotson. She whiled away her days on the living room couch with a mangy mutt and a flat screen TV tuned to The 700 Club.

  “Mrs. Dotson, it’s Jon Lancaster. Do you mind turning the TV down?”

  The volume was lowered. “Hello, Jon. I hope you’re calling with good news.”

  “We’re going to be starting our search soon. I was calling to see if you’d gotten any additional texts from Janey.”

  “Yes, matter of fact, I did get a text. It was from him.”

  “The kidnapper?”

  “I’m sure of it. He’s using Janey’s phone and pretending to be her. He said Grandmom, I’ll be home soon. That’s how I knew. Janey calls me Grans. It’s her special name for me.”