The blow to the back of his head knocked him down but didn’t stun him enough to stop him from grabbing his Smith & Wesson. The figure behind him darted for the lanai exit. Josh followed his path with the barrel of the gun and fired, the bullet taking out a chunk of the stucco corner where the assailant’s head had just been. Josh gave chase, barreling shoulder-first through the lanai door. He turned left toward the front of the house.
Just as the thought ran through his head that chasing the man might be foolish, the flash of a knife caught his eye, but it was too late. It felt more like a punch in the back than being stabbed. His gun flew into the bushes as the knife was pulled out. Josh saw the arm coming at him again and yelled, “Fucker!”
Instinctively, Josh grabbed the descending arm as the blade slashed at his neck. In a fight for his life, he threw out all convention and bit into his assailant’s arm; his teeth broke through the bare flesh, the attacker now howling like an animal until he dropped the knife. Josh tried to kick the man’s feet out from under him but was hit with an unbearable pain in his back. Dropping to his knees, he grabbed the knife lying in front of him. Brandishing the blade made the man step back out of Josh’s reach. Josh got a good look at his face. It took a few moments for the information to connect.
“You’re that satanic fuck . . . attacked Jack in the police van. Gramps was right.”
The man smiled. “Gramps?” The French accent unmistakable.
“You’re Mason. I thought you were in prison?”
“Was Mason. Unfortunately for you—I don’t know your name, though you bear resemblance to Walker—your recognition of me has sealed your fate. You see, the length of the blade you hold in your hands has passed through your right kidney, hopefully severing the artery attached to it. You will lose consciousness within a minute or so. By my calculations, I have five to eight minutes before the sirens respond to the sound of the gunshot. Then again, it is low season. Perhaps the gunfire went unnoticed.”
Josh felt a steady flow of warmth over the muscles in his behind and down his leg. He put his hand back there to feel the sticky blood, sending a wave of shock— The man could be correct. Josh’s hands numbed and the blade fell to the ground.
Mason smiled. “You see, you are dying and there is nothing that can be done about it.”
Josh slid down onto his side, no longer able to muster the strength to remain vertical. He croaked a feeble, “Go to hell . . . fucker!”
“No. I’m not a fucker. That is one thing I am not. I am, however, the master who caused your death and I will say a prayer to the Dark Lord to make sure he will welcome you to his domain. I think you might like it there.” Mason picked up the knife and slit Josh’s throat.
****
Assuming the police were on their way, he dragged the young man’s body to the canal and floated it out into the waterway. It sank as the air in the clothing slowly bubbled out. Bull sharks were prevalent in estuaries behind the barrier islands. They would no doubt do a job on the body before it could be discovered.
He went back to the side of the house and did his best to rake over the blood spilled in the garden. He retrieved the man’s gun and his own knife. Entering the lanai, he retrieved the expelled bullet cartridge in the middle of the cement floor. Looking around first, he turned off the music and the lights.
****
Strolling casually to the end of the street, Mason passed a slow-moving police cruiser. The officer in the passenger’s seat glanced at him. They had obviously been called to check on a disturbance. He hoped the dark, now quiet house would be enough to ward off any cursory investigation. They would drive by the address given and, seeing no signs of foul play, go to the 911 caller’s house for a visit.
If Mason remained calm, he would be off the island and back out to Highway 41 within twenty minutes, where he would need to find a pharmacy to attend to the bite on his arm. Human teeth could leave deadly wounds if not treated promptly. He sighed. The adventure had been messy. Still, he found some solace in the fact that it looked as if he’d dispensed of one of Walker’s family members and he’d extended the curse, and procured some of Walker’s hair.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
IT DIDN’T TAKE THEM long to find Robert Lopez’s home in North Naples. It seemed like years since Jack last drove down Immokalee Road. In fact, the last time may have been when he’d been hell-bent on killing the McFaddens. He took a deep breath.
Janie noticed. “What’s up? You look uptight all of a sudden.”
“I’m thinking that the last time I drove down this road was five years ago.”
Janie nodded. “Bad memories?”
“Sorta. Bad isn’t the right word, though. Intense memories might be better. The entire time I was imprisoned, I never felt afraid, not for one moment. Anger is a strong energy and a prevalent memory. I was incredibly angry. All I wanted to do was kick Jimmy McFadden’s buckteeth into the back of his throat. If it was the last good thing I did before I died, I was going to kill that sick, demented creature. He wasn’t even human. He was cunning, like an animal with no remorse—a perfect killing machine, who knew how to clean up after himself.”
“Put those thoughts out of your pretty head and concentrate on Robert Lopez.”
Jack turned to look at her. “Pretty head?”
“Yes, you have a pretty head, the whole package. You’re a good-looking guy, Jackson. If I were twenty—no, fifteen years younger—you’d be in trouble. What are you, twenty-nine?”
“Yep. I turn thirty in January.”
“I’m forty-nine, too old for you now. In my thirties, watch out, I’d be all over it. Once you had your birthday.”
Jack snapped his head to the side to see if Janie meant it.
When they both laughed she said, “I just like to see you squirm sometimes. For someone that’s an ex-sports star, you sure as hell can be shy. That’s what I like about you, Jack. You’re not so tough that you don’t leave your thoughts on your shirt sleeve . . . at least with me.”
Jack raised his brows. “If you say so. Be truthful, were you kidding about my thirtieth?”
She giggled at his bewildered look. “You’ll find out!”
Jack had to smile, and felt so much better. “Say, isn’t that his street up ahead? Longshore Way? Then onto Terramar Drive?”
“Yep, you got it, Jackson. Careful when you come up on the house. Like Pete said, it could be staked out.”
Sure enough, as they closed in on Lopez’s address, they saw a black Chevy Malibu sitting across the road from the house. The driver looking as if he were reading a book. Standard procedure.
Jack turned to Janie. “So, what now?”
“This golf course seems to twist all through the subdivision. Maybe we can take a look from the backside. Pull around the corner and we’ll park and walk up the fairway running in behind his place.”
Jack nodded. “Good idea.”
They parked out of the cop’s eyesight and walked to a tee serving the fairway Janie had indicated. A foursome teed off as they approached, keeping Jack and Janie standing back until the group finished with their drives. Jack was greeted by two of the men. He nodded back and hollered, “Hope you’re having a good one.”
“The beer’s cold,” one man laughed.
Another golfer stared at Jack and smiled. “Hey, Jack Walker, right?”
Jack nodded.
“Fred Andres. We played together in a Tampa celebrity event, six or seven years ago.”
Jack smiled. As time passed, it seemed fewer and fewer people recognized him—perhaps a good thing. He remembered the man. “Yes. You’re the guy who can hit it out of the park. Showed me up pretty good if I remember.”
The man smiled. “Can we get a picture with you?”
“Sure, why not?”
Jack cozied up with the foursome and the men took turns handing Janie their phones so that she could snap the shots. After he signed their hats, the group waved and headed up the fairway.
Janie shook her head. “I f
orget sometimes you used to be a celebrity.”
“So do I. That one caught me off guard.”
“You’re a natural, Jackson. Too bad your other career didn’t pan out. You were so good with those guys; they were starstruck.”
“Coulda, shoulda, woulda. That’s all gone now, Janie. I tossed it away years ago. But . . . I’m kinda stoked to get to the bottom of this case. Let’s see what we got in that house.”
****
The sun began to sink behind the trees and buildings in the subdivision and there didn’t look to be any more golfers following the group on the tee. Lopez’s house, Janie figured, was the sixth on the left. The walked casually to their destination. The backyard held no lawn furniture, unlike the neighboring properties.
They stood for a time trying to get a lay of the land. As the sun sank deeper, causing more shadows, the house became darker. Still, no lights went on inside. Jack looked at Janie. “I don’t think anyone’s in there.”
“I agree. You wanna have a closer look?”
“I don’t want to waste time if we don’t have to.”
Jack stepped over the knee-high hedge separating the home from the course and approached the screened lanai. Again, there was no furniture. His hackles rose.
The door from the backyard to the lanai wasn’t locked. Jack entered with Janie on his heel.
“Nothing,” Jack exclaimed.
Janie nodded, grabbing his hand.
Jack walked up to the french doors. He tugged on them but they were locked. Looking into the interior of the house, he saw it was clearly vacant. “Damn! I need to see the bedroom, Janie.”
“Why?”
“This guy could be just cruising on a job, using this place just to sleep. I need to see if there’s a bed that’s been slept on.”
Janie nodded, pulling out her lockpick set. “It might be better to get in through the garage; these sliders are impossible to pick.”
He nodded, and they moved to the side garage door. He made sure they were still out of sight of the neighbors and the cop car. It took Janie less than a minute to unlock the door. Inside, the story didn’t change, the house empty except for a large, flat-screen television in the living room.
After searching the other levels, they peered into an empty basement. “Lopez is gone.”
Janie nodded. “Let’s get out of here before someone sees us.”
****
They retreated to Jack’s Jeep. The sun had dropped, and darkness fell from the sky. Jack drove away from the subdivision, making sure he didn’t pass the cop car again.
“So, what do we make of this?” Janie turned to Jack.
“I’m starting to think the DA may have been correct. But what’s the motivation?”
“Seems pretty clear to me. For whatever reason, Lopez wants the Russians busted.”
“I guess. Why go through all this hassle? An anonymous call would’ve been sufficient.”
“Like the DA said, there’s a great big world out there that doesn’t revolve around Southwest Florida, and they don’t hand out search warrants for anonymous tips.”
Jack scratched his head. “The Russians have pissed someone off . . . badly.”
Janie cut him off. “Possibly. Still, they’re no better. Distributing child pornography, they’re doing bad things, and might be producing it.”
“Where does this leave us? We no longer appear to have a client.”
“Don’t we? We haven’t been given notice. We have a few circumstantial incidences that might indicate as much. We haven’t been given anything concrete to go on at this point. Lopez may have simply moved his residence for all we know.”
“Who leaves a fifty-two-inch plasma television behind? For that matter, who leaves his car at a dealership? A man who planned to fly, that’s who. You can’t take a television and a car on a fucking plane, Janie.” He slammed his palm against the steering wheel.
“Calm down. We need to tell Pete what we found out.”
“I agree, he’s the boss, but it doesn’t mean I can’t be pissed about the situation. My first big case looks as if it might dissolve right in front of me.”
Janie sighed, “I understand. We need to put one foot in front of the other and follow procedure. We have a decent retainer. We need to justify our billing. We follow through on the search warrant. Tampa police have been watching Aversions since we called it in. Jack—” She looked at him, putting her hand on his. “This isn’t the first time a client has made an end run on me while working on a case. Things happen and they tend to surface or evolve with new events. Let’s be patient and do our job.”
Jack nodded. “I can agree with that.”
“Okay then. We’ll most likely have to drive up to Tampa tomorrow, so we need to get some sleep. I didn’t get a wink last night with Josh snoring his head off.”
“You were in the bedroom?”
“Yes, but the bedroom window opens up into the lanai. He damn well honked ten feet from my head all night. Can you drop me at my place? It’s only five minutes away. I need to sleep and get a change of clothes. I’ll see you at Pete’s office tomorrow.”
“Yeah, sure.”
****
Almost on cue, as Jack pulled out of Janie’s driveway his phone rang. “Jack Walker.”
“Hi, Jackson, it’s Lolita.”
He recognized the deep female voice. He blurted out, “What’s up?”
“I said I’d get back to you. I had another dream last night. Do you feel well?”
“Actually, I feel like shit. The past few days. Crabby as all get-out.”
“I saw a cloud hanging over. If I’m not mistaken, it looks like a curse. Now, I don’t know what a curse looks like, but it was the first word to pop into my head. There’s more. There was a viper that lay watching, ready to strike. As I said when we first met, we are both in danger, and I don’t know why. I feel the climax of my premonition is close at hand.”
“I don’t believe in curses, Lolita. I thank you for the call. It’s been a long day.” He hung up. The last thing Jack needed now was a bloody palm reader getting him all riled up.
****
He pulled into his driveway, parking beside Josh’s beater pickup. Rolling out of his Jeep, Jack walked to the front door and spied a business card stuck in the crack. He read aloud, “Officer Randal Armstrong, Lee County Sheriff’s Department.” Strange.
The door was locked and, too tired to return to the Jeep for the key in the glove box, Jack walked around the house. He slipped on something wet in the grass and grabbed one of the palmetto bushes to stay upright.
Entering the lanai through its side screen door, it seemed odd not to see Josh crashed on the sofa with the music playing.
Distracted, Jack noticed the bottoms of his shoes felt tacky as he walked across the cement floor. When he saw the track of shoeprints he’d left, Jack realized the prints were reddish black. He bent to rub his finger on one of the fresher prints and smelled it. Blood!
His inner alarm went off and his knees weakened. Sitting down, Jack pulled out his cell and dialed the number on the business card. Looking around as the line rang, he saw a large hole in the wall beside the lanai doorway. His stress level kept rising. A woman answered.
“Lee County Sheriff.”
“I just arrived home and a Randal Armstrong left his card stuck in my door.”
“What is your name and address?”
“Jack Walker, 445 Ibis Lane, Ft. Myers Beach.”
“Zip?”
“33931.”
“Hold on, Mr. Walker. The officer responded to a possible gun shot. One of the neighbors called it in. Is everything okay, sir?”
Jack’s mind churned. “No. I just arrived and I need an officer at my premises.”
“Is there a problem, sir?”
“I think someone’s been shot, but I don’t see a body. I’m a lawyer. I know I shouldn’t contaminate the area and I’m going to remain inside the lanai until someone can get here.”
> “I’m sending a response team, sir. Stay on the line with me and please remain calm.”
****
Within five minutes there were four cruisers, lights flashing. They parked on the street and front lawn. Jack took off his shoes, leaving them upside down on the cement as he awaited them in the lanai. One of the officers identified himself as Randal Armstrong and sat beside Jack, explaining the gunshot call to 911 earlier.
Jack recounted his discoveries upon arriving home and how he feared the worst: his cousin, Josh, should be there and there was blood at the side of the house. No one moved, awaiting a forensic team. They didn’t take long to arrive. They quickly determined there was only one gunshot fired, and the large amount of blood showed there was an altercation followed by a body being dragged to the edge of the canal.
Jack sat sipping a beer, pale, his mind racing, trying to put together possible scenarios. Armstrong watched him.
“Mr. Walker.”
“Yes?”
“They’re taping the house as a crime scene now. You, of course, cannot stay here, most likely for a few days. Do you have a friend or relative we can take you to tonight? It would be best if you find someplace else to stay. If you can’t, you are welcome to stay at the station overnight.”
“No, that’s okay. I can drive and I have a place to stay.”
“Please give me all that information so we can keep in touch. Tomorrow morning, you will need to come in and make a statement.”
“I’ll do that. Where do I go?”
“Ben Pratt at 41.”
“That’s what I thought. Any particular time?”
“Not really.”
****
Jack dialed Janie’s number and waited.
She answered groggily. “Jack?”
He gave her a quick onceover of what happened. “Can I crash at your place?”
“No problem. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m still alive . . . Josh is missing.”
“Come right over.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
LOLITA PLAYED HOOKY. She didn’t have any clients booked for the day. She didn’t bother to open up the shop, and instead waddled down to meet the Uber driver. Anyone in psychic distress would have to wait a day. The driver took her to the bus station in downtown Bonita, where she planned to get another one to Everglades City. It would take a couple of hours, but she didn’t mind the ride.
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