“Not really. He definitely took a round to the left shoulder but that’s all we could tell.”
“How’s the security guard?”
“He’s in stable condition. Zach and I are going to interview him tomorrow.”
“What about the other ELF guy who was shot?”
“He’s in critical condition. They’re not sure if he’s going to make it. He didn’t have any kind of identification on him.”
“Can we run his fingerprints?”
“Yes. He’s under arrest, so he’s not going anywhere. As soon as the doctor allows the police to scan his prints, we’ll know his identity if he’s in the system. All three of the terrorists were wearing masks, so we couldn’t get a description of the two who escaped. From the video, they appeared to be males, but it’s impossible to know for sure. We’re hoping the guy in the hospital will talk.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. If the Earth Liberation Front activists are like the Animal Liberation Front activists, then he will more than likely tell you to pound sand. Are you slapping federal charges on him?”
“Definitely. The locals will initially charge him to hold him, but then we’ll work together to hit him with federal terrorism charges. The bomb squad collected the explosives from the scene and are holding the evidence for us. We’re going to send the explosives to the lab and have them do a comparison to the earlier attacks. It should be easy to tie the attacks together. And now we know there were a minimum of three people involved, so he can be charged with conspiracy as well. Add the attempted murder charge on top and this guy is looking at life in prison. You sure he won’t talk?”
“I’m not sure of anything. It’s been my experience that the extremists are not as willing to cooperate as other criminals, even though they are facing huge prison terms. But I certainly hope he does talk.”
“Me, too,” Don said. “I guess we need to figure out a time to get together with Tony and his source. This day has turned out to be the day from hell.”
“Don’t worry about it for now,” Lexie said. “Get your case under control and then we’ll figure it out. I have a lead to run down, so I’ll work my end while you gather what you need to charge the guy in the hospital.”
“Do you need help with anything?”
“Nope. I’m good. I’ll let you know if I come up with anything.”
“I’ll do the same.”
***
Still full from her large lunch with Logan, Lexie microwaved herself a bag of popcorn for dinner and plopped in front of the television. The local news covered the attempted terrorist attack, but she didn’t learn anything new.
She heard her phone chime, indicating a text message.
I had a great time at lunch. Can’t wait to see you again.
Lexie smiled and answered back.
Me too. Thanks for the boat rental, too.
My pleasure. I’ll call you tomorrow.
I’ll answer.
Lexie went to bed with a smile on her face. She enjoyed flirting with Logan. She wondered if there might be a chance for a real relationship with someone like him. What would he think of her if he knew the truth? According to Bureau protocol, Lexie could never tell Logan the truth, and one day she would simply disappear. That didn’t sit right with her. Depending upon how the case ended, maybe she would be able to tell him the truth. Perhaps he would forgive her for lying to him.
Lexie tossed and turned most of the night. She woke up to a pounding headache. After fumbling around on the nightstand for her phone, she pushed the home button and was blinded by the bright light. It was 5:45 a.m., too early to get up, but she knew she would not be able to fall back asleep.
Half asleep, she stumbled to the bathroom. She hesitated and stared at her reflection in the mirror. For a brief moment, she found herself unrecognizable. Her hair stuck out all over her head and her eyes were puffy with dark circles under them.
I look like I’ve been rode hard and put up wet.
Lexie searched the medicine cabinet, found a bottle of ibuprofen, and popped four in her mouth. Using her hands, she washed the pills down with water from the bathroom sink faucet.
Lexie plodded into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. She ate handfuls of dry cereal while she waited for the coffee to brew.
After having a second cup of coffee, Lexie called Don.
“Any news?” she asked.
“The terrorist in the hospital has been identified as Samuel Young, a thirty-nine-year-old white male from Anderson, South Carolina.”
Lexie put her coffee mug down and took a seat.
“A South Carolina guy? That’s unexpected.”
“He has a lengthy criminal history, mostly drug charges.”
Lexie sat straight up.
“Drugs?”
“Yep. Drug trafficking.”
“None of this makes any sense, Don. A local man claiming to be an ELF extremist with a history of drug trafficking? Did he have any arrests for vandalism or anything related to extremist behavior?”
“Nope. Nothing. And you were right, we tried to talk to him and he told us to go to hell.”
“I wouldn’t give up on him,” Lexie said.
“I thought you said that an ELF member wouldn’t cooperate?”
“I did, but this guy is no ELF extremist. I’m not sure who he is, but he doesn’t fit the profile for an extremist.”
“Doesn’t matter now. He’s lawyered up. We’ll have to see what his attorney advises him to do after he sees the mountain of evidence that we have on his client. I’ll keep you apprised of the situation as it unfolds.”
Lexie hung up the phone and gathered her equipment. She knew that her seaplane theory was correct and she intended to prove it. She had a boat and a plan.
19
Lexie loaded the small boat with supplies. She packed
her binoculars and camera in a waterproof bag and stowed it under the captain’s chair. Properly outfitted with a full tank of gas and a cooler filled with water and food, she purposely waited until the afternoon to shove off. Lexie wanted to get a good look at the area around Spirit Island during the daylight, but she also wanted to be in the vicinity after dark to keep an eye out for the mysterious seaplane.
The ride to Spirit Island was smooth and relaxing, despite the ninety-five-degree temperature. Remembering her navigation lessons, she stayed near the middle of the river where it narrowed. She cruised the perimeter of Spirit Island and decided to stop to see if Rommy was home. As she tied off her boat, she heard a familiar voice.
“Look what the cat dragged in.”
“Hey, Rommy. What’s up?”
“What’s up with you, sistuh? You buy this boat?”
“I’m leasing it while the owner is out of town. Figured it would be a good way to decide if I need to buy one.”
Rommy examined the small skiff.
“Nice little boat,” he said. “How’s Captain Meade?”
“He’s good. I miss hanging out with him.”
“You wanna glass of iced tea or a beer?”
“A glass of sweet tea would be fantastic.”
“My auntie made a cobbler with fresh peaches. Can I tempt you into having a bowl?”
Lexie laughed. “You twisted my arm.”
The two sat at a picnic table, protected by the shade of a two-hundred-year old oak tree.
“The cobbler is delicious,” Lexie said.
“The women of Spirit Island can cook. They use old recipes from days gone by.”
“I need the recipe for this cobbler.”
“I’d have to translate it from Gullah for you.”
“Maybe I’ll just make a habit of stopping by and mooching your aunt’s cobbler.”
“That sounds like a better plan,” Rommy said. “So, what brings you to my neck of the woods?”
“I’m chasing the elusive National Geographic photo. Besides, this is the most beautiful part of South Carolina. You shouldn’t keep it all to yourself.”
&nbs
p; Rommy laughed. “I have to agree with you there.”
“How’s the tour business?”
“It’s getting better. I had a nice size group this morning. I just finished cleaning my boat when I saw you pull up.”
“That’s great. It’s tough getting a new business going.”
“Yeah, but I’ll get there.”
“Can I ask you a question about the area?”
“Ask away.”
“I’ve noticed this seaplane flying low in these parts. He seems to be flying weird times of the day and night. You know what he’s up to?”
Rommy’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m going to give you a bit of friendly advice. Don’t you worry about that plane.”
“That’s what Captain Meade said, too.”
“Meade is a smart man, so you listen to him.”
“Does the plane land near here?”
“I do declare, girl. What did I just say?”
“I know. I know. I’m not saying I’m gonna do anything stupid, I’m just curious.”
“I think we both know that whoever is flying that plane is up to no good. It’s none of your concern, so mind your own business. If you want to keep eating my aunt’s cobbler, you’ll stay away from those people.”
After polishing off another serving of cobbler, Lexie said good-bye to Rommy and shoved off. She navigated her boat through the narrow canals near Cat Island. There were no signs that anyone was living on the island. She photographed the island and found a shady spot to sit and wait.
The sun was starting to set, which meant the South Carolina mosquitos were out in full force. Lexie sprayed down with bug spray, but that didn’t deter the tenacious pests. She swatted the air as the pesky insects buzzed around her ears.
She kept her camera ready in case the seaplane made an appearance before dark. Lexie heard her phone ringing. She dug it out from the bottom of her backpack. A smile crept across her face when she saw Logan’s name.
“Hey there, Logan.”
“Hi, Lexie. How are you?”
“I’m good. You?”
“I’m good, too. I saw you leave earlier today, but I had a customer and couldn’t come out to say bon voyage.”
“Were you watching for me?” Lexie asked.
She heard Logan laugh.
“Maybe.”
Lexie chuckled.
“I was wondering if you would like to go to dinner tomorrow night? There’s a good band playing at The PIT.”
“Sounds good to me. Where’s The PIT?”
“It’s actually The Pawleys Island Tavern, but the locals refer to it as The PIT.”
“I would guess not fine dining?”
“Definitely not. It’s a real dive, but the burgers are great and there’s live music.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Text me your address and I’ll pick you up at 7:00.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
Lexie caught herself smiling after they said good-bye.
Just a friendly casual dinner. Nothing serious.
The minutes seemed to move in reverse. Four hours into the surveillance and nothing. Lexie packed up her camera and called it a night. After all, this case was a marathon and not a sprint.
20
Lexie woke up in an exceptionally good mood. She put on a pot of coffee and turned on the morning news. Her phone rang before she poured her first cup. The caller ID showed Don’s name.
“What’s up, buttercup?”
“You’re in a good mood,” Don said.
“I am. You’re not going to spoil it for me. Are you?”
“Nope. In fact, I have some interesting information for you.”
“Do tell.”
“I met with my contact at the airport. He told me the only seaplane that flies in and out of this area is owned by a man named Clay Connors. He’s a trust fund kid who played minor league baseball until he threw his arm out. This is where things get interesting. Turns out Connors played baseball at the University of South Carolina with Aaron Jacobson, who is the son of the CEO for GRI. I found a police report where Clay Connors and Aaron Jacobson were arrested while they were in college.”
“Now the story is getting good.”
“Oh, it gets better. Connors was driving when the campus police pulled the car over for suspected DUI. The police officer witnessed Jacobson shove something under the passenger side seat. The officer retrieved a bag of cocaine from under the seat. Both men were arrested and transported to the city jail.”
“What happened to the case?”
“Dismissed, of course. Two rich kids from influential families. It’s unclear which father paid off the authorities to make the case disappear. At the time, both young men were being scouted by Major League Baseball teams. A DUI coupled with cocaine possession would have sunk that ship.”
“So nothing happened to either one of them?”
“Nope. The charges were dropped and the two went about their business. There was no mention of the cocaine possession on the NCIC report. From the report, it looks like two young men getting into minor mischief.”
“How did you find out about the cocaine?”
“I called a buddy of mine in Columbia. He’s a retired FBI agent who heads up campus security. He put the arresting officer on the phone with me. That guy is still irate that his arrest got canned. The arresting officer said it was a trafficking quantity of cocaine.”
“Interesting.”
“See, I’m not always the bearer of bad news.”
Lexie made some notes. “So,” she said, “we have a probable drug trafficking seaplane pilot who has ties to Aaron Jacobson. The seaplane pilot lands his plane on an island adjacent to the island where Jacobson’s company wants to construct a controversial bridge. Jacobson’s company is the target of ELF terrorist actions. Does that make sense to you?”
“Not much. I think it gives credence to your drug smuggling seaplane theory. However, I don’t understand the connection, if there even is a connection, to GRI. It definitely muddies the water.”
“The plot thickens.”
***
Lexie spent the day catching up on paperwork. She cleaned up the condo and stashed her FBI laptop back in the small safe that was hidden in the back of her closet. When she was finished with her work, she went for a short jog and hopped in the shower.
What does one wear to a place called The PIT?
She selected a nice pair of white shorts, a casual off the shoulder top, and stylish sandals. She tamed her hair and applied a small amount of make-up.
Lexie was looking at the clock when the doorbell rang.
He’s punctual.
She opened the door and found Logan holding a small bouquet of white daisies and yellow roses.
“These are for you,” he said, handing the flowers to Lexie.
“Thank you, they’re beautiful. Come in and I’ll put them in water.”
Lexie scoured the kitchen looking for a vase but all she could come up with was a mason jar. She arranged the lovely flowers in the jar and smiled.
“Your place is nice.”
“Thanks. I haven’t done much with it since I’ve moved in.”
Lexie crossed and uncrossed her arms.
Logan glanced awkwardly around the condo.
“Shall we go?” he asked.
“Sure.”
Lexie grabbed her purse and locked the door on their way out.
As with their lunch date, Logan opened the door and helped Lexie up into his Jeep. The two engaged in light chit chat on the way to the restaurant. Logan turned off Hwy 17 and traversed a dirt driveway leading behind the row of shops.
“How does anyone ever find this place?”
“The locals know where it is and that’s all that matters.”
The ramshackle restaurant was nestled in the woods. Logan parked and led Lexie inside the funky eatery. The walls were papered with dollar bills with messages scribbled on each one. Lexie spotted a sign tha
t stated Home of Shrimp, Beer, and Blues.
“I love this place,” Lexie said.
“I thought you might like it. It’s a cool local hangout.”
The duo waited ten minutes for a table and were seated outside.
Lexie perused the menu while they waited for their drinks. She looked up in time to see two young women following the hostess to a table across the courtyard. Lexie let out a small gasp. She raised the menu, hiding her face.
“Are you all right?” Logan asked.
Lexie stiffened, unable to move or breathe.
“Lexie. What’s wrong?”
Get control of yourself, Lexie thought.
Despite her near panic, Lexie managed to speak.
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
Logan reached over and lowered Lexie’s menu with his hand so he could see her face.
“You don’t look fine. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“So, ahh … So what’s good here? What’re you gonna order?” she asked in a shaky voice.
Logan stared at Lexie for a moment before answering.
“I’m getting a burger.”
“That sounds good. I’m gonna get a burger, too.”
Lexie put down her menu and wiped her clammy hands on her shorts.
Maybe that wasn’t really her, she thought.
Lexie glanced over to where the hostess had seated the two women.
Savannah Riley stared across the courtyard, her eyes locked on Lexie.
Shit! She could expose me, blow my cover, and ruin the entire case!
The waitress brought the drinks to the table.
“Are you ready to order?” she asked.
Logan looked to Lexie for a response.
“I’ll ahh … I’ll have the black and blue burger with the homemade potato chips,” Lexie said.
The waitress looked at Logan.
“Bring on the psychoburger and fries.”
After the waitress left, Lexie looked at Logan and laughed.
“The psychoburger?”
“I couldn’t help myself. It called my name.”
Lexie looked over and saw Savannah watching her. She had a sickening feeling in her stomach.
“Where are the restrooms?”
“Inside and straight back. Are you all right?”
Beyond the Cabin Page 11