Dark Cay

by Douglas Pratt

  Walter glanced at Spanky, who asked, “Where is she?”

  “She’s at the Tilly. I can call her downstairs, and you guys can just drive off with her.”

  “What room?” Spanky hissed.

  “No deal,” I rebuked. “We drive back together. Intact. When we get there, I’ll call her. If you try to take her at the hotel, she’ll cause a scene. You need her alive to scare Porter, right?”

  Walter’s eyes cut to Spanky’s for guidance. The corners of his mouth turned up, and he told Walter, “I think after he loses a finger or two, he’ll be shouting her room number. What do you think?”

  A malicious grin formed on Walter’s face. He pulled my hand toward the shears as Spanky laughed out loud.

  Releasing all the resistance I had, I shoved my left hand forward, breaking Walter’s hold on my wrist. My right hand swept forward, knocking the gun away as I grabbed Walter’s hand and jerked it and the shears toward Spanky. The force ripped the shears from Walter’s grip, and I let the motion follow through, driving the pruner’s blade into Spanky’s arm. The .45 fired. The cab of the truck echoed with the blast. The smell of burned gunpowder hit my nose before I noticed the sting of the round that skimmed past my left bicep.

  Ignoring the searing pain, I drove my free hand into Walter’s face. Despite the wound in my left arm, I used the shears like a shank, stabbing Spanky repeatedly from his shoulder toward his throat. The Colt had fallen from his hand, and he grabbed at his neck.

  Walter had recovered from the initial blow. Blood was dripping from his left nostril, and he twisted toward the back. My left arm wrapped around his neck as he lunged over the back seat at me. Immediately, his hands clawed at my arm. His fingers raked across the wound on my arm. Grunting, I squeezed harder and twisted backward until a crack resounded through the cab. Walter slumped over the passenger seat.

  Spanky was gasping and holding his throat. One of my thrusts had hit an artery, and the Ranger didn’t have much time. He would lose consciousness in a couple of minutes. Maybe less. I considered a quick tourniquet to staunch off the bleeding, but even that wasn’t going to keep him alive long enough for help to come.

  The former soldier locked eyes with me, desperate for some help. Blinking, I felt no regret. He had every intention of torturing and killing me.

  My hand felt along the floor until I found the .45 on the floor, and I climbed out the left side. In the sunlight, I looked at my arm in the driver’s side mirror. The bullet did more than graze me, but it tore a hole just under the surface of the skin. Leaning against the car, I took a few seconds to breathe in and out. My adrenaline levels were red-lined, and when that high went away, I might feel the hole in my arm.

  The door was still open, and I glanced inside. Spanky’s hand was hanging limp. He had blacked out from the blood loss, and he wouldn’t wake up. Reaching in, I picked up the bloody garden shears. I wiped the door handle with my shirt, hoping to eliminate any prints I might have left behind.

  Walter drove for about 20 minutes, putting us at least 15 miles inland. There weren’t many places along the way, and even if there were, I needed to put some distance between the two Rangers and me. For a couple of seconds, I considered rifling either of the two dead men for their cell phones, but logic got the better of me. A hike would be a safer way to get home.

  The shack hadn’t seen much attention. The front was decorated with a few crude graffiti tags. The car would be found as soon as the next group of kids decided to hang out here. That could be hours or weeks.

  Either way, the quicker I was back at the Tilly, the better.

  22

  Staying about 100 feet from the road, I hiked away from the Dodge truck and the two bodies inside. Trudging through the trees kept me out of sight but slowed my pace as I weaved around the trees and standing water that South Florida is blessed with. Luckily, the mosquitoes kept me company. Who knows what might have happened if they hadn’t continued to feast on me? This alone was incentive to pick up my pace.

  Three hours later, I guessed I was at least 10-12 miles away. The next pay phone I found was another 45 minutes later at a little gas station just off the state road. Once I identified the two security cameras, it wasn’t difficult to keep my back to them as I made my call.

  The gas station I called her from had a small bathroom around the side of the building where I washed the dried blood off my arm. Before I reached the service station, I found a tractor off the side of the road that provided enough engine grease to cover up the bloodstains on my shirt. The shirt was already destined for retirement in the great hamper in the sky, but the last thing I wanted was someone to remember a guy coming into the gas station covered with blood. While I waited on Missy, I picked up a lovely maroon t-shirt with the image of a Seminole man on the banks of an alligator-laden swamp. Cheesy even for most tourist swag.

  Missy picked me up half an hour later, and I was looking forward to a cold beer and a burger.

  “Why didn’t you call the police?” Missy asked as she drove me back to the Tilly Inn.

  “It could only complicate things. Right now, it buys me a few hours, I hope.”

  “You need to go to the hospital,” she noted as she glanced at my arm.

  Shaking my head, I reiterated, “It would only complicate things. I just need to clean it up.”

  Unfortunately, Lily needed to be dealt with. She couldn’t stay at the Tilly. I didn’t know how I was going to get her out. If it wasn’t Letson, there was sure to be another F.B.I. agent watching the inn for any sign of her. Plus, Loggins’ men already suspected that she was there. It wouldn’t be hard to guess that he had men watching too, if he didn’t have someone already there. Once Walter and Spanky failed to report in, they would try another tactic. Which could have easily happened in the last three hours.

  “I have to get Lily out of the inn,” I told Missy.

  “The poor girl,” she mused. “I can’t imagine Paige being in that same situation. I’d feel better knowing that you were watching out for her, though.” Her words tried to reassure me, but I wasn’t sure I was handling any of this correctly. Perhaps, Letson was the safest place for Lily. He could put her in protective custody.

  Peterson’s assessment of Joe Loggins kept repeating in my head. Loggins was a powerful man that was owed favors by people in all aspects of bureaucracy. Maybe it wasn’t Letson, but it could be his boss.

  I could call Jay. I knew he was trustworthy. But even Jay couldn’t arrange protective custody without there being some trail. He’d help off the books, but he was still new at the Palm County Sheriff’s Department. That could be a last resort.

  Of course, I reminded myself, a last resort might be too late.

  My head twisted toward Missy. “I have an idea.”

  She looked back at me from the driver’s seat.

  “What if Paige came to visit you?” I asked. “She comes with you to work in the morning. After an hour or so, you and Paige leave.”

  Her face questioned me silently.

  I continued, “We let Lily and Paige swap clothes. They are about the same size. After that, we slip Lily out of the inn with you. Paige could spend the day at the pool or something.”

  Missy shook her head. “I’m not endangering Paige.”

  “She won’t be. Once Lily is gone, we make sure that Paige is safe and get her out of there.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “I promise, Missy, I can keep her safe.”

  “What do you do with Lily after that?”

  “You take her out of West Palm. I’ll see if I can find a place for her to stay in Orlando. She can be off the playing board.”

  Missy stared at the dotted line on the road. “Let me think about it.”

  I sighed and nodded. It was understandable. Putting Paige anywhere near something as dangerous as this was fraught with problems.

  She pulled into the driveway of the Tilly Inn and parked in her de facto parking spot. It wasn’t marked, but the rest of the empl
oyees left it empty for her.

  “Thanks for the lift,” I offered. “Do you have plans for the evening?”

  “I have to get home,” she responded. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  Missy doesn’t usually give me such a cold shoulder. Trying to involve Paige was stupid on my part. She wasn’t about to put her daughter in danger for some stranger. Shaking my head, I realized how unfair that was. Having no family bonds can sometimes skew my outlook.

  Missy backed out of the parking spot and pulled away, leaving me alone in the pale glow of the streetlights, regretting the last few minutes.

  There weren’t any suspicious cars around. With any luck, Loggins didn’t know that the two men he sent to kill me had a turn of fortune. Maybe I could get a decent night’s sleep before any more of Loggins’ men tried again.

  If Agent Letson had anyone watching me, I couldn’t find them. My eyes swept the lobby as I came into the hotel. The only possible candidate was seated off to the far side of the lobby; the man had a receding hairline and wore a salmon-colored polo shirt. He could have come off a golf course, but it was almost nine, so somehow, he felt as artificial as a Christmas tree.

  My new shirt was, without a doubt, going to be a standout.

  I slipped into one of the service doors leading to the back of the house. Prying eyes couldn’t follow me too easily in the back of the house.

  The service elevator was near the kitchen for room service to easily access the floors without disturbing the guests. It was the only elevator that hadn’t been updated since the inn was built. The caged door shut manually, and the lever on the side operated the lift and descent. When I got off, I sent the elevator back to the first floor. The ancient lift didn’t have a call button, and if the doors were left open, the car would stay on the last floor the operator visited. Sending it back down would keep the room service attendant from traipsing up every floor looking for it.

  After two knocks on the door, I stepped back and waited. The pinhole of light in the peephole went black as Lily peered through it. The deadbolt made a loud clunk as she unlocked the door.

  “Chase, where have you been?” she questioned as the door swung open.

  Pushing through, I closed and locked the door. Lily stared at my racially inappropriate shirt.

  “Long story,” I explained. “Are you doing okay?”

  She gave a short, quick nod. “Where have you been?”

  “Let’s sit down,” I started, “it’s been a long day.”

  We perched on the end of the bed. Lily held her hands together in her lap.

  “There have been several attempts by the men that took your father to find you. These men have every intention of hurting you. My guess is they want to use you to make your father do something. Like cough up the money that he stole from them.”

  “Who are they?” she asked.

  “I think they work for a very powerful man named Joe Loggins. Does that name ring a bell?”

  She shook her head.

  “Right now, the plan is to keep you safe. I don’t think I can do that here anymore. The two men that grabbed me earlier suspected that you were staying in the hotel. If I didn’t give you up, they were going to kill me and search the hotel themselves.

  The whites of her eyes grew.

  “We have to get you out of here. My boat is out of the question. They have already visited me there.”

  “What happened?” She studied me with a macabre curiosity. “The two men that grabbed you?”

  “They’re dead.” My voice was flat. “And depending on how long it takes for Loggins to hear I’m not dead and regroup is all the time we have.”

  She was biting her lip.

  “One other thing.” I took a deep breath. “I found a body in your house.”

  “Dad?” she gasped.

  Shaking my head, I responded, “No, it was a teenaged boy. I think it was J.J.”

  She exploded into tears. A moan came out of her that sent shivers up my spine. Putting my arm around her, I pulled her into my chest and let her cry. She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed, harder than I expected, as she sobbed.

  Several minutes passed as the shock washed through her. She pushed away and looked at me with tear-stained cheeks and a drippy nose. Sniffing, she asked, “Why him?”

  Lily was going to blame herself. She was the one that told J.J. about the boat. It seemed harmless. He could keep a secret.

  “They were looking for you guys,” I suggested.

  She sucked in some air.

  I continued, “It’s not your fault, Lily. These men would have gone after him whether you called him or not.”

  She shook her head violently.

  I grabbed her by the shoulders. “Listen to me, Lily. This wasn’t your fault. These men are killers. They were going to kill J.J. no matter what.”

  Her teeth ground against each other. “They’re going to kill Dad, aren’t they, Chase?”

  I nodded. “But not yet.”

  “I want to kill them,” she hissed.

  Pulling her close, I responded, “First thing we have to do is get you away from here. Once I know you are safe, I’m going to the Feds. We still have a chance to save your father.”

  Reassurances like that were risky. They meant I had to presume a lot. It made sense that as long as they were trying to get Lily, Travis must still be alive. That was the presumption. She could have been too much of a liability to leave alive too. They might just be worried about what she could know.

  None of that helped, though. A plan of action has to take some unknowns for granted. Doing otherwise would be dangerous inactivity.

  “I have a friend up near Orlando,” I explained. “I think she’ll let you stay with her. We have to get you out of the hotel first. I’m fairly certain we have an F.B.I. agent downstairs watching for you. Who knows if any of Loggins’ men are about?”

  “Why can’t we go to the F.B.I.?” she asked.

  “I don’t know that we can trust them. Loggins is apparently quite influential. I think he had the RBDF come after us. He might have friends in the federal government too.”

  “Once you go to them, won’t he know?”

  “He will.”

  “What about Dad?” she asked.

  My head dropped a little with a sigh. “I don’t know that we can save him,” I remarked with blunt efficacy.

  “You have to,” she insisted.

  “Right now, Lily, I have to keep you safe.”

  “No,” she snapped, “you have to save my father! Take the money. All of it. We can find him.”

  Putting my hand on her arm, I tried to calm her down. “I already told you that I can’t take a 14-year-old girl up against these kinds of people. I have to make sure you’re safe.”

  She folded her arms with a scowl.

  “I’ll do what I can,” I assured her, “after I get you someplace safe.”

  Three loud knocks on the door startled me.

  “Bathroom!” I ordered. “Now!”

  Lily scrambled to the bathroom and shut the door. The .45 came out from under my shirt as I moved toward the door. Grabbing the complimentary magazine provided by the South Florida Tourist Board, I covered the peephole. An astute assassin might fire a round through the hole when it darkened. At least, I’d seen that in enough movies to make sure it didn’t happen to me.

  Nothing happened.

  I moved the magazine back and forth to give them ample opportunity–still nothing.

  Feeling a little safer, I peered through the hole. Missy’s face was on the other side.

  Sighing with a little relief, I released the deadbolt and opened the door. Missy stood there with Paige by her side.

  23

  The afternoon sun filtered through the trees. Joe’s hiking boots clomping along the wooden boardwalk was the only noise, save the high-pitched chattering of the marsh wrens in the trees. Pond Cypress trees emerged from the green-filmed waters, towering overhead, and shielding the sun. C
louds of mosquitoes hovered over the water until whatever drove their instincts told them that fresh blood was nearby.

  Joe slapped his arm, smearing a juicy swath on his forearm. He had the foresight to apply the proper bug repellent, however in the swamp, that only deterred a few of the weaker mosquitoes. The heartier ones seemed to lavish in the challenge. Years of living in Florida had given Joe an immunity to the toxins. He found the bites annoying in the moment, but the itchy whelps were never a problem later.

  He carried a plastic bag under his arm. He inhaled the humid air and seemed to savor the aroma of moss and rot that hung over the stagnant water. The swamp was an odd mixture of life and death: birth and decay. Seedlings sprang up from rotting corpses of trees.

  Blake followed behind Joe with more trepidation. His palm was pushing the shuffling form of Travis Porter. Porter was hunched over, holding his arms against his stomach. Blake’s head swiveled around, eyeing the surface of the foamy green water. He could feel the eyes under the surface, watching him. The former Ranger wasn’t intimidated by any enemy. At least not the human kind. His rotations overseas had always been in the desert. A few things could hide in the sand, but not like here. He’d heard stories from others in the Army about marching through the jungles, and he was grateful he didn’t experience that. Even now, as he walked on the boardwalk, two feet above the water, he worried about what might surface.

  Joe didn’t. He loved the idea of what was under the water. He would sometimes don hip waders and carry his .3006 rifle into the swamp looking for tender juvenile gators. Caleb would skin them, and Janet would flash fry them after adding a thin coat of flour. For Joe, the thrill was the hunt. He could spot the round eyes just under the surface when all Blake saw were sticks and water. When Joe was in a good mood, he might spend time giving pointers on how to see the alligators and snakes lurking out of sight. Every time though, Blake just noted that the damned reptilian eyes were always watching him first.

  Travis tumbled forward, his right foot catching on a raised board. Blake grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back. Travis’s feet recovered, but the man still limped along.