by Tripp Ellis
A smirk tugged my lips.
"Is it safe to turn around now?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
She looked at me, her cheeks still red.
"I wouldn't want to be accused of exposing myself to a coworker."
She rolled her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't see anything.”
It was a lie.
“Where exactly do you think you're going?" she asked.
"I'm going to swing by the last known address of the perps and see what I can find."
"You're on leave, remember?"
"I'm not going in a law enforcement capacity. I'm just a citizen, out for a leisurely drive." I smiled.
She gave me a look. "Last I checked, you don't have anything to drive."
I frowned.
"Don't make me regret giving you this information."
"Please," I muttered. "What did you think I was going to do with it?"
She was silent a moment, then let out a long sigh. "Okay. We'll drive by the perp's residence. But that's it. We're just looking for probable cause."
I raised my hands innocently. "Fine by me. I'm in no condition to do anything more."
I finished getting dressed, put my 9mm in my holster and stuffed it in my waistband.
Denise lifted an eyebrow.
"You don't expect me to walk around unarmed, do you? I haven't exactly made a lot of friends."
"Why does that not surprise me?"
"Are you saying I'm unfriendly?"
"No. I'm not saying that at all. Unless you're a criminal. Then I'd consider you antagonistic."
"Isn’t that the point?"
"From what I hear, you're a good cop."
"Really? What else do you hear?"
A mischievous glint flickered in her eyes. "I hear a lot of things."
"Do tell.”
Whatever she’d heard, she wasn’t saying.
I made sure Buddy had food and water, then Denise and I stepped out of the salon and scaled the transom to the dock. I waved to Mr. Miller. He sat in the cockpit of his sailboat with his usual scowl painted on his face. I don't think I'd seen the man smile yet.
"Sheriff Daniels said I should watch out for you,” Denise said.
"And yet here you are, breaking the rules, giving me information."
"I'm clearly exercising poor judgment.”
Oh, the mistakes we could make together. Naughty thoughts flickered in my mind.
Denise drove a small, yellow SUV. It was sporty, had a comfortable leather interior, a booming sound system, and plenty of room to store groceries.
There was a mountain bike rack on the back. The SUV would never see off-road, but in the urban jungle, it would do just fine. We drove over to South Concord Avenue, which wasn't far from Dowling Street.
Not the greatest part of town.
We rolled through the neighborhood and stopped in front of our target location. There was a beat up old Corolla out front that had a quarter panel covered in bondo, and a door panel that was a different color.
The house was an older one-story, two bedroom. The lawn looked like it hadn’t been mowed in six weeks. In the driveway, there was a vehicle covered by a tarp. It looked like a motorcycle of some sort.
We rolled past the house, and I told Denise to park a few houses down.
She pulled to the curb, and I reached up and turned off the dome light so it wouldn't draw attention. My fingers pulled the door handle, and I nudged the door open.
Denise's face twisted. "What are you doing?"
"Just a little reconnaissance."
"You're not supposed to be actively involved."
"I'm not actively involved. I'm just looking."
I flashed a smile and slipped out of the car. I crept down the block, crouching low and held up just behind the Corolla.
For a moment, I forgot all about my pain.
A rush of adrenaline flowed through me. I was a predator stalking his prey. There was nothing as invigorating as being on the hunt.
A light was on in the house, and I could see the flicker of the television set. I darted to the driveway and made my way up to the tarp.
Underneath was the motorcycle I had chased earlier.
My heart beat elevated.
I had just acquired my target.
I moved to the kitchen window and peered inside. There was a pile of cash on the table. A bag of marijuana, a few pills, and a couple grams of cocaine were scattered about the cash.
If these guys were dealers, they were small time.
They were mainly into heists. Maybe they were knocking off other dealers as well as restaurants? Those who lacked connections or the wherewithal to move large shipments would often jack bigger dealers. It was a risky game, but lucrative if you could get away with it.
I ducked down as I heard someone move into the kitchen. I hovered underneath the window as they fumbled around.
I slipped back down the driveway and crept down the block like a ninja. When I was back in the passenger seat of Denise's SUV, I said, “Okay. Here's how this is going to go down…”
She gave me a hesitant look.
"You were following up on a lead,” I said. “We drove by the house, and you saw a vehicle that matched the description of the one used in the robbery on Oyster Avenue earlier today. You ran the plates, and it came back stolen. We proceeded up the driveway and looked inside the home and saw two suspects with guns, drugs, and cash. That should be enough probable cause for a warrant.”
Her jaw tensed.
“Call Sheriff Daniels. Get the SWAT team down here ASAP. Let's bust these scumbags.”
She hesitated for a moment, then decided to go along with my plan. I called JD and let him know what was about to go down.
We sat in the darkness, watching the house from her SUV until Sheriff Daniels and the tactical van arrived.
The tactical team was dressed in black with assault rifles, body armor, and helmets. They spilled out of their vehicle, ready to crack skulls.
JD arrived, wearing a bullet-proof vest, ready for action.
Daniels gave me a stern look. "You're not involved in this."
"I'll stay in the van and watch it all on the body cams,” I assured.
"I mean it. You're just an observer."
I raised my hands innocently and climbed into the van. I took a seat next to a technician. There was an array of monitors, each one showing a video feed from the small body-cams on the members of the tactical response team.
“What about me?" Denise asked.
"Keep an eye on him," Daniels said, pointing to me.
I don't think Denise was in the mood to kick down a door and raid a house. She didn't put up an argument. She climbed into the tactical van and sat beside me.
"I should have told you to bring popcorn,” I said with a grin.
22
The chaotic video feed filtered into the tactical van from multiple angles. There was a knock at the door. Someone shouted, "County Sheriff!"
A moment later the battering ram splintered the door, knocking it from the hinges.
The tac-team tossed a flash-bang grenade into the small house.
Boom!
Boom!
The bright flash and deafening bang was enough to disorient anyone.
The team stormed in through the haze, weapons in the firing position. They swept the room and had the suspects face down on the ground in no time.
They zip tied the perps and removed them from the location.
The thugs cursed the entire way. “Fuck you, pigs!"
The tac-team loaded them into a paddy wagon, and Daniels and the others searched the home and confiscated the cash and drugs.
"Go home," Daniels said to me as they wrapped up. "We got this from here. I'll let you know as soon as we find something out."
“But—“
“No buts. I don't want you anywhere near the station."
"I'll keep you posted," JD interjected.
Denise drove me back to the marina and dropped me off at Diver Down. I thanked her again, hoped out of her banana yellow SUV, and strolled down the dock.
When I got back on the Wild Tide, I decided to sample the whiskey—quality control testing. It was good stuff. After a few drinks, I didn't feel quite as sore. I'm sure it would all catch up with me in the morning.
A few hours later, JD called. "Good news bad news. What do you want first?"
"Surprise me."
"Daniels split those little punks up and threw them into an interrogation room. One of them ratted the other one out in exchange for a deal. He admitted to ripping off the Bait Shack, but didn't say anything about Franky T’s.”
"What about Thunder Rain?" I asked. "Could these guys have mugged her in the alleyway and things gone south?"
"Nope. That's a negative."
"How so?"
"Both of them were in jail during the time of Thunder's murder. Drunk and disorderly. They'd gotten into a bar fight the day before and didn't get sprung out till the day after."
My face tensed. "Are you sure?"
"Positive,” JD said. "Apparently someone didn't do their homework,” he added, pointedly.
"At least we got some bad people off the street," I said, defending myself.
I paused. ”So, we're back to square one?"
"Not even. We're at square zero."
I told JD we’d talk in the morning.
I felt deflated. It had been a shitty day. Maybe a good night’s sleep would put me in a better frame of mind?
Just as I was dozing off, my phone buzzed. "Tyson? It's Sapphire."
"Hey, what's up?"
"I'm scared. Can you come over? There's something I need to show you."
Usually when a woman called me in the wee hours with something to show me, it meant I was in for a pretty good time.
But this was no booty call.
"It's about Thunder," she added.
"I'm on my way. I'll be there in 15."
"Do you have my address?"
"Give it to me again. Hang on. Let me get a pen."
I grimaced as I crawled out of bed and fumbled for a scrap of paper and a pen. "Shoot."
She rattled off her address.
I hung up the phone and called JD. He swung by the marina, and I met him in the parking lot of Diver Down. "What's this all about?"
I shrugged. "I guess we'll find out, won't we?"
JD dropped the Porsche into gear, let out the clutch, and we launched out of the parking lot. The moon glowed high overhead, and the cool night air swirled around the car. It was a nice night for a convertible.
Sapphire must have done okay for herself. The exotic dancer had a nice two bedroom home on the beach. The structure was obscured from the street by palm trees and mangroves. A circular drive led to the front door. Since we were invited guests, JD pulled into the driveway and stopped at the entrance. The one story home was painted blue with white accents.
I climbed out of the car and strolled to the front door, but I didn't bother knocking. My hand grabbed my pistol and snatched it from its holster.
The door was ajar.
It had been kicked open, and the door frame was splintered.
I pushed open the door and moved into the foyer with my weapon in the firing position. I cleared the corners and called out, “Sapphire?"
JD followed behind me.
We slipped into the living room. Large windows offered a nice view of the beach, though it was too dark to see. There was a small back patio that was lit up with floodlights. I could barely make out the whitecaps cresting in the distance.
The home and been ransacked. Furniture turned upside down. Paintings pulled off the walls. Drawers emptied. Cabinet doors opened.
“Sapphire?" I yelled again.
A cat brushed up my against my leg and meowed.
My eyes glanced down to the white fluffy thing. Its fur was speckled with blood.
I exchanged a grim look with JD.
The kitchen was off to the right, and there was a small dining area. Beyond that was another bedroom. To the left, a hallway led down to the master. Along the way was a utility room with a washer and dryer.
JD took the right side of the home, and I sneaked to the left. I crept down the corridor toward the master bedroom. Nothing in the house had been left undisturbed. It was clear somebody was after something.
A nameless dread twisted in my stomach as I approached the master. I pushed open the door and swept the barrel of my gun across the room, clearing the area.
Sapphire lay face down on the bed in a pool of blood.
The silk sheets beneath her were soaked in crimson.
I moved to the bathroom and cleared the area, including the shower stall. Then I checked the closet. This girl had a lot of shoes. There were at least 100 pair of stiletto heels in all shapes and colors. Lots of miniskirts, leopard-print lingerie, and lacy garments.
I moved back to the bed and checked Sapphire for a pulse.
She didn't have one.
The color had drained from her face and lips.
My jaw clenched in anger.
The bedroom was equally demolished. The dresser drawers had been pulled open, and panties and frilly garments tossed about the floor.
I pushed back into the living room and rejoined JD.
I shook my head with a frown. "She's dead."
JD's wasn't surprised.
"Two bullets to the back of the head. Professional hit.”
"What do you think they were looking for?"
I shrugged. “She wanted me to see something. I'm guessing it was information on Thunder's killer. Information that somebody didn't want getting out.”
The fluffy white cat brushed against my leg again, moving in a figure 8 around my calf. It meowed a few times, clearly upset.
The poor kitty had probably seen the entire thing.
I knelt down and scooped up the feline.
"I think you just inherited a cat," JD said.
“Uh uh, no way!”
“You can't just leave it here," JD said with a sly grin on his face. "The poor thing will die without anyone to care for it."
"I am not taking in this cat."
"So you're just going to let it die?" JD relished giving me grief.
"No. The county has a system to foster stray animals."
"I think you just inherited it a cat."
“Shut up."
We called Sheriff Daniels, and he arrived with the forensics team, and the medical examiner. A scowl twisted on his stern face. "What the hell are you two doing here?"
"A friend called, asked me to come over," I said.
"A friend?" he said in a skeptical tone.
"I have lots of friends."
"Friends with a connection to the murdered exotic dancer?" Daniels retorted. "What part of administrative leave do you not understand?"
"Hey, if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have busted those perps that were knocking off restaurants," I defended.
Daniels frowned. ”Any insight as to why this young girl was murdered?"
"I think she knew something,” I said. “I think she was silenced."
“And you think this has to do with Thunder Rain?”
"I guarantee it."
Daniels was silent for a long moment. "Alright. I need an official statement from you two. Let the forensics team know exactly where you went in the house and what you did."
"Roger that," I said.
"And do me a favor. After this, take a vacation. Go somewhere else. Get out of my hair for a little while. Let all this blow over."
"Sure thing," I said, knowing full well I had no intention of letting this go. I was going to solve Thunder Rain's murder, come hell or high water. And judging by the weather forecast, we were in for a lot of high water.
23
"I'm not keeping the cat," I said, adamantly.
JD eyed me with a healthy dose of skepticism as I climbed into his car with fluffy in my la
p.
The feline had a high-tech collar around her neck with her name, GPS tracking, medical information, and God knows what else. It could be accessed via Bluetooth.
I had grabbed a couple of cans of cat food from Sapphire’s cabinet. I took a bag of kitty litter and had put it in the trunk. JD wouldn't let the cat box anywhere near his Porsche.
JD cranked up the flat six, dropped the car in gear, and eased out of the driveway.
"Not keeping her, eh?”
"It's just temporary. I'll take her to the Coconut Key Animal Shelter tomorrow. Fluffy will find a nice foster home, I'm sure. In the meantime, stop by the 24 hour grocery mart so I can get a litter box."
JD rolled his eyes and shook his head.
We stopped at the store, then he dropped me off at the marina and helped me carry the cat litter and the box to the boat. I had my hands full with fluffy. She tried to escape on more than one occasion. And let me tell you, those claws are sharp.
We boarded the Wild Tide and pushed into the salon. I set fluffy down on the deck, and Buddy launched up the stairs with his ears perked up. The instant he saw Fluffy, the chase was on.
He sprinted across the deck, his paws clattering against the teak wood.
Fluffy screeched and took off.
The patter of little feet filled the boat as they chased each other endlessly in circles around the salon, up and down the starboard stairs, through the guest quarters, and through all the nooks and crannies of the ship.
JD had a look on his face that brimmed with a snide comment, but he bit his tongue. "This is all you. Have fun tonight.”
He stepped out of the salon and shut the hatch behind him.
I filled the litter box and put it in one of the guests compartments, then opened a can of cat food and set it on the floor in the galley.
Fluffy and Buddy eventually wore themselves out.
Buddy climbed onto the settee and lounged while Fluffy strutted away with her tail in the air. She started nibbling at her food.
Fluffy wasn’t going to like it, but she needed a bath to wash the blood from her fur.
I grabbed Buddy's leash and took him for a walk before bed. Afterward, I crawled into my bunk for some much needed rest. Buddy lay by my side and the boat gently rocked.
I was out like a light.
By the morning, I was unbelievably stiff and sore. It hurt like hell to get out of bed. I hobbled for the first few steps and staggered into the en suite.