The Indigo Brothers Trilogy Boxed Set

by Vickie McKeehan

  He showed her an image he’d captured on his cell phone. He’d learned through the years that a visual always made the story so much better. “We found him near Sugarloaf Key, passed out on his bunk with a hangover, stinking to high heaven of booze and BO.” He went through Hugo’s story, trying not to leave anything out.

  “Bless his heart,” Anniston said, eyeing the photo Garret had taken of a down and out man. “He looks like a homeless person. You’re saying this is the guy who holds the key to this entire thing.”

  “That remains to be seen. We had to sober him up to get him to talk, get some food in him, and now we have to keep him somewhere Dietrich doesn’t know about. Who knows how long Hugo will be happy staying on The Rum? My guess is not for long.”

  He dug in his bag and pulled out a cup in a plastic baggie that he’d taken from the boat. “I want you to check this for fingerprints.”

  “Sure, I can send this through the system. But if his father was involved in Nazi activities, I doubt Reiner is his birth name anyway. The same holds true for Dietrich. If Reiner’s father got these guys to Argentina the way Hugo says, they started life over with completely new identities. It’s historically amazing to me that Reiner’s father made all those trips back and forth to South America carrying SS officers but his sub ends up going down right off the Florida Keys.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. Why was this sub so close to the US coastline? There’s a story there somewhere.”

  “No doubt a fascinating one. You know you can’t let anyone in town know Hugo’s here.”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying. But this is a small island. Things have a way of getting out whether you want them to or not.”

  “I know the perfect place.”

  “Really? Where?” He eyed her with open curiosity. “How would you know a place where Hugo could bunk? You aren’t even from here.”

  “But I think outside the box, which means I’m creative. Raine tells me her family owns a little house on Ramrod Key. Hugo could stay there.”

  “Not by himself. This guy needs a keeper. Otherwise he’ll just try to take off, get back to his boat. This guy’s a piece of work, he’s uncooperative one minute and plays people the next. He’s fine for now on The Rum. But at some point, we’ll have to think of something more permanent.”

  Done talking about it, he wrangled off his shoes, yanked his T-shirt up over his head and moved toward the bathroom while shedding his jeans. “I need a shower in a regular size tub.”

  She laughed and started to turn the other way, but he snatched her hand. “You look like you’re ready to get wet.”

  She lifted a brow. “There are benefits to having been away from each other for three days.”

  “I’ll say. Which is why we should lock ourselves in this room and not come out until tomorrow morning.”

  “We do need a break from everything. It’d be nice to spend one day together without any disruptions or distractions.”

  “And no talking about murder. Murder’s off limits.” He reached over and turned on the water, let it get hot before crossing to her and sliding off the lavender-colored robe she wore. He kissed a bare shoulder, brought his lips to each corner of her mouth. He toyed with her tongue as he splayed his fingers along the small of her back, where he knew she liked to be touched. He deepened the kiss, then lifted her up and over the rim of the tub and into the rising steam.

  Anniston wrapped around him like a vine as he lapped the water off the curve of her breast. She let him trail his tongue up to her neck. That primal need was already in charge. She soaped his chest and belly and ran her hands along his butt. He washed her like she did him, exploring slick skin and enjoying wet flesh.

  Their appetite for each other had to be sated.

  Soft curves met hard abs. As the water sprayed over them, he leaned her back against the tile and took. The joining was just the beginning. A ravenous hunger ripped through them. There was no time to savor. They rushed to feast, to fill the craving, matching each other greed for greed. The climax came with a burst of magic and awe.

  He rested his brow on hers. “I think you did miss me.”

  She ran her hands through his wet hair, then jerked his head back and kissed his mouth. “I thought you’d never get back. I’m not usually so impatient.”

  “Lucky for me that you were.”

  “You want breakfast?”

  “Maybe later,” he said as he dried off with one towel, handed her the other. He walked out of the bathroom naked, crossed to the bed, and dropped onto the sheets. “I have to have some sleep. We took turns all night keeping an eye on Hugo.”

  She crawled in beside him, jerked the covers around them and snuggled into his side. But he was already asleep before she could throw her arms around him.

  When he woke three hours later, he ordered breakfast from room service.

  They lounged in bed over blueberry pancakes. When they got hungry again, they called Lee Fong’s Palace and had the order delivered.

  Garret finally got dressed at seven-thirty that evening to open the door for the delivery guy.

  Over twice-cooked pork, Anniston was the first one to bring up murder. “Dack’s funeral was yesterday, back in Miami. I saw Shonna there. You remember Dack’s girlfriend, right?”

  “I’m sorry you had to go there alone.”

  She smiled. “I didn’t. I talked Raine and Tessa into coming with me. And then there was Sebastian. He even brought Dominka. What’s with her anyway? She doesn’t seem inclined to leave.”

  Garret chuckled. “Dominka is a woman who sets her sights on something and usually gets it. That little girl from a coal-mining town grew up to be a force.”

  “Is that what she did with you?”

  Sensing an irreversible relationship error that might shatter the mood, he decided to beat a tactical retreat and changed the subject. “How’d it go at the funeral?”

  “Like you’d expect. Dack’s mother, Kate, is grief-stricken. Chuck is devastated. And Shonna is inconsolable. I think they appreciated all of us coming. When we got ready to leave, his family offered to do anything to help us catch the people responsible.”

  During the meal, Garret had noticed she seemed preoccupied. “What else is wrong?”

  “There’s something I should probably tell you.”

  He picked up his glass of wine and leaned back in his chair. “Okay.”

  “Royce agreed to let Sebastian wire the guest cottage.” She held up a hand. “There’s more. He told me where Dietrich’s been staying.”

  “Why did he do that? Don’t tell me it’s out of the goodness of his heart.”

  “Look, Garret, I made a judgment call. My belief is that Royce has nothing to do with this cockamamie gold scheme. I told him about Baskin.”

  “You did what?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He ran both hands through his hair. “Oh, my God. You didn’t? You can’t trust Royce Buchanan. Don’t you know that by now?”

  “I think your judgment about him might be severely clouded.”

  His temper flared like a rocket. “Oh really? So, because you’ve known him for a few weeks, you’re dismissing my opinion of a man I’ve known for most of my life? I’ve watched that money-hungry developer do some downright despicable things to get what he wants. And you want me to discount what I’ve seen with my own eyes because you formed this immediate bond with him? I don’t think so.”

  “Did you ever consider your father might have overblown this bad-guy image?”

  “Are you nuts? This has nothing to do with my dad’s point of view. I know all I need to know about Royce.”

  “For your information, I took Tessa and Raine with me, and they both agreed Royce’s grief is genuine.”

  “I see. So Tessa’s known Royce for what, three weeks now? And Raine is scared to death of the guy. Always has been. So yeah, that really proves he’s free and clear in all this. That’s bullshit.”

  “Then why is he willing to help us g
et Baskin?”

  “Maybe he gave you the illusion of helping us? Did you consider that? I think since you and Sebastian decided to give us up as clients, you’ve basically been acting on your own behalf.”

  “That’s not fair. I didn’t tell Royce about Willis Hartman.”

  “Who the hell is Willis Hartman?”

  She went into how Raine had made the discovery and perhaps found a link to the pastor. “Dandridge and Hartman might be one and the same guy. So as you can see, I held certain things back from Royce, too. I didn’t disclose everything.”

  “And that makes it somehow okay? I don’t think so. You’re going to Royce spilling what I wanted to keep secret pretty much tells me you plan to do what you want in this, regardless of what I think. You seem to forget that my dad butted heads with that man for decades. Why? Because Royce Buchanan is a shark. I go out of town and boom, you decide on your own to trust him. Think about it, Anniston. You’re trusting a guy who didn’t even show emotion for his own grandchildren. If that’s what you consider a decent human being, then we have nothing left to discuss.”

  With that, Garret grabbed his gear and walked out, slamming the door behind him so hard it rattled the windows.

  Outside, Garret wasn’t sure where to head first, the boat or to his parents’ house. He decided to veer off down Waterfront Street and found himself standing in front of what used to be his Nana’s house. The beachfront bungalow now belonged to Jackson, who didn’t seem the slightest bit inclined to resume his life in the big city.

  He was glad to see the two had kept the flowerbeds popping with wildflowers. When he thought of his Nana, Garret always remembered an acre of blossoms. He studied the seashell-white cottage with its red trim and the red-tiled roof, and fondly recalled spending his time here. He recalled the many times his Nana wore her big, huge hat that protected her face from the sun while she worked for hours in her garden.

  Garret sent Jackson a text message before knocking on the door. He didn’t want to intrude on an intimate moment if the couple were thus occupied.

  Standing out front. You busy?

  Nope. Come on in. Mitch is here.

  Five seconds later, the front door opened.

  Mitch noted the bag on his shoulder. That didn’t bode well for a happy homecoming after three days at sea. “What happened?”

  Garret dropped his bag at the door and glanced toward Tessa. “I’ll tell you what happened. While we were gone Anniston told Royce everything. She decided to take him into her confidence without so much as asking me first. She unloaded our entire theory on him and believes that he’s totally trustworthy.”

  Tessa licked her lips and cut her eyes toward Jackson. “I’d planned to tell you about that.”

  “You knew?” Jackson stared at her.

  Tessa went on, “We went to Royce’s office. He has some kind of heart condition. He almost passed out right in front of us. Anniston made a judgment call. Raine and I support it. We don’t think Royce knew anything about Walker’s gold scheme. She even got Royce to agree to let Sebastian bug the guesthouse. He offered to do more.” When the trio of men didn’t look convinced, she added, “I guess you just had to be there and see it play out.”

  Garret sent her a disheartened look. “That’s not the point. I don’t care about you visiting Royce at his office or getting information out of him. What bothers me is Anniston took this tack knowing we didn’t fully trust Royce. Do I know for certain that he’s involved? No, I don’t. But I can look back at all the dirty deals Royce has put together over the years and voice my concerns based on his lousy track record.”

  “I agree,” Jackson said. He stuck his hands in his pockets and turned to look at Tessa. “There was a time you didn’t trust Royce either.”

  “That’s true. But it was mostly based on things you said about him.”

  “What about your taking pictures of all those cars in his driveway? You didn’t trust him that night. Hell, you didn’t even trust me,” Jackson accused.

  “Again, true. But the thing is I went out there to his office very skeptical. Just ask Anniston and Raine. But by the time I left I was convinced Anniston had made the right call. It’s as simple as that.”

  “It’s not,” Mitch said quietly. “Take this thing with Hugo. There’s something off about him. I can’t put my finger on it exactly, but that feeling is called a gut instinct. And I don’t take it lightly. I won’t fully put all my eggs in Hugo’s basket until I vet the situation more. The same thing can be said for Royce. Both these guys haven’t put all their cards on the table. And until they do…I won’t put everything we’ve worked so hard on at risk. If you lined up five people in town and forced me to pick the man I least trust, I’d pick Royce Buchanan every time. It’s just the way it is.”

  “There you go,” Garret said. “I don’t know what role, if any, Royce played. But I’ve yet to feel that I have complete faith in him. It’s the same thing I felt with Walker. He wasn’t a man who gave off a good vibe when it came to trust. Not for any of us.”

  Tessa bit her lip. It was time to remind the men that she had a lot at stake, too. “I understand. If I find out Royce had anything to do with Ryan’s death, I’ll be the first one to react.” She stepped to Jackson, rubbed his back. “I’m sorry you’re upset. But it’s a different gut reaction for me.”

  Jackson took her hand, looked at his brothers. “How do I change someone’s mind who doesn’t have thirty years of knowing the bad guy in town?”

  “I don’t know. But Anniston said my judgment was clouded because of Dad. My mistrust isn’t based on Dad. Not this time.” Garret took a step toward the door. “Look, I didn’t mean to cause problems here. I should probably go.”

  Mitch stopped him. “We were just about to open up this chest I took from Hugo. You should stay for that.”

  But popping open the little trunk only added to the list of questions.

  “I don’t see any ID cards, passports or photographs in here. This looks like nothing more than mementos from his mother.” Which prompted Garret to ask, “Where’s the leather-bound diary we thought was a Bible?”

  “Before we reached port, it was in Mom’s dining room hutch. Now it’s locked up in a very secure place.” Mitch went on, “The diary is written entirely in German, so we’ll need to hire a translator to crack what’s written in it.”

  But Jackson began to see another disturbing pattern. “If Hugo doesn’t actually have the documents in his possession, then where are they? We didn’t find them in the house or in Walker’s safe.” He began to mutter out loud. “If Walker had the diary, then chances are he had the ID cards that Dietrich doesn’t want anyone to find out about, enough to kill whoever’s got them squirreled away.”

  “Motive,” Garret muttered. “We finally have a motive. They were murdered to protect the world from finding out Dietrich’s father was a fucking Nazi.” He got up to roam the room. “So where are these precious documents? Would Walker have given them to Royce for safekeeping? Did Walker and Livvy have a safe deposit box at the bank?” He turned to Jackson. “Your banker friend disappears, could he have drilled into their safe deposit box?”

  Jackson threw his hands up. “How would we know that for certain? How could we prove what was in there unless we find the bastard.”

  Mitch tossed out another worrisome piece of the puzzle. “There’s another angle to this, guys. Hugo must’ve known the documents weren’t in the trunk. He snookered us.”

  “Which makes me wonder what else he’s bullshitting about,” Jackson said, looking straight at Tessa. “We don’t trust Hugo until we know with certainty he’s on the level. It sounds like he’s more of a con artist than we thought. Agreed?”

  “Absolutely. I think it’s time we hit the Vitamin Hut. If the documents aren’t there, then we’re looking for another needle in a haystack.”

  For three hours they searched the supplement shop, going through inventory, ripping through shelves, rifling in drawers, looking unde
r the counter for a secret safe, and generally tearing the place upside down. Near midnight, they gave up.

  “I gotta get some sleep, guys,” Mitch admitted. “Walsh has been placating Hugo all day. But come tomorrow morning, we’ll have to confront him about what we didn’t find in the trunk. For that scene, I’ll need to be at the top of my game because this old guy is crafty, more so than he looks.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five - Heat

  The next day, Garret joined his brothers on the boat. He’d dragged himself out of bed to sit in front of the lying sack of shit that called himself Hugo Reiner. In the galley, they all gathered around watching the old sailor drink coffee and eat his breakfast.

  “Did you sleep well, Mr. Reiner?” Mitch began. “Yesterday, we thought we’d give you some time to recharge. We hope it worked.”

  “Ja, it worked fine.”

  “Good. So maybe now you’ll cut the bullshit and tell us why there was nothing in the trunk like you described, no passports, no damaging Nazi ID cards, certainly nothing of any real value pointing to gold bullion.”

  “Schmutzig schwein! That pig Walker stole my stuff!”

  “Now, see,” Garret started. “The filthy pig thing won’t work. You knew two days ago that there were no papers in your cache, which means you lied to us.”

  Hugo’s affable mood changed. “You can’t keep me here against my will.”

  “So, you’re in Dietrich’s backyard but you’re no longer afraid of him? Interesting. How about I let you wander around on the dock and see if you’ll last an hour? What about that?”

  “I’m an old man, more valuable to Dietrich alive than dead until he gets his hands on those papers. Then sadly, I have outlived my usefulness to anyone, even you.”

  Mitch narrowed his eyes at the old man. “So let me get this straight. Walker stole the documents from you. Then he tried to blackmail Dietrich with them because the papers are that damaging. He doesn’t want the world knowing that he started his company with money taken from the Nazis. You say Walker looked past the danger dealing with Dietrich all because Walker needed a backer?”