“Then you need to make certain they understand to back off,” Sandoval said.
“Don’t worry. I’ll put a stop to that.”
“Dietrich’s the one who brought Hollister on board,” Sandoval pointed out.
“So what? No one takes a prisoner off this boat without paying a penalty for that kind of arrogance. We have a score to settle.”
Duarte’s next call went to the mayor back on Indigo Key.
“What the hell are you doing calling me this time of night?” Oakerson grumbled.
“You want a piece of the pie, Mr. Mayor, you’ll carry your load.”
“Yeah, well, Dietrich’s gone MIA. Baskin keeps pestering me, wanting to know if you have any idea where Dietrich is. Apparently he hasn’t been at his house for days.”
Duarte was no longer interested in Dietrich. “Don’t know. Don’t care. Dietrich goes off like this sometimes. Just bring me what I need for leverage.”
“Yes, well, it’s not that easy. Boone is starting to get antsy, mainly because he and Roger have both been under surveillance.”
He was in no mood for excuses. “You have your problems, I have mine. I don’t care who does the job, but it has to be tonight. Make it happen. I don’t care how you do it. Just get me that bargaining chip we talked about earlier and get it fast. But make sure it stays alive and unhurt. It does me no good to strike a deal if it’s dead or damaged. Do you understand me? Don’t make another stupid mistake like you did with the others.”
“Hey, that wasn’t me. I had nothing to do with what happened with the Buchanans. But don’t worry, if Baskin and Dandridge can’t slip out, I’ll get Sinclair to do it.”
“Try not to get caught. I’m depending on you to do this one thing.”
“No problem. I know what I’m doing.”
Duarte doubted that. But since he was nowhere near Indigo Key, he had no choice but to rely on Dietrich’s inner circle.
“Why are we doing this again?” Oakerson asked.
Duarte rolled his eyes at the bumbling idiots Dietrich had taken into his confidence. “If you want the gold it’s time to make a statement. In order to do that we have to let the men on The Black Rum know they can’t stick their noses into our business. Now get on the phone to your buddies. Tonight. It has to be done tonight.”
After hanging up, Duarte sat back, poured himself another drink. He hoped Oakerson wouldn’t chicken out and let him down. If the deed was done right, then all he had to do was wait and get ready for a game of brinkmanship with Mitch Indigo.
Chapter Two - Justice
Inside The Blue Taco, Raine Manning had spent the past several days trying to stay busy. It wasn’t a difficult thing to do at work. Running a restaurant seven days a week came with responsibilities. To say she wore many hats was an understatement. If the cook didn’t show up, she manned the grill. If the order taker called in sick, she stepped up to the counter. She bussed tables, morphed into dishwasher, scrubbing pots and pans. It was her job to see to it that customers stayed happy with the food, drink, and atmosphere. It usually kept her hopping from ten in the morning to six at night. If things smoothed out, she took Wednesdays off.
That’s why she was so grateful for the newest addition to her staff, the redheaded Tessa Connelly. Tessa worked like a fiend five days a week. For a former blogger who’d created DIY projects and passed them along to her blog followers, Tessa had been a surprise. Raine had been pleased that Tessa put everything she had into learning how to use the cash register, familiarizing herself with the menu, even the specialty items that only the locals were known to order.
Over the past few weeks, the two women had become fast friends, united during a time after Tessa came to town to find out what had happened to her brother, Ryan. They’d become part of that bigger team, that joint effort with the Indigos to find a killer. Six murders in a place this small meant there was a dirty side to Indigo Key that had to be stopped.
For amateurs, it was a daunting task. Even though she hadn’t heard from Mitch in almost forty-eight hours, Raine was happy to do her part. The problem was Jackson hadn’t called Tessa either. She wasn’t sure what that meant. Were the brothers in trouble? Should she start to worry about all of them?
After her shift ended and she made sure her assistant manager, Charlotte, had everything under control, Raine left the restaurant and took the scenic route home. She needed a walk on the beach and access to fresh air.
She breathed in the October breeze, warm and humid, as temperatures still hovered in the seventies. But at least out here the air didn’t carry the smell of grease that tended to stick to the four walls, and no deep-fried splatter from the kitchen.
As she strolled along the sand, she watched the sun drop over the water, content to be outside. She took her time perusing the beach for sea glass—those shiny little gems that littered the shoreline like bursts of wildflowers in a meadow.
She carried a small yellow pail with a handle she’d had for as long as she could remember. Left over from childhood, it was scuffed with scratches and dents from years of wear and tear. She remembered how it had started out holding chocolate Easter rabbits, jelly beans, and assorted candy eggs, a present from her older brother, Danny. She kept the metal bucket at the taco stand as a reminder to end her workday doing something frivolous, something Danny would’ve encouraged.
These days hunting for sea glass was about as frivolous as Raine got. It amazed her that the beer and wine bottles people dumped into the bay came back to her in glazed petals of green or brown or clear glass. Those colors might’ve been the most common, but to Raine they held the prettiest angles and curves. Not bad for a piece of glass that took years to weather, for the sea to scar, to beat up with the grit and sand and salt until its surface was frosted and smooth.
If she was lucky she might stumble across rarer colorsred or blue or amber or the antique black from Jamaicapolished and worn from centuries of effort.
She liked to make up stories about where the shard started out. How far had it traveled before ending up a bauble on her beach? Had it been dropped into the sea by a crossing duke or duchess, drunk on making a new life in another part of the world?
Her imagination made the hunt almost like an adventure, something she sorely lacked in real life. Adventures were for other people. She’d learned that a long time ago. Sad to say, Atlanta was the farthest she’d ever traveled. And that hadn’t been until two years ago when she’d taken a week off. Instead of going to some tropical destination like any sane person her age would’ve done, she’d opted to see the energy and vitality of a lively city, a spot where she could tour the botanical gardens and stroll through a real arts district complete with galleries and museums.
She scanned the shore for anything that glistened, stopping to admire a brown starfish with bright orange bumps. She almost danced in place when she picked up a thin, palest of green glass shard the size of a nickel. She held it up to the light, prizing the translucent hue like a diamond. There were other little bits of clear glass that she dropped into her bucket.
Over the years, she’d found scads of the stuff littered along the strand, filled so many jars with the castoff jewels that she’d had to come up with new ways to showcase it all.
Several years back, she’d started making jewelry from her collection, putting together the different shapes in a pattern that made for striking earrings, necklaces, and bracelets. For her, the little jewels came to life in a beachy theme. It was an outlet she’d come to enjoy. She’d even sold a few pieces to friends.
There were always opportunities for the sea to give up its little treasures, she thought now. It occurred to her that while Mitch had sailed the world looking for a fortune in exotic places, she’d settled for bits of glass less than a mile from where she’d grown up.
Raine hadn’t quite filled up her little tub when the light started to fade. She hustled toward the houseboat she called home. Its eclectic paint job was done in turquoise and splashed wit
h bright blue trim. She’d packed the sundeck with planters that overflowed in red, white, and blue buds.
Using her key, she unlocked the front door, crossed through the living room to the kitchen. It was small but tidy, the counters filled with state-of-the-art appliances. She set down the bucket in the sink, dumped in dish soap and ran warm water to wash off the dirt and sand.
After rinsing off the beach glass, she got out vegetablescarrots, leeks, potatoes, sprigs of rosemary and thyme, and fresh green beansto throw together a soup. With the skill of an executive chef, she diced and chopped her way to a stew, tossing it all into a pot of chicken stock to simmer.
Cornbread sounded good, so she mixed up a batch, shoved it in the oven to bake. It took her five minutes to boil water for a pitcher of peach tea, something she craved on a warm evening like tonight. When she was satisfied that supper would be ready within the hour, she wandered off to the bathroom for a hot shower.
She shed her jeans and top that reeked with an all-day flood of grease and overbearing spices that seemed to stick to everything she owned. One-handed, she turned on the water.
Stepping into the spray, Raine scrubbed as she always did with her best fragrant shampooa minty apple combination that took the odor out of her hair.
Feeling better and cleaner, she put on a pair of greenish yellow shorts and a midnight-blue button-down blouse and started a load of laundry.
By this time the aroma from the kitchen had her stomach rumbling. The idea of veggie soup and cornbread browned to a golden, crispy top had her rushing to dish up supper.
She still hadn’t heard a word from Mitch. As she ate, she thought about calling Lenore for an update. But then what if all she did was launch Lenore into a state of worry? That wouldn’t do.
In lieu of that, she sent Tessa—who was on duty at the restaurant through the late shift—a text message. Any word from Jackson?
It took ten minutes before she got a reply. Not yet. I left several messages for him. Something big must be happening. I hope they’re all okay. I’m beginning to worry.
Don’t do that. I’m sure they’re fine. Maybe the satellite phone went down.
Or maybe something bad happened when they tried to grab Nathan.
Have you talked to Anniston?
Texted her, too. No word.
Then they must all be super busy. Let me know when you hear from Jackson.
Will do.
Raine let out her own worried sound. She no longer felt quite so left out. It was clear Mitch had a lot on his plate and was in the midst of dealing with...something.
She shook off her concern and cleaned up her mess in the kitchen, putting away the leftovers and doing dishes. With time to kill, she decided she was too fidgety to watch TV.
To stay busy, spring cleaning would have to come early. She dug through her bedroom closet, spending hours purging old junk from the bottom. She got rid of old jeans and tops, reducing the number of hangers and creating more room in her cubbyhole of a closet. She tossed out shoes she hadn’t worn since tropical storm Isaac pummeled the area with high winds and rain. She even threw out purses she hadn’t carried since high school.
On a roll to rid herself of the hoarder she’d become, she organized the stuff she intended to give away to Goodwill into boxes and tossed the rest into plastic trash sacks.
It was well after midnight when she gathered up the bags and headed outside to the nearby dumpster located twenty yards down the wharf.
Stepping out the front door, she was met by a cool, damp fog. The light breeze off the water rushed past her face and lifted her short tufts of blond hair.
After being cooped up inside all evening, the wind felt good as she walked toward the brick enclosure that hid the large metal waste receptacle. The lid was closed to keep the seagulls from foraging for food, so she set down her sacks of junk to open the top.
Standing on tiptoes, she was about to hurl the stuff over the rim and into the trashcan when she got the eerie sense someone was standing behind her. Before she could do anything, a masculine hand clamped over her mouth. She felt a sting on the right side of her neck. As she turned her head, the last thing she remembered was the dumpster lid slamming shut.
And then, nothing.
Less than five hundred yards away from Raine’s houseboat, two brothers named Roberto and José were hard at work inside the waterfront warehouse Dietrich had rented for the island’s base of operations. The two men had been loading and sorting through supplies all evening, getting the next shipment ready to go out to the Patagonia Pike by morning, when the phone rang on the metal desk.
Since Roberto was nearest, he picked up the receiver. On the other end of the line was the mayor, going over a litany of instructions for the next run.
Roberto’s face showed an intensity as he listened to the man nitpick his way around the directives. “Yeah. Sure. Yep. I got it. Don’t worry, Mr. Mayor,” Roberto vowed, nodding at every other word before hanging up. He went over to a cabinet where a whiteboard was enclosed behind the double doors along with a series of maps. He swung open the flaps hiding the contents and studied the chart for several long minutes before waving José over. He pointed to an area on the map, circled it with his finger. “The next run’s been moved up to tonight. This is where Duarte will be waiting for us.”
“Wait. We have to go out on the water at night? You know I don’t like that.”
Roberto grimaced. “Doesn’t matter what you like. We have some additional cargo that has to go out within the next few hours at all costs. The boss is paying double.”
José blew out a sigh. “If jobs were easier to come by, I wouldn’t be working for that prick Dietrich in the first place, I can tell you that much.”
Roberto leveled a finger at his brother. “Quit your bitching. Listen to yourself. It pays the bills.”
“Yeah, but I don’t like the guy. I’m not even sure I like the chief of police or the mayor or those other jerkwads. And going out at night…? I guess we’re using what worked for us in Tobago, right?”
“Why not? We need to have everything ready to go in twenty minutes. The extra payload is inbound as we speak, and should be here shortly,” Roberto claimed. “All we have to do is get it to the ship by morning…intact.”
A few minutes later, a police-issued SUV pulled up to the dockside parking lot and honked the horn. The driver waited with the engine still running while José hit the button to raise the massive cargo doors. José watched as a black cruiser rolled into the loading area.
Roberto was surprised to see the chief of police himself crawling out of the vehicle. Jessup Sinclair adjusted his gun holster, the one holding his 9mm, before skirting around to the rear of the car.
The chief opened the door and pointed inside. “Had to wait damn near all night for her to come out of the house. Thought I’d have to go in and drag her out myself until, lucky me, she finally made a midnight run to the trash.”
Roberto stared at the cute blonde, stretched out on the width of the carpet in the back. “Did you give her a dose large enough to keep her out until we make it to the ship? Because I don’t want to deal with a hysterical female along the way.”
“I’m not a fucking amateur,” Sinclair barked. “I’ve done this a few times before tonight. I guarantee I pumped her with enough Ketamine to immobilize her for the next twelve hours or so.”
“Oh, man, yeah,” José said in agreement. “Is that what Dexter used on TV?”
Sinclair cut him a lethal glare. “Don’t be an idiot. Twelve hours should allow plenty of time for you two bozos to get your asses in gear and get the job done. Now do I dare leave her in the capable hands of you two clowns, or what?”
Insulted, Roberto promised, “We’ll get her there. You can trust me on that.”
Sinclair studied the younger man. “Son, I don’t even trust my own deputies. Right now, the only thing you can do for me is to help me get this bitch out of my squad car. See that bench over there? You and yo
ur brother park her over there until you get the boat loaded.”
“You’re leaving?” Roberto asked.
“Damn straight I am. And son? Don’t try any funny business with her. Duarte wants her unharmed. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
José stepped forward. “Could you tell Oakerson we want our bonuses?”
“Tell him yourself,” Sinclair grumbled as he got behind the wheel of his cruiser and started the engine. He threw the car in gear and thumbed a hand behind him. “Open the bay door and let me out of this joint. It’s way past my bedtime.”
Once the cop had gone, José turned to his brother. “You know who that is he kidnapped, don’t you? It’s the woman who owns The Blue Taco.”
“Yeah, I know. But what do we do about it now? She’s already here.”
“We just keep getting into these people deeper and deeper. Anyone finds out what we’re doing, we’re sure to get jail time for this.”
“Shut up!” Roberto sneered, running his jittery hands through his hair. “That’s not what I need to hear right now, okay? Let’s just bind her hands behind her back and make sure she’s secured before transporting her to the supply boat. We still have to get everything else loaded up. Just make sure she’s still breathing and hasn’t died on us.”
“That’d be our luck, wouldn’t it?” José groused, leaning over to check for a pulse. “She’s got one, but it seems faint to me. We never did anything like this before, Roberto. Not even in the army. You know it’s the truth.”
“Look, Dietrich pays us a lot of money to do our jobs and keep our mouths closed. This is no different. Just don’t let her get a look at your face.” He shoved a tubular mask toward José. “Wear this. Now quit your bitching and load up. We’re wasting time standing around.”
José helped his brother load the woman’s limp body onto the supply boat. Within the hour, they’d headed out into Sugar Bay, gunning the twin motors to full throttle and disappearing into the foggy night.
The Indigo Brothers Trilogy Boxed Set Page 67