Demon Key

by David Brookover

  “Sorry.” He ran his hand across his face. The perspiration dripped onto his blanket. “I was having a dream.”

  “Sounded more like a nightmare.”

  He hugged the blanket to his neck. “I was freezing. And wet. It was dark, and I thought I was alone until I heard a woman groan and a man’s hoarse voice respond.”

  “Let me get you some coffee to warm you up,” Teddi suggested.

  “Tea, please. It’s in the cupboard above the sink.”

  Teddi stood and made her way around the shadowy objects between her and the kitchen entrance.

  “You’re naked!” he hissed after her.

  She paused and turned. “It’s a bad habit. Ryan hated it.”

  “Ryan was a fool.”

  “Thanks.” She entered the kitchen, tiptoed around a slumbering lump, Zeus, and found the tea. Within minutes, the teakettle was whistling.

  Teddi returned with a tray of two mugs of steaming water and a pair of teabags. “Choose your own strength. I’m a coffee person myself.”

  “Then what are you drinking?” he asked, sitting up.

  “Tea.”

  He laughed.

  “When in Rome . . .”

  “Yeah.” His eyes roamed her attractive curves. “Would you like this blanket?”

  “To cover my body?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Is it that repulsive?”

  “On the contrary, it’s magnificent.”

  “Then, no thanks. Modesty doesn’t become me.”

  “Good.” He placed the dripping, spent teabag on the tray.

  “So, what do you think your dream meant?”

  “Not all dreams have a deeper meaning,” he explained, sipping his tea. “I don’t know that this one had any significance.”

  “Trust me, the way you were curled into a ball and sweating like Kobe Bryant, it meant something.”

  “Are you psychic?”

  She chuckled. “Intuitive. I’m FBI, and I say it means something.”

  “Naked FBI.”

  “And your meaning?”

  “It puts us psychics at a disadvantage.”

  “Are you going romantic on me?”

  “Heavens no.”

  She blew the steam from her teacup. “Really.”

  “Well, maybe just a smidge.”

  “Would you like to continue our conversation in my bed?”

  “No.”

  “How about just going to bed and skipping the conversation?”

  “Best idea you’ve ever had.”

  “You see, I am intuitive.”

  Jilly sputtered and coughed herself awake. Her grip on the ladder rung was tenuous, and her hands slipped off. She slid beneath the water, but popped up immediately. John’s hand groped for her and nearly poked her eye out.

  “Watch it!” she berated him.

  “Sorry,” he muttered huskily.

  She finally composed herself. “Sorry if I bit your head off,” she apologized. “This whole sleeping-in-water thing is pissing me off.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Couldn’t you try and break down the door?”

  “You mean break it up?”

  “Whatever. You know damn well what I meant, Casino Man.”

  If Jilly weren’t a woman, John would’ve slugged her by now. She was definitely trying his nerves. “I could give it a shot. Anything’s better than standing in this water and trying to sleep.” He really wanted to say, “Anything’s better than staying down here with such a bitch!” But, of course, he didn’t.

  “That’s the understatement of the year.”

  He sighed. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

  John climbed the ladder, gripped the top rung, and slammed his left shoulder into the trapdoor near the hinges. Maybe they would be so rusted that they would easily break apart.

  “Oww!” he yelled. He rubbed his throbbing shoulder. “That hurt!”

  “Don’t be such a baby. Of course it hurt, but you know what they say.”

  “No,” he groaned, but he was sure she’d tell him.

  “No pain — no gain.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.”

  “You want me to try?” she huffed indignantly.

  He didn’t bother replying. She could be impossible at times. Most of the time. Instead, he took a deep breath and rammed his shoulder into the center planks this time.

  Crrraaack!

  “Was that the door?” she shouted hopefully.

  “I think it was my collarbone.”

  “Shit!”

  Chapter 78

  “Good morning,” Teddi greeted Jackson. Her voice was husky from her own moans last night.

  He embraced her again, their bodies intertwining easily as they had most of the night. They were exhausted, but blissfully satisfied.

  “We’ve got an active day ahead,” she managed between kisses.

  They reluctantly released each other and rolled out of bed. Teddi headed for the door.

  “You might want to slip into something, my dear.”

  She frowned. “I thought we discussed this last night.”

  “We did, but we didn’t factor Dex into the equation. I heard him rustling out in the kitchen, and it smells like he’s found the bacon and eggs.”

  She grinned. “I think I’ll reconsider.”

  “Good idea.”

  She opened a dresser drawer, pulled out one of Jackson’s dress shirts, shook it open, and slipped into it. “How many buttons should I do?”

  “All but one — the top one.”

  “That’s a lot of modesty,” she complained.

  “Think Dex.”

  “All right, Jackson. All but the top two.” She left him smiling and shaking his head.

  Dex already had their plates ready and waiting by the time they finished showering and dressing. Scrambled eggs and cheese. Pancakes. Bacon doused in maple syrup. Everyone ate hungrily.

  “You two are certainly chipper this morning,” Dex beamed. “Anything I should know about?”

  Jackson and Teddi both said “no” simultaneously, then laughed.

  Suddenly, Jackson cried out and clutched his left shoulder.

  “What’s the matter?” Teddi asked, jumping up. She hoped that he hadn’t injured himself during their sexual acrobatics last night.

  “I don’t know.” His eyes glazed over. “I broke my collarbone trying to break up the trapdoor.”

  “What?” Dex shouted. He shot Teddi a worried look. “What in tarnation is he talkin’ about?”

  Teddi shrugged.

  Jackson’s eyes returned to normal. “What happened?”

  Dex repeated Jackson’s strange muttering.

  “Oh God, Jackson, now I know what you meant last night after you awoke from your nightmare,” Teddi burst out.

  “What?” Jackson exclaimed.

  “Something’s happened to John and Jilly. They’re trapped in that cave in the Everglades. Remember, you were wet and shivering last night, and now your shoulder hurts this morning. And where would you find an old trapdoor?”

  Dex snapped his fingers. “At the Everglades cave! I was there.”

  Jackson studied Teddi’s smug expression. “Maybe you are psychic.”

  “Intuitive,” she reminded him.

  “She may be on to something,” Dex said.

  “I’d say so,” Jackson agreed.

  They finished breakfast with a sense of urgency, topped off the boat’s gas tank, and headed back through the bayou toward the Baton Rouge airport. Time seemed to crawl, but they did their best to stay focused on their hastily formed rescue plan.

  Teddi shouted over the engine. “Hey, Jackson, you told us that our trip to your place had been a setup. Who’s responsible for it?”

  “The person behind all this.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “Not at the moment. How about you? You’re the intuitive one.”

  She smiled as the wind whipped her short blond hair into flailing spi
kes. “I’m recharging the old mental batteries.”

  He appraised her body. “And those batteries, too?”

  She slapped his arm. “Just keep your eyes on the river and your thoughts on South Florida.”

  Dex ignored them. He was concerned that he might not be able to find his way out to the island cave again. He remembered a whole helluva lot of confusing turns and mangrove breeches before they’d arrived.

  But Dex didn’t press his memory too hard. He knew if he did, the stress just might wipe his slate clean.

  Chapter 79

  Teddi’s cell phone rang as soon as her feet hit the puddled tarmac beside their chartered plane at the Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport. It was a brief conversation.

  “Who was that?” Jackson asked.

  “Charlie. He wants to meet me at three for a briefing.”

  “Does he know about Ryan?” Dex asked her, as they jogged to shelter inside the private hangar.

  “No, and I don’t want to tell him over the phone.”

  “Smart girl.”

  “So it appears that you two will have to go it alone out to the cave,” she said, disappointment pinching her face.

  “We’ll be fine. Let’s meet at five back at the motel. We’ve got a long night ahead of us,” Jackson predicted.

  “I know. I hope Jilly and John are all right.”

  “Me, too,” Jackson agreed, and kissed her hard.

  Dex didn’t notice. He was still engrossed in drawing the mental map to the limestone cave, and there were still a few significant gaps.

  Dex fired up his sheriff’s department airboat, and the large fan slowly revolved behind them.

  “I’m not sure I know the way,” Dex lamented.

  “No problem. I can follow John’s psychic trail out there.”

  Dex scratched his head, not fathoming Jackson’s remark.

  “It’s like following a trail of breadcrumbs,” Jackson elucidated.

  Dex smiled. “Good . . . I guess.”

  They slipped on the ear protectors to drown out the engine’s roar, and Dex pushed the throttle forward. They were off.

  Both men silently prayed that Jilly and John were still alive, and they vowed to arrest those responsible for their friends’ predicament.

  President Shelton Hanover called General Waring’s cell phone and congratulated him on a job well done.

  “Did you find proof that the mosasaur’s dead?” Hanover asked.

  “Not yet, but the Gulf’s pretty deep at that spot. We’re moving submersibles into the area because our divers can’t reach the bottom,” Waring responded. “I ordered the Navy to provide me with the irrefutable video evidence you wanted.”

  “Well, General, it would make a great video bite for tomorrow’s six o’clock news,” Hanover reminded him. He was always searching for positive news that would reinforce his powerful nationwide and worldwide political clout.

  “I understand, sir. We’re on it.”

  “I trust that you are. And, you’ll contact me directly as soon as you have that evidence in hand?”

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  “Thanks.”

  Waring tucked his cell away and stared out over the Gulf from the bridge of the Coast Guard cutter. A sudden notion chilled him.

  What if that human-chomping monster was still alive?

  Teddi grabbed a quick nap at the motel before meeting Charlie Simmons. She thought it was odd that he had requested a late lunch meeting at a small Chinese restaurant on University Drive in Coral Springs. He was normally a by-the-book manager who would’ve utilized the available FBI facilities in downtown Fort Lauderdale. Cheap and well equipped. He was a budget curmudgeon.

  But in a way, she was glad. Hunger gnawed her stomach, and she still occasionally felt weak from her long coma battle.

  Charlie greeted her beneath a dripping flowered canvas portico in front of the Yellow Lotus restaurant. The rain was falling harder here than at the motel.

  “There’s been a change of plans,” he said brusquely. “Ryan Wilkerson’s missing.”

  “Uh, he’s not missing, sir.” She tried to think of a professional way to announce his death. Something clever, yet somber, to ease the blow. She drew a blank. “He’s dead,” she said finally, and held her breath for his reaction.

  His gray brows shot up. “What’s this?”

  Relieved that he hadn’t exactly popped a blood vessel, she hurriedly described last night’s bayou incident, careful not to overlook even the most obscure detail. His eyes bore into hers as she spoke, and Teddi grew increasingly uncomfortable in his presence.

  Charlie’s cold, business-like countenance had been intimidating until she got to know him better over the years. His face was long and gaunt, with sleepy blue eyes that peered out from droopy lids but amazingly missed nothing. His smile was crooked, his complexion sallow, and his balding head shaved, but his body was the picture of health. He worked out at his athletic club each morning before he arrived at work.

  His demeanor was gruff, and his dialogue with his departmental subordinates was acerbic, but he had grown fond of Teddi for some inexplicable reason. She didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Others within the department accused her of sleeping with him, but the truth was he’d never made a pass at her. If Charlie liked her, so be it. And if it pissed off Ryan, so much the better.

  But Ryan was gone now, as well as, it appeared, her favorite-son status with Charlie.

  “And you just watched it happen,” he said. It wasn’t a question. It sounded more like an accusation.

  “Like I told you, I tried to stop it, but Ryan nearly shot me for my effort.”

  “I see.”

  But did he? thought Teddi.

  “I want you to take me out to this Demon Key of yours. I want to see what Ryan might’ve been up to out there.”

  Teddi checked her watch. If she took Charlie out to the key, she’d be late for her five o’clock rendezvous with Jackson and Dex.

  Teddi stood her ground. “I can’t right now. I’m hot on an investigative lead that might close this case, and I have to be back here by five this afternoon.”

  “Cancel it.”

  “Sir, you placed me in charge of this investigation, and I intend to see it through,” she replied stubbornly. “And besides, it’s too dangerous to go out there now.”

  “Are you afraid that the mosasaur might return?”

  “No.”

  “It won’t, you know. It’s too far away.”

  How could he know that? “I can’t disclose the reason for my fear at this time, sir, but I promise to include that information in my report when the investigation is concluded.”

  “I’m afraid that will be impossible.”

  Teddi folded her arms across her chest. “And why’s that?”

  Charlie grinned, pulled a gun from his suit coat pocket, and pointed it at her chest. The barrel was outfitted with a silencer.

  “You won’t close the case, because you’ll be dead. Now get into my car and don’t raise a fuss. I won’t hesitate to shoot you.”

  “But, why are you doing this, Charlie?” she asked, stalling while she contemplated an escape.

  Charlie prodded her in the ribs with the gun. “Get moving.” He directed her to a black Crown Victoria’s driver’s door. “Get in and slide across the seat.”

  When they were both inside, he handcuffed her wrists behind her.

  “What’s this all about?” she pried. Escape seemed unlikely now, especially with Jackson and his psychic abilities so far from Coral Springs.

  “Why, Teddi, haven’t you figured this out yet? I’m losing confidence in your investigative capability.”

  She tumbled the facts over and over in her mind. Nothing. It was hopeless, unless . . . “You’re behind everything: Swinson, the kidnappings, Ryan’s death . . .”

  “Don’t forget Jilly Newton and John Redfeather.”

  “You killed them, too?”

  He chuckled. �
�They’re as good as dead. Nobody’ll find them out in that great big swamp, Teddi. I sunk Redfeather’s airboat to make sure.”

  Teddi wanted to murder him then and there, but there was a minor problem — the handcuffs.

  Charlie merged into the heavy University Drive traffic.

  “So why don’t you just kill me and get it over with?”

  “Don’t be in such a hurry. I’ve booked you for a front seat at our people’s demon ritual tonight,” he announced cheerfully. “You, and you alone, will be the only outsider to witness its pageantry — its grandeur.”

  “What if I refuse?”

  He scowled at her. “You won’t have a choice,” he said callously. “And, I further arranged for you to have a significant role in the festivities.”

  Teddi slumped in her seat. Like Charlie’s other victims, she was doomed.

  Chapter 80

  Dex guided the airboat around several small islands, but so far they’d failed to locate the right one. Jackson’s psychic GPS trail had died out a half hour ago, and he realized that might portend John Redfeather’s death.

  They were about to call it quits when Dex shut down the noisy engine and pointed to a tree-covered lump in the distance.

  “Kinda looks familiar, Jackson,” Dex said, pointing. “But I’m not real sure.”

  “Let’s take a look anyway,” Jackson said. “My batting average is zero up to this point, and we could certainly use a home run.”

  Dex fired up the engine again, and they sped the hundred yards to the sandy key. Dex shouted at his companion.

  “There’s a trapdoor over there under those trees,” he exclaimed from his higher vantage point at the stern.

  Jackson didn’t wait for Dex to beach the craft. He jumped feet first into the water and swam to the small island. He raced to the trapdoor, turned to Dex, and made a slashing motion across his throat. Dex immediately killed the engine.

  “Throw me that crowbar you brought along,” he shouted.

  Dex didn’t waste words; he just heaved the heavy tool onto the beach where Jackson quickly retrieved it. By the time Dex had anchored the boat, Jackson peeled back the rusted hinges like soup can lids and threw the broken door aside. It lurched to a halt, hindered by the recently padlocked chain that looped through the steel ring and catch.