Storm Surge (Delta Stevens Crime Logs Book 6)

by Alex Westmore

  The old woman bent over to look in Delta’s eyes.

  “Buena,” Delta said, in a voice that didn’t sound like her own.

  The old woman smiled a near-toothless grin. “Flora!” she shouted, as she turned and hobbled from the room.

  Slowly sitting up, Delta felt a surge of pain in her shoulder. “Shit!” she lay back down. From outside the wooden structure, Delta heard the rapid voices of the old woman and someone else. When she heard the door open, Delta saw one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen. With waist-length shimmering black hair and smooth, bronze skin, she looked exactly like what Pocahontas might have looked like, only more mature.

  “Buenos,” Delta said, wishing she knew more words than the dozen or so in her repertoire.

  Pocahontas smiled and sat next to the bed. This was the woman Delta had seen earlier, while swimming in the fever. She could tell, not by her appearance, but by her energy there was something different about her.

  “Feel better?” Pocahontas asked with a Spanish accent.

  Delta’s eyebrows shot up. “You speak English?”

  Pocahontas held her thumb and index finger an inch apart. “Poquito. It is a long time since I say it.”

  Delta nodded. “You speak it just fine.”

  Pocahontas blushed. “Gracias.”

  Slowly sitting up, Delta ignored the throb of her shoulder and the ache in her head. “Where am I?”

  “A small island name Sura.”

  Delta looked around the barren shack. The only things in this room were a bed and the fan. The walls and floor were wooden, and a small light bulb stuck out nakedly from one wall. She had been in a Costa Rican, or Tico home before, yet none had been quite as sparsely decorated as this place.

  Pocahontas grinned at Delta. “My father has boat. See you fall, pick you up. Simple.”

  Delta grinned. In her life, nothing had ever been simple. “Your father has a boat?”

  “Sí.”

  “Does he have a telephone?”

  The woman shook her head, her soft brown eyes conveying regret. “No. Not now…”

  “What happened?”

  Her eyes glazed over with fear. “The Colombians,” she said in a tiny voice that Delta had to strain to hear.

  Just the word brought Delta completely upright, a flash of pain igniting in her shoulder. The Colombians? In an instant, so many images fast-forwarded through her memory. They were why she was here! They were the ones who shot her; shot her as she was running. The memories were still fuzzy, but Delta knew from previous experience with concussions that they would clear up soon enough. “The Colombians? Tell me about them.”

  Pocahontas glanced at the door, as if she were afraid they might walk in. “They come. Tell Papa to pick bags each four days.”

  “Your father has to pick bags up from the Colombians every four days?” Delta’s head was now throbbing in unison with her shoulder as she struggled to clear her memory.

  “Sí. Then a boat come and take bags from Papa.”

  “And they ruined your phone.”

  “Sí. Very mean. Scare me and Papa.”

  Delta nodded, suddenly seeing Megan on a rock in the middle of a lake. Then, that image turned into a crocodile that had saved Delta’s life. And that crocodile transformed into a tall, sturdy-looking man named General Zahn. The rest of the memories flooded back like a dam had been breached, and Delta remembered exactly why she was there and how she had come to be in that warm Caribbean water.

  “They’re pretty scary folks.” Delta could see fear in the woman’s eyes, and they reminded her of the fear she’d seen in Megan’s. The memories of what Zahn and the Colombians had done to Megan made her sick to her stomach. With the fever subsiding, her thoughts became sharper, and Delta began to differentiate between memories and visions. Neither of them were very appealing.

  “They are bad. Muy malo.” Pocahontas’ eyes grew larger.

  “Did your father say what happened after I fell?” Delta remembered plunging into the water and resurfacing in a whirl of waves created by the helicopter. She’d inhaled countless pints of salt water trying to rise above the waves, but it was no use. She had been weakened by the second shot and the fight in her was all but gone.

  “Sí. The heli… heli…”

  “Helicopter.”

  “Sí. The helicopter fly away.”

  “If you are so afraid of the Colombians, why did your papa help me?”

  “Papa no like Colombians. Helicopter is Colombian, but you no Colombian. Entiendes?”

  Delta nodded. “Entiendo. When was this?”

  “Three days.”

  Delta nearly fell out of the bed. “Three days ago?” Her voice rose so loud, she scared herself. “I’ve been here for three fucking days?”

  Pocahontas’ eyes grew wider, and Delta realized she’d scared her. “I’m sorry,” Delta said softly, reaching out to touch Pocahontas’ hand. “It’s just… I can’t believe…”

  Pocahontas nodded. “Caliente. Mi abuela…” Pocahontas struggled to find the English equivalent. When she did, her eyes lit up. “My grandmother take two… uh, two…”

  “Bullets?”

  “Sí. Aquí y aquí,” Pocahontas pointed to Delta’s shoulder and leg.

  Delta remembered. As she had made her way to the helicopter, something had bitten her in the leg, and she had stumbled.

  Clearly, not bitten.

  She’d been shot, and when she had jumped for the helicopter, she’d been hit again, lost her grip, and plummeted into the blue abyss below.

  “And your grandmother took the bullets out?”

  “Sí. Then, you get…fiebre.” She placed her palm on her forehead.

  Delta looked into the kind brown eyes searching her face. “You took care of me.”

  “Sí.”

  “Gracias. My name is Delta.”

  “Flora.” Flora took her hand and gave it a slight squeeze.

  “It’s a beautiful name. Thank you, Flora, for taking care of me.”

  Flora bowed her head in a sincere, humble gesture. “Papa say you bring buena fortuna.”

  Slowly swinging her legs over the side of the bed and lowering her feet to the floor, Delta suddenly realized she was completely naked. “Good fortune?” she asked, covering her exposed breasts and feeling silly for doing so. The blue body paint the Shaman had painted on her during her initiation would forever be a part of her body, and she saw Flora staring in awe.

  Delta had been shot and left in the Caribbean to die and Flora’s father considered her lucky? Her head felt like someone was pounding it with a drum… or was that like a drum? It didn’t matter which. She ached from stem to stern, and there was only one thing on her mind: she had to get word to Connie and Megan that she was alive. Suddenly, a huge ball of fear found its way to Delta’s throat.

  “The helicopter. Did it make it?”

  Flora cocked her head. “Make it?”

  Delta nodded vehemently. “Yes, yes, did it get free?”

  Flora nodded. “Sí. Papa say it fly away, fumando.”

  Delta heaved a sigh of relief. Then they had made it. Maybe they were the lucky ones. “Why does your Papa think I am good fortune? I wound up in the sea.”

  Flora rose, stepped from the room, and returned with Delta’s clothes, blood-free and cleaner than when she’d worn them last. She handed the clothes to Delta. “He sees this.” Flora reached out and fingered the jaguar tooth necklace hanging around Delta’s neck.

  “This? I don’t understand.” Delta looked down at the tooth and sighed. So much had happened to her since she’d left River Valley.

  “Papa save Bri warrior,” she said, pointing to Delta. “Bring good fortune.”

  Delta touched the necklace. The tooth was cool and smooth. The Bribri tribe had managed to reunite Delta and Megan and, in the process, made Delta’s spirit a member of their tribe. Shaman said she had a warrior spirit that would bring strength to their diminishing people. The ceremony, what
she could recall of it, at least, had been one of the highlights in Delta’s distinguished life. There had been an odd mixture of realism and visions that night, and Delta hadn’t even begun to sort through it all.

  What she did know was that she was now, and would always remain, a Bri warrior, whether she was in the rainforest or back at the River Valley Police Department.

  Delta nodded in understanding. It appeared Shaman had still been watching over her when she had fallen, for how else could she explain Flora’s father being there in time to pull Delta’s ass out of the water before she drowned or bled to death? “Where is your father now?”

  Flora pointed. “Fix boat. Hit a rock bring you in.”

  Good fortune, eh?

  “Maybe I can help.” Delta started to rise but felt dizzy and quickly sat back down. “Maybe not.”

  Flora nodded, holding Delta’s shirt out for her to put on. “Still healing.”

  Nodding, Delta closed her eyes for a minute to think as she struggled into her shirt. She felt Flora’s soft hand touch her cheeks as she buttoned up the bullet-holed shirt. Opening her eyes, she found Flora gazing admiringly at her.

  “Never before meet a woman warrior,” Flora said shyly.

  Delta smiled softly. She sure didn’t feel like much of a warrior. All she had managed to do was get shot, fall in the drink, and wind up on some tiny island who knew where? If she truly was a warrior, she had to start thinking like one and get herself off the island and back into the game. Surely Connie, Megan, Sal, and Josh were worried sick wondering what had happened to her. Delta had known that feeling when she received the heart-wrenching news that Megan was missing. Had it only been days? Weeks? It felt like months.

  “When will your father return?”

  “Mañana.”

  “I must go with him. I have to get to the mainland. Those men must be stopped.”

  Flora nodded and patted Delta’s good shoulder. “I tell him. Where you go then?”

  Delta thought for a moment, her head slowly becoming accustomed to the throbbing. She needed to make sure that the Colombians were finally, irrevocably stopped. She needed to get help, and there was only one place to go for that. “Where else? Back to the Bri.”

  “The Bri are the only ones we can trust,” Connie explained to Gina as they drove back to the hotel from the airport. Gina reached over and took Connie’s hand before trying to adjust her weight to a more comfortable position.

  “So, you’re going back in there to find them, even though the Colombians may still be there.”

  Connie looked at Gina’s pregnant body and nodded. While it was wonderful to see her, their reunion was bittersweet, as Connie replayed the last three days of hunting for Delta. “There isn’t another choice, hon.”

  “There’s always another choice, Connie.” Gina was in private practice as a psychologist, and consistently tried to get Connie and Delta to see that there were always options, even in a crisis. Gina had expressed her fears to Connie that, one day, Delta would make the wrong choice, and it would mean the end of her life or someone else’s. Connie had retorted that people made those decisions every day, whether they were cops or not. Still, Gina always tried to be the voice of reason whenever Delta pulled Connie into one of her schemes.

  “There are more people who need our help, Gene,” Megan offered softly from the back seat. “We’re going back for Delta. We’re going back after everyone. It’s what’s right.”

  Gina shook her head. “I understand that, but don’t you think the odds of finding one person in a jungle that size seem a little… impossible?”

  Connie squeezed Gina’s hand. “Normally, I’d agree. But we managed to find Megan, and with the help of the Bri, we should have no problem finding Zahn again.”

  “Then, you’re going to their village first?”

  Connie nodded. “That’s the plan.”

  Gina cocked her head. “You call that a plan?”

  Connie nodded again. “It’s the best we can do.”

  Gina brought Connie’s hand to her lips and kissed the back of it. “You’re going in search of a tribe of people that even the Costa Ricans have a hard time finding? Why doesn’t that make me feel better?”

  Connie sighed as she pulled in front of the Gran Hotel. “Finding the Bri will enable us to find both Delta and the Colombians in one fell swoop. It really is our best hope.” Connie watched Josh amble up to the car. The Costa Ricans on the street were staring at him, probably because of his enormous size.

  Connie opened the car door and hopped out. Josh had showered and slicked back his hair. “How’s Sal doing, really?”

  Josh opened the trunk of the car and shrugged. “Honestly? I think her leg hurts like hell, but she’s not about to let a little pain keep her from helping you guys. She’s mighty fond of Delta, and, well, to be honest, there’s a certain Colombian she’d like to see pushin’ up daisies. I wouldn’t worry too much about Sal. She’s a fighter.” As Josh hefted Gina’s luggage from the trunk, he grunted under its weight. “What in the hell you got in here?”

  “Eddie and some other equipment,” Gina replied.

  “Eddie?” Josh queried, raising a bushy eyebrow.

  “My laptop computer,” Connie answered. “They’re getting faster now, and with this baby, we’ll be able to retrieve information and track down data without making the Panamanians, Costa Ricans, Colombians, or anyone else suspicious.”

  Josh gently set the luggage down. “Good thinking. Who knows how many government officials this bastard Zahn owns. Rumor has it that the cartels even have a number of our own government representatives in their back pocket.”

  Once they got back to their room, Connie flipped open the luggage and unpacked Eddie. “Now, we don’t need anybody to help us get info. With Eddie, I can get in and out of places to retrieve information, and no one will be the wiser.” Megan peered over Connie’s shoulder as the computer clicked and whirred. “Isn’t technology incredible these days?”

  Connie nodded and then turned to Josh. “Smelly get us a boat?”

  Josh nodded and joined Megan in looking over Connie’s shoulder. “Taken care of.”

  “And no one can trace it or the weapons to us?”

  Josh shook his head. “Not without a fucking crystal ball.”

  Placing a pillow under her back and trying to get comfortable after the nine-hour flight, Gina let out a loud sigh. “Why would that matter, honey?”

  Not taking her eyes off the screen, Connie started typing. “The less anyone knows of our existence down here, the better. It’s unfortunate the Panamanians had to know we’re here, but that couldn’t be avoided. Zahn could have people looking for us, or someone could get wind of what we’re doing and try to stop us.”

  Josh nodded. “Things don’t work down here the way they do in the States. The less we’re seen or heard from, the better.”

  Connie continued typing away. “Okay, so we have weapons, a boat, and Eddie. Now, Megan saw a phone in General Zahn’s trailer. He also had a laptop on his desk, with a generator nearby.”

  “It was there, all right. He is not some amateurish operation. He came fully equipped for a long stay in the jungle.”

  Connie nodded and turned from the computer to Gina. Her lover’s belly showed the bulge of a baby they had waited years to create, and she was unsure of how she felt about Gina being there. On one hand, they needed someone to stay at a home base in case they got separated, and on the other… Well, what did it matter? She was here, and that was that.

  “The idea I’ve been thinking about, hon, is for Eddie to locate as closely as possible either the Bri village or Zahn’s encampment. With these great topo maps, satellites, and my buddies on the Internet, we should be able to come within a half mile or so of these exact locations. I just need to find a signal to get online.”

  Gina looked up at the map on the wall. “And then?”

  “Then, we go kick ass,” Sal said, appearing from the adjoining room, toweling her hair
dry. “Good to see you again, Gina.”

  Gina grinned. “Con tells me you took one in the shorts.”

  Sal nodded, limping slightly over to the bed. “The docs are surprised at how well the wound looks. When I tried to explain that Delta rubbed some kind of herb on it, they just started ramblin’ in Spanish before laughing at me. Whatever it was, I tell you, was some kind of miracle drug.”

  Gina nodded. “Miracle and Delta are often used in the same sentence, eh?” To Connie, Gina asked, “So, you go back into the rainforest, rescue those poor people, take them through the jungle again, and then what?”

  Josh turned from the computer and lumbered over to the empty chair. “That’s what the boat’s for. There are miles of coastline and any number of places to hide a boat. Once we get everybody to the boat, we should be home free. I have friends in El Salvador who have a plane and will fly us home if everything goes according to plan.”

  Gina sighed loudly. “That’s a big if, guys.”

  “It’s all we got.” Connie turned to Gina, her eyes burning with intensity. “You’ll be on board the boat waiting to pick us up on the coast. We’ll make the boat home base.”

  “How will I know where to go?”

  “Smelly or Logan will be on the boat with you, making sure you and the boat are safe,” Josh replied. “It goes against everything I know to take you along, but Connie said she doubted we had a choice.”

  “Damn right, cowboy,” Gina said, pushing her weight forward so she could sit up.

  “Delta is my friend, too, and if there’s anything I can do to help, then I’ll do it. This isn’t River Valley, you know. We’re going to need all the help we can get to haul her out of this one. Look, I know you’re all worried about this life inside me, but to be honest, I know what the loss of Delta will mean to the lives outside of me. And it’s not a pretty picture.”

  Everyone in the room knew exactly how Gina felt, and it was that loyalty, that sense of family that had brought all of them down here in the first place. “We know what you mean,” Sal said softly. “Delta has that effect on people.”