by Tripp Ellis
Her eyes sparkled. "I was hoping you would say that."
She reclined and curled up with the sheets.
I slid on my sneakers, laced them up, then opened the hatch. Buddy sprinted into the room and sprang onto the bed. Dita petted him. Buddy looked at me with curious eyes, wondering where I was going this time of night.
I slipped into the hallway. Grunts and moans of ecstasy filled the companionway. I moved to the end of the hall and knocked on the hatch to the guest suite. "Bad news. Sarah Carson's been kidnapped."
The grunts and moans stopped.
"Finish your business, and I'll meet you in the salon,” I shouted through the hatch.
I sprinted up the steps, fixed a pot of coffee, and waited for JD.
By the time Jack staggered into the salon, the coffee was ready. I poured us both a cup, steam wafting from the mugs.
We left the Vivere, and we sipped the tasty Sumatra as we strolled toward the parking lot. Driving a stick shift with a steaming hot cup of coffee was an art form that Jack had down to a science. He didn't spill a drop as he launched onto the highway.
We rode in silence for a moment. I knew what Jack was thinking. We both felt responsible.
"We never should have left her at the hotel," Jack said.
"She was in good hands," I said, trying to absolve both of us.
"Not good enough." JD’s fist pounded the steering wheel. "You were right. You brought up the bit about the first floor cabana. I don't know what I was thinking. We should have put her on the fourth floor."
"It wouldn't have changed the outcome. These guys were determined."
"You know this was prompted by the raid on Fernando's house, don't you?" Jack said.
I nodded.
"He's got leverage over our witness now. Chuck Carson will never testify against him."
"Not if we find Sarah,” I said.
A few minutes later, we pulled into the parking lot of the Seven Seas. Red and blue lights flickered from patrol cars. There was an ambulance with red and white flickering lights. We rushed into the lobby and made our way down the path to the cabana.
Sheriff Daniels along with two other uniformed deputies were on the scene. The hotel manager, and the house security, lingered nearby. Brenda, the medical examiner, was there along with the forensics team. A woman huddled nearby, talking to a deputy. Cameras flashed, documenting evidence and body positioning. Reyes lay in a pool of blood near the entrance to the cabana. Brenda hovered over his body.
"What have you got?" I asked.
"Two small caliber wounds," Brenda said. “One to the chest, one to the head. 9mm most likely. Probably suppressed."
"Judging by the position of the body and the blood spatter patterns, the shooter likely came from that direction," Daniels pointed. "The sliding glass door was lifted off the hinges, and the cabana door was kicked open. They attacked from both sides. These guys knew what they were doing."
"What about the witness?" I asked.
Daniels motioned for the woman standing by the deputies to join us. "This is Margaret Collins. She was in her third-floor suite. She's the one who heard the scream.”
"What can you tell me about the appearance of the speedboat?" I asked.
She shrugged. "Not much. Maybe 25 feet? White with red trim. I think? It all happened so fast, and I couldn’t see that well. Two men dragged the girl into the boat. There was a driver. They all wore black outfits with black ski masks."
"Which direction did they go?" I asked.
Margaret shrugged. "I don't know. They disappeared into the blackness."
"What time was this?"
"3 AM. 3:15 AM, maybe?"
“When did you call the Sheriff's Office?"
"I didn't. I called the front desk. They said they would handle it."
We talked for a few moments, then I thanked Margaret for her time. The deputy took her contact information. She was in from out of town and had a flight leaving later this afternoon. She was heading back to Ohio.
The night manager was a bald guy with round wire-rimmed glasses, wearing a cheap suit. His name was Lyle, and he fidgeted nervously.
I motioned him over.
"Do you have any security camera footage of this area?"
"We have security in the main lobby, interior hallways, the pool area, and the beach."
"Do you think you could get the beach footage for me?"
"Certainly." He hesitated a moment. "I'm hoping we can keep this away from the media. Nobody wants to stay in a hotel where somebody was shot and killed. We’ve already had a lot of bad press lately.”
“Don’t forget someone was kidnapped here as well,” JD said.
“Yes, kidnapping. I’ll be sure to add that to our brochure of attractions,” Lyle snarked.
JD sneered back at him.
Lyle adjusted his glasses and asked Daniels, "Do you think your deputies could keep the press out of this area? It's only a matter of time before they show up."
"I'll see what I can do," Daniels said.
Lyle bowed, respectfully. "Thank you."
He rushed away to make a copy of the security camera footage.
Daniels kept his cool, but he was boiling under the surface. "Nobody kills one of my deputies. You find these bastards.”
"No problem, boss," JD said.
30
The amber sun was cresting the horizon by the time we reached the station. The brilliant rays of morning danced across the sky.
It had been a long night.
The 1st cup of coffee had worn off, and I made a beeline for the coffee pot. It was a precious commodity around the department, and there was a surprisingly good selection of gourmet coffee available. I didn't know what was currently brewing in the pot, but it looked like a dark roast. Anything would do. I poured a cup and mixed in cream and sugar.
Jack did the same.
A deputy rousted Chuck Carson from his holding cell and transferred him into an interrogation room. He looked bleary-eyed and stressed. Bags hung under his eyes, and his hair was disheveled. He sat there in his orange jumpsuit with a bewildered look on his face.
"I need to know everything about Fernando Gallo's operation," I said.
"I told you everything I know. What's the urgency?"
I hesitated for a moment. "Sarah's been kidnapped."
His jaw dropped, and his eyes misted. Sadness immediately turned to anger. “God dammit! I thought you people had her in protective custody?"
"We did. An officer was killed." I paused. "We will find her and get her back. I promise."
"He'll kill her if I testify."
"Not if we find her first," I assured.
Chuck's face twisted, dismissively. "What can you do? Do you know who that man is?"
"He's a scumbag, I know that," Jack said.
"He isn't some small time narco-trafficker. He's connected to the highest levels of the Venezuelan government."
"Newsflash. We’re not in Venezuela," I said.
"Fernando Gallo's people can get to anyone. He can get to you, too," Chuck warned.
"Do you have any idea where he might have taken Sarah?" I asked.
Chuck shrugged. "I rarely had any interaction with him directly. He's got a legion of goons to do his dirty work."
"I need you to remember any details that might be helpful. Something that might give us a clue as to where your daughter is. Her life depends on it."
Chuck's distraught face tensed. His eyes welled, and he looked like he was about to burst. "I don't know. My end of the operation was pretty simple. I picked up the gold offshore, brought it into the Keys. Like I told you, I sold it to various refineries. They took the bullion, melted it down, turned it into jewelry, and that was the end of it. Untraceable. I had invoices and certificates of authenticity. I took a cut, then passed the money to Fernando. His parent company took over my business as an angel investor. The profits get funneled into his LLC. From there he shifts the money around. I don't know how he gets it ba
ck to Venezuela, but he does. On paper, it all looks pretty legit."
I grimaced.
"Fernando never touches the stuff. He never gets his hands dirty." Chuck looked at me with tearful eyes. "You’ve got to get her back!"
"You need to testify."
Chuck shook his head. “I’ll go to prison for the rest of my life if it means keeping my daughter safe."
We left Chuck in the interrogation room and stepped into the hallway. Daniels had a disappointed look on his face. Denise brimmed with information. "I've been doing some digging. This is where it gets tricky. AF&G Global Imports LLC is a 51% stakeholder in XTG Metal Liquidators LLC.”
“Gallo’s companies?” I asked.
Denise shook her head. "Gallo doesn't own either company. At least not on paper. AF&G Global Imports LLC is owned by MXR Asset Management Unlimited LLC, which in turn is owned by a foreign corporation registered in the Cayman Islands. The money is passing from shell corporation to shell corporation. Gallo’s name isn't anywhere on the documentation. He's probably using a low-level underling to register these companies. It will take quite a bit of work to tie Gallo to any of this. The guy is smart."
"I think it's time I called in the feds," Daniels said. "FBI, Customs, Homeland."
I flashed Daniels a concerned glance.
"Sarah Carson is Gallo’s only leverage," Daniels said. "She's the only thing keeping Chuck from testifying. If he kills her, he loses his leverage. Bringing in the feds will piss him off, but I don't think he'll retaliate against Sarah. It's not in his best interest." Daniels sighed. "In the meantime, do what you can do to find the girl. Use some of your assets."
I wasn’t as confident as Daniels was that Gallo wouldn’t retaliate.
We left the station and headed back to the marina. I could hear Buddy’s incessant barking as we strolled down the dock. It was unusual. Buddy was normally pretty quiet and only barked when he got excited.
JD and I shared a concerned glance and jogged to the boat. The sliding glass door was open. We rushed across the gangway and pushed into the salon. Buddy's muffled barks continued to filter from below deck. I drew my pistol and advanced cautiously down the steps.
Buddy was barking loud enough that the girls couldn’t have slept through it. I moved down the companionway toward the sound of the distressed dog. He was locked in a guest compartment. I opened the hatch and Buddy rushed out to greet me. I knelt down and petted his head. "What's wrong?"
Barely audible moans from the girls filtered into the passageway.
JD's eyes widened, and he darted toward the VIP guest suite. He pushed open the hatch. Shock washed over his face.
I joined him at the hatch to see Constance on the bed, hogtied and gagged. I raced down the companionway to the master suite to find Dita in the same condition. I rushed to the bed and untied her wrists and ankles, then pulled the gag out of her mouth. She flung her arms around me. “Thank God you're here!”
"What happened?"
31
"It was horrible," Dita sobbed. "I was asleep, then Buddy started barking. A man in a ski mask burst into the compartment and shoved a gun in my face. He tied me up. I was scared to death I was going to get…"
"Are you okay?"
She nodded. “I’m a little freaked out, but he didn't hurt me. He gave me a message for you."
I cringed.
“He said to back off, or people are going to get hurt."
Rage boiled under my skin. I held Dita in my arms. "I'm so sorry that happened to you."
She cried for a few moments, then wiped the tears from her eyes. “Can you take me back to my apartment? I need to get out of here.“
“Sure. I’ll give you a ride," I said.
Dita got dressed, and I escorted her down the dock to the parking lot. She climbed on the back of my bike, pulled on the spare helmet, and she held on as I drove across town. This time, I took it slow and easy. She didn’t need anything else to frazzle her nerves. The traumatic event had left her rattled.
We said our goodbyes, and I could see in her eyes that she wanted to stay as far away from me as possible. I didn't imagine that she would be spending the night on the Vivere again anytime soon. I can't say as I blamed her. It would be enough to scare anybody off.
"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked.
She nodded, but it was a lie.
"If you need anything, or you just need to talk, I’m a phone call away."
She kissed me on the cheek and said goodbye.
I watched her jog into the lobby of her apartment and wondered if that was the last time I would see her. A frown tugged at my lips, and my heart sank just a little. I enjoyed spending time with Dita. We had a helluva few nights together.
I pulled my helmet back on, twisted the throttle, and angled the bike around, heading back toward the marina.
I parked the bike and pushed into Diver Down. Madison was behind the bar, and there were a few customers enjoying breakfast. I took a seat at the bar with a solemn look on my face.
"What's the matter?" Madison asked.
"Maybe you should take that vacation," I suggested.
"I plan on it!”
"I mean. You should leave today."
She scoffed. "Sorry. Not today. I haven't decided where I'm going. I need to pack. And why the rush?" Her eyes narrowed, suspiciously. "What's going on?"
"Nothing."
"No. The last time you wanted me to leave town something serious was going on."
"Someone has just made a very persuasive argument that I should back off my investigation."
She gasped. "For fuck’s sake, Tyson. When is this going to end?"
"I don't know. I guess when I stop hunting down bad guys."
"Well, maybe that's something to consider? You know, out of respect for your family,” she snarked in a cutting tone.
I took a deep breath. "That's neither here nor there. I'm in the middle of this now, and I have to see it through."
She clenched her jaw and seethed. "Why? Why do you do this?"
"I've been doing this my whole life, in one way or another."
"And where has that gotten you?"
I frowned.
"I know you think you’re doing your duty. You think you’re doing what’s right. I don't know what kind of demons you have in there that haunt you, but it's not your responsibility to save the entire world."
"I'm not trying to save the entire world."
She rolled her eyes. "Okay, it's not your responsibility to save Coconut Key."
"I like Coconut Key."
She growled in frustration. "You're impossible. Don't you see what this costs you? You can't hold onto a relationship. Your lifestyle drives everyone away and puts everyone close to you at risk. Maybe it's time you pass the torch? Let somebody else shoulder the responsibility."
I cringed. She made valid points. I couldn't argue with what she said.
"Don't you ever want to settle down? Start a family? I know you and JD like to run around chasing every skirt that sways in the breeze, but how long can you do that for?"
I shrugged. "JD's been doing it for a long time. Seems to work for him."
She growled again, and her eyes narrowed. "You are going to be that old man who has nobody. You know that? Is that what you want? Because, sure as shit, that's what you're gonna get."
I grimaced again and was silent for a long moment. "Thanks for the life assessment, Sis. I'm going to call the sheriff and have him post a full-time deputy here. You should think about going on that vacation as soon as you can."
I pushed away from the bar and strolled out of the restaurant. I noticed the lizard-green Porsche was not in the parking lot anymore. I sulked back to the boat and Buddy greeted me in the salon. I took a seat on the lounge and he jumped into my lap. I stroked his fur, and he licked my face. "You'll be there for me, won't you?"
Buddy barked.
I called Daniels, and he said he would send a deputy to sit in the parking lot at Diver Down. We
were running thin on resources. It wasn't a viable long-term solution.
I crawled off to bed and grabbed a few hours sleep. But it wasn't a good sleep. It was that overtired, buzzing with adrenaline, nervous sleep. I woke up sweating to the sound of Buddy barking again, and somebody rapping on the salon door.
I grabbed my 9mm, pulled on my shorts, and scampered up the steps to the salon. To my surprise, Karina stood on the aft deck, peering through the sliding glass door.
This time she wore a ball cap pulled low, and a pair of baggy sweats.
I had never seen her like that. It was usually a short black dress and fuck-me pumps. An involuntary frown tugged on my face. What the hell was she doing here?
I unlatched the lock and slid the door open. My response was curt. "Can I help you?"
She glanced around, “Can I come in before someone sees me?"
I stepped aside and let her pass. She fidgeted nervously, glancing around the salon. "I know I’m not your favorite person, but I just wanted you to know… I'm not with Fernando by choice."
I was silent a moment, waiting for her to explain.
"Fernando brought me here from Venezuela. At first, it sounded like a way out. Anything was better than the situation I came from. I knew he was rich and powerful, but I didn't know the extent of it. I can't ever leave him, you understand. He'll have my family back in Venezuela killed. I am essentially his slave. A prisoner in a gilded cage. I live in a nice house, and he buys me nice clothes, but nothing is mine."
"And the shoplifting?"
She shrugged. "A way to entertain myself. And in the back of my mind, I think, if I get caught, they will throw me in jail, and I will be free of Fernando Gallo."
She paused for a long moment, waiting for my response.
"Do you know where he's keeping Sarah Carson?" I asked.
She shook her head.
"Find out!”
She hesitated a moment, then nodded. She programmed my number into her phone under a different name—one that wouldn't arouse suspicion if Fernando perused her contacts.
"I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you from the beginning. But, how could I be?"
I shrugged. "Just find the girl, without being too obvious about it."