Cache 72 (A Jaxon Jennings' Detective Mystery Thriller Series, Book 2)

by Richard C. Hale

  Jaxon stood and wobbled on his feet. The paramedic came up.

  “You need to stay off your feet, sir.”

  Jaxon waved him away and walked over to the group working on the woman. In a voice he could barely recognize as his own he said, “Is she dead?”

  One of the firemen looked up and shook his head.

  “No. We’re just trying to get her some oxygen. Her blood is saturated with the byproducts of the smoke. She can’t absorb the oxygen as well as we can yet.”

  She moaned and then started coughing.

  She wasn’t quite free of the chair, but she could move enough to roll to her side and vomit all over the paramedic’s boots. This made them all grin in relief. Apparently, she was going to be ok.

  Jaxon went back to his spot and sat on the grass. He grabbed the oxygen mask and sucked on the cool stream of air blowing through and gave a thumbs up to Ray who grinned. They had almost died, but in the end, had saved this woman.

  One of the local cops came up to them and asked what had happened. Jaxon explained as best he could through the mask who they were and what had happened. The cop seemed to take it all in stride, but he had a look that betrayed his true feelings. He thought this all bullshit. Jaxon produced his ID, as did Ray, and he seemed to show a little more respect.

  “How did you know she was in there?” He asked.

  “We didn’t,” Jaxon said. “We just saw the fire.”

  “Good thing you came along. She may not have survived much longer.”

  “Is her name Bethany Hope?”

  The cop looked at his notepad.

  “No. Rebecca Levesque. Her husband is Jim Levesque. He’s on his way from the hospital. He’s a doctor and on call at the moment. No children.”

  “That name sounds familiar,” Ray said.

  “It’s Bethany Hope’s friend,” Jaxon said.

  “Who’s Bethany Hope?” the cop asked, looking confused.

  “She’s the woman we’re looking for. Shit! If this is Rebecca’s house, the others might be in trouble too.” Jaxon stood up. “I need you to try and track down a few people, and quick. They may all be in danger.”

  He gave the officer the names and he went to his car and got on the radio. Jaxon called Tate in Orange Park and woke him up. He told him what happened.

  “Sloan Upton is here in Orange Park,” Tate said.

  “You better get somebody over there.”

  “On it. You sound funny. Everything ok?”

  “I’m talking through an oxygen mask. The fire.”

  “Got it. Be careful.”

  “You too. He’s set up all kinds of booby traps for us, so there’s no telling what’s waiting for you.”

  “Great.”

  “And Tate?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I believe you.”

  “About what?”

  “It’s not Fanucci. How could he be doing all this from jail?”

  “True. Glad you’re finally convinced.”

  “Don’t get all warm and fuzzy. This guy is still out there and he’s killing people.”

  “Right. I can take care of myself.”

  Jaxon hung up and the cop came back over.

  “The firefighters say there is something written on the walls in the house. A bunch of numbers. Does that mean anything to you?”

  Jaxon nodded. “Am I allowed back in? I need those numbers.”

  “The fire is out, so I don’t see why not. Are you all right to go back in there? You look like shit.”

  “I’m just tired, but I’ll be all right. Lead the way.”

  Jaxon followed the cop and entered the house through the front door. The smoke scent that hung in the air was heavy and wet and it made him wheeze and cough again. He had to stop for a second until the coughing subsided.

  “Maybe you should wait outside and I’ll get the numbers for you.”

  “No. I got it. Lead on.”

  The cop looked at him sideways but said nothing more.

  He led the way through the kitchen and down the long hallway to the game room. The firefighters were still cleaning up and the fire chief was inspecting the location. On the wall behind the bar was a set of lat/longs scrawled in what must be lemon juice because it wasn’t there when he had been in here before. Or, at least, he hadn’t noticed it. The chief was looking at it.

  “Was it lemon juice?” Jaxon asked, standing next to the man in the bright yellow chief’s hat.

  “Either that or some other reagent. It reacted to the heat. Do you know what it means?”

  “It’s for me. It’s a message.”

  “Looks like some kind of coordinates.”

  “Exactly. Anything else weird?”

  The chief turned to the cop with a questioning look on his face. The cop nodded. “He’s cool.”

  “The fire was rigged to a bomb. It could have been planted at any time. A timer was set to ignite a slow burn to create a lot of smoke.”

  “How long for it to actually start the fire and not just smoke?” Jaxon asked.

  “At least two hours. Could be more.”

  “So the woman could have been tied up for a while,” the cop said.

  “Looks that way. Thanks, Chief.”

  The man nodded and then went back to work.

  Jaxon and the cop walked back out of the house and he joined Ray, Gil, and Mel out front.

  “Another set of lat/longs,” Jaxon said and showed them the numbers. Gil plugged them into his GPS.

  “They’re close,” he said. “Just a couple of miles away.”

  Jaxon’s cell rang and he didn’t recognize the number.

  “Jaxon.”

  “It’s Tate. Sloan Upton was there and her husband was injured. She was tied up to the bed, a bomb set to go off in an hour. The bomb squad is here now trying to diffuse it.”

  “Be careful. Is she ok?”

  “Fine. Except she’s pretty traumatized. She said the guy wore a mask. Stabbed her husband when he tried to fight back.”

  “Were there any messages there? Numbers on walls or mirrors?”

  “Not that I can see, but I haven’t been through the whole house.”

  “Go look now. Is there a good sized wall where the bomb was planted?”

  “Yes.”

  Jaxon could hear voices as Tate passed men doing their jobs in the house.

  “Do you have a lighter?”

  “Yes,” Tate said, a little out of breath.

  “Find something to burn, like a piece of paper and run it along the wall. We’re looking for invisible ink.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Just do it.”

  Jaxon waited a couple of minutes as Tate put the phone down. Ray was staring at him and Mel looked a little anxious. She was still holding it together ok, but the fire had been scary. For him and her. He only just now realized she was the one who had supported him as they tried to escape the smoke. He owed her his life. His face must have conveyed this because her eyes changed and then she smiled.

  Tate came back to the phone.

  “There are a bunch of numbers.”

  “Read them to me.” Jaxon listened as he read them off and confirmed they were the same as the ones here in Palm Beach. “Thanks. Glad you made it there in time.”

  “It was close. How about the others?”

  “Haven’t heard yet.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  “You bet.” Jaxon hung up and went to the patrolmen. “Any word on the others I told you about?”

  He shook his head no and then got on his radio. He listened for a minute and then said, “They’ve gotten to Taylor Swenson’s house and no one answers. They’re entering the property as we speak. The others are still en route to Ellie Fountain’s.”

  “We’re going to take off. Here’s my cell number. Call me if they find numbers anywhere in the house like the ones on the wall here. Can you do that?”

  “You got it.”

  Jaxon signaled Ray, Gi
l and Mel and they all got in the Mustang and headed out. They left Jaxon’s rental for later.

  “Where to?” Ray said.

  “To rescue Bethany.”

  CHAPTER 28

  The water rose again and Bethany waited.

  There was no light in the compartment and the pitch black made her that much more afraid. She was exhausted, thirsty, and hungry, yet all those things faded from her mind as she felt the first trickle of water brush against her shin. Time to die, she thought.

  A tear trickled down her cheek and she thought of Dirk. She wondered if he was ok and if he was thinking about her. It felt like a lifetime had passed since she had seen him and her despair at never being able to look upon his face before she left this life for good, made the loneliness of the box she was trapped in that much more stifling. If the water didn’t drown her, her sorrow surely would. She was at the end of her endurance and she could fight no more.

  She waited as the water lapped against her thighs, a little shiver running up her spine. Her fever was probably high and her hand throbbed from the infection, but those seemed distant annoyances compared to the fate which she awaited. She wished she could look at the picture again. Danielle’s smiling face would give her strength, for she was sure that Danielle had forgiven her.

  Sometime over the last twenty-four hours, she had made her peace with the dead girl and knew in her heart that forgiveness was something she could allow to enter her soul.

  The thirst that burned her throat returned stronger, and she touched her damp fingers to her lips and tasted the wetness. Salt. She knew she couldn’t drink it, but her thirst was so strong she found her mind trying to convince itself it would be all right. Maybe if she went crazy or delirious from it, the pain of drowning wouldn’t be so bad. Her rational side knew there would not be enough time. The water was rising faster than it would take her to go crazy from the salt.

  She stood slowly in the rising water and steadied herself against the metal of the wall. She was so weak. She stepped to her right and tried to find the small crack in the roof that she knew was there. If only she could see a little light, it would bring her some comfort. The moon, the glow from a streetlight, even the dimness of the stars would be reassuring, but she could not find it. Nothing showed itself and she sank to her knees in the water and hung her head. The darkness would take her in its arms and there was nothing she could do about it.

  * * *

  They raced east as the moon rose full and Jaxon felt little comfort from it.

  He had a feeling they were going to be too late. He didn’t know where it came from, but it was strong. He also felt that this was it. These coordinates were going to lead them to Bethany and her prison. Somewhere up ahead, she was waiting, and hopefully, still alive.

  He pushed the Mustang to its limits and the engine screamed as they flew down the empty streets. He could see Ray in his peripheral vision glancing his way, but he ignored him. Gil grinned in the reflection of the rear view mirror and Jaxon knew he wished he was behind the wheel. Mel was silent.

  “Make a left ahead,” Gil said. “Then it should be in front of us. It looks like it’s near the ocean.”

  The tires squealed and lost their purchase as he rounded the turn, then found the grip of the road again and the car shot forward as if flung from a slingshot. Ray grabbed the dash and Mel made a little sound of distress in the back seat. The car vibrated beneath them as it churned up the gravel.

  The sign for Palm Beach Harbor flashed past as they shot through the gate, a sleepy guard barely moving from his nap as the engine woke him. Jaxon could see him standing in the guardhouse looking around not sure what had just happened. It didn’t matter. The police knew they were here and should be showing up themselves in a few minutes.

  Jaxon could see the water of the harbor up ahead and the stacks of containers on a huge cargo vessel looming above the warehouses to his left. Lights shone bright on the ship and a crane was moving crates and containers onto it even at this late hour.

  To the right was an abandoned section of the docks and if Jaxon was a betting man, he was sure that would be their destination. He turned the wheel slightly right and headed straight for it.

  Jaxon slammed on the brakes just before the Mustang launched itself off the dock into the bay, the car skidded to a stop, and they all jumped out.

  “Where?” Mel said.

  Gil pointed to the right.

  “It should be over there about fifty feet. We’re almost right on top of it.”

  Jaxon ran to the spot and stopped on the edge of the pier.

  The bay spread out before him with lights twinkling in the distance and the sound of the crane’s engine coming to his ears as it hoisted its burden on a thin thread of a cable, depositing it somewhere in the bowels of the only ship berthed at the moment.

  Beneath him in the water, five or six derelict cargo containers sat in the silt and trash of the bay, the water just brimming over the top of two and approaching the rim of the others. They bobbed in the high tide of the full moon and he cursed. She had to be in there.

  Which one though? They were running out of time.

  * * *

  Bethany clung to the piece of metal at the roof and thanked God for the light.

  The moon must have risen and when she saw its glow winking off and on through the crack in the roof, she cried. She would not have to die in the dark.

  The container rocked gently in the tide as the water continued to rise and she was certain it would cover her head this time. The moon was full and the tide would be at its apex tonight. There was no denying it. She would drown in this metal pit and no one would know she was here. Except the bastard who put her here.

  She pounded her fist on the roof in frustration as her teeth chattered from her fever and the chill water. She was determined to use her last bit of energy in defiance of whoever had done this to her. She had spent the last few hours in this world trying to figure out who, but it really didn’t matter now. She would never know, and even if she did, it would change nothing. The water was going to rise higher and her mouth was going to sink below its cool surface where she would finally drink of the moisture she so longed to feel on her tongue. Too bad it would be the last thing she felt.

  The water was at her neck and the panic began to rise in her throat like before.

  She took back her request to die alone now, and wished she had someone to comfort her along in this journey. Somebody to hold her hand. To tell her it would be all right and it would not hurt. That all the pain and suffering she had born out the last hours would be over. She wished for Danielle to be with her, but knew it would not be.

  A voice floated out of the gloom and she froze, unsure of what she was hearing. Had Danielle come to comfort her in her last minutes? Was she delirious from exhaustion? Who would be calling her name?

  “Bethany!”

  It was clear, now. No mistaking it.

  Her name was shouted from the lips of some woman and if Danielle were here, then it must be close. She shook her head, trying to clear it and heard her name again.

  “Bethany Hope! Where are you?”

  She cocked her ear. Could it be coming from the crack in the roof? She heard it again and was sure. It was outside. It was not Danielle!

  She pounded on the metal roof with her fist and shouted at the top of her lungs.

  “Here! Here! I’m in here!”

  Suddenly a great pounding could be heard on the roof and then a face appeared in the crack. A face she did not recognize. But she cried aloud anyway and yelled as loud as she could.

  “I’m here! I’m here! I’m here!”

  The face smiled and turned to someone else outside.

  “She’s here!”

  * * *

  Gil motioned to the top of the container he had jumped to and yelled, “She’s here!”

  Jaxon rushed over and jumped to join him. He could now hear a voice yelling and was elated to see a face in his flashlight beam on th
e other side of a rusted out section of the roof. The water was almost over her head. They had to hurry.

  “Bethany! Stay calm. We’re going to get you out of there. We’re right here.”

  “Hurry!” she said. “The water.”

  Jaxon looked around the roof and could see no way in. Gil was searching along the edge and yelled as he pointed.

  “It looks like the doors are here. But they’re under water.”

  Ray had joined them on the roof while Mel stayed on shore. Jaxon could hear sirens approaching. He went to where Gil was and looked over the edge.

  The surf sloshed along the top but he could see the levers that released the doors a few feet below the surface. He didn’t even think. He jumped in.

  The water was cool, and the surf was building as it tossed him against the container, painfully.

  He gagged a mouthful of water and choked as he sputtered and tried to tread water. He grabbed the side of the container and caught his breath.

  “Shine the light down here!” he yelled up to Ray who obliged.

  He dove down under the water, pulled himself to the door latch, and tried to release it. It moved a little but wouldn’t unlock completely. He grabbed the second one and it wouldn’t budge at all. It must be rusted shut. He surfaced and took a huge gulp of air.

  “Hurry!” Ray yelled. “She doesn’t have much time.”

  “I can’t get them open.”

  He dove down again and worked on the one lever that would wiggle, but it wouldn’t release. He felt along the length of it and discovered why. He surfaced again and reached his hand out. Ray pulled him up. He knelt on the roof as the water rose and said, “It’s got a padlock on it.”

  “Shit!”

  He nodded. He stood and went to the opening where Gil knelt and looked inside. The water was almost completely over her head. She had to tilt her face up and gulp breaths between the small wakes of the tide. She was panicking.