by Matt Lincoln
The room was bigger than the one I had in Italy, and nicer as well. I could see the ocean from the window. The second floor wasn’t really high enough to get a decent view from, and the roofs of other buildings impeded most of the view of the beach, but it was a nice sight all the same.
Unlike the last hotel, this room had a small work desk as well as a bedside table, and even a coffee maker and some real glass cups. The bed was bigger too, and I felt mildly regretful that Gabriella hadn’t been able to come with us. There wasn’t really any reason for her to, of course. She was an Italian police officer, and our work in Italy was finished. Nevertheless, the thought of her caused me to feel a fresh pang of sadness.
I used one of the glasses to gulp down some water from the sink before heading back down into the lobby to meet with the rest of the agents.
Holm and Hills were already down there when I arrived.
“Chapman’s still talking to Gardner?” I asked as I walked up to where they were standing.
“Yep,” Hills replied as he looked up toward the stairs. “Oh, here he comes now.”
“Hey,” Chapman greeted us as he made it down into the lobby. “Just finished talking to Fi. She didn’t really have anything else to tell us, unfortunately. She did send the addresses she could find to the cops, though. They should be waiting for us now. She said that the one that looks most promising is the one on Coemer Drive. Apparently, he received mail in prison from that address.”
“Someone there is connected to him, then,” I replied as we all walked toward the entrance of the hotel. “Let’s see what they know.”
We elected to walk to the police station as well, since it was only about five minutes away. Grand Cayman Island, in total, was only about twenty-two miles from end to end. George Town was just one city, and it was feasibly possible for us to walk from one side to the other in very little time.
The George Town Police station was a long, pale-yellow building that actually didn’t look all that different from the hotel we were staying in. Unlike the hotel, however, the police station wasn’t all that much cooler on the inside than it was outside, probably due to the volume of people in there. The lobby just beyond the front door was just as packed, though. Three long lines led to each of the three reception windows. From the look, and sound, of it, most of the people inside were tourists, as evidenced by the girl at the front of the leftmost line hysterically telling the officer about how she’d lost her credit card and really, really needed help to find it.
“Wow,” Chapman muttered as he looked around the crowded lobby. “This might take a while.”
“Nah,” Hills replied plainly before stalking up to the front of one of the lines and leaning past the man standing there to speak to the officer at the window.
I suppressed a chuckle as I heard Chapman swear under his breath. Honestly, there wasn’t anything wrong with Hills’s action. As federal agents, generally, all we needed was to flash our badges to expedite things like this along. We usually tried not to be that rude about it, though.
The man who Hills had cut off shot him a dirty glare as we walked back toward us.
“He said Sergeant Leeland will be here in a second,” Hills informed us, completely ignoring the man’s angry look.
About a minute passed before a door at the end of the lobby opened, and someone stepped out. Judging from his uniform, which was different from the ones the officers in the windows were wearing, I assumed this must be the Sergeant we were told about.
I sighed impatiently when he was stopped before he could reach us by one of the other people in the lobby. I couldn’t hear what he said to her, only that he gestured toward one of the windows before excusing himself and walking past her.
“You must be the agents from the United States,” the man said as he came to a stop in front of us. “I’m Sergeant Leeland.”
“Agent Ethan Marston,” I introduced myself over the din of the crowd, then stepped aside so everyone else could introduce themselves as well.
“Why don’t we move somewhere a bit quieter?” Leeland suggested once all the formalities were out of the way.
He led us back through the door he’d appeared from. It led to a short and dark hallway, which in turn led to a different, quieter part of the station. There were doors along both sides of the walls, with little windows set into them. I could see an office through one of them, filled with cubicles. Through another, I spotted what looked like a classroom, with several young men and women sitting at rows of desks.
Must be some kind of academy, I thought to myself as we pressed on toward a staircase at the end of this hall.
“I’m sorry about the ruckus,” Leeland apologized as we made it up to the second floor. “There’s a festival on the beach today and tomorrow. Even though September usually isn’t a very busy month for us, we’ve got an influx of tourists coming in for it. A lot of picked pockets and petty thefts going on.”
“Is that normal around here?” I asked as he stopped in front of one of the doors up here. He opened it and led us into a very utilitarian office. Unlike Captain Vitale’s, which had been richly decorated like an old-fashioned study, this office was all business. A desk, computer, printer, a few simple plastic chairs, and a shelf filled with binders and filing folders.
The only personal-looking item in the entire place was a colorful crayon-drawing of two people surrounded by flowers that were taped to the wall behind his desk.
“I’m afraid so,” he replied as he took a seat behind his desk. As there were only two other chairs in the room, I elected to simply remain standing. “We don’t see a lot of crime here, and what does occur typically happens between locals. Most days, we deal with a lot of lost tourists, those who have misplaced items, or those unfortunate few that fall victim to some kind of scam or pickpocket. That’s why I was so surprised to hear that you suspected something as nefarious as drug smuggling was going on beneath our noses.
“It’s the perfect location, in a way,” Chapman replied. “You said yourself that you don’t see a lot of crime. No one would suspect that a group of smugglers would choose such a quiet and peaceful place as their hideaway.”
“Whatever the case may be,” Leeland frowned, “you have my full cooperation.”
I thought carefully about how I should respond to that. The man seemed sincere, but Sanchez had told us that they had an in with law enforcement in George Town. If Leeland was really on our side, then he would most likely want to know what one of his men was dirty. If he was crooked, then revealing that we knew about the contact would be showing our hand too early.
“I believe you,” I replied. I was good at reading people, and I trusted my instincts. I honestly believed that Leeland was genuine. “The thing is, we’ve spoken to a few of the pirates we’ve managed to capture so far. They told us that the reason they were so easily able to use George Town as a convenient stopping point between runs was that they had an arrangement with a police officer here.”
“He said what?” Leeland’s eyes shot open as his mouth fell into a horrified O-shape. It was clear from his reaction that the news shocked him, which only made me more confident that he wasn’t a part of it.
“Someone on your force is helping the pirates go undetected,” Hills chimed in.
“I-I can’t believe it,” Leeland stammered, his expression going from surprised to angry in the blink of an eye. “I won’t stand for this.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” I replied as I relaxed slightly, satisfied that I hadn’t made a mistake in revealing that bit of information to him. “Is there anyone you can think of that it might be? The address we have in mind as being the most likely to yield results is the one down on Coemer Drive. It could be an officer that routinely patrols that area.”
“My officers rotate their patrol routes,” he replied. “At least a dozen… I’ll get to the bottom of it, don’t worry. I won’t stand to have this going on in my station! But for now, back to the matter at hand. I’ve already disp
atched officers to all the addresses we were sent by your office. You said the one on Coemer Drive was the one you were most interested in?”
He rummaged through some papers on his desk before picking up his phone.
“For now, yes,” I replied. “We think someone there might have a connection to him.”
“Officers Nolan and Warner are there now,” he informed us. “I wanted to make sure I had eyes on those places in case something happened before you arrived. I’ll call them and let them know you’re on your way. We’ve already secured warrants for you to search the houses as well.”
“Thank you,” I replied, then waited as he made the call to the officers. Once he got off the phone, he immediately called someone else and instructed them to come to his office.
“I’m assigning Officer Todd Burke to accompany you,” he explained as he set the phone back down. “He knows the area well, and he’s a trusted friend of mine. Whoever’s helping to cover for the pirates, I know it isn’t him.”
I hoped he was right. I couldn’t remember the number of times a friend or family member of a suspect had claimed that there was no way their loved one could have done something like that. You never really knew what a person was hiding, after all.
Less than a minute later, a thin man with bushy blond hair and a stern, stony face stepped through the doorway.
“Hi, Todd,” Leeland greeted him. “These are the agents working the pirate case. I’d like you to assist them while they’re in George Town.”
“Of course.” Burke nodded slightly before turning to look at us. “Nice to meet you, Officer Todd Burke. You can call me Todd.”
“Agent Ethan Marston,” I replied as we all went through our introductions again.
“Nice to meet you,” Burke replied once everyone was finished. “So, where are we starting with this?”
“House down on Coemer Drive,” I replied. “We think that’s our best bet right now.”
“Great,” Burke replied simply. “Let’s get moving then.”
“Good luck,” Leeland told us as we all prepared to leave. “Please call me if there is anything else that you need.”
“Will do,” I replied as we all stepped back out into the hallway, down the stairs, and toward the front of the building again.
“I’m glad to get out of here for a while,” Burke stated as we stepped back out into the sun, the heat instantly prickling against my skin. “I could use a little fresh air and sunshine after being cooped up in there all day.”
The guy seemed nice, if a little robotic, in his speech. He was no Gabriella, though. I forcefully pushed that thought from my mind before it could take shape.
You just met her, I yelled at myself, and you only knew her for a few days.
There were more pressing matters at hand for me to focus on than some small, fleeting crush or whatever it was that had gone on between us. I tamped feeling down and told myself to focus on the mission at hand.
28
Ethan
The two officers that Leeland had told us about were waiting by their patrol car when we arrived. They were a block away from the house, partially obscured behind a wall and one of the squat palm trees. I imagined that from the house, the white of the patrol car would have just blended into the white of the houses next to it. From here, they could just see through to the front door of the house.
“Nolan, Warner,” Burke greeted the two men with a nod as we got out of the car and walked up to them.
“The Sergeant told us you were coming,” the shorter of the two men replied before turning to eye us curiously. “No one’s been in or out of the house since we got here a few hours ago.”
“Probably,” the other man snickered as he shot his partner a disapproving look.
“What do you mean ‘probably’?” Burke asked warily.
“He fell asleep,” the taller man scoffed. “I went to get us some coffee, and he was snoring when I got back.”
“Seriously, Nolan?” Burke glared at the shorter man angrily.
“It was like ten minutes!” Nolan argued as his gaze flitted between the two other officers. “I’ve been on call for almost forty-eight hours now! Warner was falling asleep too! Why do you think he went to get us coffee?”
“Hey!” Warner protested, his eyebrows scrunching together with annoyance. “I’m not the one who was asleep in an unlocked patrol car--”
“Fine,” Burke cut him off before the two could bicker any further. “Whatever, there’s no point in arguing about it now. You said no one went in or out when you were actually watching, right?”
“Yeah,” Nolan mumbled sheepishly.
“That’s the info we’ll go off of, then,” Burke muttered. “What else do we know about this house in particular? Who’s the homeowner?
“Melanie Vale,” Nolan replied. “Widow. Her husband died in a boating accident over a decade ago. The house was put in her name after that.”
“Any other residents?” Burke asked.
“None listed officially,” Nolan replied with a shrug.
“Great.” Burke sighed as he turned to the other agents and me. “Let’s go.”
We followed him between the two houses and across the street to where the house was. It was cute, painted baby blue with a slate gray roof and flowers growing in the garden. It definitely did not look like the home of a dangerous drug smuggler and blood-thirsty pirate, but, again, looks could be deceiving.
“I’m sorry about that,” Burke muttered as we walked up to the short flight of steps that led to the front door. “I assure you that the George Town police force is not all that inept. Please don’t get the wrong impression because of those two.”
“Don’t worry,” I replied dismissively. “Happens to the best of us.”
The truth was that I was extremely wary of every George Town police officer right now, including Burke. At least one of them was in league with the pirates, and until we determined who it was, we couldn’t be too careful.
“Why don't two of us stay outside?” Holm suggested as I reached up to knock on the door. “Just in case something happens?”
“That’s a good idea,” I replied. “Someone should go around the back, too. Keep watch in case anyone tries to make a break for it.”
“I’m on it,” Chapman replied before taking off around the back of the house.
Once he was gone, I reached up again before knocking on the door three times.
“Who is it?” someone called a few seconds later. It sounded like an older woman, and her voice was shaky and high-pitched.
“Police!” Burke replied loudly before I could even open my mouth to respond. It was just as well since trying to explain what MBLIS was through a closed-door might be challenging.
There was a shuffling and the sound of metal being unlocked before the door opened just a few inches. A small woman with gray-streaked hair peeked out, her watery eyes nervous as she stared up at us.
“How can I help you?” she asked, her voice meek.
“We’re looking for Jorge Velasquez,” I replied. Her eyes widened at the name, just a fraction, but it was enough for me to notice.
“Th-there’s no one here by that name!” she stuttered, her voice shaking as she spoke. “Please go away!” She attempted to slam the door closed, but I stuck my hand out and stopped her before she could completely shut it.
“Ma’am, we need to come inside,” I told her calmly. We had a warrant, so whether she liked it or not, we weren’t about to just leave.
“No!” she yelped. “Go away! Go away, or I’ll…” Her voice trailed off as she bit her lip.
“You’ll what? Call the police?” Burke asked as he pushed the door further open, hard enough to startle the woman into jumping backward.
“How dare you!” she gasped as we quickly stepped into the house. “That was assault! You can’t do this!”
“Ma’am, we have a warrant,” I calmly explained again as Burke pulled a slip of paper out of his breast pocket and hand
ed it to her. “This would all go so much quicker if you’d be so kind as to cooperate with us. We don’t want to be here any longer than we have to.”
It felt a little wrong to be pushing around an old lady like this, but I could tell from the way she’d reacted and suddenly become defensive at hearing Velasquez’s name that she was hiding something. Plus, we had a warrant.
“F-fine then,” she stammered as she looked toward the back of the house nervously before looking at us. “Why don’t we have a seat here in the living room? We can talk about whatever you want.”
“Is there someone else in the house?” I asked as I peered in the direction she had turned just now. It led into the kitchen, and from what I could see from this angle, a hallway that veered off to the left.
“No!” she replied, a little too quickly, in my opinion. “It’s just me. I live all alone. My two sons never come to see me anymore, so it’s just me here.”
“Your sons?” I interrupted her nervous babbling.
She went white, her jaw dropping open slightly as though she’d suddenly realized she’d said something she hadn’t meant to.
“What are your sons’ names, Ms. Vale?”
Vale, I turned the name around in my head as I spoke it out loud. It sure sounds similar to the beginning of Velasquez.
“I… um, that’s…” the woman blubbered nonsensically. Before she could form a coherent sentence, a loud thud resounded from somewhere inside the house. Hills, Burke, and I all froze for a split second before turning toward the source of the noise.
“I thought you said there was no one else--” Burke turned back to look at Mrs. Vale, but before he could finish his question, she knocked him over the head with a baseball bat.
It all happened so fast that it took my brain a moment to register everything that had happened in those few seconds. An umbrella stand by the door was knocked over, its contents scattered across the ground. That must have been where she’d pulled the bat from, in the exact moment that we’d all turned to look toward where the thud had come from. She hadn’t hesitated at all in striking Burk, who now collapsed on the ground, a pool of blood steadily growing around the top of his head like a morose halo.