Caribbean Rain

by Rick Murcer

  He looked at Sophie, and she puckered her brow.

  “Who put the damn thing in the room?” asked Sophie.

  “That’s the one. It could mean connecting Fogerty with some criminal intent. We’ll see if we can get a security shot of anyone going into the room, in the morning,” said Manny.

  “Good idea, but my bet is that it was an employee, or an employee who conveniently lost his keys, or some shit like that,” said Sophie.

  “Sounds like a good theory, but I’m tired of those today. I’m going back to bed,” said Josh.

  “Okay. Let’s pick this up in the morning. I’ll call security and make sure the animal gets sent to the lab, and they’ll want to clean this room up,” said Manny.

  Dean folded his hands together and glanced at Sophie. “Well, if you want, you can take my bed and I’ll sleep on the floor, unless you need me to hold you. You know, because of how traumatic the night’s been?” offered Dean.

  Rolling her eyes, Sophie looked at Dean. “Don’t be stealing my lines, Mucus.”

  “It’s Mikus.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. No worries there. Williams is going to give me the key to his room, right after he checks it out for mangy-ass critters, so I can get some beauty sleep. But it was a nice first shot.”

  “I’m a little hurt,” said Josh. “Does that mean the thrill is gone?”

  “Never gone, just trying to control myself, but . . .”

  “You can have the key, but I’ll need a place to crash, and soon,” said Manny. “The problem is that the manager said the hotel is full.”

  Glancing at Chloe, then back to Manny, Sophie raised her hands to the ceiling. “Damn Williams, you really don’t get it sometimes, do you? I’m going to bed. Figure it out.”

  “Me too. Tired don’t cover it,” said Alex. “And she’s right. Figure it out.”

  Manny handed Sophie his key and watched as the others left the room behind her, leaving Chloe and him alone. She slipped her hand in his and led him into the hall.

  “I’ll take care of the room part,” said Chloe. “You can bunk with me, don’t ya know?”

  He pulled at the collar of his shirt. It was definitely getting warmer.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I’ve been thinking about you way more than I should, and I’m only human.”

  “That’s always good to hear, especially the human part,” she whispered.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him gently, then again, with more purpose. Much more. For a moment, however short, he let himself go, falling deep into the essence that was Chloe Franson, God’s gift to him. The kiss was—brilliant. He scrambled for control, and for the first time since he’d met her, had none. He scooped her up and headed for her room.

  “Why Mr. Williams, whatever are you doing?” she laughed.

  Manny didn’t answer because he didn’t know what he was doing. He only knew that he wanted her, in every way. Not just the physical—God knew that was overpoweringly true— but the intimacy. It was the final step in making a relationship what it should be: permanent.

  Why Mr. Williams, whatever are you doing?

  The question ran around in his head even as he pushed the door open and laid Chloe on the bed. He bent over her and kissed her like men in love should. But it wasn’t just love. The desire for her was somewhere between a roaring fire and a super nova.

  Opening her robe, he saw that she was wearing a short, white negligee that shadowed her curves in such detail that it forced him to take another hungry look. He couldn’t help himself and didn’t want to.

  He cupped her breast and heard the accompanying moan, as she unbuttoned his shirt. The sound cheered him on like the crowd at Comerica Park rooting on the Tigers. He kissed her again and again. Small little butterfly kisses that raised the temperature even higher and caused Chloe’s cheeks to burn red.

  A moment later, she spoke to him, softly, lovingly. “Manny?” she breathed. “Is this what you want? God knows ya can have me, you always could, but I love you and don’t want any regrets.”

  Her words struck home. Not just the “rethink this” part, but the fact she was willing to give up what she really wanted—for him. To make sure this wasn’t going to be something he’d regret.

  Maybe he would have gotten there on his own, maybe not. Doubt clouded his thoughts as he stared at Chloe. She was so beautiful and was in need, but doing the right thing, at least sometimes, carried a deep cost. He was about to indulge in that conundrum.

  “You’re right. This has to be perfect and I would regret it tomorrow, mostly.”

  “My mum would think her daughter crazy. I finally have you where I’ve been dreaming about for two years, and I spoil the moment. You must be rubbing off on me, Agent Williams.”

  “Good thing, I don’t know if I could have stopped,” he sighed.

  It was Chloe’s turn to sigh as she ran her hand through the hair on his chest. “You better make me an honest woman soon, or I just might go mad.”

  Flopping over to the other side of the bed, he grinned. “I’m going to need a cold shower, but it’ll be a minute before I can stand up.”

  She laughed and poked him, then laughed again. “I’ll go with ya.”

  Her laughter forced the idea he’d had, just before they’d left Cleveland, to come roaring back. He reached for the phonebook on the desk, thumbed through, and tore out the page.

  “What are ya doing?”

  “What I should have done three months ago.”

  Pulling out the cell phone in his pocket, he dialed the first number on the page and waited for an answer.

  Chapter-42

  Braxton rolled down the window of the limo, feeling the warm Puerto Rican night caress his face. It was late, but it was part of the job, and he didn’t actually mind being away from the boss for a few hours. The man was crazy, but so was he.

  He turned his focus on the front of the hotel and strained to see what he needed to.

  It seemed his work was never done, but it would be soon, then maybe he’d get some real sleep. But then again, he wasn’t paid to sleep, just to take care of what he was told to take care of. Something he was damned good at, always had been. He grinned a toothy grin.

  Ask Agent Williams and his sad sack group of friends.

  Agent Williams.

  The white boy had touched the boss. That was never supposed to happen under Braxton’s watch, even when the boss made decisions that put him at risk. His grip grew tighter on the door handle. He heard it groan.

  No one was to get into Fogerty’s shit unless they’d gone through him first. He hated that he’d not been able to stop the FBI wimp from doing what he’d done. In all of his years at taking care of the boss, that hadn’t happened. The silver handle gave way. He hardly noticed. That couldn’t happen again. Years of training had led him here, and another mistake like that would cost him his life.

  The door of the hotel spun open and his contact walked out, smoking a cigarette and casually blowing the smoke into an endless, starry sky. A moment later, he scanned in the limo’s direction and nodded. Then he flicked the smoke onto the cobbled brick street, reached inside his pocket, and pulled out a cell.

  Braxton’s phone vibrated and he answered.

  “Done, mon?”

  “It is.”

  Braxton snapped the phone shut. He resisted any temptation to smile, for now. But the message had been sent, and that was all that mattered. The results weren’t even really important. He wondered if the agent was covered with bites. Who knew, maybe the mongoose had torn his throat out, and the man lay bleeding to death.

  There was tinge of disappointment at that thought. If anyone tore out Williams’s throat, he wanted to be there. But most likely, the FBI prick had been bitten a time or two and would have to go through all of those shots, and they hurt—he was aware of that pain.

  The phone rang again. “Yes?”

  “We just got the call. The animal’s dead. Killed by that fem
ale agent, Lee. No one was harmed, but they’re pretty pissed. Rumor has it they think it was Fogerty.”

  “Lee?”

  “Yes. They switched rooms.”

  He released a long, deep belly laugh. “A wom’n sav’d his ass?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “And dey tink we had something to do wid it?”

  “That’s the rumor.”

  He laughed again."Good. Dat’s what da boss wanted.”

  For the second time, he flipped the phone closed, then for good measure, reached his long arm out through the window and tossed the phone over the roof into the bay.

  Waiting another minute, he motioned for the driver to roll. It was time for sleep because the next day was going to be a big one. The boss had said so.

  He was also relieved. Williams was unharmed and that made his night. He’d be there personally the next time, and things would be different.

  Who said there is no God?

  Chapter-43

  He handed the sealed box to the young man seated on the old bicycle and stuffed the twenty dollar bill in his shirt.

  “You know what to do? Si?” he asked.

  “You just want me to leave it on that bench in Ocean Beach and take off, and not look back. I got it, Señor.”

  The youth hurried off, and he climbed into his SUV and entered the ramp leading to Highway 26 East.

  Phase one of the day was accomplished, and it was only 6:30 a.m.

  Despite his dark glasses, the bright Puerto Rican sun was dazzling heading east, not to mention warm and comforting. But he’d consider those things in a few days. Today was today, and it'd take care of itself, with his help. He’d be in El Yunque a few minutes after he crossed the Highway 66 detour and then begin the next act of this play.

  I can hardly wait.

  As he surged into the passing lane, Anna’s words came back to him, at least some of them, and, of course, she was right. He did look forward to this part. And why not? You can’t make a cake without breaking some eggs. The thing is, he’d never enjoyed cake like this.

  Fifteen minutes later, he turned at mile marker 191, wound through the village’s narrow streets, and began his assent up the north side of the mountain. A bright-green iguana scurried across the uneven pavement, and he barely missed it. Maybe he shouldn’t have. The population was going crazy, but that wasn’t really their fault, was it? Man continued to scramble the delicate balance nature had managed to maintain for thousands of years. Experts, like him, were right: humans were the biggest threat to their very own extinction.

  Rolling past the Visitors Center, he climbed toward his destination. The excitement nudged his mind, and he could hardly control his anticipation.

  Cake.

  Winding past Coco Falls, glancing at the stunning water-on-rock display, he drove a few more minutes, finally reaching the La Mina Trail. He parked on the east side of the road, facing north, heading back down the mountain. He left the keys on the floorboard and the door unlocked, slinging the backpack over his shoulder. This wouldn’t take too long, unless he wanted it to.

  As he reached the head of the four-by-four steps, the rainforest’s sounds and smells embraced him like a lost lover. The birds talking in the green canopy and the waterfall’s echo combined to form the most remarkable natural orchestra. But the hikers had ruined all of this for him, hadn’t they?

  Bad timing for my mother.

  That’s what the authorities had said, more than once: “Unfortunate, but there was no crime, just an accident, and you have our condolences.”

  Tell that to your mother, whispered the furious voice in his mind.

  He swung down the steps, like he had a thousand times before, but faster. Five minutes later, he heard what he was hoping to hear: voices. But not just any voices. If the paper had been accurate, there would be four members of San Juan’s travel counsel camping in one of the small rest huts about forty yards away from the steps to the south. It was something they repeated every quarter, under the guise of showing the island their dedication to making things better.

  “But they are making it worse,” he whispered.

  His hands clenched as he veered from the trail, honing in on the voices. A moment later, he saw one of them, half dressed and doing a sponge bath on his fat, sagging body. He’d seen women with smaller tits, much smaller.

  Pulling the Katana from the sword sheath on the inside of his khakis, he moved quickly.

  In another life, he might have known this man’s name, but then again, in another life, he would have cared.

  The world is your oyster, take it!

  He did. The first swing of the blade connected just under the jaw as his target turned in his direction. There was a moment of recognition in his eyes, then it was gone, along with his head.

  Moving on pure instinct, he reached the back of the small lean-to and saw two others. A moment later, ruffled sleeping bags were covered in lines of blood as the heads of the dark-skinned man and the thin woman rested near the small fire pit, facing each other, but never seeing.

  “Julio? Katrina? ¿Qué pasa?”

  The thirty-something woman crept around the corner, wearing a look of caution and a red towel around her head.

  She blinked at the carnage on the floor of the hut, then slowly raised her eyes in his direction. Her mouth had dropped open as in a ridiculous cartoon.

  Too easy. Three strides later, just as she spoke his name, it was over. Her fate sealed, just as the others had been.

  His heart rate was somewhere near two hundred, his body quivering with pure adrenaline. Each time had been better than the last, no denying that now. Better for his mistress, no doubt, but better for him too.

  Closing his eyes, he relived everything in his mind’s eye. The looks on their faces, the feel of the blade on flesh and bone, the smell of blood and rainforest as they mingled eternally.

  The bulge in his slacks confirmed his state of mind. But as difficult as it was, that would have to wait this time. Survival was still the name of the game, and he had no time to waste.

  Still . . .

  Bringing out his camera, he recorded the scene for future indulgence.

  Moments later, he wiped at the blood sprayed across his shirt, cleaned his sunglasses on the red towel, then finished making the murder scene his.

  Six minutes later, after snapping a few more pictures, he was back on the trail.

  He stopped at the edge of the steps, some ten feet below the entrance to the trail. He scanned the parking lot and the area leading to his SUV equipped with stolen plates. He saw no one. Then again, he hadn’t expected to. It was still only seven fourteen a.m. and his island wasn’t one for early risers, especially on the weekend. Still, he used caution. He was too close to fail now.

  Two minutes later, fresh shirt on his back and the Katana under the seat, he stepped into the vehicle and was driving down the mountain.

  It was simply a matter of time before their bodies were discovered, and his plan could move forward. He looked at the clock on the dash and wondered if the SJPD and the Feds had gotten his gift.

  Grinning, he thought they had.

  Chapter-44

  Manny waited in the lobby for Chloe and the others. It was still early, but he was up anyway, checking for messages.

  Looking at the picture of Jen on his phone reminded him that he hadn’t talked to his daughter since early yesterday, a rarity for them since Louise had died. He could count on his hand how often that had happened. Maybe it was a sign that they were moving forward. He hoped so. Maybe last night was too. He prayed moving forward didn’t mean giving up the relationship Jen and he had developed.

  He called, and her voicemail came on immediately. Her voice was sounding more like her mother’s every day. He was okay with that, most days.

  “Just checking in, honey. I love you. Call when you get some time. Oh yeah, no snow storm here. How does eighty-two degrees sound to you?” Then he laughed and clicked off the phone. Nothing like
a jab to the young one once in a while.

  His smile faded to a contented half-grin. She was a good kid. She’d be proud of him for not falling on his moral compass last night. Not that they’d talk about that anytime soon, but they would.

  Last night. That had been close, far too close for a man who’d made promises to his daughter, and more importantly, to his God. Chloe had been the voice of reason. He loved her even more for it.

  He’d left Chloe’s room and come down to the desk to see if the hotel had been totally sold out, as the clerk had indicated. He had been in luck. The clerk, George, said it wasn’t entirely true. They always held a bank of rooms aside in the event there was a problem. He said a rabid mongoose qualified.

  Manny had gotten a few hours sleep—enough—and that’s where the rubber hit the road.

  Glancing at his phone again, he saw that he still had no responses from any of the five calls he’d made from Chloe’s room. Disappointing, but it was still early, and he was hopeful.

  Standing at the base of the double spiral stairs, he watched the other hotel guests head to the restaurant, guided by the enticing aroma swirling from the hot breakfast buffet. It caused his stomach to rumble. They hadn’t really eaten since yesterday on the jet, and it suddenly struck him just how famished he really was.

  Needing to get his mind off food until the others put in an appearance, he scanned the lobby for something to do. That’s when he noticed the pretty young woman sitting at the concierge’s desk, twirling her long, black, curly hair, studying the computer screen. He was struck with the thought that she could help him maybe. These folks always knew more about the local scene then he’d ever learn. It was worth a shot.

  “Hello. I was wondering if you could help me?”

  The young lady looked up, did a brief double take, and smiled one of those engaging grins that forces one to smile back.