“Archie, I’m a woman. I’m not some ogre buddy of yours.”
“Right. So you’ll talk to me about this case while the kids eat lunch?”
“No, but I’ll give you two minutes standing right here.”
A trench formed between his eyes. “It takes me two minutes just to take a whiz in the ocean. That’s not enough time for us to brainstorm about this case.”
“A minute fifty-nine, fifty-eight.”
He held up both hands. “Okay, okay. Damn, you’re such a hard-ass.”
“One fifty-seven…”
He pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes slightly. “My jet ski excursion, it wasn’t about all fun and games. I was told by my source the other night that there’s this house where a lot of crazy shit goes on. I was trying to get a peek and hopefully take some pictures.”
“A party house. Why do you care about a party house?” I asked.
“Oh, I forgot to mention that part. That source from last night…he remembers seeing Kyle at that house a week ago.”
“Kyle…”
“Kyle Warren. Age twenty-two, but apparently he’s only a sophomore by the number of college hours he’s completed.”
“Five-year plan?”
“Eh, more like seven or even eight years at his pace.”
“Where does he go to school? Or, rather, where is his party headquarters where he pretends to go to school?”
Archie winked and pretended to fire a pistol with his finger. “Good one. He attends the University of Virginia.”
“A Cavalier. That’s not an easy school to get into. Might be the toughest state school in the country.”
“The real question is how he’s still enrolled. He’s been on academic probation for five straight semesters and during that time his GPA is under 1.0.”
“They go that low?”
“I once came through with a 0.7 average in a semester.”
“They didn’t forget one or two of your grades?”
“I wish they had. That might have gotten it above a 2.0.”
“I thought the CIA had a pretty rigorous standard in academics.”
“They do. My dad knew someone who knew someone else, and got my record expunged at Penn State. I then started over at Maryland. Because I graduated in four years—with honors, I might add—no one asked any questions about my time before then.”
A jet ski engine growled as it plowed through the water and scooted up the ramp nearby. I turned to watch a number of teens jumping off and high-fiving each other. One of the Parrot Rental employees jogged up the deck one level below us. “Hey, Mr. and Mrs., we need your vests back. Can you toss them down here?”
“He’s not my husband, believe me.”
“Sorry, I don’t know your names, Mom and Dad.”
I was pretty sure my eyes popped out of my head. “Kids with this guy?” I pointed at fro-man. “Are you fucking crazy?”
“Yo, chill, lady. It’s just a figure of speech.”
I could feel a flash of heat surge up my neck, and I bit the side of my cheek to restrain my response.
“I’ll show you mine if you will show me yours.” Archie had his hands on the clips of his life vest.
“You just creeped me out, Archie.”
“Come on, you two. We’ve got twenty people standing in line over there,” the teen said.
I heard a loud whistle over at the jet ski ramp. A guy with mirrored sunglasses and white sunblock on his nose yelled, “Time is money. Let’s move it.” He snapped his fingers. “Please, I don’t want to get fired. This is how I’m paying for tuition in the fall.”
I certainly didn’t want to halt the education of our children. I quickly unlatched the clips and tossed the vest over the railing. Archie did the same. I couldn’t help but look at Archie’s chest. He wasn’t in bad shape, but I quickly wondered if the cosmetologist had given him a two-for-one special on perms—his head and chest hair.
He whistled and rocked forward on his Tevas.
“Okay, this is awkward,” I said as a cool breeze brushed across my body just as a few clouds covered the sun. My one-piece bathing suit suddenly felt quite transparent.
“It shouldn’t be. We’ve been partners. Partners share everything, right?”
“Nick and I do.”
“Well, we were partners for a while.”
“True.”
“Good, because your headlights are showing.”
I balled up my fist and punched him right in the socket of his shoulder, then crossed my arms across my chest.
He winced and said with a pinched voice, “No one remembers seeing Kyle Warren leaving the party house that night.”
I turned my head and peered into Archie’s eyes.
“That makes no sense.”
“My source was there almost the entire time.”
“Are you sure this source is reliable? Maybe he’s got a stake in the crazy shit that goes on there.”
“He was helping cater the food. He sees a lot of freaky shit, especially during spring break. But he’s also got a family. He seems legit, at least so far.”
I cupped my hand over my eyes and scanned the rooftops of the homes lining the bay. I couldn’t see everything from my vantage point, given that the location of the dock was inside a channel of water. Over the years, South Padre had gone through various growth spurts, including high-rises on the beach side and custom luxury homes on the bay side. The architecture of these custom homes was unique and pricey—in the millions. And their owners? Many were either a member of the Northern Mexico elite or Texas yuppies who had just hit it big in some type of financial bubble, whether it was real estate, an IT startup, or the oil and gas industry.
“Not sure you can see it from here, which is why I took the scenic route,” Archie said.
“Moving at supersonic speed,” I said with a wry grin.
“Like I said, I like to take things—”
“I know, nice and easy. You sure you’re just not afraid of going fast?”
“I drive my sports car like a madman.”
“True, you know how to handle yourself behind a wheel. I’ll give you that much.”
“A compliment from Special Agent Alex Troutt,” he said, clapping his hands three times.
I ignored his childish response and turned to find the kids sucking down soda at the outdoor table. I slowly walked up the ramp, thinking through what Archie had relayed. He was shoulder to shoulder with me.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“As usual, lots of questions. Hopefully, if you ask about a hundred, one of them sticks and you’ve got an actual lead.”
“I guess I’m stuck on what the top one hundred questions are.”
“For starters, you need information…on a lot of people.”
He bumped my shoulder as he rushed up the ramp to an outdoor bar and asked to borrow a pen and paper. The lady gave him a napkin and a tiny pencil.
I paused next to Archie and waved at the kids. They seemed content. Luke’s legs were swaying under the plastic chair. Erin had on her chic sunglasses, watching the bustling business around her and the sun-drenched water beyond. Most importantly, they weren’t arguing with each other.
“Okay, hold on. This twig of a pencil is useless,” Archie said, glaring at it, as if that would make it grow bigger.
“Here, try this,” I said, grabbing a pen off the bar.
He tested it and broke a hole in the napkin after managing a few squiggles. “It works. Okay, you kick off the information we need.”
“You need,” I corrected him.
“Okay, you don’t want to join forces with me yet,” he said, grabbing a new napkin. “But you will. I’m a magnet. You won’t be able to stay away.”
“Want to bet on that?”
He dropped his pen to the napkin. “Fire away.”
I began to wonder if Archie had truly led an investigation or had instead gotten used to being nothing more than a cog in the CIA machine. As
a PI, he wouldn’t survive without the ability to walk through the scenarios with minimal help. For now, I’d give him a boost, but in the long run, I knew he’d have to learn how to walk and run on his own.
“Ma’am, can I get you and your husband a drink?”
I planted both hands on my hips and stared at the bartender. “What is it with you people? I’m not married to this guy. Never was, never will be. Sheesh.”
A waiter walked by and said, “If it’s any consolation, I thought he was your brother.”
I wasn’t sure which was worse—Archie being a blood relative or a spouse. I felt my body quiver at either thought.
“Can we just get back to your investigation? And by the way, I do realize you’ve used up your two minutes.”
He grinned like a kid who’d just fooled his teacher into extending recess.
I turned to the bartender. “By the way, I’ll take a mango margarita. I’m on vacation, right?”
“Coming right up. Oh, salt or no salt?” The bartender tossed a coaster down.
“The works,” I said. “Archie, you want anything?”
“Offering me a drink too? Must be my lucky day.” He turned to the bartender. “I’ll have the same fruity drink she’s having.”
I took in a breath of salty air and rested my forearms on the bar.
“Down to business here, Archie.” His eyes drifted to some of the women walking around the place in bikinis. I snapped my fingers and pointed at the napkin. “Time on task,” I said.
His pen touched the napkin. “Right. Hit me.”
“You first need to verify the story of your source. Go talk to the manager or owner of the catering company.”
“What if they clam up?”
“Then you know not to trust the catering company in general. If they are a legitimate business, then they’ll most likely share everything they know.”
I could see him writing out some type of chicken scratch on the napkin.
“Have you talked to his buddies yet?”
“I have calls out to three guys, two here on the island and one going to summer school at UVA.”
“You’ve got to talk to his two buddies. How long has it been since you called them?”
“Late last night.”
“Okay, not sure if they’re avoiding you or just sleeping off a night of partying. Either way, they don’t seem too concerned about Kyle’s well-being. But hopefully you can find out today.”
“Got it.” He quickly snatched another napkin and jotted down another note.
“Shouldn’t you have some type of detective notebook, for chrissakes?”
Archie stopped writing and opened his mouth.
My deductive mind was in the zone, so I kept going. “Of course, you need to know more about the house. Who owns it? Are they the ones holding the parties? By the way, what did the source say he witnessed at the parties?”
Archie leaned in closer. “Lots of drugs, group sex, light shows, nude modeling. He wasn’t sure everyone was of age, or if they were there of their own free will.”
“And the local cops haven’t tried to shut it down?”
“Apparently not. Maybe some of the local authorities were guests.” He shrugged his shoulders.
The theory sounded so ludicrous that it could be true. “Good thinking, Archie.”
He froze, then flipped his head back to me with a wide smile. “The second compliment in the last couple of minutes. We’re bonding, Alex. I can feel it.”
I rolled my eyes and pretended I didn’t hear him. “I can talk to my friend, Teresa, and ask if she knows who owns the house or anything about them. She’s lived here her entire life and runs a realtor business. I have a feeling she’s looped into the right contacts to pick up the gossip trail.”
The bartender delivered our drinks, and I slurped in a mouthful of the frozen mango drink.
“Nice,” I said.
Archie did the same. “I think we have similar tastes in our drinks too.”
I wasn’t sure what he was trying to prove, but it seemed forced, whatever it was.
I nodded at the napkin covered in blue ink. “I think that will get you moving in the right direction. Then you just need to keep pedaling.”
“Wait.” His eyes went to the corner of the outdoor deck where a seagull had wrapped its talons around the railing. “What about Kyle’s parents, Thaddeus and Winifred?”
“Good point. Never rule anyone out until the evidence does it for you, even if they’re the ones who hired you.”
“Right. Thaddeus is a former UVA grad. He might have pulled some strings to get his son accepted to the school and continued lining pockets or calling in favors to keep his son from being kicked out.”
“Not that rigging grades or committing academic fraud has anything to do with Kyle’s disappearance or this party house where he was last seen. But you’re right, Archie. You can’t get enough information. It will give you context, if nothing else.”
“Three times in a day, Alex.”
“You’re actually counting?”
He opened his mouth, but I cut him off. “Don’t answer that.”
Scratching his head, he mumbled something while he held up his flimsy napkin. “I’m not sure I have enough time in the next month to track down all this information.”
He did have a point. I was used to calling in my support team, which, in addition to my partner Nick, included Gretchen and Brad. Brad…hmmm. It was difficult to think of him in a purely professional manner, although he was pretty fricking good at his job.
“Archie, I know you’re hinting at me to help you out. I just can’t. I’m on vacation with the kids.”
“But you will talk to your friend, Teresa?”
I nodded as I started padding away with my drink in tow. I held up two fingers to my ear, mimicking his gesture the night before, and said, “I’ll call you.”
Before I could swing my head back around, two, three pops cracked the air. I let go of my drink and ran to the kids. Glass crashed all around me and screams bounced off the side of the building. Out of the corner of my eye, people dropped to the floor. Two more steps and I lunged over the table, hooking an arm around each of the kids. We all tumbled to the floor. I heard Luke moaning as I strained to hear any other shots.
But those popping sounds didn’t really seem like gunshots, I realized. I lifted my head and peered through the slats of the railing.
“Incoming!”
“What the—?”
Archie landed with a thud right on my back.
“I got you, all three of you. You’re fully protected,” he said.
“Get off us, Archie,” I groaned, trying to wiggle my arms free.
A second later, Erin and Luke crawled out from under me, but Archie had yet to find his balance.
“What is wrong with you?” I said, unable to turn my head.
“I don’t think those were bullets,” he said.
“I know that. Pretty sure it was one of the jet skis backfiring. What is that poking me in the ass?”
“That’s why I can’t get up.”
My whole body went flush. I turned my neck as far as I could twist it around and gritted my teeth. “If you don’t get your pecker off me, I’m going to—”
“Kid alert,” he said.
He was right. I couldn’t say what I wanted in front of Luke and Erin. Instead, I wrangled my body to free a leg, then kicked backward with my calf.
“Oooh!”
Bull’s-eye. I pushed him away from me, then scrambled over to the railing.
“Sorry, everyone,” the Parrot Rental employee with the white nose called out to the startled crowd. “Just a backfiring jet ski. We need to clean the seaweed out of the engines.”
I let myself exhale, then glanced around the place. The popping noises had brought me back to the shootout and the unknown reason behind it.
The kids waltzed up, and Archie limped behind them.
“I knew it was the jet ski all along,”
Erin said. “Holy shit, Mother, can’t everyone just chill and enjoy the island without freaking out over every little thing?”
I just stared at her, unsure what to say.
Archie made it to the railing. “That was completely unplanned back there you know.”
“I know,” I said, watching Luke talking to a parrot in a cage, seemingly unaffected by all the commotion. I bit into my cheek. “I need to make a call to the office. I want my team to look into a few things.”
“Like why those drive-by shooters seemed to be targeting your soon-to-be stepmom?”
I was shocked he’d noticed. “Carly is not going to be my stepmom. And yes, I need more information on her.”
“Cool,” he said. “Hey, while you’re on the horn with them, do you think you could ask them to do a couple of favors for my investigation about the missing kid?”
I knew Archie had an angle.
7
Chimes reverberated against the walls of his protective cocoon.
Kyle Warren’s first conscious breath sucked in a mouthful of dust—and something else. It was small, round, pliable. His gag reflex kicked in, and he spat the object into his hand. He could see nothing really, but he could guess.
A dead insect. No, a spider.
The spiders!
A lightning bolt of fear cracked the base of his skull and he nearly cried out. Pressing his lips together with everything he had, he somehow withstood the internal eruption, all of his appendages quivering uncontrollably for a few seconds. Tears coated his grimy face, but he zeroed in on the rhythmic thud inside his chest, doing anything within his power to calm his nerves, to control the only thing he could.
Opening his eyes again, he wedged his arms along the side of the box to reach his face, then wiped tears from his eyes. He tilted his head and attempted to see evidence of a tiny hole at the opposite end of the box. It took a good minute, but he was certain it was there. His only connection to the outside world. To oxygen.
Turning his head at a forty-five degree angle, he inhaled slowly with his lips just open at the edges, hoping to avoid more dust, and especially spider remnants.
Oh God. What the hell kind of crazy shit had he gotten himself into?
The Alex Troutt Thrillers: Books 4-6 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set Book 2) Page 6