Echoes From The Water: (A Dangerous Waters Thriller Series: Book One)

by David Banner

  We sat like that for a while before ever saying a word. Sometimes there's comfort in the quietness of another person. To just sit across from them and know they're there and that you don't have to say the words out loud. It made her feel a little safer, a little less hurt. At least, I thought it did.

  "Okay,” Hope said coming into the room and plopping herself down on the floor next to us.

  She dropped a stack of papers out in front of her, fanning them across the floor. There were maps, documents, land deeds, financial information, and photos. They were all mixed together in what looked like no real order. "From what I can tell so far, these are the most important pieces of the puzzle,” she said.

  "What puzzle?" I asked. "What is all of this?"

  "This is everything from Johnathon Hall’s server. Apparently he's the mayor’s son,” she said.

  "Yeah," I said. "They told me that."

  "Well,” she said. "His other son is Patrick Hall, district attorney for Anna Maria Island. Which I guess explains how he was able to broker you a deal on the spot like that."

  "That makes sense,” I said.

  "And you were right about him knowing your parents too,” she said.

  "Really?" I said, sitting up straight in the bed and causing a bolt of pain to shoot across my head.

  "Yeah," she said. "I'm just not sure how though."

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "Well, I found some papers with both Mayor Hall and Thomas Water's signature on them,” she said.

  "What kind of papers?" I asked.

  "Sale papers,” she said. "For the house, the one on the island."

  "The mayor sold my parents that house?" I asked.

  "No," she replied. "That’s the thing. Your parents were the ones who sold it."

  "Wait... What?" I asked. "Then how did I come to inherit it?"

  "You didn't. At least not as far as I can tell. Not legally. Your parents hadn't owned that house in almost fifteen years,” she said. "Except there was just one small problem."

  "What?" I asked.

  "The paperwork never got finished, so until your parents were declared dead the house was stuck in some kind of legal limbo,” she said. "It’s like the house was sold, but the land it sits on wasn't. It doesn't make sense really...."

  "What's going on?" Rachel spoke up.

  "I don't know,” Hope said. "But I know whatever it was started with that house."

  "There were two cars there,” I said. "At least I think there were. Whenever I was in that van I thought I saw cars in the driveway, but I couldn't be sure."

  "Stands to reason that if this house is as important as I think it is there would still be some activity there,” she said.

  "I guess..." I muttered.

  "See. Look at this," she said, pulling three photos out from the pile. "These are satellite images of Anna Maria Island from the last year. In two of them there's a car in that driveway. If no one lived there then why are people going into it?"

  "I don't know,” I said.

  "Right," she replied. "But that’s what we have to figure out."

  "How?" I said.

  "Rachel,” Hope said.

  "Me?" Rachel replied.

  "We need someone to go there. But they'll be looking for me and they'll be looking for Brandon,” Hope said. "But you could maybe pass by unseen."

  "I won't know what I'm looking for,” Rachel said.

  "I'll be with you the whole time,” Hope assured her. "You'll be outfitted with an earpiece and a camera. I'll have eyes and ears on you the whole time. We just need to know what’s in that house."

  Rachel sat quiet for a long minute, looking over at me. Her eyes traced the cut on my head and wounds on my back. It pained her to see me this way, I could see it in her eyes. Almost as if she felt responsible somehow, though the thought of that was crazy. This had nothing to do with her. It was me, I was the one at fault. I was the one who dragged her across the state of Florida to assist a known fugitive, the one who made her promise to go out of her way and visit a jail every day.

  It wasn't what I set out to do, but I had become another cross for her to bear, another weight on her life and I couldn't let that continue. She didn't need this, she deserved something better, someone who could give her the quiet peaceful kind of life she needed. And with every passing day I became farther and farther from that person.

  "Absolutely not!" I said.

  "I'm a grown-ass woman and I'll make my own decisions, thank you,” she said, standing up from the bed.

  "You can't get involved in this. Its not right. Go home, stay away from me. Its not safe for you,” I said. "Rachel. No!"

  "I'm tired of playing the victim card in the world!" Rachel said. "I spent years not fighting for myself, but I know better than to make that mistake again!"

  "Rachel, no!" I slammed my hand against the bed. "I won't let you go!"

  "Try and stop me,” she said walking out the door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I WOKE TO FIND RACHEL ASLEEP BESIDE ME. She had somehow managed to wedge herself between the small cot and the wall without me even waking up. It was rare that I woke up before her. No matter if I had spent the night on her boathouse or if she had fallen asleep in my bed, she always woke up before I did. But not today.

  There was a strangeness in watching someone sleep. The fact that they're unconscious next to you seems to create a level of familiarity that runs a little deeper than just speaking with them. Somehow it always felt more intimate to me, more emotional.

  I had just always tried my best to never let things with anyone get that far. I tried to keep myself closed off and more than a little distant. It happened that way after my parents’ disappearance. I couldn’t be sure if it was because I was afraid of being left alone again or if it was because I was afraid that my falling so hard for someone would leave my brother alone. Which is the thing I promised myself I would never do.

  "Sleep well?" she said softly, not opening her eyes.

  "Well enough,” I said.

  "I'm sorry..." she said.

  Rachel had been distant with me for the past couple of days. She tried to say that it was just because she didn't have much time, that Hope was keeping her busy learning about how to go unnoticed and how to blend in. That she was trying to get comfortable learning to use the camera and the earpiece. But it was obvious she was working through something.

  "For what?" I asked.

  "For not really talking to you much these last days, for yelling at you..." she said, looking over at me.

  "It's fine.” I ran my fingers through her hair. "You don’t owe me an apology for trying to help. But you don't have to do this. I don't want you endangering your life for me."

  "I'm not doing this for you,” she said. "I'm doing it for me."

  "Thanks..." I said.

  "No," she said. "I want to do something. Not just sit around watching other people do things. And if I can help someone I care about in the process. Well then, all the better..."

  "I just don't like the thought of endangering more people’s lives,” I said. "The thought of bringing more people into this mess I've made for myself."

  "I'm already involved,” she said. "Besides, how dangerous could it be?"

  "You sound like me,” I said.

  "Good." She slid her fingers across my chest. "I'm tired of sounding like me."

  We stayed there like that for what must have been two hours, not really saying or doing anything. I was just there beside her, listening to her breathe out as I breathed in. It was quiet and easy, the same way I thought of Florida and the waves, save for the last week of course. And, for just the most fleeting of moments I pictured myself with her, years from now on the sand of a beach.

  "You two gonna make this thing happen or not?" Hope said walking into the small bedroom.

  "What?" I asked.

  "Ya know..." she said. "I mean, I've been listening at the door for like an hour. Either you two are the quietest pe
ople in the world or you've just been lying in this bed listening to one another breathe."

  "Actually," I said. "That’s kinda exactly what we were doing."

  "Aww..." She rolled her eyes. "Ain't that sweet. But if you're not gonna try and teach my girl here something new I guess I will."

  "What...?” Rachel chuckled.

  "C'mon, babe,” Hope snapped a finger. "I'm gonna teach you how to grab a guy by the balls."

  "How many ways could there possibly be to do that?" I said.

  "Lots!" Hope smiled wide. "I just happen to know the best one."

  For the first time since waking up in that little room I actually felt okay. I guess the medicines combined with Rachel’s nursing skills had done their jobs. Slowly standing and sliding on my jeans I made my way over to the mirror. I turned to look at my back, it was healing and so was my head. My burns had started to grow new skin and the gash on my head had almost completely closed. For the first time in almost a week I felt okay.

  I made my way through the living room and out the front door. The Florida sun was warm on my skin as the thick wet everglades air washed over me. A few yards out in front of me Rachel and Hope were practicing hand-to-hand combat, with Rachel throwing a kick and Hope easily batting it away. Rachel would stumble and Hope would catch her, their laughs echoed across the wet ground, bouncing off of the small cabin. I smiled watching the two of them.

  I had never really given it much thought until then, but somehow I doubted Rachel had very many girlfriends, or for that matter; friends of any kind. I had never heard her mention going out with anyone, even a friend. It was good to see her like this, she seemed a freer, lighter.

  "Okay..." Hope said a short while later. "We're ready."

  "We are?" I asked.

  "We are,” Rachel replied.

  "So," Hope said. "Here's the plan. We're gonna send baby girl here into the house as though you're an interested buyer. You'll go by the name Amanda Wright. You're a snowbird, down from Tennessee and looking for a warm place to spend the winter."

  "Okay..." Rachel said.

  "Yup." Hope smiled wide. "You're our new Girl-Friday. I have a blueprint of the house. Once you get inside I'll guide you through. We're gonna need as many photos as possible so you'll really have to turn on the charm. Talk to anyone and everyone you can. We just need to see who's there, to see what’s happening."

  "What kind of nefarious information do you think you'll find at an abandoned house?" I asked.

  "I don't know,” Hope said. "But it'll get us in the door without putting Rachel in danger. And at the moment, that’s something."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  "O KAY," HOPE SAID ALOUD LOOKING INTO THE COMPUTER SCREEN. "We've got eyes."

  "Okay," Rachel said. "It doesn't look like anyone's here. I don't see any cars."

  Hope and I had stayed behind in the small cabin, hidden deep in the everglades while Rachel drove up to Anna Maria Island to investigate the house. We were watching her movements through a small camera Hope pinned to her chest.

  "Try going in from the side door, it’s a little more hidden,” Hope said.

  "Alright," Rachel said, as we watched her walk up the driveway and around the side of the house.

  Having only been to the house once and then immediately fleeing, I hadn't had the chance to go around the back. There was a small pool, lounge chairs, and a stone barbeque pit. Beautiful Florida palms lined the privacy fence and in the far corner sat a little bench. Had it not been for the murder, it would have been a lovely home, I had to admit.

  "Okay," Rachel said, jiggling the door handle. "It's locked."

  "You got this, babe," Hope said into the microphone. "Just remember what I taught you. Listen for the click and wait for the resistance."

  Hope pulled a small pin from what I had to assume was her hair, but due to the positioning of the camera I couldn't really tell. After a few minutes of failed attempts she finally managed to unlock the door and head inside.

  "Good thing there's no alarm,” I said.

  "It’s a small island off the coast of Florida, its generally pretty safe." Hope looked to me.

  "Not if we keep showing up,” I said.

  She looked back at me and smiled. It was slow and maybe lasted a few seconds too long, as though she wanted to tell me something but changed her mind at the last second. "What?" I said.

  "Nothing," she replied. "You're just funny when you're not trying to be."

  "Thanks?" I said, looking into big blue eyes.

  But then a pang of guilt shot through me as I realized Rachel could hear us talking from across the state. It wasn't much and most of it was unspoken, but the connection between Hope and I was evident. Granted we had been through a lot together and I had always heard going through something so emotional with another person makes you closer to them. And it certainly seemed to be the case in that moment.

  But the thought of causing Rachel undue pain didn't sit well with me, especially given all she had been through and the fragile emotional state that it left her in. She was a lovely person, a fine and decent woman and though we had never said we were anything other than friends (with benefits) I still knew there was a little something more floating just under the surface.

  "What am I looking for?" Rachel said, shining a flashlight around the kitchen.

  "Nothing for now,” Hope replied. "Just keep walking, slowly so I can see.”

  "Okay,” Rachel answered.

  I watched as she went from room-to-room, starting with the living room, then a small bathroom and another bedroom. At Hope’s instruction she riffled through drawers pulling out papers and holding them up to the camera so Hope could screenshot them. But it didn't seem like she was hitting on much really. The house was beginning to feel like another dead end, at least to me.

  But Hope insisted she go through every room, even drawer and every cabinet. She was convinced that whatever was going on started in that small beach-house on Anna Maria.

  "What about the attic?" Rachel asked after almost an hour of searching.

  "There is no attic,” Hope said, looking at the blueprint beside her. "Just a small crawl space. Try the basement."

  "Okay,” Rachel said. "Where?"

  I watched the screen as Hope instructed her back through the kitchen, and into the laundry room until finally Rachel stopped near a large cabinet.

  "There,” Hope said.

  "It's locked,” Rachel responded. "Hold on."

  I watched as Rachel repeated the same process. First pulling a small pin from somewhere, then jabbing it into the door and wiggling it around. Only this time what took about three minutes the first time was getting close to fifteen minutes and the door was still sealed tight.

  "I can't get it to open,” Rachel said. "I'm gonna shoot it."

  "Don't do that!" I yelled.

  "How else am I supposed to get in?" she said.

  "It’s a gun, you'll wake up the whole island,” I said. "Besides, do you even know what you're doing with one of those things?"

  "At least I'll see what’s down there, its probably nothing, just like the rest of this place. And if that’s the case I'll make a run for it. By the time these people wake up and call someone I'll be back at my car and out of here,” she said.

  "No!" I said, seeing her hands come into the bottom of the screen.

  She was shaking a little, and understandably. As far as I was aware she had never even held a gun, let alone fired one off in a dark house in the middle of the night. But I knew how she felt, it was the same way I had felt over the past week. It was that driving force inside of you that wanted to know the truth, the one that wanted to feel useful.

  I had been trying for years to hold those feelings back but, with everything that had gone on, there was no way I could do that anymore and I suppose neither could she. There's only so long anyone can be a victim before they have to stand up and fight, even if they lose at least they know they tried to so something, anything that would h
elp save them.

  "One... two.... three..." Rachel whispered.

  BANG!

  The single gunshot echoed through the air as the bullet collided with the gold handle causing the door to swing open a little.

  "Hurry," I said. "We don't have long now. Get down there! We'll snap a few pictures then you can get back to your car."

  I watched as she began to quickly make her way down the steps, but something caught her foot and she went tumbling down, dropping her flashlight and plunging the room into complete darkness. "Rachel!" I yelled at the screen. "Are you okay?"

  "I'm.. Okay..." she muttered.

  "Can you find a light?" Hope asked.

  "It smells bad down here,” Rachel said.

  "Find a light!" I repeated. "We can't see anything. We've got to get you out of there."

  "I'm looking,” Rachel said. "I'm tracing the walls with my hands... Wait! I found one!"

  I watched as the room lit up in a flash, revealing a concrete floor, a desk littered with a few prescription pill bottles and not much else. "What is that?" I asked.

  In the far corner I could see what looked like a pile of blankets with something stretched out across them.

  "I don't know,” Rachel said, slowly making her way closer.

  "Hurry up!" I said. "Someone had to have heard that gunshot. You don't have much time."

  "It looks like..." she stammered, inching closer. "I think it’s a body."

  "Get closer,” Hope said.

  "No!" I yelled back. "We can't have another body. Get out of there now!"

  "I think its moving,” Rachel said. "He's not dead."

  I watched as Rachel quickly made her way closer to the man. He lay face-down on a pile of blankets half unconscious it seemed. Rachel pulled at him, flipping him on his back and I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

  "Sonny!" Hope yelled. "Oh my God! It’s Sonny!" Tears began pouring from her eyes as she leapt up out of her seat. "Get him out of there!"