The Secret Page

by Al Turner

  “You have a tab?” he asked.

  “You would too, if you got out more.”

  “Were I not, as you previously stated, such an introvert.”

  “That and if you could stay off the damn computer games long enough to enjoy life. You want a beer?” Carson displayed her own drink to encourage him. She knew before asking that he was turned off by any liquid some measure of light couldn’t pass through.

  Tripp examined it with disdain. “That looks more like coffee with a head than beer.”

  “Then go order a watered-down lager or wheat ale.” She nudged him with an elbow as she passed.

  “I’m fine,” Tripp replied. “One of us needs to keep our wits about us.”

  Carson circled back to the sports cruiser they had passed earlier. As she approached, Derrick stood up again from the U-shaped bench seat in the bow and greeted her. He towered over her five-foot-five-inch frame. He leaned in, as if for a kiss, but she handed him the beer instead and climbed aboard.

  ***

  Tripp stood and waited for an invitation, as he felt was customary. He watched as Carson retrieved her beer and greeted the man with a warm hug. His well- defined big arms swallowed her thin frame.

  After receiving no invitation, he simply asked, “Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

  The man said nothing as he studied Tripp standing on the pier. Suddenly, Tripp was conscious of his khaki shorts and button-up green bamboo shirt. He must have seemed out of place to the others. It was clear he wasn’t welcome.

  “You’re being a lousy host, Derrick,” Carson said.

  “Who’s your friend?” Derrick asked.

  “That would be my brother. I’m sure I mentioned him.”

  “The nerdy one?” he asked with a snort.

  “Yes, the one who swims in the deep end of the gene pool, where you’d drown.” She reached up and patted his cheek. “Derrick, this is Tripp. Tripp, this is Derrick. Welcome aboard, brother. “

  Tripp climbed aboard and surveyed the boat, as well as the two other people aboard. A smaller yet fit guy in denim shorts and a loose black shirt sat beside a well-endowed brunette in a hot-pink bikini partially covered with a white crop top. Both looked amused by Carson’s commanding presence.

  Tripp introduced himself and learned that the other couple were Mark and Nikki. They seemed to barely know one another, much like Carson and Derrick.

  Nikki instantly tried to strike up a conversation with him. She was an attractive woman, perhaps barely twenty. Although she seemed nice, he expected her to lose interest after they had spoken for more than a few minutes. He had that effect on women.

  Mark, on the other hand, appeared out of place. His five o’clock shadow seemed appropriate, but something about him suggested he didn’t belong with the others. That honor, Tripp thought, is typically mine.

  “What do you think of my yacht?” Derrick asked Carson, who was already surveying it with disinterest.

  Tripp figured his sister wanted to be brutally honest, but she held back and was polite. “It’s a cute boat,” Carson finally said. She decided to help with the mooring line.

  “Boat?” Derrick asked. His square jaw hung open as if he was offended.

  “Boat,” Carson repeated.

  Tripp hoped he would close his mouth before a flying insect found its way in there. “Its a nice vessel, Derrick,” he said.

  Derrick didn’t even bother to acknowledge Tripp’s words.

  “If you’re trying to impress me, you should know that my grandfather has a fleet of vessels much bigger than this fiberglass tub,” Carson said. “That’s okay, though—I do understand that boys tend to exaggerate size.” Her gesture indicated how small it really was.

  The others laughed aloud. Nikki in particular was tickled at how tough Carson was. Tripp, on the other hand, silently hoped the guy wasn’t so juiced on steroids that he went into a rage and threw them all overboard.

  Carson grinned, then added, “But don’t let it bother ya, darlin’. Size isn’t everything.” She winked, tossed the mooring line down, and recovered her beer.

  Derrick simply shook his head and continued to guide the vessel from its berth. The twins watched him. How much time had he actually spent on this boat that was allegedly his? His every move seemed to indicate he was a novice. Hopefully, he had at least completed the state-required safety course.

  “Dude, your sister’s a real ball buster.” Mark took a seat next to Tripp on the settee and clapped him on the shoulder a couple of times.

  “She’s been called worse,” Tripp said with a polite smile. “Do you go out on the water much?”

  “No, man. I just thought it would be fun for me and my bro, Derrick, to take two hot ladies out for a pleasure cruise.”

  Tripp tried to read the man. Derrick was fairly simple to assess, but there was something phony about Mark. He resembled someone from a reality show or perhaps even a soap opera.

  “Would you like a beer, Tripp?” asked Nikki as she leaned over Mark to touch his shoulder.

  Tripp took it as a sign of attraction. “No, thank you, Nikki. I tend to avoid alcohol consumption while on a boat. A bottled water would be nice, though.”

  Nikki promptly hopped up and fetched it from the ice chest. She bounced on her way back, which made it even harder for Tripp not to keep his focus above her shoulders. She handed the bottle to him. He thanked her and took a much-needed drink. The humid summer heat could zap the body of fluids in no time, particularly if that someone had no working air conditioning in his car.

  Nikki reclaimed her seat on the other side of Mark but continued to lean over him to talk with Tripp. “You have a cool name,” she said, trying to keep the conversation going. “Like an acid trip?”

  Tripp found this amusing. “No, it’s a nickname that means I’m the third generation with the name ‘Bradley Jack Page.’ My mom started calling me Tripp, for short, and the name stuck.”

  “Oh,” Nikki said with some embarrassment.

  Tripp wondered if the man they were talking over, Mark, would get upset if they continued to invade his space. However, he seemed totally disinterested and instead stayed on Carson’s every move, except when glancing down at his phone.

  Nikki, being the curious one, tried to see who Mark was texting. He noticed her and left his seat to move a few paces away. Without missing a beat, she moved into his spot next to Tripp and smiled as her brown eyes looked him over.

  “Where are we heading?” asked Tripp.

  Nikki just shrugged as she kept her gaze locked onto him. He lost any doubt she was interested.

  “There’s a little-known islet in the bay we wanted to check out,” Mark answered from a few steps away.

  “I bet Carson would be familiar with it,” Tripp said as he forced himself to pull away from Nikki’s gaze. “Where exactly?”

  Mark glanced up from his phone for a moment but returned to texting. “You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”

  Derrick sluggishly guided the twin outboard vessel out of the harbor, and they edged through the narrow channel that led to the larger bay. The engines powered up and they accelerated underneath the bridge Carson and Tripp had driven in on. They soon entered the bay.

  WATER HAZARD

  The cruiser made its way around the heavy bay traffic just off Crab Island. As the locals well knew, Crab Island wasn’t really an island at all—that is, not anymore. Years of storms and erosion had turned it into little more than a sandbar, one that allowed visitors to walk around in waist-deep water.

  It being a Saturday, there was no shortage of boats out and about. Located just north of the highway bridge that lead into Destin, Crab Island drew flocks of people of all ages who traveled to the emerald waters to socialize, swim, and drink. Floating platforms were set up to serve those who wanted to gather at the center of the famous hangout.

  Carson watched as they navigated around the crowd of various sea vessels anchored, moored to one another, or puttering around. They h
ad left Destin Harbor and were passing through the channel of Choctawatchee Bay. She hated surprises and so wasn’t keen on having to wait to discover where their hosts were taking them. Her efforts to get this information out of Derrick were in vain, as he was still pouting over her abrupt treatment of him earlier. She informed him he was a brooding jerk and took a seat in the back of the boat, arms folded, and glared.

  Tripp and Nikki sat comfortably in the bow settee and chatted away. Mark had taken a place at the console across from Derrick, who steered them toward their prearranged destination. The dual console separated the two passenger sections fore and aft of their location, with a walkway between the two captain’s chairs. Mark didn’t seem to mind at all that Nikki sat so close to Tripp. The man seemed more inclined to keep watching either his phone or the navigational equipment in front of their skipper.

  Carson began chewing on her pinkie nail, a nervous habit she’d had ever since she could remember. Like most young women, she liked to get her nails done. Unlike some, however, she tended to mangle hers before they were due for their next touch-up. She was mentally reviewing the various parts of the bay she knew of. As she did so, the fun group of boats around Crab Island gradually disappeared behind them. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.

  Carson rose quickly from her seat and headed to the walk-through of the dual console. She passed between both men sitting there and felt their eyes follow her. At the bow, she awkwardly forced herself between her brother and Nikki. They parted and made room for her. While impressed the woman could keep a conversation going with her brother, she had other things on her mind.

  Carson glanced at Tripp to her left, then Nikki to her right. “Okay, what the hell is going on?”

  Nikki seemed taken aback by the question and stammered, “We—we’re just talking.”

  “I’m describing my day-to-day routine as a private investigator,” Tripp explained.

  “It’s very interesting—”

  “No,” said Carson, “I’m not talking about what’s going on between you two. The answer to that mystery will have to wait. I’m talking about those two bozos up there.” She pointed at them. “Where are they taking us?”

  “You’re actually concerned about something that I’m not,” said Tripp with amusement. He was usually the one who was a bit anxious in unfamiliar settings. Carson paused briefly, digesting the idea that she was probably acting more like her brother than he was.

  “There’s something not right about those two. I’m beginning to wonder if they even know one another.” She glanced at Nikki. “How long have you known Mark?”

  “Oh, I just met him today, on the walk. He was sweet and bought me another beer when I spilled mine.” Nikki smiled as if it were a perfectly natural thing.

  “And you just jumped in a boat with the dude?”

  “Really, Carson, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” Tripp said, incredulous. “How long have you known the poster boy for juicing? Less than twenty-four hours?”

  “That’s different,” Carson said, trying to dismiss the similarities. “Besides, I sent you his picture in case anything happened.”

  “Was that before or after you invited me to join you on this boat with Darwin’s missing link?”

  “I don’t remember,” Carson said and realized how ridiculous she must have sounded. It wasn’t a good feeling. “Okay, you got me there. At least I told Derrick that I sent his picture to our cop relative. Besides, I’m a big girl who’s been in dangerous situations before.”

  “I’m a big girl,” Nikki said in protest.

  “I’m not talking about bra size, dear.”

  Carson didn’t hear Nikki’s rebuttal, as Derrick had kicked up the boat’s speed from a slow cruise to almost full throttle. The three of them, facing the stern, lurched forward. The wind and engine noise made having a normal conversation difficult. They began to feel the spray as the bow bounced off waves. Normally, that would have been a good thing, but Carson was no longer in the mood.

  “I’m telling you guys, I’ve getting a bad feeling.” She had to raise her voice to be heard.

  Nikki turned to Tripp for some reassurance. Strangely, he seemed the least concerned. He simply pulled out his phone, brought up a GPS map, and sent it in a text.

  “There,” he said.

  “There what?” yelled Carson.

  “I sent Daniel a text,” Tripp said.

  “And that helps how?”

  “Helps what?” Mark asked. He stood right over them and stared straight at Carson.

  She felt uncomfortable. “What?” Carson pretended she hadn’t heard him. She pointed to her ear for effect. But before Mark could continue, the cruiser suddenly slowed down again as they neared a cove.

  Mark straightened up and turned toward Derrick in frustration. “Why are we slowing down?”

  “No-wake zone,” said Derrick.

  Carson practically leaped up from where she sat, taking advantage of their slow speed to speak. “Where are we going?” Mark ignored the question and pulled out his phone to send another text. Derrick also ignored her, but she would have none of it. “Okay, we’re leaving.”

  “You plan on swimming back to shore?” asked Derrick, smirking.

  “I’m an excellent swimmer.”

  “Hold on,” said Mark and put his phone down. “Nobody’s going anywhere.”

  “Exactly my point,” said Carson. “There’s no secret islet, or whatever you want to call it, in this direction. I know this bay. You, obviously, do not.”

  “Did I say islet? I meant hidden inlet. Cool hangout.”

  “And the bullshit continues. Take us back to Destin,” she said. Tripp and Nikki had joined her at the center of the boat.

  “Mark, she obviously doesn’t want to go to this cool hangout. Let’s just head back to Crab Island. We can hook up with some folks and just hang out,” suggested Nikki.

  At this, a peeved Derrick cut the engines. “Fine.”

  “Why did you do that?” demanded Mark.

  “What’s the point, dude? She’s obviously freakin’ out and not in the mood to play.”

  “Just get us moving again,” said Mark sternly.

  “Piss off, man. This wasn’t the deal. This bitch was supposed to be drunk and ready for anything. Does she look ready?”

  “Deal?” Carson and the other two said almost in unison. Tripp pulled out his Smartphone and started to tap another text. Carson put her hands to her hips and glared. Nikki just stood there, her mouth agape.

  “What’s going on here?” Carson demanded.

  “Nothing. We’re going to have a good time. Go sit down,” Mark said, trying to soften his demeanor. Carson raised a defiant brow.

  “Hey, man, I don’t want this crazy chick flippin’ out and filing charges on me. I’m already on probation,” said Derrick.

  “Oh wonderful,” said Tripp. “Any other revelations we need to know about?”

  Derrick, to everyone’s surprise, did have more to say. “It’s not my boat.”

  Tripp didn’t look surprised, but Carson scowled. “What?” Her glare could have burned through the man. “Anything else you want to share?”

  Derrick thought about this. “No, but I still think you’re hot.”

  “Of course, that just makes up for everything else,” Carson said. Even Derrick knew this was sarcasm.

  “Exactly whose boat are we traversing the bay in?” asked Tripp suspiciously. It occurred to Carson he was concerned they might be on a stolen ride.

  “I don’t know. Mark told me he’d secure a ride if he could tag along with his lady. He said she’d always wanted to go out on a boat. It sounded good to me. We’d both take a ride on a nice yacht with our ladies.”

  “This is no yacht and I’m not your lady, Derrick,” Carson said.

  “I’ve been on lots of boats before,” said Nikki, confused.

  Mark became noticeably more frustrated and headed to Derrick to take control of the boat. He stud
ied the controls, apparently inexperienced with the vessel he had acquired for their excursion.

  “Wait,” said Carson. “Nikki, you met Mark when?”

  “This morning.”

  “And Derrick, you made this deal when?”

  “Last night,” Derrick said and thought about it for a while. He looked confused. It would be up to someone else to explain what was wrong with the story.

  “It’s strange that Mark wanted his lady, who he hadn’t even met yet, to go out for a little water excursion. Isn’t that odd, Mark?” asked Carson.

  Mark reappeared from behind Derrick, not looking happy about the unraveling of his story. He made his way to the stern and stood up on the rear seat, creating a stage for himself. He scanned his audience and then clapped his hands together loudly to get their full attention.

  “Listen up. Derrick will be piloting this boat to our destination. The rest of you will sit down and keep your mouths shut for the rest of the journey.”

  “Mark, I don’t believe this is your call to make,” Tripp said as he glanced up from his texting. “We should head back to Destin Harbor.”

  “I’m with this dude,” said Derrick as he went back to the helm.

  “Unless you plan on following my GPS course, don’t touch that,” said Mark.

  Immediately, Derrick’s chest puffed out and his muscles flexed as he turned to the smaller man who stood on his makeshift stage. He drew closer, but Mark didn’t seem fazed. He looked more interested in who Tripp was texting.

  Mark produced a small semiautomatic pistol, rapidly attached a silencer, and pulled back the weapon’s slide. The click of the round chambering made everyone freeze. Sweat formed on Mark’s face; not just his story had unraveled. “Everyone, stop what you’re doing.”

  Carson and Nikki froze as Tripp slowly lowered his phone. Derrick lost his desire for confrontation and held his hands up, chest level and palms outward. He watched in horror as the angry man leveled the weapon at him.

  “I-I-I’ll just get the boat moving again,” he said, but he didn’t dare move without Mark’s approval.

  “Who else knows how to pilot one of these?” asked Mark. The question was met with an eerie silence, which prompted him to repeat it.