Painted Beauty (2019 Edition)

by J. M. LeDuc

  As they questioned people, a valet from the hotel came running up to them. “Ms. O’Malley!” he yelled. “Is she all right?”

  Jack could see that the young man was shaken up, so he asked one of the medics who were just standing around for a bottle of water, and then sat the valet down on a makeshift bench.

  Jack waited for him to take a sip of water and then, reading his name badge, he asked, “Lenny, have you seen Ms. O’Malley today?”

  “Yeah. I mean yes,” he said, nodding. “She and two men drove into the garage a little while ago. She asked if I could keep their jeep up front because they wouldn’t be long. I told her to park it next to her bike. About five minutes later, I heard an explosion and when I looked, her boat was on fire.”

  Lenny dropped the open bottle, spilling the water on his pants and on Jack’s shoes. Tears ran down his cheeks as his emotional dam burst. “I called 911 and searched for her up and down the sidewalk. When I didn’t see her, I started yelling her name but she didn’t answer. I ran back to the garage hoping that maybe they went back to their jeep, but they weren’t there. I came running back down here and that’s when I saw you asking about her.” Realization seemed to blossom in the young man’s eyes. “Oh God, do you think she’s dead? I mean, she must be, right? What else could have happened? She and her friends must have been killed in the explosion.”

  There wasn’t much left of the boat by the time the fire department was finished containing the scene. Once the fire was out and the steel hull cooled, the dogs arrived and started sniffing for explosives, organic materials and, most painful, the flesh and blood of victims.

  The first found what they were sniffing for; the C4 was evident to the hounds. But the second search came up empty.

  “The dogs found nothing. What does that mean?” Gonzales asked. “Was Sin on board or not?”

  “It means what it means,” Jack answered, shaking his head. “It could mean a lot of things, but one thing’s for sure, there were no human remains among this destruction.”

  “So—”

  Jack grabbed Gonzales by the collar of his shirt and yanked him close. “So we go on the assumption that she is still alive until it’s proven otherwise.” His frustration and anxiety showed in his tone and his actions, as he pushed his partner away and walked in the direction of the fire chief. “That’s what’s ‘so,’ ” he grumbled as he walked away.

  “Chief, can I get a moment of your time,” Jack asked.

  The man stepped away from the charred remains of the boat and removed his helmet. “Just a few minutes,” the chief said. “We still have an active scene. I don’t want to be distracted.”

  Jack nodded. “Just one question. Are the dogs ever wrong? You know, about finding victims?”

  “Nothing is ever definite until the fire investigation is complete, but this boat blew fast and hot.”

  It wasn’t very hard for Jack to read the chief’s thoughts. He walked back to Gonzales and placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I apologize for the way I acted. My emotions got the best of me.”

  “No problem,” Gonzales said. “I know you two were close.”

  51

  Sin had no idea what time it was when she woke up. Most of her shock had subsided, allowing the pain to set in. Her bleeding had stemmed, and she knew she needed to get in touch with someone without being seen.

  She looked to her left and saw two shadows lying next to her.

  “Hey, Fletch, you still alive?”

  He groaned his response. “I don’t know if you would call this living, but I’m still breathing.”

  “Don’t you two know better than to wake a bear when he’s sleeping,” Garcia hissed.

  “Too late, Yogi,” Sin said, “we need to get moving.”

  “If we leave this boat, I don’t care how dark it is, someone is bound to see us,” Fletcher said.

  “Yeah, not a good way to stay dead,” Garcia agreed.

  “Let’s search and see what we can find.” With movement, came more pain. “Fuck,” Sin moaned, “I feel as if I’m going to break like a piece of peanut brittle.”

  The others groaned their agreement, moving at a sloth’s pace.

  A few minutes later, Sin saw the inside cabin light up.

  “I found the emergency stash,” Fletcher said. “There are some survival rations, bottled water, and flashlights with extra batteries.”

  Sin and Garcia joined Fletcher in the stateroom and dined on the rations.

  “I never thought these things could taste good,” Garcia mumbled with his mouth full.

  “It’s amazing how a good case of dehydration and near death can alter your perception,” Sin replied.

  Fletcher swigged from the water bottle and then eyed the others.

  “What are you thinking, Fletch?” Sin asked.

  “I’m thinking this tub is pretty damn big. More of a yacht than a boat.”

  “And?”

  “And, if they left their emergency rations, there is a good chance there is some sort of emergency transmission device on board.”

  The three of them wasted no time in reestablishing a search.

  “A ship to shore should be in plain sight,” Sin said, “but a SAT phone will need to be kept dry. Check for any type of dry bag or plastic box. They are usually yellow or sometimes red.”

  Minutes later, she found what she was looking for; a large, bright yellow, plastic box adorned with a red cross on top.

  “Over here, gentlemen. Let’s see what our kind hosts have left us.”

  Sin popped the latches and opened the dry box. Inside were the true emergency supplies. It contained a flare gun, inflatable vests, and a phone.

  “Power that baby up and see if it’s working,” Fletcher said.

  Sin depressed the power button and watched the LCD screen come to life. “We have one bar and only ten percent power,” Sin said, “so let’s make this count.”

  Without asking the others, Sin knew who to call. She dialed the number and prayed someone would pick up. Someone did, on the very first ring.

  “Federal Bureau of Investigation. How—”

  “Shut up and listen,” Sin said. “Please don’t squeal or let on that it’s me, just get in your car and drive to Collins Avenue. Drive slowly, south from 63rd Street. I’m not sure of our exact location, but you’ll see us.”

  “How?” Evelyn whispered.

  “Trust me.”

  “No, I mean, how are you alive?”

  Sin looked at Fletcher. “Tar,” was all she said.

  “What?”

  “I’ll explain later, just do as I say and keep your lights off once you get to Collins Avenue.”

  The phone went dead before Evelyn could respond.

  Sin looked around at the mess they had made. “All right, boys, let’s make this place look as pretty as possible and get the hell out. Evelyn should be here soon.”

  52

  Sin saw Evelyn’s car coming. It was moving slow and her headlights were nonexistent.

  “She’s coming,” Sin said. “Get ready to move.”

  “She’s a little conspicuous,” Fletcher said.

  “No more than we are,” Garcia grumbled.

  “She’s not conspicuous late at night in this town,” Sin said, “and it’s called hiding in plain sight, Fidel.”

  The three of them were sitting at a bus stop next to a bum who, by the rank smell of him, was sleeping off a good drunk.

  As the car approached, Sin jumped up—as fast as her broken body could move—and practically threw herself in front of Evelyn’s SUV.

  They dove in, stayed low and told Evelyn to drive, now with her lights on.

  Sin had Evelyn turn around and drive north along Collins. As they approached the public beach just north of 63rd Street, Sin asked Evelyn to pull into the parking lot. Once the vehicle was stopped, they sat up.

  “Oh my God!” Evelyn screeched, “You three look terrible. You all need medical attention. I’m taking you
to Mount Sinai. It’s right up the street.”

  “No, you’re not,” Sin said. “Just let me borrow your phone.”

  Sin placed the first call to a friend.

  “Deborah, it’s Sin. I could really use your services.” She listened to the caller on the other end before continuing. “Head to Key Largo and get a room at the Paradise Inn. Text me at this number with the room information. I’ll see you soon.

  “Oh, and Deb,” Sin added, “bring enough supplies for three.”

  Sin then put in a call to Frank.

  “Evelyn, I just called the field office and they told me you left. Have you heard anything?” The words spilled from his mouth as fast as his tongue and breath would allow.

  “Calm down, Frank, it’s me.”

  “Sin! Jesus Christ, where the hell have you been. I thought you were… Well, never mind what I thought. Damn, it’s good to hear your voice. Are Fletcher and Garcia with you? Are they okay?”

  “Yes, and sort of,” she answered. “Listen, I need you to do me a favor. I need you to get a hold of Jack and have him call a news conference announcing my death.”

  “What! Are you out of your mind?”

  “The bastard wants me dead, let’s give him what he wants,” Sin said. “He might let down his guard if he thinks I’m no longer on his tail.”

  “That reminds me,” Evelyn said. “Ashley was at the office waiting for you. She said she was really scared for her brother. She thinks he did something really stupid and tried to contact Joel. She gave me the address where she thought Joel might be living. When she heard about the explosion, she ran out before Jack could get her statement. We’ve been unable to contact her since.”

  “Shit,” Sin said. “Frank, I have to go. Have Jack hold the news conference at two-thirty tomorrow afternoon. That will give us enough time to get our shit together. Oh, and one more thing,” Sin said. “Jack can’t know I’m alive.”

  “Sin, that’s cruel. I can’t do that to Jack.”

  “Frank, if he knows I’m alive the killer may know he’s lying.”

  “Fine,” Frank answered. “What are you going to do in the meantime?”

  “We’re planning on getting some medical attention. Talk to you tomorrow.”

  Sin hung up and addressed Evelyn, “Eve, I hate to ask you to do this, but do you think you can get a ride back to HQ on your own?”

  “No problem,” Evelyn smiled. “I’ve been looking for a reason to see my old friend, Quincy. This seems like the perfect occasion.”

  Sin went to hand the phone to her, but Evelyn waved her off. “He lives right there,” she said, pointing to a condominium across the street. “I’ll just go pay him a visit.”

  She kissed Sin goodbye and gave her all the cash in her wallet. “You have a full tank of gas and two hundred dollars. That should hold you over.”

  About to exit the SUV, Evelyn stopped and addressed Sin. “I almost forgot, I heard from my contact at the DOD.” She pointed to a file sitting on the front passenger seat. “Joel was in the military.” Just then a cruiser flew by on Collins with its lights and siren blaring, startling her. “It’s all in there. I will text you my new cell number by morning. Now get out of here and see to your injuries…all of you.”

  53

  Sin had chosen the Paradise Inn for two reasons. It was an older motel that sat back off the Overseas Highway, and you could access the rooms without having to navigate the lobby.

  She had received a text from Dr. Deborah O’Rourke, about fifteen minutes out from Key Largo. 132 was all it read.

  Fifteen minutes later, before she could even knock on the door, Deborah opened it and ushered the walking wounded inside.

  Sin hadn’t seen Deb since her assignment in Tumbleboat. Dr. O’Rourke started out being her father’s doctor at the Naval Hospital in Key West during his battle with cancer, and ended up being a good friend.

  “Damn,” Deborah said, “I guess the news reports are right after all.”

  “What have you heard?” Sin asked as she laid back on the bed.

  “Action News is reporting a boat explosion on Miami Beach. They are saying that at least one FBI agent is reported missing and that there might be casualties.” Deborah looked at the three bloodied and bruised bodies on the two beds in front of her. “I am assuming they are talking about you.”

  Sin nodded. “I’m really sorry for contacting you the way I did, but we couldn’t go to the hospital. I don’t want anyone to know we’re alive.”

  “Not even me?”

  Sin raised her head, shocked by the voice she heard. Troy was standing in the doorframe of the bathroom.

  Sin looked at Deb who shrugged. “I thought you might need back up.”

  “Well, Stubbs,” Sin sat on the bed and held out her arms, “I guess there is always an exception to every rule.”

  Troy walked over, shook the hands of Fletcher and Garcia, and then wrapped his arms around Sin, applying a delicate kiss to her lips. “It’s good to know I’m an exception.”

  “Make out later,” Deborah said, “I need to fix you three up, or at least patch you up. Christ, I hope I brought enough antibiotics.

  “Sin, you first. Get in the bathroom and take a hot shower. When you’re done, let me know. Stay undressed so I can assess your injuries.”

  “This pain might be worth it after all,” Garcia moaned.

  Deborah rolled her eyes. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

  “Or anything else, for that matter,” Fletcher laughed.

  Two hours later, Sin and her team were stitched up, shot up with antibiotics, and discussing their next move.

  “Sin, can I talk to you for a moment, in private?” Troy said.

  Sin eyed Fletcher and Garcia. Her gaze settled on Deborah’s laptop. “I won’t be long. I want you read the file Evelyn gave us from the Department of Defense and see if any of their information is pertinent to our case. Then start tracing the address that Ashley gave Evelyn and find out everything you can about the place.”

  Sin and Troy walked out of the room and into the night.

  “Troy, this isn’t the time to talk about relationships, if that’s what you want to discuss.”

  “When is the right time? When I’m talking to your gravestone? Because that’s what I see happening if you continue doing what you’re doing.”

  Sin stopped walking and turned to face Troy. “Look, I don’t expect you to understand why I feel a need to take the cases I do, but I do expect you to respect me for what I do.”

  “I do respect you, Sin. Damn it, I love you. I just want you to be alive long enough to love me back.”

  Sin leaned in and kissed Troy on the mouth. “I do love you. That’s why I understood why you had a need to go back to Tumbleboat. It’s who you are. This,” Sin held her arms out wide, “is who I am. Maybe I will change one day and want to settle down, but not right now.”

  “So what am I supposed to do? Sit by the phone and wait for you to call and say that you’re in town; or worse, wait for a call from Frank or Fletcher saying that you were killed?” Troy dropped his head, shook it, and kicked a stone with the toe of his boot. “I don’t think I can do that. I can’t live my life that way.”

  Sin smiled sadly and kissed his cheek tenderly. “Go home, Chief Stubbs. Go home to Tumbleboat.”

  Troy shook his head and walked toward the front of the motel without saying another word. A moment later, Sin watched his cruiser peel out of the parking lot.

  Sin barely breathed as she watched Troy drive into the night, knowing that he was also driving away from her for the last time. “I love you,” she whispered. “Goodbye.”

  She stood in the parking lot feeling sorry for herself, wondering if she had made the right decision, when Carmelita’s words flashed through her consciousness.

  You are the Pearl Angel of Death. The righter of wrongs.

  Sin cleared her throat and wiped a stray tear. “Damn right, Madre.”

  With a renewed sense of spirit,
she went back into the room to chisel out her next move.

  Receiving Evelyn’s new phone number, Sin asked her to contact the Stoklers’ attorney. She hoped Ashley might have called him and given him more information than she had the FBI.

  They got lucky. Ashley had been in touch and mentioned that she found Joel’s address in a bunch of old papers, Sea View Apartments on Bird Road. With the help of Deborah’s laptop, Fletch and Garcia were able to pull up the address.

  There was nothing to do now but rest and wait until daybreak.

  In the morning, Deborah said her goodbyes to everyone, made Sin promise to come visit as soon as the case was over, and told Sin that she would go talk to Carmelita and Maria so they wouldn’t freak when they heard the news that their beloved family member was dead.

  54

  Sin and her men were back in Miami by eight that morning. Their first stop was to meet with Evelyn after she’d grabbed their gear from Fletcher’s jeep.

  Using an alias, Agent Mellissa Fischer, Sin called Sea View and asked for Joel’s phone and apartment number.

  “My gosh, he’s suddenly popular,” the receptionist said. “Please hold, and I’ll ring him for you.” A few minutes later, she was back on the line. “He’s not answering his phone, can I leave him a message?”

  “No thank you,” Sin answered, “but I have one more question before you hang up. You mentioned he’s been popular lately. What did you mean?”

  “Who are you again?” the receptionist asked.

  “Agent Mellissa Fischer, with the FBI. Would you like my badge number?”

  Sin could hear the receptionist huffing. “No, that’s fine. The weird thing is, he never has guests, but in the past couple of days he’s had two. One yesterday afternoon and then one last night.”

  “A woman?”

  “Yes.”

  Sin hung up. “Shit!” She dialed Ashley’s number, but it went to voicemail. She then typed out a text. “It’s Agent O’Malley, call me!”