by Jana DeLeon
Sophia jumped up from her chair and paced the tiny room. “I just know something’s wrong,” she wailed.
“Good God,” Helena said. “That woman is driving me insane. I haven’t seen such dramatics since I was married to Harold.”
Maryse struggled not to reply. It had been easier to navigate conversation before Sophia showed up thirty minutes ago, hand-wringing and woe-is-meing. But since Sophia couldn’t hear or see Helena, the rest of them had switched to stealth mode. Except Helena, of course. Helena was her usual brash, loud self. The fact that she was clad in the Hello Kitty pajamas and the diving mask, which she still hadn’t managed to remove, made her even harder to ignore.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Maryse said. “They could be having problems with the CB.”
“But if that’s the case,” Mildred said, “they wouldn’t be able to call for help either. More than a couple of people have gotten into a bind with their boats back in those less traveled channels.”
Maryse bit her lower lip, a flood of possibilities racing through her mind. What Mildred said was 100 percent true. She’d been left stranded herself so many times she couldn’t even count them, but at least her radio had worked and she’d been able to call for help. If she assumed their CB was disabled, then that left two choices—waiting, potentially hours, to see if they turned up or heading into the bayou to see if they needed help.
It took her only a second to know which option was the right one.
“I know exactly where they were going,” Maryse said. “I’ll head out there and see what the situation is, then radio back for help if it’s something we can’t handle.”
“You’re not going out there alone,” Mildred said.
“It’s safe for me now,” Maryse reminded her.
Mildred shook her head. “One bad guy has been eliminated. We have no way of knowing if Clifton Vines is dangerous or not, but I’m going to err on the side of caution.”
“I’ll go with you,” Taylor said. “I don’t know the swamps, but I have a pistol and I know how to use it.”
“I’m going too,” Sophia said.
Maryse shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“He’s my husband,” Sophia said. “If anyone can talk some sense into him, it’s me. Please. I feel responsible for putting all of you in this position. I don’t want things to go badly.”
The last thing Maryse wanted was Wailing Sophia in the boat, but the woman did have a point. If Clifton Vines was her missing husband, then she was the only emotional connection available. She might be able to talk him out of actions he’d regret later.
Assuming things hadn’t already gone south.
She took in a breath, forcing that thought out of her mind. She wasn’t willing to go down that path. Not yet. She grabbed a pad of paper and wrote down the coordinates for Mildred. “Call Shirley and tell her to send Deputy Nelson to this location.”
Mildred looked a bit relieved at the thought of backup, but Maryse could tell she still hated their plan. Mildred leaned behind Sophia’s back and glared at Helena. The ghost was doing her best to appear nonchalant, but Maryse could tell she was worried.
“Fine,” Helena mumbled through the diving mouthpiece. “If it will make you happy, I’ll get in a boat with the drama queen and traipse around the swamp. But I want an entire tray of cinnamon rolls tomorrow morning. Fresh cinnamon rolls.”
Maryse glanced at Mildred, who gave her a barely imperceptible nod. Leave it to Helena to capitalize on the situation by adding food bribes to the mix. Her ex-mother-in-law was nothing if not predictable. Of course, she was going to have a hard time eating if she couldn’t get that mask off, but Maryse couldn’t be bothered to worry about it. Helena hadn’t eaten all day and Maryse hadn’t noticed her energy for complaining waning one bit.
Maryse pointed at Sophia’s Prada-clad feet. “You look like a size eight. I only have one pair of work boots, but I can lend you tennis shoes.”
Sophia grimaced, probably at the thought of sliding her high-dollar feet into someone else’s shoes, but five-inch stilettos weren’t optimum for anything as far as Maryse was concerned, much less a trip to the swamp. Before Sophia could get in a word, Maryse hurried upstairs to her makeshift lab and snagged a spare pair of tennis shoes, then scavenged yoga pants and a T-shirt from Jadyn’s closet.
Sophia wrinkled her nose as she took the clothes and headed off to her room to change, but she was smart enough to know that Maryse wouldn’t let her in the boat with her linen suit and heels.
“Do we really have to take her?” Helena asked as soon as Sophia was out of earshot.
“It’s not like I want to,” Maryse said. “I’m out of patience for drama, but if she can diffuse a potentially dangerous situation, then it’s worth the aggravation.”
Helena sighed. “Since it’s for Jadyn’s and Colt’s safety, I guess I’ll have to deal with it.”
Mildred rolled her eyes. “Yes, it’s such a strain dealing with an irrational, dramatic person all day long. I can’t imagine how you’ll manage.”
Helena glared.
“I’m really sorry about this,” Taylor said. “She seemed so together at our first meeting, but she’s starting to look frantic.”
“I guess that’s to be expected given the situation,” Maryse said, “but it sure doesn’t make her any easier to tolerate.”
“No more rich clients for me,” Taylor said. “They’re too high-maintenance.”
“Probably true in a lot of cases,” Maryse agreed, “but not all. Mildred is rich. So am I if you’re talking assets.”
“Really?” Taylor looked back and forth between the women.
Maryse nodded. “We’re both worth millions and you don’t see us flailing and pearl-clutching all over the place.”
“True,” Mildred said, “but we also came into our money recently. Sophia was born into wealth. That’s a totally different thing.”
“Like Helena,” Maryse pointed out.
“Fine,” Helena said. “I see where the two of you are going with this. So we’re both used to people doing things for us, and we don’t like to be told no. What person would be opposed to that lifestyle if they could get it?”
“Me.” Maryse and Mildred sounded off at once and Taylor laughed.
“Whatever.” Helena flicked her hand at them in dismissal. “I’m heading down to the dock. With any luck, I’ll be able to figure out how to get this mask off on the way. Maybe Princess Sophia will finish changing sometime this century.”
The ghost stalked out of the break room.
“There’s too many odd things about this case for my liking,” Mildred said. “The two of you need to be very careful. Don’t let your guard down for a second.”
Taylor nodded. “I feel an imbalance between what we think we know and what we need to know. I just wish I could pin down where the feeling is derived from.”
“Keep thinking about it,” Maryse said. “Maybe it will become clearer.”
Maryse knew exactly what Taylor felt, because she’d had the same feeling all day. Something was off. The dots didn’t connect, but she couldn’t fight the overwhelming feeling that somehow they should.
They were all missing something. And it was big.
She just hoped it didn’t get them all killed.
Chapter Eighteen
Jadyn didn’t even try to control her dismay when she saw the shattered CB.
“Stupid,” Colt berated himself. “I should have called for backup when we saw the hidden boat.”
“No use dwelling on it now,” Jadyn said. “Could you tell what direction the shot came from?”
“Directly behind me.”
“I guess any chance of Vines being the injured party in this just got more questionable.”
Colt frowned. “Yeah, except, I was thinking…Vines isn’t from Mudbug so he probably wouldn’t know either of us, especially by sight. What if he thinks we’re someone else?”
“W
ho? He couldn’t mistake either of us for Peter Vincent or his brother.”
“I don’t know. I was just thinking that maybe we should tell him who we are and see if he surrenders.”
Skeptical didn’t begin to describe Jadyn’s opinion of Colt’s plan. “And if he keeps shooting?”
“Then we’ll hope we’re better shots than he is.”
Jadyn didn’t bother replying. Being a better shot wasn’t the real advantage. Knowledge of the landscape was the big advantage, and it all weighed in on Clifton Vines’s side.
“Mr. Vines!” Colt yelled out. “My name is Colt Bertrand and I’m the sheriff of Mudbug. The woman with me is Jadyn St. James, our game warden. We just want to talk to you.”
Colt looked at Jadyn and they waited. As the seconds ticked by in absolute silence, Jadyn figured Vines had merely used Colt’s speech time to get a better line of sight at them.
“We can’t stay here,” Jadyn whispered. “We’re sitting ducks.”
Colt nodded and scanned the bank for a possible escape. Trying to get away in the boat would only make them a more viable target. Retreating on foot was the only option at this point. “Maybe if we skirted that bank of cypress roots to the edge of the bank, then we could make a run for the tree line.”
Jadyn studied the path he’d suggested. It wasn’t a great option. In fact, it sucked fairly big, but it was also the best one they had.
“How do I know you’re really a sheriff?” A man’s voice boomed out from the trees and they both froze.
“My boat indicates it,” Colt said, “and I have a badge. I can throw it onto the bank if you’d like.”
Jadyn stared at Colt, waited for a response. Several seconds later, he said, “Do it.”
“It could be a trick,” Jadyn said. “If you stand up to throw it, he can pick you off.”
“I’m not going to stand completely.” Colt removed his badge from his jeans, crouched at the edge of the boat, then threw the badge as hard as he could into the trees. He dropped back down beside Jadyn and they waited again.
Several agonizing minutes later, they heard footsteps coming toward them.
“Please don’t shoot me,” they heard him say.
Jadyn raised an eyebrow. She’d been under the impression that she and Colt had been at a disadvantage, not the other way around. They both slowly rose from the bottom of the boat to peek over the side. A thin man with silver-and-black hair stood on the bank, holding a rifle. There was no mistaking his exhaustion.
“Clifton Vines?” Colt asked.
The man nodded. “You’re really the sheriff?”
“Yes. Who did you think we were?”
“It’s a really long story.”
“Maybe you can come back with us and tell me everything,” Colt suggested.
Vines shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway. I’ll talk to you here, but I can’t risk going back yet. Maybe if you believe me and can do something…”
“If you’ll tell me what’s going on,” Colt said, “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Okay,” Vines said. “But not here. Not out in the open. I have a place just back in the trees. It’s safer.”
Colt looked over at Jadyn and she nodded. There was always the risk that Vines wasn’t alone, but based on everything they knew about him, she felt it was a slim chance. And if the two of them couldn’t take one clearly stressed-out man, then they both needed to turn in their credentials.
They climbed onto the bank and Vines waved at the swamp behind him. “This way. It’s not far.”
They had followed him in silence about fifty yards into the swamp when they stepped into a tiny clearing that contained a tiny cabin. It wasn’t much to speak of—mostly a framework of wood and some tarps over the roof, but Jadyn could tell the construction was fairly recent and reasonably sound. Apparently, the time Vines had spent back here hadn’t been for fishing or sleeping. What had prompted him to spend his money and time crafting a hideout remained to be heard.
Vines opened the door to the cabin and motioned them inside. It was one big room with a cot covered with a quilt on one wall, a makeshift table and chair in the middle of the room, and a shelf with a small burner on it in the corner. Jadyn’s mind flashed back to the conversation she’d overheard in the café and Marty’s mother complaining about theft—tarps, a quilt, food—and she had a really good idea where those things had disappeared to now.
Vines sat the rifle on a shelf on the wall and sank onto the cot. Jadyn hopped up on the table and Colt took the chair. The three of them clustered in the tiny space made it feel even smaller. Vines looked at them and shook his head. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“I’d start with who you’re hiding from and why?” Colt said. “Everything else is only details.”
“That makes sense,” Vines said. “I don’t expect you’ll believe me, but I’m hiding from the Vincent brothers.”
“Peter and Bobby?” Jadyn asked.
“Yes.” Vines looked a bit surprised. “You know them?”
“I met them when we were trying to identify your boat wreckage,” Jadyn said. “Why are you hiding from them?”
“About a week ago, I saw something I shouldn’t have. At first, I thought they didn’t know, but someone must have told them I was close enough to witness everything.”
“Witness what?” Colt asked.
Vines shrugged. “I’m not sure exactly. What I saw was a fisherman meet another boat out in the Gulf. I didn’t know the other boat or the captain, but he didn’t look like no fisherman. The other guy exchanged ice chests off his boat for a duffel bag from the fisherman I know. Then they both took off.”
“Sounds like a drug drop,” Jadyn said.
Colt nodded. “It’s definitely an odd place to buy seafood. Why do you think someone saw you?”
“Because the fisherman stopped me on the docks the next day, quizzing me about how my catch was the day before. He was definitely trying to pin down my position. He must have seen my boat well enough to identify it. Then a couple of dockworkers said Peter was asking about me. He claimed it was because he wanted to get me on his supplier list, but he’s already got more suppliers than he can process product from.”
“I agree that sounds suspicious, but it’s a big leap from Vincent suspecting you of something to making a move against you.”
“I thought so too until I saw someone prowling around my cabin that night when I got home. I’m too far out to have trouble with theft or vandalism, and not far enough to be in hunting territory. I have no doubt why he was there, and knew it wouldn’t be long before he made his move.”
“Was Vincent responsible for sinking your boat?” Jadyn asked.
Vines shook his head. “But I figured if he was going to try something, he’d go for my boat first. Less chance of anyone suspecting something that way. The next day, after I docked for the evening, I circled around after dark and hid on a shrimp boat across the pier from mine. Close to midnight, a man showed up and climbed onto my boat.”
“One of the Vincent brothers?”
“No, which is why I was suspicious of you two at first. But I know whoever it was, he worked for the Vincents.”
“What did he do?”
“Attached explosives to my engine compartment. It was wired into the ignition setup, but set on a timer. Starting the engine would have started the timer. Thirty minutes later, when I would likely be several miles offshore, the engine would have exploded.”
“You didn’t recognize the man?” Colt asked.
Vines shook his head. “I’d never seen him before, but I got a good look at him when he stepped off my boat. I’d recognize him again if I saw him.”
“And there’s no one else who might have it in for you?”
“No,” Vines said, but Jadyn noticed the slight hesitation in his answer. She wondered if Colt had noticed it as well.
“All the years I’ve been here, I’ve never had so much as a cross word with someon
e. Until now. I know I can’t give you definitive evidence, but there’s no doubt in my mind that the Vincent brothers are behind it all.” Vines rubbed the back of his neck, clearly agitated. “If you could have seen the way that fisherman quizzed me…”
“I understand,” Colt said. “And I’m sure you’re right. We already suspected the Vincents were up to something. We just didn’t know where to start looking.”
Vines’s relief was apparent. “You believe me?”
“I believe that the Vincents are up to something and they think you saw something they didn’t want seen.”
“But you can’t do anything about it, can you?” Vines asked. “I mean, not without more evidence?”
“I have a friend with the DEA,” Colt said. “Let me start there. He’ll know how to handle this.”
“Did you take a shot at me when I was at your house?” Jadyn asked, unable to contain the question any longer.
Vines flushed and looked at the ground, leaving no guess as to his guilt. “I thought you were working for the Vincents. I wasn’t trying to kill you. Just scare you off. I’m really sorry I frightened you.”
“You didn’t frighten me,” Jadyn said. “You pissed me off. Normal people don’t enjoy being shot at…or poisoned, for that matter.”
Vines frowned. “Poisoned? I don’t understand.”
Jadyn stared. “You didn’t sneak into the Mudbug Hotel and dump drugs into my bottled water? Another move to scare me away?”
Vines eyes widened so big Jadyn thought blood vessels would start popping. “Good Lord, no! I wouldn’t poison anyone. Jesus. And I’ve never gone anywhere near the Mudbug Hotel.”
He was so flustered at the suggestion that Jadyn had no doubt he was telling the truth. But if not Vines, then who?
Then the answer hit her like lightning.
The handoff Vines had witnessed. The frozen fish that Helena had fallen in and how upset Peter had gotten before he was assured they’d recovered them all. Maryse’s comment that the water smelled slightly fishy.
“Vincent,” Jadyn said. “They’re smuggling cocaine in the fish.”