With enough miles between him and the marina, Tyler pulled back on the throttle, shutting down the engine. He cut the running lights. The only visible light was a single yellow glow coming from a house on Mango Key. Talk about desolate.
Waves slapped against the sides of the boat as it rocked from side to side. “Damn, I’ll puke if this keeps up,” he muttered to himself.
While Tyler was an avid sailor, he’d never acquired sea legs. Another weakness, he knew, but it is what it is, and he couldn’t do a damned thing about it other than remember to take a Dramamine. Of course he’d been in a hurry when he’d raced out of the bed-and-breakfast, and now he knew he’d have to suffer the consequences. He took a deep breath, hoping to calm the waves sloshing around in his brain, but all it did was make him light-headed. He sat down, closed his eyes, and visualized the beach, with all its white flat sand. He knew the place at the tip of the island was within swimming distance, but until his nausea subsided, he opted to remain in the boat. Besides, this was as far as he’d planned on going. When he thought about the plans he should have made, he laughed. Here he was once again playing the role that was expected of him. Loser with a capital L. What the hell did he hope to accomplish other than spying on Rush and Martin? Did he actually think he was going to shoot his way into that damned castle, or whatever the hell it was, rescue or arrest whomever he found, then sail back to the marina? No. He hadn’t planned that far ahead. All he wanted was something, some kind of proof that something illegal was going down in that fortress, something other than suspicions from his so-called informant, his blackmailer.
He didn’t have the instinct that most DEA officers developed during their careers. All he had was his daddy’s name and an attitude to go along with it. He would have to wing it like he usually did, and he knew what that led to. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Something had to be going down at that fortress, or he would be forced to return to Miami with his tail between his legs, a common sight. He’d find out what the hell was going on; maybe then he’d earn a few brownie points with his father and the powers that be, and his critics would think twice about that goddamned task force that wanted to kick his ass to the curb.
Then there was the blackmailer. A part of him hoped he’d just bump into his blackmailer and get it over with. Whatever it was. Taking another deep breath, Tyler decided he’d head back for dry land in order to rethink his lack of planning.
Swallowing back the nausea for a second time, he was reaching for the key when a loud smack against the side of the boat caused his heart to hammer. “What the hell?” he whispered. Nervous, he swallowed several times before he found the courage to stand up and peer over the side. Probably a stingray. He’d seen some that were the size of a car tire. Leaning over the boat, his gaze raking the surrounding water, he saw nothing lurking in the dark waters of the ocean. He sat down again and was about to click the key to the start position when he saw something swoop in and out of the water.
Reaching for the night-vision goggles, he strapped the contraption to his head, then scanned the water around him. About fifty feet ahead he saw something leap out of the water, then dive beneath the surface. A few seconds later Tyler saw something surface again, and he realized what he’d seen . . . fins! Someone was actually in the water swimming. Who in their right mind would be out in the ocean this time of night? Swimming? At least he was in a boat. He strained to see ahead, his night-vision goggles turning the water a murky greenish tint. The figure was at least a hundred feet ahead. Tyler almost fell over the side of the boat when he saw another set of fins swoop out of the water. There were two idiots in the ocean! Knowing he was outnumbered, he waited another minute before cranking the boat’s motor. He could be out of there in minutes, but curiosity got the best of him. Who the hell were those two, and what were they doing here at this time of night? He’d told no one of his plans—if you could call them plans. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what he’d expected to find when he’d hightailed it out of the marina. Surely this was just a coincidence, two lone people, swimming toward the mansion at the tip of the island? Bullshit. He’d bet his last dollar they weren’t tourists out for a midnight swim.
It wouldn’t surprise him in the least if it were Rush and Martin trolling the waters, looking for a way to screw him over. The pair would go to any lengths, especially Rush, if she thought she could overshadow him in any way. In view of his current delicate position with the DEA, it wouldn’t take much to accomplish it if that was her ultimate goal.
Raking his gaze across the water, he spied the two swimmers in scuba gear as they clomped toward the beach. Grabbing his binoculars for a closer look, Tyler observed the duo. Whoever they were, they weren’t Rush and Martin. They were too tall, too broad-shouldered. Definitely not women.
Briefly, he wondered if the two had any connection to the blackmailer. Though why they’d follow him out on a night like this, he hadn’t a clue. Placing the binoculars on the floor, he removed the night-vision goggles, then reached for the binoculars again.
For the life of him, try as hard as he would, he couldn’t put a name to the blackmailer’s voice. Maybe these two would remove their gear, and he could get a closer look, possibly nudge his memory a bit.
Tyler adjusted the binoculars, zooming in for a close-up. Because it was so dark, he was only able to view their silhouettes. Try as he might, he couldn’t get a good enough visual to identify the swimmers. But why the wet suits and snorkels? Their masks were arranged on top of their head. Where were their tanks, buoyancy vests, all the normal gear one would need to actually go scuba diving? Tyler concluded they must’ve come from somewhere on the island. He remembered the cop. Maybe he’d gone for a midnight swim, but who was his partner? Tyler knew the cop lived alone, but something didn’t feel right.
Lowering the binoculars, he decided to get back to the marina as quickly as possible, then he’d rethink his plans, which, in Tylerspeak, meant he’d think about actually making some plans. Tyler cranked the boat, no longer caring if the two men saw him or not. He figured if they wanted to do him harm, they’d had their chance. Pulling back on the throttle, he zoomed across the water at maximum speed. Even though he knew that his days as DEA chief in the Miami district were numbered, Tyler was still the boss. So what if he considered himself in deep? No one other than he, and obviously his blackmailer, knew his whereabouts. He still held a position of authority, and he planned to take advantage of it for as long as possible. Arnold Jellard had some explaining to do.
Kate lifted her right hand high in the air, indicating to Sandy it was safe to move forward. Sweat trickled down her neck, settling at the base of her spine and soaking the waistband of her shorts. The heat and humidity were almost unbearable and made worse by the rain. Insects the size of bees swarmed around her but didn’t touch her skin. Sandy, on the other hand, couldn’t stop smacking herself. Kate wanted to say, “I told you so,” but knew it’d have to wait, as they had more pressing matters to deal with. Like trying to figure out how they were going to scale an eight-foot-high brick wall. The gates were electrified, and there was a security system she’d have to dismantle. Whoever had once lived here, and perhaps still did so, wanted to make damned sure no one could get inside.
Behind her, Sandy awaited further instruction.
“I think it’s safe to whisper. One of us is going to have to climb this fence if we want inside. Wanna toss for it?” Kate asked.
“I suppose you just happen to have a coin?” Sandy remarked.
“Of course. I always come prepared.”
From her pocket, Kate removed her lucky coin, a silver halfdollar given to her by her father when she was ten years old. Tossing it high in the air, she caught it before it hit the sand. She plopped the coin in her open palm. “Call it.”
“Heads I scale the damned fence, tails it’s all yours.”
Kate opened her palm, the coin tails side up. “Crap!”
Sandy laughed. “I’ll be happy to offer you a boost.”
Kate
snarled quietly.
Without further ado, Kate and Sandy cautiously walked around to the area behind the structure. They’d decided beforehand it would be best to try and enter from the rear, just in case they were being spied on by Tyler or anyone else. Both had heard a boat motor minutes ago. Kate assumed Tyler was spying on them and didn’t give it too much thought since she’d never considered him a danger or a risk. She knew she could and would kick his ass if necessary.
Both women remained alert, conscious of the fact that what they were about to do was breaking the law, because Jellard hadn’t obtained any legal authorization for them to enter the premises. Remaining off the book had its advantages and disadvantages. On the slim chance they would need backup, they were basically out of luck.
In a harsh whisper, Sandy pushed Kate to make her move. “What the hell are you waiting for? You suddenly afraid of heights or something?”
Kate looked over her shoulder. “You want to do this, be my guest. I’m looking for wires; there is a security alarm, remember? I’ll need to cut it, and I’m not absolutely sure which is which. Red, green, or yellow. One wrong slice, and I could activate whatever alarm this fortress has.”
“Yeah, but remember—Mango Key doesn’t have a police force. It’d have to be the Coast Guard, and something tells me they won’t care one way or another if someone were to break into this place.”
Kate acquiesced. “You’re right. Give me a boost.” Stepping into Sandy’s cupped hands, she lifted one leg, then the other, easily mounting the brick wall. Standing on top of the wall, praying no one would decide to take a potshot at her, she removed her mini Maglite from her pocket and raked its beam across the top of the wall. Not more than three feet in front of her she spied a small black box. Lowering herself to her hands and knees, she crawled across the rough surface, scraping her knees on the stony texture and heaving a sigh of relief that there was no embedded glass. She removed the pair of miniature wire cutters she’d stuck in her pocket at the last minute. She pried the black box open with the tip of the tool. Inside were several strands of red, green, and yellow wires. Before she could stop herself, Kate snipped the red wire. When nothing happened, she snipped the yellow wire. Still nothing. It’s now or never, she thought, preparing to snip the green wire. With shaking hands and her breath lodged in the back of her throat, Kate clipped the green wire. Waiting for the screech of a siren or some other god-awful noise to cause pandemonium, she remained on all fours. After several seconds passed without the wail of an alarm, Kate used the back of her hand to wipe the sweat off her forehead.
Not bothering to lower her voice, Kate said, “There’s no alarm.”
“How can that be? You’d think a place this size would be locked up as tight as Fort Knox.”
“You would think. Maybe someone deactivated it over the years. I’m going to drop down. Go to those iron gates around the front. Meet me there. I’ll see if there’s a way inside.”
Sandy gave her a thumbs-up.
Sandy raced to the front of what she now thought of as “the compound,” where she found Kate waiting, a big smile on her face.
“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Sandy stated.
“No, I’m just handy with this.” Kate revealed another tool of the trade, a small bolt cutter.
“Jelly?” Sandy asked.
“Yep.”
“He must’ve suspected you wouldn’t follow orders,” Sandy said, a trace of humor in her voice.
“Something like that. Now listen up, here’s the plan.” Kate briefed her partner-in-crime, then both women entered the mysterious building inside the compound through a broken window.
Chapter 13
Pete trailed closely behind Tick as they waded toward the shore. When they reached the beach on the west side of that thing, Tick stopped and motioned for his brother to do the same. A few seconds later, as Tick prepared to remove his wet suit and gear, he whispered, “Take your suit off. We won’t be able to move fast enough wearing wet suits. Let’s hide them over there.” He pointed to a large wooden hutlike structure that was probably used for storing beach gear for one of the island’s elder’s grandkids.
As they removed their suits, they both scanned the area to make sure no one was watching them. “What are you looking at?” Pete asked.
“I don’t know. Ever get the feeling someone’s staring at you, then when you look around and see no one there, you feel like an idiot but still you know there is someone watching you?”
“Well, sure. That happens to everyone,” Pete said.
Still whispering, Tick said, “I feel that way right now.”
Pete looked over his shoulder as Tick grabbed his arm.
“Don’t look! They . . . someone is watching us.”
“And you feel like an idiot?” Pete razzed.
“I’m serious, Pete! Take the gear over to that shack and wait for me while I scope out that thing.” He nodded at the mysterious building behind them.
Pete grabbed his and Tick’s wet suits and the rest of their gear. “You want me to wait in the shack like some two-year-old? I don’t think so. Remember, you asked me to come along. I’m not going to hide in some shack like a big wuss.”
Anger sparked in Tick’s eyes. “Look, dammit, I’ve already lost my family because of some sick bastard; I don’t intend to lose you, too. Now do as I say, or I really will kick your ass.”
“Then why in the hell did you ask me to tag along? So you could play big brother? I’m in this, too. If I get hurt, it’s because I fucked up, Tick, okay? You don’t have to babysit me.”
Tick took a deep breath. Memories of those days after the murder of Sally and the kids flashed before his eyes. He’d been unable to protect them, unable to save them from the drug-crazed killer who took their lives so callously and carelessly. He wasn’t going to take a chance losing his twin. Though they hadn’t seen much of each other in the past eight years, Tick was as protective as ever. He wished he’d never asked him to come along on this . . . inane quest . . . for what? To get themselves hurt? Stupid, Tick, stupid, stupid, stupid!
But life was all about taking chances, he knew that better than anyone. With a sudden change of heart, Tick said, “Follow me.” If Pete was man enough to take an unknown risk, Tick had to be man enough to allow him to do so. But he’d cover his ass no matter what. Clearly, he hadn’t been thinking straight when he’d decided to drag him along. He wasn’t about to let his brother out of his sight, not even for a minute.
“Leave the gear. No one will bother it,” he said over his shoulder. The gear could be replaced. Pete couldn’t.
Pete dropped his goggles on the sand. “Whatever you say, Patrick. You’re the big man. Former Atlanta police officer. Famous author. You know what’s best for everyone. Just do what good old Patrick Kelly says, and you’ll never go wrong. No, sir.”
Tick stopped, and Pete slammed into his back. Tick turned around to look his brother squarely in the face. “I’m an asshole, I know. It’s just . . . I can’t lose you now that you’re back in my life. It just hit me back there. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry, Pete. I didn’t mean to belittle you or make you feel like a wuss. I’m the wuss. I’m . . . afraid to do anything anymore. I’ve been on this damned island so long, I forget things. Like common sense and good old-fashioned manners. This”—Tick held his arms out to either side—“midnight swim brought everything back. All those years as a cop kicked in, then left me as fast as it hit me. I’m not even sure I could protect you if something were to happen. Let’s just walk back to the house, forget this ever happened.”
Pete shook his head from side to side like a dog, his wet hair throwing water all over his brother. “No way. You’re not taking the easy way out this time. You think something’s going on at the place, so we’re gonna find out exactly what it is. We look out for each other, Tick. No questions. Now let’s go before this gets any mushier. Pull your dick out of the drawer, strap it on, and be the cop you’ve alway
s been.”
Tick couldn’t help but laugh quietly, then he nodded and proceeded to walk toward that thing.
As he walked alongside his brother, Tick had a quickie heart-to-heart with himself. His blood pumped at the thought of getting involved with another investigation even though he thought he might’ve lost some of his nerve. Since he’d finished his last book and wasn’t in any mad rush to start another, he figured he might as well see what he could find out about the place that had loomed in the background of his beach life for almost as long as he’d lived on Mango Key.
He thought about the two women, his neighbors, though they were only temporary. Kate, the quiet one. The one he had his eye on. Once he’d sobered up and started living again, if you could call what he’d been doing those first few years living, he’d met a woman in Miami who took care of his physical needs. Now, he wanted something more. A partner, a friend, and a lover. Could Kate be the one? He wasn’t sure of anything just then. However, he’d made a mental decision, one he planned to stick to. Life was too short. From that second forward, he planned on living the rest of his life to the fullest. And deciding there was no time like the present, he walked a little faster, held his head a little higher, and flashed an ear-to-ear grin at no one.
Up ahead, he spied Bird waiting patiently on top of the iron gates at the front of the mansion. “Get the girls! Get the girls!” he squawked when he saw him and Pete.
Southern Comfort Page 14