Coastal Fury Boxset (1-3)

by Matt Lincoln

  “Last chance to cancel that bet,” I called out.

  Holm sent me a filthy, gonna-get-you-back-later look and turned back to the target.

  “What bet?” Bonnie asked.

  She sat on Diane’s other side and sipped at a water. Guess they meant it about no beer until after the throwing bit. Too bad. Nothing like blades and beer.

  I started to answer when Diane’s phone buzzed. As she listened to what her caller said, her face darkened and eyes narrowed.

  “I’ll send a team over now,” she said as she met my eye.

  “Hey, we just got back,” I said in mild protest. At the throwing cage, Holm hit the edge of the board and swore good-naturedly. I pointed at him. “You can’t deprive a guy of his chance to be humiliated in front of everyone. It’s not right.”

  Diane didn’t smile. That was a bad sign.

  “I need you and Robbie,” she said firmly. “They found the bodies of three trafficking victims at the dockyard, and the boat made stops at several islands.”

  That meant MBLIS jurisdiction. International waters, and this landed on our doorstep.

  “Only three?” I asked. “Seems thin for trafficking.”

  “Go.” She stood. “You know I don’t want to break this up.” She sighed and gestured around us. “Call my cell if you need anything.”

  “We’ll get back to the lab in a few,” Bonnie said.

  I nodded and looked over at the cages. “Holm, time to go.”

  My partner looked over his shoulder at me. A look at my face was all he needed to see the fun was over. He returned the axe he was holding to the rack.

  “Bets are off, everyone,” he said. He spread his arms in a what-can-you-do gesture. “Duty calls, the axeman falls.”

  I rolled my eyes, and Birn shook his head.

  “Next time,” he said. “You’ll get us a round at Mike’s. I’m telling him it’s on your tab.”

  After a little negotiating, Holm agreed to buy everyone a beer at Mike’s and pay Birn fifty bucks. Later.

  We left as Birn and Muñoz stepped up to take their turns. Within minutes, we retrieved our sidearms from the trunk and were in my Dodge Charger with the siren and flashing blue dash light.

  “Trafficking case, huh?” Holm asked as we sped toward the dockyard. “Where’d they come from?”

  “That’s what we’re going to find out,” I said.

  I turned onto the causeway that led to the port. Beyond the docked, shining cruise ships were the well-lit cranes that served one of the busiest ports in the country. Operations didn’t stop for the dozen or so emergency vehicles parked near the furthest crane.

  A port security guy tried to wave me off, but I showed him my creds. His name plate read “F. Shultz.”

  “What’s the MBLIS?” he asked.

  “We handle international cases, and this one’s international.” I put my wallet away and pointed toward the cluster of emergency lights. “Just a guess, Officer Shultz, but I’m thinking that way?”

  The guard nodded. “Uh, yes. Yes, sir. Go ahead.”

  I glanced at Holm. Whatever was in there had shaken up F. Shultz badly.

  The first thing to hit us on the scene was the stench stew of rotten flesh, rotten eggs, and rotten cabbage. The death trifecta. From our time in the SEALs, Holm and I knew the odor better than anyone.

  “Smells worse than Dollar Store on a bad day,” Holm muttered.

  “Don’t give him ideas,” I said.

  We hadn’t heard from the squirrelly informant since he was shot while helping us with a recent case. As far as I was concerned, that was more than enough, but that night, I would’ve preferred Dollar Store’s brand of stink over what we were walking into.

  A bunch of shouts rang out as we approached. Holm and I glanced at each other and broke into a run. We caught up with a couple of paramedics who trampled onto the crime scene. One of the Metro guys grabbed my arm as I got close to the container. My reflexes kicked in, and I damned near knocked his teeth out. He was lucky I pulled up short.

  “Special Agent Marston,” I told him, “and you will let go if you don’t want to hit the ground.”

  Holm showed the patrol officer his ID. The young corporal backed down and pointed into the shipping container.

  “They found a live one,” he said. “We thought they were all dead.”

  “Did you bother to check for a pulse?” I growled. Metro Police was generally good, but some of the young ones had a lot to learn. “Stay here. Don’t let anyone else in until we say.”

  I stepped around the Metro guy and into the death box. Even with our experience, the rot made my stomach twitch. The VapoRub was at the office, neither of us had planned to check out a death scene, so there was nothing to insulate our noses. By the look on Holm’s face, I knew he was in the same position.

  The medics kneeled to either side of a young woman. Someone had brutalized this girl. Bruises covered her arms and legs, and something was drawn on her face. A bunch of leaves and a few flowers were strewn on and around her.

  “How is she?” I asked as we drew up beside the scene.

  One of the medics, a woman with a leathery face and salt-and-pepper hair, glared at me. “Alive. That’s all we know right now. Stay out of the way so we can get her to the hospital.”

  Her partner quietly worked on the girl’s vitals and tried to get a response. I nodded to the first medic, more than happy to let them do their jobs, and turned to the ones who hadn’t made it. There were no doubts as to their status. Ashy grey skin and a fair amount of bloat meant they’d been gone a while. Holm took out his camera phone and started snapping shots of the surviving vic and the rest of the scene.

  “Hey, Robbie,” I spoke softly, so the medics didn’t hear. “They have the same markings on their faces.” I pointed to where it showed between a few leaves. “See if you can get a picture of the girl’s face before they load her up.”

  While Holm did that, I put on latex gloves and poked at a layer of sand on the container floor. Dockyards didn’t have beaches. Hell, they weren’t supposed to have people locked inside. The lack of cargo meant this one was meant for the three victims. The leaves and flowers had to be some kind of statement, along with the facial markings.

  “It’s a tattoo,” Holm reported as he returned to me. “All three have a tattoo of a flower and a trident on their left cheeks.” He gestured to the wilted flowers strewn among the leaves. “My guess is that’s the one.”

  I nodded. “Let’s get samples to Bonnie and Clyde. Dumas can tell us more about the injuries. Maybe she can figure out why these two died and the other one didn’t.”

  “I sent the photos to Bonnie,” Holm said. “They’re back at the lab already.”

  “Imagine that.”

  While Holm went to collect evidence bags from the car, I picked up a limp flower for a closer look.

  “That’s evidence,” a man drawled from outside the container. “You better not be contaminating my scene.”

  “My scene, Rucker,” I retorted.

  Just my luck to get the least likable detective from Metro. The man always looked for jurisdiction fights, and he never won. Not against MBLIS, anyway. He had a chip on his shoulder against anything military, and he made it my problem every chance he got.

  Rucker snorted. “We’ll see whose scene. Did you at least get photos?”

  “My partner did. We have forensics on the way to do the rest.”

  Behind me, the medics were finally moving the girl. They moved that bed more gently than someone holding a newborn. Poor kid, whatever happened, she didn’t deserve that beating.

  “Where are you taking her?” I asked.

  The woman who spoke earlier looked up. “Miami-Dade General,” she answered as she met my eye. “So help me, you feds better not go interrogate her until she’s ready.”

  I bristled at her defensiveness, but she wasn’t wrong to worry.

  “We’ll be careful, I promise. We’re going to go check on her wh
en we’re done here. The shape she’s in, I don’t expect much for a while.”

  The medic huffed as though she didn’t believe my intentions. I didn’t blame her. Cases like this needed solid answers fast, and sometimes victims got trampled under investigators’ enthusiasm. Once the ambulance pulled out, I turned to the Metro detective.

  “This didn’t happen here, Rucker,” I said. I pointed at the flowers. “Those aren’t from North America, and neither are those girls.”

  He glowered but was saved from answering by Holm’s return. I bagged the plant material, and we went back to the car. A bottle of Febreze sat on the roof of the Charger.

  I cocked an eyebrow, and Holm shrugged.

  “I threw it in with your kit last time,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe if we use enough, it might get rid of the stench..”

  “Great. I get to smell like death or flowers.”

  3

  It turned out that the Febreze made my car smell like death and flowers. Holm seemed to think the whole damned thing was funny. Every time he looked over, he laughed. I think the guy was punch drunk after the past few days of little sleep. I was feeling it, too, but we had an assignment.

  “Not another word,” I shouted above the wind. There was no way I’d close the car windows. “Not another word, or I’ll feed that spray bottle down your throat.”

  Holm held his hands up in surrender.

  My phone rang over the car’s Bluetooth connection. I put the windows up and prayed the wind had done its work.

  I answered with a clipped, “Marston.”

  “It’s Rucker,” the unpleasant detective replied. “I have updates on that box of yours.”

  Holm mouthed something about Rucker and a word that rhymed with the name. I rolled my eyes.

  “I’m all ears,” I said.

  “The port authority is checking the manifest,” Rucker began. “Nobody seems to know where that container originated from. All they know is that it came off a boat called Somewhat There.”

  “What the hell kind of name is that?” I stifled a laugh. “What ports did it dock in before here?”

  “Port of Spain, Bridgetown, Martinique, Guánica, Puerto Plata, and then a straight shot to Miami.” Paper rustled in the background for a couple of seconds, and then Rucker was back. “There’s no paperwork on this container. It could be from anywhere between Trinidad and Tobago and the D-R.”

  “Got it,” I said. “Thanks, Rucker.”

  “How long do you think that whole route takes?” Holm asked after I hung up.

  “Best guess? No less than a week.” I was quiet for a moment. “They were in that container long enough to rot. Dumas will tell us if the other two were alive when they were thrown in there. Whoever did this is making more than a statement.”

  “Yeah.” Holm stared out the passenger window. “Yeah, they are.”

  Streetlights flashed by as we neared the hospital. My phone rang again as we parked in a slot for police vehicles. A check of the caller ID made me smile. I answered with a grin.

  “Hey, Tessa!”

  “Hi, Ethan.” Her voice took me back to a great night on my houseboat, among other things. She’d returned to New York, but she was always welcome in Miami. “I have some news for you.”

  “What’s up?”

  “It’s the coin you gave me. I had it appraised today.”

  I sat up straighter in my seat. Holm perked up, as well. When we worked the Cobra Jon case, we found a bag of gold coins from the Dragon’s Rogue, a sunken pirate ship I’d been chasing for years. Tessa was with me when we found it, and I gave her one of the coins.

  “Yeah?” I asked. “What d'you learn?”

  “You still haven’t taken the rest in, have you?” She laughed. “Of course not. You’ve dragged your feet since I left.”

  “Okay, woman, tell me about the coin,” I teased. Holm chuckled with me.

  “Is Robbie with you?” she asked.

  “Unfortunately,” Holm answered. “Come on, tell us.”

  “Okay, okay. Ethan, you gave me a Triple Unite from Charles the First. Those were hammered by hand. The one I have is worth sixty-three thousand dollars.”

  “Holy shit.” I blinked and stared at my partner. He stared back just as wowed as me. “I mean, I knew they were worth something, but… Holy shit!”

  Tessa laughed again. “Seriously, you need to get those coins appraised and insured. Uncle Donald gave me the name of someone down there he trusts. He said to tell you that’s an order.”

  I fought the temptation to salute. Fleet Admiral Donald Farr had been best friends with Tessa’s father and had taken her under his care when her father died. When I was in the Navy, I had the honor to serve with Farr for a short time. I didn’t claim to have any personal heroes, but he came damned close.

  “If it’ll make the two of you happy, I’ll do it,” I promised. “Text me the info, and I’ll make the appointment tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, about that…” She hesitated, and I saw it coming. “Uncle Donald already set it. Ten o’clock tomorrow morning. His name is William Meyer, and he’ll be expecting you.”

  “Of course, he will.” I didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused. “Thanks, Tessa. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

  “Stay safe, Ethan.”

  “You too.”

  After the call ended, Holm whistled. “You might be rich. That treasure hunt is paying off.”

  “I have a few coins.” I got out of the car and started for the hospital’s emergency entrance. Over my shoulder, I said, “It’s not the ship, Holm. I want the ship.”

  He caught up within a few long strides and got me to stop.

  “Sell those coins, and you’ll be able to afford more excursions for the search. Think about it. Your own dive boat, maybe aerial surveillance. Those kinds of things.”

  “We have a job to do,” I reminded him with a gesture at the door. “I’ll let you know when I decide what to do with the coins.”

  He frowned and then shrugged. What I didn’t want to tell him is that selling the coins was the last thing I wanted to do. They were a connection to my grandfather. Tobias Lancaster’s dream was to find the Dragon’s Rogue, and he passed that dream on to me when I went to live with him following my father’s death. So yeah, selling the coins wasn’t something I was ready to do, but I wasn’t going to admit that to anyone.

  “Okay, no more about the coins tonight,” Holm said.

  We entered the emergency room at Miami-Dade General and were directed to a room at the back of the department. The medics were leaving as we arrived, and the woman on the team pointed to her eyes and then at me. I gave her a half salute before entering the room with Holm.

  “Excuse me, sir.” A nurse blocked us from going more than two steps into the room. She put a hand over her nose and backed away. “No visitors.”

  Holm and I showed her our identification, but still, she shook her head.

  “She’s not conscious. You can talk to her doctor.”

  The nurse pointed to a petite, dark-skinned woman who approached from down the hall and then excused herself. Holm smiled and held out his hand.

  “Special Agents Holm and Marston,” he said. “We’re here to—”

  “I know why you’re here, and you’re going to have to wait. My patient isn’t awake, let alone ready to talk to you.” She frowned at the two of us.

  “We understand that, Doctor…” I checked the name on her lab coat. “Doctor Hill. If she doesn’t wake soon, we’ll need information to help identify her so we can contact her family.”

  She turned that icy glare on me. “So you can report her to ICE, you mean.”

  “We’re with MBLIS, not for ICE,” I explained in an effort to assuage her concerns. “She’s a material witness to two murders, maybe more crimes.”

  “I’ve never heard of this ‘embliss.’ Where’s your jurisdiction?”

  “It’s an acronym for Military Border Liaison Investigative Services,” I showed
her my badge. “We work sea and coastal crimes that cross international borders.”

  Doctor Hill looked no less skeptical after looking at my ID, but she didn’t argue. “It doesn’t matter who you are. The patient isn’t ready for visitors of any variety. Leave me your card, and we’ll call if and when she wakes up. And if I can confirm who you are.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Holm said.

  “Yes, Doctor,” she answered.

  I smiled. I liked her. “Thank you, Doctor Hill. I’m glad to know our victim has a great advocate in you.”

  “You two better take showers if you even think about coming back here,” she said. “You smell worse than she did.”

  On the way out, Holm was already complaining about being blocked by the doctor. “We just wanted to see what condition she’s in. Yeah, I get we reek, but we were already in there.”

  I unlocked the car and opened the door, but Holm stood on the other side and waited for an answer.

  “How often do we get a live one, Robbie?” I asked him.

  “Not often enough.”

  “Right.” I pointed to the entrance. “Do you want to piss off the strongest allies our victims have?”

  Holm ran a hand through his surf-boy hair. Like me, he was a former SEAL, but he had a soft touch the harshest combat never erased. I appreciated that about my partner. Most of the time. Tonight, it drove him for answers that weren’t ready. I didn’t like it either, but we had to deal with it.

  “So, what next?” Holm asked as we got into the car.

  I looked at my watch, a good, old-fashioned diving watch that no smartphone could replace.

  “Oh-two hundred.” I stifled a yawn. “I don’t know about you, but I need some shut-eye. Let’s drop off the flower evidence for Bonnie and Clyde, and then I’ll get you home unless you wanna crash at the boathouse.”

  “Sure. The boathouse is closer, and I’m ready to drop.”

  Our headquarters were close to the hospital. I figured I’d get some burnt coffee while I was there. Neither of us had slept in about forty hours, and in the morning, I needed to have words with Diane about sending us when Birn and Muñoz were plenty rested. My head was so fuzzy I felt like I was missing something, which wasn’t good for a brewing case.