“Are there still good waves?”
“Sure,” he responded.
“Then let’s hang out and let you get in a few more rides. I might even try it again once I put away that juice box.” I smiled and Brien rewarded me with another kiss. Brien and I bobbed around at the line, content to let the gentle swell of the ocean lull us into a happy state. I searched the beach for Willow. Her board was stuck in the sand, but no sign of her.
Minutes later, Mick paddled over and challenged Brien to get back out there. That’s all it took for Brien to swing into action. They took off in tandem, whooping it up, having the time of their lives. Soon they were both back, ready to do it again. This time they didn’t get very far. The wave petered out on them before they could even get up on their feet.
That was the big lesson of the day—how much more time surfers spend paddling and waiting, rather than riding. Even the experienced ones like my Brien and that wannabe tribal leader, Mick. The two of them had come back, parallel to me once again, and were conferring with Snaggy and TonyO when we heard a blood-curdling scream. A big splash, too, followed by gunshots.
“Oh no, not another dead Santa,” Brien exclaimed, paddling furiously in the direction of that scream.
“That was no Santa,” I hollered, paddling as fast as I could with my weary arms. That had been a woman’s scream.
11 Gun Guy
The adrenalin pumped through my veins, powering my arms that were burning with fatigue. We headed toward the shallow area closer to the cliffs. The waves tossed and turned around rocky protrusions in the water. We were nearing that area Willow had shown me the day before from up above on the cliffs. I did what I could to keep up with Brien.
“Brien!” I gulped, as water splashed against the rocks and into my face. “Brien, be careful. Somebody’s got a gun.” I slipped down lower on my board so I could kick too. Using my legs, I finally managed to get around another outcropping of rocks. I looked up just as a man fired down into the lagoon. Before I could control myself, I shrieked at the top of my lungs.
“Stop that!” Brien grabbed me and flipped us both into the water as another shot rang out. When I returned to the surface, the gunman had fled.
“He’s gone, Kim.” Brien shouted. “That wasn’t smart though, you do know that right?”
“Yes,” I glub-glubbed, as I continued to spew water. I stayed low in the water and did not try to get back up on my board. The churning of the waves kept me focused on just trying to stabilize myself.
“What’s going on?” TonyO asked, as he and Snaggy caught up with us.
“We’re not sure,” I said. Spit, spit; gasp for air. “A guy with a gun shot at us from up there on the cliffs.”
“Whoa,” they said, almost in unison, rolling off their boards into the water beside us.
“He took off. I’m not sure where he went,” Brien said, as he scanned every inch of the cliff tops with those eagle eyes of his. I was straining to check out those cliffs, too, when I heard a plaintive cry.
“Help! I need help.” A woman’s voice—one I recognized, even though her cry for help wasn’t very loud.
“That’s Willow, Brien. She’s in trouble. We’ve got to help her.” Brien took off, and before he could tell me to stay put, so did I. We found a way through the rocks into the small, shallow lagoon. Smaller than a lagoon really, it was more like a tide pool. One of several interspersed among the rocks. At the back side of the largest pool we had just entered, Willow lay on her side. She had crawled up out of the water near the entrance to a large cave in the cliff. Brien and I slid off our boards, removed the ankle tethers that kept them close, and went to Willow.
“What happened?” There was a rip in her wetsuit at her calf—blood was seeping out. “Have you been shot?” I asked. She moaned, but said nothing. She had a scratch on her cheek and another on her forehead along with a big welt.
“Willow, can you speak to me?” She mumbled a response I didn’t quite get. I poured a little water over the scratches and gently brushed her hair back. I wanted to see how bad those cuts were—especially the one around that knot forming on her head. Willow tried to open her eyes, mumbled ‘gun’ under her breath and closed her eyes again.
“Willow, it’s okay. No gun. It’s Kim. Talk to me.” She opened her eyes.
“Kim?” she said, more a question than a statement of recognition. I worried she had been knocked unconscious by that fall for a few minutes, or she was going into shock.
“Stay with her—keep under the cover of the overhang.” Brien pointed to the edge of the cliff protruding above us. “I’m going to get help. Keep her talking, Kim.”
“Brien, please be careful. That guy with the gun could still be up there or on the beach by now.” Brien planted a kiss on my lips and took off.
“I’ll be back soon. Stay put.” He grabbed his board and found his way out of the lagoon area. The route he chose would let him remain closer to the rugged shoreline where I hoped he was better hidden from anyone who still might be up on those cliffs. Soon he would have no choice but to risk exposure in order to get help. I heard him holler at Snaggy and TonyO, telling one of them to stay with us and the other to go with him. Where was Mick? I wondered.
“Willow, it’s Kim.” I leaned in as I spoke trying once again to break through the fog she was in.
“Kim,” she said, as her eyes fluttered open. I caught a sign of recognition in them before they closed this time.
“Willow, talk to me. What happened? Please, can you tell me what happened?”
“A man grabbed me at the shack. He wanted a GPS—Owen’s GPS... ” She stopped speaking.
“Did you give it to him?” Her eyes opened wider as she looked around, fear and confusion in them.
“What? No, no. I don’t have it. I told him that. I don’t know where it is. He forced his way into my shack and tossed everything—like a maniac. I got away and ran up the path to the top of the cliff.” She stopped and closed her eyes.
“Keep talking, Willow. Then what did he do?”
“He came after me. I heard someone yelling about a gun. I kept running, but heard him coming after me... ” She stopped talking and started to weep. “There was nowhere else to go. I had no choice. I jumped. When I hit the water I caught my suit on something, a sharp rock or piece of coral stabbed my leg, and I banged my head. Then I heard a gunshot, so I dove under water. It’s not that deep, but I moved closer to the cliffs while I was still under the water. When I came back up, I crawled over here... ” She grabbed at me. Then she struggled for a moment to sit up. “Where is he?” I pressed her back down.
“Take it easy! We’re safe now.” I hoped I was telling her the truth. “The guy up there on the cliff ran for it when he saw me and Brien. Brien’s gone for help. He’ll be back soon.” I hoped that was true too. “Did you know who the man was?”
“No, but I think Benny knows who he is.”
“Benny? What makes you say that?” I asked. Willow raised her head a little, propping it up on one arm.
“Benny followed me when I got out of the water. I hit the restrooms at the dock area, first. When I got back to my shack to get our drinks Benny was hanging out nearby. I wondered what he was doing there, but thought he must be getting drinks too. Or maybe he was waiting to walk back down to the beach with me. That’s when this guy came out of nowhere and pushed his way into my shack.”
“If Benny was still hanging around why didn’t he try to help you?”
“I don’t know... maybe he’s the one who yelled, ‘gun’, I, I... ” Willow stopped speaking and slumped back onto the ground. “I don’t remember much besides pushing past that guy while he was busy trashing my place. I still had those drink boxes in my hand. I threw them at him and ran.”
I sure wished we had those drinks, now. I was parched. Then again, when she mentioned making that pit stop at the restroom I realized I needed to do the same. Soon!
“You did good, Willow. In fact, you were amazing. That
dive was, wow... ” I was looking around wondering if I could get this suit off and make that pit stop right here. There were plenty of rocks to hide behind. With my luck I’d get caught, literally, with my pants down as Brien and a whole rescue squad stormed in here. I could hold it a little longer. I had stopped searching when all of a sudden I spotted a shiny object just inside the mouth of that cave.
“Will you be all right for a second while I go check something out?” Willow looked puzzled.
“Sure,” she responded. “Is somebody there?”
“No, it’s nothing like that, Willow. No guy with a gun or no sign of that loser Benny, either. I’ll be right back.” I ran about twenty feet or so and picked up the object—a doubloon! A gold doubloon! Not a real one, but a piece of the scrip used by the hotel. “Well, how do you like that?” I said aloud.
“Like what?” Willow asked.
“I’ll show you in a sec.” I ventured into the cave. It was darker, so it took my eyes a few seconds to adjust. A path looked as though it led deep into the recesses of the cave, up and into the cliffs no doubt. When I moved in a little farther I could see that the cave branched off. There on one wall of the branch to my left was a dinghy tipped up on its side. Too bad I didn’t have a flashlight that would let me see better into the dark interior. It’s as if the black rock walls absorbed the rays of sun that managed to reach inside from the opening at the entrance. I could hear the lapping of water, dripping sounds too, and then a flapping sound. I looked up and saw motion on a ledge above me. I was poised to run for it. Maybe that gunman had found another way down the cliff and was coming for us.
I felt a gust of air from above me and heard that flapping sound again. This time I saw a flicker of light caught on what must be a shiny plastic surface. A tarp—the edge of a plastic tarp was flapping. I searched for a way to get closer. Then I stepped up onto a large, flat rock and stretched as far as I could while steadying myself with an outstretched arm. The tarp flapped again. This time as the edge lifted I caught a glimpse of gold coins—spilling from what appeared to be a sack of them. I was about to see if I could get an even closer look when I heard noise outside the cave entrance. The sound of a motor boat and shouts—help had arrived!
12 Willow’s Place
As I emerged from that cave I could see two men in wetsuits wading into the pool where Willow and I waited. I had pulled my surfboard up out of the water earlier and was glad now it wouldn’t be in the way of the rescuers. I could not imagine how Willow had survived that dive into the pool of water. It seemed so small with four of us in the area now.
One of the men seemed familiar. Maybe he was a member of the hotel staff who handled beach rescues and I had seen him in the lobby or elsewhere. Just beyond the little lagoon area, I could hear a motor boat.
“Hey you guys! Are we ever glad to see you.” I glanced at Willow who remained silent. She was sitting up, her eyes wide with terror. That’s when I noticed the gun.
“Not as glad as we are to see you, Ladies. This one anyway,” he laughed—gesturing with the gun toward Willow. “Imagine how disappointed I was when we didn’t get to finish our earlier conversation.” I blinked. My mind went blank.
“What is going on?” I asked. “Who are you?”
“It’s him,” Willow whispered. “He’s the guy up on the cliffs when I jumped.” Duh! I had been so sure our rescue team had arrived, my poor brain, running on empty, couldn’t process what was happening. I tried to figure out what to do, growing angrier by the second as I stared at the gun and the toll fear was taking on Willow. At a distance, I could hear another boat—this one sounded bigger. I hoped it had bigger guns, too.
“Hey, hurry up. We gotta get out of here. There’s a rescue skiff coming. It’s closing fast.” That voice had come from outside the lagoon in which Willow and I had become captives. A bolt of recognition hit me.
“Benny,” I hollered. “You ratfink, I’d know your voice anywhere. If you want to outrun that skiff you’d better get out of here now!” I was about to mouth off again when Gun Guy pointed that thing at me.
“Shut up, Ms. Reed, or I’ll shut you up. I told you to leave it alone.” Aha! Gun Guy was also Nasty Note Writer Guy. That Ms. Reed bit also made another thing clear—he was definitely a staff member at the hotel. One of the insiders involved in the counterfeit ring. I wasn’t sure what else to do, but stall. The rescuers were getting closer with every second.
“We are—we were leaving it alone. Willow and Brien and I weren’t doing anything but surfing.”
“On Christmas day? In the middle of your honeymoon? Please, give me a break. You all are up to no good. What about all those questions you’ve been asking, and that heart-to-heart with Detective Mitchum? I suppose it’s all a big coincidence you showed up here just when that pipsqueak Owen says he and his silent so-called silent partners have scored big. You two make an awful lot of noise for silent partners.” As he said that he looked over his shoulder, trying to see above the rocks that enclosed our little lagoon and blocked his view of Benny in the escape boat. I could tell he was getting more nervous. That rescue boat was getting closer. If I could only keep him talking!
“You’ve got it all wrong. Brien and I never even met Owen Taylor.” It had been a close call that night in the pool. A few seconds one way or another and we might have met him.
“Sure, and it’s another coincidence you turn up with his girlfriend, here, the day after Owen meets his maker? I thought he was trying to snow me at first when we nabbed the idiot stealing from us. Then he shows up in that hotel room with a sack of stolen goods. My goods! That loser tells me where I can find more of my stuff since—get this, he won’t need it anymore! Can you believe that? Standing there in a Santa suit he apologizes, as if that makes it all better. The guy stole from me. I showed him what a sincere apology gets you when you cross the wrong people. That’s when he spilled his guts about his big score and offered to cut me in. What I want is the GPS Owen Taylor had in his possession and those coordinates he saved. It took a good deal of persuading, but he told us he gave the GPS to you, Willow—that it’s at your place. So, which one of you wants to hand it over or go with me to get it?”
“I already told you I don’t have it,” Willow said. “You searched my place. You know it wasn’t there.” Her voice trembled as she spoke and she was white as a sheet. Her body shook, too. Not good.
“Search me,” I said. “I don’t have it.” I did a twirl like a spokesmodel on a game show. The set of his jaw told me Gun Guy was not amused. I used that twirl to search one more time for an escape route. Not that I thought it was a good idea for Willow to move. Maybe if I told them it was in the cave I could keep them busy until help arrived. I was gripped by a vision of that tarp. What if it was in there? I didn’t want them to get it. Besides, he might shoot us if he believed I had given up the location of that device.
“Davis, the boat is coming. We gotta go, now!” Benny bellowed.
“Shut up, you idiot. I told you not to use my name.”
Davis, that name rang a bell. Where had I heard it before? Bingo! I had seen it, not heard it. Davis, as in Matthew Davis, had sent out those talking points on the hotel intranet about how to handle the dead Santa problem at the resort. A big umpty-ump in the Human Resources division, he could have contacts everywhere—purchasing, front desk, security, you name it.
“You’re both coming with me, Ms. Reed, now that you know my name. We’ll find a more private place to sort out who will fetch the GPS without causing trouble. That way the one who stays behind doesn’t get a couple bullets in her like Owen.” Davis motioned to his wettie-wearing partner. The guy stood there, like a deer in the headlights. The poor schmuck was in way over his head, like Owen.
“You get the thin one. I’ll take care of Ms. Reed.” Thin one, huh? What did that make me? Deer-in-the-headlights Guy stood there. “Don’t make me tell you again.” Davis pointed that gun at his own partner, who was now not only silent, but motionless.
> I calculated what could happen if I rushed Davis while he aimed that gun away from me and Willow. Deer-in-the-headlights Guy might get shot. If I shoved Davis off balance, though, he might drop the gun or dunk it, making it harder to shoot any of us. It was worth a try. No way would I go anywhere with Matthew Davis.
I was about to body slam Davis when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement. Brien had slipped up over the rocks, or squished in between them. Squatting low on rocks near me, Brien lobbed a large plastic bottle of water or soda that exploded when it hit the rocks. A second bottle hit and exploded. Davis turned and fired toward that noise, unloading several bullets that splintered the rock. The splinters pummeled Deer-in-the-headlights Guy, causing him to break his silence and move. A split second later, Brien leaped onto Davis, using brute force to shove him under water.
“Look out Brien,” I cried, as I grabbed a handful of sand and pebbles near my feet and hurled them at wettie-wearing thug number two who was finally moving. He ducked. That slowed him down long enough for Brien to land a punch. Not that I believed he was much of a threat at that point. When that bottle exploded against the rocks, Deer-in-the-headlights Guy had finally made a sound: a screech of terror that sounded like a gull circling overhead. That tide pool was now teeming with writhing, wet-suited men. Brien’s earlier punch had sent Davis’ partner reeling against the rocks. Now moving again on the rebound, I would not let him get to Brien. I slipped around Brien and pelted Deer-in-the-headlights Guy in the face with a sharp rock, making contact on the first try. He squealed again, this time in pain.
“Ooh, ouch! That’s going to leave a mark. Good one, Kim.” Brien reached out, grabbed thug number two, and shoved him under the water. I heard Benny-the-ratfink take off in the getaway boat. I took a deep breath. Then, it dawned on me that Davis was still under water.
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