by K D McNiven
“But that’s not the case, is it Detective?” Martin’s eyes narrowed and his shoulders were rigid. Anger boiled below the surface and Brock wondered if he would blow like Mount St. Helens. Not that he cared, he was going to play it cool no matter what they threw at him.
“Again. I wouldn’t know. Out of town, remember? I’m sure you can confirm it with the goons you had watching us in Miami.”
All eyes in the room were centered on Brock and the two CIA agents, so quiet a pin could be heard dropping. Except for Brock and Brodsky, no one in the precinct knew the specifics of what had gone on. And for the better, Brock determined. The last thing he needed was for someone to buckle under pressure and tell these two agents what had happened. No, far better this way. Decker’s whereabouts and the circumstances behind his break-out needed stay between him and Brodsky.
“Seems we’re at an impasse,” Brock said. “Either arrest me or get out and do your job. Find Mr. Hayden before he kills someone else.”
Martin’s nostrils flared with irritation and he released a frustrated sigh. Apparently, getting any further information from Detective Brock was like someone driving in a roundabout with no available exit, and Martin had better things to do than beat his head into a brick wall. On a positive note, the Shark Eater had been monitored. Thus far, Decker had not boarded. With little options left, other than slapping cuffs on Detective Brock, Martin turned in a huff toward the door, motioning for James to follow him.
“You haven’t heard the last of me, Detective,” Martin spat.
Once they were out the door, Brock scanned the room. Everyone continued staring at him. “Okay. Everyone back to work.”
When things had settled down, Brock slipped a small cell phone from his pocket that he’d purchased earlier. No one would be able to trace the call. Punching in Brodsky’s number that he’d been given by Kari, called in from the neighbor’s house, he waited patiently for him to pick up.
***
Decker peeked out the silky, powder-blue window curtains. Far as he could tell, no one appeared to be monitoring the house. He’d been waiting for hours for Brodsky to return, his impatience mounting with each passing minute. He would not be able to stay here much longer. No doubt the agents would track him down before too long.
Hearing a shuffling noise Decker diverted his attention from the street to a young child with a mop of brown unruly curls crawling across the floor toward him. He grinned. He loved children. Unfortunately, he and Callie had not been able to conceive. It had been a heart-wrenching time in their lives but they had managed to busy themselves and tried not to dwell on it.
“She seems to have taken a liking to you, Decker,” Kari said. “Her name is Nicki.”
Decker stooped to pick her up. Wide brown eyes looked thoughtfully into his. “Hello, Nicki. I’m Decker. You’re sure a pretty little gal, aren’t you? You look just like your mommy.”
“She’s the apple of her grandpa’s eye,” Kari said.
“He’s a lucky man.”
Kari smiled. “He’s an amazing man. A loving father and grandfather to Niki. I wish he’d take better care of himself though. He works way too many hours. Bulldog suits him quite well.”
“I’ve noticed that about him. Eats on the fly. I wondered if he ever slept.”
“Yeah, Dad’s habits are atrocious but what can a daughter do?”
Nicki pointed to a stuffed giraffe on the throw carpet with the end of its nose missing and looked as though it had been dragged through a mud puddle. Decker squatted and scooped up the ragged toy, handing it over to the bright-faced girl. Nicki grinned and hugged the stuffed animal tightly.
“Her favorite toy if you haven’t guessed. Papa bought it at one of the Christmas bazaars and she hasn’t let go of it since. He loves to spoil her.”
“Just you and Nicki?”
Kari ran her hand through her brown curtain of hair. A sadness veiled her face. “Her father went off to Afghanistan on assignment. Never returned.” Kari blinked back tears. “It’s still difficult, but we get by.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to....”
Kari shrugged. “It’s okay. Life has a way of throwing you a curve ball. I’m mostly sorry for Nicki. Shame she’ll never have the chance to know Nick. He was a wonderful man and would have been a fabulous daddy.”
Decker chuckled. He started to reply when a knock sounded at the door. Kari walked across the room and peered out the window. Seeing who it was, she went to the door and opened it.
Brodsky strut in, straw cowboy hat patted over his head. Donned in dark sunglasses, a leather vest, blue jeans, and cowboy boots. It went without saying, he’d gone to great lengths to hide his identity. His arms were loaded down with packages which he tossed onto the couch once inside and removed the hat and glasses.
“Got word from Brock,” he said. “And the packages are for you, Decker.”
“Grateful, I think.”
“I’ve contacted a man named Cal Fanchon who owns a boat along the Mississippi River. Brock passed his name onto me and wants you and me to high-tail it over to his place this evening.”
“I’m ready to roll,” Decker said. “This waiting around stuff isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Go fit yourself,” Brodsky said, pointing to the bags on the sofa. “We’ll talk when you’re dressed.”
Brodsky and Kari were seated over coffee when Decker entered the room. They both chuckled. Decker was fitted in tight blue Wrangler jeans cinched with a leather belt with a wide silver, turquoise-studded buckle, a decorative chambray shirt, black Stetson cowboy hat, and brown cowboy boots. Quite a radical change from his usual Hawaiian shirts, khaki shorts, and flip-flops.
“Where’s my horse?” Decker teased with a drawl.
Both Brodsky and Kari laughed. Decker looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of a rodeo magazine. He even walked with a swagger to add to the effects.
“My sister is going to pick us up here tomorrow,” Brodsky said. “She’ll take us to Cal’s home on the riverbank. We’ll lay low for the evening and head down river early morning.”
“What would you say to a couple of steaks to tide you over?” Kari asked.
“You won’t hear me complain,” said Decker. “I’ve been taking eating habits from your dad of late. A good home-cooked meal would be appreciated.”
Kari went straightaway to the kitchen and within no time the smell of steak permeated the house. When finished, she entered the room with a basket of baked potatoes, salad and T-bone steaks and a loaf of French bread. Everything looked scrumptious. And without hesitation, Decker dug in.
Kari poured them each a glass of red wine and settled back in her chair. The more she got to know Decker the more she understood why her father would go to battle for him. Behind the tough manly facade, she saw a gentle, kind man who reminded her of Nick. She was glad to be given the chance to help him out.
As Brodsky said, his sister, Camille, rapped on the front door the next morning, bright and early. Even she looked like a cowgirl. A rather striking girl in her mid-twenties with a straight row of ultra-white teeth capped with braces and snapping blue eyes. Her long blonde hair spilled over her shoulders in waves to the middle of her back. Standing beside Brodsky she couldn’t have been more than five-foot-two-inches. He towered above her. Despite her small-packaged body, she had an air of great self-confidence and inner strength.
“Y’all ready to go?” she asked.
“Ready.” Decker grabbed the brown leather jacket off the sofa Brodsky had purchased for him, looking like it had been worn in the seventies with its long fringes on the underside of the sleeves and across the breast. “Where on earth did you find this?”
Humor flashed in Brodsky’s eyes. “Second-hand clothing store. Amazing what you can find.”
Patting down his hat, Decker grinned. “Thanks for allowing me to camp-out here, Kari. You can’t know how much it means. You put your safety on the line for me. I won’t forget it.”
“You’re welcome, Decker. My dad is a good judge of character. If he believes you’re innocent. So do I. And I hope you’re able to clear your name.”
“Tell your dad I’m forever grateful for everything he has done.”
“I will. Good luck.”
As he turned to leave, Niki toddled over to Decker and grabbed hold of his legs. He smiled and stooped to pick her up. “You watch over your mommy, Niki. She’s a special lady.” He dropped a kiss on top of her head and handed her off to Kari.
When they moved outside Decker understood why Camille was donned in her all-white cowgirl outfit threaded with sequences and rhinestones. They faced a white Ford pickup truck with a sixteen-foot, bumper-tow horse trailer. A black horse and a liver and white colored horse poked their heads through the barred side windows. When Decker and Brodsky slid onto the seat beside her, a black and white Border Collie jumped into the back seat.
“Hope you like dogs,” Camille said. “This here is Lucy. She’s my trusted friend and she goes with me everywhere.”
Decker turned and patted Lucy’s head. “Love dogs. Have one myself. Riley.”
“Least they don’t give you any guff. Not like some people I know,” she chuckled and passed a side glance to Brodsky.
“Now I see how you came up with the cowboy theme,” remarked Decker, the side of his mouth curling up.
Camille turned to look at Decker as she slipped the key into the ignition. “Yep, I do rodeo circuits. Barrel racing. Earned ten blue ribbons so far and quite a stash of cash to go along with it.”
“Impressive. Tell me, Brodsky? You a barrel racer too?”
Brodsky caught the humor hanging in Decker’s voice. “I’ll have you know, I’ve done my share of calf-roping and bronc riding. Wasn’t until I broke my collarbone, I decided to take up law enforcement. Now I only get shot at.”
“Good choice, Brodsky.”
The three of them laughed.
Chapter 22
⁂
Karina stopped in front of Callie’s quarters on board the Shark Eater. She knocked lightly. When she heard Callie’s weak voice on the other side telling her to come in, Karina opened the door and walked inside. It took a moment for Karina’s eyes to adapt to the dark room. When she did, she saw Callie sitting on the bed, her legs drawn up, her chin resting on her knees.
“Are you all right?” Karina asked her.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Karina saw that Callie wasn’t okay but tried to put on a good show. The usual sparkle in her jade-colored eyes had dulled, her uncombed hair hung in tangled strands around her pale, still badly bruised face. On the whole, Callie dressed meticulously. But the pitiful figure Karina gazed at right now did not resemble the Callie she knew.
Seeing a small chair in the corner of the room, Karina grabbed hold of it and moved it to the bedside. She didn’t fully understand what psychological trauma Callie had suffered at the hands of the terrorists, but knew she needed to confront the feelings in order to heal. Worse, Decker wasn’t able to be with her and lend his support in her time of need. Karina knew she could not take Decker’s place, at the same time, she instinctively knew Callie needed someone.
“I don’t think you are, Callie.”
Callie stared blankly at Karina. “I said, I’m fine, Kat.” More insistence rang in her voice as she denied Karina’s analysis. “I’m tired, is all.”
“I know you are, and I understand that,” Karina said softly. “But you haven’t talked out this trauma, and…”
“I don’t need to be psychoanalyzed!” Anger flashed in her eyes.
Karina bit into her lower lip. She didn’t want to push too hard, then again Callie had drawn herself into a protective cocoon. You’re not a shrink, Karina, she warned herself, watch what you say. Regardless, she was Callie’s friend and she didn’t intend to stand idly by and watch her slip off into the dark grip of isolation.
“No, and it’s not what I’m trying to do,” Karina said. “Still, you need someone who cares about you—I want you to know I’m here for you. It’s important to deal with the trauma you’ve suffered.”
Callie looked agitated. Abruptly, she leaped from the bed and began to pace. “Leave me alone, Kat!”
“Callie, I…”
Without warning, Callie swept her hand across the desk next to the bed, sending books, paper, and pens flying against the wall. In a rage, she screamed, tipping over the desk, and began throwing items across the room. She hurled a glass vase against the door, shattering it into thousands of pieces across the floor.
Karina watched in silence, allowing Callie to release the pent-up anger and emotions she had hidden away. When she finished her unconstrained outburst, she dropped to her knees onto the floor sobbing. Only then did Karina get down on the floor with her and drape her arms lovingly around her. She held her for a long time until Callie had exhausted the pent-up emotions.
Sniffing, and wiping her nose with the Kleenex Karina handed her, Callie looked up red-eyed, a wan smile on her swollen lips. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I didn’t realize how much pain and anger I’ve been carrying.”
“I know.”
Dax cracked the door open and poked his head inside. He had heard the commotion and thought to check it out when he comes across Karina and Callie sitting in the middle of the small quarters that looked like a hurricane had blown through. He quietly closed the door, his own heartbreaking for Callie.
An hour later, Callie entered the galley and poured herself a cup of coffee. She saw Dax sitting off to the side reading the newspaper and walked over to join him. As she sat down, hair combed, face washed, and a flicker of renewed vitality flashing in her eyes, he looked surprised.
“You doing all right, love?”
She bobbed her head. “Now I am. Thanks to Kat. I didn’t realize I’d stuffed all of those emotions down and felt incapable of finding my way out of the dark tomb I’d slipped into. My thoughts were going to places I never thought they ever could.”
“You’ve gone through horrors none of us will ever have to endure, Callie. But you have friends and we’re here for you.”
She reached across the table and touched his hand warmly. “Thank you. You have been a wonderful support. A wonderful friend.”
“Decker will be with us soon,” he said. “Sorry, you’ve had to go through all of this without him.”
“He’s going through a lot as well,” she said. “Who would have ever thought taking a casual boat ride in the Bermuda Triangle would land us up in such a mess? I don’t know what I would have done if you and Kat weren’t here for me.”
As if on cue, Karina came around the corner, her brown hair drawn back into a ponytail, which swung around her shoulders as she walked toward them. Dressed in faded blue jeans rolled at the cuff, white Converse tennis shoes, and a floral cotton top resting at the edge of her browned shoulders, she stopped momentarily. She had an inquisitive expression stamped on her face, as if asking, “would it be all right to join you?”
Callie smiled and patted the seat beside her to let Karina know she was welcome.
“You look much better.” Karina took the seat next to her.
“I feel better.”
“So, Dax. What do we do now?” Karina asked.
“We’re going to cruise out into the gulf, weigh anchor and wait until Decker contacts us. Right now, he’s being smuggled out of New Orleans. Once he boards, we’re going to head to Florida. We’ll get set up with an ROV—I made a couple of phone calls. I want to make sure once we anchor, the Shark Eater will get equipped before anyone catches on to what we’re up to.”
“That being?” Karina asked, looking a bit confused.
Dax grinned. “We’re going to go and research the area where Decker and Callie discovered the island. It’s growing apparent they stumbled onto something the government would prefer to keep hidden. At least it’s the only reasonable explanation we can come up with.”
“Count me in.”
&
nbsp; “It’ll be dangerous. The CIA plays rough,” Dax said. “You’ve already had a taste of it, Kat. My guess—it will probably get worse before it gets better…if at all.”
“I’m up for it,” Karina said. She glanced over at Callie, wondering if Callie would be.
As if Callie read her mind, she nodded. “I’ll see it through. Whoever is behind this is not going to get away with it. They’ve already taken two lives, as well as set Decker up. I’m not going to sit around and wait for them to murder Decker too.”
Chase happened to be the chef for the day. He walked out of the kitchen with a plate of fresh seafood, grilled baby potatoes drizzled with rosemary oil and grated Romano cheese, a fresh salad and garlic bread to top it off. The aroma filled the room and all of them realized they were ravenous. So many things had been going on around them, eating a healthy meal had been the last thing they had entertained.
“Looks scrumptious,” Dax said, digging in almost before he set it on the table.
***
The Ford pickup pulled onto a narrow, graveled road. Camille did her best to avoid the deep pot-holes. Occasional a whinny resounded from the horse trailer and a bit of a shifting around, which did not deter Camille. She handled hauling the large trailer like a pro, talking up a storm as they went, telling Decker all of her rodeo experiences, and a few of her brother’s tossed in. Decker and Brodsky sat quietly listening.
They followed a narrow waterway lined with bald cypress trees. Spanish moss draped over the branches that extended over the murky waters. Ahead, they spotted a fishing boat moored along the muddy banks, bobbing gently in the soft warm breeze. Scrawled near the bow in black bold letters was the name Moonshine. White paint peeled up on the hull portside and one of the railings leaned precariously, threatening to topple. The weather and years had taken its toll on the boat, but Decker had been assured by Brodsky it would make it safely into the Gulf.
“This is it,” Brodsky said. “You’ll be in good hands.”