Abe snorted. “She should be relieved.”
Lars exploded, swearing.
Jesse turned away.
He couldn’t put it off any longer. He had to go to see Ginny.
And then...
Then he would have to talk to Julie.
The night ahead seemed bleak indeed.
Chapter Five
Since she was carrying a lock pick in her purse, Lorena had no problem waving with a smile as the car drove away, then heading straight back inside and down the hall to Dr. Michael Preston’s lab.
She stood for several seconds in the hallway, but the place was entirely empty.
There were guards on duty, of course. But they were outside, protecting the alligator farm. She had made a point in the beginning of seeing whether there were cameras in the hallways, but there weren’t—not unless they were exceptionally well hidden.
She headed for the door, reaching into her purse.
“Lorena!”
Stunned, she spun around. Michael was there in the hallway, right behind her.
“Hey!” she said cheerfully, approaching him quickly.
“I thought you were going to get some rest tonight?” he said, frowning.
“I changed my mind. I was hoping to find you.”
“In the hallway? You just waved goodbye to us.”
“I don’t know—sixth sense, maybe. You’re back, and I’m so glad. I can still go with you. If you’re still going.”
He nodded. “I forgot my cell phone, so I came back to get it.”
“Great. I’ll wait for you.”
He nodded, still appearing puzzled, but she kept her smile in place, following him into the lab.
The hatchlings squeaked from their terrariums.
Lorena stood politely by the door, waiting. As she had before, she inventoried what she could see of the lab.
The file cabinets. Michael’s desk. The pharmaceutical shelves. The computer.
He took his cell phone from the desktop, then joined her. She linked arms with him, and felt the tension in him ease.
“Are you a poker player?” he asked her.
“Not really,” she admitted.
“There’s not too much else,” he warned.
“I love slot machines,” she assured him.
He smiled back at her. Apparently her attempt at flirtation was working. He slipped an arm around her shoulders. He was a good-looking man, with a sense of humor, and though it seemed he sometimes wondered if he were too much of an egghead in comparison with the rugged handlers, he apparently also had faith in his own charisma. “Let’s head out, then, shall we?” he asked, and there was a husky note in his voice. If she was happy in his company, it apparently wasn’t too big a surprise to him.
Then again, she’d been trying to keep the right balance. Flirt just the right amount with the bunch of them.
“Let’s head out,” she agreed, and she fell into step with him, aware of his arm around her shoulder—and also aware that the lab was where she really needed to be.
* * *
JESSE HAD A feeling that Ms. Lorena Fortier from Jacksonville would be quite surprised when she learned that the Miccosukee police department currently consisted of a staff of twenty-seven, nine of them civilian employees, the other eighteen officers deployed throughout the community in three main areas: north of the Everglades in Broward County; the Krome Avenue area, encompassing the casino and environs; and the largest center of tribal operations, on the Tamiami Trail. The pay was good, and the Miccosukee cops were a respected group. The department had been created in ’76, because most of the tribal areas were so remote that a specific force was necessary to protect the community, and to work with both the state and federal agencies in tracking down crime.
Jesse wondered if Lorena was under the impression that he was working as the Lone Ranger.
Before he made his dreaded trip to Ginny’s place, he returned to the station. His crews were up on everything that happened in the jurisdiction, but he hadn’t been back in himself yet, and he disliked being in a situation where communication wasn’t tight as a drum.
The night crew was coming on, but he was in time to catch the nine-to-fivers and give everyone his personal briefing on both the double homicide and the death of Billy Ray.
He liked being at the office; he wasn’t a one-man show, but the department was still small enough that every officer and civilian employee knew that they mattered, and that their opinions were respected. He got the different departments researching activities in the area, possible drug connections, the backgrounds of Hector and Maria, and anything that might strike their minds as unusual, or any kind of connection.
Barry Silverstein, one of the night patrolmen, was especially interested in the alligator limb that had been brought to the veterinarian for examination. “Strange that you found only a piece,” he said. “Think maybe we’re looking for a poacher?” he asked.
“Could be,” Jesse said. “But it’s not likely. We have an alligator season, and a license is easy enough to obtain. Besides, the alligator farms have pretty much taken the profit out of poaching.”
“Kids?” Brenda Hardy, the one woman on night duty, inquired. “You know, teenagers, maybe. Or college students. Say that the piece of the alligator has nothing to do with the murders. Maybe some kids pledging a fraternity or just making ridiculous dares to one another.”
“I sure hope it’s not a trend,” Barry said. “They may have gotten that gator, but you start playing around with some of the big boys out there...well, hell, we know what they’re capable of.”
“Poor Billy Ray,” Brenda said sadly, shaking her head. She was a pretty woman, tall and slim, and all business. She was light-skinned and light-haired, probably of Germanic or Nordic descent. You didn’t have to be Native American to be on the force. Barry, who was Jewish and had had ancestors in the States so long he didn’t know where they’d originally come from, always liked to tease her that she was an Indian wannabe. Brenda had once gravely shut him up by assuring him that she had been a Native American in her previous life.
“I’ll tell you frankly that this situation scares the hell out of me. These people are brutal and ruthless. Everyone has to be alert,” Jesse warned.
George Osceola, one of the Native officers on the force, a tall man with huge shoulders and a calm, controlled way of speaking that made him even more imposing, had been watching the entire time. He spoke then. “Jesse, you think these incidents are related, don’t you. How?”
“That’s what I can’t figure. Murders that cold-blooded are usually drug related. And we’re not ruling that out,” Jesse said.
“Could we be dealing with some kind of cult?” George asked.
“I don’t know. What I do believe is that we’ve got to get to the bottom of it fast. George, ask questions, see if anyone has seen anything out of the ordinary. People coming through who aren’t out to enjoy nature or a day at the village. Strangers who hang around. Anything out of the ordinary. Anything. Metro-Dade homicide is working the murders. I’m afraid we may find the killers closer to home.”
“We’ll all be on it,” Brenda said.
Jesse nodded. “Brenda, do me a favor. Get background investigations busy for me, will you?”
“On the Hernandez family?” Brenda asked, sounding puzzled.
“No. On a woman named Lorena Fortier. I just wrote her a ticket, so we’ll have her driver’s license information. Find out more about where she comes from, what she’s been doing.”
“Lorena Fortier?”
“She just started working at Harry’s.”
“All right,” Brenda said, still puzzled, but asking no more questions.
“You going out to Ginny’s now?” Barry asked.
“Yeah,” Jesse said. “And then to see Julie.”
No
one replied. No one offered to take on the responsibility. He didn’t want them to, and they knew it. These were things he had to do.
He left to see Ginny, and it was rough. As rough as he had expected.
Eventually he left Ginny with her sister and niece, both of whom apparently thought that Billy Ray had come by accident to an end that he deserved. Thankfully, they weren’t saying that to Ginny, though; they were just holding her and soothing her. Anne, Ginny’s niece, had told him that as soon as possible, she was going to take her aunt away for a while. For the moment, they had called the doctor, who had prescribed a sedative for her.
Before he left, Ginny had gripped his hand. Her large dark eyes had touched his.
“Help me, Jesse—please. Find out...find out what happened.”
“Ginny, he met with a mean gator,” her sister said.
But Ginny shook her head. “Billy Ray knew gators. Jesse, you have to help. I have to know...why. Oh, God, oh, God... Jesse I need to know, and you’re the only one who can help.”
With her words ringing in his ears, he had gone on to meet Julie.
Hell of a night.
So now he sat with his old friend in the upstairs bar of the casino hotel where she had chosen to stay. Julie had told him that she appreciated his offer to let her stay at his place, but she had wanted to be closer to the city and couldn’t quite bring herself to stay in her parents’ house.
He agreed that she shouldn’t stay at her folks’ house—certainly not alone. Neither he nor the Metro-Dade police had any idea what had happened, and the houses in that area were way too few and far between for him to feel safe with her there.
“I’m telling you, Jesse, there’s no way my folks were connected to anything criminal,” Julie said, at a loss. “I’d give my eyeteeth to help. In fact... I think I could kill with my own bare hands, if I knew who did this. But they were as honest as the day is long.”
“I know that, Julie.”
She sighed, running a finger around the glass of wine she had ordered. “I’m glad you’re on this, Jesse. The other guys...they didn’t know my folks.”
“Lars is a good man. So is Abe. A bit of an ass, but a good detective.”
That brought a hint of a smile to her lips. “Still, no matter what you tell people...everybody seems certain that my dad had turned a blind eye to some drug deal, at the very least. The thing is, you and I both know that there was no such thing going on.”
“Of course.” He patted her hand. “Did your mom or dad ever say anything to you about anything strange going on out there?”
Julie shook her head. “No.” She hesitated, frowning. “Actually, once...” She fell silent, shrugging.
“Once what?”
“Oh, something silly. It can’t have anything to do with what happened,” Julie said.
Jesse touched her hand. “Julie, I don’t care how silly you may think something sounds. Tell me what it is.”
“Um, well, I lose track of time, but a few days ago, maybe a week, when I was talking to my mom, she was getting into talking about ETs. You know, extraterrestrials.”
“Oh?”
“She said there were weird lights. I’m sure it was just someone out in an airboat, but...”
“But?”
“Well, my mom was getting on in years, but her vision was good. She thought the lights were coming from the sky. That’s why she got it into her head that aliens were searching the Everglades.”
“A lot of planes come in that way,” Jesse pointed out.
“The lights from planes don’t stay still.”
“Helicopters,” Jesse said.
Julie shrugged. Then her face crumpled and she began to cry. Jesse didn’t try to tell her that it would be okay. He just came around the table and held her.
Helicopters. If anything big had been going on—the police searching for someone, for instance—he would have known about it.
Maria had had fine eyesight, no more fanciful than the next person. And she had seen lights.
Jesse knew that there had been an airboat behind the house the night Julie’s parents had been killed. That wasn’t surprising. Airboats abounded. But helicopters...
They were uncommon, especially in that area. Not unless someone was looking for something.
But in the middle of the night?
“Jesse, what could it have been?” Julie whispered, as if she had been reading his thoughts.
“I don’t know. But I swear, Julie, I will find out.”
* * *
THE CASINO DIDN’T compare with a place in Las Vegas or Atlantic City—there were no roulette tables and no craps—but it was nice, and it was apparently quite convenient for people in Miami with a free night but not the time to really get away.
It was thriving when they arrived.
The three men tried to encourage Lorena to try her hand at one of the poker tables, but she managed to convince them that she preferred slots and would be happy wandering around, just getting to know the place. There were several restaurants, and though there were tables offering free coffee, she opted for café con leche at the twenty-four-hour deli. She noted the numerous security officers and stopped to chat with one young man. His name was Bob Walker, and he had bright blue eyes, thanks to a dad who had come to the States from the Canary Islands, and superb bone structure, thanks to a Seminole mom. He told her that casino security departments and the Miccosukee Police were two separate entities, but of course they worked together, just as Security would work with the Metro-Dade police or any other law enforcement agency. He’d sounded a little touchy at first, but as they spoke, he explained with a grin, “Too many gamblers drink, lose and get belligerent. And they think we can’t take care of them. We do. We have the authority.”
She grinned. “I don’t intend to get rowdy,” she assured him.
He flushed, and she thanked him and went on.
The place was big, and she wandered a while before finding a slot machine that looked like fun. It had a little mouse, and a round where you got points for picking the right cheese. She liked the game—it might be stealing her money, but it was entertaining.
Out twenty bucks, she left to walk around some more.
It was fascinating, she thought. The crowd was truly representative of the area, running the entire ethnic gamut. Miccosukee, Hispanic, Afro-American, and whatever the blend was that ended up as Caucasian on a census form.
She could see the poker tables and was aware that, from their separate poker games, the guys were also keeping an eye on her.
She was frustrated, throwing away quarters when she should have thought of a better lie when she had run into Michael in the hallway. This would have been the perfect time to have gotten into the lab. Still, since the mouse game was diverting, she went back to it. She was just choosing her cheese bonus when she was startled by an already familiar voice.
“What are you doing here?”
She looked up to see Jesse Crane, leaning casually against her machine. It made her uneasy to realize that his scent was provocative, and that he looked even better in his tailored shirt, khakis and sport jacket. When she glanced up, the bright green of his eyes against the bronze of his face was intense. She wouldn’t want to face him at an inquiry, that was certain.
She wondered what it was about certain people that made them instantly attractive. About certain men, she corrected herself, and the thought was even more disturbing. Michael Preston was definitely good-looking; Hugh was charming; Jack Pine exuded a quiet strength. But Jesse Crane...just the sound of his voice seemed like a sexual stimulant. The least brush of his fingers spoke erotically to her innermost recesses. She was tempted to touch him, because just the feel of crisp fabric over muscled flesh would be arousing.
A blush was rising to her cheeks. She looked away from his eyes, but her gaze fell on his chest. And
then below.
She closed her eyes.
“Hello?” he said softly.
What was she doing here? She forced herself to focus. To shake off the ridiculous sensation of instant seduction and sensuality.
Nothing, frankly, accomplishing nothing. “Um...gambling,” she murmured.
She arched a brow, shrugging as she looked at him and hit the button on the machine again. “Losing money. What about you?”
He shrugged. “I live in the area.”
“So do I, remember?”
“Who did you come with?”
“A group from Harry’s.”
“And who would that group be?”
“Michael, Jack and Hugh.” She stared at the machine, trying not to let him see her mind working. “Are you out for a night on the town? Or just passing through?” Her machine did some binging and banging—three cheeses in a row. She had a return of ten dollars. Not bad.
“Why?” he asked.
“Just curious. Well, actually, if you’re heading out...” She yawned, moving away from the machine. “I’m not much of a gambler. I was thinking of going back, but I came with the guys.”
“I’ll give you a ride,” he told her. “Who should we tell you’re leaving? Michael?”
“Um...any of them, I guess,” she murmured. Not Michael. He might get suspicious. “Hugh is right there—we’ll just tell him.”
She slid off the stool, ready to head for Hugh’s poker table.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Jesse asked.
“What?”
“Your money.”
“Oh. I didn’t lose it all?”
“No. There’s more than a hundred dollars there.”
“Oh. Of course I want it,” she said.
His eyes seemed to drill right through her. “Do you?” he inquired lightly. “I didn’t think money means a thing to you.”
She ignored him and gave her attention to the machine, hitting the “cash out” button.
Tangled Threat ; Suspicious Page 25