Wood's Wreck Page 12

  He stuttered, “Miss Cannady.”

  She pushed up against him. “Don’t you ‘Miss Cannady’ me. My special friends call me Cay. And tonight I think you’re going to be one of those friends. Now get me a drink.”

  ***

  Mel ran a safe distance from the boundary islands, reaching Key West an hour later, the boat she had nearly collided with by the Sawyer Keys long forgotten. She figured there was a good chance the driver had the auto-pilot on, or just wasn’t paying attention. As dangerous as the backcountry could be, once you were past the chain of islands, the water became deep enough to travel without worry, and there was little traffic at night and it wasn’t unusual to have the autopilot on.

  She slowed as they reached the first marker leading to the marina and pulled back to idle speed after the wake caught the boat, pushing it forward. Minutes later she skillfully backed into Marvin’s slip and cut the engines as he tied off the boat.

  The ride had been exhilarating. Running at night always got the blood pumping. Her concentration had been so intense that she barely thought about Mac the entire ride back. Now her anger returned in force. She jumped onto the dock looking for something to take her tension out on.

  “I’m going in for a drink,” she called to Marvin over her shoulder. “You coming?”

  “Sweetie. After that ride? You bet.” He followed her into the bar.

  Mel opened the door and had started across the threshold when she saw Cayenne with the boat captain. That was the last thing she needed. Hoping the redheaded witch hadn’t seen her, she started backing out the door.

  ***

  Mac stood in the bow powerless to act. A mullet jumping in front of the boat distracted him. Except for everything in his life going wrong, it would have been sweet to be anchored out here with the full moon casting light on the small waves, a cast net on his shoulder, ready to toss at the unsuspecting fish.

  But the illusion shattered as he saw the lights coming toward him change, indicating that they were making a hard right turn into the concealed inlet. He had a moment of panic before the boat turned that there might be a confrontation, but he realized now that he posed no threat, even if the other driver had seen him. It was not uncommon to fish—even in these unmarked waters—on a full moon. The captain of the other boat had probably taken Mac for a fisherman.

  That didn’t alter his problem: stuck in the middle of nowhere, out of gas. After trying the VHF radio and finding it non-functional, he went back to the bow and stared into the dark water, thinking about his options. He could always hang out until daylight, when there was a chance a boat would spot him. But the wind was starting to pick up again and that would keep most of the boats in port. His other option was to swim for it, and the desire to find out what the man in the other boat was up to made his decision for him. Once he reached land, he would at least have more options than here in the water.

  Without a second thought, he slid into the neck-deep water. The tide was pulling away from land now, but he was a strong swimmer and only had a couple hundred yards to cover. He settled into a side stroke, using a lone tree, taller than the surrounding mangroves, as an easy landmark. Fifteen minutes later he stood and waded the remaining fifty feet to land … or what he hoped would be land.

  Sometimes mangroves didn’t indicate shores at all, but places where the long-rooted trees managed to grow in deeper, fresher water.

  He started to work his way through the tangle of roots, wary for the predators they housed. Spiders dropped onto his head from above and he felt crabs nipping at his bare feet. Slowly the water became shallower, though, and soon he was on dry land.

  He wiped back his sweat-drenched hair to rid it of insects and continued in the direction he thought the house lay. From the charts he had studied and the previous trip, he knew he was on a smaller key separated from the larger island with the house by a small tidal creek. This gave him some security, as he knew he was alone and would not have to worry about being observed until he crossed the creek.

  His thought was to steal either some gas or one of the boats to get back to Wood’s, and if he could escape unobserved, grab the rental boat and tow it behind. That would give Trufante transportation to get himself and the girls to land and—more importantly—away from him.

  Second, he would have a boat to get to Key West and straighten things out with Mel.

  The mangroves thinned as he reached the center of the island, allowing him to move quickly toward the sandy shore of the creek. Across the way, he could make out several lights on in the house, and realized his escape might be more difficult than he originally thought; with the girls gone whoever was there would have realized that an intruder had been there. He would have to be extra cautious to avoid the man.

  He crouched down on the beach and slid into the water, listening for any unusual sound. Totally exposed, he realized the best thing he could do was to get across. Two breaths later he submerged and started stroking toward the other bank, reaching it without incident. He pulled himself onto the sand and crawled to the mangroves twenty feet from the beach.

  The house was about one hundred yards away and he heard a lone voice—probably a one-sided phone conversation. He made his way toward the boats, staying close to the mangroves and keeping as much distance between himself and the house as possible. He reached a point where he had to make a decision; either swim across to the boats or stay on land to reach the exposed docks.

  Already soaking wet, he decided to swim across. Silently he entered the water and side stroked to the far bank. Now, with the mangroves shielding him, he worked his way toward the boats.

  His first thought was to take the larger craft. The forty-foot-plus hull with its three 275-hp outboards gleamed in the moonlight, but he thought the smaller center console would serve his purposes better. It would also probably have more fuel than the larger boat, which had just returned. He could still hear the man in the house as he reached the boat and climbed the swim ladder. On deck, he stayed below the gunwales as he crawled to the helm.

  There was no key in the ignition, but he hadn’t really expected to find one. And it didn’t matter for the short term. He planned to paddle out of the small cove before starting the engine.

  But before he could do anything, a door slammed and the man came outside, a flashlight in his hand. Mac hit the deck.

  Chapter 17

  Mel eased her way out the door and walked past the bicycle stand to a statue of an anchor in the square.

  “Sweetie, what’s the matter? I thought you wanted a drink.”

  “Didn’t you see her in there hitting on that guy? All sloppy and brushing her tits against him.”

  “Now, now. We can go somewhere else,” Marvin said.

  Mel looked around. “No, that’s OK. I think I’ll take a quick run back to the house and try and clear my head. Things just haven’t gone well for me today, and I need some time to digest all this.” She turned to go.

  “Well, you know where to find me if you need me.” He hugged her and kissed a tear from her cheek.

  She hadn’t meant to cry, but his touch released the pent-up emotions of the past few hours. Furious with Mac and maddened by Cayenne’s ineptitude, larceny, or a combination of both, she just needed to run.

  Her head started to clear as she accelerated after holding back for the first few blocks. Rather than trusting the assortment of island vehicles to see her, she used them as an obstacle course, swerving between the sidewalk and street. The challenge helped her to focus, and she fell into a rhythm as she reached Truman and turned left. Cayenne’s house was only blocks away, but she was feeling good and continued toward the beach, where the sea breeze greeted her and she headed towards the waterline.

  She ran along the high tide mark where the sand was firmer until she slowed by a deserted section of beach near a slaving memorial. She started walking toward the water, took off her shoes, and followed the line where the water hit the sand.

  Her immediate anger wi
th Mac had faded, and she knew she needed to consider that there might be another side to the story. Of course, with Trufante involved anything could have happened, but picking up girls and bringing them back to Wood’s was out of character for Mac. She knew him to be a loner at heart, and he stayed away from trouble.

  It was Trufante who usually brought it.

  Coral Gardens—or The silicone slush fund, as she was now calling it—was a different matter. The woman was corrupt, and she didn’t want to go back to the house—or to work. But there were still questions to be answered, and the only way to help Mac was to suck it up and follow through. With a plan forming in her mind, she went back to the road, put her shoes back on, and started walking toward the house.

  When she turned onto the street, she couldn’t help but notice that the lights were on and a strange truck was in the driveway. Not wanting to burst in on something, she approached the house slowly and climbed the porch steps, not sure if she was going in or not. Two people were visible as she looked in the window—Cayenne, with her top off, and the captain.

  She could hear them talking, but couldn’t make out the words from where she stood, so without thinking she moved closer and stood by the side of the window.

  “What do you mean you’re going to pay me with lobster?” the captain snapped.

  “Honey, it’ll be worth your while. I just gotta get out there one more time. I’m telling you, if we haul in anything close to what we got the other day, you’ll have a pocket full of money.”

  “That’s called poaching, and I could lose my license if we get caught,” the man responded.

  Cayenne brushed against him. “Sometimes you got to stick it out there if you want the reward.”

  Mel sat down on the deck underneath the window and tried to get the vision of Cayenne out of her head, but still process what she had heard. This only further confirmed everything she had suspected. She had the motive, that was for sure, and the opportunity; the only thing she needed was an idiot with a boat to do the work … and Trufante fit that bill perfectly. If she could just get her to confess it would clear Mac, but confronting her was not likely to get results. Cayenne thought she was above the law and would laugh at Mel’s accusations. What she needed was proof. All the better if she could ruin the witch and help Mac in the process.

  The house was quiet now, and she crawled onto her knees to look in the window. The room was empty, the only sign of its previous inhabitants Cayenne’s top and bra lying on the floor. She sat back down and started thinking, wanting to kill a few minutes before she entered the house.

  ***

  Mac hugged the deck of the boat, trying to stay out of sight as the man approached. He could hear footsteps on the dock coming closer, but they stopped and he held his breath. Then he heard movement again, but it seemed like the guy was moving away.

  He breathed, but stayed where he was. The minutes dragged on until he was sure he was alone. Slowly he raised his body to a sitting position and peered over the gunwale.

  A light hit him in the face and he shrunk, but it was too late.

  “You think you’re dealing with an amateur?”

  Mac could hear the action of the gun as the man cocked it.

  “Don’t worry. You don’t need to answer now. That will all come in time. Now get on your feet and step onto the dock with your arms over your head. And, for what it’s worth, there is no one within a mile of here, so if you try anything I’ll plug you and leave you in the cove for the crabs.”

  Mac looked around the boat for any option, but found none. He raised himself to his full height and stepped over the side of the boat, placing one foot on the wooden dock and then the other.

  “Good. I see you’ve already been swimming. Water’s nice, huh?”

  Mac nodded.

  “By the way, that’s how I found you. The wet spot on the boat’s side where you climbed over. Now you’re going to meet a friend of mine.” He motioned the gun for Mac to move toward him.

  Mac followed along. He knew he would have to endure whatever the man had planned until an opportunity presented itself to escape. He almost took the chance of pushing him off the dock as he passed by, but the man was equal height and weight, and Mac suspected he knew how to use his body. In front of the man now, he walked off the dock and onto the patio.

  “This way.” The man motioned toward an enclosure in the water.

  Mac walked to the edge of the patio and looked at what appeared to be an ordinary storage cage that fishermen used to keep live bait overnight, but on a much bigger scale. The enclosure was at least ten feet square, with the wire standing two feet above the water and a single strand of barbed wire on top. The posts were spaced close enough to ensure the wire stayed tight. Once in, Mac knew there would be no easy escape.

  The man walked ahead of him and opened a small gate cut into the side adjacent to the shore. He pointed the gun at Mac and signaled his intent.

  Mac walked slowly toward the opening, looking around for any opportunity to escape, but there was nothing. Desperate now, he pulled an arm forward to elbow the man in the ribs, but a hard kick in the back took him by surprise, forcing him into the water. His head went below and there was an instant of panic before his feet hit the sandy bottom and he pushed up. Just as he recovered, the gate was closed and he heard the hasp of a padlock snap shut. He tried to stand on the bottom, but his mouth remained submerged, forcing him to tread water. The man stood there in front of him with a grin on his face.

  “Don’t worry.” He picked up a long foam swim noodle. “You can have this if you answer some questions for me. And believe me, you’re going to need it. You see there’s something in there that should be introducing itself to you any second now.” He paused.

  Mac didn’t know what to make of what he said and continued to tread water. Then out of nowhere, he felt stinging as something circled around and through his legs.

  “Ah, I see by the look on your face that you have met my friend. Now if you want this—” He held out the noodle. “—You can start by telling me where the girls are.”

  “What girls? I just ran out of gas out there,” he played dumb.

  “Don’t give me that line. You were prowling around in here with some other guy earlier. I shot at your ass.”

  “Just got lost, is all,” Mac pleaded. “A buddy gave me some numbers for a good lobster hole.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences, and seeing you twice in one day is a large one. Now, start talking.”

  Mac was getting tired from treading water. Whatever was in the water was still circling him, and a tingling sensation went through his body whenever it touched him. He was just about to reach for the fencing to hold himself when he saw a large mosquito run into the wire. A bright blue light sparked, and with a zap the bug fell into he water.

  The pen was electrified. He moved back toward the center, away from the fence. It must be an eel he thought, the creature must be channeling the current. The man must have caught his look. “I see you know my little secret now. But here’s the thing.” He went toward a table and picked up a box. “I can turn up the voltage as well. Right now it’s probably a little tingling, but another few volts and you’ll be singing.”

  Mac thought about his predicament. There was no way out as long as the man was there. “OK. I’m looking for a poacher that set me up. The girls are with my buddy. You let me go and I’ll bring them back.”

  “What do you take me for?” The man sat with the box on his lap and turned up the dial. The tingling was now stinging. “I don’t give a crap about the girls. They’re just flesh, and I was getting bored with them anyway. Plenty more where that came from. The thing is, you trespassed on my very private piece of property, and now I’m going to have to get rid of you. But first you’re going to take me to your friend.”

  Mac knew he was safe as long as Trufante remained at large. The man had no idea what they knew and had no way of finding Trufante without his help. “OK. I’ll take you to h
im.”

  “I’m a little tired. Been a long day.” The guy got up and set the box on the chair. “Enjoy yourself overnight.” He tossed the noodle to Mac. “The more you move, the more excited he gets.” And he walked away.

  Mac was alone now, his arms hanging over the foam. It kept him afloat and the eel had stopped harassing him as long as he remained still. He looked around for any means of escape, trying desperately to find a way out of the pen.

  Somehow, this man and his island held his get-out-of-jail-free card; he just needed to figure it out. Like the man had said, he didn’t believe in coincidences either, and this guy was some bad stuff, be it women, drugs, or smuggling it didn’t matter. It stood to reason that he had taken whatever those crates were that Commando had on his boat, as well as women, and who knows what else. There had to be an answer here, he just had to escape the pen.

  Chapter 18

  Mel was up at dawn, knowing that it would probably be several hours before Cayenne made an appearance. She dug the tax returns from her backpack and went to her office, where she ran copies and replaced the originals. Her heart was pounding and she was still not clear on what to do and how to deal with Mac, so she did what worked for her and put on her running shoes, slipped her phone into an armband, placed the earbuds in, and headed out the door.

  Not wanting to miss Cayenne, she decided on a sprint workout. After pacing off one hundred yards on the street, she started a half-effort sprint back to the house. After warming up with some squats and pushups, she started running all-out efforts, walking back to the house to get her heart rate down after each one. Just about to start her ninth round, she heard someone outside the house and ducked behind the truck. Looking up, she saw that Cayenne and the captain were about to leave.

  She crossed to the neighbor’s driveway, staying tight to the hibiscus bushes and hoping they would shield her from the duo. Now only a few feet from them, but hidden by the shrubs, she could hear them clearly.