Wood's Wreck Page 18

  That thought became harder to swallow when Commando wound up and smacked Jules across the side of her head with the butt of the gun. She collapsed into Mel and he came toward them.

  Mel winced, thinking she would share the same fate, but he reached for the sheriff’s belt and removed it. With the gun still pointed at Mel, he grabbed a handful of zip ties from a compartment on the belt.

  With a tie in his mouth, its ends stuck together to form a loop, he grabbed Mel’s wrists, slipped the tie around them, and pulled. He reached for another tie and leaned over to secure her feet when she caught Marvin’s eye.

  She blinked hard several times to get his attention and then moved per pupils in an exaggerated motion, trying to communicate with him using her eyes. He got the message, grabbed the fire extinguisher strapped next to the helm, and started toward Commando, who looked up at her just as Marvin was about to wind up and strike.

  There must have been something in her eyes—either a reflection or a tell—because he pivoted, extended the gun, and fired.

  Without looking back, he turned to Mel, finished placing the tie around her ankles, and pulled hard. After trussing Jules, he went to the body on the deck. Marvin was moaning in pain, grabbing his thigh. Blood spurted from the wound—a sign that he had hit an artery.

  “Don’t!” she yelled at Commando, who fired again.

  “Can’t be to careful,” he laughed and went for the helm. Blood coated the deck and it looked bad for the man.

  Mel looked around, desperate for help, but there was no one on the water; the high winds had kept the casual boaters and commercial fishermen off the water. Jules started to stir and Mel bent over and whispered in her ear to stay down. Marvin was still on the deck clutching his thigh, but there was nothing she could do for him.

  Feeling helpless, she scanned the land and water for anyone or anything that could assist them, but as they passed through the harbor and turned into a commercial-looking canal, the prospects turned to zero. The canal led to Monster Bait, the home base for Commando and his crew. They passed commercial lobster boats, docked on each side of the narrow waterway, all deserted. The deeper they got into the channel, the more industrial it looked and the worse she thought their chances for escape were.

  Commando pulled up to a rickety dock loaded with traps and line, where the man with the rifle stood waiting.

  “Off,” he said as he waited for the men to tie off the boat before he shut off the motor and pocketed the keys. “I think you two remember where the chum shed is.”

  Mel cringed at the thought of revisiting the shack where Trufante’s finger had been ground down. Nothing good awaited them there.

  “Yo. Take the boy and hold him with the girls,” Commando said to the man as he stepped onto the dock and waited. “You two. Help him.”

  Mel and Jules grabbed Marvin under his arms and pulled him to his feet. He was unconscious, his body limp. “He needs a doctor.”

  “Shit. He’s going to be the special of the week out on the reef. Maybe I’ll call it Lemon Swirl. What’s with the hair, anyway?” He laughed and looked straight at her. “Now let’s go.”

  Just as they stepped off the dock and started onto the crushed coral trail leading to the chum shack, his phone rang.

  It seemed like a reprieve had finally come as she listened to the one-sided conversation. Whoever the caller was, he was clearly the boss. Commando said another “Yes sir” and then hung up.

  “Change of plans, looks like the fishes out there will have to wait for the Lemon Swirl.” He looked at the other man. “Lock him up with the girls and get the car.”

  ***

  Mel landed against Jules as Commando shoved her into the back seat. She could do nothing but watch as he went around, got in next to Jules, and stuck a piece of duct tape over her mouth. Mel’s mouth was already taped.

  “Travis’s house,” he ordered the man behind the wheel. “You remember where it is?”

  The man nodded and the sheriff’s SUV started onto the driveway and picked up speed as it hit the road.

  “Hold it down. You don’t want to get a ticket,” Commando snickered, and jabbed Jules in the ribs.

  Mel watched out the window, wondering where Mac was and if he would be able to figure out where they were. Maybe he would have sense enough to call the sheriff’s station and they would realize Jules was missing. She wasn’t sure what that would accomplish, but she knew she had to stay positive.

  The car turned onto US1 and headed south toward Mac’s street. A highway patrol car passed in the opposite direction and she swore the driver waved. Commando laughed—he must have seen it too. The driver pulled into the center turn lane and waited for traffic before turning left. At the end of the block they pulled into the crushed coral driveway in front of Mac’s house.

  “Go check out the house and set up the sniper rifle on the canal. We don’t want any unexpected guests,” Commando said to the man in the passenger seat, who took the long rifle and went toward the back of the house. “You stay here and watch them,” he said to the driver. “I’ll check things out.” He opened the door and got out.

  Mel looked at Jules after Commando was out of sight,wondering if she had a plan. Jules was calm, but Mel could tell she was alert. Her eyes told her to relax, that and wait.

  Chapter 26

  The three men huddled together, their backs against the leaning post, swaying with the motion of the boat in a futile attempt to stay dry. The bow crashed through the waves, sending spray flying, but despite knowing the boat would ride better and drier if he increased speed, Mac knew they had to take the pounding to allow the other men to follow.

  He turned backwards to make sure they were still there and had to search the whitecaps to see the spray kicked up by the other bow as it smashed through a wave. Back behind the partial protection of the windscreen, he traced a line with his finger on the plotter, showing Trufante the course he had chosen.

  “That’s dicey. You know that channel’s not marked. There’s rocks and shoals all through it,” Trufante yelled.

  “Have to risk it,” Mac said. His biggest fear was that their pursuers would tire of the chase and decide to take a short cut to reach Marathon and get to Mel first, if Commando hadn’t found her already. He needed to take the fastest route to the Atlantic side to keep his pursuers from bearing off. If they stayed on the Gulf side, there were several routes the other men could take. But on the ocean side of the bridge there was only one, and he would have the upper hand with the faster boat. He suspected that these were not the kind of guys that would stay back and lick their wounds. They would follow and hopefully take his bait. Once he reached the ocean side, he could increase speed and slowly pull away. He would stay close enough to let them see him enter the Knight’s Key Channel and hopefully lead them into a trap.

  “Text Mel and tell her to get Jules to set up an ambush or something at the vacant fuel dock down from Burdines.” The red brick building had been abandoned for years, and would make a perfect location to trap the men.

  Trufante looked down at the phone, went to the last message he had sent and started typing a new one. He finished and hit send, then handed the phone back to Mac. The boat was approaching the area where the lone green marker should be, the Niles Channel Bridge just visible in the distance. He could do nothing except move his eyes from the chart plotter to the screen of the cell phone. Neither gave him the results he was after.

  Finally the phone vibrated and he looked down. There was a response from Mel for him to meet at his house. He texted back OK, wondering why she had not used his plan, but knowing he had no option but to trust her.

  They were within a mile from the bridge now. He saw the green marker and kept it to port, slowing the boat in order to navigate the difficult and unmarked channel. Howe Key and the shoal adjacent to it came into view, and he moved the boat into the center of the channel, then turned around to see how close the approaching boat was.

  The smaller boat had clo
sed the gap, having the benefit of being able to follow and letting the lead boat navigate. Mac looked forward at the unmarked channel, worried that if they couldn’t increase speed quickly their pursuers would soon be in gunshot range.

  Just as the thought crossed his mind, he heard a bullet pass over his head.

  He accelerated and steered toward the deeper water adjacent to Summerland Key. They were close to the bridge now, and he was able to line up the bow with the center span and increase speed. It was safer to go under the bridge at a higher speed with the current conditions. Too slow and the waves and current—always stronger near the structures—could toss the boat into one of the piers. With the throttle down, he cleared the bridge and headed toward deeper water, clearing the Newfound Harbor Keys, then turned to port on a course parallel with the land.

  The shadow of the land mass blocked the wind and the water calmed. The waves were two feet lower now, and he was able to push the throttles down and accelerate toward the lights of Marathon in the distance. When they reached the Bahia Honda Bridge he knew he would be standing on his dock in less than twenty minutes.

  “Text Mel back and give our ETA at twenty minutes. Tell her to let Jules know about the boat following us. I’m going to lose them as soon as we hit the channel. The police can take it from there.”

  His thoughts moved to Mel as they entered the Knight’s Key Channel and he slowed for the no-wake zone, passing the gas docks and the empty building. It was the perfect spot for an ambush and he wondered again why they had decided against using it. It was too perfect and he thought about the brevity of Mel’s message. He was about to make the turn into the canal leading to his house when he saw a glint of light from the window of the spare bedroom upstairs.

  He slowed and moved the boat toward the seawall, out of sight of the window. There was no reason anyone would be up there. The room was used only for storage, but it had an unobstructed view of the entrance to the canal. Just then the light shut off.

  “Why we stopping?” Trufante asked.

  “Something’s wrong up there. Go on and scout it out. I saw a light from the bedroom upstairs.” Mac nosed the boat to the seawall.

  “So? Mel texted you to meet her here, why the games?” Mac glared at him and Trufante shrugged his shoulders and jumped up onto the concrete seawall. “How do I find you?”

  “I’ll be here. If Mel is there and everything is OK, get your butt back here fast.” Mac watched as he disappeared in the shadows.

  ***

  Mel flinched when the man turned to look at her and Jules in the back seat. They sat in front of Mac’s house, bound and gagged. She looked over at Jules, who was sitting patiently. Mel knew Jules’s training was telling her to wait for an opportunity rather than waste energy, but she was impatient and fought her restraints, the nylon ties twisting and digging deeper into her wrists with each movement.

  Jules turned to catch her eye and from her facial expressions, Mel thought she was trying to tell her something. But she had no idea what. She did at least follow her lead and stopped struggling with her restraints. The man looked back again, as if sensing something was going on, then turned around and picked up his cell phone.

  He was focused on the screen, the bill from his hat covering his face limiting his peripheral vision. Jules nodded to her, but she had no idea what she wanted. She nodded again as if to say NOW, and Mel did the only thing she could think of. In one swift movement she aimed for the soft part of the guy’s skull below the crown, leaned forward, and head-butted him from behind. He didn’t react, almost as if he hadn’t noticed. Jules wasted no time and swung her legs around and over the seat, forcing as much space as the restraints binding her ankles would allow and spread her knees over his head.

  Mel saw her muscles tense as her body lifted off the seat and twisted against his neck. He seemed to wake from his daze for a second, but then there was a loud snap and he fell limp.

  Mel sat back, giving Jules enough room to pull her legs off the man and swing them back. They sat in silence for a minute, waiting for retribution, either not trusting that the man was dead, or fearing that Commando had heard the fracas and was heading back.

  Finally they realized no one was coming and looked at each other. Still unable to communicate, Mel used her nose to release the door locks and they fumbled with the handles, each falling from the car and landing on the gravel driveway. She looked around for cover and saw the neighbor’s landscape adjacent to their house—a feature Mac had never bothered with. She inched toward the cover of the bushes. Jules followed behind her, and both women were soon concealed behind a row of oleanders. They were panting through the tape over their mouths; their noses straining to keep up with their bodies’ need for air. Slowly their breathing came under control and they looked at each other, wondering what to do next.

  Then they heard the unmistakable sound of a shotgun chambering a round and the motion sensor security light came on.

  “Ladies,” Commando said as he moved toward them.

  Mel rolled to her right, trying to regain the cover of the bushes, but a foot stepped heavily on her back. Commando stood over her, pointing the shotgun at Jules. Her body relaxed, about to accept her fate, when something entered her vision from the neighbor’s driveway, moving fast and launching itself into the man.

  The weight on her back was gone now and she crawled to her knees, trying to see what was happening. A tall man was wrestling their assailant on the ground. She saw Jules move toward them and followed her lead. The tall man was in trouble, underneath Commando now, who wound up to hit him.

  Mel saw Jules tense and slam her body against him. Her momentum was enough to knock him off the other man. Now he lay within striking distance, and Mel thought that if it worked once, why not again. She leaned back and with all the force she had left, head-butted him. He fell lifeless onto the driveway. She looked from him to the man on the ground, who smiled at her.

  “Hell of a head you got there,” Trufante said.

  She grunted through the tape over her mouth. He smiled, showing his grill, and peeled the tape off, then went to Jules and did the same.

  “Never thought old Alan Trufante would be saving the sheriff,” he said.

  “Don’t get all cocky. We’re not done. Now cut these ties.”

  Trufante went to Jules and reached in his pocket for a small knife, which he opened to cut the ties.

  “Drag his body out of sight,” Jules called to Trufante as she picked up the shotgun and released the rounds to see how many remained.

  Trufante hauled the body into the bushes while Jules reloaded. They regrouped in the neighbor’s driveway, out of sight of the house and away from the motion sensor.

  “There’s one more armed man in there. He’s got a sniper’s rifle with a scope,” Jules started to brief them.

  “I’ve got to get back over there.” Trufante pointed to the seawall on the opposite side of the canal. “Mac’s waiting with the ballplayer.”

  “That must be what the sniper is doing. They must have lured him here to take him out and get the player back,” Jules said. “Go on back there and tell him to wait until I flash the dock lights three times. Then it’ll be safe and he can come over. Until then, that sniper’s got eyes on him.”

  Trufante took off and was lost in the shadows. “What now?” Mel asked.

  “We’ve got surprise and a weapon now. That guy’s sitting up there focused on the canal, waiting for Mac to come in. If he hasn’t been down here yet, he has no idea what happened.”

  Mel thought for a minute. “You want me to distract him and you can sneak up and take him out?”

  Jules laughed. “Listen to you, Melanie Woodson. Your dad would be proud.” She looked at the house. “I can’t legally ask you to risk yourself like that, me being the sheriff and all.”

  “No worries. Just tell me what to do.”

  The plan was simple. Mel gave Jules a few minutes’ head start, then walked up to the front door like she lived th
ere. She ignored the auction notice and tried the handle. The door was locked, but she reached down and lifted a shell on the stoop, took the key and opened the door, careful to make enough noise to be heard and distract the shooter from Jules, who should be in the master bedroom by now. She banged around downstairs until she heard footsteps above her.

  “Mac.” She yelled, as if she expected him to be here. Nothing happened. The footsteps seemed to stop. Jules had told her that under no conditions was she to go upstairs, but nothing was happening.

  She started to climb the steps, again calling Mac’s name. No sound came from above, and she slowed her ascent, worried the gunman might be waiting for her. She was almost paralyzed with fear as she reached the door at the top of the step, and fell backwards when the gun went off.

  She caught herself on the rail and realized the shot was not at her.

  “Clear,” she heard Jules yell, and climbed back up and opened the door. It didn’t move at first, but she pushed harder and saw the blood pooled on the floor.

  Chapter 27

  “Tie it off,” Mac yelled at Trufante as he stopped the boat at the seawall and jumped onto the dock. He didn’t look back as he raced to the house, took the back stairs two at a time, and pulled the door open. Not sure what to expect, he crept through the bedroom with the shotgun ready, then moved to the door and nudged it enough to see through the main room to where Mel and Jules were.

  They stood by the door, hovering over a man lying in a pool of blood on the floor. Mel turned and rose as soon as he entered, and he ran to her. Holding her tightly, he let her warm tears drip down his neck as they embraced. Finally she pulled away, and he saw the distress on her face.

  “We’ve got to do some damage control, and fast,” Jules said. “There’s three bodies here and several shots were fired. Commando was an amateur, but these CIA guys are pros and there’s always a good chance that a neighbor will call about the gunshots.” She went to the land line on the counter, lifted the receiver, and started to dial. “I’m going to call this in and say that I’m in pursuit and following them to the bait house. That’ll give me some backup to help Marvin and the girls and it ought to give you enough time to clean this mess up and get out of here. If you’re here when the police arrive, they’re sure to think you did it. And if I’m here and you’re not in handcuffs, my credibility is shot. It’s better if we’re all gone.”