The words were devoured by the roar of the engine as Lucy sped away.
Chapter 10
MEGAN WATCHED HER
mom ride off on the wave runner and wasn’t sure if she was angry with Lucy for leaving her behind or glad that there was a chance to save Mateo. Both. Plus, a bit of fear—for Lucy and Mateo. Whoever had taken Mateo and Pastor Fleming, it was obvious they were out of control and not afraid to hurt people to get what they wanted.
Mateo’s uncle jogged over to the dock. He showed Megan a cell phone. “Found this near the car but no Mateo.”
“We think he’s out there. That’s the pastor’s boat.” She pointed to the boat that was gaining speed. Lucy was standing on her wave runner, leaning forward as if trying to get the most speed possible from it.
Mr. Romero shielded his eyes from the sun. “I can’t see him.”
“You with that crazy lady, Jorge?” the dock attendant asked. “What’s going on?”
Megan tried her best to make out the figure driving the boat, but it was too far away and shielded by the tinted glass of the cabin. Then she saw a pair of binoculars hanging from a peg inside the attendant’s shack. She grabbed them. “Okay if I borrow these?”
She didn’t wait for his answer, figured Mr. Romero would do the explaining, and ran to the end of the dock. The boat operator had spotted Lucy and sped up, defying the no wake signs. Lucy was struggling with the wave runner as she drew closer to the boat’s wake. Megan focused on the boat, trying to see the man at the wheel but the sun was starting to set, which meant she was looking directly into it.
Tall, lean, maybe dark-haired. That was about all she could tell for certain.
The two men joined her. “Y’all know she’s not going to get very far,” the attendant said. “That runner was just returned and I didn’t have a chance to gas her up yet.”
Megan shifted her focus back to Lucy who was bent over the controls of the runner but it was slowing, losing momentum as the boat wake tossed it. Then she looked back at the boat. The driver was making a sharp turn, aiming right for Lucy.
“He’s going to run her down. Mom!” she shouted. Not as if Lucy could hear her.
“Oh damn. I’m not responsible for this,” the attendant said as the boat headed at Lucy.
The all leaned forward, straining to see everything. The boat sped up, its bow rising in the water as it charged over its own wake. Lucy’s wave runner slowed, floundering in the choppy water. She kept working the controls, trying to maneuver out of the way.
Megan held her breath as the boat got closer and closer. “Mom!” This time it wasn’t a shout but more of a gasp. The boat looked so much larger compared to Lucy on the small wave runner.
Finally, at the last moment, Lucy dove off the wave runner just as the boat sped over it, raising enough white water that Megan lost sight of both the runner and Lucy. She gripped the binoculars tight, straining to see Lucy come up out of the water.
The boat sped away but still no Lucy. Megan stifled a sob but it caught in her throat, making it hard to breathe.
C’mon, Mom,
she urged the empty water.
Behind Megan, Mr. Romero and the attendant got a flat-bottomed boat ready to take out. “She has a vest, I made sure of that,” the attendant was saying. “I’m not liable for any of this.”
“Shut up, Freddy,” Mr. Romero said. The sound of an engine roared to life just as Megan saw what she’d been praying for. A spark of orange. Lucy bobbed up out of the water, coughing, waving a hand.
“She’s okay!” Relief broke through her dam of fear. Megan dropped the binoculars to wave with both hands. The wave runner floated on its side in the choppy wake. The boat was in the distance, skimming over the water, almost out of sight.
Sirens sounded behind them in the parking area, but Megan ignored them as she watched Mr. Romero skillfully maneuver the flat-bottomed boat out to where Lucy was treading water. He helped her in and began heading back to shore.
“Could’ve at least towed my runner for me. Now I’m gonna have to go after it myself.”
Megan handed the binoculars back to the attendant with a glower. “That’s my mom who almost got herself killed trying to save two men. I think your wave runner can wait a few minutes.”
“She’s really FBI?”
“She really is.”
He hooked his thumbs in his waistband. “Well, okay, then. Guess the FBI can pay for this mess.”
Megan restrained herself from slapping him. As the adrenaline fled her system, anxiety took its place. Lucy hadn’t saved anyone’s life. The bad guys got away. They’d lost Pastor Fleming and Mateo.
If they were even still alive.
<><><>
MATEO WOKE TO
darkness. And strange smells: gasoline and salt water and sweet, too sweet, lilacs. The world churned around him, bouncing up and down, side to side, but he couldn’t see why. Everything was black.
Nausea gripped him and he clenched his jaws to hold it back. He was lying—no, that wasn’t right—he was sitting on a rough floor. Scratchy like sandpaper against his jeans. If only it would stop moving.
A violent roll tossed him onto his side. He tried to brace himself but his hands were caught behind him. Handcuffs? How the hell… Why couldn’t he remember anything?
Panic dulled by a weird sense of lethargy made every thought a struggle, as if his mind were caught in the pluff mud that acted like quicksand in the island’s tidal marshes. When trapped in pluff, you couldn’t struggle. The only way out was to relax to try to float free or to have someone help pull you out.
Help. That’s what he needed. He tried to call out, but his mouth was dry and only a cough emerged. Drugs. Someone must have drugged him. Was that why he was handcuffed? Was he under arrest?
Then why couldn’t he see? He rubbed his face against the rough wall beside him. Felt cloth. That’s where the sickly sweet lilac smell was coming from. Okay. Not blind. Just in the dark with a pillowcase or something over his head.
Cops didn’t do that. What happened?
He tried to stretch his body out to explore his prison but couldn’t. The walls weren’t far enough apart for him to roll over without banging his shoulders and the length barely allowed him to curl up or sit halfway up, legs bent. He couldn’t tell where the ceiling was.
Another sudden lurch, as if the entire vehicle—he was moving, moving fast and there was an engine roaring above the pounding in his head—had jumped a curb. Not a curb. Waves. Boat. Water.
That wasn’t right, was it? He remembered being on his bike. Had to hurry, he was meeting a girl. Pretty girl. Young but interesting.
Fear surged through the fog and he sat up. Was she here, too? “Megan,” he called, his voice muffled and barely carrying. “Anyone there?”
No answer, just the boat bouncing as it slowed. Think, he told himself. Remember. What happened?
Megan. He was going to meet Megan. But first… his mind sloughed through muck thicker than pluff… first… What had happened first?
A vicious roll, as the boat spun, sent him reeling, headfirst against the compartment wall. The pain flashed red against the black that smothered him.
Blood. That’s what happened. He couldn’t remember how or why or where or who but he remembered blood. Lots of blood.
Fear spiked through the drug-induced haze that held his mind captive. All that blood. Someone was dead.
He shuddered. And he might be next.
Chapter 11
LUCY KNEW SHE
had many faults—leaping before looking being among the top ten—but an easily bruised ego wasn’t usually one of them. Of course that was before she’d let their subject get away with two hostages, at least one potentially gravely injured. Not to mention needing to be hauled out of the water and ferried to shore sopping wet.
She was surprised Officer Gant didn’t burst out laughing when she stepped back onto solid ground. But he was too busy grilling Megan.
“You couldn’t see anything? Freddy said you had his binoculars.”
Megan was shaking she was so upset. “I’m sorry. The sun was in my eyes and the windows were tinted. I couldn’t see his face. Only that it was a man.”
“Well, at least we can narrow things down. It was a man, not a little green monster from Mars.”
Lucy rushed forward to defend Megan. “She’s a minor. You’ve no right to question her without me present, Gant. Give her a second. She’ll tell you everything she knows.”
Megan gripped Lucy’s hand and took a breath. “I only saw one man. His head was obscured by the top of the cabin, so I’d guess he was close to six feet or taller. He wasn’t black, but wasn’t pale. Either very tan or brown-skinned.” She thought for a moment. “I’m not sure if he had dark hair or if he was wearing a dark colored ball cap. I just saw a flash of black when he leaned forward.”
Gant took notes, stopped when Megan went silent, and turned his glare onto Lucy. “And you? Sounds like you got fairly close to the boat.”
“Too close—all I could see was the hull, I couldn’t make out the man at all. Does it have GPS we can track?”
“Already checked. It’s turned off.” He narrowed his eyes. “Go change into dry clothes. The chief wants you both down at the station for formal interviews.”
Lucy fished her car keys out of her sodden messenger bag—thankfully, she’d had all the compartments zipped shut before her unscheduled swim. The only thing that might be permanently damaged was her phone. “We’ll be there.”
Mateo’s uncle followed them to the parking lot. “Thank you for trying.”
“I only wish I’d been more help.” Lucy thought for a moment. “Are you going back to the house?”
“Yes. The police want us there in case—” He faltered, obviously thinking of the worst reason on earth why the police would want a family handy.
“I’m sure Mateo’s all right,” Megan said, touching Jorge’s arm.
His worry didn’t ease. “They were talking like he might somehow be involved. When I gave them his phone, they said it was evidence.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean evidence he committed any crime,” Lucy hastened to reassure him. “But he worked at the Flemings’ house on a regular basis. He might have seen something before today and not even know it was important.”
Jorge frowned. “I guess. Maybe.”
“I know you said Mateo didn’t have a computer, but what about social media? Did he have any favorite sites?” Usually, kids Mateo’s age, their online activity provided a more complete picture of who they were and what was really going on in their life than any interview with parents.
“He posted photos—loved taking pictures with his phone, especially of houses. Wants to be an architect some day.”
Photos often had geotagging embedded in them. Which would give some idea of Mateo’s movements. Not much to go on, but in a case like this, you never knew what might help. Jorge gave Lucy Mateo’s access codes, so she should be able to take a look at his emails, texts, and any remotely stored images even though his phone was in evidence. After all, he’d already given her permission to go through everything on the cell. She made a note to grab her laptop from their hotel room. She had a feeling they’d be doing a lot of waiting as the night went on and she could work from the police station as well as anywhere.
“Thanks,” she told Jorge. “I’ll call if I find anything helpful.”
She and Megan got into the car and headed past the shopping center to their hotel. “He’s right,” Megan said. “They think Mateo might be involved, don’t they? Some kind of inside man?”
“Why do you think that?”
“Well, his mom and aunt told me there was a lot of money in Pastor Fleming’s safe. I mean, a whole lot. Tens of thousands of dollars from these church loans he was going to pay back. Makes it easy to blame someone like Mateo who knew the money was there and had access. But,” she twisted in her seat to face Lucy, “I know he didn’t do it. He’d never have tortured Pastor Fleming to get the combination to the safe. He had the keys to the house—he could have easily have gotten the combination without resorting to violence. And why would he take both the pastor and the money? If he did do it, why not just run?”
Lucy noticed Megan didn’t bring up what was really bothering her. “If he is guilty, would he be foolish enough to set up an alibi with the daughter of a FBI agent?”
“Right. We would have known if he was lying to us, trying to use us. Wouldn’t we? Of course we would,” she answered her own question. “Mateo’s not stupid. He wouldn’t risk you getting the FBI involved.”
“So you don’t think Mateo is one of the bad guys.” Lucy tried to keep the question out of her voice. If she hadn’t met the boy and if he hadn’t gotten Megan involved, it would be so much easier to stay objective and let the facts sort themselves out.
But Megan needed reassurance. Now. Despite her outward confidence and her aura of maturity, she’d be forever shaken if Mateo had betrayed her. If Megan couldn’t trust her instincts about people, how would she ever be able to trust anyone?
That was the path Lucy walked, borderline paranoia. Only, thanks to Nick and Megan, she never made it very far, as much as she sometimes wanted to barricade her family and live by the policeman’s credo of trust no one, assume nothing.
It was a life she would never wish on her daughter.
“No. I don’t think Mateo is one of the bad guys,” Megan finally said. “Do you?”
Lucy thought for a moment, weighing all the inconsistencies of the crime scene. “I think we need to see where the evidence leads. For me, right now, it’s not pointing in that direction. But that doesn’t mean we can interfere with Chief Hayden’s investigation.”
Megan seemed disappointed in Lucy’s lack of commitment, but nodded. “Okay.” She glanced at Lucy. “I’m glad you’re here, Mom.”
Chapter 12
AFTER SHE CHANGED
clothes, swapping the sodden khakis and blouse she’d worn to meet Mateo’s family for a pair of shorts and a polo top, Lucy stepped out onto the balcony for privacy and called Nick on Megan’s phone—hers was totally soaked and she didn’t want to risk turning it on until it had dried.