Deep Into The Night (Hartz Island Series) (28 page)

Chapter Forty-Four

J
ack left Kip with the District Attorney, who was also a Deputy Sheriff, at the Ferry Dock Café. Cassie had just served the women a big bowl of steaming rice and a pot of tea. Jeannie placed an entire apple pie and a coffee pot on the men’s table. From what Jack could tell, everyone seemed content for the moment.

When he arrived at the compound, they’d just cuffed four men and read them their rights. As far as Jack was concerned, they didn’t have any, but that was his opinion. He walked up to the first guy and took his knife, sliced his shirt open, and ripped it off.

“If it’s good enough for the women, it’s good enough for you.” Jack proceeded to yank open all the men’s shirts. “Don’t let them have any shoes either.”

“Little pissed are you?” Ray grinned. “Any word on Armstrong?” Before Jack answered, Ray’s cellphone rang, and when he finished listening, he jammed it in his pocket. “Got my answer, you’re driving.”

Jack parked next to Montana’s Saab by the Ryan’s shed. The men jogged to the neighboring property and dropped behind the stacked wood.

“Psst. Up here.” She waved her hand through an opening of the deck.

Jack and Ray joined her.

“I’m thinking of cuffing you to a tree,” whispered Ray.

“Seriously?”

“Very.”

“He’s in the house by himself. The security lights aren’t on.”

“Do not get off this deck. Have I made myself clear?”

“Perfectly.”

“Let’s go knock and talk,” said Ray.

Ray and Jack pounded on Armstrong’s door, demanding he open up. A porch light came on, and Armstrong looked out the window. After a moment, he opened the door with only a towel wrapped around his hips.

Before Ray got one word out, Armstrong sneered and said, “You don’t have a fuckin’ thing on me.”

Ray asked him a couple of questions, and Armstrong answered with derogatory comments. Fed up, Ray said, “We’re done. You can do your talking at the station.”

Jack cuffed him while Ray read him his rights.

A car slammed into the garbage cans by the house, and the driver’s door flew open. Margery Anne exited, screaming profanity, marching towards them.

“Mrs. Black, stay back.
Stay back now
,” Ray shouted.

She stopped. “You lying piece of shit.”

“Mrs. Black, I’m ordering you to stay back.”

“You’re nothing but a fucking whore. You couldn’t get enough of me,” Armstrong mocked her.

She remained motionless for a moment. “You will rot in hell!” Her rage fueled her forward, and her trench coat gapped open, revealing complete nudity.

“Ah, Christ,” muttered Ray, attempting to stop her, but she plunged forward, around him.

“Hell will not be good enough for you,” she screamed, pulling a gun out of her pocket and shooting Armstrong three times in the chest.

He slumped forward, and her last shot hit Jack. Blood gushed everywhere.

“Shit,” yelled Ray. He kicked Margery Anne’s feet away and grappled her to the ground. After he cuffed her, he shouted, “Montana, I’m ordering you off the deck and over here.”

She ran across the yard. “Ray?”

“Call Kip.”

“I already did.” She knelt down by Jack’s head, touching his forehead. “Jack?”

He opened his eyes and groaned. Blood covered his body. Montana unzipped his jacket, looking for the wound but found none, other than a pierced hole in his vest.

“I’m okay.” He let out a long, loud breath. “It’s not my blood. See if he’s dead.”

Montana leaned over Armstrong’s body. There was nothing left of his aura to even check. His spirit was on its way to being caught in a web of hell, just like Margery Anne predicted, never to be released.

“Is he dead?” asked Ray.

“Yes,” she replied without checking for a pulse.

Kip handed Cassie his phone and nodded for Jeannie to join him. She grabbed a plate of heaping cookies and came through the swinging doors.

“She needs her privacy.” Kip put his arm around her and gave her a squeeze. “How much more baking are you going to do?” He smiled at her. “Not that we’re complaining.”

“When I calm down.” She placed the plate on the women’s table. They all smiled shyly and took one quickly. Jeannie walked back over to where Kip stood. “What’s going to happen now?”

“Not much until the ferries start running in the morning. Margery Anne will go in one cell and the men in the other. The volunteer firemen are wrapping up Armstrong. Everybody needs to be transferred over to Friday Harbor. It’s going to be a long morning.”

Cassie wiped her eyes before pushing through the swinging doors. She managed a smile, trying to hide how shaken she was and handed Kip back his phone. “Jack wants to talk to you.”

She returned with Jeannie to the kitchen. The timer buzzed for the next batch of cookies to come out of the oven. Neither woman said much. They prepped another cookie sheet, and Jeannie popped it in the oven. Cassie stuffed pieces of cookie in her mouth.

“Is this how you deal with it?” she asked Jeannie, pointing around. “I mean baking, not eating.”

“Yes. But I do both. To me, food is comfort.”

She finished the cookie and grabbed another one. “He likes his job and he’s good at it. Everyone should do what they like to do, right?”

Cassie sighed, shaking her head gently. “I might need to buy bigger jeans if this continues. Who would have ever thought?” She stuffed another cookie in her mouth.

Chapter Forty-Five

F
reshly showered and in a change of clothes, Jack entered the brightly lit Ferry Dock café. The twelve rescued women had their heads on their arms and were asleep at the table by the window. Montana was in the corner giving a statement to the Deputy Sheriff. Jeannie and Kip sat together at a table in between it all. Jeannie put her finger to her lips and pointed to the kitchen.

He flew through the swinging doors like a football player scoring a touchdown. Not even the noise of the doors banging woke her. Cassie had her head cradled on a pillow at a small table. After watching the vile temper of MAMW and Armstrong, more than anything he just wanted Cassie, the way her eyes crinkled with a smile when she saw him and how she kissed him with so much enthusiasm. At this point, he didn’t care if she spoke in one of her goofy accents.
Nothing like being shot to remind you what you want
. And he wanted her.

Jack knelt next to her and touched her cheek. “Hey.”

Her eyes fluttered, so he touched her cheek again.

Now wide opened and focused, she cried, “Oh, Jack.” She threw her arms around him.

He winced but didn’t care. Jack picked her up and cradled her in his arms and kissed her like tomorrow would never come. Finally, he pulled away and held her face, but he wanted to taste her all over again.

“Someone’s going to tell us to get a room,” she murmured. Resting her head on his chest, she sighed and then choked. “I hear your heart.” Cassie burst into tears.

He’d been impressed with her calmness earlier when he told her he’d been shot. Her reaction now seemed more normal. Slowly, she calmed down and sniffled a few times, wiping her nose on his T-shirt.

“Where does it hurt the most?” she asked.

“Where your hand is pressing on my chest.”

“Oh.” She moved it. “You could have been killed.”

His voice was calm, his gaze steady. “But I wasn’t. I had my vest on. That vest is like MasterCard. You don’t want to leave home without it.”

She laughed and hiccupped at the same time.

“Are you ready to go home? I told Ray I’d be back here at ten.”

“Yes. I think I’m too tired to even walk.”

Jack grinned. It was so nice to hear her being normal. “Climb on my back and I’ll give you a piggy-back ride.”

Through the swinging doors they went. Cassie waved to Kip and Jeannie.

At Blue Heron Lane, Jack stopped. “Guess what?”

“I don’t have to duck down.”

Instead of concealing the truck, Jack pulled up left of the house with a view of the water. For a moment, they sat quietly, looking at the water. He reached for her hand and held it.

“It all seems so innocent,” remarked Cassie. “Tranquil.”

“You never know what goes on behind closed doors.”

“Hmm. Speaking of closed doors…exactly how tired are you?”

Jack laughed. “I thought you were tired.”

She grabbed his face and kissed him with a hotness that surprised him, and he didn’t hesitate to return it.

“Push the seat back,” she demanded and started climbing over.

“Will you do this every time I get shot?” he asked, his voice ragged, pulling at her top.

“Is that what this is about?” She yanked at his pants.

“Hell, I don’t know, but it works for me.”

Chapter Forty-Six

C
assie snuggled into the covers. The morning sun streamed through the window. She stretched and sighed, knowing it was time to get up. Jack was on the phone with someone, and she needed a shower.

The hot water felt good, energizing her tired body. Where in the world did Jack get his energy? At the moment, she felt like she could sleep all day.

“Hey,” he called.

Cassie peaked around the shower curtain. With his phone to his ear, he held up a cup of coffee. She stuck her hand out and took it.
Yeah, Mom, it’s the little things isn’t it?
Sipping her drink, she let the water beat against her back. Invigorated, she shut off the water, got dressed, and headed to the kitchen.

Looking like he’d had eight hours of sleep, Jack smiled when he saw her.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“It’s still early. Seven thirty. Would you like to take a walk on the beach? It might be the only time we’ll have alone today.”

“Love to. I’ll grab some boots.” Next to the boot box was a wadded up black garbage bag. She peeked inside and gulped. Jack’s blood covered clothes and his vest. She closed it and called, “Do you want boots too?”

“Sure.”

Hand in hand, they walked along the wet sand with the waves coming up around by their ankles. Jack wadded up pieces of bread and threw them up in the air. The Seagulls swooped down, chattering up a storm. They walked until they came to a driftwood log where they sat.

“We need to talk about last night.” He nudged her with his elbow.

“Do you mean once we got home or before that?”

“Before.”

She sighed and squeezed his hand tight, not letting go. “You mean getting shot.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re worried about my reaction.”

“Yes.”

“You know,” Cassie held his gaze, nodding. “I’m okay with it all. I really am. That’s just part of your job, and I wouldn’t want you doing anything else. You like what you do, and I think they’re really lucky to have you.”

A slow smile formed on his lips.

“I can’t promise you I won’t fall apart once in a while. Can you handle that?”

“Oh, yeah. I can.”

“Then I can handle you being Wyatt Earp, lawman of the west.” Cassie wasn’t sure where this conversation was headed, but more than anything she just wanted to kiss him, so she did.

He didn’t seem to mind. Grinning, Jack grabbed her hand and they headed back.

The Ferry Dock café buzzed with activity. Three news trucks were parked out front: one from Bellingham and two from Victoria, B.C. Seattle hadn’t arrived yet. Kip had a coffee pot in his hand going from table to table. Jeannie stood behind the counter looking exhausted. Edwina poked her head through the window, calling for Jeannie with another order.

“Just give me an apron, a piece of toast, and I can help,” said Cassie.

“Thank you. Montana is also helping. She’s in the back.”

Cassie found Montana adjusting a blond wig over her own hair. She glanced at Cassie. “That’s just too many news people and reporters for me. I’d just as soon stay anonymous.”

The feeling was mutual. Cassie tucked her hair up under the auburn wig she found in Montana’s box. Stuffing a piece of toast in her mouth, she tied up her apron and started through the swinging doors and paused. She turned back to Montana and with her best southern drawl she said, “Just call me Sammi. That’s Sammi with an i.”

Cassie took over the coffee pouring from Kip and reiterated her new name. He smiled and joined Jack. When she stopped at their table, she said, “Hi. I’m Sammi. That’s with an i. What can I get you all?”

Jack grinned and placed his order of bacon and eggs.

“Oatmeal would be healthier.” She left.

People came in and out all morning. Finally, at eleven, there was a break. All the local news stations, including Seattle, had arrived, and a press conference was taking place outside the compound gates.

Jeannie, Cassie, and Montana stood behind the counter. In trooped two older men.

Jeannie sighed. “My Odd Men’s Club.”

They both went to the pine cupboard in the corner and picked out their cups, settling in at the counter. Jeannie poured their coffee.

“I thought you weren’t open any more on a Monday. I’m glad to see you changed your mind.”

“Amos, I didn’t. We have extenuating circumstances, and I felt the café should be opened to accommodate everyone. Next week it will be closed again.”

“Is it true about Mrs. Black? I think this is the first murder we’ve ever had on the island. Isn’t that something, our minister’s wife is a murderer.”

“How did you hear about it, Al?” Jeannie asked.

“My son. He’s on the volunteer Fire Department. He said he helped bag the guy. Who in their right mind would come to the door nude?”

The two men discussed at length all the events. Jeannie stood back and just listened. Cassie continued taking orders from the customers filtering in. Finally, the café was too crowded for the two older men and they left.

Kip, Jack, and Ray stood back in the shadows with ball caps and sunglasses on. They’d had a big laugh about Montana and Cassie wearing wigs but agreed with them. No one wanted to be in the spotlight. In the middle of the press conference, they slipped out and headed back to the main building. Jack wanted to see what was in room three and four. Not only were there steel doors with electronic locks, but also deadbolts. Finally, they were able to get one of the doors opened.

The men stood there and gaped. Thousands of DVDs, lined the walls. Computers, packing material, and shipping boxes were at one end. Several boxes had been prepared to be shipped.

Jack sucked in his breath. He had a sick feeling he knew what he was going to find. He pulled one of the sleeved DVDs, read the title, and then several others to make sure. He handed them to Ray to insert into the computer and pull up on the screen. They’d uncovered a high-end multimillion dollar porn operation. Unrepeatable words poured out of the men’s mouths watching images of young children.

“Last night I wasn’t thinking why Armstrong had so many dishes and the size of them. He downloaded and up-linked. Those dishes were never detected on any of the computer images.”

“It’s now making sense with those communication satellite dishes that he mounted on that rental house last spring. He was able to download straight in here from any part of the world. There was something so squirrely about him, and I couldn’t put my finger on it,” Kip said. “Interpol will find this interesting.”

“Hopefully the Black woman is right in that Armstrong will rot in hell,” said Ray. “The murder was clear-cut, only the motive might not be.”

“If I’d known about all this, I might have shot him in the balls ahead of Margery Anne,” declared Jack. “Death is too kind.”

Using a crowbar, they were finally able to enter the other locked door. Bad had been the word used by the rescued woman. Bad was too mild. What Armstrong didn’t download or smuggle, he filmed. Clothing, paraphernalia, and anything having to do with the dark side of sex filled the room.

“I take that back. Balls and dick,” said Jack, totally disgusted.

Jack called Canadian Border Services and informed Dan Williams. His group had been making arrests all morning. One of his agents had arrived on Hartz Island and was interviewing the women. They were North Korean women smuggled into South Korea but had entered Canada legally with the employment opportunity program. Technically, they’d been kidnapped from Canada into the USA. Lots of red tape for which agency would handle which aspect.

At four o’clock, Kip came through the café entrance. The last customer had just left, and Cassie was cleaning the table. Jeannie and Montana stood behind the counter. Kip turned the
Open
sign to
Closed
and locked the door.

“You’re all done for the day,” he announced. He had no argument from the three of them. “I’ve arranged for pizza and beer on the boat at six thirty p.m. sharp. I’ll pick you all up fifteen minutes before.” He left out the front, shutting it firmly.

“Let’s go hide in the kitchen just in case someone comes to the door,” said Jeannie.

Cassie and Montana followed her. The timer buzzed, and Jeannie laughed.

“Well, there is still baking to be done. I actually find it relaxing. You two take a seat.”

After pulling the pies out of the oven, she went into her pantry and came back with a bottle of red wine and three wine glasses. “Right now it is five o’clock somewhere. Montana open and pour, please.”

Cassie emptied her pockets of tip money. Counting it all out, she laughed. “The stronger my southern accent the bigger my tip. Jack left me a twenty.”

“I don’t think that counts,” replied Montana, sorting through her change.

Cassie opened Jeannie’s laptop and surfed the Internet. “What news stations were here? Maybe they’ve posted something.”

“KOMO News, KING 5, and KIRO 7,” replied Jeannie. “Also, Bellingham and Victoria.”

“Oh, my.” Cassie turned the laptop around so Jeannie and Montana could see the screen. She hit the play button.

An orange jump-suited Margery Anne was being led away with the reporter stating, “A plea of not guilty by insanity will be filed in court.”

“Montana, you might get called as a witness,” said Jeannie.

“I hope not.”

“Did she seem insane to you?”

“No, more like possessed.”

Montana wouldn’t look her in the eye. There were times not to ask, and this seemed like one of them. Often what wasn’t being said was just as important.

Kip timed their arrival at the marina to coincide with pizza delivery. Stepping onboard the yacht, Jeannie was glad to see Kip had set up everything in the upper salon. Furthermore, she was thrilled the heater decided to work and filter up. The men did most of the talking with the women listening. What information Cassie hadn’t been able to get off the computer, they gleaned from the guys. Jeannie watched Montana closely. Everyone was tired, so her behavior wasn’t abnormal, but still, she thought, something was amiss. Each time MAMW’s name was mentioned, Montana squirmed.

“So what about the kayakers?” Montana asked. “Are they tied into all this? We saw them on the beach. You can’t let that go.”

“That’s a good question.” Ray shrugged.

“With Armstrong dead, how will we know?” pondered Jack.

“My guess is the Korean men won’t talk. Hopefully, Margery Anne will,” Ray speculated.