Sweet Dreams Boxed Set (136 page)

Shelly straightened, holding a pistol. Gant shouted something but his words were buried in the noise of the outboard. He slowed, throttled down the engine to idle, drew a weapon, and stood.

“Drop the gun, Shelly!” Gant shouted. Shelly fired twice at him. He returned fire as did Lucy, but the rocking raft and aiming up at a moving target, all she hit was the side of the boat. Shelly vanished. Lucy wasn’t sure if Gant hit her or if she’d dropped to the deck for cover.

She glanced past the stern of the boat to Gant’s boat. He was slumped against the tiller, the boat pivoting in response, speeding up and aiming past Fleming’s boat, directly at her raft. The outboard whined as it revved up, fighting the mud and silt, bouncing once as it hit something—Lucy prayed it was a log or alligator or anything except Hayden who she had lost sight of once she went overboard.

The impact sent Gant reeling over the side, leaving the outboard racing out of control. It skimmed past the stern of Fleming’s boat and rammed the Zodiac, flinging the lighter raft into the air and upending it. Lucy half dove, half flew into the water, aiming away from the outboard’s propeller.

Except it wasn’t really water—it was a thick goo, more like quicksand than anything. Gant’s boat crashed into the boardwalk behind her, the Zodiac spun to a stop, turned upside down—the bag of money vanished into the mud and her Maglite gone with it, leaving her flailing, gasping, with only the light from Fleming’s boat cabin to orient herself.

The mud sucked her under before she had a chance to hold her breath. A nasty taste filled her mouth and she panicked for a moment as waves churned the water above her.

Calm, focus
, Nick’s voice came in the dark. The memory of watching the crabs skitter over the mud and the alligator glide through it flashed through her. She stopped kicking, realizing that was only making things worse. The mud caught her feet, dragging her down.

She straightened, pulling her head above the water and hauled in a breath. It was like quicksand, she thought. The impact of the outboard crashing into the raft had left her only a few feet from Fleming’s boat. Spitting the foul grit from her mouth she performed a slow-motion combination of wading and swimming. The mud fought her, sucking greedily at her feet, taking her shoes, but bare feet were the least of her worries. Thankfully, she’d kept hold of her gun, but she needed to eliminate the threat that was Shelly and then find Gant and Hayden.

Her ears were clogged with mud but she heard splashing from the opposite side of the boat. Either Gant or Hayden—hopefully both—still alive. Above her Shelly was slamming around in the cabin, swearing, obviously unharmed.

Just as Lucy reached the small dive platform to the side of the large outboard engine, the engine gave a cough and sputter. Fearful of the propeller, Lucy quickly hauled herself up onto the platform, landing not with the tactical posture she’d hoped for but more like a muddy whale beaching itself. From inside the cabin, Shelly shouted a curse and the engine roared to life in response.

The boat lurched forward then jerked to a stop again, the engine whining then quieting to a fretful gasping noise. Shelly had forgotten about the anchors. Lucy grabbed hold of the railing and climbed to her feet, one hand holding her gun. She edged forward onto the main deck toward the open cabin door.

Shelly was at the wheel, fighting the throttle, her hair in a tangled frenzy as she cried in frustration.

“It’s over,” Lucy said. No sign of Shelly’s gun, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She planted her feet and aimed. “Hands in the air where I can see them.”

Shelly spun around. Her hands were empty, which was the only thing that saved Lucy from shooting her.

“It’s not my fault,” she whimpered. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

“Turn the engine off,” Lucy ordered.

Shelly nodded, tears and mascara streaming down her face, and shut the engine off. Lucy moved forward, but she knew she’d won. Shelly didn’t resist as Lucy put her face down on the deck and restrained her with a set of zipcuffs.

A banging coming from a cabinet inside the cabin door grabbed her attention. Holding her pistol at the ready, she opened it. Mateo rolled out, his hands cuffed behind him.

“Pastor Fleming,” he gasped. “You have to help him. He’s dying.”

Lucy opened the door to the bathroom. Fleming was on the floor, curled around the toilet, his color ashen and his breathing coming hard and fast, smelling sweet.

The boat rocked abruptly. Lucy whirled to face the new threat, but it was Gant at the diver’s platform. “A little help here?”

He hauled Hayden’s still form with him through the mud. As Lucy rushed to help them both on board, the sound of new, louder, powerful engines thundered through the night. Blinding spotlights pierced the darkness.

“Sheriff’s department!” a man’s voice sounded, amplified by a bullhorn.

Lucy couldn’t stop her laughter, mud streaming down her clothing, inside and out, sliding from her hair into her face. Better late than never.

Chapter 24

The sheriff’s department had a tactical medic with them who quickly got Fleming stabilized, staunched the bleeding from the gash in Hayden’s head where she’d hit it going overboard, and dispatched them along with Mateo to the hospital on the mainland while his colleagues ferried Shelly, Lucy, and Gant ashore. Gant had been hit in his vest, which was why he’d lost control of his boat, but refused to leave for the hospital until the others were taken care of.

Lucy and Gant were relegated to the back of a deputy’s cruiser, which would need a serious hosing down to get the dead-fish pluff mud stink out of it. The mud had slipped and slid into every crevice of Lucy’s clothing, making a squishing noise each time she shifted her weight.

“I can’t believe—the chief,” Gant said. “We’ve worked together for almost a decade.”

“When did her sister move here?”

“Three years ago. Should’ve seen through his Ponzi scheme, but they were always so good about paying folks back. We all thought we were doing something good—helping others. So we kept on reinvesting.”

“He paid the first ones in with the new money and that whet your appetite, until—”

“Until it all fell apart.” He made a small noise. “Do you think the chief was she in on it the whole time?”

As if being a FBI agent gave Lucy special psychic powers. She thought of the way Shelly ordered Hayden around on the boat and how Hayden hesitated, balked each step of the way. “No. If she’d have known earlier, she would have paid off her debts after her husband died. I think she was just as surprised as anyone when she saw the blood at her sister’s house. But after, when things went wrong, I think that’s when Shelly realized she couldn’t finish it alone. She convinced Hayden to help.”

“Family.” The word emerged with a sigh. “Hard to resist.”

They sat in silence for a while. It was strange being in the back of a patrol car—the seat was hard plastic, not comfortable at all. And she didn’t like the claustrophobic feeling of being confined. Of course, that was the entire point of the design.

“So your daughter, she’s how old again?” Gant finally said.

“Fourteen. Why?”

“Pretty smart for a teenager, putting this all together.” He glanced over at her, weighing his words. “She insisted I listen, was a bit of a—”

“Stubborn?” Lucy supplied when he stopped short of using a term men had used to label her through her entire professional career.

He jerked his chin in a nod. “Yeah. Definitely stubborn. Ferocious even.”

Lucy smiled. Another adjective often applied to her by other law enforcement officers—not always as a compliment. “She gets that from her mother.”

***

At the ER, the nurses quickly realized that if they were going to adequately assess Lucy for any injuries—she had none, but they wouldn’t take the word of a civilian—they’d need to allow her to shower first. Which was just fine with her. It felt so good getting all the goo out of her hair and sluiced from her body. When she emerged, the nurses had taken all her dirty clothes but left her a clean pair of scrubs and a bag with all her belongings.

Feeling like a refugee, barefoot and soaking wet, Lucy limped down the hall to the waiting area, her ankle screaming for mercy.

Screams that were immediately stifled when she saw Megan waiting for her. She rushed to hug her tight. “Are you all right?”

The question was a mother’s reflex. Megan laughed, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Me? You’re the one who went swimming with gators.”

Neither of them mentioned the humans armed with guns—mundane danger compared to alligators.

“Is Mateo okay?” Lucy asked. The nurses wouldn’t tell her anything, FBI agent or not. And none of Mateo’s family were in the waiting room, which could be a good sign or a bad one.

“He’s fine. They said he was drugged with ketamine. He’s a bit dehydrated, they want to watch him overnight. The pastor’s really sick, but they said he’ll make it. And Chief Hayden is in surgery, something about a brain injury and swelling. I’m not sure about her.”

Lucy didn’t have much sympathy for the chief. She understood about putting your family first, but Hayden had also sworn to protect and serve innocents like Mateo.

“Gant told me what you did, deciding to trust him, sending him to help.”

Megan looked up, a guarded expression on her face. “I had to decide if he was one of the good guys or not—had to trust my gut since I didn’t have anything else to go on.” She blew her breath out, her shoulders sagging. “It was hard, Mom. Really, really hard. If I was wrong, he could have killed you.”

Could have killed Megan as well. Lucy squeezed her tighter. “You did good. I’m proud of you.”

They separated and Megan nodded to the plastic bag in Lucy’s hand. “Is my phone in there? Hope it’s okay because Dad said to call him.”

As Lucy fished in the bag for the phone, Megan pulled her down the hall. “Mateo and his family wan to see you, say thanks.”

Despite Lucy’s slow, stumbling gait—she was half tempted to borrow a cane from the ER—Megan practically danced beside her, obviously still high on adrenaline.

“You know,” Megan continued, “Officer Gant said they’d need a new police chief after all this. Said you’d be perfect for the job.”

Ahh… was this what had Megan so excited? “Would you want to move here, so far away from your friends?”

Megan considered it. “No. I mean, it’s nice here and all, but I’d be bored. And Chief Hayden seemed like she worked like all the time—I want you to spend more time with me and Dad, not less. Besides, if you were chief in a small town like this, all the kids would know it—it’d be worse then you sending me to a convent!”

Lucy stifled her chuckle. “Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

“Yeah, right. But seriously, Mom, I know you’re not happy with the way your job is now. You can’t let the FBI keep you behind a desk—it’s making you miserable.”

“You’d want to stay in Pittsburgh, right?” They pretty much had to with Nick’s job. “That’d be okay with you?”

“Sure. My friends are all there and my soccer team and I like my school. Wait. Did you find a job somewhere else? You didn’t turn it down just because of me?”

Oh, to be fourteen and have the world revolve around you. Lucy stopped and smiled at her daughter. She reached a hand to tame one of Megan’s wayward curls.

“I would have, if it came to that. Your and Dad’s happiness mean more to me than any job.” It hurt to say the words; Lucy had always believed her job was who she was, not just what she did. But she finally understood—Hayden was wrong. She’d thought it had to be either/or, family or protect and serve the community who trusted her with their lives.

There were other ways to serve. And she didn’t have to carry a badge to do it. But before she could devote herself to anyone else, she needed to take care of herself and her family.

“I have a few options. We’ll talk more when we get home,” she told Megan. “But you’re right. I’m miserable behind a desk. It’s time to leave the FBI and move on.”

Megan nodded with a wisdom greater than her years. “I think you’re doing the right thing. Remember what Grams always said, every new beginning is the start of a new adventure.”

They arrived at Mateo’s room. It was filled with the joyful noise of family. A nurse emerged, shaking her head at the crowd inside. “Go on in. What’s one more?”

As soon as they crossed into the room, both Megan and Lucy were immediately embraced, working their way through a sea of smiling faces until they reached Mateo’s bedside. His color was back to normal already, thanks to the IV in his arm, Lucy guessed.

“Lucy! Megan!” His grin was wide and Lucy wondered if he was still feeling the effects of the ketamine. “I’m so glad you’re here. My heroes.”

Megan laughed, grabbing onto his arm, blushing. “All in a day’s work for my mom.”

Pride burned through Lucy at Megan’s praise. It had been so very long since Megan had anything nice to say about Lucy or her job she’d almost forgotten how good it felt.

“They say I can go home tomorrow. Can I still give you surfing lessons? It’s the least I can do—and I promise, no more standing you up.”

They both looked at Lucy, waiting for her answer. As if there were any way she could say no. “Sure.”

Megan grabbed Lucy’s free arm. “Thanks, Mom!” Then she sobered. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” she asked Mateo. “We don’t have to surf. We can just walk on the beach and you can teach me more about the architecture and history.”

Lucy blinked. When had her daughter learned how to flirt so effortlessly?

“Do you remember anything?” she asked Mateo.

“No.” He frowned. “Just blood. All that blood. Where did it come from?”

“My guess is Pastor Fleming. Wouldn’t be hard for him or his wife to get a hold of some medical supplies,” she eyed Mateo’s IV tubing, “take a little every week or so, then when they’re ready, spray it around to fake their crime scene.”

Jorge winced while Mateo’s mother and aunt made small noises of dismay. Megan frowned at Lucy for ruining the moment—back to being the mom who couldn’t get anything right.