Wood's Wall (17 page)

“This is not yours to decide. I will call your patron. He will tell you what to do,” Ibrahim snapped. 

“Don’t you worry,
terrorista
, I will recover the material. What I do with it after is another matter.” He turned away from Ibrahim and went to Mac. A felt bag appeared from his pocket. Gold shined in the light as he pulled something out. “Maybe we need to talk about this as well.” He held the gold sea serpent in front of Mac’s face.

“That is of no interest to me. If you are not willing to do what is necessary to find the material, I will do it myself.” Ibrahim said.

Without warning, Cesar grabbed the Arab’s head and slammed him down against his knee. Ibrahim fell to the floor, unconscious.

“Now, tell me about this.” 

“What’s there to tell? I bought it.”

“You could not buy this. It is a Mayan artifact. They’re not available anywhere but the black market, and I do not see you paying black market prices.” He turned to the man with the apron, nodding at him to take over the interrogation. “
Mi amigo
, he is yours. I want answers.”

***

Jules pulled back into Mac’s driveway and watched as the first body was loaded into the coroner’s van. Murder was rare here, and three in the last two days was not good for business. Although most crimes were committed by people passing through — crimes she couldn’t really control — it was still a matter of pride that Marathon was a safe place. She got out of the car and entered the house, carefully lifting the crime scene tape as she walked in. Temporary lights lit the space, numbered markers littered the floor. She smiled at Heather and walked around back. It wasn’t her place to interfere with the crime scene work. She would wait for them to finish, review the evidence, and go find the killer. She’d put a BOLO alert out for Mac, now that the bodies had been identified as women. Her instincts told her that he was not capable of this, but he was missing all the same. She had a feeling he was out trying to fix this himself. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

 She sat at the back table and checked her phone, already knowing that she needed to call Jeff and break the news to him. Not able to put it off anymore, she selected the second 813 area code number from her call log and hit
dial
.

He answered, sounding anxious. “Yes?”

“Jeff, Sheriff Whitman here. You ok?”

“Yeah, just nervous. That guy hasn’t called yet. I’m getting scared.”

“Where are you? We need to talk.”

“Why, what’s happened?”

“It can wait. Tell me where you are.”

“At the hospital.”

***

He was sitting erect in his chair, alone in the fourth floor lobby. She went up to the window that looked into the hospital room and stared at Trufante, still unconscious with what she took for a smile on his face. She’d wipe that off as soon as he came to. The asshole should have come to her immediately, rather than waiting. He might have saved some lives if he had. Shaking her head, she went to Jeff and placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry, Jeff, there’s no easy way to do this. We found your wife’s body an hour ago.”

He stared into space, shocked. Then he exploded with rage. “How could you let that happen? I thought you were on top of this!”

“I’m truly sorry, but it looks like she was killed before we got involved. Probably the night you went to Tampa. There’s another body with her — a woman. I know this is hard, but I need you to identify them.”

She waited patiently while he got over the initial response and composed himself. 

“I need some time alone. Just write down where I need to go. I’ll be there.”

“It’s no problem to take you.” She couldn’t remand him, but didn’t want to let him out of her sight.

He was silent for a long minute. “No, I’ve had enough police for the day. I’ll take a cab. Just want to be alone for a few minutes.”

“Ok, but we need you for this.”

“Right.”

***

Jeff waited until the elevator doors closed behind her. Then he pulled out his phone and dialed. 

“Pete here. What’s up?”

“The bastard killed them. The drug guy.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“The guy that came to the house the other night. Killed Dan on the spot. Told me I had twenty-four hours to get some cash, and took the women. Then he killed them…”

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. Where are you?”

“Hospital. It’s a long story.”

“Meet me outside. I’ll be there in five. I think we’d better talk.”

28

Mel tentatively pulled up to the dock. Crime tape circled around the house and there were several people visible inside the rollup door. She thought about turning around and getting out of there after seeing the house converted to a crime scene. In the end, her sense of duty got the best of her. She tied the bow off and jumped onto the dock, then approached the first deputy she saw. 

“Who’s in charge here?” she asked.

“And you are?” He looked her up and down, and she realized that she hadn’t seen herself in a mirror in a day. Grease, dirt, and sweat covered her skin and she probably had tear marks down her face. 

“Melanie Woodson. I’m staying here.” She had just started to feel comfortable here and now crime scene tape denied access to the house. 

“I’m the lead officer here. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I haven’t been here in a couple of days. Is Mac alright? Is he here?” 

“He’s missing. So, you are telling me you know nothing about this?”

“No, I got drunk the other night and we got in a fight.” She abbreviated the truth.

“When was that?”

“Six or so, the night before last.”

“And you just took off?”

Not wanting to be caught in an outright lie, she dodged the question. “What’s going on here? I need to charge my phone. Can I get my charger, at least?”

“As long as it’s upstairs. Everything down here is a crime scene.”

She headed up the outside stairs. “I’ll need a statement.” he called after her, staring up at her from the bottom step.

“No problem, just give me a few minutes.” She entered the sliding glass door leading to the bedroom, thankful the crime scene had not extended here. She sat on the edge of the bed, head in hands. The grime and grit were like sandpaper, her hair oily. 

The dirt swirled down the drain, as she wished the past few days would disappear with it. She stood under the stream of hot water from the shower deep in thought. Where was Mac? Jules was a childhood friend and she trusted her. Maybe the best thing was to find her and lay out everything that had happened. Her brain went into lawyer mode, trying to decide if Mac had done anything illegal, or just been an idiot. She smiled, remembering her dad’s line - “
rule #1 -
boys are idiots
.” The worst she could think of was obstructing justice. She was confident Jules would drop whatever charges might be pending in exchange for any information she had. Galvanized by her decision, she turned the water to cold. The hot water had been lulling her to sleep. 

She stepped out of the shower and had just changed when she heard a knock on the door.

“Mel? You in there?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right out.”

Mel left the room and met Jules in the hall. She moved forward and hugged her old friend. “Mel, you know what happened here?” There was a built-in level of intimacy between the two women, who had a long history together, growing up here.

“I hate to admit it, but I was drunk that night. I passed out, and the next thing I know Mac had us on the boat. I’m really sorry.”

“No worries, girl. Where is he?”

“Wish I knew. We got in a fight. I just got back from dad’s place.” She paused. “Listen, Mac told me some stuff. I know he could be in some trouble here - not for what’s downstairs. Maybe withholding information or something. I’ll tell you what little I know if you promise not to charge him.

“Mac Travis, withholding information - like that’s a new one. Sure, if that’s all it is go ahead. But, if he’s involved any other way I’m going to have to go after him.” Jules said.

Mel relayed the conversation she’d had with Mac, trying to remember everything she could. “That’s it. We went out to dad’s yesterday and got in a fight. That’s the last I saw him.”

“Your dad. I haven’t seen you since then. Really sorry about him. You know how much I liked him.”

“Thanks. Anything else I can do for you? I’ve got a pile of messages, and I want to find Mac.”

“No, you know the old line though: Don’t leave town.”

They hugged again as Jules left, leaving Mel alone with her phone.

When she dialed, Mac’s number went straight to voicemail. She was getting worried. She went to the front window and saw his truck parked out front. More anxious now, she followed Jules down the stairs. “His truck and boat are both here, cell phone’s going to voicemail. I’m worried something’s happened to him.”

“I put out a BOLO on him when we saw what happened here. Nothing yet.” Jules said.

“I’m really worried. Whatever you find out, please let me know.” She glanced around, jaw dropping, as she saw the scene for the first time. The crime scene seemed more vivid with the police tape, lights and numbered signs. “Please, find him.”

A woman, bent over examining something, called Jules over. “There’s something here that I couldn’t place. There’s blood here,” she said, shining her light down and tracing a path from the front door to the office. “Look at the direction of the spots. Someone came
in
bleeding.”

Mel and Jules stood side by side following the light. “Maybe Trufante.” Jules said.

“That’s what I was thinking. So, we have the blood trail, but look.” She shined her light on what looked like mud, and looked up again. “I couldn’t figure it out, but the smell got me.” She bent down and scratched at the stain, picking up a piece and rubbing it back and forth between her latex-clad fingers. “It’s fresh, too, look at the oil. It’s chum. Don’t know what it has to do with this, but I’d be looking for a bait grinder. Maybe Monster — they’re the biggest bait outfit here.”

29

Jeff stood on the sidewalk in front of the hospital, his face tired and drawn. He didn’t know what to think or how he should be reacting, but he felt angry. 

Pete pulled up and stopped. Jeff got in but did not acknowledge him. 

“Hey bud, you all right?” Pete asked.

“You son of a bitch!” Jeff screamed. “My wife is gone because of you. Some great idea - get a Mexican drug dealer involved. Dammit.” He moved towards Pete.

Pete shrunk back, “I know how you’re feeling, but this isn’t my fault. Dan was the one who insisted on keeping the stuff. You were right along with him. I wanted to dump it.”

“Whatever.” He slammed the dashboard with his fists. “I’m so freakin’ mad. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but I want revenge. How do we find this son of a bitch?”

“Key West. I followed him. I know where he lives, but there’s something else.”

“What’s that?” Jeff asked.

“There was a package inside the bundle that was different.”

Jeff stared off into space. “So?”

“The guy, he took one package and met this Middle Eastern-looking guy in a park. He handed him the package and took off. I didn’t know what else to do so I followed that guy, too.”

“This has nothing to do with me. I just want the Mexican.”

“Maybe we should just tell the authorities what I saw and get out of here before something bad happens.”

“Like something worse is going to happen. My wife’s dead. How do you think that feels.” He slammed the dashboard again. “You want to walk away from this with nothing to show for it? I don’t. Screw the authorities. Even if they catch the guy, he’ll probably walk.”

“You’re in some kind of shock. Think about it. We don’t have the skill set to go after these guys. We don’t even have a gun.” Pete was scared by his friend’s anger.