Fatal Decree (40 page)

As November slipped into history, the key settled back into its languid rhythms. I was unsettled, spending too much time at Tiny’s and the other bars on the island. Logan was back on Longboat and spent a lot of time with me, leaving Marie to fend for herself as he made sure I wasn’t drinking more than was good for me.

Jeff Worthington was released from the Hillsborough County jail on a five-hundred-dollar bond the day after his arrest. Without either the murder weapon or the testimony of Perez, the prosecutors could not prove that he’d been involved in any of the murders. He could only be charged with the unauthorized practice of law, a misdemeanor.

Worthington did not show up for his first court appearance a week after his release, and the bond was forfeited. Nobody had heard from him since. He was gone, and the state would not spend any money looking for a man charged only with a misdemeanor.

Jock made a quick appearance during the first week of December, stayed three days, and went back to the wars. On his first day, he sat me down in my living room and said, “What’s going on, podna? Where’s J.D.?”

I told him about her leaving, about the decisions she was trying to make. I didn’t tell him about the letter. And I didn’t tell him she had written that she loved me. I knew I was acting a bit like a lovesick high school kid and I was afraid if I gave any of it away to Jock or Logan, they’d think I’d slipped a gear.

“Are you in touch with her?” asked Jock.

“No. She asked me to stay clear.”

“I’d like her to know that Mariah Fuentes is no longer a threat.”

I was surprised. “Somebody found her?”

“I did.”

“Where?”

“She was in Mexico, living with one of the jefes of a drug cartel.”

“What happened?”

“She and I had a conversation,” Jock said.

“And?”

“She was the one who sent the Guatemalan gangbangers after you and J.D. She said it was to teach Mr. Worthington a lesson. He wasn’t moving fast enough for her. She thought if she had the gangbangers kill you, Worthington would get the message and take J.D. out. She figured that J.D. would be well guarded after the other attempts on her life and that you’d be an easy target and a grand object lesson for Worthington. One that would let him know that she had other assets and a long reach. Your death was supposed to convince Worthington that he had to move quickly on J.D. Mariah was crazy and none of what she did was the least bit rational.”

“Was?”

“She died,” Jock said simply.

I wasn’t going to ask how. “Did you ever figure out who was paying Gene Alexander for the information he was peddling?”

“Yes. They died, too.”

“You?”

“No. Dave sent some of our other guys after them. I got a chance to talk to Mariah, but that was my only involvement.”

“So, you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Matt. Dave has me doing some analyst work, shuffling paper. I think he’s afraid I’m not yet ready to go back to the field.”

“What do you think?”

“I think Dave’s right. Maybe it’s time for me to give it up.”

“Retire?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I could be a beach bum just yet. I may see if Dave will let me continue with the paperwork. Stay out of the field.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You’re getting a little long in the tooth to be a field agent.”

Jock was quiet for a beat. Then he smiled. “Screw you, podna.”

“With Mariah out of the picture,” I said, “I guess Worthington is the only one left. I wonder if he has the balls to take another swing at J.D.”

“He won’t,” said Jock.

“Why do you say that?”

“The day I left here, I went to Tampa and took care of him.”

“Took care of him?” I asked.

“Yes. Dave told me on the phone that he was being released that evening. I met him when he came out of the jail.”

“And what do you mean, you took care of him?”

“He won’t ever bother J.D. again. Or anyone else. Ever.”

I let it go then.

The Christmas season in Florida is a bit strange, a paradox of traditions bred in the cold north juxtaposed against the reality of life in the sun. The temperature hovered in the high sixties and low seventies. People were on the beaches working on their tans, and congratulating themselves for being wealthy enough to spend their winter in the sunshine. The condos and homes along Gulf of Mexico Drive were displays of tasteful Christmas lighting, créches and foam reindeer and Santas, their sleighs resting on green grass spread beneath palm trees. The air-conditioned bars were full of people drinking hot toddies or whatever it was they drank in the cold nights of the season back where they came from. A shopping mall on the mainland had fake snow as part of a display so that the kids could play in it and pretend they were at the North Pole.

I loved it. The air itself carried a hint of joie de vivre. Happiness permeated our lives and filtered down even to me, pushing away the dark mood I’d been in since J.D. left. I hadn’t heard from her, and I assumed that I probably wouldn’t. Her deadline, New Year’s Eve, was a week away, and I’d been half expecting to hear from Bill Lester that he’d received her letter of resignation in the mail.

It was Christmas Eve and Logan had been busy planning his annual Christmas dinner. He invited all the singles and those couples who had no family to his home for a noontime feast, all sumptuously catered by a Sarasota restaurant.

Susie Vaught had decided to keep Tiny’s open that evening until the usual closing time, which was whenever everybody finally went home. She and her husband, Captain Dave, would be at Logan’s for dinner the next day.

It was nearing eight in the evening, and I was about to leave the house and join Logan and Marie and some other friends at Tiny’s. My doorbell rang, probably a neighbor wanting a ride, too lazy or too tipsy to walk the four blocks to the little bar. Just part of island living, I thought as I went to the door.

The most beautiful woman I’d ever seen was standing on my stoop. Her dark hair fell to her shoulders, framing the lovely face that graced my dreams. Her lips parted in a smile so big and dazzling that I stepped back. Her emerald eyes danced with mischievous glee at the surprise she saw on my face. “Hello, Matt,” J.D. said. “Remember me?”

I was dumbstruck. I didn’t know how to respond, so I stood there like some schoolboy, mute with surprise. Finally, I found my voice. “You do look a little familiar,” I said, “but I can’t quite place you. Do come in.”

She came through the door, and I closed it. I stood there, facing her, not sure what to do. She opened her arms, and I stepped into them and held her, drinking in her scent, my nose buried in her hair. “God, I’ve missed you,” I said.

She pushed me back a little, put her hands on my cheeks, and pulled my face down to hers. Her lips brushed mine, and she pulled back again, looking at me as if trying to memorize my face. She closed her eyes and put her lips to mine, not moving, just touching for a long moment, and then she opened her lips and I felt her tongue against mine.

I drew back and looked at her, absorbing her smile, her eyes, the look of sweet contentment that had settled on her face, and I knew that my dreams of her were finally becoming reality.

She disengaged herself, patted me on the chest, and said, “Let’s talk.”

“We can talk in bed,” I offered.

“Matt, I love you and I love this island and I want to live here forever and I want to tell you about the past six weeks. I want to tell you about how I came to understand Jock and appreciate what he does, and how much I missed you, and—”

I put my finger against her lips, hushing her, stopping the torrent of words “You’ve already said everything I need to know.”

“But there’s a lot I want to tell you.”

“I love you, J.D.,” I said. “We can make a life together. Here on the
key. That’s all I need to know for now. We’ve got the rest of our lives to talk.”

She kissed me again, her hand at the back of my head, her other arm encircling me, pulling me close. The kiss was deeper this time, more passionate, and as it lingered, as we stood there in my living room welded together, I knew that my life was about to change, profoundly, irrevocably, and forever. And that made me a very happy man.