Stowaway (23 page)

She tightened the hood around her head and offered him reassurance. “I’m not going to follow them to the
Adrianna
, but I want to keep them in sight. Otherwise, we’re not much of a backup team, are we?”

She couldn’t see his features in the dim light, but she didn’t care if he disapproved. Short of physically restraining her, he didn’t have any option but to follow her lead. He fell into step beside her, and she lifted the binoculars back to her face. He did the same.

They slowed their steps as Nick and Brice neared the
Adrianna
. Keri had a good view of them as they split up and approached the boat from opposite sides. The next instant, they heard shouting and Gus dragged her behind his broad body. It took a minute to regain her footing and then an exchange of gunfire shattered the early morning stillness.

Gus shoved her into the hull of a nearby sailboat and shielded her with his body. When she’d righted herself again, all she could see was a lone man racing toward the parking lot. She raised her binoculars to her eyes and tried to focus on the moving target. A big black car appeared near her SUV, the man jumped in, and the car sped out of the lot, tires squealing.

In the next instant, Keri shoved her way past Gus and started running, covering the fifty or so yards in record time and flying straight into Nick’s arms.

“I’m fine,” he assured her as he wrapped her in a tight embrace and rocked her gently. Then the softness in his tone hardened with annoyance and he set her away from him. “Why the hell didn’t you stay on the boat like we agreed? Gus?” he glared at the other man.

“Don’t yell at Gus. I may be small but I’m way faster than most men. And I do have a mind of my own.”

Nick shook his head, and gave her his hard-ass detective stare. She stared right back with her most intimidating trauma nurse glare.

“What happened?” she finally asked, breaking the tense silence and shifting out of his arms.

“We flushed out a rat,” he said.

“Did you recognize him?”

“Yeah, he’s the other cop who saw Reggie McDowell commit murder. He has to be on the take. I need to tell Alexander, but I wish to hell I knew who’s paying him.”

“I might be able to help there,” she said, garnering the full attention of all three men. “I saw a logo on the door of the car.”

“I didn’t see anything but black,” said Brice. “Not even an interior light when the door opened.”

Gus shook his head.

“I had binoculars and there’s a small logo on the passenger door. It’s Cooper Caskets. I’ve seen the logo on their vans when they deliver caskets to the Moville mortuary in Thornsbury.”

“Damn,” Nick swore softly. He grabbed her again and hugged her tightly. “A casket company. That’s how they transported the stuff for so long without drawing attention.”

“That’s the connection,” they said in unison.

Chapter Fifteen

Across town, in a well-lit gated community, Harold Cooper made the final lap in his five-mile jog. Lungs and legs burning from exertion, he took a seat on the marble bench in his carefully manicured lawn. Inhaling deeply, he drew heavy, moisture-laden air into his body and exhaled toxins.

He hated jogging. Always had, but he applied willpower over excuses and weakness. He believed a man should stay fit and active. By jogging before the start of his business day, he could get his exercise, avoid other sweaty people and quickly shower off the disgusting body odor. Besides, he didn’t tolerate sun on his skin. He prided himself on being a white man and had no desire to change the color of his skin.

He exercised because a man needed strength and fortitude to deal with life’s stresses. His father had frequently told him a businessman had to deal with a lot of unpleasantness to be a success. Well, there was no doubting his success. Besides the multi-million-dollar home where he lived, he also owned hundreds of acres of prime Florida ranchland and one of the finest casket companies in the country.

A frown creased his brow as he thought of his father and all the changes he’d seen since his death. They’d shared so many traits and secrets. His father had introduced him into the society of White Supremists at an early age. They’d shared the passion and pride in their heritage.

In the family business, they’d had to allow for change. Society forced them to accept all religions and nationalities. More change came every year as more and more immigrants filtered into the country, changing the complexion of people at work, in their schools and even the churches.

It made him sick to his stomach. Mabel, his wife of thirty years, had understood the pressure of success. She’d commiserated with him when he had to smile and shake hands with people he despised. She’d kept him sane in an increasingly insane world.

He’d lost Mabel shortly after terrorists attacked the twin towers on 9-11. He held all Muslims responsible for the heart attack his wife suffered that same day. He knew she’d died because she didn’t want to live in a desegregated society any longer. The America they loved and life as they knew it had irrevocably changed that day.

Sometimes, he wished he’d gone with her. He’d grown tired of it all too. The only thing that had kept him alive was his plan to avenge her death. It had taken a lot of time, patience and money, but he’d know satisfaction soon. Someone had to pay for the loss of his wife and the purity of their existence.

As he started to rise from the bench, the cell phone in his pocket vibrated. The only person who had the number was Raymond McDowell. Harold refused to call him by the ridiculous nickname of Knifer. Mongrel would be a better description of the mixed-heritage thug. Just another of the disgusting people he had to deal with to obtain his goal.

“Cooper here,” he said into the phone.

“This is Knifer. We got a prob.”

Harold closed his eyes in exasperation. The man sounded like gangster, and he never called unless they had a problem. Too many lately.

“What this time?”

“Me and Detective Jenson just left the marina where that other cop was supposed to have fried. Didn’t happen.”

“What didn’t happen?”

“Lamanto didn’t burn to death. He jumped Jenson when we was there checkin’ out the boat we blowed up yesterday.”

Harold closed his eyes and sighed. It hurt his head just to listen to McDowell talk. Every report from the man gave him stress-induced indigestion.

“Lamanto saw Jenson?”

“Yeah. It was dark but we figure he still got a good enough look to ID him.”

After a brief hesitation, Harold said, “Then it’s time to cut all connections with the police department.” He hoped he didn’t have to spell out his instructions, especially over a cell phone.

“Jenson went into the convenience store for coffee. Want I should put him on the phone when he gets back?”

“No. I have nothing to say to the detective. He’s no longer of any importance to our mission. Just listen carefully and do exactly as I say.” Harold spoke slowly and concisely, so there’d be no confusion. “I want you to eliminate Jenson permanently and make sure his body is never found.”

A pulse throbbed in his temper, the beginning of a headache as he waited for McDowell’s response. He wished them both dead, but he still needed a driver stupid enough to haul volatile explosives over rough country roads.

McDowell’s voice went low, his words no-doubt mumbled through a mouthful of smokeless tobacco. “That’s an expensive order, ya know.”

“I know the price, and you know I’m good for it. Once it’s done, your payment will be waiting in cash.”

“We could sure use the extra dough. Reggie’s got legal bills.”

Harold locked his jaw. He couldn’t begin to describe his frustration at Reggie McDowell’s arrest for murder. The older brother’s stupidity at such a delicate stage in his plans had enraged him. He’d thought Reggie the dependable one, but he refrained from commenting.

After a short pause, Raymond asked, “Killin’ a cop will cost ya extra.”

“You didn’t kill the other one.”

Harold assumed the next long pause was due to the fact that Raymond couldn’t think very fast.

“I reckon you’re right, but we did blow up his boat. Here comes Jenson now. You’ll leave the payment at the usual drop spot? It’ll be there when I get back from the mission?”

“Yes. I expected you to be on your way to Tennessee by now.”

“I was all set to leave when Jenson called this morning. He wanted me to take him past the marina in case somebody recognized his car.”

“So you drove my van to the marina?” Harold felt the blood pounding in his ears.

McDowell was slow to answer. “It was pitch-dark out there. I reckon it don’t matter now anyways. I’ll do Jenson and make sure the body don’t get found, then I’ll get the van out of town, pronto.”

“When you dispose of the body, dispose of the phone too. Don’t just toss it in the trash somewhere. Make sure it’s totally destroyed. This will be our final communication. You need to get to Thornsbury today, get the van loaded and get your final orders from my partners there.”

“Sure thing. It’s been a pleasure takin’ your money,” he said with a chuckle.

Harold didn’t see the humor. He snapped the phone shut, hoping he never had to speak to the mongrel again.

The gunshots at the marina had brought people running from every direction, so Gus hustled Keri back to the yacht. She didn’t argue, not wanting to be recognized or questioned, but she waited impatiently for the excitement to settle.

The sun had risen high over the water by the time Nick and Brice rejoined them. Brice jumped aboard and went straight to the driver’s seat. Nick cast off the ropes and hopped on to the boat as the engines flared to life.

“Nick! What the hell?” she asked, trying to maintain her balance as they pulled from the dock. “Why are we leaving now and where are we going?”

“Back to the island,” he said, gathering the mooring ropes and securing them in the bottom of the boat.

“I need to call my dad.”

“We need to regroup before we make any calls.”

“Regroup how?” she demanded.

He took hold of her arm and guided her to the bench. She sat beside him but didn’t stop questioning him.

“What else did you find out? Did you call your lieutenant?”

“I talked to the night watchman. He said he noticed you and me leaving in the early hours yesterday. Then he saw a man return to the boat. He was about my height and size so he thought I’d taken a date home and returned. He heard the explosion a short time later.”

Keri wondered if the watchman saw a lot of women coming and going from Nick’s boat, but she put the question on the back burner while she bombarded him with others.

“And you recognized the cop who shot at you? He’s the dirty cop in your department? With your height and build? Did you get a new phone to call your boss?”

“Yes to all that. I called Alexander and told him about Jenson. I doubt he’ll show his face at the precinct. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t end up in the bottom of the bay. He sold his soul to the devil, and then screwed up, so his life isn’t worth shit.”

“If something happens to him, you’ll be the only witness against the McDowell guy?”

“Yeah.”

“So you’re planning to stay at the villa for a while?”

Nick went quiet and a weird shiver ran down Keri’s spine. “You’re not planning to stay hidden, are you?” she asked, suspicion coloring her tone. “What exactly is the new plan?”

“Alexander is getting in touch with McDowell’s lawyer. Now that we know Cooper is involved, we’re betting he’s the money man as well as the mastermind. The lieutenant said he owns several big farms, so it wouldn’t be hard for him to stockpile extra fertilizer like they use for bombs. McDowell is probably responsible for buying the illegal firearms.”

“Has he confessed to any of it?”

“Not yet, but McDowell doesn’t have the finances or the smarts for a big operation. We’re hoping he’ll give up more details to save his own ass.”

“And what then?”

“Then we shut down the whole damned operation.”

“Including the militia camp in Thornsbury?”

“Sure, if we get proof of the connection.”

“And your Lieutenant Alexander will be coordinating this with my dad’s department?”

Nick just returned her steady gaze without responding. She narrowed her eyes and her tone got grim. “You have no intention of coordinating with Dad, do you?”

His frustrated sigh annoyed her as much as his next words. “I’m sorry, Keri, but we’re not sure he can be trusted.”

“I
know
he can be trusted.”

“Think about it from my viewpoint, sweetheart. That compound is on Merritt land. Your family either has to be involved or turning a blind eye. Either way we risk the whole operation if we include them in our plans.”

She let his words sink in a moment, trying to be impartial, but she knew her dad and brother too well to accept his reasoning.

“Believe what you want, but I want Brice to turn this boat around and take me back to the marina. And I want my car keys. Now.”

Nick returned her unflinching stare with one of his own. “It’s not gonna happen, babe.”

A host of emotions hit Keri—hurt and betrayal, but mostly pure, unadulterated anger.

“So you’re kidnapping me, which is a federal offense, I remind you. Now who’s operating outside the law? You plan to keep me imprisoned at the villa while you and your team attack my family and home. All in the name of justice? Because you’re not sure the Merritts are trustworthy?”

“Forget the kidnapping crap,” he said, standing to put distance between them. Then he turned back to her. “You came with us willingly and nobody in their right mind would consider spending time at the villa an imprisonment.”

“I’m in my right mind,” she challenged, tone and body stiff with tension. “I just don’t believe the results are more important than the method.”

Nick ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Be reasonable, sweetheart. You’re not trained in law enforcement. We can’t take you with us and we can’t let you go home. You won’t have to stay at the villa long. Just trust me on this.”

Keri waited several heartbeats before responding. “Trust is a two-way street.”