Pine island coast florid.., p.65
Pine Island Coast Florida Box Set, page 65
part #1 of Pine Island Coast Florida Series
They were only halfway back to the marina. She was going to have to do this on her own. Taking a deep breath, she navigated the colors of the water, trying to stay in the darkest areas. Suddenly, the water moved to a deeper brown, and Ellie throttled back. Her stomach and shoulders tightened as she felt the running gear snag on the bottom before coming clear again. “Come on,” she muttered, and turned the wheel, quickly moving into a darker area of water. Her head jerked forward as they hit bottom again, harder this time, shining the propellers. Ellie turned briefly and saw a cloud of silt stirring up behind the transom. Her heart was racing and her knuckles white as they gripped the wheel.
She could see the marina clearly now, and she kept her speed. They snagged the bottom again, but Ellie kept going, the boat now vibrating like it had a bad tire, droning like a tired animal. She grit her teeth. Ellie had grown up here, spent the first twenty years of her life on these waters, and yet she had never witnessed anything like this in person. It was like someone had yanked the plug out of the bathtub. “Come on,” she muttered again.
The channel coming into the marina was deeper; Major had dredged it a couple years ago, and when Ellie turned her attention to the dock she again saw something she had never seen before. The remaining fishing boats were hanging suspended above the water by their mooring lines, like spiders in their webs. To her relief, the boat surged forward as it entered the deeper waters of the channel. She turned and yelled for Tyler. He staggered out of the cabin still looking weak, but better than he had earlier. “Drop the fenders,” she called. “Tie off at starboard!” Then remembering that Tyler knew nothing of boats, she said, “Over here. Right side!”
He gave her a weak nod and started flipping fenders over the side. They might help against the pilings, but the dock was now five feet higher than it usually was. She idled in, and Tyler scrambled to the bow and pressed his hands into a piling to keep the boat from hitting it. Ellie cut the engines, left the helm, and went to the port side. She grabbed a mooring line and reached up and tied it around a cleat. She repeated it at the next piling, pulling the line tight, and wrapping it some more. Soon the boat was as secure as it was going to get, given the circumstances. If Josephine was going to make landfall anywhere near the island, the Bertram wouldn’t make it, no matter how well they tied it off. Someone might find it a week from now next to that old fishing boat on Mondongo Rocks, or stuffed into the fringes of a barrier island or, worse, a backyard in Fort Myers. Tyler brought Dawson out of the cabin and laid him gently on the deck while Ellie clambered up to the dock. He uncuffed a still-chuckling Eli Oswald and told him to “get up there with Ellie.” A minute later the four of them were on the dock: one passed out, two of them bloody, all of them soaking wet.
Tyler hooked his arms under Dawson’s armpits and, after cuffing Oswald again, made him hold Dawson’s feet. As they passed The Salty Mangrove, the side door leading into the covered patio swung open. Major stepped out and nearly ran straight into Oswald.
Ellie stopped, a puzzled look on her face. “Major? What are you doing here?”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Major looked curiously at the motley crew before him. He blinked, and without taking his eyes off Oswald said, “I had forgotten to empty the vault under the bar.” He looked at Ellie. “What’s going on here?”
“We found Ronnie’s friend, Dawson,” she said, and then nodded toward Oswald. “And this is the guy who was looking for Ronnie.”
The rain had started up again. Major opened the screen door and motioned for them to step inside the covered porch. He had the clear plastic weather flaps lowered so that, at least for now, the inside was dry. They all went in.
Major surveyed the odd looking man in handcuffs standing beside Ellie. “That’s Ronnie’s friend? The guy who sent those fingers to Jean?”
“Yes, it’s him.”
“Well, well, now,” Oswald said, “I suppose my reputation doth precede me.” He looked around the space. “Hey now, good sir, any chance for a local celebrity to gain a glass of water? I’m buyin’.”
Major ignored him. “How did you find him?”
“Long story, I can fill you in later. I’ve got to get Dawson to a hospital.”
“She kidnapped me, that’s what,” Oswald protested.
Major surveyed Dawson and shook his head. “The hospitals have evacuated, but their emergency rooms should still be operational.”
He eyed Oswald. “Why don’t you let me take this guy while you get Ronnie’s friend here to the doctor?”
Ellie hesitated. Having Oswald would continue to complicate things. Ellie wasn’t exactly in a position to just drop him off at the local precinct. If she locked him back in the bed of her truck, there was no guarantee he wouldn't start making noise or scream for help when they pulled up to the ER. She had kidnapped a fugitive wanted by the FBI, DEA, and ATF, tortured him in secret, and then forced him to come with her across hurricane infested waters to find one of his kidnap victims.
“He’s a wanted man,” she explained. “And to be honest, I’m going to get in some trouble for having him. I don’t want to implicate you.”
“You went off the reservation and got him on your own.”
She just stared back at him.
“You know what?” Major said, “I think we can figure something out. You found Ronnie’s friend here after all. But right now you need to get this man some help. ”
She thought about it, unsettled by both options. Finally, “Okay. But please, be careful. He’s dangerous. You sure you’re good with him?”
“Go on. We’ll be fine. We’ll go somewhere safe and away from prying eyes. If you still have service, call me when you’re done at the hospital and we’ll figure out a plan. Tyler, you take care of her, son.”
“Of course.”
Turning to Tyler she said, “I need two minutes to run by my place and get Citrus.” There were a few other items as well. Specifically, the copper samovar Vida Murad had given her, the straw doll that little Khalida had made, and a couple items her father had left behind.
“Sure thing. Let’s go.”
Ellie took Dawson’s ankles, and as Tyler walked backwards he bumped the screen door open with his backside. Ellie paused. “Major. Are you sure? Like I said, I’m not supposed to hav—”
“Go,” he said. “I’m on your team, kiddo.”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “Okay.”
“Go on now. Get that poor man some medical help.”
The wind was picking up again and sent the window flaps jouncing. Major watched the party of three make their way down the ramp to Ellie’s truck. He waited, and when he saw their taillights fade up the road, he crossed his arms, lifted his chin, and gave Eli Oswald a predatory grin.
Oswald chuckled nervously. “Why you lookin’ at me like that?”
“So...you’re the one who stole some of my cocaine and swapped it for guns?”
Chapter Fifty
Ellie slowed her speed as she approached the Matlacha Pass Bridge. The rain and wind were coming down in hard, stinging sheets again. When she got to the other side, a police officer dressed in a neon yellow rain slicker waved her down with an orange signal light. Tyler was sitting behind her with Dawson propped next to him. “Can you reposition him so the officer can’t see him? The last thing I need right now is to get a bunch of questions.”
“Yeah. One sec.” Ellie saw Dawson disappear from the rearview mirror. She heard a thunk and then a shuffling. “Okay. We’re good back here.”
Ellie rolled down her window. The officer yelled to keep his voice above the wind as he spoke. “Where are you headed?”
Citrus bounded into Ellie’s lap and yapped at the officer, thrilled that someone else was willing to have a discussion with him. Ellie laid a hand on his back. “Shhh, boy.” Citrus darted onto the passenger seat and set his two front paws on the dash. He looked out the window and barked at the rain.
Ellie had half expected the officer to say something about evading him when she snuck back onto the island earlier, but he said nothing. Maybe it was a new shift. “To a relative’s house further inland,” Ellie said. She wasn’t going to tell him that she needed to take someone to the hospital. Naturally, as a public servant, he would want to get eyes on him and see how bad off he was, possibly call in an escort to help her get there safely. Dawson’s face looked like ground meat, and one look at him would only prompt a series of sober questions from the officer.
“All right,” he yelled. “But you’d better hurry up and get there. The bridge is closed to all incoming and won’t open until after the storm passes. You should have left hours ago.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Be safe now!” He stepped back and waved her on.
“Captain Obvious, there,” Tyler mumbled. Citrus barked, agreeing with him.
Ellie rolled up her window and slowly advanced. “How’s he doing?”
“His breathing is more shallow since we got him in here.”
Ellie scanned both sides of the road for any pedestrians crazy enough to be out in this weather. Seeing none, she punched the accelerator.
Chapter Fifty-One
Oswald eyed the man standing before him. He had grown weary of being carted around all day. In the last few hours he had been taken to that cabin, hurt real bad, forced to ride out to Sanibel, and now, this. When that Ellie lady handed him off to this guy, Eli Oswald had had enough. He was going to get rid of these people, find a way off this island before the storm came, and get out of the state—for good. That’s what he had been thinking while he stared at the bar owner in front of him. But all that had changed with the man’s last words.
“What’re you talking about?” Oswald said, scowling.
Another smile broke across the man’s face. A smile that sent a chill down Oswald's spine and into his thighs. “You can...call me Ringo.”
Oswald grinned suspiciously. “You? You’re Ringo?” He laughed to himself. “I don’t think so, Jimmy Jan—”
“I’ve been intending to make your acquaintance, but I must say that I was a bit disappointed to hear that you escaped the raid on your compound as well as the little present that Aldrich left you.”
Oswald stopped smiling.
“And now look at this. Fate has dropped you right in my lap. I think we have some talking to do, you and I.” He looked down and noticed the wet bandage on Oswald’s hand. “What happened there?”
“That Ellie girl. She cut off my thumb, man.”
Ringo laughed. “You’re joking. My, my. She’s the brightest beam of sunshine in my life, but she’ll burn the wrong person to toast if they aren’t wearing sunscreen.”
Oswald was beginning to feel a bit nervous. “She know about you? She a part of your little enterprise too? I thought she was with the good guys.”
“She does not know about me, Eli Oswald, and I’ve been very careful to keep it that way.” He placed a heavy hand on Oswald's shoulder. “Do you see the dilemma that puts me in with you? It puts me in a position where I have to trust you, Oswald. Do you think I’m prepared to trust you with something like that?”
Oswald swallowed nervously. “Oh, come on, man. I wouldn’t say anything. You and me, we got common interests. We can help each other. You know what I'm sayin’?”
“Yes. I do think we can help each other,” Ringo said, now rubbing his chin. “How about you and I go someplace we can chat?”
“Boy...now you’re talkin’.”
Ringo opened the door and led Oswald back out into the elements. A heavy gust of wind cut across the boardwalk like a bulldozer. The two men crouched down and steadied themselves against the onslaught. Ringo grabbed Oswald and pushed him toward the ramp that led to his Jeep.
_______________
When they drew near to the hospital, Ellie followed the signs to the emergency room entrance. She pulled the Silverado underneath the carport, and she and Tyler jumped out. With speed and care, they drew Dawson out of the cab and entered through the sliding glass doors. Before they were halfway to the front desk, they caught the attention of a nurse who raced over. She called for a gurney, and Ellie quickly updated the nurse on his situation; what had been done to him, estimating for how long, and under what circumstance they had found him.
The nurse called for her team to assemble faster.
_______________
Warren Hall’s house was a modest two story a couple miles north of The Salty Mangrove and sat close to Dobbs Preserve. Butting up against the east side of the island his was the last house on Sunburst Drive. He brought his Jeep Wrangler into the driveway and, after opening the passenger door, said, “Let’s go.”
Oswald complied. He stepped out into the gusting wind, ducking down to keep his footing, and followed Ringo through the side door of the home. They entered the kitchen, and Ringo pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. “Have a seat.”
“Say, I am most thirsty. Can I get something to drink?”
“Like you gave that young man I just saw? Like you gave him something to drink?”
“Oh, come on, man. That was just business. We didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”
Ringo leaned against the gray granite that formed the top of his kitchen island. He folded his arms and looked Eli square in the eye. He had already decided how to handle this. He had known right after Ellie had handed him off, before she and Tyler and Dawson were even halfway to her truck. Sometimes life gave you lemons. This particular lemon happened to be sweet, and today Ringo would be making lemonade. He wouldn’t even need to add sugar.
“Eli, you broke one of my rules. You were to receive my product and move it. It’s been, what, less than two months since I decided to start working with you?
“Are you gonna get me something to drink?”
Ringo ignored him. “But—forgive me if I’m assuming—you got greedy and so thought that I wouldn’t mind if you packaged my product with your guns.”
“I’m just out to make a buck. Same as anyone else.”
“You know, Ronnie Oglesby has been staying here for the last couple weeks. Right here, in this house. He left yesterday with his mother and got off the island.”
Oswald’s expression changed from smug to disbelief.
Ringo nodded toward the fireplace. “That painting hanging over the mantel—the one of the shrimp trawler—was done by Ronnie’s mother. She happens to be one of my favorite artists. Jean is a good friend of mine and keeping Ronnie here safely away from you was the least I could do.” He stepped over to the refrigerator, reached in, and grabbed a can of Pepsi. He shut the door, and the aluminum top clicked as he popped the tab.
“Thank you,” Oswald said sarcastically.
Ringo took a sip and set it on the counter. “When I decided to let you distribute my goods, I did so full well knowing that you are a radical and espouse certain philosophies that I view as crude and elementary. You’re not half the man that Harlan Tucker was—and I didn’t agree with his view on life either. But I decided to take a chance with you, Eli. To test you out and see how the first few runs went. Did I not make it clear before we even started working together that when you moved my product you were to move it and it only? Did I not make it clear that I did not want multiple government agencies looking for me?”
Oswald shrugged defeatedly.
“You start dealing illegal or unregistered arms then you get the ATF on your case. When you kidnap people of even minimal social worth, and do it sloppily, do it in a way that can easily be traced back to you, then you get the local police and the FBI involved. Those are agencies I want to stay off my trail, not be hot on it. I’m not worried about the DEA. Them I can handle. But once you got all these spotlights to shine right on you, you opened up a little portal for them to start snooping around and find a road to me. That’s not difficult to understand, is it?”
“Suppose not.”
“I’ve been doing this for a very long time, Eli. I am very good at what I do. I’m very good at it because I am smart. I’m smart and I am not greedy. Greedy people get caught every time because they make foolish decisions and stop doing the thinking that kept them safe in the first place.”
“That Ellie girl really don’t know that you’re the guy she’s after?”
Ringo took another sip of his Pepsi and smiled. He looked at Oswald’s hand. “She really cut your thumb off?” It was more a statement than a question.
“Yeah. That little whore.”
The word was hardly out of his mouth before Ringo’s heavy fist connected to his jaw. His head snapped to the right and, with the displacement of his weight, his chair tumbled outward, and he crashed into the wall and onto the floor. His wounded hand slammed into the tile, and he howled as the pain radiated through his arm all over again. He lay there, dazed from the furious punch, trying to wish the fire in his hand away along with the throbbing in a broken nose that had been hit three times in as many hours.
“Get up,” he heard over his shoulder. “Get. Up.”
Oswald groaned and, slowly pushing off the kitchen floor with his good hand, stood up. He grabbed the edge of the table and steadied himself.
“Pick up the chair and sit back down.”
He leaned down, grabbed up the chair, and set it upright. It felt like his jaw might be broken. He sat back down, cowering under the torrent of pain weaving through his body.
“You want to call my niece a whore again?”
“Your...niece?” It was barely a whisper spoken across a swelling tongue.
“It’s not often that I regret doing business with people, Eli. I’m quite good at judging character. Somehow I knew my relationship with you would come to this. I sensed it. But I was willing to take a risk, a risk which I now regret.”
