Deadly Catch (29 page)

I brushed by the secretary, stormed into Bo Pickron’s office, and slapped Marilyn’s pistol and the manila envelope on his desk. “Your sister just tried to kill me, Pickron. I don’t want to press charges, but the woman needs some serious help.”

For the first time since I’d met him, Sheriff Bocephus Pickron was speechless. His face paled as he reached for the revolver.

“Careful, it’s still loaded.”

He thumbed open the cylinder latch and dumped the spent cartridge and four remaining rounds into his palm.

“My prints are on it, too. I was too worried about getting my ass shot off to be dainty when I took it from her.”

Pickron stared at the revolver, holding it at different angles to the light. “It’s Marilyn’s. Was she drinking?”

“Does she ever stop?”

Pickron looked like he’d had the wind knocked out of his sails. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her anywhere close to sober.” He laid the weapon aside and reached for the envelope. “What’s this?”

“Photos. Tom Mayo took the black and whites, I took the colored shots. I’ve got copies so I’m leaving these with you. Let me know what you think, if you’re interested.”

Pickron picked up the envelope with both hands and tapped it on the desktop a couple of times like he was lost in thought.

“I need to know something, Pickron. Did you tell your sister about Maddie’s autopsy, that she didn’t die in the bay?”

He stared past me and nodded. “Yeah, after George’s funeral. She kept putting him down, blaming him for what happened to Maddie. George was a lot of things, McClellan, but he was no murderer. Marilyn needed to know that.”

“You should’ve told her sooner. Harper might still be alive.”

Pickron flinched like I’d jabbed him in the jaw. “What do you mean?”

“Just check out the photos.”

He grunted, his way of saying he’d get around to it.

“Anything on Elvis yet?”

Pickron looked confused.

“The guy I took down.”

He shook his head. “When we do, you’ll be the first to know. All the ID on the body was fake, like we figured. Pistol’s untraceable. We’re running the prints and dentals. We did find the stolen car they used abandoned in Georgia, so it looks like his partner’s flown the coop.”

I turned to leave. “Oh, I almost forgot. One of my sources overheard a conversation between Clayton Barfield and Ben Merritt this morning. I’ve got reason to believe a Barfield boat is coming in around midnight tonight. My guess is, it’s carrying drugs. Merritt said something about ‘taking care of it.’ I plan to be there. There’s your heads’ up.”

Pickron covered his face with both hands and let out a heavy sigh. “You got any proof?”

“No, just a hunch.”

“We need solid proof. They’ll never let you inside the gate without a warrant, and no judge in his right mind will issue one on hearsay.”

“I’ll swim.”

The sheriff shoved away from the desk and rocked back in his chair. “Look, McClellan, you might not think so, but I’m on your side here. But if you go trespassing on private property like that without a warrant, you’re fired.”

“So fire me.”

I headed for the door, then stopped and turned. “And get your sister some help.”

“Dang you, Mac, don’t do it,” Kate said, “it’s too dangerous. Please, let the law handle it.”

I laughed. “This has been going on for years, Kate. And the law is in on it, at least the law in St. George. I’m not sure where Bo Pickron stands, but he knows what’s going down tonight.”

I had called Kate at home after work and told her about my run-in with the Widow Harper and of my plan to sneak into Barfield Fisheries around midnight to try to get some solid proof of the smuggling operation. She’d driven right over and spent the next thirty minutes trying her best to talk me out of it.

“What can I say to make you change your mind?” she said, sniffling and on the verge of tears. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me. I’ll be fine.”

Kate held up two envelopes, letters I’d written and addressed to Megan and Mike just in case things didn’t go my way. “Then what about these?” She slapped them against the kitchen table. Tears were streaking her cheeks. “I’m just supposed to send these to your kids out of the blue, letting them know their father is dead? Dang you, Mac, that’s not fair to them and it sure as hell isn’t fair to me!”

I moved closer, put my arm around Kate’s shoulder, and kissed her salty cheek. “Look, I’ll be in and out of there in no time. I’ll be wearing black, I’ll be camouflaged, and nobody there will be expecting anyone to show up by swimming under the security fence. Piece of cake. Quit worrying.”

Kate sobbed and buried her face against my chest. “If anything happens to you, I don’t know what I’ll do. I lost someone before, and I don’t know if I can handle that again.”

This was news I hadn’t heard before. I put my other arm around her and hugged her tight. “Who, Kate? Who did you lose?”

She sniffled and wiped at the tears with her fingers. “My boyfriend, over ten years ago. We had talked about getting engaged soon, just before he went fishing in the gulf with a couple of good friends. A sudden squall came up, and their boat capsized. Searchers found the boat the next day, but they never found any trace of the men. It nearly killed me, Mac. I haven’t let myself get close to anyone since, until now. I don’t ever want to go through that again.”

Damned if this woman didn’t have a tight grip on my heartstrings. I was tempted to say to hell with it and just walk away from the whole mess. But Maddie’s smiling face in the photo at her funeral kept flashing through my mind; so did Joyce Mayo’s look of hope that someone might finally try to prove her husband had been shafted and maybe even killed over this mess. I couldn’t just turn my back on them and walk away now. I was too damn close.

I grabbed a paper napkin from the holder on the table and dabbed the tears from Kate’s cheeks. Cupping her chin in my palm, I turned her face to me and smiled. “How about when this is all over you take some time off from work, and we hook up the camper and go for a little vacation? I know a couple of kids up in North Carolina who would love to meet you.”

Kate managed a smile and nodded. “I’d like that. You really think they’ll like me?”

I kissed her forehead. “What’s not to like? You’re the real deal, Just Kate Bell.”

At eleven I started Kate’s Honda and headed east on Highway 98. We’d agreed that using her car would give me a better chance of not being spotted, since Ben Merritt and others were familiar with my Silverado pickup. Also, with my truck parked at the campground and Kate being there with the lights on, it would give the appearance that I was home. If I wasn’t back by daylight, Kate was to call the sheriff’s office and let Bo Pickron know that things had gone south on me.

I drove past the entrance to Barfield Fisheries and a quarter mile farther on turned right onto Five-Mile Island Causeway. There were a few pull-offs with picnic tables situated along the causeway. My plan was to park at the nearest of these, then walk the quarter mile or so back along the road until I was within sight of Barfield’s. I’d work my way down to the water, put on my snorkeling gear, and swim to their docks.

I parked Kate’s car to make it look as inconspicuous as possible and hid the key behind the left front tire. I grabbed my gear and backtracked down the causeway. Only two vehicles passed by, and I was hidden well off the road before their headlights could pick me up. A couple of hundred yards from Barfield’s a pair of tall palms grew along the roadside. Using the twin trees as a landmark, I eased through the brush and marsh grass to the shore. I slipped off my shoes and donned the snorkeling gear. A waterproof camera would’ve made the job a lot easier, but I hadn’t counted on swimming to get evidence when I bought the Lumix. To carry the camera, I had a net bag with a drawstring attached to my swim trunks to free up both hands, and the camera was sealed inside a waterproof bag. Double-checking to make sure the camera was secure at my hip, I frog-stepped into the water until I was deep enough to swim.

My time with Recon early in my Corps career gave me confidence that I could snoop around making as little noise and commotion as needed to pull this off. I was wearing black trunks and T-shirt, and camo paint covered any exposed skin. The KA-BAR combat knife strapped above my ankle and the cloud cover hiding the moon were an added bonus. I was ready to roll.

When I reached the outer fence I eased behind the next-to-last piling and took several minutes to gain my bearings and check out the situation. By hoisting myself up the piling a foot or so, I had a decent view of the two docks nearest me. I decided this piling would make as good a guidepost as any for my entrance and exit.

So far, Lady Luck was looking out for me. There were no guards around that I could see, though I was sure that would change later. Better yet, a flurry of activity on the outer dock told me the expected boat had docked there. The engine of the crane on the inner dock was chugging, and the boom was positioned over the outer dock. A big boat was moored to the inside of the outer dock; several crewmembers scurried about, packing fish and ice into wooden boxes and relaying them to others, who stacked the boxes on a large pallet attached to the crane’s cable. When the pallet was loaded, the crane lifted and swung the load over the water between the two docks and lowered it onto the inner dock where other workers unloaded the boxes and carted them to waiting refrigerated trucks.

I was betting that security would increase once the fish had been off-loaded and a trusted skeleton crew got down to the real business at hand, so I decided to do a little reconnoitering while the docks were still buzzing with activity. I had no idea how far down the fencing reached and needed to find a safe way in and out. I couldn’t chance a flashlight, and I knew it wouldn’t be easy finding my way in the dark. Worst-case scenario, I carried a small pair of wire cutters in a pocket of my swim trunks.

I took some deep breaths, gripped the piling, and pushed myself a few feet below the surface. It was almost pitch-black, though I could see a diffused glow reflecting from the dock lights when I glanced up. Satisfied I was deep enough not to disturb the surface, I inverted and slowly descended. I stayed within reach of the piling and kept an arm extended in front of me as a “feeler” so I wouldn’t nosedive into the bottom or some other unexpected structure.

I touched bottom just after clearing my ears. To my relief the fence ended two to three feet from the murky bottom, which I estimated to be around twelve to fourteen feet deep. I’d be able to scoot underneath the fence easily enough.

I swam a few yards laterally in both directions, making sure the clearing between the fence and bottom didn’t alter enough to trap me inside in case I needed to make a hasty retreat. Satisfied with what I found, I located my guide piling and eased to the surface with as little movement as possible.

A good hour passed before the crane shut down and the crew began to leave the docks and disperse to the parking lot. With the distraction of the main crew leaving, this was a good time to make my move. I took a few deep breaths and swam down. I slipped underneath the fence, making sure the net bag didn’t snag. Staying close to the bottom, I swept my lead hand back and forth until I contacted a piling of the outer dock. Exhaling slow and easy, I surfaced, being careful to keep to the inside of the piling. It was about six feet from the water’s surface to the top of the dock. I glanced toward the fence, located my guide piling, and then scanned my new surroundings.

The boat was about twenty yards farther up the pier. I eased through the black water until I was alongside the stern. I propped the mask on my forehead for a better look. There had to be access ladders somewhere leading from the top of the dock down to the water. I finned my way toward the front of the pier until I found them, one on either side, located about fifteen yards past the bow of the boat. Great. If I hoped to get photos from here, I’d have to climb up one of those ladders, which would put me in full view of the unloading festivities if somebody happened to glance my way. No way that would work.