ESCAPE FROM AMBERGRIS CAYE (9 page)

It was the end of a long day
covering stories accompanied by an intern. Morris Stone had said it was the best
he could do for the time being. The girl was sweet, but not particularly
bright; Jackson’d had to grit his teeth to keep from yelling at her. He knew
better than to do something like that. It wouldn’t be the first time someone
called the station to complain about cameramen “abusing” their reporters. Yeah,
right. And who complains about how reporters treat their photogs? No one,
that’s who.

He sighed and inserted his
front-door key into the lock. Now all he had to do was get through an evening
without Zac having a meltdown. He’d be glad when his brother’s visit was over.
After little more than a week, he’d had about all he could stand of him lying
around, messing up the place. Cleaning up after himself was hard enough for
Jackson without having to do it for two.

He swung the door open, expecting
to see his living room in shambles and his brother stretched out on the sofa
watching TV. To his surprise, not only was he greeted with a silence so
complete he could hear the faint ticking of the living room clock, but the
apartment looked pretty much the same as when he’d left for work that morning.
Puzzled, Jackson poked his head into his bedroom and then went out on the
lanai, expecting to see Zac passed out in an alcoholic stupor.

“Zac,” he called out. “I’m home.”
More silence.
What the hell? Where was he?
Then he remembered he’d
loaned him the car and was, no doubt, out living it up. Well that was just
fine. After all the man had never been to Florida before and was probably bored
silly laying around doing nothing all day. Still, he’d have to start using the
bus. If Jackson could do it, then he could too.

It was a little after nine. Jackson
had finished eating and was watching television when the door flew open and
Zach strolled in.

“Hey,” Jackson said, recovering
from a sudden start. “Where’ve you been? I already ate but there’re some
leftovers if you’re hungry.”

“I’m good.” Zac went to the fridge
and got a bottle of beer. “Want one?”

Jackson shook his head.

“So how’d your day go?”

Jackson shrugged. “I still don’t
have a reporter, so I just did some VOSOTs. Got tied up all day with a new
intern who doesn’t even know how to attach a video camera to a tripod. Damned
near broke a $50,000 piece of equipment. And guess who’d get blamed? Me, that’s
who. Man, I’m so tired of dealing with people like that.” He took a deep
breath. “Maybe I’ll have that beer after all.”

Zac, who’d started into the living
room, retraced his steps. “Here you go. Um, what’d you say you did?”

“What? Oh, the VOSOTs. Sorry,
sometimes I forget how much jargon we use at work. VOSOTs are voice-over sounds
on tape. It refers to a story read by the anchor in which the viewer sees video
over part of it, for example a car accident, followed by a sound bite say, from
a witness. We use them when there’s no reporter available.”

“Oh, I get it.” Zac took a pull
from his beer and leaned back in the swivel rocker. “Cool.”

“How ’bout you? What’d you do?
Looks like you’re sunburned. Go to the beach?”

“Well, yeah, actually I did, but
that’s not the half of it.” Zac’s leg bounced rapidly. He began to twist the
beer bottle around and around.

“So?” Jackson reached out and put
his hand on the bottle.

“Well, like we agreed I went to see
if the police found out anything and, of course, they hadn’t. Said they’d
checked with the family and were told Izzie takes off sometimes, but shows up
eventually. So unless we come up with evidence of foul play, there’s nothing
they can do.”

Jackson nodded. “Yeah, but…”

Zac raised his hand to stop him.
“So, I decided to check out the house with the balcony.”

“You did
what
?”

“I went over there to see what I
could find out. I gotta say it’s
kinda
creepy what
with the grates over the windows, the shades pulled down and all. Well, I
walked past then as I turned around, this guy comes
outta
the house, so I followed him.”

Jackson leaned in toward Zac. “You
didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did. Followed the guy into
a little dump of a restaurant, sat right next to him at the counter too.”

Jackson’s mouth dropped, his eyes
fairly bulged as Zac related the details of his encounter with Leon. Several
times he started to interrupt, only to be tamped down.

“
Lemme
finish, then you can ask all the questions you want.” Zac told him the whole
story, ending with the fact Leon’s girlfriend was named Isabelle Campbell.

The expression on Jackson’s face
was a mix of hope and alarm. “I
knew
it. That guy has something to do
with Izzie’s disappearance.”

“Well, maybe he does and maybe he
doesn’t. He seemed genuinely upset by their breakup. Said he loved her and was
having a hard time dealing with it. Didn’t you say she was a stuck-up bitch?
Maybe she went out with him a few times, led him to believe they had something
going and then dumped him. That’s what it sounds like.”

“I don’t know, Zac, I just have a
feeling there’s more to it than that.”

“Well, the guy does come off tough,
like he wouldn’t mind kicking your teeth in if you looked at him wrong. Anyway,
I’m going to tell the cops what I found out and suggest I get to know Leon better.
He said he was in the ‘import’ business and I want to see what he means by
that. When I asked him about it, he was evasive, which makes me think he’s
hiding something. On the other hand, with Izzie out of the picture I figure
he’s lonely and might welcome someone he can trust.”

Zac leaned back and took a final
gulp of beer. “So, what do you think?”

If he’d stuck his finger in an
electric outlet, Jackson could not have been more shocked. His brother, Zac,
the deadbeat who’d spent the past ten years smoking weed, drinking and
carousing, planned to literally put his life on the line for a woman he’d never
met.

“I think the police better be in on
this from the get-go or you could end up either the victim of a trafficker or
accused of being one.”
What if Zac up and disappeared like Izzie had?
“And
bro,” his voice wavered, “be careful.”

“Just so I’m clear. You want to
make friends with a guy who not only may have something to do with that girl’s
disappearance, but also may be involved in human trafficking? Is that what
you’re proposing?” If Detective Richard Anders’ eyebrows rose any higher,
they’d go clear off his forehead.

Zac nodded with the enthusiasm of a
six-year old. “Exactly. I know for a fact he was seeing Izzie. He told me so.
Said he loved her. No question about it. I don’t know what happened. He got
defensive when I ask why they broke up. Maybe she dumped him and he doesn’t
know where she went after that. But if that’s the case, why not say so? Anyhow,
there’s something fishy going on, know what I mean?”

Zac sat across from the detective
in one of the interview rooms. He wasn’t a stranger to the setup, having found
himself at the wrong end of the law on more than one occasion, mostly getting
caught driving drunk or buying marijuana. He knew that big “mirror” on the wall
was one of those two-way things equipped with a listening devise.

The detective was a thoughtful man
whose face reflected concern. “I know the guy you’re talking about; name’s
Leon, right?”

“Right.”

“We’ve actually had our eye on him
for
awhile
. From time to time, neighbors have
complained about noise and the condition of the place, but we could never get
anything to justify a warrant.”

“So, what about my idea? I could
buddy up to him, make him think I’m his friend. Get him to invite me inside and
take me into his confidence. Who knows, maybe he really is just a poor sap
mooning over a breakup, but I have a feeling there’s more to it.”

The detective took a sip from his
Styrofoam cup, leaned back and cleared his throat. “So you’re asking me to take
you on as an informant?”

“Exactly.”

The detective scrutinized Zac to
the point he felt as though the man had reached not only inside his head but
into his very soul. Finally he said, “I’ll have to talk to my commander, but I
think we can do that. Before I do, I want to make sure you know what you’re
getting yourself into. Human traffickers are the absolute worst; they’re the
scum of the earth. They’ll stop at nothing to avoid detection—and that includes
murder. You up for that?”

The serious expression on the
Anders’ face gave Zac pause. Was he willing to take that big of a risk for
someone he’d never met? Did he really give a damn what became of her? If Leon
actually was a trafficker, where did that leave Zac? His head began to
spin.  

“Maybe you’d better think it over
before you give me an answer.”

Hesitating for the slightest
second, Zac came to a decision. To this point he’d lived a life devoid of
concern for anyone but himself. He’d misused every relationship he’d had from
as far back as he could remember. Maybe it was time he grew up and put someone
ahead of himself for a change. It was true he’d never met the girl, but his
brother was concerned about her and that was good enough for him.

“I have thought it over, Detective.
I’m up for it,” he said and hoped he hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of
his life.

Leon leaned back in what passed for
his favorite chair—a broken-down rocker recliner left behind by the former
owners of the place. He closed his eyes and let the strains of Beethoven’s
Fifth wash over him, flooding his mind with memories of a distant past.

Classical music had been his secret
passion ever since he’d first heard it in Miss Krause’s music-appreciation
class. He couldn’t risk telling anyone for fear of being labeled a sissy. After
all, his friends—if you could call them that—had been into
gangsta
’
rap. He’d have gotten beat up every day if they found out.

So he’d kept it a secret from everyone,
including his family—no, especially from them. If they’d ever discovered his
one record, his brothers would’ve smashed it into tiny pieces, just to see him
cry. Somehow Leon had managed to keep it a secret to this very day.

Although it was badly scratched,
the music still came through, soothing him and bringing him sorely needed
comfort. It crossed his mind that he could replace it with a CD, but then he’d
have to go out and buy a CD player. He had a birthday coming in a few weeks.
Maybe he’d treat himself to one, instead of ignoring the day as he usually did.

Leon poured more bourbon into his
glass and sat back down, twisting the antique ring his grandmother had given
him when he turned sixteen. She’d told him to always wear it, that it’d bring
him luck. Now it was wedged so tight on his left pinkie finger he’d never get
it off.
Some luck!

That guy he’d met earlier, what was
his name? Jack? No, it was unusual. Leon was bad with names. He never forgot a
face, but names, he always had a hard time with them. Zac, that’s right. His
name was Zac. He hadn’t bothered asking his last name.
Who names their kid
Zac?
Playground bullies must’ve had a ball with that.

Leon took another gulp and closed
his eyes. It was nice being alone for a change. There was so much drama
whenever the product was around. He had to deal with their needs and get them
ready to sell. Sometimes Leon wondered if it was worth it. Oh, the money was
good, especially since he wasn’t qualified to do anything, but, as his painful
experience with Izzie proved, he couldn’t have a normal life.

It hadn’t bothered him until he met
her, then everything changed. He’d fallen so hard, so quickly. In such a short
time she’d made him see that life held possibilities he’d never dreamed of,
then, just like that, it all went up in smoke and he was listening to music by
himself…again.

He’d enjoyed this afternoon on the
beach with Zac. The guy seemed all right. Said he was visiting his brother.
Maybe, if he was careful, he could meet up with him for a drink before he left
town. Leon was in between product and had time on his hands. He’d learned his
lesson with Izzie, but surely meeting the guy for drinks and a few laughs would
be all right. He’d just have to be careful. That shouldn’t be too hard. All he
had to do was remember what happened with Izzie. He couldn’t make that mistake
again.

Zac was
sitting in the car trying to figure out what to do next when his cellphone
rang. He didn't have caller ID, so he had no idea who it might be. Maybe it was
Mom checking to see if he and Jackson had killed each other yet.

"Yes?"
he said. He'd never kicked the habit of refusing to identify himself when
answering the phone for fear of who might be on the other end.

"Zac?"

"Yeah,
who's this?"

"Leon.
You know, from yesterday—at the beach and uh, the restaurant?"

Zac
laughed. "Leon, you old dog. How're
ya
doin
’?" He hoped he wasn't putting the old-boy routine
on too thick.

"Fine.
Hey, if you're not doing anything,
wanna
grab a bite?
Then I’ll show you around Tampa, unless you have something better to do."

"Me?
Like what?"

"I
don' know, like maybe
hangin
' with your
brother?"

"
Naw
, he's
workin
'. So yeah, I’m
in. See you around twelve."

Zac
smiled. Problem solved. How about that? Now he could stop turning himself into
knots trying to come up with an excuse to get in touch with the guy.

Shortly
before noon, Zac sauntered into the restaurant and spotted Leon at the bar in
almost the exact same spot as the previous day.
Bet he's been here at least
half an hour.  Like an overeager girl on her first date.
Zac chuckled
.
Pathetic. And this loser's dangerous? Please.

Slipping
onto the barstool, Zac said, "Hey Leon, what's up?"

For the
next forty-five minutes or so, the two men made small talk between bites of
Cubans and swigs of beer. Then it was time for that tour.

****

Although
the afternoon was turning out to be pleasant, Zac had deep misgivings. He’d
never been picky about his choice of companions, but having to cultivate Leon’s
friendship hit a new low—even for him. Of course, he could be wrong. Maybe the
man was simply lonely. Somehow Zac had to get Leon to open up. It wouldn’t be
easy.

They were
downtown, walking past the Port of Tampa. “Cruise ships like that leave from
here all the time,” Leon pointed in the direction of an ocean liner docked
nearby. “I’d like to do that someday. It’d be a blast,
don’cha
think?”

Zac
nodded. “So, go for it. What’s stopping you?”

Leon
shrugged. “Now’s not the time. I got responsibilities.”

“What kind
of responsibilities? Looks to me like you pretty much come and go as you
please.” Zac held his breath. Maybe he’d finally got his foot in the door.

“Oh, you
know, the usual.”

When Leon
didn’t elaborate, Zac decided to push a little farther.

“Like the
import business you’re in?” He clamped his mouth shut and waited for what would
come next.

Leon
hesitated as if trying to decide whether or not Zac could be trusted. “Yeah,
that. If I’m not here, I lose money. How ’bout you? What do you do?”

Zac gave him
a sheepish grin. “Not a whole hell of a lot. Back home I live with my mom and
mostly just hang out. She’s always on my case to make something of myself, but
I think she finally saw the writing on the wall and gave up. That’s why I’m
visiting my little brother.”

He gave
Leon a long look. “I know the big brother’s the one who’s supposed to be
successful. Well, in my case it’s just the reverse. All my life, I’ve heard how
smart and handsome he is. Got to the point I hated the sight of him.” He
stopped talking as the truth of what he said sank in. It wasn’t Jackson’s fault
he was a failure.

Leon
appeared to listen with his heart instead of his ears. “I had older brothers
who bullied me from the time I could walk. I don’t mean just the usual kid
stuff either. I ended up with broken bones—cracked ribs and such.”

“So,
what’d
ya
do to make them stop?”

“Joined a
street gang, what else?”

“So you
traded one bunch of bullies for another?”

“Got that
right. But I toughened up to the point where I became the bully. Trust me it’s
a lot more fun on that side of the fence.” They both chuckled.

Resuming
his role of tour guide, Leon said, “We’re in the Channel District. That’s the
Tampa Bay Times Forum where the Republican National Convention was held several
years ago.”

Zac
realized the moment had passed; he wouldn’t be getting any more information
today. Might as well relax. Weaseling his way into the man’s confidence would
be a long drawn-out affair. He just hoped Izzie wouldn’t run out of time before
he got there.