Fallen Honor: A Jesse McDermitt Novel (Caribbean Adventure Series Book 7) (38 page)

“Cap’n, yuh say to call if I see dem two bald black mons. Dey just now cross di Stock Island Bridge, headin’ into town. A white mon was wit dem.”

Two bald black men?
I thought. Erik Lowery was dead. Then I remembered. When the gray van had arrived, the man driving it had been tall and black, with a shaved head, just like Bradley and Lowery.

“Scott, you and Donnie are with me.” I started to jog across Old Dixie Highway toward the gun store. “Where’s Germ?”

“Sitting on the wife,” Donnie replied. “What’s going on?”

“We have to get to Key West,” I shouted back.

The two men raced after me as I dashed around the building. The chopper pilot was leaning against his aircraft, taking advantage of what little shade it offered, as I came running up with my phone in my hand.

“Get her started,” I shouted as Travis answered the phone. “Colonel,” I said into the phone, “Bradley and Conner are in Key West, probably headed to Dawn McKenna’s place. We’re headed there now in Nick’s chopper. Call Key West PD and let them know. They should be considered armed and are wanted for murdering a DHS agent.”

“What?” he shouted. “Who?”

“Greg Murray,” I replied, climbing into the copilot’s seat.

I ended the call as the blades began turning, the turbine beginning to spool up. Minutes later we were in the air, flying low over the southernmost tip of the Florida mainland. Climbing, I pointed southwest and shouted to the pilot, “Key West! As fast as you can get there.”

Flying out over the water of Florida Bay, the long chain of islands stretched out to the hazy horizon far in the distance. The pilot climbed to a thousand feet and leveled off. “We can make Key West airport in about forty minutes.”

How could something so easy go so wrong, so fast?
I thought.

S
hortly after parking in the shade of the banyan tree, a Key West police cruiser pulled up in front of the mystic’s shop and a cop got out. He went to the door, tried it and then knocked on the glass. Peering through the window, he then moved around the small converted house, reappearing on the opposite side, looking through the window there.

GT and Malik slid down in their seats when the cop arrived, watching with just their eyes above the dashboard. Finally, the cop went to his car and pulled the radio microphone from the passenger side and spoke into it for a minute. Then he got in the car, drove to the corner and turned left.

“What do you make of that?” Malik asked.

“Means we know she’s not here yet, we wait.”

Five minutes later, the fortuneteller walked right past in front of the van, carrying a canvas bag loaded with groceries. Even though GT had only seen her for an instant when she’d let Buchannan in, he knew it was her. She actually glanced in the van as she walked past and nodded, before turning and crossing the street. At the door, the woman unlocked it and went inside.

“Okay,” GT said. “Let’s move.”

All three men got out of the van, trotted across the street, and just walked right into the mystic’s shop. GT locked the door behind him. He pulled a cheap Glock .45 out that he’d had Brown include in the deal.

Off to the left was a room decorated in red and gold fabrics, a large round table taking up most of the center of it and plush velvet chairs around the walls.

“I’ll be just a minute,” the woman’s voice came from the back of the building. “Just make yourself at home in the parlor.”

Pointing to Conner, GT whispered, “Sit over there on the far side of the table.”

As Conner made his way over, GT said, “Other side of the door, Malik.”

The two black men put their backs to the walls on either side of the door inside the parlor and waited. GT slowly holstered his gun. After a minute, they heard footsteps approaching from the back and the woman stopped in the doorway. “Oh,” she said. “You’re not Lawrence.” Then, stepping toward Conner seated at the table, she smiled and asked, “Are you here for a reading?”

Stepping forward quickly, GT wrapped a strong arm around the woman’s waist, pulling her back into him. He covered her mouth with his other hand, his mouth at her ear. “Bet ya didn’t see that coming, did ya, fortuneteller?”

The woman struggled against him, but he was far stronger and he simply lifted her by the waist and carried her into the middle of the room. “Now, you be quiet and you might just make it through this. Where’s Buchannan live?”

Stepping up next to GT, Malik started to say something, but was interrupted by a metallic clang. Malik simply slumped forward on the table as Conner stood up and started to come around it.

GT spun around, shoving the woman toward Conner. There in the doorway stood the old taxi driver, an aluminum bat in his hands. The man took a powerful swing, which GT quickly ducked under, drawing his gun at the same time. The report of the shot was deafening. The taxi driver continued his spin, the momentum of the swing, along with the big forty-five caliber slug that entered his right shoulder from behind, carrying him completely around. He collapsed onto the floor. The woman screamed, running toward the fallen man.

Conner managed to grab her around the waist and she fought him with a ferocity he hadn’t expected in such a small woman. She somehow twisted around in his embrace, her fingernails raking the skin off his face, searching for his eyes. Stepping forward, GT hit her in the back of the head with the butt of the gun and her struggles quickly ceased.

Looking around, GT saw a door in the corner and opened it, revealing a large closet lined with shelves. In the corner was an old upright vacuum cleaner. He grabbed it and yanked the cord loose, tossing it to Conner. “Find something to cut that with, then tie them both up in the closet.”

Conner scurried out of the room, headed to the back of the house, where he assumed there’d be a kitchen with knives. When he returned, GT was kneeling over Malik, the man just beginning to groan as GT helped him to his feet.

Conner went to the taxi driver first. The bullet had gone through his upper shoulder cleanly, the wound already starting to congeal. Tying the man’s hands behind his back, he went quickly over to the woman. Checking the back of her head, there was a large knot where GT had hit her, but he found only a little blood.

Conner quickly tied her hands behind her, then rolled her over. Pulling her into a sitting position, he was surprised at how little she weighed when he lifted her up onto his shoulder and easily carried her to the closet.

The much larger taxi driver was a different story. Finally, Conner hooked his hands under the man’s shoulders and dragged him backward to the closet. Stepping back out, he asked, “What do we do now?”

“Check her purse for a phone,” GT said. “Maybe that Buchannan’s number is there. We’ll text him and say there’s trouble and he needs to get here quick.”

Conner looked around and spotted a purse on a table by the parlor entry. Looking through it, he pulled her phone out, found her contact list and scrolled through it, but didn’t find a Buchannan, nor a Stretch. “Nothing,” he said and went back to the purse, looking through the billfold for a business card or something with the man’s number on it. Finally, he looked at GT and shrugged. “A bag of weed, lipsticks, and a grocery receipt.”

A loud knock came from the front door and GT raised a finger to his lips. Tiptoeing to the window, he took a quick glance outside. It looked like the same police cruiser was again parked outside. This time, the cop didn’t go around looking through windows. He just walked back to the police car, got in and drove away.

“We’ll wait till the bitch wakes up, then make her text the guy,” GT said, plopping down in an overstuffed velvet chair.

Malik gently rubbed a big swollen spot on the side of his head, but the guy had only got him with a glancing blow and he counted himself lucky. Ten minutes later, sitting in a chair across from his boss, who now had his eyes closed, Malik heard a car pull up out front.

“GT, someone’s here,” Malik whispered.

Getting quickly to his feet, GT went to the door and looked out. He couldn’t believe his eyes. They wouldn’t have to wait for the woman to wake up after all. He reached down and quietly unlocked the door, then retreated to the parlor, picking up the bat and hiding behind the wall. He motioned Malik and Conner to the other side of the opening and waited.

J
ust as we were approaching the airport, my phone rang. It was George Hamilton. I pushed the button to accept the call and said, “What’d you find out?”

“She’s not in the house. The back door was unlocked and I waited until the local cop arrived and we went in. No sign of her and no sign of a struggle. I sent the cop back over to her shop to check again. He’s pulling up now, hold on.”

I heard a muffled conversation and then Hamilton came back on. “Not at her shop either. She’s just disappeared.”

“Is it possible she went for a walk and you missed her?” I asked.

“Possible, like I said, the back door was unlocked and it’s only a few feet from the path. But I should have seen her there.”

“I just spoke to the taxi driver, Lawrence. He said he usually stops by her shop for coffee about this time and would be there in just a few minutes. Head to the airport and pick us up.”

“Roger that,” Hamilton replied.

Minutes later, Hamilton came to a stop in front of the general aviation building and the three of us climbed in. Shaking his hand, I said, “Go to her shop. You can drop me and Scott off there, then you and Donnie can go back to her house. Every cop in town is looking for them and for her. It’s just a matter of time.”

Minutes later, I was relieved to see Lawrence’s cab parked at the curb in front of her place of business. Scott and I climbed out into the blazing heat and I suddenly felt extremely tired. I’d been up most of the night, running on caffeine and adrenaline mostly. The oppressive heat and high humidity just added to my weary feeling.

I opened the door and let Scott go ahead of me. “Dawn?” I shouted. “It’s Jesse.” Hearing nothing, I motioned Scott to check the back of the house and I stepped sideways into the parlor.

Out of nowhere, an aluminum bat hit me square on my upper left arm. The pain shot up through my shoulder and neck then exploded in my head. I instinctively spun away, only to be caught flush on the jaw by a crashing fist. As I continued to spin in slow motion toward the deck, my eyes caught sight of Chase Conner in the corner of the room.

I landed hard on my injured arm, and a new wave of pain shot through me, spots and swirls fading in and out of my sight as I heard a loud boom. I tried to raise my head up, but the pain was too intense and my head fell back and rolled to the side. Trying to focus, I saw Scott standing in the doorway, a red stain spreading across the left side of his chest.

“Not yet, motherfucker!” I heard a voice yell.

Rough hands grabbed the front of my shirt, pulling me up. A hand grabbed my jaw and turned my head, so that I was looking into GT Bradley’s hate-filled eyes.

Seeing his right hand cock back, my mind told my body to move, but nothing happened. Bradley’s fist caught me squarely on my left eye. The pain didn’t even register as my head bounced off the deck and my vision started to fade to black.

“I’m just gonna cut you up slowly,” the man hissed. I felt something cold against the side of my face. It suddenly turned white hot, and a new pain registered in my brain as warm blood trickled down my cheek and neck.