Rivers to Blood (26 page)

“The bank keeps around two hundred and fifty,” I said, “but that includes what’s in the tellers’ drawers.”

“We fucked up,” he said.

“Wasn’t the first time,” I said. “Did you shoot yourself in the leg?”

He nodded. “I didn’t mean to,” he said. “It was a stupid accident. Accidentally shot the asphalt and it ricocheted up and hit me. Hurt like hell. But helped my story. Least I thought it did.”

“Did Turtle or the SEAL guy see you guys when you were at the plane?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Sure as hell didn’t see them.”

I thought about it for a minute, trying to assimilate what I had learned from him with what I already knew, trying to go with the shift in paradigm I was experiencing.

“You only have Todd, Shane, and Kenny’s word about what was in the plane,” I said. “Maybe Junior wasn’t dead or maybe there was a lot more money in it than what they told you. Or other things.”

“They could have gone back and—”

“Been seen by Turtle and the SEAL,” I said, though something at the edges of my consciousness nagged me.

“But I still don’t see why they brought the pilot up,” he said.

“Maybe they didn’t mean to,” I said. “He could have floated up out of the plane while they were in it. They could have staged the lynching as a way to cover what y’all had done.”

He nodded.

When we reached the landing I drove over to the search and rescue boat and Jake’s truck in the corner. There was no sign of anyone at the landing, though the vehicles of the deputies, FDLE agents, and game wardens searching for the bank robbers were scattered throughout.

“But that might not be it at all,” I said. “Junior could still be in the plane.”

“We need to find out,” he said, “but with the way my leg is, I don’t think I can dive.”

“I can,” I said.

Chapter Fifty-five

“W
hen’s the last time you dove?” he asked.

I turned off the car and cut the lights but didn’t get out.

I shrugged. “It’s been a while.”

“How many times have you since you got certified?”

Like most active people who lived near the Gulf of Mexico, I had taken a diving class and gotten certified as an open water diver. And though I really enjoyed diving—when my sinuses would let me do it pain free—I didn’t have a boat or a dive buddy, and hadn’t made much time for it in the two years since I had received my certification.

“Not many,” I said.

“You’re barely certified for open water,” he said. “Your only experience has been in the Gulf. Not only is this a night dive around wreckage, it’s in the river where visibility is usually near zero all the time anyway. There’s gators, strange currents, and quicksand. Plus you don’t have a partner.”

“It’ll be okay,” I said. “As low as the river is, it can’t be very deep. And you’ll be right above me in the boat if I need help.”

He shook his head. “Hell, no. I wouldn’t be any help if you needed it. No.”

“Jake we don’t have a lot of options here. I’m trying to keep you out of prison.”

He started to say something but stopped.

“I believe that you didn’t have anything to do with the murders,” I said. “And I understand why you did what you did. If we involve others, none of that’s gonna matter.”

Tears formed in his eyes again, and he blinked several times. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just thought if there was a chance to save her …”

“I know,” I said. “You don’t want to be in jail during her final days, do you?”

He shook his head.

“Come on,” I said. “We need to get the boat launched and get out of here before the others come back.”

A
s we neared the cross with Taylor’s name on it, I recalled Merrill and me seeing Todd, Shane, Fred, and Kenny in this same spot the day we saw Jensen and stumbled onto the SEALs.

Had they gone back inside the plane or were they just making sure it still wasn’t visible?

Jake cut the motor and let us drift into position. I took in a deep breath, held it a moment, then let it out slowly.

Those searching for the phantom bank robbers were several miles away. We appeared to be alone, though the loud nocturnal noises coming from the river swamps reminded us we weren’t.

It was a dark night. There were no stars, and the half-moon, its reflection dancing on the black ripples of the river, provided little illumination. A light breeze blowing across the water and through the cypress, oak, and pine trees held in its comfortable currents the first hint of a North Florida fall.

Jake helped me prepare the equipment and put it on, insisting that I wear a wetsuit—something I hadn’t done for my summer dives in the Gulf.

“It’s not for temperature as much as protection.”

The wetsuit was stiff and immobile and made it twice as difficult to put on the other equipment. It took a while to get ready and I began to become anxious about somebody discovering us.

In addition to the normal equipment—BCD, tank, regulator, depth and pressure gauges, mask, fins—Jake insisted that I wear gloves, take a diving knife, and carry a large light.

“Without the light you wouldn’t see anything at all,” he said. “With it you won’t see much. It’s going to be pitch black down there. Don’t freak out.”

“How deep is the plane?” I asked.

“Only fifteen feet,” he said. “But this fifteen is far more dangerous than a-hundred-and-fifty-foot dives in the Gulf. Try to stay off the bottom—it can suck you under and not let go. Watch for trash, debris from the plane, snakes, gators. And don’t go in the plane. Just look.”

I gave him a mock salute and eased over to the edge of the boat, the extra weight and lack of mobility making it difficult. Sitting on the edge, I prepared to flip over backward into the dark water.

“Try your regulator,” he said.

“Not until I get in the water and wash it off,” I said. “Whose is it?”

He shrugged. “Just an extra. I’m sure we’ve all used it one time or another.”

“I was really hoping not to catch a bad case of redneck,” I said.

“Fuck you, you big sissy.”

I smiled.

We fell silent a beat, and he said, “Moment of truth.”

I nodded.

“John.”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry about all this,” he said. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me.”

“Just be up here when I come back,” I said.

“Just come back,” he said.

I attempted to flip over backward, but only made it about halfway, my mask filling with water, my BC and tank twisting around, and the regulator getting knocked out of my hand.

“Goddamn,” Jake said. “You’re gonna die.”

I started laughing. When I could, I said, “Just give me a minute to get my sea legs.”

“You’re in a fuckin’ river, Einstein.”

I took a minute to get everything back in place, wash off the regulator, test it, then I gave him the okay sign and began my descent.

Adjusting my buoyancy, I moved slowly down into the dark, wet underworld.

Jake had been right. It was pitch-black and scary. I tried to remind myself to take long, slow breaths, but my slightly panicked breaths were erratic and shallow. If I didn’t get it under control soon, I was going to hyperventilate or drown.

The light illuminated only a small area right in front of it and then was subsumed by the darkness.

I had forgotten how strange the sounds were. All I could hear was the exaggerated sound of my breathing and the muffled echo liquidity of every sound.

After just five feet or so, I reinflated my BC to stop my downward motion, and took a moment to try to equalize the pressure in my head and stop the pain in my sinus cavities and ears. After a brief while of pinching my nose and blowing, and slowing down my breathing, I was ready to continue.

I deflated my BC and let the weight belt slowly pull me down, all the while trying not to think about what creatures were all around me, possibly preparing to strike.

Eventually my feet touched down on the top of the plane, which wobbled and shifted in the sand as I came to rest.

I inflated my BC enough to help me float and quickly took my weight off the plane.

Swimming down beside it, I held the light close to it, which confirmed it was the plane I had seen a couple of weeks back. It even had a small Air Ads Inc. logo on the tail. Coming around to the cockpit, I attempted to look inside, but the light was too weak, the river too dark, and all I saw was the light’s reflection off the glass.

I pulled myself over to the door by using the plane itself, which continued to shift and settle in the push and pull of the currents. The door was slightly ajar, moving back and forth as the plane did.

I eased it open and leaned inside.

It was a small plane, barely big enough for two adults, and whatever had been in it, including Junior himself, was now gone.

I took another few minutes to look around the area, but could see so little even directly in front of me that it made it a complete exercise in futility. Finally, I gave up, and began my slow ascent toward the top.

Now that I was relaxed, I began to enjoy the dark, wet, womb-like embrace. As I floated I began to try to figure a way out for Jake that kept him out of prison and didn’t cost Dad the election. Instead, the confirmations and revelations I had received from Jake took shape, and several elements of the case fell into place for me, and I began to better understand the murders and their meanings.

When I broke the surface of the river a minute or so later, Jake was gone.

Chapter Fifty-six

I
pulled out the regulator, lifted the mask to the top of my head, and adjusted the BC so I could float and not have to tread water.

Just as I was about to turn around to see if Jake had drifted or changed positions for some reason, a light came on behind me. As I turned toward it I was blinded, unable to see who was shining it at me.

“We didn’t leave anything down there, did we?”

I recognized the voice.

It was Todd. No doubt Shane was with him, and I wondered who else might be.

I closed my eyes, seeing spots as I did, and felt around behind me for the regulator hose. If I could pull the regulator toward me, deflate my BC, and stick the regulator in my mouth as I sank toward the bottom, I might be able to get away from them.

Before I could find the hose, I heard a shell being racked into the chamber of a shotgun.

“We want you stay up here with us,” Shane said. “No need to be unsociable.”

“Sorry,” I said, without opening my eyes, “forgot my manners.”

“Where’s that big pussy brother of yours?” Todd asked.

“We know he brought you out here,” Shane said. “Where’d he go?”

I attempted to shrug, but wasn’t able to move my shoulders enough for it to qualify. “I figured y’all had him.”

“We don’t,” Shane said.

Unless they were lying, and I couldn’t figure why they would, Jake either left for some reason or something happened to him—a very real possibility on the river these days.

“I know how low an opinion of your brother you have,” Shane said, “but he wouldn’t just leave you down there. Hell, he’s the reason you’re still breathing. Been working his ass off trying to protect you and keep you out of all this.”

“That mean he didn’t help you kill my dog?”

“Of course he didn’t,” Todd said. “But the fact that you think he could shows you don’t really know him.”

“I told ’em we’s killin’ the wrong bitch,” Shane said. “What’s the name of that married bitch you been boning?”

I knew he meant Anna but I didn’t say anything.

“Jake could need help,” I said. “We should—”

“So?” Shane said.

“I thought he was one of your crew?” I said. “Thought you guys were brothers.”

As I talked, I pretended to have to tread water, so I could reach down and grab the knife from the holster near the bottom of my right leg. Once I had the knife in my right hand, I opened my eyes again, avoiding the light, shading my eyes with my left.

“Fuck Jake,” Shane said.

“If you don’t care about Jake,” I said, “then what about the money?”

“We’ve got the money,” Todd said.

I shook my head. “You talking about the bags Kenny and Fred have?” I said. “That’s more of the counterfeit money from the plane. Jake switched the bags with two others he had filled with another two hundred and fifty from the eight.”

“Bullshit,” Shane said.

Of course it was but it was the best I could do and I was hoping the details added to its credibility, which must have been what they did because I could hear a hint of doubt nibbling at the edge of his words.

“Call Kenny and ask him,” I said, just making it up as I went along. “Ask him who loaded the money into the car while they put the truck in the river.”