Follow the Evidence (A Mac Everett Mystery Book 2) (11 page)

He handed me the sheaf of six
papers. I was almost afraid to look. Randi moved beside me and Caroline sat on
the floor next to her.

“It goes this way,” Danny said as
he turned the paper long ways.

The first piece of paper had an
abstract shape the length of the paper. Much of it was lightly colored black.
Randi leaned in close to look. The shape was long and narrow, sort of skinny
rectangle with a stubby point on one end. There were scribbles around the
squared off end and part way up the curved side.

“What is this Danny?” I asked
gently.

“I don’t know what it is, but I
dreamed it. That one,” he said pointing to the paper in my hand, “was the first
time I tried to draw my dream.”

“The psychologist suggested he try
drawing to express himself, but he didn’t want his father to know,” Mrs. Lewis
said

I put the paper on the floor and
studied at the next one. Better defined than the first one, it had the
rectangle curve into a more gentle point. In the middle was a green dot. At the
blunt end, there were some blue and white squiggles.

“What is this, Danny,” I asked
pointing to the doodles.

“I think it’s water,” he replied.

I put the paper on the floor next
to the first one then decided to put all them on the floor side by side. Each
of the six drawings were similar, but with an increasing level of detail.
Beginning with the third one a design appeared inside the rectangle. The
pattern looked like a head and morphed into doodles with each new drawing, but
the head remained close to the pointed end.

“Are these in the order you made
them?” Randi asked.

“No, this one came first,” Danny
said, switching the fourth and fifth drawings.

I didn’t know what we were looking
at, but I was sure if I could figure it out I’d find some answers.

The sixth and final drawing looked
like a Ka-Bar knife blade. It had the shape of a stout blade and all that was
missing was the handle. I could imagine the white and blue lines were the
blade’s serrations. The object seemed to jut out of a grey plane with white
foam around the squared off bottom and moving up slightly the curved side.
White lines came out of the side. This final one had complex, almost Asian
looking scrollwork, like a Japanese sword that ended in a squarish head. White
lines came from near the top. The only difference between the drawings, other
than the increasing complexity was that three of them had a large green spot
and the other three had a red spot in the middle of the rectangle nearer the
curved side. Each was in nearly the same location.

“What does this represent to you
Danny,” I said after I had stared at the drawings for a bit.

Randi seemed mesmerized too. I
didn’t know if she’d seen what I had.

“I don’t know, Mr. Everett, but it’s
what I remember from that day. It looks like a dragon.”

“It sure as hell…ah…it sure does.
Why are they different, Danny?” Randi asked.

“I see it in my dreams,” he
replied. “When I wake up, I try to draw a picture. I guess I remember something
different each time.”

“The psychologist says the drawings
help him express his fear,” a worried Caroline said. “Has it helped you?”

“Danny, Mrs. Lewis I don’t know if
this has helped, but I appreciate you trying. Thanks very much. Do you mind if
I take pictures of these?”

“Sure,” Danny said.

I snapped some pictures of Danny’s
drawings and then we took our leave. We made a detour through the Lewis garage
to check out Danny’s bicycle where Randi reminded me we owed the boy some LED
lights.

Once we were in the car. Randi
said, “What was all that crap about mind reading?”

“I was going to tell you about
that,” I mumbled.

“I guess now would be a good time,”
Randi replied.

“That story about being in a
coma…it was the truth.”

“You can’t really read minds?”

“It’s not mind reading. I use body
language, word choice, subvocal expression, and a lot of intuition. I was an
interrogator in the army. I really can tell when someone is lying. I sense it
in their eyes.”

“What do you see in my eyes?” she
asked.

“I don’t need a special talent to
read your intentions missy.”

She laughed and said, “I guess you
don’t do you? Did you really get this ability from being in a coma, or was that
just for Danny’s benefit.”

“The doctors think my brain rewired
itself.”

“Bottom line, you can
almost
read minds,” she said.

“Pretty damn close and not too many
people know about it either,” I said. “How’s that make you feel?”

She looked at me for a long while.
I could see the wheels turning. Her body language was relaxed and her eyes time
and again looked down and to the right. Randi was examining her feelings.
Finally, she smile and said, “I’ll just have to be sure I’m honest with you.
That’s not a bad thing.”

“Good…sometimes it scares people
off. Can you keep it on the down low?”

“Sure,” she said. Her smile was
broad and her eyes filled with hope. “We made a pretty good team in there.”

“Yeah we did,” I replied. “I guess
you’ve interviewed a lot of kids.”

“It doesn’t take long to get them
talking if you can be honest with them. Danny was a piece of cake.”

“You did a four-oh job. You got
twice as much as I would from him.”

“You seemed anxious to leave after
we looked at Danny’s drawings. What gives?”

“I didn’t want to say anything. I
want his memories to be his own. You didn’t see it?” I asked.

“No, they just looked like a kids
doodles,” she replied.

“Look at this,” I said as I opened
my phone’s camera and handed it to her.

“It’s just the dark things in a
kid’s nightmares.”

“Turn it ninety degrees,” I said. I
accelerated away from the curb. “Look at the last one.”

“What am I looking at?” she asked.

“Don’t you see it?”

“I don’t see anything,” she said.

“Do a Google search on cigarette
boat,” I suggested. “Then look at that last image again.”

She fumbled with the mobile browser
for a bit then came across some photos.

“Holy crap!” she exclaimed. “He saw
one of these boats.”

The red and green lights-they’re
port, and starboard marker lights. The moving white light…”

“That could be a search light!” she
exclaimed. “We have to tell Danny his and mother.”

“We will…soon,” I mumbled.

I wasn’t sure what I heard in her
voice, but when I caught her eye, I knew. It was fear.

“I’m going to have to go out of
town,” I said.

“Where are we going?” Randi asked.
“I was wrong about you. You do move fast,” she said with a chuckle.

“The
Wind Dancer
was coming
from Nassau when those people disappeared,” I replied.

“Sure, let’s check it out.”

“What do you mean
let’s
check it out?” I snapped.

“I thought you meant we would go
together.”

“Not damn likely,” I snapped. I
didn’t need the excess baggage no matter how good she looked.

“I can help,” she insisted.

“Maybe, but you’re not going. I
work alone.”

“I said I wanted in and you can’t
stop me,” she snorted.

“You did and Stan agreed to it. I
didn’t. Go help Stan,” I replied.

“We’ve uncovered a strong lead. I
can help,” she insisted.

“Randi, that’s not going to
happen,” I said. “I have no idea what I’m up against. I’ll be off my home turf
and damn it, I work alone.”

“But Mac…”

“Enough,” I snapped.

We drove along in tense silence for
a bit. The woman didn’t give up. I admired her for it but it was too much to
fast. My little voice as telling me to go slow, but Randi wasn’t having any of
that.

“Randi, I’m sorry,” I began. “I
shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. We just met. You’ve been a big help and
I’m grateful.”

“It’s my fault. I get way too
intense. It felt so natural interviewing Danny with you. I shouldn’t have
assumed you felt the same way I did.”

“Hold on there, missy,” I replied.
“Are we talking about the case or about us?”

“Both…I guess,” she replied.

“Well crap, if there’s a zombie
invasion you’re safe. They only eat brains.”

“What! You can’t say that to me.
I...”

“Hold on, you’re adding two and two
and getting five,” I said. “I want your help, but…” I waited, trying to find
the right words. “I want you to sit this one out.”

“Oh, so you don’t think I can’t
take care of myself…”

“Shut up!” I said, about to lose
it.

I couldn’t take any more and Randi
was doing a slow burn. Our relationship had hit rock bottom before it began.

“Randi, I don’t know what I’ll
find,” I explained. “Besides, we only met yesterday. Can you take care of
yourself-yep I’m sure of it. What I’m not sure of is if I can take care of you.
I lost someone I was getting close to.”

“Ah Mac, that’s so sweet. You do
care,” she said. She grabbed my arm and put her head on my shoulder.

Who can understand women? We
sparred a few more minutes and she finally dropped it.

“So why Nassau?” she asked.

“If the sailboat left from Nassau,”
I said, “maybe I should start there. I could get lucky.”

“I’ve been trying to get lucky with
you since I met you,” she laughed. “All right,” she huffed a bit deflated. “I
can help. I have a contact in Nassau. I’m sure she can help, but no hanky panky
until you get back. I saw you first.”

With Randi’s help, I’d uncovered a
big lead. Turning Danny’s drawings ninety degrees produced a crude resemblance
to a cigarette boat. The coasties though they’d seen a similar boat to. I
didn’t know it meant, but it was a break. Maybe, just maybe, there had been a
third boat out there. If there was, Jennifer and Sergio might still be alive.
Now
who was grasping at straws
?

My Camaro ate up the road and the
trip back seemed half as long as the trip out. Randi called her friend in the
Bahamas and arranged for her to meet me at the airport. Then she booked a
flight to Nassau for me.

I’d dropped Randi off at her
office, picked up my passport and a change of clothes at my place, and three
hours later swung into the Orlando Airport. I checked in, hustled through
security, and on the stroke of seven o’clock, collapsed into a seat in an empty
international departure lounge. The quiet gave me a chance to go over my
conversation with Randi. Maybe I was just being stubborn. Having her along
might not have been so bad. I’d pissed her off and she had sulked in the
passenger seat. When she finally cooled down, her questions helped clarify my
thoughts.

“What do you expect to find in
Nassau?” she’d asked.

“I’m not sure,” I replied. “All I
know for sure is my client’s daughter left on sailboat from there and it’s
clear Danny Lewis saw something that could have been a boat. Nassau seems like
the logical place to start.”

“Do you think it’s related to
Sheriff Winton’s investigation?” she asked.

“What do you think?” I replied.

“I’m not big on coincidence.”

“Neither am I,” I replied.

“So you think there is some
international conspiracy abducting yuppie women?” she mocked. “That’s about as crazy
as you being able to read minds.”

“That’s not a good analogy,” I
replied.

“I still want to go,” she said.

“I know. Thanks for understanding.
What can you tell me about this person in Nassau?”

“Her name is Madison Todd. We met
at a conference. About a year ago, I helped a fourteen-year-old girl from
Andros Island who was turning tricks. Madison cut the red tape with Bahamian
Immigration so the kid could go home.”

“Is she a volunteer like you? I
asked.

“I think she works for the Bahamian
Police. When I called, she offered to help find us, ah- you, and find you a
place to stay.”

“That’s the kind of friend you need
in a racket like this,” I replied.

I was thinking of how Ben Tracy and
Shannon Winter had already helped, until the boarding call for my flight
brought me back to reality.

I handed my ticket to the gate
agent and loped down the jet way to a Bahamas Air regional jet. It was a small
plane, with two seats on either side of the aisle. There weren’t many people on
the flight so I found my seat, tossed my bag in an overhead bin, and buckled
up. I put my phone on airplane mode and stared out the window. As the plane
rolled out to the runway, I settled back in my seat. It wasn’t long before the
plane launched into the sky and I was asleep.

The cabin lights came on and the
flight attendant began her spiel, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are making our
final approach into Nassau. Please bring your seat backs into their upright
position…”

The drone of the landing
instructions faded as I looked out the window. The hotels along the coast
twinkled in the clear night. Twenty minutes later, I was on the ground, my
passport, and overnight bag in hand. I filed out with the other passengers and
followed the signs to Bahamian Customs and Immigration area. I cleared customs
and then walked into an entrance lobby with an impressive soaring ceiling.
Curved mirrors reflected dozens of suspended blue balls. It had a welcoming
feel.

I wonder how I’ll find Madison
Todd
, I thought. As if on cue the public address system announced,
“Arriving passenger MacDonald Everett, MacDonald Everett please meet your party
in the Resort Reception area in the International Arrivals area. Arriving
passenger MacDonald Everett, MacDonald Everett please meet your party at the
resort reception area in the International Arrivals area.”

“I guess that answers that,” I said
aloud. A sign pointed me to the resort reception area.

Even without the sign with my name
on it, Madison Todd wasn’t hard to spot. She stood head and shoulders above
anyone nearby and was the best-looking woman in the place. She was a stunning,
well-proportioned woman with a healthy set of lungs that looked like she could
be a silicone sister. Her burnished complexion was light mahogany. Raven hair
pulled back in a smooth ponytail revealed an oval face with a smooth jaw. She
had mile high cheekbones, a slim upturned nose, and a pair of light brown eyes.
Dressed in loose white slacks and blouse she was a knockout who looked cool and
in control.

“Hi, I’m Mac Everett,” I said.

“Mr. Everett! Welcome to Nassau,”
Madison said in a clipped British accent. “It's good to meet you.”

I shook the woman’s hand.

“I was a bit surprised when Randi
called,” Madison said looking me over.

I found her hand cool and her
handshake firm. We locked eyes and she turned up the heat, giving me her
brightest smile.

“Thanks for giving me a hand,” I
said.

“We Bahamians love meeting new
people and making friends. It’s my pleasure,” Madison said. “I regret Randi
couldn’t come too.” She didn’t sound regretful, but maybe it was my
imagination.

“You’ve arrived so late in the day
you won’t see our beautiful island tonight and there is normally a steel band
here in the arrival area. Right, let’s go to my car and you can tell me what
this is all about.”

“I won’t hold you up long. If you’d
just drop me at the hotel, I can take it from there.” I said as we hit the
doors. The warm air was heavy with the smell of the sea.

“You’re staying with me,” Madison
said. She gave me an impish grin.

“I couldn’t do that,” I objected.

“Nonsense,” she protested. “I have
a guesthouse. You’re a guest.”

“I couldn’t put you out like that.
Besides, I don’t know how long I’ll be staying,”

“It’s no burden. Use the guesthouse
as long as you wish.”

Madison had decided. She was a
take-charge sort of gal.

“All right,” I agreed as we reached
her white Lincoln Navigator.

“Sir Lynden Pindling International
Airport, named after our first Prime Minister and the father of Bahamian
independence,” Madison began as she pulled out onto the road, “is on the west
end of New Providence Island. My home is in Nassau Cay. It’s only a
twenty-minute drive. Relax and enjoy the evening.”

How big is this island?” I asked,
stifling a yawn.

“It’s a little more than two
hundred square kilometers, that’s eighty square miles for you Americans. I will
show you as much of my country as I can while you are here. Where are my
manners? You must be famished. Do you fancy a bite to eat? I know just the
place if you’re game. We can talk about your investigation.”

“I could eat,” I said. What I
wanted to say was I needed a drink.

Madison drove to a little café
called the Quarter Deck. Madison knew the owner so we got a primo table on the
second floor veranda overlooking a marina. I had a grouper sandwich and coffee
while Madison had three tall bourbons on the rocks that she downed like Coca
Cola on a hot day.

“You’re not eating, Madison?” I
asked.

“No, I’ll just have a little bevy,”
she replied.

When the waiter was out of earshot,
Madison asked, “So what brings you to my little corner of paradise?”

“A missing person case,” I began.
“Have you heard about the people who disappeared from the sailboat off the
Florida coast during hurricane Eva?”

“You mean the Nassau Ghost Ship?”
Madison replied. “We hear about little else here.”

“The parents of one of the missing
girls hired me. I don’t think there’s much chance of learning anything,” I
admitted.

“What about the missing girls Randi
mentioned?” she said. I gave her a scowl, but knew I’d have to answer
eventually.

“It’s a long shot, but since the
Wind
Dancer
set out from Nassau, I thought I’d start here,” I said. “I’ve got
the name of the harbor master and an investigator from the United States Coast
Guard. I’d like to talk to those two people.”

“And the missing girls…,” Madison
insisted.

“It may not be related, but it
never hurts to…” I decided I’d clue her in. “There’s an unusual number of
missing women in Orange County. I have to consider that the people on the
sailboat might be part of a trend,” I said.

“Brilliant,” Madison exclaimed. I
could hear the bourbon in her voice. I wasn’t sure if her exclamation was
agreement or disdain.

“Can you put me in touch with
somebody with the local police?”

Madison leaned back and released a
slow crescendoing belly laugh. “Put you in touch with the local police,” she
laughed. “Randi didn’t tell you?”

“Well, no, not really,” I
stuttered. “She said you helped her out once but that was about all.”

Madison laughed again. “I’m the
RBPF Superintendent for Major Crimes, that’s the Royal Bahamian Police Force.
My dear Mr. Everett you
are
in touch with the local police.”

“I am sorry, Madison, ah,
Superintendant Todd. I had no idea.”

“It’s of no consequence,” she said.

We chatted amiably enough, but it
was clear Madison was sizing me up.

“How long have you known Randi,”
Madison asked.

“I met her yesterday. I went to her
for information on human trafficking.”

“So you two aren’t involved?”
Madison asked. “I assumed…”

“No, no we just met.”

“Oh,” she said. If one word could
reveal intentions, it was the way this woman said ‘oh’.

I gave her a rundown on the
Jennifer Summers case, the unexpected increase in missing women in the Orlando
area, and the weird feeling I had the two were connected. I left out I’d found
one of the supposedly dead people though. There was no sense complicating
things too soon. When I finished she said, “That’s not much to go on.”

No shit Sherlock
. Then she
said something that changed my ideas about the case.

“My country has been a haven for
smugglers for centuries. Pirates hid out here. African slaves as well as arms
and ammunition for your county’s revolution shipped through the Bahamas.
Bootleggers ran everything from rum to Canadian Club from The Bahamas during
your Prohibition. The newer scourge of drugs come through here too, why not
modern slaves.”

“You can’t be serious,” I snapped.

“Only thirty out of our seven
hundred Bahamian islands are inhabited. You know what that means?”