He nodded and moved back, hitting a switch. The lights were extinguished.
They stood in darkness for what seemed like a very long time. Listening. It was almost pitch-black at first. Then Ashley discovered that she could dimly make out John Mast’s silhouette. He was holding what looked like a .45. She held her breath, then made a dash across the room to the kitchen, sliding along the wall that separated the kitchen from the dining area.
Again she listened….
Then, with a tremendous crash, the door flew open. Flashes of powder sparked in the darkness as John Mast’s weapon went off.
And fire was returned from the door.
Jake jerked his car to a halt as close to his boat as he could get. He jumped out, loped down the docks, and burst into the Gwendolyn. His first strides took him straight to the shower; he discovered that he’d been left two real estate folders. He noted the addresses and was ready to head straight out at a gallop, but forced himself to pause. He pulled up the old files on his computer. He scanned the reports and the newspaper articles.
He hit the button on the answering machine that supplied a readout of his calls over the last week. He knew his visitor had been erasing his messages.
It didn’t matter; he had what he needed. He had the answer—on at least a major piece of the puzzle. But he still had to be extremely careful.
He left the houseboat and put through a call to the one person he knew he could trust beyond a doubt. The one person who could supply him with what he needed most.
As he headed toward his car, he was startled to see Nick Montague come running out of the bar, racing to stop him. He paused, frowning, hoping Nick wasn’t in the mood to engage him in battle for some reason.
Nick wasn’t.
“I’m coming with you,” he said, heading for the passenger door.
“Nick, this isn’t—”
“I’m a Vietnam vet, I’ve got my service revolver, and I’m good with it,” Nick said simply. “Look, I don’t know everything that’s going on, but I know they’ve got my niece. And I know where they’ve gone.”
“So do I,” Jake said.
Nick glared at him. “Sharon gave me the addresses Ashley had asked her about. Where did you get them?”
“Ashley left them for me,” he said. He looked at Nick. “We’re not going straight there.”
“She’s in danger!”
“A head-on assault will put her in greater danger,” Jake said. Nick stared at him, and, after a moment, slowly nodded.
“You haven’t called in what you know, have you?” Nick asked.
“Not to Miami-Dade.”
“So who’s dirty?” Nick asked after a moment.
“I think I know, but I’m not certain. And I think we have more than just a rogue cop to deal with. I think someone else, someone we see around here all the time, is involved.”
Nick digested that as well.
“Want to tell me the battle plan?”
There was a scream; Ashley heard a thud as someone fell. John rushed forward. “Wait!” she warned.
Too late. She heard shots, then a grunt escaped John Mast. She saw his body fall limply, as if he were a rag doll. She winced. She had cried out and given away her location. There was only one escape. The kitchen door.
She ran out of the house, trying to gain her bearings in the darkness. There were trees everywhere. Rows between the trees, the fence to her right…to the rear, the swamp and the water.
She couldn’t head to the front. She would run right into an ambush. She tore along the rows of trees. She wasn’t certain, but she thought that whoever had shot John Mast was alone. She was certain that he would come after her. At least that would leave Mary and Stuart safe. For a while. As long as she could lead the killer on a merry chase through the groves and into the Everglades.
She could hear the footsteps thrashing after her in pursuit. She kept moving. She reached the end of the groves, and the grass almost immediately grew higher. She gritted her teeth, praying it wasn’t sawgrass or she would be cut to ribbons before she could move another few feet.
Not sawgrass, not yet. She was still on solid ground, trees ranging ahead of her. She kept moving. A massive spiderweb suddenly tangled around her. She nearly screamed. She held back, berating herself. Terrific. Would-be cop done in by a spiderweb. Clawing at the shreds that were still clinging to her, she kept going.
Suddenly she could hear voices. They were coming from ahead of her. Past a copse of trees, the terrain suddenly changed. The earth sloped down to the canal.
There were men there, men talking quietly, unloading plastic cartons from two small canoes pulled up on the muddy embankment.
They were clad in black, entirely in black. They blended with the night.
She slowed her gait but was still running. The men were ahead of her, a man with a gun was behind her.
Suddenly she heard one of the men carrying the cartons give a little shriek. She strained to see what was happening.