Wild Break Page 13

  “A copycat?" I suggested.

  33

  "There's something else," Brenda said. "The bruising on Grace Livingston's neck is slightly different from the two other victims."

  My brow lifted with intrigue.

  "All three girls were strangled with two hands around the throat. It could just be random variation, but the more I think about it, the more I believe whoever killed Grace Livingston was left-hand dominant. The bruising pattern indicates the left hand was placed above the right hand. You typically see the opposite pattern with a right-hand dominant person. Again, it's not conclusive. There are a lot of variables that go into it, and murder is typically a messy ordeal."

  I thanked Brenda for the info, ended the call, and slipped the phone back into my pocket.

  By that time, Finley sauntered up to the main deck in her bra and panties—always a welcomed sight.

  She gave me a hug and a kiss. "Morning! Smells good."

  I dished up a few plates, and we had breakfast in the dining area.

  "Do you want to go to the Chloe-C concert today?" Finley asked. "She invited me to watch it from her yacht. I'm sure you got the invitation, too."

  "Yeah, I think that would be fun."

  "I don't know what time they're leaving the marina, but I'm sure it will be pretty early. The sandbar at Barracuda Key will be packed. Bands have been playing all weekend. There has to be thousands of boats on the water out there."

  “See if you can find out what time Chloe’s leaving," I suggested.

  Finley called the pop-star. She put the call on speakerphone.

  “Hey, Fin-Fin!” Chloe shouted.

  "Hey, C! I'm with Tyson Wild. We want to see your show! When is your yacht leaving the harbor?"

  "Hi Tyson," Chloe's voice crackled through the speaker.

  "Hey Chloe!" I said.

  "You guys, I'm already out here. We left in the evening and spent the night out here. I thought I told you we were leaving yesterday?”

  "It's been kind of a crazy weekend."

  "No doubt. Anyway, it's no big deal. Just come on out and take a tender over. There's plenty of room on the yacht. We have the stern facing the stage, so you'll have a great view. The yacht is anchored in a reserved section. It's going to be great. There have been so many amazing bands already."

  "How crowded is it?" Finley asked.

  "Oh, my God. It's unbelievable. You can hardly see the water there are so many boats out here. It's the craziest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s been so cool. I can't wait to do it again next year!”

  "Well, if we don’t see you beforehand, have a great show. We’ll get out there this afternoon."

  "Awesome! Ciao!”

  Finley ended the call. "I need to get back to my condo and take care of some things. I'll get changed and come back over, then we can head out to Barracuda Key."

  "Sounds like a plan to me."

  "Call JD and let him know,” Finley said. “I’m sure he can drum up a companion on short notice."

  I chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure he could."

  We finished breakfast, and Finley got dressed and left. I took Buddy for his morning walk, then called JD to update him.

  He told me about his escapades at Sand Bar after we left last night. I sat in the aft deck, listening to his tale of debauchery, drinking a cup of coffee, enjoying the calm of the morning. It wouldn’t last long before the raucous partying started again.

  Another call came in while I was talking to JD. It was from a number I didn't recognize. I told JD I would call him back, then clicked over to take the incoming call.

  "Deputy Wild?" a timid voice asked.

  "You’ve got him!”

  "This is Harmony Grant. I hope it's not too early to call?”

  "Not at all. What can I do for you?"

  "I've been thinking about our conversation."

  "Is there something you would like to add?" I asked, hopeful.

  She hesitated for a long moment. "Can you guarantee my safety?"

  That piqued my interest.

  “There are a number of ways we can offer you protection. Tell me who we would be protecting you from?"

  "I want assurances that I won't be prosecuted,” Harmony said.

  "I'd have to talk to the DA, but I'm sure we can work something out if the information you provide is helpful. What kind of charges are you worried about?"

  "Perjury," she said.

  It hung there for a moment.

  "Let me guess, you weren’t with Damien Silver the night of Alana Steel’s murder, were you?"

  There was another long moment of silence, then Harmony broke down in sobs. She cried for a moment, sniffled, then pulled herself together. "No. I wasn't."

  "Why did you lie?"

  "You have to understand, I was in love with Damien Silver. He swore to me that he didn't have anything to do with Alana Steel’s death. I believed him. Or, maybe, I wanted to believe him. He told me that if I didn't say I was with him, he would go to jail, and we would never be together. At the time, I didn't think he was capable of murder. He had told me their relationship had long been over. I bought into it. I didn't want to see an innocent man go to jail. The man I loved. It was only later when I began to realize that he has a violent side."

  "Why didn't you come forward then?"

  "Because he threatened to kill me if I said anything. I was terrified. By that point in time I had seriously considered the possibility that he did kill Alana. Our relationship was on the outs, and I just wanted to move on with my life and forget all about Damien Silver. I thought I had done that until you showed up at the academy. Since we talked, it started to eat away at me. And I realized, I was no better than him if I didn't say something."

  "Thanks for coming forward. I'd like you to come down to the station and make an official statement."

  Harmony agreed.

  I called JD back and told him I would meet him at the Sheriff's Department. I grabbed my helmet and gloves and strolled to my bike.

  When Harmony arrived at the station, we escorted her to one of the interrogation rooms and she made a videotaped statement.

  I contacted the DA, and he agreed not to prosecute her in exchange for her testimony.

  Her statement didn't really prove anything. But it did create what I believed was reasonable doubt. The information may have been enough to get a stay of execution and possibly a dismissal of Colt’s case upon appeal.

  There were still major hurdles for Colt to overcome, and I can't say that I was absolutely convinced of his innocence. But the prosecution's case was beginning to unravel.

  34

  "Get down to Pirates’ Cove,” Daniels said, poking his head into the interrogation room after we had just finished taping Harmony Grant’s statement. "There's some kind of domestic situation, and a girl is claiming to know who is responsible for Grace Livingston's death."

  I exchanged a curious glance with JD.

  "The girl’s name is Kaylee. Apparently she got into a fight with her boyfriend, Isaac. He was getting abusive when some guys on a neighboring boat stepped in. She's with them now aboard the Tail Chaser."

  “That’s Grace Livingston’s friend,” I told Daniels.

  I thanked Harmony for her statement and asked Daniels to finish up with her.

  JD and I raced out of the station and hopped into his Porsche. It was still early enough to avoid the traffic, and we sped over to Pirates’ Cove.

  Jack screeched into the parking lot at the marina, and we jogged down the dock to the Tail Chaser. Kaylee sat on the gunwale in the cockpit, sobbing. She was with two guys, Bobby and Gavin.

  Gavin was a burly dude with pale skin and a curly red beard. A trucker cap sat atop his head.

  Bobby was slimmer, with brown hair and a muscular physique. They both looked like they could hold their own in a fight. They wore faded concert T-shirts with the sleeves cut off. Despite the early hour, Gavin and Bobby gripped light beers in their hands.

  JD flashed his badge as
we arrived at the transom.

  "Come on aboard," Gavin said with a southern accent.

  We scaled the transom as Kaylee wiped her eyes and composed herself.

  “What's going on?" I asked.

  "We were sitting in the cockpit, enjoying a little hair of the dog when we saw her boyfriend hit her,” Gavin said. “They were arguing on the dock. And that shit didn't fly with me. Bobby and I had to set the fella straight. He backed off, climbed aboard the Sun Kissed, and those two losers took off after that.”

  I looked down the dock at the empty slip where Owen’s boat had been.

  "Then she started talking about a murder, and we called you," Gavin said.

  "Tell me what happened and how this is connected to Grace Livingston," I asked Kaylee.

  She brushed the hair out of her face and wiped her eyes. "Isaac caught me with Owen."

  "Isaac is your boyfriend, right?"

  She nodded.

  "How long have you been cheating with Owen?"

  "I'm not a cheater!”

  "How long have you and Owen been… not cheating?”

  She flashed a sour look and shrugged. "I don't know. It's been brewing for a long time. We started sleeping with each other maybe three weeks ago?"

  The wheels turned in my mind. "So, Isaac walked in on you and Owen, but I'm guessing that's not the first time you got caught, is it?"

  She hesitated for a moment, “It was the first time Isaac caught us. But Grace found out a few days ago. That's why she left the boat."

  "So, you feel responsible for Grace's murder?" I asked.

  She shook her head. "No. I didn't have anything to do with that. I swear!"

  JD and I exchanged a curious glance.

  Kaylee continued. "Grace walked in on us. Then she and Owen got into a fight, and she stormed off. Isaac wasn’t there, and he didn't know anything about it until Grace came back the next day."

  "She came back to the boat the day after she caught you?” I asked. “The day she was murdered?”

  Tears welled in her eyes again and she nodded. "When Grace came back, she told Isaac everything, but he didn't believe her. We weren't there. Owen and I had gone to the store to get more beer and food. When we came back, Grace was dead, lying on the deck. Isaac had strangled her."

  My brow lifted with surprise. "Is Isaac left-handed?"

  Kaylee nodded. "Yeah, how did you know?"

  “Then what happened?"

  "I was totally freaked out. Owen was livid. He and Isaac got into a fight. They kinda beat the crap out of each other for a bit. Then Isaac said that Grace was going to go to the cops and that's why he had to kill her."

  "Why was Grace going to the cops?" I asked.

  Kaylee hesitated for a long moment. She sniffled, then said, “Because she was going to spill the beans about their plan.”

  "What plan?" I asked.

  "You have to promise I'm not gonna get in trouble if I tell you."

  "If you tell me everything, I'm sure we can work some type of immunity deal,” I said.

  “This is better than a damn TV show,” Gavin said with an amused grin. He grabbed another beer from a cooler and popped the top with a hiss.

  "The Chloe-C concert,” Kaylee said. “Owen and Isaac are planning to detonate a bomb in the crowd."

  That hung in the air.

  "What kind of bomb?" I asked.

  Kaylee shrugged. "I don't know. They've been stockpiling stuff for a long time. There are barrels and barrels of stuff below deck. I don’t know what it is. They’re planning on detonating the bomb during the concert, wiping out the audience."

  "Why?" I asked.

  Kaylee shrugged. "I don't know. I could never really make sense of it. Owen and Isaac are fighting some type of revolution in their minds. They despise everything Chloe-C stands for. Materialism and consumer culture. She made that political post, and that solidified things for Owen and Isaac. They think all of her fans are part of the problem. I don't really get into politics, but they're trying to make some kind of political statement."

  I called Sheriff Daniels and told him about the situation. "Notify the Coast Guard and put out a BOLO on the Sun Kissed. It shouldn't be too hard to find them. We know where they're going."

  Kaylee interrupted. "It's not the Sun Kissed anymore. They were planning on changing the name once they got out to sea. They have a big sticker they are going to place on the transom. They’ve already changed the name once when the stole the boat."

  It didn't surprise me that the boat was stolen. “Do you know what they are changing the name to?"

  Kaylee shrugged. "They never told me."

  I relayed the information to Sheriff Daniels. “Contact Homeland Security, ATF, and the FBI."

  "Way ahead of you," Daniels said.

  “And send the helicopter to pick us up at Pirates’ Cove. We need to get to Barracuda Key ASAP!”

  JD's concerned eyes found mine. After I hung up the phone with Sheriff Daniels, Jack said, "Scarlett's aboard Chloe's boat. She's already out at Barracuda Key Island.

  My stomach twisted with dread.

  35

  The dull patter of rotor blades sliced the air. The Bell 429 Global Ranger hovered in the air above the parking lot, pushing gale force winds in all directions, rustling leaves and bending trees. The white helicopter had green and yellow accents, and the logo of the Sheriff’s Department was emblazoned on the fuselage.

  Every time I heard the thump, thump, thump, of a helicopter it brought me back to my old SEAL days.

  We crouched low and ran toward the aircraft as the skids touched down on the asphalt. Jack pulled open the door, and we climbed in. The pilot lifted from the ground almost instantly, and the fuselage wobbled slightly, hanging from the rotors.

  I pulled a headset over my ears and shouted over the noise, “Get us to Barracuda Key as fast as possible!”

  The pilot ascended the craft and angled the nose sharply. The rotor blades pulled us forward, racing above the surface of the water, leaving the marina behind.

  The helicopter had one pilot and a passenger capacity of seven. Fully loaded, it had a max weight of 7,000 pounds. The four-blade helicopter had a cruising speed of 150 miles an hour, and a range of 390 nautical miles. This was the tactical response team’s chopper, and it could deploy a squad of heavily armed officers at a moment's notice.

  It didn't take long to reach Barracuda Key. A barge boat was home to the stage. A band played, cranking out rock 'n' roll. On either side of the stage, there were towering walls of speakers blasting music across the water, soaking the audience with sublime melodies that were loud enough to cause permanent hearing damage. A lighting grid overhead contained rows of spotlights that bathed the stage in colored lights.

  Thousands of boats were anchored in the shallows. Trying to find the Sun-Kissed, or whatever the hell it was called now, seemed impossible.

  Revelers partied on boats and in the water. The sandbar allowed people to wade around in waist-deep water, drifting from boat to boat. There was no way to evacuate the area in an orderly fashion. Announcing that there was a bomb in their midst would cause chaos, and likely result in deaths.

  Perhaps the best thing to do would be to announce that the concert was canceled due to technical issues, or some other unforeseen circumstance? Maybe announce that Chloe-C had lost her voice?

  That might cause the crowd to disband? But there were acts slated throughout the night and over the next several days. There were no guarantees that people would just up and move the party without being told the truth.

  I instructed the pilot to circle the area. With a pair of binoculars, I scanned the boats. People partied in cockpits and sunned themselves on sun-pads. They frolicked in the water, floated on rafts, and drank copious amounts of alcohol.

  I didn't know how long it would take for the FBI to respond. We had beaten them to the scene. They couldn’t be far behind.

  The pilot made concentric circles, narrowing our search field with eac
h pass. There was every type of boat imaginable on the water. Super-yachts, sport-fishing boats, wake boats, bass boats, personal watercraft, you name it. Many of the boats looked alike.

  Then I spotted something unusual.

  A boat that was the spitting image of Owen’s didn't have anyone partying in the cockpit. It didn't look like anyone was aboard. An unusual sight indeed.

  It was anchored amidst the sea of fiberglass hulls.

  I pointed to the boat and shouted over the roar of the engine, "Bring us closer!”

  The pilot pulled the cyclic, banking the helicopter around. Soon we were hovering above the sport-fishing boat.

  I was certain this was Owen's.

  I pulled open the door as we hovered over the vessel, the blurring rotor blades rippling the surface of the water below. I tossed out the thick black rope that was affixed to the mounting arm of the helicopter.

  "This is all you," JD said. "My shoulder is totally jacked."

  I rolled my eyes and pulled on a pair of gloves, then stepped out onto the ledge and grabbed the rope. I swung away from the helicopter and used my feet to slow me down as I slid down to the cockpit of the boat.

  I pulled off the gloves, tossed them to the deck, and drew my pistol. With my weapon in the firing position, I advanced to the hatch and carefully grabbed the handle.

  The hatch was locked.

  The windows were tinted, and it was hard to see inside the salon. I moved around to the side and noticed a sliding window was slightly ajar. I pulled it farther open and peered inside.

  There was a trip wire attached to an IED. The trigger was homemade from a wooden clothespin with a battery attached. It was wired to metal thumbtacks on the inside of the clothespin that served as contact points. An insulating pad placed between the contact points was attached to a string. When the door was opened, the string would pull out the insulating pad, and the contact points would touch, completing the circuit. The charge would detonate a primer, then the secondary charge. Anybody that opened the hatch would get a face full of blistering shrapnel.