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  I snorted. "Not any more than usual. Just a different sort of trouble." I sighed. "What other prospects do we have on the horizon?"

  "The TV deal is still on the table. I can rattle some cages."

  "It's all going to be a day late and a dollar short."

  "How much do you need, and when do you need it?"

  I told him and caught him up to speed on the pending sale.

  "Yeah, that's a problem." Joel thought for a moment. "Why don't you just make the offer, sign the contract, put up the earnest money, and buy yourself some time?"

  “You mean, just act like I have the funds and hope for the best?"

  "Why not? It will take the property off the market for at least 30 days. If you can't come up with the money, then the only thing you're out is the earnest money, which in this case would be substantial, but it will give you some breathing room. Of course, the seller could sue you for breach of contract. You know your sister better than I do. Do you think she would do that?"

  "At this point, I don't know exactly where her head is. She might.”

  “I don’t know the ins and outs of Florida law. You need to check with an attorney. But if she does sue you for breach of contract, she probably can't sell the property until the case is disposed. That could take months at the least. Maybe even a year. No seller wants to tie up a piece of property for a year that they're trying to move quickly. Especially if they need the cash. Besides, the attorney fees could run more than the earnest money. It's typically not worth it for the seller. It's kind of a dirty little trick, but…"

  I frowned. I didn't necessarily want to play dirty with Madison, but she had yanked the rug from underneath me. “Food for thought. I appreciate the advice."

  "Anytime,” Joel said. "Look, I'll set up a meeting with the studio. I'll tell Susan that you're excited about the new script."

  "I haven't read it yet."

  "It doesn't matter. Contractually, you've got casting input and script approval. It will be another opportunity to get in front of her and discuss the TV show. I think it's got potential, and we might be able to ask for big money up front."

  "When can you set up a meeting?"

  "I'll make a phone call right now. What’s your schedule like?"

  “I have a serial rapist and murderer to catch, but other than that, I might be able to find some time,” I said, flatly.

  "See, this is perfect timing! Susan will love to hear all about your escapades,” Joel said with excitement. "Oh, by the way, what was that explosion about yesterday? Was a threat made at the Chloe-C concert? I'm hearing a lot of conflicting reports, and the news is just making up stuff at this point."

  "There was an incident, let's just leave it at that. Which reminds me, Chloe told me she's looking for a new agent. May want to get on that."

  "Really?" Joel replied in a devious tone.

  "I've got her cell number if you need it."

  Joel scoffed. "I've got everyone’s cell phone number. But thank you."

  I chuckled.

  "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have a client to poach."

  "And a TV deal to secure,” I added.

  "Yes! I like your optimism."

  I hung up the phone and thought about Joel's advice. It was tempting, but I had to play fair with Madison. No matter what my feelings were about the property, she needed to take care of herself and do what was right for her burgeoning family. If that meant selling the property to Finley, so be it.

  I stepped to the aft deck and took a seat in the lounge and looked over the marina. I watched the revelers party on boats, listening to the jumble of music that spilled out of speakers and danced across the marina.

  Things were about to change.

  I tried to convince myself that change wasn't always a bad thing.

  39

  The pastel walls of the intermediate care unit took on a sinister tone. Maybe it was the hatred and rage in my eyes? The charge nurse had called and said that Esteban Rivera had regained consciousness. He was surprisingly alert and talkative, and was no longer on an assisted breathing device.

  I marched down the corridor, turned the corner, flashed my badge at the nurses’ station, and said that I needed a few minutes undisturbed.

  The charge nurse nodded, and I quietly slipped into Rivera's room. I closed the door behind me and approached the foot of the bed.

  Rivera's curious eyes surveyed me.

  He lay in the hospital bed, still bandaged and bruised, wearing a pastel blue gown. The monitor beside his bed blipped with his heartbeat and displayed his blood pressure and oxygen saturation. The once imposing man looked frail and weak with the covers pulled high around him. “Who are you?”

  I flashed my gold badge, then slipped it back into my pocket.

  "I don't think you'll catch who did this," Rivera said. "I don't remember a thing."

  "What’s the last thing you remember?"

  He paused for a moment, deep in thought. "My last recollection is landing at the airport and taking a cab to my hotel. Everything after that is a blank. Then I woke up here."

  "So your memory is fine before that?"

  "I believe so."

  "Then you'll have no problem answering my questions."

  "I'm not sure how anything before a few weeks ago will help you solve this crime?"

  "I'm not interested in solving this crime," I said.

  His gaze grew even more curious.

  "I'm interested in solving another crime from several years ago."

  "I'm not sure how I could help?"

  I moved to the side of the bed and placed my hands on the railing. "I know all about your former business.”

  “My former business?” he asked. “Which one? My real estate business? My car dealership? My restaurant?”

  “Your import export business. The one where you smuggled in thousands of kilos of cocaine. The one where you killed hundreds of innocent people.”

  “I’m afraid you have me confused with someone else,” he said.

  I shook my head. “No. I have the right man."

  Rivera shifted uncomfortably.

  I glared at the man with pure hatred.

  He could sense my ill intent. He fumbled for the nurses call button.

  I drew my pistol and stuck the barrel against his head and wrapped my finger around the trigger. "We're going to have a private conversation. Just the two of us. You don't need to call the nurse."

  His grip on the call button went slack.

  "You wouldn't shoot a sick man in the head, would you?"

  It took everything I had not to pull the trigger.

  "You'd be a fool to kill me right here. You’d spend the rest of your life in a jail cell. Something tells me that a man such as yourself wouldn't enjoy that much."

  "Tell me about Tim and Ellen Wild."

  There was a faint spark of recognition in his eyes, then the spark vanished, and his bruised face crinkled dismissively. "I don't know who you're talking about?"

  I pushed the barrel of my pistol harder against his temple, mashing the bruised skin. It had to hurt.

  Rivera winced.

  "Yes you do," I insisted.

  "I'm sorry, but I don't know who those people are."

  "I'm giving you an opportunity here. You're smart enough to realize that. I'm not going to put a bullet in your head right now.” I pulled the gun away from his temple and holstered it. “But know this, if you don't tell me what I want to know, you're a dead man, one way or another."

  "Is this how they do things in Coconut Key? Are you following departmental protocol?"

  "I'm following my protocol. Start talking."

  Rivera was silent for a long moment. His eyes stared into mine, and there was no mistaking my resolve. I would hold to my word, and Rivera knew it.

  "Why did you have them killed?" I asked.

  There was another long silence.

  Finally, Rivera said, “I don’t think you know these people as well as you think you do.” />
  “I know them pretty damn well,” I growled.

  He shrugged. "Sometimes we know the least about the people closest to us. They keep the darkest secrets."

  The muscles in my jaw flexed, and my teeth ground together. "I'm tired of riddles. I want the truth. If I'm not going to get that from you, I might as well just kill you."

  "If you think that will bring you satisfaction, then by all means, go ahead."

  I scowled at the man.

  A nurse pushed into the room. "Is everything alright in here?"

  I forced a smile. "We're fine. I just need a few more minutes."

  "Mr. Rivera," the nurse asked, "do you feel up to talking, or have you had enough?"

  40

  "No," Rivera said. "I'm okay. I'm actually enjoying the company."

  In a weird, twisted sort of way, I think he was enjoying this.

  “Okay. Let us know if you need anything,” the nurse said as she backed out of the room.

  Rivera smiled at the nurse, then returned his gaze to me. “I will tell you what you want to know. But are you sure you want to hear it?"

  "I want the truth."

  “And what will you do when you learn this truth? Will you make good on your threat to kill me? Will you arrest me?”

  I shook my head, though I wasn’t sure what I would do. “I just want to know.”

  He scoffed, then let out a resigned sigh. “If I recall correctly, your parents were having financial difficulty. The business was in a slump. The bank was going to foreclose on the property. The marina was in disrepair. They were underinsured, and renovations from storm damage had cost a considerable amount. I presented them with a business opportunity."

  My cheeks flushed, and my blood boiled. "Bullshit!"

  "Think whatever you wish, Deputy Wild, but I speak the truth. The restaurant and the marina provided a perfect opportunity to launder money. I had excess cash. It was a win-win scenario. They turned the business around, paid off their debts, even bought a new boat."

  My hands balled into fists, and I tried to contain my trembling. My heart pounded in my chest. Through gritted teeth, I growled. "You're lying!"

  Esteban shrugged. "I have no reason to lie. I'll take you at your word that you will hunt me down and kill me. In all likelihood, I'm a dead man already. You clearly aren't the only one who would like to see me in the ground."

  I took a deep breath, then exhaled. I tried to process everything in my brain, putting the puzzle pieces together. I recalled my parents’ actions during the time. Was it really possible? I remember them going through difficult times. Then the business took off. Toward the end, my father was making more money than he ever had before in his life.

  I had that sick feeling in my stomach that maybe Esteban was telling the truth. Maybe I had known it all along, deep down inside, and didn't want to admit it?

  "So why did you kill them?" I asked.

  "Simple really. They stole from me. They got greedy. It happens. In my line of work, you must take swift and decisive action. You must never show weakness. And you must show thieves no mercy."

  The veins in my neck bulged, and my face swelled. My skin must have been beet red.

  I placed the palm of my hand on the grip of my pistol, ready to draw it and put a bullet in the dirtbag’s brain.

  Rivera smiled. "Go ahead, Deputy Wild. Shoot me. Right here. Make a spectacle. I will go out knowing that you will spend the rest of your life behind bars. I find that a tad ironic, don’t you?"

  I wanted to scream and cry and beat him with my bare fists until his face was even more mangled. Then I wanted to empty the entire magazine into his body. I wanted to watch volcanoes of blood spew from bullet holes in his chest.

  Then I wanted to spit on his corpse.

  All of that flashed through my brain like the trailer for an action movie. Moments of the past intercut with my violent fantasy. Clips of my parents from a simpler time. Their smiling faces at birthday parties and holidays. Opening Christmas presents, playing golf with my dad, fishing, sailing, helping my mother in the kitchen.

  The images in my brain cut together faster and faster.

  My heart pounded.

  The temperature in the room rose, and a thin mist of nervous sweat covered my body.

  The movie reel in my head switched to images of the courtroom, the trial, the cramped cell on death row, the lethal injection that would end my life. Then the blackness, the eternal falling, the searing flesh, the pain and torture of hell that I had already experienced once.

  All of those thoughts and emotions surged to create an overwhelming sensation within me.

  In front of me was the man who took away my world. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of doing that again.

  I removed my hand from the grip of my pistol, stepped away from the bed and walked out of the room. I strolled past the nurses’ station and thanked the charge nurse for contacting me.

  As I walked toward the bank of elevators, a huge weight lifted from me, and the suffocating feeling that had tightened around my throat evaporated.

  One way or another, Esteban would get what was coming to him. I didn't need to lift a finger. I was confident that fate would take care of things on its own.

  41

  "He's full of shit," JD said.

  I had stopped by his house to see Scarlett before she left for Los Angeles. Jack was about to take her to the airport.

  “I don't know,” I replied.

  "Don't tell me you bought into his nonsense. He's just trying to get into your head."

  “Well, he got there."

  “You should have shot him," JD said.

  "I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction."

  "Shit, I’ll go over there and put a pillow over his head."

  "I've moved on."

  "Have you?"

  "Yep. That scumbag is not worth another moment of my time."

  "If you say so," Jack said, his voice full of skepticism.

  "I'm proud of you," Scarlett said. "Negative people don't deserve our time or attention."

  “Tell me you arrested him?” JD asked.

  “No. He’ll deny the confession, anyway. I’m not worried about it. Something tells me he’s not going to last two seconds out on the streets. Somebody will finish the job they started.”

  Scarlett gave me a hug and kissed me on the cheek. "I'm gonna miss you guys both so much!”

  "Stop lying," JD said.

  “Aw, you know I love you, Jack." She gave him a hug and squeezed him tight. When she broke free she said, “Wish me luck?"

  "You got this,” I said.

  Scarlett crossed her fingers, then grabbed her roller case.

  I pulled open the door for her, and Jack stuffed the suitcase in the small trunk at the front of the Porsche.

  "Safe journey," I said.

  Scarlett climbed into the passenger seat of the lizard-green speedster.

  "I'll come over after I drop her off,” JD said. “See what kind of trouble we can get into this evening.”

  I chuckled and climbed on my bike as he hopped into the Porsche. He cranked up the engine, and Scarlett waved as they peeled out of the driveway, her blonde hair fluttering in the breeze.

  I cranked up the bike and twisted the throttle, revving it a few times. I pulled on my helmet and gloves and zipped back to Diver Down.

  I found a place to park, then strolled inside and took a seat at the bar. I ordered a beer and a cheeseburger and took in the atmosphere.

  The place was crowded, and Teagan and Alejandro handled the onslaught well.

  I glanced at my watch—it was almost 5 o'clock. The close of business.

  There was an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Had the place really been paid for with drug money? Maybe it needed to be torn down and rebuilt? Something new to replace the old?

  I didn't know what to believe.

  I sipped my beer and let it all go. There was nothing I could do about it. I planned on embracing the present and the
future. The past didn't exist, and change was always inevitable.

  Whatever happened, happened.

  My phone buzzed again, and a frantic Finley shouted through the speaker. "Did you put a contract on the property?"

  "No." I looked at my watch again. "Time’s up. It's all yours."

  "No it's not," she said.

  My brow crinkled with confusion. "What do you mean?"

  Madison called and said she was sorry, but she would have to decline my offer. She had an offer from a person who wished to remain anonymous, and she accepted. The place is already under contract, and the buyer has put down earnest money."

  "What!?" I shrieked, incredulous.

  "Are you sure you're not the anonymous buyer?"

  "I swear. It's not me."

  "Then who is it?"

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  Author’s Note

  Thanks for all the great reviews!

  I’ve got more adventures for Tyson and JD. Stay tuned.

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  Thanks for reading!

  —Tripp

  Tyson Wild

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