Wild Surge Read online

  I returned to the parking lot, clicked the alarm, and the lights of the van flashed. We slid open the cargo door, and the forensics team went to work.

  Charlie Knox had converted the cargo area into a nice tiny-home. At the back of the van, there was a single bed that ran across the width of the vehicle. In the midsection of the cargo area was a kitchenette with a two-burner propane stove, a mini-refrigerator, a microwave, and latched cabinets. The solar panel on the roof provided extra power. At the rear of the van, the double doors opened into a storage area for clothes and various items. In the main cabin, there was a guitar with a small practice amp. Just the basic essentials. Everything was neat and well maintained.

  The forensics guys collected samples from the seats and carpet. They took the bedsheets. We found nylon rope, duct tape, a jug of bleach, and several hunting knives.

  Luminol spray didn't reveal any bloodstains in the vehicle.

  There was a laminate wood floor in the van that could have easily been washed with bleach, destroying any trace evidence. After we completed the search, the forensics guys took the evidence to the lab, and I returned the keys to Charlie Knox.

  "Find anything interesting?" he asked.

  "I guess we'll see," I said.

  "Did you at least lock the van and set the alarm?" Charlie asked. "I don't want to get off shift at 2:30 AM and find out I'm homeless."

  "We left it just like we found it," I assured.

  I left Hammerhead, and JD drove me back to the marina at Diver Down.

  "He could have tied these girls up, abused them, strangled them in his van, then driven to the water and dumped them," JD said as we drove.

  "All the bodies were washed with bleach before being dumped into the water," I said.

  "He could have done it in the van. I don't want to get too specific about how he could have flushed certain areas, but a resourceful guy like that could do the job in a small space like that."

  "Well, depending upon what the lab comes back with, we'll bring him in for questioning and see what we can squeeze out of him."

  JD pulled into the parking lot at the marina, and I hopped out.

  "By the way, we've got a charter in the morning," JD said.

  "What!?"

  "Just make sure you clear out any visitors before our guests arrive."

  "Who's chartering the boat?"

  JD grinned, "You'll see."

  "Thanks for telling me."

  "I'm telling you. Look, relax. They're paying us four times our normal rate. It's just for a day. I set it up when you were in the containment facility. I didn't want to burden you with anything additional at the time. Don't worry. It will be fun."

  Jack dropped the car into gear and sped away before we could debate the subject further.

  I strolled down the dock toward the Vivere. There was just a sliver of a waxing moon in the sky, and the inky water lapped against the white fiberglass hulls of the boats in their slips. I crossed the gangway of the super-yacht and stepped into the salon.

  Buddy rushed to greet me, and Fluffy, the aloof white cat, lounged on the settee, wagging her tail. I leashed Buddy up and took him out for a bit. On the walk, I got a call from my agent in Los Angeles, Joel.

  "Good news," he said.

  That grabbed my attention.

  15

  "David Cameron is out of his coma," Joel said.

  "That's fantastic news!" I replied.

  "They say he should make a full recovery. I don't know what that means moving forward with either of the projects, but I thought you'd like to know."

  "Thanks for keeping me in the loop."

  "I'm planning on visiting him tomorrow," Joel said.

  "Please send him my best, and my wishes for a speedy recovery."

  "Will do." Joel paused. "Everything is really up in the air right now regarding the TV series. Because of David's situation, the studio hasn't committed yet. We can take the project and shop it to different networks and the streaming giants. It's totally your call."

  Joel knew I needed a fast payday. David Cameron had been slated to direct the Bree Taylor project, and I was due a $2 million payout the moment it went into production. With David's accident, all of that was on indefinite hold. His desire to produce the TV series based on our adventures was in limbo as well. No paperwork had been signed, and no money exchanged. I was free to take the project anywhere. I thought about it for a long moment. "No. Let's sit back and see what develops."

  "No problem. I'll keep you posted."

  As I walked back to the Vivere, I thought about my options. Things were getting tight, and I was running out of time. I would need to convince Jack to sell the boat. We had gone in on it together, and I figured my share of the profits would be enough to cover my upfront payment to Madison. I would worry about coming up with the rest of the money later. I knew Jack wouldn't be thrilled about the idea. He loved the boat. So did I. The only reason he'd want to sell it would be to get a bigger one.

  As far as Jack was concerned, there was always better. A newer, bigger toy.

  I had to admit, I was spoiled by the luxury. But was it a necessity? Not really. I figured we'd have a hard talk in the morning.

  I settled in for the night, tossing and turning with too many things weighing on my mind.

  The morning sun blasted through the portholes. I stretched, yawned, and pried my eyes open. I took a shower, got dressed, scarfed down breakfast, and prepared for our charter.

  I took Buddy and Fluffy to Diver Down and spiraled up the back stairs to the loft that had been Madison's. It still had all of her belongings, except a few articles of clothing she'd packed before she left. As it stood, she wasn't planning on coming back. I don't know if she had made that decision before she left, but I figured it had been bouncing around in the back of her mind.

  She didn't tell me much about her current situation. I knew she was in Colorado, but I didn't know where she was living, or what she was doing. She did mention she met a guy, and things were going well. Because of the danger associated with my line of work, she wanted to remain as far away from me as possible, especially with a child on the way. I couldn't blame her. She kept the details of her new life to a minimum, and the less I knew, the better.

  You can't get through life as a clandestine operative and not make enemies. There were people out there that wanted me dead. There was no doubt about it. And working as a deputy, I had made my fair share of enemies. Most of them were either dead or behind bars.

  I figured the loft would be a good place for the animals to spend the day. I made a second trip to the Vivere to collect their food bowls, toys, and accessories. Then I made another trip for the kitty litter. I left them in the loft and asked Teagan to look in on them during the day while we were out with our charter clients.

  I left Diver Down and headed back toward the Vivere. A semi-truck had pulled into the parking lot with a pristine white trailer. Crew members were unloading movie lights and stands. They rolled cases of equipment down the dock toward the yacht. They carried scrims, flags, diffusers, and gels—everything you would need to light a movie set. Production managers scurried about with walkie-talkies, coordinating the show. Several Star-Wagons had pulled into the parking lot. They were trailers for movie stars and on-camera talent.

  JD stood on the dock with a wide grin, speaking with a man and woman. He introduced us as I arrived. "This is Penelope Craig and Sam Mason."

  We shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. I recognized the names. Penelope was a big-time producer in Hollywood, and Sam had directed a number of successful action movies.

  "What's the show?" I asked.

  Sam had shaggy brown hair, a square face, and ultra-white teeth. He'd been on a few TV shows before he moved into directing. Penelope had shoulder-length brown hair, brown eyes, and and red, full lips.

  "I'm moonlighting," Sam said. "This is a commercial shoot for Färber timepieces. The epitome of luxury. For the man who has everything. It should be a simple,
straightforward shoot. We need to get shots in the alfresco dining area, lounging on sun-pads, at the helm… that kind of stuff. We need to show the watch is at home in a business suit or on vacation. Rugged enough to withstand the elements."

  "Sounds good to me," JD said.

  "This is a really great boat," Sam said, surveying the vessel. "Thanks for letting us use it. I promise we'll leave it in the same condition we found it."

  "How long will you be shooting for?" I asked.

  "A day, but you know how things are. We might have a little spillover. I hope that's not a problem?"

  "No problem at all," JD said. "Take as many days as you need."

  Both Sam and Penelope smiled.

  Sam grew solemn. "Tragic what happened to David Cameron. I'm glad his condition has improved."

  "News travels fast, doesn't it," I said.

  "There are no secrets in Hollywood," Sam said. "Speaking of… I hear rumors about a TV series. It sounds right up my alley. I know you've been in talks with David, but the future is uncertain. You know what they say in Hollywood, you're only as good as your next production, so I'm looking to firm up my plans after I finish this commercial. I thought maybe you and I might be able to talk after we wrap today."

  Penelope chimed in. "I feel confident I can set up a deal with another studio that is willing to commit and move forward."

  I was silent for a moment. "Food for thought."

  They both smiled.

  "Great," Sam said. "We'll talk more later."

  I stood on the dock with JD as the producer and director boarded the boat, and the crew loaded in the gear.

  "What do you think?" JD asked. "Not a bad gig. They're gonna pay us a ton of money, and we don't really have to do anything except drive the boat where they tell us to."

  I griped, “So, not only do we have a murder to solve, a terrorist plot to stop, we now have to babysit a film crew?”

  Jack's face twisted. "You're the one who needs cash. I thought this might be a good networking opportunity, and it appears it is. Excuse me for looking out for you."

  16

  JD nudged his elbows into my ribs and grinned. He nodded at the talent strutting down the dock. Five gorgeous ladies in elegant bikinis sauntered toward us.

  Their bodies were firm and toned, and their skin glistened with moisturizer. Flawless makeup accentuated their naturally perfect bone structure.

  "Right this way, ladies," Jack said with a smile, escorting them across the gangway.

  A male model followed behind them. He was in his early 40s with dark hair, just starting to gray at the temples. He had a square jaw, ice-blue eyes, and the physique of an underwear model. His hair was quaffed to perfection. He wore white linen shorts, deck shoes, and a cotton sky-blue short sleeve button down. The wardrobe had been provided by the stylist. There wasn't a wrinkle in the outfit. He looked like he stepped out of a cologne ad. The Färber watch hugged his wrist and sparkled in the sunlight. He extended a hand and introduced himself. "I'm Drake."

  "Seems like you've got an enviable job," JD said.

  He grinned. "It's a good gig. If only I was as rich as the character I play." His eyes surveyed the yacht. "Nice boat. Maybe you should be wearing this watch instead of me," he joked.

  "I don't think I'd sell as many watches as you would," JD said.

  Drake laughed, then boarded the boat.

  Once the crew had loaded all the gear aboard, we disconnected water and power, cast off the lines, and idled out of the marina. We spent the rest of the day on the water, watching the crew film the gorgeous models doting on the rich billionaire who owned the yacht, wearing the ultimate watch.

  We took the crew out near Angelfish Key island. That was our go-to location. It was perfect for tropical beach scenes. And though the storyboards didn't call for such a scene, I thought it might be good to have on hand.

  JD and I had shot a few low-budget commercials ourselves, and I found that I enjoyed the process of directing. I may have grumbled a bit about JD setting up the charter, but I was fascinated to watch the production firsthand. Almost the entire commercial was made up of slow-motion shots. Close-ups of the watch. Full-length pans up the curvaceous bodies of the models. Popping the cork on a bottle of champagne as foamy suds spurted. Laughing and socializing in the alfresco dining area. Drake at the helm of the yacht. Romantic interludes at the bow.

  A high-end drone with a 6K camera and a gimbal stabilizer filmed sweeping aerials of the yacht plowing through the water while we hid below deck. At my suggestion, at the end of the day, we took the tender to the beach and grabbed a few quick shots of Drake frolicking in the water with the models. The implication of the commercial was that if you bought the watch, it would open the door to this lifestyle.

  The truth was, if you didn't already have this lifestyle, you had no business spending that much money on a watch.

  I had to admit spending the day on the water, watching the production, was a nice break from the stress that had enveloped me in recent days.

  Jack took the helm on the way back to Coconut Key, and Sam took the opportunity to talk to me about his vision for the TV series. "You realize I could have shot this commercial anywhere? I could have hired any number of yachts. I specifically chose this one because I wanted to get to know you a little better."

  I could already tell the sales pitch was coming.

  "I wanted you to see how I worked, and I wanted to see if there was any chemistry between us."

  "This isn't a date," I said.

  He chuckled. "Make no mistake, filmmaking is a collaborative process. It's a relationship. It's like being in a band or playing on a sports team. The creative product is the sex. It's what draws people together. But you have to have the logistical capacity to keep the relationship functional. It's just like a marriage. Attraction is what draws you together, but at some point you become co-managers in a family corporation."

  "I'm single for a reason," I said.

  He chuckled again. "I'll cut to the chase. If you can't tell, I'm intrigued by the idea of your series. I think it could be a hit. Obviously, if David Cameron was interested in it, it has potential. I like you and JD. You seem like good people. And the stories I've heard, my God! It's insane! Chloe-C tells me great things about you."

  "You know Chloe?" I asked.

  "I do. And if you need a reference, feel free to talk to her about me. I will admit, I don't carry the industry clout of David Cameron. But I have had a slew of successful box office hits myself. My total box office grosses are over $1 billion. I don't say that to brag, but just so you know where I'm coming from."

  "I'm gonna be upfront with you. I have a relationship with Susan and David. Despite some initial turbulence, we have a good relationship, and I am extremely loyal to the people who do right by me."

  "I totally understand," Sam said. "And I admire that. Loyalty is a rare quality these days."

  "The studio has also offered me certain aspects of control," I said.

  "Absolutely. Any deal we would arrange for you would have to meet or exceed your current offer."

  "Those are big promises."

  "Look, Penelope has been my producing partner on my last five feature films and every commercial I've done during that timeframe. She's wonderful. She gets the job done, and there's no bullshit with her. She has a relationship with every major studio, and I feel quite confident we could find a home for the TV series. And of course, we would make sure that you are adequately compensated. Just so you know, I have no problem filming it here so it could be under your supervision."

  His offer was intriguing. "I'll need to think about this."

  "I understand. I'd worry about you if you didn't." He smiled and extended his hand. "Either way, today was a pleasure. Thank you for letting us aboard your boat. I hope we can do business in the future."

  We shook hands.

  “If you’re interested, just have your agent contact my agent, and we'll see what we can put together."

&
nbsp; I liked Sam. He seemed like a good guy. And he was offering to shop around a project that, quite frankly, might be dead in the water otherwise.

  17

  "Say thank you," JD said as I approached him at the helm of the flybridge.

  The wind blew across the deck as we plowed through the water, heading back to Coconut Key. The sun had dipped down on the horizon, and the sky was a deep purplish-gray.

  "What for?" I asked.

  JD craned his neck over his shoulder and looked back at two giggling models leaning against the railing at the aft sundeck. "Londyn and Summer. They're having dinner with us tonight."

  He flashed a brilliant smile.

  I glanced back at the gorgeous ladies whose assets were on full display as they leaned against the railing. They whispered amongst themselves and stole quick, flirty glances at us.

  "Londyn is the blonde. Summer is the brunette," JD said. "Why don't you keep those girls entertained?"

  I happily obliged and marched across the deck. I leaned against the railing beside the models. "Nice work today, ladies."

  They smiled.

  "Thank you," Londyn said. "We really didn't do much."

  "Lounging around looking pretty is hard work. Don't sell yourself short."

  I got a playfully sour look for that one.

  "It is hard work, I'll have you know," Londyn said. "A model's job is 24/7. She has to eat right, workout, take care of her skin, her hair, her sanity."

  I raised my hands innocently. "Okay, okay, I surrender."

  A smirk curled on her plump lips. "I'm just saying, most of a model's work is done off-camera."

  "And I see that you do a lot of work off-camera."

  She gave me a sassy look.

  "We are in from Los Angeles," Summer said. "JD says you're going to take us out and show us a good time."

  "We are experts at having a good time," I assured.

  Londyn smiled at me. "Good to know I'll be in capable hands."

  "Yes, you will," I said, replying to her loaded statement.