NO OTHER WAY (Harry Hunter Mystery Book 3) Page 12

  What did she want?

  Jean felt her eyes fill again. She had been crying so much this past week; it was amazing there was any tears left. The phone went dead again at least for a few seconds before it lit up once more. Her sister always tried twice. In case Jean had been too far from the phone on the first try and not made it in time. Anna liked giving people second chances.

  Darkness was settling upon her small street outside now as the day was about to end—yet another day where she had done absolutely nothing and made no decision. She had received an email the day before from a nursing home in Savannah. They wanted to see her for an interview next week. There was a number she was supposed to call and say if she’d be able to make it. Jean hadn’t called that number yet.

  Now, it was too late. At least for today. She’d call tomorrow. Probably.

  Jean took her phone in her hand, then found Harry’s number and stared at it. She called it, thinking she needed to talk to him; she had to know what his plans were. But he didn’t pick up, as usual, and she heard his voicemail begin, then hung up.

  Jean walked to the sink and put her coffee cup in it, then looked at Harry’s house next door. They hadn’t been there all week, and the technicians had been working over there every day, their many cars blocking the street. Except for today. Today, Harry’s house had been completely quiet. Jean wondered if they were finally finished. She had no idea this type of work took this long. On TV, they always made it look like it took a few hours, and then they had the case all figured out. But it was the same with series taking place in ERs. It always seemed so simple, yet being a nurse required so much more from you. Sometimes, you were holding the hand of someone about to die; other times, you were assisting in childbirth. It was all aspects of life. And she loved that. She loved not knowing what the day would bring when she got there. It was going to be very different, working at a nursing home, where the patients were all the same till they passed away.

  It’ll be steady. Steady is good for you right now.

  That’s what her sister would say, at least.

  Jean sighed. She had hoped that Harry would move back soon, but she couldn’t blame him if he never wanted to. The house was a mess after what happened. The porch and the wood on the outside were completely destroyed; several windows were shattered too. It looked like something out of a war movie.

  He’s never coming back, is he? Nothing will ever be like it was.

  No, he needs to move on too, just like you.

  Jean looked at the suitcase again, then decided it was time to go. She didn’t have to wait until the next morning. She could drive all night and make it there early. Determined finally to do it, she grabbed her phone, and was about to call her sister back, then put the phone in her pocket, when suddenly she heard a noise coming from the back. She walked closer to the door as the screen door slammed shut.

  “Hello?”

  The feeling of the cold gun against her temple made her shiver. She turned to look at the man holding the gun, then gasped. She knew those eyes staring down at her from the many barbecues at Harry’s house, even though he looked different, stirred up, frightened even.

  “F-Fowler?”

  “That’s right, my dear. I need you to come with me.”

  “W-why?” Jean asked. She spoke while fiddling with the phone in her pocket, frantically tapping the display, hoping to call someone, any number. As Fowler pulled her arm, forcefully, her hand slipped out of the pocket again.

  “Because you matter to him. He cares about you.”

  Chapter 43

  I felt devastated. I had failed. I should have known Fowler would try to run. I thought he was smarter than that, knowing that most criminals that ran ended up in the morgue. But apparently not. Apparently, he thought he could be the one to break the statistics.

  The fool.

  I had no idea where he was, where he had run to. We had searched the canals behind his house that led to the river for hours and hours. We had the marine patrol alerted, searching all the waterways; the FBI had put a helicopter in the air and dogs on the ground. And yet we still hadn’t found him. We thought we had, on several occasions, when stopping a boat similar to his, but it wasn’t him.

  Now, as darkness had fallen, we were lost. He could have gotten to Key West by now if he wanted to, or the Bahamas if he made it out on the open waters. I had this feeling that he hadn’t gotten that far, that he would stay close. But that was just a feeling.

  I sat at the docks, staring out at the Intracoastal waters, while the marine patrol officers packed up their gear. I had been out on their boat all day and felt like the ground was still moving beneath my feet. My face had gotten sunburned, and I was very tired. I was thinking about Josie and getting home to her at my dad’s place when the phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, and immediately, my heart sank.

  It was Jean.

  I hadn’t heard from her in more than a week, ever since that day at her house, when I realized she was going to leave. I hadn’t called her since I wanted to give her space. If she wanted to start over somewhere else, then so be it. There really wasn’t much I could do about it. I had refrained from thinking about her all this time, well almost, as much as I was able to. But I was pretty sure she was in Savannah, and I didn’t really want to talk to her right now. I let the voice mail answer it. Once she had hung up, I could see she had called more than once. I stared at the name on the display, a deep sadness washing over me.

  Had I been wrong in giving her space? Hadn’t I fought enough for her? Did she want me to?

  I bit my cheek, contemplating this, when the voicemail showed up on the display, letting me know she had left a message. It took me a few seconds before I finally decided I wanted to hear it, and I pressed the screen.

  At first, I thought it was a mistake. That she had probably just butt-dialed me since there was no voice, no one saying anything. Except, when I listened closer, I could hear a voice, one that made my blood run cold.

  It was Fowler. Fowler telling her to move, while Jean whimpered and pleaded for him to let her go.

  I stopped breathing while listening to this.

  As the message ended, I replayed it, this time listening even closer. There was something there, a sound that I recognized. The sound of a gate slamming shut that I knew a little too well.

  It was the gate to our neighborhood dock. It was located at the end of our street, and if you paid a monthly fee, you could keep your boat there. I kept a couple of kayaks in the shed down there, which I often took Josie out in, especially when she was younger. I knew the sound of that gate slamming because it always did so with such force that I feared it would crush Josie’s small fingers.

  “He’s still here,” I said and leaped to my feet. I looked at the marine patrol officer, Officer Bryant, who was packing up.

  “I know where he is,” I said. “Were gonna need to go back out.”

  Chapter 44

  It was hard to see anything in the darkness. The light from the marine patrol cruiser only reached a limited space out in the deep dark waters after the sun had set completely.

  I had asked them to take me to our dock behind our neighborhood. Of course, Fowler was no longer there, but it was the last place I knew he had been, about half an hour or so earlier.

  You could get pretty far away in half an hour in a boat, especially when hugged by darkness.

  Where are you, Fowler? What have you done to Jean?

  I cursed myself as I told them to try and go down the river. Why hadn’t I reacted faster? Why hadn’t I been better prepared for my meeting with him? I had let my feelings run away with me, let them blind me. I was angry, furious. I had felt betrayed, and it made me not think straight.

  And now, Jean’s life was in danger.

  Why are you such an idiot!

  I was surprised that Jean hadn’t left since I had thought she’d be in Savannah by now, starting her new life. But Fowler had to have known that she was still there somehow, o
r maybe he had just taken the chance.

  He knew my weak spot, my Achilles heel.

  “It’s almost impossible to find anything out here at this time,” Officer Bryant said.

  “Just keep looking,” I said. “We can’t give up now.”

  The guy shook his head, then sighed. “As you wish.”

  My heart was throbbing in my chest as I worried about Jean alone with Fowler. What was his plan with her? To keep her with him as collateral to make sure I wouldn’t harm him? Or did he want to hurt her to get back at me? Just how desperate was he?

  I didn’t know.

  I stared down at my phone when it finally rang—unknown number.

  “Al, talk to me.”

  “I traced her phone,” she said.

  A wave of relief washed over me, and my shoulders came down slightly. I was so scared for Jean; it was unbearable.

  “And?”

  “I’ve got her on my screen now. They’re heading north of the Intracoastal waterways.”

  “North?” I said. That was a surprise. I was so sure he’d try and go south, getting out into the ocean and maybe heading for the Bahamas. But, of course, he knew I’d think that, and that was why he was going in the other direction. This way, he could make it up to central Florida if he sailed all night, and disappear somewhere up there, while we searched the waters south of us and maybe even went to the Bahamas.

  “Yes,” she said. “He’s not far from Bay Harbor Islands.”

  I signaled to the marine patrol officer to turn around, and he did. He made a huge turn, then sped up. I kept Al on the phone as we raced across the water, the warm moist air hitting my sunburned face, wiping away the few tears that escaped my eyes, tears of worry and fear.

  If anything happened to Jean, I would never forgive myself.

  Chapter 45

  She was lying at the bottom of the boat. He had tied her hands behind her back. Luckily, he hadn’t been smart enough to search her, and Jean prayed that they could trace her phone somehow, that someone knew she had been taken—hopefully Harry—and that they could use her phone to trace her.

  But the chances were slim. She knew this much. Harry probably thought Jean had left for Savannah a week ago, so he wouldn’t even be over to check on her. He would have seen that she had called, though. He would know something was up, wouldn’t he?

  Oh, Harry, I need your help now.

  It was dark out, and Jean had no way of seeing where they were going. Water splashed down on her, raining on her face and hair. She was getting tired of the bumping. She kept knocking her head and shoulder hard against the deck every time.

  Where are we going? What’s he going to do with me?

  Fear rushed through her, and she groaned behind the gag. Fowler towered above her by the wheel, wind blowing in his hair as he rushed the boat across the choppy waters. Jean whimpered worriedly. They had been going at it for at least an hour. Where could he be taking her? Were they going north or south?

  She didn’t even know.

  Jean tried to fight the strips around her wrists. They were cutting deep into her skin and hurt like crazy. She kicked her legs and screamed behind the gag, but couldn’t even hear herself over the roaring engine and the sound of the boat hitting the water. It didn’t matter how much she screamed; Fowler couldn’t even hear her.

  But as she kicked her legs, her right foot hit something. She looked down and saw a stack of life jackets. She had kicked them, and now they had fallen and revealed something that was hidden beneath them, something Fowler hadn’t realized was there, almost within her reach.

  Jean’s eyes grew wide as she looked again. She lifted her glance and glared at Fowler to make sure he hadn’t seen what she was up to. He was deep into his world, steering the boat along, and didn’t even notice her.

  Jean wormed down toward it, slowly, her eyes steady on him, making sure he didn’t suddenly turn his head and look down at her. But he was busy and, in the distance, Jean could hear the sound of another engine. Another boat was there, closing in on them.

  She’d have to signal them somehow, she thought, then wormed downward. Once close enough, she stuck her foot inside one of the life jackets, then lifted it slowly into the air. She paused when she thought Fowler was about to look down at her and figure out what she was up to, but he only looked behind him, then yelled.

  “Crap!”

  Jean swallowed as he made a sharp turn, and she realized someone was following them, but Fowler was trying to lose them in the darkness. She lifted the life jacket and slid it up against the side, then let it dump into the water.

  With a small gasp, she looked up to see if he noticed, but he was too busy looking behind him to even think about her.

  So, she stuck her foot into the second life jacket, then slipped that one overboard as well.

  Chapter 46

  “I think we lost him,” Officer Bryant said. “I can’t see him anywhere.”

  I stared into the darkness, which felt like an abyss. We had been so close. We had followed Al’s directions and caught up to a boat that had no lights on. But the boat had spotted us too early and made a sharp turn. Now, it seemed to be gone. I could hear the engine in the distance but couldn’t figure out which way it was going. Could he have gone into one of the canals? It would be impossible for us to find out which one if he did.

  I put the binoculars close to my eyes and tried to look again, but was met with nothing but darkness until there was something else. Something was bobbing up and down on the surface of the water.

  “I see something,” I said. “On our port side. If you can get a little closer.”

  The marine officer did and then slowed down as we approached something in the water. It looked like a piece of clothing, but as I stuck the push pole in the water and pulled whatever it was out, I realized it was something different.

  “It’s a life jacket,” I said and pulled it up on the deck. “What’s it doing in the water?”

  “I think I see another one,” Officer Bryant yelled from behind the steering wheel. He turned the boat left. “Over there!”

  We approached it, and I picked that one up as well. Then I glared into the water when I spotted something a little to our right side. “Over there. There’s another one. Looks like it’s a trail!”

  “Like freakin’ Hansel and Gretel,” Bryant yelled, turned the boat, and went in the direction of the jacket, fast, this time passing it since we spotted another one ahead of us.

  “It’s Jean,” I said to myself, smiling as he sped the boat up, and I felt the strong wind in my hair. “It has her written all over it.”

  We followed a couple of jackets more, praying she wouldn’t run out of them, then finally spotted the boat ahead of us.

  “There he is,” I yelled. “Don’t lose him this time!”

  The officer pressed the boat to its maximum, and soon we were closing in on Fowler, fast. I pulled my gun out to be ready, hoping I wouldn’t have to use it on an old friend. But ready to, if it came to that.

  Officer Bryant was in close contact with the chopper, and as he told it our coordinates, I could hear it approaching in the distance. I could see its lights coming up behind us as we came close to Fowler and his boat. Officer Bryant yelled into the microphone for him to stop, but, of course, Fowler didn’t. He took a sharp right turn, trying to escape us when another boat joined us from that side. It was another marine patrol that had communicated with Officer Bryant. A third one came from his port side.

  Fowler was surrounded.

  He made another sharp turn, and now I could suddenly see Jean in the beam of light we were shining on their boat. She had lifted herself up on her knees, and with her hands tied behind her back, she was now lifting something and turning around. I narrowed my eyes to see what it was, then realized it was a gun.

  Not a gun-gun, but a flare gun.

  With it clutched between her hands, she turned around, so she had her back turned to Fowler before she fired the gun straight
at him.

  The bright red light that followed blinded us all.

  THREE WEEKS LATER

  Chapter 47

  “Do you need more wood up there?”

  I looked down at my dad in my driveway. He was wearing overalls and held a hammer in his hand. The driveway was packed with wood we had bought at Lowe’s to fix up the porch and façade, leaving no room for our cars. So far, we were doing pretty well, and it wasn’t looking too shabby.

  Josie was in the back with Camille, talking. My dad and I were giving them their space, moving along with the fix-up. I was planning on moving back into the house a week from now, and since I was on leave from work while the investigation of Fowler and the trafficking ring was being brought to an end, I thought there would be no better time than this to get my house back to its own beautiful self. I had realized I loved this house, and now that Fowler and the rest of his goons were gone, I believed I could feel safe in there again. It was, after all, Josie’s childhood home, and I’d had many wonderful memories there. I believed there were more to be made. Many more.

  “Yes, hand me that big one over there,” I yelled.

  My dad grabbed a plank and slid it up toward me. I placed it on the porch. My dad walked up to me, wiping his forehead with his hand. He handed me a soda from our cooler box.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I needed that.”

  It was getting really hot outside. It was April, and the temperatures most days were in the mid-eighties. Not a perfect time to do house renovations, but hey, this was Florida. Any day would be too hot, right?

  I drank from the bottle and ended up gulping down almost half of it.

  “Looks pretty nice,” my dad said, studying our work so far.

  “Still a lot more on the inside once we’re done out here,” I said.