Starks' Reality (24 page)

Jake jumped around a slow-moving truck, tucking the
car back into the right lane just as an oncoming pickup sped by, its horn blaring.

“Tran must have wandered into the middle of an exchange the night he was out looking for oyster smugglers. Coop just happened to be at the dock. He was a convenient target
to blame for Tran’s death. Everyone would think he’d had some kind of flashback and then passed out afterwards.”

“But, why go to the trouble to frame him?”

“Coop said he saw lights in the bay that night. Maybe they thought he’d seen the murder, or the drug deal. Either way, they wanted to make sure that no one listened to him. And if Coop is found guilty, the investigation will stop.”

“You think
Radisson burned down our house?” she asked.

Jake shrugged. “Either him or one of the people he’s working with.”

Heather shuddered.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I will be as soon as I get my father back.”

“Yeah.”

“But I still don’t understand why Radisson kidnapped him.”

“Maybe he wants to find out who Coop has talked to.”

Jake slowed the car inside the city limits of Port O’Donald. He didn’t want to draw attention from anyone; it would be easier to get in on his own. Coop might not survive a standoff with authorities.

He turned in
to the dark marina and eased down the road toward the boathouses. As he’d expected, a light shone from the upstairs of Radisson’s, and the green Mercedes sat out front.

“Bingo,” he said, quietly.

“Coop’s here?” Heather unbuckled her belt.

Jake grabbed her arm as he cut the engine. “Listen to me, Heather. If you don’t do exactly what I say, your father could end up dead. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“
First, I’m going to make sure they’re inside. I want you to stay right here. Don’t move, and don’t make a sound. If someone drives by, slide down in the seat so they can’t see you. Under no circumstances—”

“I’ve got it,” she said. “I’m hiding right here.”

“Good. Can you reach under the seat and hand me the case?”

“What case?”

“It’s cloth.”

Heather leaned forward, extracted the gun case, and handed it to Jake. He unzipped it and removed the Glock. Checking to make sure the clip was in place and a round was chambered, he tucked the gun into the back of his pants and pulled his jack
et on over it. Then he rolled down his window, opened the car door silently, and slipped out.

He’d parked in the shadows of an oak about thirty yards from the boathouse. The rest of the buildings looked empty, as they had the last time he’d been there.
Radisson’s was the only car.

He saw nothing in the thirty yards to use for cover. Once he started out, he’d be in the open. Jake took several deep breaths as he looked around, then he sprinted to the boathouse.

The only sound he heard from inside the building was that of water slapping the walls. There was no longer a lock on the bottom door, so he opened it slowly, checking through the crack before continuing. The light over the boats was on, but he didn’t see anyone around. Both boats rocked quietly, creaking against their moorings.

A
steep stairway led up from the inside. Judging by the size of the building, it had to open into a main room. There might be nothing to duck behind at the top.

He eased the door shut again and walked slowly aro
und the outside of the building. Two upstairs windows faced south. The one closest to the water was small and opaque, probably a bathroom window.

He stepped out into the water and pulled himself along the edge of the building until he could see around the corner where a balcony hung above the open boathouse back that matched the one in front, complete with sliding glass door.

Jake then crossed the front of the building and checked the north side. In the three feet of room between Radisson’s boathouse and the one next to it, he saw no windows.

After looking around, he started back toward the car, and was still twenty feet away when he spotted the man approaching. Jake stopped.

As soon as he recognized the tall man with grey hair, he continued forward. He shook the deputy’s hand.

“
Sagin. Damn, I’m glad you’re here,” Jake whispered. “Did my office call you?”

“No,” Sagin said. “I was passing by and saw you. What’s up?”

Jake looked back at the building. “Radisson was involved in Tran’s murder, and now he has Coop. I think they’re upstairs, but I’m not sure how to get up there without being seen.”

“You’re right about
Radisson,” Sagin said, also whispering. “But you’ve missed one little detail.”

“What?” Jake turned toward the man and found a three-fifty-seven pointed at his gut.

“Hand over your weapon,” Sagin said.

“You’re with him?”

Sagin shrugged. “Boudreaux was too stupid to keep Evans off the trail by himself. Now, come on, hand it over. I don’t want to shoot you, but I will.”

Jake reached into his shirt.

“Slowly,” Sagin said.

He pulled out the thirty-eight with two fingers and dropped it to the ground. Then he raised his hands.

“Now your backup,” Sagin said.

“What backup?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. I’m not one of these local hillbillies. Hand it over.”

Jake reached down, lifted his pants leg, and pulled the twenty-five from his boot. He placed it on the ground and straightened.

“Any more?”

“No.”

If Sagin got close enough to find the Glock, Jake would have him.

“Fine.” Sagin motioned toward the building with a nod. “Let’s go say hello to
Radisson, and see if Cooper’s still alive. He’s one tough old man.”

Jake turned toward the boathouse. At least they were walking away from Heather’s hiding place, but he didn’t know how he could draw the
Glock without getting shot.

Damn
.

CHAPTER
18

H
eather’s heart pounded as she peeked over the top of the dash to watch the exchange between Jake and the sheriff’s deputy. She thought she heard Jake call him Sagin, but she wasn’t sure. What was she going to do? She’d watched Jake give up his guns, and knew he still had the one tucked into the back of his pants. If she could provide a distraction without getting shot, and if Jake reacted quickly, and if none of them made enough noise to alert Coop’s captor—

So many
ifs
terrified her, but she had no choice.

Heather climbed out of the car window and lowered herself quietly to the ground.

“Sagin,” she said, her voice deep and relatively soft. She ducked behind the car and watched around the fender.

The deputy spun around, pointing his pistol in her direction.

Jake didn’t hesitate. He drew the gun from his back and held it to the man’s head as he grabbed his shirt.

“You make a sound,” Jake said, his voice a loud hiss, “and I’ll blow your head off.”

Sagin raised his hands. Jake ripped the pistol away and pushed the man forward.

Heather rose as they approached.

“Get the handcuffs out of the glove compartment,” he said.

She did, working as quietly as possible.

Jake cuffed the deputy, and then hit him on the back of the head with the butt of his gun. Heather jumped at the unexpected violence, and Sagin collapsed with a grunt.

“Help me get him into the
trunk,” Jake said.

Heather lifted Sagin’s feet as Jake pulled his arms and they managed to
slide the man over the fender. He was heavier than he looked.

“Why did you hit him?” she whispered.

“I have to keep him quiet, or this isn’t going to work.” Jake pressed the trunk lid shut. “He’s lucky I didn’t shoot him. There’s nothing worse than a cop on the take.”

Heather
shook. She made fists with her hands to control them, but it didn’t help. How could Jake be so calm?

He picked up his guns from the ground, returned them to their hiding places,
and tossed the deputy’s to the ground in the shadows. “I need a diversion.”

“Like what?”

He frowned at her, obviously unhappy about asking for her help. “There’s a small outboard ski boat in the boathouse. Think you can figure out how to start it quickly?”

She nodded.
“If the key’s in it.”

“It was last time I looked.
I’ll climb the stairs as far as I can without being seen. When I give you the signal, I want you to start the boat and head out, full-throttle. Lie in the bottom so Radisson can’t see you.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to run up and hope like hell he’s looking out at his boat.”

“Then what?”

“Then, I’ll play it by ear. Come on.” Jake reached down and took her hand.

Heather pulled, and he turned back.

“What?”

She gulped at the lump in her throat. “Jake, be careful.”

He studied her face for several moments, his blue eyes sparkling from his shadowy face. Then he nodded and started toward the boathouse again with her in tow.

~~**~~**~~

They stopped at the outer door, and Jake looked back at Heather. His Kevlar vest swallowed her.

Taking a deep breath and removing the thirty-eight from the holster, he eased the door open. He stopped for a moment when it squeaked, then pulled again until he had enough room to squeeze through. They both tiptoed along the wooden pier that provided slips for the boats.
The stairs rose from the far side.

Jake stopped a
nd leaned forward, peering up at the open hatch. He could see a white, vaulted ceiling, and a ring of blue carpet around the opening, but nothing else. He waved Heather around behind him.

As soon as she was in the boat with the lines untied, he eased up the steps, staying against the wall to minimize noise and maximize his view when he popped up. There would be a wall to his back, but open space on three sides.

Jake stopped with his head a foot below the apartment floor. He looked back and gave Heather a thumb’s up.

The boat’s motor cranked and sputtered, and his heart skipped a beat. Then it cranked again and caught. The motor whined as she shoved the throttle forward. He watched her dive for the bottom of the boat,
and then he turned to face the steps.

A voice came from
above him. “Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Radisson stood on the back balcony, watching his boat depart, just as planned.

Jake ran up the last few steps with the thirty-eight in both hands, aiming at the bay side of
the apartment as he emerged. Time slowed.

Blue carpet covered the floor of the long
, furnished room. There were four exits besides the stairway: two sliding glass doors, the bathroom door, and the fourth behind him and to his left. Probably a closet. Coop lay on the floor near the wall. His hands were tied behind his back and blood covered his face. He wasn’t moving.

Radisson
emerged from the back doorway angry. “Son of a bitch! Someone stole my—”

He stopped when he saw Jake and backed up a step, raising empty hands.

“Get on the floor,” Jake yelled, “face down. Now!”

Radisson
frowned for a moment, then he knelt and stretched out on the carpet, glaring at him.

“Arms out, palms up,” Jake said. “Face turned away. Do it!”

The man complied, but slowly. Jake walked forward and knelt beside Coop. He pulled Coop’s shoulder to roll him forward, and worked on the rope with one hand. Although blood had slicked tight knots, he managed to get one undone.

Suddenly, Jake toppled forward and hit the wall.
Who the hell had kicked him?

He tried to push himself up, but h
is left arm hung at his side, annoyingly useless. He turned around using his right. Where the hell was his gun? His ears rang.

Then something broke through the noise.

“Well, if it isn’t our friend the marshal.”

Jake looked up into the emaciated face of Eileen Murphy. She held a twenty-five and pointed it at his head as she walked toward him.

“I told you,” Radisson said. “He’s the chief of police.”

“W
hatever. He’s a chief pain in the ass. I told Daily we’d have to—”

The gun fired again as Eileen fell suddenly backwards and hit the floor with a grunt. The twenty-five flew across the room behind her.

Jake grabbed the Glock from his waist. “Don’t move!”

Radisson
, on his hands and knees, looked surprised. Eileen rolled to her side, groaning for breath. After a minute, she sat up, clutching her ribs.

Jake glanced down and found Coop working on the ropes. If Coop hadn’t swept Eileen’s feet out from under her, the bullet lodged somewhere in the wall above them would have been in Jake’s skull.

Using the wall, Jake pushed himself to his feet. The pain started then, flaring like a hot nail driven into his flesh. He glanced at the blossoming hole in his shoulder, thankful Eileen’s aim wasn’t better.

Leaning over, he offered Coop an elbow and pulled him up, trying not to make too much noise in the process. He didn’t want the couple he held at gunpoint to
see his weakness. He couldn’t afford to have them charge him at the moment.

Coop gasped as he straightened.

“Can you walk?” Jake asked.

“Yeah.”

“You go first,” he said, nodding toward the hatch. “If I see even a glimpse of either one of you,” he said to Radisson and Eileen Murphy, “I’ll put a hole in you the size of a fucking watermelon.” Then he backed to the hatch and down the stairs, waiting for either of them to emerge.

He heard their footsteps and hushed whispers upstairs, but neither one stepped close to the opening.

Coop made it to the bottom of the steps. He stood panting against the wall. “I...can’t…”

Jake stopped beside him. “Yes, you can.
Put your arm around my shoulders. I can’t hang onto you.”

Coop did as Jake ordered, and they walked sideways to the door so that Jake could guard their backs. Unfortunately, he was losing blood fast. His head felt light and his vision started to tunnel. He had to hang on until they got to the car. If he passed out now, he and Coop would die.

Dammit, he couldn’t let Coop die. He’d promised Heather he’d get her father back, and that’s what he would do.

Gritting his teeth and growling
through the pain, Jake kicked the outside door open and dragged Coop through. He started toward the car as fast as he could. Coop hung on, hobbling to keep up.

When a dark van skidded to a halt in front of them, Jake stumbled and stopped. Coop fell to his knees.

A rifle barrel appeared from the driver’s window.

“Shit,” Jake said. He raised the Glock.

Before he could fire, Heather ran into his limited field of vision from his right, yelling, “No! Jake, don’t shoot!”

His brain wouldn’t function fast enough to figure out what was happening, but he didn’t pull the trigger—Heather
had told him not to.

T
he rifle fired.

He saw the flash from the muzzle and waited for impact.

Instead, he heard a yell from behind him—a man’s voice, crying out.

Jake looked back and saw
Radisson fall to the ground, doubled over. Eileen, running through the door behind him, tripped over her boyfriend and skidded on all fours.

“Jake!”

He turned again. Heather, her arms outstretched, ran to him and dropped to her knees as he did, grabbing both him and her father.

She
was the last thing he saw before tumbling into the darkness.

~~**~~**~~

“Is he awake?”

The young nurse, emerging from Coop’s room, nodded. “You can go in.”

“Thanks.” Heather pushed the door open and slipped inside.

Coop smiled at her. “Hey, Deuce.”

“Hey,” she said.

Jake rose from the chair beside Coop’s bed. He wore a hospital gown and his right arm in a sling. He watched her, his expression guarded, his
gaze holding hers. They hadn’t spoken since the rescue, two and a half days earlier. Both Jake and Coop had been unconscious by the time they’d arrived at the emergency room, and Heather had been running between Coop’s room and the bar ever since.

Jake had made it clear he regretted getting involved with her. No words to the contrary had passed between them.

Yet, his face held something she couldn’t quite interpret—anticipation, maybe, as if he were waiting for her to speak first. She wasn’t sure what to do. As much as her heart pounded at that moment, her head told her to stay away from Jake Starks.

Heather leaned over and kissed her father, then
she sat on the edge of his bed. “How are you feeling?”

He smiled. “Better than I should, now that you’re here.”

She held his hand and brushed his hair back from his face. His cheeks still sported bruises and crusted cuts, and purple and yellow flesh surrounded his left eye.

“The doctors want to keep you here another day or two.”

“I’d feel better if they let me out,” he said.

“They have to make sure your ribs heal properly.”

He frowned. “I know.”

Even with his battered face, and gray beard and hair, he looked like a pouting child.

Heather laughed. “I love you, Coop.”

“I love you, too, Deuce.” He squeezed her hand. “This has been one hell of a couple of weeks, hasn’t it?”

She nodded.

Motion t
o her left drew her attention to the door as it closed quietly behind Jake.

“What’s going on with you two?”

She looked at her father. “Nothing.”

Coop sighed and then winced.

“Are you all right?”

He nodded. “Just twinges now and then. No big deal.” After repositioning himself on the pillow, he looked up at her again and smiled. “I guess I haven’t been the best father in the world.”

“Coop—”

“P
lease, Heather, let me finish. I can’t explain to you why I’m like I am. Hell, I don’t know why.” He looked away. “I guess some people handle stress better than others. I didn’t handle it so well...after Sammy died. I started drinking while I was still overseas. Of course, it was easy there. Lots of guys were boozers.

“I loved your mom, but I should never have married her. She thought she could change me. It wasn’t fair to her. The only person who can change me is me. I guess I knew it even then, but I let her live the lie. She had her own problems, and being with me sure as hell didn’t help her.”

He frowned. “I used to have a lot of nightmares, especially those first few years. I woke up one night with my hands around her throat. If she hadn’t hit me with the alarm clock and cut my head open, I might have killed her.” Coop studied his hands. His eyes filled with tears and he swallowed hard.