Sweet Dreams Boxed Set (135 page)

That was the problem with waiting; it was so damned boring. She leaned back, not fighting the feeling—if Dad or Mom texted the computer would alarm—and allowed her eyes to drift shut.

“Hands where I can see them,” a man’s voice sliced through the gentle sound of the surf like a cleaver.

Megan blinked as a bright light speared her vision. She couldn’t make out the man behind the light.

“Hands,” he repeated.

She slowly slid her hands out from under the blanket, holding them palms forward so he could see they were empty.

“Megan, is that you?” The light inched down just enough for her to make out Officer Gant’s face. “Where’s your mother? What are you doing here?”

Gant. Chief Hayden’s right hand man. Panic sizzled through Megan although she fought not to show it. Stay calm. Focus. That’s what Lucy would do. “How did you find me?”

“There’s an alarm on the swimming pool gate.”

Shit. Megan didn’t hold her breath—that was the worst thing to do if you might be getting ready to fight or make a run for it. Instead, she planted her feet firmly, moved the blanket aside so she wouldn’t get tangled in it, and scanned the area for possible weapons.

Nothing within reach except her laptop. Ahh… the best weapon of all. She twisted her body to face Gant, brushing her arm against the keyboard to wake the sleeping computer. Two clicks, that’s all she needed, just time enough for two clicks and she could activate the video chat app.

“Why are you here?” Gant asked taking one step toward her and stopping as if she posed a threat. “Where’s your mother?”

How much did he know? Was he in on it, working with Chief Hayden? Or just an innocent cop caught up in the chief’s web of lies?

“Thought you’d be working with the sheriff and state lab people over at the Fleming’s house,” she said.

He shifted his weight as if uncomfortable. Ah-hah, Megan thought. He knows. And he knows we know. Was that good or bad? If he was working with the Flemings and Hayden did he now realize he’d have to silence Megan as well? She just needed to distract him, two seconds, that’s all she needed. But how?

He ignored her implied accusation to glance over his shoulder, his hand falling to his weapon. “Answer me, Megan. Where’s your mother?”

Megan jerked her chin toward the drive at his back. Gant’s gaze followed as he drew his gun. She darted her hand out to the computer and clicked. Gant caught the movement and whirled back.

“Stop. Don’t move,” he ordered. Megan froze, her hand in mid-air.

The computer made the pinging sound of the video connection and Taylor’s face appeared. “Megan. What’s up?” he asked, squinting at the screen.

“There’s a police officer named Gant here,” she said, somehow managing to keep her words from tumbling over each other in her rush of relief. “He has his gun drawn and is asking about my mother.”

Gant holstered his gun and approached. “Who the hell is that?”

“That,” Megan told him, “is the FBI.”

“Special Agent Taylor. We’ve been fully briefed and the sheriff’s department and state police are on their way. Step back from Ms. Callahan, Officer Gant.”

“The FBI? Why—someone want to fill me in on what the hell is going on?” Gant asked, his gaze swiveling from Megan to Taylor’s face on the screen to checking the area behind him as if expecting an ambush.

“Does this have something to do with Chief Hayden cancelling the crime scene unit?” He lowered his light so they could now look each other in the eye. “It wasn’t just budgetary concerns, was it?”

“Did you ever call the sheriff for help?” Megan asked.

His lips tightened and she was sure he was going to tell her it was none of her business or ask what right a kid had to be questioning a cop’s authority. But Gant surprised her. “I did. Found out later the chief cancelled them as well.”

“Like she also shut down the cell tower and left the drawbridge up so no one could leave Harbinger Cove?”

He pulled out his cell phone with his other hand—meaning he wasn’t about to shoot her, Megan noted with relief. “Did Chief Hayden send you here to hurt my mother? Stop her from talking?”

Confusion crossed his features before he blanked them. “Why would the chief—talking about what?”

“About how that crime scene was staged by Pastor Fleming. About how he was faking his own death, and how he kidnapped Mateo to frame him, or how the chief and Mrs. Fleming are helping to cover it all up.”

“Megan—” Taylor’s voice cut through hers, a warning. Right, never give away too much. But he wasn’t the one here with a guy three times her size carrying a gun.

Gant must have had his doubts already. Or he’d seen enough behind the scenes to put it all together as well. Because his shoulders sagged and he blew his breath out as if surrendering. “It was those damn church loans, wasn’t it? I knew it was too good to be true, but the chief put her own money in and Fleming was her brother-in-law—”

“Do you know where the chief is now?” Taylor asked.

Gant shook his head. “She left me to cover any calls, said she was going to inspect the crime scene again.”

“There was no one there when we drove by,” Megan said. “Just an empty patrol car.”

“She’s probably with Fleming and her sister,” Taylor said. “The sheriff’s emergency response team is still half an hour out.”

“You found Fleming’s boat?” Gant asked.

“My mom’s on her way there now.”

“She left you here alone?”

“Thought I’d be safe from the chief and any cops working with her. I would have been if I stayed out front where I was supposed to.”

“She had the right idea. Stay here and I’ll go watch your mom’s back. Tell me where she is.”

Megan wanted to go with him, make sure her mom was okay. But she realized she was a liability—not because she was a kid or because she couldn’t handle herself in a crisis. Because if things went wrong, she could be used as a hostage against her mother.

And the fact that Gant wanted her to stay behind proved that he was one of the good guys. Didn’t it?

She glanced at Taylor. He looked uncertain as well.

“If the chief’s there already, Lucy will need back up,” Gant said, obviously impatient. “If I was in on it, I’d already know where they are, wouldn’t I?”

“Unless they doubled crossed you and left, taking the money,” Megan argued.

“Your choice. You want your mom outnumbered three-to-one or you want to trust me?”

Megan scrutinized him and decided to do what Lucy would do: trust her gut. “Tell him,” she instructed Taylor.

Taylor nodded his agreement and the screen switched to a map with the GPS location flagged.

“Skeleton Marsh,” Gant said.

“Skeleton Marsh?” Megan echoed, not liking the sound of that.

“Yep. Got its name because it’s where pirates used to dump bodies—between the crabs and the alligators, if you ever found anything left, it was only bits and pieces of—”

“Their skeleton. How far is it?”

“Ten minutes.” He hesitated. “Are you okay here?”

“I’ll stay with her,” Taylor said. “And inform the sheriff and state police that you’ll also be on the scene.” It was a thinly veiled warning but Gant simply jerked his chin in a nod, turned, and jogged back to his car.

The night grew silent once more, even the hypnotic pounding of the surf seemed muted. Megan took a deep breath and sat down with the computer.

“Thanks, Taylor.”

“You’re welcome. I’m texting your mom to let her know Gant is on the way and I’ll update your dad and Walden. Be back in a jiff.”

Nothing to do now but wait. And Megan was quickly learning waiting was the hardest job of all.

Chapter 22

Lucy watched as the woman with the duffle threw it onto the raft tied to the rear of Fleming’s boat. The second woman stood back, keeping guard on the men in the cabin, a pistol in her hand. “We should leave now. That FBI agent—” she said. Chief Hayden.

Which made the other woman Shelly Fleming. “That FBI agent has nothing on us. Especially not after she finds Mateo Romero killed himself rather than go to jail for the rest of his life.” She shook her head. “Poor baby. So upset after accidentally killing the sweet, kindly Pastor Fleming when he took him hostage and didn’t get him his insulin. Leaving me a grieving but soon-to-be rich widow and you, big sis, still Chief of Police. Although I can’t for the life of me understand why that matters so much to you.”

They were still talking as they moved inside, out of hearing range. Lucy checked Megan’s phone. Still no cell signal and no Wi-Fi in range. She returned the phone to the vest’s watertight inside pocket where it would stay safe.

She needed both hands to make it over to the boat, so she left the Remington behind as she climbed onto the railing. The tree seemed farther away than she thought, but she’d learned as a kid that climbing trees was more about attitude than technique. She flung herself out over the mud and grabbed hold of the tree trunk. The bark wasn’t as brittle as the oaks back home, lots of small gnarled bits to dig in with her hands and feet. It scratched at her bare legs and arms, but soon, she was edging along a twisted limb, admiring the live oak’s structure. Definitely a good climbing tree.

Despite her messed-up ankle, which made her second guess every other step as she planted that foot, she made it across the branch, over the mudflat and to the Zodiac in only a few minutes. The night noises of the wildlife in the marsh covered her movements nicely. The boat rocked gently as small waves lapped against it. Tide coming in.

She swung down over the Zodiac, weight suspended by her hands, and dropped the few feet down into it. Her landing made a thudding noise like a rock thrown into a pond. She flattened herself against the bottom of the boat, waiting for a response but none came.

Okay, stage one complete. Now for the hard part. She had to assume both women were armed and she knew Hayden was also trained. Even if she surprised them inside the cabin, she’d still be outnumbered and all they had to do to negate Lucy’s efforts would be to threaten the hostages.

How to get them away from their captives?

She sat up and pulled the duffle bag toward her. Heavy. At least twenty pounds. She opened it. Wads of cash banded together. Close to a million, she guessed given the weight and dimensions.

A gator slid past the raft, its tail swishing the mud and water into a murky, silt-laden wake. Lucy thought for a moment. She didn’t have to get the hostages safe to shore; all she needed was to buy some time until the sheriff’s department arrived.

She untied the line anchoring the raft to the boat. With the tide coming in, the current pushed her inland, deeper into the lagoon and mud.

Once she was halfway between the boardwalk and the boat, she grabbed her Maglite and secured it to the side of the raft where it would shine out over the mud between her and the boat. Then she grabbed a few handfuls of cash.

“Mrs. Fleming?” she called out in a neighborly yoo-hoo shout. “Think I found something that belongs to you!”

Light flooded the boat deck as the cabin door banged open. Shelly ran to the railing, followed by Hayden.

“I’ll trade you,” Lucy said. She tossed a bunch of bills into the air. They fluttered on the night breeze then landed on the mud where the crabs skittered toward them, seeking food.

“Are you crazy?” Shelly screamed. “What the hell are you doing?” She raised a pistol and aimed it at Lucy.

“If I go down, so does your money,” Lucy called back. “Explain it to her, Chief. Simple hostage exchange. The money for Mateo and Fleming.” She hoped Fleming was still alive—given what Shelly said a few minutes ago, it might already be too late for the pastor.

“Shoot her, Norah,” Shelly urged her sister. “We’ll get the money back and leave her to the gators.”

“She’s wearing a bulletproof vest,” Hayden said, although she did raise her weapon and point it at Lucy. “No way can I make a head shot, not with that light in my eyes.”

“So shoot the light,” Shelly said.

“Or I could shoot you,” Lucy replied, aiming her Glock. “Now that you’ve threatened a federal agent, I’d be justified.”

“We haven’t done anything,” Shelly yelled back. “We’re the heroes here. We found all this, were moving that cash to keep it safe from my husband. He’s the bad guy here, not us.”

“Then toss your weapons overboard. I’m sure you ladies won’t mind waiting out there where I can keep an eye on you. The sheriff’s department is on its way.”

As if on cue, a speedboat appeared at the lagoon’s outlet. At first, Lucy was relieved; this would be over and done with in a few minutes. But then she realized that the boat was a civilian one, similar to the flat-bottomed outboard Mateo’s uncle had used to rescue her earlier. And there was only one man in it, not the SWAT team she’d been expecting.

Gant.

Chapter 23

Shelly spotted Gant’s boat about the same time as Lucy but her reaction surprised Lucy. Shelly whirled, raised her pistol, and aimed it at her older sister. “You bitch, you sold me out!”

Hayden raised her own weapon but it was clear she didn’t have the heart to shoot her little sister. “Shelly, no. It’s over. Drop your gun.”

Gant revved his engine faster at the sight of a gun trained on his chief while Lucy grabbed the paddle and pushed-pulled the raft through the thick silt, aiming for the dive platform at the rear of the boat where she could climb on board.

As Gant roared into the protected water of the lagoon, the wake churned the mud and rocked the larger boat and Lucy’s raft, pushing Lucy back, maddeningly just out of reach.

Above her, silhouetted in the light of the open cabin door and Lucy’s Maglite, Hayden lunged for her sister. A gunshot sounded above the growl of Gant’s outboard. Lucy stopped paddling and risked standing, bracing herself against the side of the raft as the wake from Gant’s boat rocked it. She raised her pistol and aimed at the two women struggling on the deck. She was still a good six feet away from being able to board the boat, but close enough to shoot, if need be.

Shelly pushed Hayden back, hard, and Hayden flew over the railing on the opposite side of the boat from Lucy’s position.