A Clandestine Affair Page 16

  Jaci sat in the boat cabin across from Paige and Linsky, trying to assimilate this information along with everything else they had thrown at her and Raoul over the last few minutes.

  Amazingly, she’d fallen into a sound sleep after her shower, only to wake at 7:00 a.m. to the drone of helicopters circling the island. Detectives Linsky and Paige had arrived at Cape Diablo an hour later, demanding to know every detail of last night’s encounter with Enrique. Like her, they agreed that his actions might well indicate an involvement with the Santiago murders.

  However, that was not their primary concern. They’d finally admitted they weren’t detectives, nor were they with the Everglades Police Department, though the local police were cooperating with their operation.

  Linsky worked for Homeland Security. Paige was with Border Patrol. They were both part of a special interagency task force trying to stop smuggling of goods, drugs and illegal aliens into the country. Enrique was their number one target.

  “Cape Diablo has always been a hotbed of smuggling activity,” Linsky explained. “The location is perfect. It has access to hundreds of channels that weave through the mangrove islands and to the open waters of the Gulf.”

  “And it has that hidden deepwater cove on the southern tip of the island that can accommodate the larger boats while hiding them from view,” Paige added.

  “I understand the smuggling aspect,” Jaci said. “I’m just not clear how my investigation interfered with your plans.”

  “It started when you contacted Mac Lowell.”

  “I only wanted to talk about the photos he took of the original crime scene.”

  Linsky sipped his coffee. “Yes, but when the local police investigated the murder, they discovered that right after Mac made the call to you, he made another to a cell phone registered to one of the several aliases Enrique uses for doing business in the States.”

  “Then you already knew his real identity?”

  “Yes, but it was a fairly recent discovery and not one that had any real significance to our investigation.”

  “Why would Mac Lowell call Enrique?”

  “We don’t have that figured out,” Linksy admitted. “Maybe Lowell worked for him and Enrique decided he’d become dispensable.”

  That wasn’t much of an explanation in Jaci’s mind. “Wouldn’t it be more likely Lowell was paid off thirty years ago to keep quiet about something he’d discovered at the original crime scene, and now that I was calling him about the photos, he was demanding an additional bribe?”

  “Could be,” Paige admitted.

  Linsky uncrossed his legs and leaned in close, directing his intimidating gaze at Jaci. “I’m not putting you down, Miss Matlock. Your professor says you’re top of the class, and I can see why. But if you’re not off Cape Diablo by nightfall, I’ll have no choice but to arrest you.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “That you’re interfering with official law enforcement activities.”

  She’d love to leave Cape Diablo. She’d never been anywhere that reeked of evil and violence the way this island did. But Linsky, Paige and their interagency task force were only interested in getting Enrique. If she just walked away, who would ever find out the truth about what had happened to Pilar and Reyna? Who would ever know if the evil witch had drowned the little boy in the pool?

  Paige turned his attention to Raoul. “I’d suggest you leave the island as well. If Enrique returns to the area, he won’t hesitate to kill you for getting in his way last night.”

  Raoul walked over and stood behind Jaci, facing both men. “What makes you think Enrique’s left the area?”

  “We’ve had helicopters in the air all morning searching for his boat. It’s not docked anywhere on Cape Diablo and hasn’t been spotted in the vicinity.”

  “A crew member could have taken the boat off the island and left Enrique behind,” Raoul reminded him.

  “I assure you if Enrique’s on the island, we’ll find him.”

  “Then you plan to search the swamp and the villa?”

  “If we find evidence he’s still here. But take my word for it. That’s very unlikely. He’s not going to let himself get trapped on an island with no way off.”

  “I agree,” Raoul said, “unless he has unfinished business here.”

  “More reason why you and Miss Matlock should go back to the mainland.”

  “Guess that covers everything,” Paige said, standing up. “Except I’ll have to ask you to stay out of your apartment, Miss Matlock, until we and the CSI team are through in there. We need samples of Enrique’s DNA to match with bits of skin found under Mac’s fingernails. After that, you’d be wise to pack your things and get out, the sooner the better.”

  Raoul walked over and opened the door, letting in a cold, damp draft that seemed fitting with the mood of the day. “I’d like to know my uncle and Alma Garcia will be protected,” he said, “from Enrique and from harassment from government investigators.”

  “I’ll make sure of it,” Linsky promised. “And, Miss Matlock, if you want to go to work for Homeland Security, I’ll be glad to give you a recommendation. You’re smart and stubborn, and don’t give up when the game gets rough, just the kind of person our country needs in its law enforcement ranks.”

  “Thanks,” Jaci said. “I’ll give that some thought.” But it wasn’t on her mind as she picked up the empty coffee cups to take them to the sink. She paused as she passed the bookcase. The pictures of Alison were conspicuously absent.

  Once Linsky and Paige were off the boat, Raoul joined Jaci in the kitchen. “I can take you to the mainland whenever you’re ready. You are going back today, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t seem to have a lot of choice.”

  He took her hands in his. “I can’t say I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “What about you, Raoul? What will you do about Carlos?”

  “I’ll try again to talk some sense into him, but I’m going back to work as well. I have the Conquiste to locate and explore. Actually, I need to go and make some phone calls now. There are still a few crew members I haven’t been able to reach, and I need to arrange for supplies and getting my diving boat outfitted for the search.”

  Only instead of leaving, he stood there, still holding her hands long after the silence between them grew awkward. Going back to the mainland would not only mean giving up on finding the truth about what had happened to Pilar and Reyna, it would mean not seeing Raoul every day. It might mean not seeing him at all.

  His phone rang, and he dropped her hands and he went to answer it. She poured herself another cup of coffee, then grabbed a pad and pen and went out to the deck.

  Carlos was mending fish nets at the end of the dock. He looked up once and stared menacingly at her as a helicopter flew directly overhead. She smiled and waved. He ignored her, and she went back to her notes, painfully aware that almost every scenario she came up with for the night of the murders had him playing a role.

  It was a good thirty minutes later when she heard a loud thud. She looked up to see Carlos stretched out on the deck, holding his stomach and writhing in pain.

  She yelled for Raoul as she ran to Carlos. By the time she got to him, his eyes were rolling back in his head and he was shaking uncontrollably. She put a hand on his wrist to check his pulse. It was dangerously slow.

  “You’ve got to get him to the hospital,” she said.

  Only there was a problem. Linsky and Paige’s boat had the Quest blocked so that it couldn’t clear the dock.

  “You get Carlos on board,” Jaci called. “I’ll move the other boat.” She jumped on deck, but realized as soon as she got to the helm that one of the men had removed the key.

  She yelled that to Raoul and took off at a dead run to find someone to move the boat. Sand flew behind her as she raced toward the pool house, sure she’d find the CSI team still combing her apartment.

  She was wrong. The pool house was empty. Apparently, they’d started their investigatio
n somewhere else. Panicked, she ran back to the courtyard. Alma was standing in the weed-choked jungle of a garden, shoveling dirt and tossing it onto the brick path near the north wing of the villa.

  Jaci raced toward her, hoping she could make her understand. “I’m looking for some men, Alma. Not tenants, just visitors. Have you seen them?”

  She didn’t look up, but dug all the faster.

  “Carlos is sick, Alma. He’s very sick and Raoul needs to take him to the hospital. If you’ve seen the men, tell me where they are.”

  Alma didn’t respond, and there was no time to waste trying to get through to her. Jaci turned her back on the woman, and yelled for help.

  And that’s when the cold, hard face of the shovel slammed into the back of her head. Jaci’s knees buckled, and she went down into the jungle of weeds. The last thing she saw before she passed out was the twisted face of the evil witch.

  Run, Jaci, run.

  But now it was too late.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jaci opened her eyes. The room was a blur of colors and translucent shapes. She tried to move, but her head seemed to weigh a ton. Even swallowing was difficult, and she felt as if she were in a hospital—or funeral home—choking on the sickeningly sweet scent of gardenias.

  She blinked repeatedly, and slowly the colors and swirling shapes began to coalesce into recognizable forms. She was lying atop a white chenille spread in the middle of a wide bed. Dozens of lit candles, assorted sizes, all of them white, lined the bedside table and heavy wooden mantel.

  The glow from the candles cast shadows on the massive Spanish armoire and the hanging statues of saints that dominated the wall in front of her. And amid all the smoke and glittering candlelight, there was photograph after photograph of Andres Santiago.

  This wasn’t a bedroom, but a memorial—an in credibly creepy shrine. The haze in Jaci’s mind continued to clear.

  She remembered Carlos rolling around the deck in pain, remembered running to find Linsky and Paige, remembered the blow to her head. And now she was where she’d wanted to be ever since she’d arrived on Cape Diablo.

  She was on the third floor of the villa. She’d entered Alma Garcia’s world—a world where the dead and the living coexisted and time stood still.

  But this was not the way Jaci had hoped to see it. Her right arm began to cramp. She tried to pull it from beneath her, but her wrists scraped against the scratchy cords of rope that bound them. She couldn’t actually see her ankles, but could tell her they were tied as well.

  Someone started humming, and Jaci twisted until she caught sight of Alma, standing near a window that looked out over the beach and white-capped waters of the gulf. She was in the familiar, tattered white dress, cradling a baby doll in one arm.

  The doll looked a lot like the one Tamale had found on the beach, except this one wasn’t ravaged by saltwater. Alma’s other hand held a small black pistol.

  She seemed oblivious of Jaci being in the room, though she must have dragged her here and tied her up. Only carrying Jaci up three flights of very steep stairs would be quite a feat for a frail woman like Alma.

  She would have had to have help. Jaci shuddered as the obvious explanation filled her with a new wave of dread.

  Alma hadn’t carried her up the stairs. Enrique had.

  There was no sign of the man, but Jaci was sure he hadn’t gone far. Perhaps to bolt the doors so that Raoul couldn’t come bounding to her rescue. Or maybe he’d gone to kill Raoul, saving her to last.

  No. She couldn’t start thinking like that. If she did, she’d never escape. She had to stay in control and find a way to get through to Alma before Enrique returned.

  “Hello, Alma.”

  Alma stepped toward the bed. “Don’t say the name of that lying whore inside this sacred room. Do you hear me? I won’t have it!”

  Jaci sucked in a shaky breath and tried to make sense of Alma’s comment. Was it because she’d killed Andres that she wouldn’t let her own name be spoken inside the room she’d made into his shrine? Was this some kind of penance to pay for her sins?

  “You must miss Andres,” Jaci said, keeping her voice low and steady, and trying to reach Alma on another level.

  “Of course I miss him.”

  “Were you in love with Andres?”

  “We loved each other. He belonged to me. So did this dress.” Alma lifted a handful of the threadbare fabric, only to let it slip back through her fingers.

  Jaci had no idea how much of Alma’s delusions were true, but even if they’d all been, there wasn’t time for this now. “Carlos is very sick. He needs us,” Jaci pleaded. “Untie me so we can help him.”

  Alma gave no sign of hearing her. Instead she walked to her dressing table and lifted the top of an old-fashioned record player, carefully placing the needle on the turning disk. When the music started, she lay down the gun. And then she wrapped herself in the arms of her invisible lover and started to waltz around the room.

  The gun was out of her hands. That was a good sign, but it wasn’t enough. “Please untie me, Alma. Andres wants you to free me so I can help his friend Carlos.”

  Alma waltzed to the bed, then leaned over and cupped one hand around her mouth as if she were a young girl sharing an innocent secret with a friend.

  “Reyna and Pilar aren’t really in their bedroom. They’re dead,” she murmured.

  “Did you kill them?”

  “I had to. I had to make them pay. She stole my dress and was dancing with Andres. I had to make them pay.”

  “What about Andres’s son? Did you drown him in the pool?”

  Alma’s eyes went wild. “Who told you?”

  “I saw him there. He told me himself.”

  “That was her fault, too. She made him like her more than me. It was all part of her plan to steal Andres away from me.”

  “You were right to kill her. Carlos was right to help you, but now you have to help him. Untie me. Please, untie me or Carlos will die and you will be left on Cape Diablo all alone.”

  “No. Carlos can’t leave me.”

  “Then untie me now so we can help him. You must hurry before Enrique comes back.”

  “Andres wants me to untie you?”

  “Yes.”

  Finally, they were getting somewhere. Alma dropped to the bed beside her. Jaci rolled over to make it easier for her to get to the ropes at her wrist, but instead of working on knots, Alma opened the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out a knife. It was the same one she’d threatened Jaci with on the beach, or else very similar.

  Jaci held her breath until the woman had slipped the point of the blade between the strands of rough rope.

  “She was only a servant girl,” Alma said as she sawed at the tough cord. “She should never have danced with my husband.”

  Poor woman. She was totally nuts, so delusional she’d confused her identity with that of the woman she’d killed. Either that or—

  That was it! The missing piece to the puzzle. The one flaw in every scenario Jaci had come up with. The explanation for Carlos’s undying loyalty and for Enrique’s visits to the island.

  “You’re Medina.”

  CARLOS WAS ON THE BOAT and ready to go. Tamale was as well, standing by his adopted master and licking the gnarled hand that kept sliding off the bed. Raoul felt his uncle’s pulse. It was stronger than it had been when he’d first lifted him from the deck.

  Raoul’s was racing. Jaci should have been back by now. Even with helicopters circling overhead and cops more populous than flies on the island, he shouldn’t have let her go off by herself.

  “I’ll be back, Uncle Carlos. Hang in there.”

  Carlos only nodded as Raoul hit the deck and jumped to the dock. Linsky and Paige were a few yards away, walking toward the dock, but Jaci was nowhere in sight.

  “Where’s Jaci?” he called.

  “Isn’t she with you?”

  “No. She went to her apartment to look for you so you could move your boat.
Carlos is sick and I have to get him to the hospital at once.”

  “We haven’t seen her,” Linksky said, and something in his voice sliced Raoul’s heart right in two.

  “We weren’t in the apartment,” Paige said, “but a couple of the cops have found evidence that Enrique may still be on the island and hiding out in the swamp.”

  Raoul didn’t wait to hear more. Jaci was in trouble or she’d have been back. He had to find her. He could not lose her. He could not fail another woman he loved.

  THE DOOR TO THE BEDROOM flew open just as Jaci’s hands slid free. She grabbed the knife Medina dropped and rolled back into place, as if her arms were still tied, as Enrique stomped into the room. His clothes were coated in red mud, and the rotting stench of the swamps emitted from him with every move.

  “I told you to call me the second she opened her eyes.”

  “It’s okay,” Medina explained. “She’s one of us now. She understands I had to kill them.”

  “You crazy bitch. Do you want to spend the rest of your worthless life rotting in some gringo prison?” Enrique shoved Medina from the bed and away from Jaci.

  The woman knotted her thin hands in the folds of her dress and slunk to the corner like a little girl who’d been punished. “We have to help Carlos so he won’t leave me here alone to look for the treasure.”

  “You idiot. There’s no treasure. There never has been. Your stupid husband wasted it all on this crumbling stucco relic.”

  “Don’t call Andres stupid.”

  “He was stupid and he slept with whores.” Enrique scanned the room. “Where’s the gun?”

  Medina reached it a heartbeat before he did, only this time she pointed it at Enrique.

  “Andres wasn’t stupid. He loved me.”

  “Hand me the gun, Medina.”

  “No. Let the woman go. If you don’t let her go, Carlos will die. I can’t stay here by myself. I can’t. The villa hates me.”

  “The villa is nothing but stucco and wood. Now hand me the gun.”

  “No.” She pointed the short barrel right at his head.

  “Don’t be a dope, Medina. We’re home free. Jaci can’t prove a thing with her blood splatter theory. Besides, she’ll be dead. Now hand me the gun.”