40 Souls to Keep - 15. Chapter 15

The sixteen-mile drive to the Marco Island bridge added nothing new to Jase’s ever-growing impression of Naples. The landscape was a checkerboard of tiled roofs and strip malls, with a listing fruit stand every few miles. The variation died once they crossed the Trail. The four-lane road that spanned the final eight miles was pretty enough, with landscaped medians, but even the most skillful landscaping couldn’t hide the water lapping gently at both sides of the road. Mangrove trees arched up and over each other, tangling their branches and roots in the brackish water. Herons splashed in the shallows by the road, but beyond that, the trees closed in. Lucas said the rains had been heavy that summer, and here was the proof. Water reached the top of the road in some places.

“It used to flood at the drop of a hat,” Lucas said in a sleepy voice. His head was tipped against his window, eyes closed. “Then they spent a gazillion dollars to widen and raise the road. Now it only floods every other hurricane.”

“Charming.” Water wasn’t the problem. He was a strong swimmer. It was what lived in it beyond the tangle of mangroves that set his nerves on edge. What could possibly be out here to attract tourists? Then they shot around a bend onto a straightaway, and the Marco Island bridge rose in front of them, a graceful arch, and beyond it, a postcard-perfect island paradise.

“Wow.”

Lucas grinned. “It does impress, doesn’t it?”

Jase coasted over the bridge at the posted 35 mph and dropped down onto the island. No sign of economic problems here. Boats crammed the marina at the base of the bridge—bright, shiny and sporting names like Dana’s Toy and Livin’ Large. The houses lining the main drag covered all the pastels in the rainbow, their lawns trimmed to laser-level perfection, their palm trees pruned and symmetrical. In the distance, a line of highrises rose up in a neat row, each its own piece of architectural art.

“That’s the beach side of the island,” Lucas said. “There are a couple of large resorts—the Ritz is the biggest—and the rest are condos. Ten years ago, or so the old-timers tell me, you could get a decent two-bedroom beachside unit for about $250,000. Now they go for about a million.”

“I can see why.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s adorable.”

Subtle sarcasm wasn’t a strength Lucas could ever claim. Jase hid a smile. “You don’t like it?”

Lucas shrugged. His sleepiness had faded as soon as they crossed the bridge. “It’s no different than anything else, really. Built with a lot of corruption that nobody wants to talk about, with a core community that smiles at you to your face and curses you behind closed doors.”

“That kind of dynamic can be ripe for trouble.”

Lucas laughed and crossed one leg over the other, tapping the dash with his sneaker. “I don’t see that happening here. There are one or two developers that have the local government by the balls. Everyone else jockeys for a slice of whatever pie is leftover.”

Jase considered his words. “Is the local drug trade tied up in the pecking order?”

“I’m sure. But probably not to the extent that it is in Naples,” Lucas said offhandedly, then sat up straighter. “You think there’s a connection?”

“It’s something I think we should consider.”

They spoke little after that, except for Lucas to guide Jase across the island to the Ritz. He ignored the suggestion to park by the tennis courts and pulled up the steep hill of the main entrance, finding a spot under the crowded portico. “Please leave our car here,” he told the valet. “We’ll be back for it soon.”

“Of course, sir.” The kid tripped over himself to do Jase’s bidding.

“I know you don’t like to hear this.” Lucas led them through towering glass doors and into an opulent, air-conditioned lobby. “But you’re handy to have around.”

Jase swallowed a sardonic smile. He would have preferred to walk a mile than bend a mind to his will, but time was their enemy. Lucas wasn’t declaring his undying love; his tone was more mocking than sincere. But it had held a definite undertone of honest awe, something Jase appreciated considering how his power left a bad taste in his mouth.

Registration had a line ten people deep, so Lucas detoured to the concierge’s desk to inquire on the whereabouts of the human resources department.

“Let me draw you a map,” she said.

“Seriously?” Lucas frowned as she ripped off a piece of stationary and plucked a pen from her drawer.

“Yes. It’s easy to get turned around down there in the employee area.” She made “down there” sound like the seventh circle of hell. Jase guessed it would be if she spent the majority of her day surrounded by so much glitz and opulence. She handed Lucas a crude map, pointed him to a set of elevators, and down they went. The elevator doors opened on a hall painted the same stark gray as the cracked linoleum. It looked like it stretched for miles in either direction. In the distance, people walked back and forth from connecting corridors. Cart trains of fluffy white towels lined the walls.

Compared to the floor above, it was hell.

“Okay, happy for the map now.” Lucas squinted at it in the low light.

They’d driven the length of the place before parking at the main entrance. It stretched along the beach for at least a quarter of a mile. If these tunnels ran from one side of the property to the other, they might need a trail of breadcrumbs to go with their map.

Lucas set off, and Jase followed, trusting him to decipher the concierge’s scrawling script. A five-minute walk brought them to a set of double metal doors, where a brass plaque, set off-center, read Human Resources.

Jase stepped in front. “My turn.”

“After you,” Lucas said, stuffing the map into his pocket.

Every hour they were away from Macy, the smaller the chance they had of saving her when the moment came. They didn’t have time for pleasantries and guilty consciences. For the first time in years, Jase abandoned his gentle manner and got straight to the point. “I need to see the Human Resources manager,” he told the receptionist.

An uncertain smile wavered on her face. “Of course. Is everything all right?”

Jase blew out a breath, tempering his tone. “Yes. It’s just very important that I speak to him or her immediately.”

“I’ll go tell him myself,” she said, smoothing her skirt. She hurried to another door across the room, flanked on either side by interview cubicles, and knocked. Jase waited until she stepped inside to follow.

“Come on.” He gestured Lucas forward, stopping briefly to read the nameplate beside the door: Mr. A. Zimmer.

They opened the door just as Mr. A. Zimmer began shaking his finger at the poor girl. “I’m not seeing somebody who just walked in off the street, Kelly. Tell them to make an appointment.”

“Sorry about that,” Jase interrupted, squeezing Kelly’s arm when it looked as though she’d cry. “It was a last-minute thing. You have time now, don’t you?”

Zimmer grinned so widely, his jaw cracked. “You bet!” He shooed Kelly out of the room and gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk. “What can I do for you?”

Jase sat, nodding at Lucas to do the same. “I’m curious about a man you interviewed last week for a night auditor position.”

Zimmer nodded. “Mr. Pearl?”

Jase blinked his surprise. “That’s right. You remember him?”

“Absolutely. Desperate for the job, but that’s not unusual these days. And way overqualified for the position, which normally, you know, is a red flag.”

Jase nodded as though he understood.

“But there was an air about this guy that I liked.”

“What do you mean exactly?” Lucas piped in.

“Just struck me as honest. I don’t know. He definitely knew his stuff. Ex-CFO for some local builder. I mean, night auditor? With his qualifications, the guy probably could have managed the books for the whole hotel.”

“So you liked him,” Lucas said.

No doubt he was trying to reconcile Zimmer’s description with Swift’s theory of playground drug dealer. At least Zimmer had met the man—had been given a chance to make a judgment in person. Swift had never had the luxury. To Jase, that counted for a lot.

Zimmer nodded. “Clean-cut, intelligent, upfront about his expectations. You think it’s easy to find that kind of employee these days? It’s not. Even with the unemployment rate at fifteen percent.”

“So you offered him the job,” Jase deduced.

Mouth turned into a pensive frown, Zimmer shook his head. “No.”

Jase wondered if he’d missed part of the conversation. “Why not?”

“I—” Zimmer shook his head. “I don’t remember. But in the end he wasn’t a good fit. I do recall that much.”

Jase exchanged a puzzled look with Lucas. “Okay,” he said, clearing his throat. “Do you remember anything else about him?”

“He wasn’t a good fit,” Zimmer repeated. “He just wasn’t a good fit.”

* * *

Lucas closed the door to Human Resources behind them, shutting out Kelly and Zimmer’s enthusiastic goodbyes. “Was I the only one who found that really creepy?”

Jase gave an absent nod, which seemed to satisfy Lucas because he set off, map in hand. Following, Jase decided to keep his own disquiet to himself for the time being. The part Lucas was forgetting was that Zimmer should have remembered exactly why he hadn’t hired Macy’s father. Absent-mindedness played no role when it came to Jase’s power. If the answer had been anywhere in Zimmer’s head, Jase’s question should have compelled him to answer truthfully.

He’d heard some strange stuff these past seven years, all from people oversharing their thoughts, not knowing where to draw the line while under Jase’s influence. He’d never had to coax a recollection from anyone. Not a great fit? Zimmer had spent ten minutes telling them Macy’s dad was a perfect candidate. Why hadn’t he hired him?

Instead, Gordon Pearl had been turned away. That was the part that made Jase uneasy.

“Oops,” Lucas said, stopping to frown at the map. “I think I took a wrong turn.”

Jase hadn’t been paying attention. Now he did, agreeing that nothing looked familiar. “Just look for someone to ask.”

Lucas took the next right. It dead-ended in a gigantic room filled with industrial-size washers and dryers. Identically dressed maids bustled to and fro, folding towels and loading carts. As with the rest of the employee areas, everything was gray, including the uniforms, as though the company did all it could to segregate this world from the one above.

“Excuse me,” Lucas said to the nearest woman. “Where’s the elevator?”

She smiled, then rattled off something in rapid-fire Spanish. Before Jase could shake his head, Lucas caught his arm. “Son of a bitch!” he hissed, pointing to the other side of the room. “It’s him!”

“Him” was a tall, thickly muscled, black-haired youth in maintenance overalls, if Jase was looking at the same person Lucas was. There was nobody else in the vicinity that could mean “him” unless the man in question was wearing a dress and hairnet.

“Who?” Jase asked, catching some of the tension vibrating through Lucas.

“The guy who attacked us at NSUC. He pulled a knife on Melissa.”

The word knife cut Jase as deeply as the physical object would have. Macy’s parents had been stabbed to death. What were the odds? “Are you sure?”

“I swear it’s him,” Lucas growled.

Jase was still forming and discarding plans when the kid looked up and saw them. Any question as to his identity disappeared when his eyes bulged and he dropped his toolbox and ran. Next time, Jase thought as he bolted after him, he’d take Lucas at his word.

For being as large as he was, the kid was fast. Lucas began in the lead, but Jase pulled ahead when they entered the long straight hall that was the backbone of the underground maze. The kid ate up the distance in long strides, but Jase was in good shape. He closed the gap between them quickly, and his fingers brushed the back of the kid’s collar just as he crashed into and through an exit door. Sunlight stabbed at Jase’s eyes, and he lost his grip.

He heard several gasps, then an excited murmur. Blinking to clear his vision, he found himself on a pool deck, surrounded by hotel guests. They weren’t underground at all, just on a sealed lower level. His confusion gave the kid the break he needed, and he disappeared around the corner, up a palm-lined path, long arms pumping.

Before Jase could follow, Lucas flew through the door and careened into him. Jase caught him around the waist, but they both went down anyway.

“Sorry.” Lucas untangled himself from a pool chair and rolled away, rubbing his left knee “Where is he?”

Jase waved in the direction of the path. “Gone. Got away from me.”

“Fuck!” Lucas grabbed a plastic ashtray off a patio table and hurled it into the pool.

Jase sat with his elbows on his knees, breathing heavily. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Lucas stood with his hands on his hips. “Now what?”

Jase lifted a hand, and Lucas yanked him to his feet. His hip and shoulder protested, and his back gave a warning twinge. As tempting as it was to say that he was getting too old for this shit, he had no clue how old he really was. Perhaps it was more appropriate to say this shit was getting old. “Now we head back to the laundry room and find out who that was.”

The complement of maids frowned and pursed their lips at Lucas, but, of course, they smiled and chattered in Spanish at Jase. He hadn’t a clue what they were saying, but Lucas seemed to be following along. Then one of them spit out a name—Colin—and another word that Jase didn’t know. The other women nodded.

“The guy’s name is Colin,” Lucas said, translating. “He’s a temp but good with tools, so the manager keeps him on almost full-time. They’ve heard rumors he supplies drugs to the guests, the teenagers, but nobody’s actually seen a deal go down.”

A connection, if a flimsy one. “Does he have any friends on the staff?”

One of the women stepped forward, answering in accented but fluent English. “Nobody anymore. But he used to eat lunch with Tony, before he was fired.”

“Tony,” Lucas repeated. “Also on maintenance?”

“Pool maintenance,” she said with a nod.

“Why was Tony fired?” Jase asked.

In her rush to answer, she fell back into Spanish. Lost, Jase looked to Lucas while some of the other women wandered away, shaking their heads in disgust. “He came to work high,” Lucas said. “Caused enough of a scene that they all got in trouble. She said he’s back cleaning out bilges at the Riverwalk, where he belongs.”

Jase scanned the sea of unhappy faces. “Popular guy. What does Tony look like?”

Lucas asked another question, this time in Spanish, only stumbling over the words a little, but the reaction was instantaneous. Several of the women began talking at once, gesturing with their hands, pointing to their faces and hair.

“He’s tall, but not as tall as Colin. Brown hair and blue eyes. Thick around the waist and strong. He could push several loaded carts at once.” His eyes smoldered. “Sound familiar?”

“Yeah.” It could be the second guy he’d seen the other night at the hospital. The one at the top of the stairs in the courtyard. For the first time since they’d lost Macy hours before, Jase let a sliver of hope take hold. They were closing in. “What’s this Riverwalk?”

Lucas thanked the women and took Jase’s arm, spinning him to the exit. “It’s the port in Naples where the Key tour boats dock.”

“The same boats that are running drugs?” Jase asked. Lucas’s expression was answer enough. “And he’s there cleaning out bilges.”

“And whatever else might be hiding in the boat, I’m guessing.” They headed down the corridor at a jog, tacitly agreeing to use the closest exit—the door to the pool that Colin had escaped through earlier.

They followed a set of curving steps up to a glass door, reentering the hotel not far from the elevators they’d used earlier. Here, it was business as usual—and the business was pleasure. Dodging golf bags, they sprinted past the boutiques and restaurants that lined the main lobby’s atrium. The same valet stood patiently by the Jetta. “Now, that’s five-star service,” Lucas said, snatching the keys before Jase could. He jumped behind the wheel. “Coming, slow poke?”

Jase opened the door and fell inside as Lucas pulled sharply away from the curb. The door slammed, missing his toes by inches and the silver Mercedes beside them by less. The Jetta flew down the hill and into traffic. Matching convertibles laid on their horns as Lucas executed a clumsy U-turn through the intersection, bouncing like a pogo stick over the speed bumps.

Jase kept one hand on the door and one on the dash until the car settled into the left lane, doing at least fifty on a road that had a posted limit of twenty-five. “Easy, Lucas. We don’t have time to get pulled over.”

“You’ll get me out of it though, right? My insurance will go through the roof if I get a speeding ticket.”

Again with the jokes that weren’t jokes. Lucas’s smile was intact but grim. They had a purpose now—a destination. Jase understood his urgency. “Put on your seat belt, and I’ll think about it,” Jase said.

With a huff, Lucas obeyed, and they raced across the little island, over the bridge and back onto the mainland. Lucas hunched over the wheel like a NASCAR driver, tense, as if they were traveling two hundred miles per hour instead of seventy. Jase kept quiet, letting him concentrate.

Would they find Macy at the Riverwalk? His inability to sense that they were moving in the right direction took on ominous meaning. He’d found her at the hospital; she’d been a beacon then. At some point he’d lost her. When? And why?

Because she’s dead.

All he could do was hope that wasn’t true.

* * *

At the southern tip of Naples, the Gordon River widened and spilled into the Gulf of Mexico. The Riverwalk marina owned the land around the wide delta, which boasted some of the deepest inland water in over thirty miles of coastland. Slips rented for a small fortune. Like most places in Naples, it had a touristy side and a dark side.

Lucas did his best to fill Jase in on the layout of the marina as they drove.

“There’s what the real estate agents like to call a ‘charming, crafty shopping district, brimming with local flavor’ on one side. That’s Tin City. I’ve heard it referred to less kindly—junk warehouse, for one—but if it brings the tourists and separates them from their money, they can call it whatever they want. There are several restaurants, some open-air, right on the pier. You can motor up and order a mai tai, if the mood takes you. In the same channel, but on the deepwater side, are the large tour boats, the ones that handle the day cruises down to Key West.” He swiped a hand over his face. “It’s a jumble of buildings and jetties; there’s no real order to the place. They kind of added on as business expanded.”

“So, disorganized and confusing?” Jase asked. That could work in their favor. Or be a serious disadvantage.

“Disorganized in how it’s laid out. Confusing for sure. As for the larger docks that the tour companies use, I’m not sure. Getting close without being noticed might be tricky.”

“Who says we don’t want to get noticed?” Jase arched a brow at Lucas. “The quicker we find someone who knows something, the better.”

“Yeah,” Lucas drawled, “true, but forgive me if that feels a bit like jumping into the lion’s den with a bag of catnip.”

A full, honest laugh bubbled up Jase’s throat. It was nothing to reach across the console and set his hand on Lucas’s knee. Lucas jumped, and the car swerved, but at least some of the bunched knots in his shoulders eased.

“Man,” Lucas said around a nervous laugh. “The strangest things turn you on.”

Not so strange, really. And not many people could make him laugh. Or refuse him. So was it really so strange that he wanted to ride this thing with Lucas for all it was worth? He slid his fingers higher.

“Stop that.” Lucas dropped his hand over Jase’s.

“I’d rather not.”

“And I’d rather not die in a ten-year-old Volkswagen, so quit it.” Lucas tipped his head back, heavy-lidded eyes fixed on the road.

Jase studied him, entranced by the coiled energy that lurked beneath Lucas’s lazy demeanor. “You like your job, don’t you? Working with children.”

Shooting Jase a suspicious glance, Lucas said, “Okay. If you want small talk, I’ll go along. I love my job. Except, you know, when one of my kids gets kidnapped and the angel sent to help me rescue her is really hot.”

“You don’t like that part?”

“I think...” Lucas licked his lips. “I think that part is very dangerous.”

Jase smiled, caressing Lucas’s leg. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

As soon as he said the words, his stomach flipped. He pressed a tight fist to his abdomen, clenching his teeth against the urge to vomit. The pain passed a few seconds later, and Jase took an experimental breath.

What the hell had that been?

“Don’t make promises you’re not sure you can keep,” Lucas said quietly.

Chagrined, Jase pulled his hand back. These past few days had made him into a person he barely recognized. Lucas turned him inside out, much the same way his birth seven years ago had—without the fear, but with all the questions.

“I don’t understand you,” Jase said, an uncomfortable mix of embarrassed and aroused.

Lucas’s lips twitched. “I’ll speak slower from now on.”

Only by curling his hands into fists did Jase stop himself from reaching across the seat again. He was in way over his head, and they hadn’t even hit the water yet.

* * *

Lucas roamed the parking lot, scanning the rows for a spot big enough for the Jetta. Most were so narrow that Jase wondered if they’d even be able to get out of the car once they did find a space.

“Aha!” Lucas called, spotting an SUV pulling out three cars up. “Jackpot. Hopefully you’re not claustrophobic.”

Jase barely squeezed out without scratching the immaculate paint job on the Infiniti parked next to them. Lucas took no such care, banging his door into the Cadillac flanking the driver’s side.

“Where to?” Jase asked when they met around the back of the vehicle. Across the parking lot, calypso music blared from three long metal buildings. Each of the structures boasted a variety of colorful signs and awnings. The last, perched on the very edge of the water, was bordered on three sides by a wide-plank wooden dock. Dining tables dotted the area, empty, but it was only late morning. Watchful pelicans stood guard on nearby pilings. The rhythmic smack of water
on wood kept time with the steel drums blaring from the loudspeakers. Beneath the aroma of fried food was the distinct smell of fish.

“Welcome to Tin City.” Lucas donned a pair of reflective sunglasses and set his hands on his hips. “Where you can max your credit cards in under an hour and get absolutely nothing of value in return. Unless you hit Master Bait and Tackle Shop. Their T-shirts are worth their weight in gold on eBay.” He winked at Jase. “We’re going this way.”

He pointed to the other side of the waterway, where a series of piers formed a complex crisscross. A tall, open building stretched fifty yards across the shore, also hanging over the water in places. Boats of all shapes and sizes filled the slips, from one-man sailboats to fifty-foot two-masters. At the far end, nearest the dark blues of the deep water, stood two huge cruisers, white and sleek. Naples-Keys Cruises was painted in tall script on the side of both.

Jase whistled. “How many people can those take?”

“Fifty, maybe?” Lucas shrugged. “Total cash cow business, and I’m not even counting what they earn from the cocaine. Come on.”

Lucas took off down the dock and Jase followed, squinting against the bright morning sun. “What’s your plan, exactly?” he asked as they strolled closer to the waterfront.

“I have a plan?” Lucas glanced at him, but it was difficult to judge his expression behind the sunglasses. “No clue. Keep an eye out for either of our guys, I guess. If that fails, ask around and see if anybody knows who they are and where they might be.”

Jase nodded. He wouldn’t call it rocket science, but it was remarkably straightforward. Simple enough that they might even hit pay dirt.

They stepped onto the dock, Jase’s sneakers squeaking on the damp planks. This close to the water, gulls swooped close, their screeches a jarring counterpoint to the music drifting across the channel from Tin City. They passed several fishing boats tying up after their early morning run, but few people, and made it out to the cruisers without being challenged.

Lucas glanced around, then checked his watch. “The boats don’t normally leave until after lunch, but I thought somebody would be here by now.”

Jase pointed to the glassed-in office in the building above. Tan mini-blinds obscured the interior, but the door bore the same name as the boats: Naples-Keys Cruises. “Want to see if somebody’s home up there?”

Lucas shrugged. “Works for me.”

They backtracked to the marina building and began the climb. The stairs doubled back once, hugging the wall, so that they lost sight of the landing above until they were on the steps directly below the office, and by then it was too late. Jase heard Lucas say, “Excuse me,” as he topped the landing. Three steps behind, Jase came around the railing just in time to see the fugitive Colin pull a gun from the deep pocket of his surfer shorts and point it at Lucas.

Even through his rising panic, Jase felt a bolt of excitement. If Colin was here, then maybe Macy was close.

Lucas, still as a statue with his hands in the air, said something soft and nonthreatening, but Colin never wavered. Jase opened his mouth, intending to say, “Put the gun down.” Before he could, pain exploded behind his ear. The world tilted and the dock rushed up to meet his cheek.

“Lucas?” His voice slurred and wetness seeped into his eye. When the world took on a red tint, he realized it was blood. Footsteps came into view, worn sneakers ripped out at the toe and bound together with leather ties instead of shoelaces. Jase ordered his head to turn, but it felt as though it were stuffed full of cotton.

“Jase!” he heard Lucas yell. “Jase!”

“Don’t shout,” he said, then closed his eyes.