Bonefish Blues (9 page)

“It’ll just take a minute. Can you grab that spotlight?” He idled the boat around to where he thought the pipe should be and shone the light in the water. “Look, there’s a pipe coming out of the sand there.” He pointed.

She followed the shape of the pipe, partly buried in the sand, with the spotlight as they moved away from the island and toward the mainland. 

The light was fading, the pipeline invisible now, but he followed the direction the pipeline had been heading. Cody’s boat was directly in the path of the pipeline and the mainland. 

“What the hell Will. I’m on this spot,” Cody yelled as they approached his boat. “The other anglers chimed in with him.”

“No problem, just having a look around,” Will called back not wanting any conflict with or without Sheryl. He turned the boat and pushed down the throttle. 

“We’ve got limits,” Will heard Cody yell to his charter, “What do you say we have some fun.”

Chapter 11

The engine noise made conversation difficult as they rode back each thinking about what they had seen. Will didn’t push the boat; ruining his propeller by hitting an object invisible in the dark was not in his budget. One of the traits that made him a good fishermen was being able to see things that weren’t apparent. Most experienced fishermen made the connection between bottom structure and fish, but Will could take it several steps further by envisioning where the fish would hold and at what depth and direction they would be facing at each phase of the tide and when they fed. It was also a trait that helped in his carpentry, allowing him to see things in a virgin piece of wood. In his mind he put together the tank, the pipeline and Cody’s fishing spot. It was too connected to be anything else, father and son on each end. Braken and Scarface were using the tanks to dump bodies and Cody was using the decomposing bodies as chum to attract fish. 

Sheryl was watching the lights on the shoreline pass by. He liked the fact that she could be close and stay in her own head; unlike Nicole who chatted incessantly. The quiet was broken by the roar of an outboard approaching. 

Will looked back and saw the green and red bow lights coming straight behind them. The boat was cruising faster than he was, using the flat water between their wake to gain. He figured it was just some drunk tourist, as the boat came close enough to read the registration numbers on its bow before pulling to the left and crashing through their wake. 

But it wasn’t a drunk tourist. It was the Grady White with Cody at the wheel bearing down on them. 

They watched as Cody and the other men leered at them, laughing as the boat pulled even for a second before pulling ahead and cutting them off. The bow of Will’s low-riding flats boat crashed through the wake instead of over it, dumping water into the boat. 

Will’s first reaction was to slow down and let Cody pass by, but he needed to keep speed up to allow the self-bailing boat to shed the water. Ahead, the green light shown on the bow, indicating that Cody had made a turn. The boat roared back at them, running straight toward him until turning at the last minute. This time, Will slowed in time to allow the boat to ride over the wave. 

Cody started circling the smaller boat, each circle tightening like a noose, forcing Will to slow further. Waves crashed into each quarter of the boat, soaking Will and Sheryl. Without the forward momentum, the hull would not drain and the boat sank in the water. If he didn’t stop they would sink. Will leaned his head over the side to check that the bilge pump was working. A steady stream of water shot from the hull, but he knew it was not enough to keep up with the water the boat was taking on.

“He’s going to sink us!” Sheryl screamed.

“I’ve got an idea. Hang on!”

Will turned the boat toward open water and accelerated. The boat slammed through several waves created by Cody’s boat, taking on even more water, before they broke free of the wake and hit open water. The weight of the ankle-deep water in the cockpit slowed them, but with the boat now up on plane, the water was draining quickly. Will looked over his shoulder and saw Cody turn to follow, and the two boats raced into the night, the faster flats boat gaining a small lead. After a mile, the water, illuminated by the moonlight, subtly changed color. Will continued onto the flat, slowing to turn and watch Cody. He knew that the larger boat would be unable to follow him into the shallow water of the flat. If he saw it in time. They watched as the other boat made several passes, staying in the deeper water before turning toward the lights of Marathon.

“What now?” Sheryl was wrapped tight in the rain jacket, but Will could see that she was still shivering.

“He can’t get at us in here. The water is too shallow for his boat. Besides, those guys think it was funny now, but he tries anything else, they’ll be witnesses.”

“No. I mean what now, like in the big picture. He just tried to kill us didn’t he?”

Will didn’t want to go that far. Cody’s attempt may not have been homicidal, but it wasn’t a joke either. He wondered if it were just to beat on him and entertain his charter or if he knew they had found a stash of dead bodies and caught him fishing in the chum slick from them. “Maybe not kill us; more like scare us off.”

“Well, it worked.” She moved to him.

The embrace came naturally, but ended there. He held her, not sure if she was crying or not, but he was in favor of anything that avoided conversation, so he held on. After what felt like several long minutes, she pulled back and wiped at her eyes, streaked by her mascara. “I must look great.”

“Actually, you do,” he said looking at her as she removed the rain jacket. 

She smiled and wiped her eyes with her shirt. “Probably dry better without this.” 

***

They waited an hour, sitting and talking about the island and what had gone on there. Will put out his theory about Braken and Scarface, the fish bag and Cody’s fishing spot and why he had been there tonight. Cody fished slack tide. He always came back quickly, with his boat filled. Under normal circumstances, fishermen relied on the moving water created by the tide change to move food and forage. In addition to the tide, they generally used a chum bag, sending scent and small pieces of bait into the current. After twenty minutes or so, fish were attracted to the slick and the real fishing began. But the chum, if you could call it that, coming from the pipeline was best served at slack tide, when Cody knew exactly where it would be. She nodded her head as he spoke. 

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah, hopefully he’s gone now,” she said eyes scanning the surrounding water. “We need to decide what to do about this. If you’re right and they
are
dumping bodies into the tanks, we need to get the sheriff involved. I’ll call environmental health in the morning and tell them about the broken pipe.” 

“Sounds good. But something is still bothering me.”

“There’s more?”

“Why the land scam - and why now?” Will put out the untied link.

“The market has come back from its low a few years ago and interest in the sustainable thing they are trying to sell is through the roof. Why not now?”

 He nodded, turned the engine on and lifted the pole from the suction of the sand. Slowly he turned toward shore and started moving off the flat. Once clear of the shallow water, he pushed down on the throttle and headed for the canal entrance, invisible in the dark. Will went slowly hoping that Cody would be in the bar by the time they pulled in and he could avoid another confrontation. He became more uneasy as they approached the marina. His fears were realized when they pulled within a hundred yards of the dock and heard loud voices. Intoxicated from the beer, their catch, and the chase, the tourists from Cody’s charter were sitting on the dock drinking from red solo cups when Will rounded the corner and headed toward his slip. He looked up at the cleaning hut and saw Matt bent over a pile of fish. Cody was nowhere in sight as he tied off the boat.

“I’m freezing. Can I take a rain check on dinner?”

Will was relieved. Maybe he could sneak her off the dock and be out of here before Cody found out that they were back. “I’ll catch up to you tomorrow. Maybe I can meet you on your break and we can file a police report. We should do that together.”

“That’d be good. I’ll call you.”

She hopped onto the dock. He watched as she walked away, wondering if she would actually call. After everything that happened in the last few hours he wouldn’t blame her is she filed a couple of anonymous reports with the authorities and forgot about him. Maybe that was the best way for him as well. File a report with the police and go to ground until Cody cooled down. He turned away from watching her as Cody walked quickly toward him, a drunken swagger in his step. Cody weaved past Sheryl, feigning to run into her, but kept going, and she took off in a run toward the parking lot. Will watched the lot, relieved when he saw headlights and a car pull out. Satisfied that she was safe, he turned and faced Cody.

“What the hell was that all about? So I found your fishing spot. It’s not like I’m going to steal your numbers or anything.” He had decided on the ride in not to let on that they’d found the tanks. Cody had no way of knowing that they had been on the island. In his current state, he might not even realize that they followed the pipeline to his boat. Will looked at the two men approaching and realized he might have underestimated Cody.

“Dude. If I was worried about you stealing my numbers … shit,” he slurred and moved out of the way as the men approached.

“I gotta smack you again, you’re not gonna get up,” Scarface said. “You’re gonna forget everything you think you might have seen, and lose any interest in that island out there. Understand?”

Will stood speechless, not knowing what to do. Cody must have called them on his way in. Suddenly Matt came up behind the men and interrupted, “Got anything I can do for you? Clean your fish or the boat?”

The men turned to Matt, the heavy one putting an arm around his shoulder and leading him away. Scarface glared at Will again, then turned and followed. Will breathed out thankful that Matt had broken the tension and leaned against the console. He felt something brush against his leg. It was Sheryl’s messenger bag. The last thing he needed was for Cody or Scarface to discover the bag and find the map inside. That could make him the next occupant of the tank. He made motions like he was cleaning the boat and stashed the bag in the locking console below the helm. Looking around for an escape, he noticed an adjacent dock light out, the walkway dark. He moved toward it quietly, staying in the shadows until he reached the parking lot. Once out of sight, he ran to the bicycle, thankful he didn’t need to start an engine, and headed out of the lot. 

As he was about to pedal onto the road, a car came barreling toward him. It stopped short, and a head popped out the open window. “Hey, is that you, Will?” Nicole asked.

He pushed the bike toward her, shaking his head. “Not now. I gotta go. Cody’s down there drunk again. Sorry,” he added as he pushed hard on the pedal, moving the bike into the dark, not waiting for a response. He looked back once he was sure he couldn’t be seen and saw Nicole sitting there, head turned toward him. Hoping she’d get the message and move on before he was discovered, he turned and pedaled as fast as the bike would go.

Chapter 12

The men were getting impatient as Will poled the boat toward the flat. He’d gone west today, the opposite direction from Flamingo Key, and the two anglers were drinking their first beers, eager to get their lines in the water when he reached the edge of the hole. This was the first meat charter that Ned had set up for him. Without the GPS numbers most charter captains relied on, he had only his memory. Catch and release fly fishing was more about tide and covering area, and seldom required anchoring and chumming. He was more adept at reading water and drifting with the current. Over the years, though, a few fixed spots had regularly produced food for his table, and he was heading for one now. Cody might have been right when he said that a little piece of him would die every time he ran one of these charters.