Fatal Disclosure (21 page)

“Island Connection Bed-and-Breakfast. May I help you?”

“Treasury, this is Mark. I’ve called Betsy’s cell phone several times, but she’s not answering. Do you know if she’s in her studio?”

“I haven’t seen her since lunch when she went upstairs. She’s probably busy and has her phone turned off.”

Mark pursed his lips. “I need to talk to her. Will you tell her to call me?”

“I’ll be glad to do that. I’ll go upstairs in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Treasury. I appreciate it.”

He disconnected the call just as the door opened. Scott stuck his head in and smirked. “Are you ready to bust some drug dealers?”

Mark nodded. “I’ve waited for this day for months. I only wish John could be here with us.”

He followed Scott and Brock out the front door and climbed into Scott’s squad car. As they rode to the ferry terminal, excitement overtook him. It was always this way when a long case was about to end. He just had to make sure nothing went wrong and jeopardized months of work.

As they neared the boarding area for the ferry, rain began to hit the roof of the car. He stared out the window at the wind blowing through the trees. Apparently they were going to get wet. His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. He pulled it from his pocket. “Hello.”

“Mark, this is Treasury. I can’t find Betsy anywhere. She’s not in her studio.”

His stomach knotted with fear. “Did you see her leave?”

“No, but I looked outside, and her car is gone.” A sob cut off the last word. “Oh, Mark, where is she and why would she have left?”

“I don’t know, Treasury. But don’t worry. Scott and I will find her. If she comes home before we get there, make her stay.”

“I will, even if I have to tie her to a chair.”

He disconnected the call and glanced at Scott. “Betsy’s not at Treasury’s.”

Scott’s face grew white. “Why would she go out when there’s a bad storm coming in?”

Mark clenched his fists. “I don’t know.”

He wanted to tell Scott to turn the car around so they could find Betsy, but he couldn’t. They had a job to do right now, and finding Betsy would have to wait. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Scott’s lips move, and he knew Betsy’s brother had just sent a plea to God for the safety of his sister.

Ahead Mark could see the cars lined up waiting to board the ferry. Scott sped past the vehicles and skidded to a stop at the front of the line. Brock pulled in behind him, and another squad car rolled to a stop beside them. The ferry sat at its berth ready to begin boarding.

Brock jumped out and ran to Scott’s car. “I’ll tell the captain there’s going to be a delay. The truck from Will’s gallery is about halfway back in line. Block it in with the squad cars so they can’t get away.”

Scott radioed the other car and within seconds the truck was surrounded. Without taking time to don any rain gear, Mark and Scott jumped out, their guns trained on the driver of the vehicle. The rain splattered against Mark as he stepped outside, but he didn’t hesitate. He ran to the truck, jerked the door open and pointed his gun at the man behind the wheel.

“Get out and place your hands on the side of the truck!” A look of panic flashed across the man’s face. Mark took a step closer. “Now!”

The man climbed out, turned, and pressed his hands against the side of the truck. Scott grabbed his arms and cuffed his hands behind his back. Deputy Hamilton pulled the keys from the ignition and within seconds had unlocked the back door of the truck and had climbed inside.

Rain trickled down Mark’s face, but he didn’t move. He wiped it out of his eyes and kept his gun trained on his prisoner. It only took a few minutes before he heard what he’d been waiting months to hear. “I found cocaine. Lots of it. And that’s only in the first crate.”

Scott stepped up to the prisoner. “It looks like you’re under arrest, mister.” He took the man by the arm and marched him to the squad car. “You have the right to remain silent…”

Mark heard Scott read the prisoner his rights, but he couldn’t concentrate. He stared at the long line of cars waiting to board the ferry. One of those vehicles also contained drugs. But how was he going to figure out which one it was?

Brock ran up at that moment. “The ferry captain says the worst part of this storm hasn’t hit yet. He wants to leave as soon as possible so he can stay ahead of it. Any idea on which cars we should start searching?”

Lightning flashed overhead, and the trees at the edge of the boarding area bent in the wind. Now sheets of rain blew across the asphalt. Mark squinted at the waiting cars. There had to be at least thirty cars, if not more, lined up to leave the island. Any one of them could be driven by smugglers.

He shook his head and sighed. “Let’s start checking each one. Look for anything suspicious. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Brock ran to the back of the line, and Mark turned toward the front. Rain dripped off his nose and chin, and he wiped it away. A chill prickled his skin. If he let those drugs get off the island, they would spread their poison into the lives of thousands of people. He couldn’t let that happen.

He squared his shoulders and approached the first car.

FIFTEEN

B
etsy strained against the ropes binding her hands behind her back, but it was no use. Her foolish decision to leave Treasury’s had landed her in a terrible fix. At the moment, she lay tied and gagged in the hull of a boat transporting her to her death. Her clothes were soaked from the driving rain, but she knew from past experience the storm would only get worse. She would be left alone to drown in a concrete hole in a sandbar, and the only people who knew of her predicament were determined she would die. She suspected that would happen shortly.

The man at the controls of the boat cut the engine and glanced at his friend sitting beside him. “You need me to help you get her in the blind?”

He shook his head. “I think I can manage. Just be ready to get out of here. This rain is coming down harder, and I want to get back to shore.”

He bent over, jerked her to her feet and threw her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. His muscles bulged under his shirt, and she squirmed to make carrying her more difficult. It didn’t appear to bother him.

As if he was going for an afternoon stroll, he stepped out of the boat onto the submerged sandbar. Betsy could see the water lapping at his legs, and her heart dropped into her stomach. Usually when she came out to the curtain blinds, the water was only ankle deep. Now the water reached halfway to his knees.

He sloshed through the water to the curtain blind, shifted her from his shoulder, and dumped her into the blind. She gritted her teeth at the pain as she tumbled downward, her arms and legs scraping against the concrete sides of the box built to accommodate two standing hunters. When she hit the bottom, she tried to push to her feet but she couldn’t. Her body lay wedged in the small enclosure.

The sound of splintering wood sent terror flooding through her. The man towered over the pit and hammered at the curtain surrounding the top of the enclosure. A silent scream welled up in Betsy’s throat, but only a choking sound escaped her gagged mouth.

When he’d torn the complete curtain away, he glanced at the surrounding water and then leered down at her. “I guess that about does it, Miss Michaels. The tide’s getting higher. With no curtain to keep the water out, I don’t think it’ll be long before it’ll all be over for you.” He shook his head and directed a smirk in her direction. “You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble if you’d just done what we asked. Goodbye.”

He disappeared from her sight, and Betsy listened to the boat motor grow faint in the distance. Hoping they would change their minds and return for her, she waited and listened but only heard the raging wind. She gazed upward and cringed at the jagged lightning streaks flashing across the sky. Claps of thunder shattered the air as the storm clouds moved closer to her watery prison.

The rain had already dumped several inches of water in the bottom of the blind, and Betsy knew she had to stand up. She wiggled around in the bottom of the concrete box until she was able to plant her feet on the bottom. Then, bracing her back against the wall, she slowly pushed up the side of the blind until she stood on her feet. Now able to see over the top, she stared at the water rising higher all around. At least she was able to see the storm that was growing more intense by the moment.

She didn’t have time to celebrate her small victory before a huge wave poured over the sandbar and hit her full force. Gasping for air, she fell back to the bottom of the box into what now appeared to be several more inches of water. She lay there a moment trying to catch her breath, but instinct told her she had to get up. Better to die trying to find a way out than to lie still and wait for death.

Summoning all her strength, she pushed upright again until she could once more see the rising water. She spotted another wave headed her way and crouched below the rim of the box to avoid being hit. More water poured into the bottom and rose to her knees.

The water had soaked the cloth over her mouth, and she worked her jaw up and down in an effort to loosen the knot tied at the back of her head. She felt it slip a little. Bracing her head against the side of the blind, she rubbed the knot over the concrete until it loosened, and the gag slipped off her mouth. A few twitches with her chin and the cloth slid down to circle her neck.

She pushed to her feet once more, turned her face up to the drenching rain, and stared into the heavens. Rain pelted her, but she gazed upward. “God, I’m scared. Help me.”

A memory of sitting beside her mother on the beach a few months before her death drifted into her mind. That day her mother had talked about dying and how she wasn’t afraid. The words she’d spoken then drifted into Betsy’s mind, and she could almost feel her mother’s presence.
“I’ve trusted God all my life. Now I’m ready to trust Him after death.”

Her mother had known there was no hope left for her life just as Betsy knew she was about to die. Her chin quivered, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She looked up at the dark clouds, took a deep breath and offered up a prayer for God to watch over her family after she was gone.

* * *

Mark stopped at the back of the line of cars waiting to board the ferry. He’d walked by every one of them, and nothing had appeared out of the ordinary. Most of them contained families who were anxious about the coming storm and wanted to get to the mainland as soon as possible. His gaze drifted over the roofs of the cars barely visible now in the pouring rain. There had to be something he was missing. Drugs were hidden in one of those cars, but he had no idea which one.

Brock and Scott, wearing their yellow rain slickers, jogged from the front of the line and came to a stop beside him. Brock pulled his hat lower, and a stream of water poured to the ground. “Don’t you want a rain suit?”

Mark shook his head. “It won’t do any good now. I’m already soaked.” He narrowed his eyes and stared at the waiting cars once more. “Those drugs are here somewhere. But where?”

“I don’t know,” Brock said. “I thought we might see something suspicious right away. Since we haven’t, we have to look further. I’ll go tell the captain we aren’t going to load until we complete a search of every car.”

Mark groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s going to take some time, and I hate to keep all these families here. But I don’t see how it can be helped.”

Brock nodded and turned toward the boat. “I’ll be back to help. Go on and start with the first car and have Hamilton go from the back. Make sure nobody leaves until we’re finished.”

Scott nodded. “Will do.” He turned to Mark. “Let’s get started.”

Mark followed Scott toward the front of the line. As he passed each car, he glanced inside. If only his gaze could penetrate metal, he could see where the drugs were hidden. Only action heroes could do that, and he was no hero. He’d thought he was a good agent, but he’d failed John Draper. If he had arrived a few minutes earlier at Springer’s Point, John might still be alive, and Betsy might not have been put in harm’s way.

He wiped the rain out of his eyes and wrinkled his brow as thoughts of that day at Springer’s Point returned. Thanks to John’s hard work, they now had the flash drive he’d downloaded and what appeared to be legitimate businesses would be raided within the next hours. His job on Ocracoke would be completed if he could find the drugs and arrest the smugglers.

He stopped at the first car and motioned for the man inside to roll down his window. The man frowned and complied. “Why are we being held up here? I’m in a hurry to get to Swan Quarter. I have an appointment this afternoon.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but we’re going to have to…” He stopped mid-sentence as his gaze locked on several wooden carvings in the backseat. He remembered seeing them in Luke’s gallery when he’d been there.

The man frowned and glanced over his shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

“Where did you get those carvings?”

“At Luke Butler’s place. I like his work. I have a big collection of his decoys.”

Decoys.

The word echoed in Mark’s mind. What had John said to Betsy? He searched his mind before it came to him.
Tell him decoys not what they seem.

What kind of message was John trying to send with his last breath? Betsy had told him she was calling the sheriff. Maybe he wanted her to tell them the smugglers would be able to fool them just like an unsuspecting duck who thinks he sees a friend bobbing on the water.

Mark thought back to the people he’d seen in the cars. Who would be the least likely to be accused of smuggling drugs? His gaze lit on an SUV about five car lengths back, and he knew.

“Scott,” he yelled. “Come with me.”

He clenched his fists and strode toward the vehicle. The window rolled down as soon as he stopped beside it. A smiling Miranda Walton greeted him. “Lizzy, look who’s here. It’s that nice young man we met. Can I help you?”

For a moment Mark couldn’t speak. The two women cast puzzled looks at each other. Doubt whirled in his mind. How could two retired schoolteachers be smugglers? They were the least suspicious of anyone else in line. Exactly, he thought. Who would suspect two elderly women?