Lavender Beach (34 page)

He began looking around for a napkin to use to get rid of the makeup on his face. “In a way. You’re my assistant. All I need is to find the right angle, an elevated rise in the landscape where I can look down into the compound and focus on the out buildings, the meth lab, and the entry gate. You lead me to that kind of area and I’ll get you the best shots.”

“Brilliant,” she repeated. “I love it. You’re like that character, Robert Kincaid, in
The Bridges of Madison County
. But instead of doing a photographic essay on old bridges, you’re looking for old barns.”

“Let’s just hope we won’t need either story.”

Twenty minutes later, Eastlyn brought the Ford to a stop in an old asphalt parking lot.

“This is different than where I waited for you last night,” Cooper noted.

“And should make our story more believable. If you check the map, you’ll discover Cleef’s old barn is about a half-mile from here. But we’re going to take off walking in that direction.” She pointed south and to the east.

Loading up the rucksack and camera case and the other supplies, they started out through the brush like pack mules. The dark woods beckoned ahead. Unlike the night before when it was foggy and misty, tonight the sky was clear with twinkling stars overhead.

Up the first gentle slope, to the tune of crickets and night peepers, Eastlyn whispered, “No more talking from this point forward.”

“What do we do, use hand signals?” Cooper joked. To highlight the query, he pointed two fingers at his eyes and then turned them toward Eastlyn like he’d seen people do in the movies. The gesture meant, “I see you.”

She cracked up with laughter and playfully tapped him on the shoulder. “Shhh, quit clowning around now or you’ll give us away.”

She took out a GPS, motioned for him to follow her down the incline. They hiked onto what looked like a well-worn trailhead, then deviated to a more obscure path, tangled with vines and underbrush.

They came to a shallow stream with pretty moss-covered rocks. Water birch and box elder were thickest here, along with trailing ivy and fan palm. They sloshed through the water where the creek tapered into a narrow inlet as it twisted and turned into thicker scrub.

They waded into a labyrinth of boulders until coming out on the other side. Eastlyn pointed to a hill and then made a gesture downward, indicating the compound was below the ridge.

Hugging the side of the slope, Cooper trailed after her as they both inched their way to the edge before it dropped off into a basin. The valley below was wide enough to hold the series of buildings and homes that made up the compound.

He peered over the crest, spotted the fence surrounding the property, the barbed wire keeping outsiders from breaching the border. He spotted activity below, a campfire, an assortment of cars and trucks parked within the circle of fence.

The encampment was massive in size and scope. Counting heads, Eastlyn decided it had to be home to at least fifteen families. Children ran around the fire as if it were the best summer camp experience of their young lives. It was hard to believe these kids had parents who’d taken to cooking meth as a source of income.

Cooper took out his Nikon, zoomed in, aiming his lens on the bivouacked inhabitants below. From this perspective Eastlyn could see what she’d missed last night. There were indeed guards stationed every forty feet or so along the inside perimeter. Their positions couldn’t be seen from the cabin where she’d been last night.

But they could definitely have seen her.

After forty-five minutes, Eastlyn motioned for Coop to slide back down the hill.

As surveillance went, the endeavor had generated a disk full of pictures. But they still had to get off that ridge without anyone detecting their presence.

Before Cooper could pack up the gear, that proved to be tricky. Eastlyn caught sight of one of the guards staring up at them on the peak. Through the binoculars she studied the lookout while the lookout did the same to her. She signaled Cooper to remain perfectly still, and waited, trying to determine if they’d been spotted. 

But when the guard didn’t sound an alarm, she tapped Cooper on the shoulder and indicated for them to get out of there.

But then the dogs inside the compound started barking. It was as if the place lit up like a Christmas tree. The other side of the knoll was swathed in bright light. Gunshots rang out. A bullet whizzed past Eastlyn’s ear.

Her military training kicked in. She reached for the small revolver she’d strapped to her ankle, just in case Thorwald’s men charged.

They moved quickly down the hillside. Using the GPS, Eastlyn led the way back through the thick brush. She estimated it would take at least ten minutes for the guards to catch up with them, maybe longer. It gave them a scant head start. She used that time to scuttle through dense thickets in the dark, finally picking up the path they’d taken earlier.

They heard dogs in the distance, which meant they needed to keep up the pace.

Forging ahead, they came to the little stream again, and rushed across the water. From there, Eastlyn was able to locate the trailhead, which led them back to the Bronco.

Cooper started up the engine about the same time a rifle shot pinged off the pavement. He peeled out of the lot about the time two men emerged from the forest of trees.

Back home in
Cooper’s study, the adrenaline still pumped through their veins from the close call. While Cooper downloaded the pictures from his camera disk to his laptop, Eastlyn paced. The only time she stopped was to peer over his shoulder, impatient, to check his progress.

A time or two she stopped to appreciate the quality of his work. “Man, you got some good shots. You can even make out faces, license plates, and detail.” 

“I’m glad you approve of my work.”

“Approve? You could pick up some extra bucks with that zoom lens as a member of the paparazzi.”

The doorbell sang out and Eastlyn immediately thumped her head. “Uh-oh. I think in all the excitement I forgot to meet Brent like I promised.”

Sure enough, when Cooper didn’t answer fast enough whoever was out in the courtyard started pounding on the door.

Cooper flung it back to see Brent Cody agitated and pissed off. “Is Eastlyn here?”

Eastlyn stuck her head into the other room, immediately remorseful. “I’m sorry. Calling you completely slipped my mind. But we had a situation.”

“So you’re okay?”

“I am now.”

Brent sent Cooper a long aggravated gaze. “What do you mean ‘we’ had a situation? You went with her, didn’t you?” He turned his rage on Eastlyn. “You told him. So much for keeping your mouth shut.”

“I didn’t want her going out there alone. Besides, I’m a photographer, taking pictures is what I do for a living.” To prove it, Cooper shoved the ones he’d already printed into Brent’s chest. “These are good enough for you to get an idea what the inside of that compound looks like and who lives there.”

“Now these are detailed. Let’s have a look at the rest,” Brent uttered, following Cooper into the other room and to the laptop set up on the desk. “Now we’re talking.”

“That’s the beauty of the right filter and a zoom lens. Look at this one. If I’m not mistaken the camera caught this guy making a buy. Who knows how much meth is in those bags he’s loading up in his truck?”

Brent’s eyes bugged out. “It looks like he’s counting out cash for the buy.”

“Yeah, if I remember correctly I thought at the time it seemed close to three grand.”

Eastlyn noticed Brent’s jaw lock. “Do you recognize him?”

“Yeah, his name’s Titus Driscoll. He lives in Pelican Pointe right around the corner from the elementary school.”

“Our school? Then you just found your connection.”

“You guys found it. I never thought Titus would stoop so low as to get himself mixed up with drugs.”

“What’s Driscoll’s story?”

“He did serve time back in his early twenties for a couple of burglaries. I thought he’d put crime behind him. I guess not.”

Eastlyn ran a hand through her mop of hair. “You know, I hate to point this out to you, but this Driscoll guy probably isn’t limiting his activity to San Sebastian.”

“That’s why we need to find out all the places Titus frequents. I already know he hangs out quite a bit at McCready’s.”

“Maybe that should be your starting point. Although what sense does it make to go after Titus if you let Thorwald continue his operation?”

Brent frowned. “I have no intention of letting Thorwald continue.”

“So this is it? I’m done in law enforcement? If so, my career will probably go down in some record book as having the shortest shelf life ever.”

Brent patted her shoulder. “No need to worry. For now, you’re my number one part-time officer.”

“Hey, I’m you’re only officer.”

“That, too. Between the two of us, we’ll keep an eye on Titus.”

“What do I do?” Cooper asked.

Eastlyn ran a hand down his arm. “You show me how to take these kinds of pictures and I’ll be forever grateful.”

Twenty-Three

C
hildren and lazy summer days seemed to go hand in hand. High on the list of things for them to do, hanging out at the beach ranked tops among their favorite.

That’s why this Sunday parents had crammed the shoreline with their kids in tow. They stretched out on beach towels, blankets, and lawn chairs. They brought coolers packed with ice cold drinks and prepared for a day of swimming and surfing.

It was no secret that teenage girls, like Sonoma and Sonnet Rafferty, mostly preferred sunbathing to getting wet. They tended to migrate toward their respective cliques in packs and took up a lot of beach. They also had no trouble attracting teenage boys like gnats. All the girls had to do was show up wearing a skimpy bikini, slather sun tan lotion all over their bodies, lounge around on a stingy towel, and their male counterparts flocked around them in protective mode like guard dogs.

It was the opposite thinking for energetic eight-year-old boys. They liked to stay in the water as long as possible. But even they had to come onshore eventually. It was impractical to expect to spend all day floating in the waves.

But rambunctious grade-schoolers on land didn’t mix well with teen girls spread out and taking up valuable room on the ground. It seemed whenever the kids got around the teenagers, trouble brewed. The crowds around the girls made it almost impossible to find enough room to run around and play. For three energetic grade-schoolers like Jonah Delacourt, Tommy Gates, and Bobby Prather, war games and sand football were best played with a lot of space to roam.

Crowded space meant three active boys couldn’t toss a football around without bumping into someone. Bumping into people, especially the teenage girls, brought complaints. If someone wanted to run a pass route or build a fort or even play combat with their army men and action figures, they had to put up with bitching and moaning just because their toys flew through the air and hit someone on the nose.

So after getting yelled at for the umpteenth time by several older teens, Jonah, Tommy, and Bobby decided to move on to someplace else.

“I’m bored with playing army anyway,” Tommy grumbled.

“Me too,” Jonah said in agreement. “If we can’t sand bomb the troops without a bunch of girls squealing on us to their boyfriends, what’s the point?”

“I wish the movie theater was open,” Bobby moaned. “Since your mom and dad own the thing, we could spend the day in there.”

“Nah,” Jonah said. “They’d probably show some stupid love story movie that nobody but girls wants to see.”

“Then what do we do now?” Tommy wanted to know with slumped shoulders. “I’m bored and tired of getting yelled at.”

“I know what we can do,” Jonah piped up. “Let’s go see if Dr. Bennett will take us out on the
Moonlight Mile
and give us a tour of the bay
.
”

The
Moonlight Mile
was a fifty-foot, renovated fishing trawler the Rescue Center used for a research vessel. The boat was kept docked on the south side of Smuggler’s Bay directly behind the animal enclosure.