The Choice (39 page)

“Sam, Jesse, we got a problem.” Diane raised the flat of her hand to gain their attention  as she pushed through the few agents dressed in full Kevlar vests, to where Sam and Jesse leaned against the back wall. A radio buzzed and crackled behind her.

“I said keep radio silence.” Diane shouted, letting loose her constantly controlled temper.

Sam pushed off the concrete wall, every nerve ending jumped as beads of sweat danced down his spine. “What’s going on?”

“We got a situation off the main dock. Some locals have taken to policing the island, and took matters into their own hands. They have some young thug in a boat about a mile off shore. An arsonist, he’s apparently been lighting fires, vandalizing property. They radioed ahead to the Sequim detachment, to come and get him. As soon as they reach the halfway point, they’re going to dump him in the ocean, whether the sheriff’s there or not. They won’t wait. Sequim doesn’t have a boat tonight. They tried to rent one, but…”

“Fuck, you got to be kidding. No, don’t you dare say it.” Sam roared and pounded his fist into the creamy paint chipped wall.

Jesse narrowed his dark eyes. His heavy brows appeared to knit together. He said nothing, crossed his arms and looked around as if trying to figure out what was really going on.

The agents in the room cleared out. “The Coast Guard has the closest boat available, they’ve been dispatched.” Sam fell in beside Diane. The pit of his stomach dropped, shooting an icy chill down through both legs, pinning his heavy feet to the ground, making it an effort to move.

“Diane, we need to be in place now.” His blood churned to a pulse that echoed deep and slow.

“Sam we don’t have a choice, these people will dump this kid and leave him to drown. The Coast Guard needs to be there before they drop him in. I’m sorry. The boat’s already been pulled. I’ve been instructed to send three of my agents along, in case there’s trouble with the locals.”

“Diane the Coast Guard’s going to be seen pulling out. This is un-fucking-believable. How could this have happened tonight of all nights? They knew, God fucking dammit, that son of a bitch knew!” Sam followed Diane out through the double doors.

“Look Sam, I know, but we need to go. As soon as the team’s grabbed this punk from the locals, they’ll be back.”

Jesse hurried past them in the same blue jeans and black windbreaker he’d worn the last couple of days. “It’s a setup to pull our people out, so the exchange can still happen, should have smelled this coming.”

Sam knew to trust his gut, and by ignoring it as he’d done, Marcie could be in danger. A well-honed man like him was rarely cold. Right now he shivered under his warm, dark jacket as if his blood turned to ice. He bolted behind Diane and Jesse, in his thick-soled black boots. Three agents appeared as a shadowy outline, hurrying to the obscure dock behind the fire hall. Lights blazed from the forty-five foot response boat as it swooped over the rough waves to the dock, where the agents waited.

“Sir, I’ve got a truck waiting.” Sam jumped and reached for his gun.

“Green, fuck…” Sam splayed his hands toward the remaining agent.

“Sam, get in here, move it. I got a really bad feeling.” Jesse yelled as he climbed in the back of the pickup truck.

“In about thirty seconds, we’re going to find out if our cover’s been completely blown.” Sam jumped in the front, shoving Diane in the middle, while baby face Green fired up the engine.

“How quick can you get us there?”

“With or without being noticed?”

Sam groaned. “Just get us there.”

“Ten minutes tops.” And he floored it.

Marcie killed the lights on her truck when she turned onto Glynn Road, a half mile from Scotty Bay. Her damp palms slipped so she tightened her grip around the wheel. This isolated part of the island was camouflaged with heavy brush and many old trees so even tonight’s bright moon couldn’t penetrate the pitch black. Branches and overgrown brush scraped the side of her truck. Bumps and ruts in the packed dirt road squealed and rattled her suspension, bouncing her old Land Cruiser up and down. It was awkward driving with a cast. Her plastic splint stuck under the gas pedal twice while she used her left foot to stomp the brake. A wild challenge and not one of the brightest things she’d ever done.

This back road trail opened into a large clearing. Marcie yanked the wheel left until a faint outline of an old slanted shack appeared. “Close enough.” She shoved the truck in park. “Okay, okay, calm down.” Her insides shook so hard she had trouble breathing.

Marcie opened her door. She could hear the waves crashing against the big rocks below. The moon was waning. The lunation tide would be extremely high. What a great night for bringing a boat in the cove. Wearing one hiking boot, dark pants and a black sweatshirt, she stepped down with her left foot, crunching the leaves and grass, keeping all weight off her injured ankle.

Shadows and darkness made her feel vulnerable. And so did soft distinct footsteps, whispering through the brush. She turned when a tall, shadowy outline cloaked in a dark hood approached under a glistening silver moon.

“Right on time, I could always count on you.”

“I’m here. Did you find the gardens I marked?”

“It’s done.”

“So now what?”

We need to make the trade, the barge is in.”

“Barge, I thought it was a boat?”

“Change of plans.”

Her breath fled, as if someone jammed a fist in her gut. “You told me a boat would be here at eleven. You’d have all the marijuana, and we’re trading it for cocaine. Are we still delivering it to your friend on the island? And what about leaving? You said we’re leaving tonight for some exotic beach. Has that changed too?” She rapped her knuckles against the open door.
Now what?

Dan stepped closer, shoving her door closed, resting his hand on top of the truck. “Stop worrying, we’re still leaving, just doing things a little bit different. Come on, trust me, Marcie.”

Why didn’t she expect this? He was famous for last minute changes, keeping her out of the loop and constantly off guard. How many times had he done this?

“Something wrong, Marcie?”

She willed the shake inside to stop. Then reached out and touched his arm. “No, nothing’s wrong. So where’s this barge?”

“It’s waiting for us down at our yacht club’s prestigious pier.” If this were another time, she’d have warmed to his sense of humor. Las Seta yacht club was an eight by eight clubhouse with rotted wood and a door with two rusty hinges thrown together by a group of renegade Las Setans ten years ago. From there, a dirt path led down to a rickety pier, hammered together by homesteaders, who
in
habited Las Seta in the early fifties.

“So what about the marijuana, is it ready to go?” Her leg ached and her stomach cramped so she rested against the truck. Dan leaned just out of reach. Something about him pulled away.
Why?

“It’s all taken care of, packaged and ready.”

“Where is it?”

“It’s in the yacht club.”

“What’s going on Dan? Come on, let’s finish this.” A voice she didn’t recognize sent a cold chill purring up her spine. A shadowy character appeared out of the dark and stood just below Dan’s shoulder. Next to Dan, he resembled a short, squat man but then most men didn’t reach Dan’s height of six feet four inches.

“Okay, let’s get this over with. Marcie, you need a hand?”

“Huh? No, I’ll just follow right behind you.” Marcie reached out, grabbed Dan’s sweatshirt and pulled him back.

“Who’s that?” She whispered the panicked words.

“That’s Donny, he’s helping out.”

“Are you crazy? You can’t bring in new people. Who else is involved, what are we walking into?” This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down. A twinge of fear escalated and so did the fight and flight instinct, pummeling up her back.

“Marcie, you’ve got to stop this. I told you to trust me. I’ve known Donny for years. He’s good. I thought we worked all this out. Do we go and finish this, or are you going to bail? Come on Marcie, trust me.” He cupped her cheek with his entire palm. There was something different about his touch.

She knew then, what she needed to do. She reached up and touched his freshly shaven cheek. “All right, but I think I need your help. Can you walk slowly, so I can hold onto you?”

He leaned down and kissed her hard, his breath minty fresh. “You got it, babe.”

Dan’s strong confidence reeked with cocky sureness. He held out his arm. Marcie slid her hand under his arm. She could feel muscles turn to steel, as he led her down a steep path. He paused for a moment looking around. She was positive he smiled in victory when he covered her hand gripping his arm and squeezed lightly. Something rustled up ahead. She couldn’t see anything in the bushes lining this part of the path. She could only sense someone moving in front of them.

They stepped onto a small, shaky pier nicely lit by the soft glow of the moon.

“Hey Donny, you got it?” Dan stopped beside the sixty-foot steel barge.

“Yeah, we’re done.” Donny stood on the flat deck with a second person of medium build wearing a baseball cap and smoking a cigarette.

“Dan, how’s things?”

“Couldn’t be better. So I heard there was some activity earlier in the cove, the Coast Guard loitering about.”

Dread turned her blood to ice and it spiraled like tiny threads through her veins. Oh shit. “You okay, Marcie? You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine. Cold is all.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know why the Coast Guard was here?”

Where’s Sam?
“No, why would I?” He flashed a harsh smile, his bright white teeth reflecting nicely under the hint of moonlight. He looked away.
He knows.

A beam of light flashed. Pandemonium reigned all at once. The roar of a boat surged toward them. “Freeze DEA! Everybody get your hands up!” The deep voice boomed over the loud speaker, and then a horn blasted. Caught up in the chaos, Marcie didn’t know where to look, where to stand.

“You bitch. You think I didn’t know you backstabbed me.” He ripped his arm away and backhanded her across the cheek knocking her into the cold inky darkness of the ocean. She hit something hard, lost her footing and went down deep into the freezing water.

A bright, golden light rose above. Surrounding her like a soft blanket protecting a baby. A slender pale hand extended out of the light, followed by her willowy graceful face with all her silky blond hair swimming around her. When she spoke, it was with sweet determination, crossing through the thin veil of worlds, which separated them.

“Over here, come on, you’re safe, Marcie. Sam’s waiting for you. He needs you. Do you finally understand? You’re the victim of a viscous ugly cycle. You broke free from the darkness by refusing to be a victim. You stood tall, taking back your power, and you stood for truth. Dan won’t have you now. You destroyed his plan, and you embarrassed him with the one man who controls him. No woman has done that to him before. The darkness he covets is part of him. Because you’re strong, you ended his familiar hold on you.”

Sam, for the first time in his life, felt
rage and then
terror slice so deep, it penetrated his bones. The instant Dan struck Marcie and knocked her into the water, he’d swear agony crippled his heart, and for a moment, he’d left his body. Pure instinct had him racing out of control from their deep cover in the trees, a hundred feet from the yacht club’s rickety shack. He lost sight of the objective—bringing down Dan McKenzie and Lance Silver.

Marcie, sweet Marcie, had become his Achilles heel. Sam pounded down the hill, tripping over roots and sliding in the dirt. She meant more to him than this case—a case that had consumed him for so long.

Onto the dock, he ran, diving blindly into the ocean, reaching around until he hit boulders, rocks and the bottom before pushing back up. His chest burned when his head broke the surface. “Marcie!” Gasping, fear
almost paralyzing him, he treaded in the frigid water. He couldn’t see her in the darkness, even with the lights around him. But knew this was where she went in. Sam sucked in a lungful of air and dove down again, reaching into the shadows.

A spotlight illuminated the dock and shoreline when he broke through the water again, this time gulping down the cold, dank air.

Diane raced along the rocky shore, stumbling over boulders and rocks. “Sam, she’s on the rocks!”

Sam trembled while he clawed his way out of the water. Jesse dropped to his knees on the shaky dock, grabbed Sam’s arm and leg, pulling him out of the water onto the narrow pier. Drenched, Sam slid on his stomach and pushed himself up on shaky legs, panting as if he’d just run a marathon. Pure adrenaline had him stumbling over boulders, guided by Diane’s flashlight, to a huddled form lying still on the sand and gravel shore. A thick, foamy tide brushed over the twisted fabric pasted around her legs and cast and then retreated. By the time Sam reached Marcie, she still hadn’t moved. He pushed past Diane, who was down on her knees, whispering to Marcie as she rolled her over. A low moan gurgled from her wet, sandy lips. Sam cradled her in his arms, and her eyes fluttered open. She reached up and grabbed his sopping wet jacket. Sam pulled her closer, wiping the grit and tangled strands of hair from her face.