Savage Coast by Jason Briggs

Author:Jason Briggs [Briggs, Jason]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

It took us nearly an hour to muscle our way through Miami rush-hour traffic. The honking, the constant stop-and-go, and the exhaust fumes were a clear enough reminder of why I had no desire to live in the city.

“These stupid investigations are always more complex than you think going into them,” Brad said. “I don’t know why we can’t just have two dudes who killed each other over an argument about who gets to plant the bomb. Bam. Done. ‘Kathleen, I know you just gave us this case three minutes ago, but we solved it.’”

“Maybe if we had Detective Wallace’s job,” I said.

“Then I want Detective Wallace’s job.”

“We’ll need to dig into Edward’s and Holden’s financials,” I said. “If they were into bad money, then there’s a trail there somewhere. And we need to get someone who can locate their yacht.”

“I’ll check all the Caribbean customs tomorrow,” he said. “See if I can find their last port of call. And we need to see about a warrant to tap Foster’s cell phone. When he gets that call he’s expecting, we need to be able to track it or at the very least listen in.”

We finally got out of the city and passed through Homestead. Half an hour later we passed over Cross Key and came into Key Largo. Home sweet home. I had my cell on a phone clip attached to an air vent. When it rang, I answered it through my truck’s bluetooth. “There’s my favorite boss,” I said.

“Sucking up to me isn’t going to help me forget your wayward ways, Ryan.” Still, I heard a smile in Kathleen’s voice.

“What’s up?”

“The Coast Guard just called the office. They found the skiff that Eric Scahill’s murderer got away on earlier today. It was out by Oyster Key caught up in some mangroves.”

“Caught up in?”

“Someone poured gasoline over it and set flame to it. They took the outboard off, so no serial numbers, and no decals on the hull. They won’t be getting any DNA or prints off of what’s left. Another boat probably picked your guy up.”

Well, there went that lead. Unless the Sheriff’s Office found something in the motel rooms—and I was fairly certain they wouldn’t—it looked like Scahill’s murderer just got away with it.

Brad spoke with a grin on. “So how do you want us to find a killer with no clues, Kathleen?”

“I think you’ll manage. Or maybe not. You’ve been at the Barker thing for a while and can’t find who killed him. Maybe I should fire you both and bring in a couple of agents who know how to actually get things done.”

“They burned the boat,” Brad said. “How do we get around that?”

Ignoring this, she said, “How did Miami go? Are you on your way back yet?” I filled her in on the last couple of hours; how our time at the port had gone and our conversation with Foster.

“Kathleen?”

“Yes, Brad?”

“We would have found all the evidence, but the old lady at the front set fire to the place and there wasn’t anything left to recover.

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