Mack’s voice came over the radio, “I listened to the message that your people discovered. And even that was just vague enough that if you hadn’t pieced it together, we wouldn’t even have this.”
“Our boss is sending someone with scuba equipment.” They did not have a long wait for Rank to arrive, and Clay knew what was in the back of his SUV. Nodding toward Levi, he said, “We’ll get suited up and go for a dive.”
Rank, Tate, and Clay pulled on their wetsuits and fins. This time of year and this time of day, the water would be cold, so they used hoods and gloves as well. Completing the checks of their regulator, power inflator, buoyancy compensator, and octopus, they stepped into the water.
Using lights, they swam in a pattern, moving toward the coordinates Josh had secured from the Task Force underwater sighting. He looked for a reflection that the drug runners would have used so they’d be able to come back and retrieve whatever they had sunk into the watery depths. Moving in an ever-expanding circle, Tate signaled he’d found something.
Clay and Rank swam over, seeing the bright orange tape wrapped around the plastic container. Working together, they cut off the weights attached to the container, and while Tate lifted it to the surface, Clay and Rank carried the weights up so that they could be investigated for evidence as well.
Once at the surface, they could see the shore and swam toward the rocky coastline where Levi and Mack were waiting. By the time they arrived, several more FBI agents and investigators had made it to the scene. On land, Clay pulled off his mask and hood, moving with the other Keepers to where the agents could take possession of the container and weights. Sitting down on a large rock, he pulled off his fins then walked over to see what their bounty contained.
Carefully opening the container, they revealed it was filled with plastic-wrapped bricks of what Clay assumed was drugs. As the agent tested the powder inside, he nodded. “Heroin, for sure.”
“If the Minotaurs were transporting this north and ran into trouble, they were prepared to dump it overboard. They might have come back for it later until the Task Force picked them up, tipping them off that they were suspected.”
Looking toward Levi, he said, “We need more to tie this in with Jerry. Right now, there’s not enough evidence.”
“We’ll increase the surveillance on the guesthouse that Jerry stays in on the congressman’s estate.”
Clay nodded, then added, “And that fuckin’ boathouse.” Stalking over to Rank’s SUV, he peeled off his wetsuit, placing all his equipment into the back. So involved in his mission, he just then realized how high the sun was in the sky. Grabbing his phone from the pack with his clothes, he looked at the time. Almost noon. God dammit! Christina needed to get back to Portland!
He tried to call her, but it went straight to voicemail. Shit! Sending a text, he hoped she would open it. Slamming the passenger door closed, frustration raged through him.
“She’ll understand—”
“She shouldn’t fuckin’ have to,” he growled.
Continuing as though Clay hadn’t interrupted, Rank said, “Maybe not, but they all do. That’s part of a relationship, Clay.”
He remained quiet, thinking of how much understanding his parents had toward each other… not a fuckin’ lot. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Christina was not his mom. He couldn’t imagine that she would specifically look for something to be pissed about, but this was different. Either she’d had to find a way to get back to Portland, or she was going to miss her orchestra practice, something that would hurt her career.
Tate flipped on the music in the SUV, and Clay closed his eyes as he ground his teeth together. For the next hour, he listened to country musicians sing about lost loves and love lost. Jesus, shoot me now.
By the time he was dropped off at LSI to get his own vehicle and drive home, he was not surprised to see that she was gone. Racing inside, it was obvious she had left. He moved to his laptop and checked his outside security camera feed. There she was, walking out of his house in her miniskirt and tank top, carrying her boots in her hand and getting into a waiting cab. Her head turned to the side as the cab pulled from his driveway and her face was visible in the window. Unable to discern if she was angry or sad, he sighed heavily, embarrassment filling him that she was forced to endure the walk of shame. Fuck! She looks like she spent a night with a guy who didn’t give enough of a shit to get her home.
Growling, he stalked through the house, pacing. He thought of driving to Portland but had no idea where she lived. Picking up the phone, he called Josh. “I’m at home and need a favor… an address.”
10
Christina had attempted every way she knew to calm her anger. Counting. Humming. Reading a book on her phone. Listening to music. None of them worked.
The cab driver had attempted to make conversation during the first thirty minutes of their two-hour drive, but after her numerous one-word responses, he gave up. Guilt had slithered through her but was quickly gobbled up by her anger toward Clay.
Now, as she swiped her credit card in the card processor hanging on the back of the front seat of the cab, she swallowed deeply. She added in a tip and tried not to think how the fee would cut into her account. Between her job with the symphony, the band gigs, the weddings and events she played with her quartet, and the private lessons, she made enough to live on and save a little. But she was far from rolling in riches. It was fine most of the time because she was living the life she loved. But occasionally, splurges dug a little deep. And a two-hour taxi bill definitely stung.
The conductor of the orchestra had zero patience for tardiness, so she ran past Amy, who was standing at the door ready to leave.
“I had no idea if you were going to get back in time!” Amy said.
Christina ran to the bathroom to tame her unruly hair, then changed into clean and more appropriate clothes. “Grab my music and my concert violin!” she yelled, sliding her feet into her flats, remembering she would need to get her electric violin from Steven as soon as possible.
“Are you gonna tell me what happened?”
“Yes, but you’re going to drive. I’ll tell you on the way.”
The two raced out of their apartment, and once on the road heading to the concert hall, she leaned her head against the headrest and sighed heavily. “The short version of my story is that I ran into Clay at the festival yesterday, and—”
“Oh, my God! So, he saw you playing with the band?”
“Yes. At first, I think it really shocked him, and I don’t think he was terribly happy. But we chatted, and he admitted that he really liked the music, thought I was hot, and—”
“You are hot! With that outfit, those boots, dancing around while you play… damn, he’d have to be blind or dead to not think you were hot!”
“Well, hot or not, he admitted he liked it. He asked me to stay for the rest of the festival, so I did. I met his friends, we had a good time, and then he asked me to go back to his place. I agreed and—”
Amy jerked in and out of traffic as she continued to interrupt. “You spent the night at his house? I knew he liked you!”
“I was going to give you the short version, but if you keep interrupting, I’ll never get my story out!”