4. Tyler
After the technicians using the ground penetrating sonar detected another three bodies at Angelsong Orphanage, Captain Watts declared he’d seen enough and that it was time to head back to the station.
As we marched to our parked cars at the front of the orphanage, I contemplated asking Watts what the hell Aria was hinting at with her cryptic comments. His fierce scowl told me to hold off. Being an undercover cop had taught me a lot about body language, and Captain Watts was giving off the ‘don’t fucking talk to me’ vibes, big time. Despite being shorter than me, he was marching so hard I had to stride to keep up.
As we approached the cars, he said, “I thought finding those bodies in the container was the worst crime scene I’d ever taken charge of.” He removed his hat, glided his hand over his thinning hair, then slotted the hat back on. “But at least that crime scene was fresh, and I’m confident we’ll find the bastards who did it. These poor kids were likely buried decades ago.” His expression darkened. “There’s little hope of figuring out who did this.”
“We need to get the discovery of these bodies on headlining news,” I said. “If the bastards are still alive, it will rattle their cage. Maybe they’ll do something that will lead us right to them.”
“I like your thinking, Kingsley.” He opened his car door. “Listen, I know you’re keen to get rolling on this case, but we need you to do something else first.”
“Name it.”
“Have you met Indiana Smith yet?”
I frowned. “The salvage boat captain? She towed the shipping container with those bodies inside to the wharf.”
“Yeah, that’s her. We need her to raise Chui’s sunken yacht and bring it into Rosebud Wharf.”
“And . . . what do I need to do?”
“You need to protect her.”
“Protect her from who?”
“From the bastards who are trying to get their hands on whatever is on that yacht.”
I frowned, trying to understand why Aria didn’t tell me that herself. “Seems simple enough.”
“Yes, except our defensive Border Force boats are out of action or unable to support you, and I can’t spare any other officers. It’s critical that we keep this under wraps, Kingsley. Just Aria and us two know about the plan.”
Was that because he didn’t trust everyone in our cop station?
“Reason?”
“Chui had his tentacles into a lot of people, and somebody still wants to get their hands on whatever is on that sunken yacht. The fewer people who know about this salvage, the better.” He shook his head. “Unfortunately, it means you’ll be flying solo. We’re banking on Indiana getting the wreck into Rosebud Wharf before anyone knows what’s happening.”
“Why don’t you wait until the border force team can help?”
He clenched his fists so hard his knuckles bulged. “Because this whole damn mess is connected, and when Chui died, we’d thought it would put an end to this bullshit. But the crimes connected to him still keep coming. Someone else is running the show, and we have no fucking idea who. We’re hoping whatever is on that yacht is the key we’ve been looking for.”
“I’m sensing there’s more to it.”
“Yeah. Indiana Smith.”
“What about her?”
“She hates cops.” He gave a curt nod. “See you at the station.”
He climbed into his patrol car and shut the door.
I got into my car and followed Watts down the potholed driveway.
Indiana Smith wasn’t the first person I’d had to protect who hated cops, and she wouldn’t be the last. What I wasn’t impressed with was being taken off the abandoned orphanage case. Then again, if all I was doing was shadowing Indiana while we were on her boat, then I could take my laptop and notes with me. I could do my research anywhere, including out on the ocean.
I started my drive back to Rosebud Police Station with Bach’s Orchestral Suite no 3. blaring from my speakers much louder than I needed. My mother introduced me to classical music when I was an angry teenager. Mom was a primary school teacher, and in every class she taught, classical music played in the background. I often wondered if those kids hated it as much as I did in the beginning, but I grew to appreciate how therapeutic classical music could be.
Once I’d had my Bach fix, I turned off the music and set my phone to dictate. During the following ninety minutes, I dictated my report on what had been found at the orphanage and drafted a press release that Watts could potentially use.
As I stepped into the musty air of the police station, I waved to the officer at the front desk. “Hey, Lacey.”
“Hi, Tyler. How did you go at the orphanage?”
I shook my head. “They’d already found six bodies before I left.”
“Jesus. Are you beginning to regret being posted to Rosebud?”
“Nope. Are you?”
“No way. I’d rather be busy any day.”
I frowned at her. Maybe she also had a past she was running from. Lacey and I had both started at this station in the same week. Our posting followed the incarceration of two cops who’d been arrested for their corrupt dealings with Chui. Following in a bad cop’s footsteps was good and bad. On the one hand, it wasn’t hard to look good. On the other hand, getting our co-workers to trust us was hard work.
I pushed through the doorway with the intention of heading straight to my desk, but my focus was hijacked by the ruckus coming from the holding cells, a clattering symphony of metal and fury.
“Let me out, you bastards!” The woman’s voice was raw and charged with rage.
“Who’s that?” I asked any one of the four other cops in the room.
A weird grin crossed Cooper’s lips. “Indiana Smith.”
I blinked at him. “Why’s she in a cell?”
“She shot a flare gun at another boat and set it on fire. Then she resisted arrest. Whisper from Border Force brought her in late last night.”
Good. That meant shadowing her salvage mission was off the cards, and I could focus on the orphanage case. I sat at my desk, and as Indiana’s rage alternated between banging on the bars and yelling, and bouts of silence, I transferred my notes and photos from my phone to my laptop.
“Kingsley,” Captain Watts barked as he marched up the hallway from the holding cell.
I stood up from behind my desk. “Yes, sir.”
“My office.” He marched away.
I raced to catch up with him.
He sat behind his desk.
“Shut the door,” he said as I entered his room. “Sit.”
As I sat, I pulled my notepad from my top pocket.
“Indiana Smith got herself locked up last night. Did you hear why?” Two lines between his brows deepened.
“I heard.”
“I pulled some strings to talk the guy Indiana shot the flare gun at into dropping the charges, and we have agreed to do the same with the resisting arrest charge provided she salvages Chui’s boat.”
“Why don’t we get another salvage crew?”
“Her boat is the only one in these parts big enough to handle Chui’s yacht. And Indiana is the best. I’ve just told her about the need for secrecy about this salvage. Your job is to make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.” He jabbed a finger toward me as if punctuating the gravity of the task.
I cocked my head. “For example?”
He shrugged. “Pretend Chui’s yacht is too deep, or worse, detonate Chui’s yacht.”
My brows drilled together.
“Trust me. Indiana knows all the tricks in the book. She learned them from her father, who you’ll also have to contend with.”
Beyond the office window that looked over most of the police station, two other cops swung their gaze toward me with weird grins at exactly the same time. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they’d overheard his comment.
“What’s wrong with her father?”
Watts cracked his knuckles. “Let’s just say that Indiana is an angel compared to Old Smithy.”
Great.
“I want to keep working on the orphanage case while Indiana does the salvage,” I said.
Watts nodded. “As long as you keep your eyes open. We know at least three attempts have been made to search that yacht. The last boatload of bastards we chased off shot the shit out of the Border Force boat, and that’s why the damn thing is written off.”
“Wrote off the boat?”
“Yeah, automatic weapons with armor-piercing bullets. Captain Ryder and his crew were just lucky they didn’t use the RPG he saw them aim.” Watts sniffed and leaned back. “Kingsley, I can’t stress enough how much we need to keep this salvage under wraps. The fewer people who know, the better.”
“Is that why I’m the only protection Indiana has?” I wanted Watts to back up my suspicion that he didn’t trust everyone in his command.
“I can’t take any more manpower off the shipping container investigation or the orphanage, so you’re it. Border Force boats aren’t an option, and their plane has been relocated further north to help with the latest influx of illegal immigrants.” Watts nodded like something slotted into his mind. “I’ll see if Aria can get Levi from Wolf Security to fly over your location in his chopper as much as he can. He’ll have a birds-eye view of your surroundings. That’s the best we can do.”
I nodded. During Operation Vivid, I ran solo most of the time, but backup was just a phone call away. If I got into trouble, a swat team would be on the spot within thirty minutes.
How long would it take for help to arrive out there on the ocean?
“And if I do get into trouble?”
“Ring Aria.” He fished into his top drawer and pushed a business card across his desk. “She has a tactical team at her fingertips which will be your backup.”
I studied the card. “Why are they called Wolf Security?”
“Wolf was the callsign for one of her men who died on a mission a few years ago.”
I slipped the card into my notebook and slotted that into my top pocket.
“Aria won’t let you down.” Watts jabbed his stubby finger to the desk. “But you need to keep your eyes peeled. We’re counting on you.”
“Understood,” I said. Outside the window, Cooper and Hindmarsh stood chatting over the top of a desk partition. “What will the team think I’m doing with Indiana?”
“As far as they are concerned,” he said, pointing out the glass, “you’re investigating the mess she got herself into last night.”
I nodded.
“Listen, you’ll have your hands full with Indiana and Old Smithy. Don’t let them fool you. And a word of advice, if you go all hard-ass on Indiana, it will backfire.”
“Okay. Got it.” I stood to leave. “Hey, Captain, before I go. I have done my report on what I saw at the orphanage this morning, but I also drafted a media report like I’d suggested.”
He did a double-take. “Already?”
“I dictated on the drive back.”
“Huh. Impressive. Send it through to me. I’ll take a look.”
“Thanks, Captain. I’m keen to keep on the orphanage case.”
He pierced me with an intense gaze. “Kingsley, Chui’s criminal activities, the shipping container with the bodies, and those unmarked graves at the abandoned orphanage are all tied together somehow.”
I blinked, trying to pull the threads between the cases together.
“We’re hoping that whatever is on Chui’s yacht will help us solve a whole bunch of cases. I should have retired last year like my wife begged me to.” He leveled his gaze at me. “Get your bags packed and get moving. The sooner we get that yacht on a dry dock, the sooner we can pull it to bits.”
I frowned. “How long do you think the boat salvage will take?”
“How the hell should I know? Ask Indiana. She’s the expert.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And, Kingsley, go easy on Indiana. She’s been through some shit.” He gave a curt nod. “Good luck.”
I strode out his door, and ignoring the curious gazes from Cooper and Anderson, I followed Indiana’s ruckus down the hallway to the three holding cells at the back of the police station.
Indiana was the only detainee, yet for some reason, they’d put her in the last cell. As I approached, she ran her gaze up my body. “Officer Fancy Pants, you here to let me out of this cell?”
Indiana Smith. Caged and enraged. Even her name was wild. Her hair was a tangle of brown waves with streaks of sun-kissed rebellion, and she wore faded denim shorts and a tank top that did little to hide her incredible body which was shaped from hard work.
“Get a good look?” She glared at me between the bars with light brown eyes that hinted at a lifetime of storms.
I stood between the back wall and the bars. “Indiana, I’m Detective Tyler Kingsley.”
“I know who you are.”
“Good. I’ve been ordered to protect you.”
She stepped back.
“I can protect myself.” She paced her cell like a shark trapped in shallow waters. “And I certainly don’t need a cop pretending to help me.”
“Believe me, I’d rather do anything else.”
She sashayed forward, put her hand through the bars, and waved me closer.
I took one pace toward her.
“Then how about you let me go and take a few days off? I won’t tell Watts if you don’t.” She smiled, and I was mesmerized by how stunning she was when she wasn’t scowling.
Stepping back, I leaned against the cold concrete wall and crossed my arms. “You obviously don’t know me very well. I’ve been ordered to shadow you until you bring Chui’s salvaged yacht into Rosebud Wharf. So, until then, you and I are glued at the hip.”
She sighed. “Okay, Mr. Follow-the-Rules, let me out, and we’ll get started.”
Despite her civil tone, defiance oozed from the rest of her.
“I’ll let you out when I’m ready.”
“Are you dragging this out so this supposed secret will spread?” Her voice was a mix of acid and ice. She walked to the concrete bed at the rear of the cell and lay down. She raised one knee, and two long scars peeked out from the frayed edge of her shorts. Those wounds looked much more severe than my two bullet wounds.
I was tempted to walk away and let her simmer for a few hours, but the sooner we got this mission over with, the better.
I wrapped my hand around two cold bars. “How long will it take you to raise that yacht?”
Staring at the ceiling, she shrugged. “Four days. Ten days.”
“What are the contingencies?”
She rolled onto her side to face me, curling her hand up beneath her cheek in a pose that made her look deceptively innocent. “Have you ever spent time on the ocean?”
“A few times.”
“There’s nothing like the unpredictability of the sea. One minute, she’s caressing you like a lover. Next minute, she’s trying to break your neck.”
The detective in me wanted to tell her to cut the bullshit.
The man in me was extremely intrigued by the challenge of Indiana Smith.
“Look, I want to get this done as quickly as you do. So as soon as you stop playing games, we?—”
“Games!” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat. “I’m the one locked in a cell. You’re the one playing games.”
I glared at her until she snapped her gaze from me. “How many days should I pack for?”
She shrugged. “Just one. After twenty-four hours on Rhino, you’ll be begging to return to solid ground.”
“Like I said, Indiana, you don’t know me.” I strode away.
“I love it when you talk dirty,” she called down the hallway. “You might want to change into something comfortable, Officer Fancy Pants. I’d hate you to get fish guts on that Italian suit.”
When I returned to the main office, Cooper grinned so big it was a wonder he didn’t split his lip.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
“Tell me about her boat,” I said, ignoring his goading. “What can I expect?”
He chuckled. “Rhino is no luxury yacht. She and Old Smithy live there, but from what I’ve seen on the top deck, it’s a rusty dump heap.”
I groaned. “So, no coffee machine, huh?”
Cooper burst out laughing. “You’re a funny guy, Kingsley.”
I packed my laptop and two notepads into my case. As I walked toward the exit, I felt everyone staring at me.
I couldn’t decide if their ogling was because I was about to spend time with hotheaded Indiana, or because they didn’t trust me. Now, Watts had given me a reason not to trust them, either.
When I was undercover working for Albert Bonebreaker Bolton, I had to fly solo and couldn’t trust a single person I worked with during those three years.
I was about to head into uncharted waters but again, I had no backup.