Chapter Twenty-Nine
Petra
Petra woke up to find that she had weaved her limbs with Hawkeye’s.
He smiled at her. “Good morning.” He dropped a kiss into her hair then started to untangle himself. “Hey, I need to get up and take Cooper out. Would you like me to bring breakfast up like yesterday?”
She nodded not wanting to talk until she’d had a chance to brush her teeth.
So she waited until Cooper and Hawkeye were out the door before going to pee.
It was nice to have some solitude to get dressed.
Once she was ready for the day, Petra had gone down to the desk with a sob story about the Johnson family she had met and befriended at the tidepool. When she’d checked in per the hotel’s request last night, the Johnsons hadn’t yet come in. “They have three small children,” Petra continued. “When I came in from the hospital, it was late. I just want to make sure my friends are safe. Or if there’s anything I could do to help.”
“Johnson?” the staffer asked.
“Herb and Jenny Johnson? Room six-forty-two? I think I’m remembering that correctly.”
“They didn’t check in with the front desk. But that doesn’t mean that they’re in danger. Checking in was voluntary. And it was already late in the day when we started collecting the information.”
“Okay. Yes, well, hopefully they’re okay, thank you.” Petra left the desk and found a bench away from the traffic flow.
When Petra dialed Rowan, he picked up on the first ring. “Where are you?” she asked.
“Miami. We’ll be there in a few hours.”
Petra scowled. “Wait. Who’s we?”
“Finley and Prescott. We already had an iron on the stove. It just made sense for the three of us to come down to move our objectives along and get back faster.”
“This is important enough that you left an unattended iron heating?” Petra scuffed her foot on the shiny granite.
“Timing was good. Let’s leave it at that,’ Rowan said. “What’s this call about?”
“I talked with the front desk, and they said the Johnson family never checked in after yesterday’s event. I saw the family on the cliff, away from the waves. I saw them go up toward the vehicles. My driver and Jenny’s driver were helping me with Terry. I don’t know how they got to their next place.”
“What are your thoughts?” he asked.
“Three choices. Criminal. Innocent. Deadly.”
“Okay,” he said. “Take me through each.”
Petra put one hand on top of her head. “Criminal—this was planned, and it went very well. Timing was excellent because everyone was caught up in myriad emergencies. The family had rented a boat and said they’d be out overnight to see sunset and sunrise. They’re late, there’s some worry. At some point, the Coast Guard would find the boat, but the family is missing. They fear the worst. There’s a search. The family is possibly assumed to have drowned?”
“But in this scenario, what was playing out?”
“They met with a secondary boat and switched over.”
“Left their belongings?”
“In this scenario, they left some belongings in the hotel. Pocket litter kinds of stuff. Stuff that they put out to convince anyone looking that they had planned to be back. But they took the basics they needed, passports, a change of clothes, and the kids’ favorite toys—in a single bag. They climb from boat to boat, leaving the other adrift while their escape boat takes them to Colombia. Everyone believes there was an accident at sea. The family drowned and no one is looking for them after several days of failed Coast Guard efforts And that narrative makes perfect sense after the coincidence of the seismic events yesterday.”
“That’s a lot to arrange even without the coincidence,” Rowan suggested.
“Versus arranging to be gone from society for a decade plus and coming back to grown children and limited job possibilities.”
“Here’s some information I was able to gather. Ready?” Rowan asked.
“Maybe.”
“One of the notarized letters in their file that went to the judge is from Herb’s sister. She described her brother as someone whose whole personality changed in the last eighteen months. In her letter, she said it was like watching a bad actor on the screen who was trying to play the role of a saint in a movie. Herb talked about finding the light and living in the rays. The sister was worried enough that she went to the police before Herb’s arrest to see if there was anything she could do because she thought that he might be having a mental breakdown.”
“On the surface, that would make me think cult behaviors,” Petra said.
“I checked their home address,” Rowan said, “and it was recently sold. I checked with the Department of Motor Vehicles. Their cars were sold, as well. But all of that is what anyone would do knowing that they are going to prison. The only reason your antennae are up is that the mother didn’t look at the child with bittersweetness. She could be on the autism spectrum.” Rowan said. “She may be feeling the feelings and not expressing them in a neurotypical manner.”
“Possible, sure,” Petra agreed. “I could be very wrong. But you asked me how I’d play it out if this was their criminal actions.”
“Okay move on to the next scenario, innocent.”
“Yes, back to a boat scenario because I don’t have one for them not signing in at the hotel if they’re on land. So boat—they could have been having trouble with their boat. They needed help for some innocent reason, and they’re dealing with the issue. That one doesn’t make much sense to me at all, and I’m not even able to invent a good scenario to make it work, sorry.”
Rowan sucked in a lungful of air. “That leaves deadly.”
“It was a traumatic day in the islands from Puerto Rico down. The Christmas Winds, the rogue waves—granted, not tsunamis by any stretch of the imagination, but people got in trouble all over the island. The water was treacherous. Sixteen known dead as of the last count I heard.”
“The deadly, then, is something like the kids got swept over the side, they weren’t wearing their life vests, the parents jumped in and were able to grab the kids, but the current pulled them too far from the boat, and they never made it back.”
“There were two seismic events and so two sets of giant waves. Why you’d go out on a day like yesterday, I have no idea. But, yes, that was exactly how I could see that working out.”
“Great minds,” Rowan said.
“You know, when people use that phrase, I can never tell if they’re complimenting the person their speaking with or themselves.”
“Both. But okay, how about birds of a feather flock together.”
“That’s a stretch to make that act as a synonym for great minds, but I get the gist. What do we do?”
“ We do nothing,” Rowan’s voice lost any levity. “I told you not to play. I’d like to discuss it with you when we’re back in D.C. That file is classified for the moment. I’m working on getting permission from Frost to read you in back at the Bureau.”
“Rowan, this has to do with the pendant, right?” Petra asked. “Do I want to be read in?”
“That I don’t know.”
***
Dressed in hiking clothes with her boots tied firmly in place, Petra sat down in the Cerberus conference room with a cup of coffee in front of her, a pad and pen.
Petra wasn’t sure how she could be helpful. Honestly, she hoped she could do something sitting in front of a monitor. Adrenaline strength was a gift while she was helping Terry. But now, her muscles were tender, and her sinew felt too stretched. Being neurodivergent, she had to be careful of her hyper-mobility. And Petra wondered if the sensation was something to be worried about.
Sitting would be good.
Hawkeye was beside her, and Cooper was under the table with one of his paws draped over the toe of Petra’s boot. It felt like they were holding hands. And it was very sweet.
As the men filed in with their dogs, Petra leaned to the side and asked under her breath, “Why do dogs smell each other’s butts? There has to be a biological maybe chemical reason, right?”
“Well, yeah, dogs have apocrine glands back there. You could think of it like a social media profile. Their pheromones are like a post. The scents tell the other dog, for example, where a bitch is in her cycle, age, and how a dog is feeling that day.”
“Feeling cute, may delete later.” Petra reached under the table to scritch Cooper. “Is that why the dogs like to smell human crotches?”
“Checking our status. Humans have those glands in our armpits, too. But for most dogs, the crotch is more convenient.”
“Helpful to dogs, but now I’m wondering if we used to smell each other for a status update. I mean, our tears change based on the why. Could we smell the difference at one time?” Petra asked. “Did we lick the tears off someone’s face to taste them? Curious minds…”
“Wait. Tears aren’t just tears?” Levi asked as he sat down. “Morning, Petra.”
“Hey, Levi. We’re talking about dogs sniffing butts. In human tears, laughing, lubrication, and self-cleaning from eye irritation are chemically different from emotional tears; those shed from sadness have high levels of stress hormones.” She lifted a hand and waved. “Good to see you, Ash. All’s well?”
“Good to go,” He said as he settled Hoover. “Thanks for asking.”
Reaper stood in the front of the room. “I have a list of potential assignments. When we’re in the field, we’ll let emergency services know which one we’re tackling. The top two suggestions were a wellness check on a commercial boat owner and a search of Buck’s Island. I’ll go over the background of each case. First, Buck’s Island. There is a tourist operation that takes visitors to Buck’s Island where there is a national underwater park. Visitors snorkel along the marked trails to learn about the variety of coral and undersea animals and so forth. The boat went out as usual. The captain said that the current had been unusually strong even before the seismic activity. He encouraged everyone to stay near the pontoon. However, free will is what it is, and not everyone complied. After the first set of waves hit, the tourists were all over the place. It took him some time to gather everyone on his roster before he started back to the main island. The second seismic activity hit them hard. Luckily, he had everyone in a flotation vest. The pontoon was flipped with one wave and righted with the next. His roster was lost, the captain doesn’t have the names of those with him anymore. He knows he couldn’t find three.”
“Were they within swimming distance of land?” Halo asked.
“They were a hundred yards from Buck’s Island. They’re either,” Reaper held up a finger, “floating in the water on debris like our survivors from yesterday’s boat accident.” He held up a second finger. “They made it to the island.” He held up a third finger. “They were picked up by another boat, or,” his fourth finger went up. “They’re deceased.” He lowered his hand to the table. “A citizen boat is being lent to us so we can search the island to see if we can locate any survivors.”
“You’re doing that with your dogs?” Petra’s voice rang with alarm.
The men turned to her.
“I—” Petra shook her head. Took a breath. Rolled her lips in.
The men waited.
“I don’t mean to step out of line. But have you trained there before?” Petra asked.
“We just received the assignment and haven’t done our due diligence,” Reaper said. “Would you like to share your concerns?”
“My friend and I considered going there to hike. And as long as you’re dressed properly, are aware, and stay on the path, it should be okay. They have scorpions, spiders, stinging nettles, and other things you guys probably deal with all the time on your searches.”
Reaper nodded.
“But there’s the manchineel tree, and that’s what makes me worried about the dogs’ safety. Every part of that plant—which grows prolifically on the island—is dangerous. Leaves, bark, sap, and fruit—all can cause chemical burns. If any of that were to get in the dogs’ eyes, it could lead to blindness. If they were to eat one of the fruits, it could cause serious issues, especially because there is no quick way to get them to a vet. I know that sometimes working dogs wear muzzles and dog goggles, which, in this case, would be important. But if they were to roll or rub or otherwise get the poison on their skin it could be very bad. While humans should be fine, it’s the dogs’ behavior, especially as you search off-trail, that has me worried.”
Reaper looked at her, his mind going.
“In the days of pirating,” Petra added, “they would tie their enemies to the trees, so they died a terrible death from the chemicals. It’s what I read. I felt compelled to share.”
“Thank you, Petra. You’re right. That environment needs a land team, not a K9 team. I’ll reach out and talk to emergency services and get us assigned to a different mission.” He lifted a sheet of paper. “I have a one-team assignment to do a well-check on a boater who didn’t return last night. Witnesses on the wharf said they saw her go out, but the boat wasn’t in the slip this morning. The sixty-year-old female is an experienced seawoman who always leaves her plans on her kitchen table. She lives in a cabin that is both off-grid and off-road. You’ll be parking your vehicle and hiking in. Eyes on the subject or a picture of the itinerary.”
“Cooper and I can take that one.” Hawkeye turned to Petra. “Do you want to take that assignment, too?”
She nodded and looked at Reaper.
“All right. This is a reminder about the communication situation. We ran into some issues, such as dead spots with no cell phone service in the area and no landlines. Because of the tree canopy on much of the island, satellite phones are hit and miss.” Reaper handed the paper over to Hawkeye. “Questions?”
“Is she paranoid? Armed? Animals? Any known medical issues?”
“She was described as a surfer who couldn’t do the big waves anymore and enjoys the smaller waves they get here in St. Croix. They didn’t have information about animals or medical situation.” He rapped his knuckles on the table. “This will be our TOC.” (He used the acronym for tactical operations center, pronounced “talk.”) “When you two get back, check in here with me.”
When Hawkeye stood, Cooper scrambled out from under the table.
Petra gritted her teeth as she lifted up from her chair. Surely, today would be easier than yesterday.
Right?