Chapter 42
JD and I ran back to the zodiac while the EMTs did a cursory evaluation of Taryn. She was a little traumatized, but she’d be okay.
I pulled the spike from the shore, hopped in the boat, and JD fired up the engines.
We spun around and sped out of the channel as fast as the boat would go.
The storm had whipped up angry waves, and we crashed against the swells, heading out against the incoming set.
Rain pelted down, and lightning flashed in the distance, followed by another cannon crack of thunder.
With two outboards and a shallow draft, we were a little faster. But it was still a roller coaster ride, bouncing around through the peaks and valleys as the stinging rain pelted down. Briny air swirled, and the outboards howled.
I scanned the horizon, looking for the fugitive.
The white boat with red trim was a tiny speck ahead of us.
I pointed Jack in the right direction, and we kept in pursuit.
Oren headed back toward Coconut Key, but there wasn't anywhere to hide.
Daniels had put a BOLO out on the suspect and notified the Coast Guard.
The weather kept Tango One out of the air, but I felt confident Oren wouldn't get far. He could try to make a run for Cuba, but that would be a long haul in weather like this.
I knew damn good and well the little bastard wasn’t an immortal werewolf.
My bullets had either gone through soft tissue, and he was hanging on by a thread.
Or the little weasel had the presence of mind to wear a bulletproof vest. My guess was the latter.
He played possum after the initial shot.
Either way, I knew from past experience that he was in a world of hurt.
You don't take two bullets to the chest at close range without suffering repercussions—even with a vest. He likely had a few cracked ribs, at minimum.
In this weather, it would take at least 45 minutes to get back to Coconut Key. We kept gaining ground on the dirtbag. Jack kept the throttle as fast as we could manage under the conditions. I held on for dear life as we bounced around, my eyes squinting from the wind and rain.
It took about 15 minutes to draw close to the perp.
Oren kept looking over his shoulder with wide eyes, not showing any signs of slowing down.
Then he pulled a pistol from a compartment at the helm.
He angled it in our direction. Muzzle flash flickered, and a bullet streaked across the water.
Oren had no chance of hitting anything intentionally in these swells. But the little bastard could always get lucky.
JD zigzagged behind him, keeping the target moving.
I put a couple shots into the engine.
Oren snapped a few more haphazard shots in our direction, then throttled up.
The boat got tossed around on the swells.
Lightning cracked across the sky, and thunder rumbled again.
I fired a few more shots into the engine. I must have hit a fuel line. Gas hit a hot manifold, and flames erupted.
Smoke billowed.
We kept our distance.
It wasn't long before the engine gave up the ghost, and the center-console slumped into the swells, adrift.
It rose and fell with the waves. In a panic, Oren crouched at the gunwale and angled his pistol at us as the fire spread.
Flames flickered into the night, the high winds feeding the fire. The rain still poured down.
Oren blasted off a few more shots.
This time, he was a little more accurate. Bullets whizzed across the bow.
I lined him up in the reticle of my sights, my finger around the trigger.
Jack shouted at him through a megaphone. "Oren, you're making the situation worse. Put the gun down and give yourself up."
Oren didn't listen. He fired off another couple of shots in our direction.
I'd given him every opportunity. I pulled the trigger. My bullet sped across the water and drilled him in the chest. Oren tumbled back just as a wave hit the boat. He fell over the gunwale into the inky abyss.
JD advanced to the boat as flames continued to glow the area. The rollercoaster swells lifted us up and down as we circled around the center-console, looking for the scumbag.
I didn’t see him anywhere.
My flashlight beam swept across the tempestuous sea.
Oren had likely drowned.
We kept circling but found no trace of him.
The sheriff and his entourage arrived a few minutes later.
We searched for a while longer, then returned to the station and filled out after-action reports. I surrendered my weapon and was put on administrative leave as a matter of protocol. By that time, it was just past 4:00 AM. I was soggy and tired and wanted to go home.
Taryn had made a full statement, and we were all ready to put the chaos behind us.
But the lack of closure bothered me. There was no way Oren could survive in those conditions.
Even with a bulletproof vest, the air would have been knocked from his lungs.
He’d have a hard time recovering in the water, and the suit could have weighed him down. Too much to struggle against.
"I can't thank you enough," Taryn said in the lobby of the station. "I should have been more cooperative sooner. I just never imagined one of my students could do something like this.”
"People are full of surprises," I said. "Do you need a ride home?”
"Actually, I'm not sure if I want to go back home. I need to get the window fixed where Oren broke in. I don't really feel like staying alone tonight.” She sighed. "I guess I could get a hotel room.”
If I wasn't mistaken, she was fishing.
"Plenty of room on the boat. We could put you up for a night.”
She lifted an intrigued eyebrow. "Boat? What type of boat?”
I grinned.