Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Cap idled the boat and cut a glance toward the Colombian man standing on the opposite side of Emma.
“Well, what do you want me to do?” Cap asked him.
He knew full well he needed to move the boat in a grid pattern and search for the bag. The best he could hope for was that the bag floated because if it sank, the odds of picking it up with his sonar equipment at this depth would be near impossible.
The guy swung his gaze wide before it landed back on him.
“We need to find the damn bag. It’s a waterproof bag, so it should be floating.”
Cap shrugged and slowly shook his head. “We can try, but with the east wind picking up, these rollers could have pushed it anywhere. Exactly how big is this bag? And, what color?”
Thinking back, he recalled seeing Emma carrying what looked like a duffel bag that couldn’t have been more than two feet long and a foot or so wide. But questions bought time.
“It’s black. About this size,” the annoyed man snapped, spreading his hands.
Cap scanned the horizon, taking note of a few other charter boats. He racked his brain for a way to communicate his distress to them without getting caught.
“I’ll start a grid pattern and move slowly to make sure we don’t miss it.”
They were in water about eighty feet deep.
He pointed at the fish finder. “At this depth, we may not pick it up if it sank.”
“Well, you’d better, or you’re going to be minus some passengers here pretty quick.”
Wholeheartedly, Cap believed the threat, and judging from the way Emma’s body quivered, she did, too.
The Colombian in charge moved toward the ladder leading from the wheelhouse to the deck.
Cap hoped he’d leave the wheelhouse and go onto the deck. That would give him an opportunity to radio for help. More importantly, it would get him away from Emma. The way the poor woman shook and nervously rubbed her hands together, she’d probably pass out if her nerves rattled any more.
“We’re going to start a grid pattern to locate the bag. All eyes on the water, or else,” the guy yelled down to those on the deck.
The ladies surrounding Preston stood. Preston’s eyes fluttered open, then closed again.
The kid needed medical attention. The right side of his face had darkened some.
He was going to have one hell of a bruise.
Cap hoped that was all he’d have, but with his non-responsiveness, Cap feared the worst for Preston.
The Colombian shifted his gaze to his buddy on the cigarette boat, which was located about fifteen feet from his starboard side. “Stay glued to us and keep your eyes peeled.”
After barking orders, the guy straightened his spine and then returned to his spot next to Emma.
Her body went rigid.
“Once we find this bag, we’ll be out of here, and you can all go about your business.”
Cap didn’t believe that for a second. Once they found the bag, they’d all be dead.
Part of him hoped not to find the bag, but he’d look, because not looking wasn’t an option.
Glancing over his shoulder, he found the ladies and Jonathan standing at the sides of the boat, peering out over the water just as they were told to do.
Cap eased the boat into motion and began the grid.
Back and forth. Slow and deliberate. Moving closer to shore with each pass.
The depth of the water decreased, but it was still too deep to ensure they’d spot the bag with the fish finder, and between the wind and waves, who knew how far the bag had traveled?
It was also possible that another vessel spotted the bag and scooped it up.
Minutes crawled.
“Where the fuck is this bag?” the Colombian yelled.
Emma flinched but didn’t say a word. Probably too scared to speak. Cap admired her quiet strength, holding her composure. It wasn’t every day that a Colombian drug dealer with a gun stood next to you.
They’d only been at it for a few minutes. What did this guy expect? Didn’t he realize how enormous Lake Michigan was?
“We’re searching. This lake is big. It’ll take time.”
“We don’t have time.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. I’m doing the best I can. We’re looking. I’m watching the equipment. Did the bag sink? Is it floating? Did someone else pick it up? I don’t know.”
The man’s eyes went wide and dark. The vein protruding out of the left side of his forehead pulsed and grew larger.
He lifted his hand and tapped his fingertips to his temple.
Had it not occurred to him that somebody else might have beaten him to the bag?
Is that thought what had brought on this nervous tic?
“Son of a bitch!”
In silence, Cap continued to move slowly, back and forth in a grid motion.
The radio crackled.
“Cap, this is Mick.”
Cap’s heart thudded.
It was Mick from Fish Stalker Charters calling out to him.
The Colombian’s gaze snapped to the radio.
“Do not answer.”
“If I don’t, he’s going to think it’s strange and that maybe something’s wrong. We communicate out here all the time. We don’t ignore each other.”
“Cap, are you all right over there? I see you running a grid. Makes me think you’re catching some fish in that spot if only you had lines out on the water. Do you need help? Is something going on?”
Concern laced Mick’s tone.
Cap wanted to answer his friend, but what would he say? He probably looked stupid right about now, running a grid formation on the water without rods in holders and lines in the water.
He hoped Mick wouldn’t come over. There would be hell to pay if he did, but he didn’t know that.
“Cap,” Mick sounded over the radio, “why is there a cigarette boat following you, and why do you not have lines in the water? What’s going on?”
Cap fixed his gaze on the Colombian. “I’m going to have to answer him. He’s not going to let it go.”
“Cap, do you need help? Do you need the Coast Guard? Do you need the police boat? Is something going on?” Mick asked as his vessel narrowed in on them.
The Colombian’s jaw tightened.
The last thing they needed was for the Coast Guard or the police boat to show up.
“You need to let me answer him,” Cap demanded through gritted teeth.
The Colombian pulled his gun from his waistband and yanked Emma to him, pressing the barrel into her side.
“You tell him everything is fine, or she dies.”
The fear in Emma’s watery eyes pierced his heart. The woman knew the threat was real.
He scooped up the radio. “Hey, Mick. It’s Cap. Everything’s okay. Thanks for asking.”
“What are you doing there, buddy? I’ve gotta know.”
Cap forced a chuckle.
“I wound up with a bridal party on board today. Turns out, the ladies aren’t much interested in fishing, so we’re just kind of going back and forth, and they’re sunning themselves on the deck. Just enjoying the ride.”
A moment of silence passed before Mick laughed. “Well, okay, then. Sorry to bother you, it’s just that from my perspective, things looked a little strange, so I wanted to make sure you were okay and didn’t need anything. Have fun with the ladies. I guess it’ll be easy earnings today.”
“For sure. Thanks, Mick. I appreciate the concern, and tell that beautiful daughter of yours that I’m thrilled for her on her new promotion. She’s exactly what’s needed right now.”
Mick’s response came slowly. “Will do. Thank you.”
Mick steered his vessel away from them.
The Colombian looked at Cap and nodded as he let out a relieved breath. Then, he tucked his gun back into his waistband.
Cap exhaled.
“We don’t have all day. I’ve got places to be. I need that bag now.”
Emma rubbed her arm where the guy had been squeezing it.
Her troubled gaze shifted from him to the windshield.
He’d give anything to wipe her worry away, but all he could hope for right now was that Mick got his hint about his daughter, Markie, Sturgeon Bay Police Department Investigator Markie Pearson-Hawk.
She didn’t just get a promotion; she’d been an investigator for a while now.
Not knowing how else to communicate they were in distress, he made that up, hoping Mick would pick up on it.
“With this east wind, I’m going to move a little closer to shore, because if the bag is floating, it would have been pushed that way, and in the shallower waters, if it sank, we might pick it up with the fish finder.”
The Colombian nodded, showing he bought that.
It was a legitimate thought process, but Cap also hoped that by getting closer to shore, he might find an opportunity to get out of this situation.
He didn’t know. He was grasping at anything.
Maybe he should just run the boat aground and take it from there, but he thought better of that, because that would surely cause someone to get hurt or killed.
Jonathan let out a yelp.
Cap’s gaze flew to him.
“You sure fucked this up, buddy,” the second Colombian on their boat said to Jonathan.
The dealers’ increased edginess suggested they must be pushing up against a deadline.
The sidekick pushed Jonathan, and he flew forward with no way to prevent himself from face-planting, since his hands were still zip-tied behind his back.
Jonathan groaned upon impact, and when he lifted his head, Emma winced and threw her hand over her mouth. Jonathan’s nose was about as crooked as Cap had ever seen. Blood poured out of it. The man swung his boot into Jonathan’s side, drawing an agonizing groan from him.
“Enough!” the leader barked out.
Cap kept his gaze on the man in charge and wondered what he’d do next.
“Toss him. He’s of no use to us. I’m not going to pay for his mistake. At least we can tell Marco we took care of the problem.”
Marco who? Cap pondered. He’d file that name for later.
“No!” Emma exclaimed as she rushed forward, throwing herself in front of the tall man, barking orders.
He shoved her back as if the weight of her was nothing to him, and she tumbled to the ground.
She bounced back up and begged the man not to throw her ex overboard.
He pushed her again. Cap moved quickly and caught her in a full-on embrace.
His arms held her tightly with her back pressed firmly to his chest. Somehow, she weaseled herself around and threw her arms around him, clinging to him as if her life depended on it.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured low, for her alone.
“Can’t we just…”
“Toss him now!” the ringleader said, cutting off Cap’s words.
Jonathan kicked at the man who tried to pull him from the deck. The leader flew down the ladder and grabbed Jonathan by his arms. His helper grabbed Jonathan’s feet, and they threw the flailing man over the side of the boat.
With as much as it pained him, Cap did nothing but hold Emma. He knew he would have lost the fight, and ending up dead, too, wouldn’t help these ladies out of this horrid situation. Emma tried to pull away from him, but he gripped her harder.
Jonathan bobbed up and down. Cap already knew from the first time he saw this guy swim that he wasn’t a strong swimmer. He’d never make it the mile to shore. Even if he had the use of his hands.
Hailey pulled a life ring from the hook next to the cabin door, but before she could toss it to the drowning man, the ringleader snatched it from her.
“Next person who tries to help him dies.”
The ladies were silent as Jonathan begged for help.
This was one of the most horrifying things Cap had ever seen, and he’d seen a lot of shit during his drug investigating days.
Cap moved the boat away from Jonathan. The cigarette boat followed.
He risked a glance back. Jonathan had flipped himself onto his back. How long could he float among the low rolling waves? If he stayed calm and floated, maybe the wind would carry him to shore. There was a chance he could make it, but all the stars would have to line up right.
Cap shifted his gaze to Hailey and Morgan, who clung to one another. The sidekick Colombian stood just a couple of feet from them. Eyes on them. Gun in hand.
He hoped to hell that Mick picked up on his hint and contacted the authorities. A standoff on the water could certainly be dangerous, but it was their best shot.
“What’s that?” the ringleader asked as he pointed to the fish finder.
Cap fixed his gaze on the screen. “Hard to tell, but it looks round. Maybe a big tire.”
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only piece of garbage lying on the bottom of Lake Michigan. There was an assortment of items, including a small boat nearby.
A school of fish popped onto the screen. Fishing. They should be fishing. That’s what they’d set out to do. Never did he imagine he’d be looking for a bag of drugs.
Cap looked over his shoulder. He could no longer see Jonathan. He hoped he was surfacing and that he just couldn’t see him among the rolling waves. The chilly waters of Lake Michigan wouldn’t do Jonathan any favors, and without the use of his hands, this was a recipe for disaster.
Cap was about to return his gaze forward when he glimpsed a spot of red near the shore. Kayaker? For Jonathan’s sake, he hoped so. Maybe the kayaker would see him.
He turned forward.
Emma stared at the surface of the water. She sobbed. The other girls were hysterical. He could even hear Carly sobbing on the other boat. They cried so loud he couldn’t think, but he needed to.
Hold on, ladies, he thought. Just hold on.