Chapter Six
As it was, she didn’t need anything special.
Apart from being open-minded with food, she was happy to spend time with her brother—something that had become less and less frequent in recent times because of their busy schedules.
But with no other living relatives, Raquelle was determined not to let her relationship with Eddie fall by the wayside.
Not if she could help it.
So she drove to the marina, exuberant and ready to dine, laugh, reminisce about their childhood when both had such fun but couldn’t wait to grow up—and even try to break down where things went wrong in their failed relationships.
As far as Raquelle was concerned, nothing would be off limits. She just wanted to be herself and expected the same from Eddie.
When she arrived at Knotter Marina, Raquelle routinely left her car and headed for the walkway. She nearly bumped into a tall man wearing a hooded sweatshirt, dark jeans, and dark running shoes. The hood was covering his head. He glared at her with dark eyes but said nothing.
Neither did she as he quickly walked away as though late for an appointment.
Raquelle turned from the man and resumed moving across the dock toward her brother’s boat.
She glanced nonchalantly at the rude man who almost bowled her over and saw him look back at her, as if sensing she was looking, before vanishing from sight.
Refocusing, she gave a sweeping scan of the other boats docked on opposite sides of Eddie’s pontoon.
Just as she got within a few feet of it, Raquelle saw Eddie on board waving at her, grinning cheerfully while inviting her to climb aboard. She giggled while accepting the invitation.
But before she was able to take another step, the pontoon suddenly exploded into flames. She watched in horror as her brother was being burned alive, his screams excruciating to hear.
Feeling an overwhelming urge to help him, Raquelle started to race toward the boat while crying out for help. Before she could get there, powerful arms held her back, against her wishes. Unable to break free, she twisted her neck and locked eyes with her ex-husband.
As determined as she was to save her brother, Landon was just as driven in preventing her from burning to death too.
When she looked back to the boat that was totally engulfed in a ball of fire and fury, Raquelle screamed as though she were being consumed by the fire.
RAQUELLE HEARD MOANS coming from her mouth as she opened her eyes.
It took her a few moments to adjust to the darkness in the wee hours of Saturday morning to grasp that she was in her rustic platform queen bed.
The terrifying experience was only a nightmare.
None of it was real, thankfully, she thought.
Not that it took away from the reality that Eddie’s boat was bombed and that he was probably supposed to be on it.
But he wasn’t. It gave her something to hold on to.
He might still be alive. And not physically harmed.
Dragging herself out from beneath the cotton sheet, Raquelle realized that her silk chemise was wet from perspiration.
She wasn’t surprised that her body temperature had risen when being hit with such an awful dream.
I’m glad that Landon was there, like in real life, to prevent me from jumping into the fire and perishing, she told herself.
She only wished he had been there for her before their marriage went sour.
Or was that being totally unfair to him?
Neither had necessarily seen what was coming to somehow prevent things from playing out as they had.
After removing the chemise and tossing it into the washer, Raquelle dried herself and slipped into a short, knit nightgown. She padded barefoot down the stairs and grabbed a bottled water from the refrigerator, downing half of it.
She heard the floor creak and thought that someone might be inside the house. Eddie? Or had the man who hovered around her car—and might have set off the bomb on Eddie’s boat—found out where she lived?
“Eddie…?” Raquelle called out tentatively. No response. She tried again. No answer.
Her first instinct was to call Landon and report a possible break-in. But was that really necessary? Was it a smart idea to allow herself to become dependent on her ex-husband, who likely had someone else in his life these days?
There were no more sounds, and Raquelle now suspected that the creaking was nothing more than the typical noise she had grown accustomed to since moving to the house. Couple that with still feeling jittery after the nightmare and she could see how easy it was to be spooked.
She went back upstairs to bed, while wondering if there was any way she could go back to sleep—given the confluence of Eddie and Landon playing with her mind tremulously.
* * *
KATIE KITAGAWA HAD no doubt that they could pull this off as she rode alongside Zach Fajardo in his gray Chevy Tahoe SUV.
Though she was ten years his junior and they weren’t a match made in heaven—unlike with her real partner in romance, Tony Razo, or for that matter, Zach and his wife, Celeste—they got along well, and Katie saw no reason why they couldn’t walk into that art gallery owned by Ivan Pimentel and convincingly pretend to be a couple fascinated by Native American art.
Never mind that undercover work wasn’t exactly either of their forte as FBI special agents—desperate times called for desperate measures.
Or at least it felt as though they needed to step up and do their parts to build the case against the suspected international art lawbreaker.
Particularly with Landon’s CI, Eddie Jernigan, inaccessible and probably in serious trouble.
With or without Jernigan, we still have a job to do, Katie told herself, while mindful that Landon’s relationship with him through his former marriage made the CI’s disappearance and possible murder personal as well as business.
“Well, here we are,” Zach said concisely as he pulled into the parking lot of the Beaks Art Gallery on State Street in West Columbia.
“Here we are,” Katie mimicked him lightheartedly, though serious in their mission.
The gallery was believed to have been used by Pimentel to sell Native American stolen works of art that would need to be repatriated to their rightful owners.
“We’ll see if the art gallery has what we’re looking for. ”
“Sounds good, girlfriend, wife, or whatever you wish,” he responded playfully.
“Close friends with no benefits,” she joked. “But, yes, looking every bit as a couple, to pull this off.”
“Got it.” He smiled. “And if we spot any of the stolen paintings on our radar, we can take it from there—while watching the federal charges continue to pile up against the crooked art dealer.”
Katie added, “Not to mention any other charges that could be forthcoming as it pertains to the missing Eddie Jernigan.”
“Yeah, there is that,” Zach concurred as they got out of the car.
Dressed in casual attire, the two went inside the art gallery, which was small and cozy. Framed paintings lined the walls with other pieces on display tables.
Katie decided on the spur of the moment to hold Zach’s hand—as if they were a couple on full display rather than undercover FBI agents—when they were approached by a fortysomething, thin woman with silver hair in a finger waves style.
Her nametag identified her as Lucille Thiessen, a sales associate.
“Welcome to Beaks Art Gallery,” she spoke cheerfully.
They acknowledged this coolly, and Katie said, “We spotted the gallery while driving by and thought we’d take a look inside.”
“I’m happy you did.” Lucille showed her teeth. “Are you interested in anything in particular?”
“As a matter of fact, we are,” Zach said, releasing his hand from Katie’s. “Can you show us what you have in Native American paintings? It would be great to add a piece to our collection.”
“Sure, I can help you with that,” she said. “We have some magnificent original works of Native American art, both historical and contemporary, by some wonderful artists.”
“That’s great,” Katie told her, sounding excited but actually intrigued at what they might find.
“Follow me,” the sales associate told them.
They did just that, holding hands again for effect, as Katie and Zach were led to a section of the gallery where they were tentatively able to identify at least one stolen painting that they were looking for.
* * *
LANDON GOT WORD from Katie that she and Zach had zeroed in on two stolen Native American paintings that Ivan Pimentel had managed to get his hands on, including an early twentieth-century portrait of a woman belonging to the Waccamaw Siouan Indian Tribe of North Carolina and a modern landscape that was painted by renowned Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma artist, Jordana Teehee.
Both works of art would be further evidence used against Pimentel when building the case.
While driving to the suspect’s main hub, called the Pimentel Gallery, on Lincoln Street in Columbia, Landon couldn’t help but think that they already had enough dirt on Pimentel to put him away for a very long time.
But there was still more to be had to put even more pressure on him and his criminal enterprise and associates.
That included tying Pimentel to Eddie’s disappearance, which seemed to Landon to be a strong probability.
Along with Eddie himself, his laptop was missing.
Both Eddie’s cell phones last pinged by Knotter Marina—around the time his pontoon exploded from the IED.
The lack of communication from his previously dependable CHS was disturbing to Landon, to say the least. He considered that Eddie could have been kidnapped and was being held captive somewhere while being forced to reveal what he had shared with the FBI.
Raquelle’s brother could also be injured and unable to communicate— assuming he was still alive.