his Glock with his stiff right hand, shifting it to his left. He held it sideways, ready but relaxed.
“Yes, she does. She wants you to come with me to the police. That’s why she hired me. She was afraid you would panic if you were just confronted.”
Frank looked over at him and saw the gun. “You don’t have the authority to arrest me, Mr. Kincaid.”
“I don’t want you to try anything stupid either.”
“I’m not a stupid man.”
“I know that.”
“I’m not a killing man, either.”
“Then we can just go talk to the police and you can tell them what you know about the ring.”
“I can’t do that. You’ll have to shoot me or drag me. And that won’t be easy with that arm of yours. Besides, neither one of us is going anywhere tonight.”
Frank knelt and prodded the fire. The fire spat out a stream of sparks. Frank’s eyes followed them up into the black sky.
“When’s the first ferry back?” Louis asked.
“Eight.”
“We’re going to be on it.”
Frank’s eyes went to the Glock then up to Louis’s face. “All right,” he said softly. “I’ll do it for Diane’s sake.” He nodded toward the gun. “You can put that away. You won’t need it.”
Louis didn’t move. It was quiet except for the snap of the fire and the waves on the beach.
“The mosquitoes are getting bad,” Frank said. “I’m getting in the tent.” He rose slowly. “I’m not supposed to have a fire out here so if you keep it going, keep it low. And if you smoke, be careful with matches.”
Frank took one last drag from his cigarette. Then taking it from his lips, he calmly used his forefinger and thumb to snub out the glowing tip. He put the butt in his pocket.
“I’m sorry. It’s a one-man tent ,” he said.
“I’ll be fine right here,” Louis said.
Frank hesitated then nodded slowly. “I’ve got a blanket you can use. And some Deets for the mosquitoes. You’re going to need it.”
He turned and crawled into his tent. Louis waited, listening to him rummaging through something. His gaze drifted to the fire, which was quickly dwindling. He rubbed his sore arm, thinking again of what Diane had said about her father, that he had never spent a night outdoors in his life. But it was obvious Frank Woods was a man who was not only comfortable outdoors but knew something about it.
The mosquitoes were a steady whine in his ears. It took him a moment to realize it was the only sound he could hear.
He stood and walked to the tent. “Woods?”
No answer. Not a sound. “Frank?”
Louis flipped back the flap of the tent and peered inside. It was empty.
Louis scrambled inside and pressed a hand against the back of the tent. It gave way, sliced open down the middle of the nylon. Louis held it open and stared into the thick, black brush.
Frank Woods was gone.
Louis withdrew and stood up quickly, straining to see in the darkness. The fire was about gone. There was nothing left but the white-hot glow of the lantern.
Louis snatched up the lantern and trudged up to the mangroves, whirling the lantern toward the black trees. The mangroves came alive, their roots glowing eerily bright against the deep shadows.
“Goddamn it ,” he said.
There was no way he was going into that brush. There was no way he was going anywhere until morning. He slowly backed up, until he was near the dying fire. His eyes swept over the dark brush. Every nerve in his body felt as if it were on fire. He turned up the lantern and sat down.
“Goddamn it to hell,” he whispered.
CHAPTER 14
It was only ten a.m. but Louis could feel the damp heat blanket his body as soon as he stepped out of the Mustang’s air-conditioning. His own smell rose up to him, sweat from the night spent in the tent on Cayo Costa.
The longest night in his life. A night spent crouched in the tent, slapping at mosquitoes and jumping every time something moved outside. He was back at the dock by seven-thirty, waiting for the ferry —- and
“Yes, she does. She wants you to come with me to the police. That’s why she hired me. She was afraid you would panic if you were just confronted.”
Frank looked over at him and saw the gun. “You don’t have the authority to arrest me, Mr. Kincaid.”
“I don’t want you to try anything stupid either.”
“I’m not a stupid man.”
“I know that.”
“I’m not a killing man, either.”
“Then we can just go talk to the police and you can tell them what you know about the ring.”
“I can’t do that. You’ll have to shoot me or drag me. And that won’t be easy with that arm of yours. Besides, neither one of us is going anywhere tonight.”
Frank knelt and prodded the fire. The fire spat out a stream of sparks. Frank’s eyes followed them up into the black sky.
“When’s the first ferry back?” Louis asked.
“Eight.”
“We’re going to be on it.”
Frank’s eyes went to the Glock then up to Louis’s face. “All right,” he said softly. “I’ll do it for Diane’s sake.” He nodded toward the gun. “You can put that away. You won’t need it.”
Louis didn’t move. It was quiet except for the snap of the fire and the waves on the beach.
“The mosquitoes are getting bad,” Frank said. “I’m getting in the tent.” He rose slowly. “I’m not supposed to have a fire out here so if you keep it going, keep it low. And if you smoke, be careful with matches.”
Frank took one last drag from his cigarette. Then taking it from his lips, he calmly used his forefinger and thumb to snub out the glowing tip. He put the butt in his pocket.
“I’m sorry. It’s a one-man tent ,” he said.
“I’ll be fine right here,” Louis said.
Frank hesitated then nodded slowly. “I’ve got a blanket you can use. And some Deets for the mosquitoes. You’re going to need it.”
He turned and crawled into his tent. Louis waited, listening to him rummaging through something. His gaze drifted to the fire, which was quickly dwindling. He rubbed his sore arm, thinking again of what Diane had said about her father, that he had never spent a night outdoors in his life. But it was obvious Frank Woods was a man who was not only comfortable outdoors but knew something about it.
The mosquitoes were a steady whine in his ears. It took him a moment to realize it was the only sound he could hear.
He stood and walked to the tent. “Woods?”
No answer. Not a sound. “Frank?”
Louis flipped back the flap of the tent and peered inside. It was empty.
Louis scrambled inside and pressed a hand against the back of the tent. It gave way, sliced open down the middle of the nylon. Louis held it open and stared into the thick, black brush.
Frank Woods was gone.
Louis withdrew and stood up quickly, straining to see in the darkness. The fire was about gone. There was nothing left but the white-hot glow of the lantern.
Louis snatched up the lantern and trudged up to the mangroves, whirling the lantern toward the black trees. The mangroves came alive, their roots glowing eerily bright against the deep shadows.
“Goddamn it ,” he said.
There was no way he was going into that brush. There was no way he was going anywhere until morning. He slowly backed up, until he was near the dying fire. His eyes swept over the dark brush. Every nerve in his body felt as if it were on fire. He turned up the lantern and sat down.
“Goddamn it to hell,” he whispered.
CHAPTER 14
It was only ten a.m. but Louis could feel the damp heat blanket his body as soon as he stepped out of the Mustang’s air-conditioning. His own smell rose up to him, sweat from the night spent in the tent on Cayo Costa.
The longest night in his life. A night spent crouched in the tent, slapping at mosquitoes and jumping every time something moved outside. He was back at the dock by seven-thirty, waiting for the ferry —- and