Page 31 of Against the Wind

I watched as Martinez began photographing the package and surrounding area. “Let’s work fast before the tide comes in much further. And keep your eyes open—whoever dumped this cargo might still be around looking to recover it. I’m gonna notify Hayes, then I’ll join you.”

I moved a few yards away from the evidence collection team and pulled out my satellite phone. The regular cell networks were still down after the storm, but this would get through.

“Lieutenant Commander Hayes.”

“Sir, LaRue here. We’ve got a situation on Hatterwick.”

“Go ahead.”

I filled him in on what I’d found, including last night’s adventures with Mickey Doyle.

Hayes was silent for a moment. “That break-in at the clinic last night. Connected?”

“Don’t know. The guy we caught, Mickey Doyle? He was in our task force files. He’s got priors for possession with intent. Local PD has him in lockup, awaiting interrogation.”

“Alright. Document everything. I’ll send Bradley’s team to assist with evidence collection and expanded beach sweep. And get in on that interrogation. Keep me updated on anything else you find.”

“Yes, sir.”

I ended the call and headed back toward the wreckage. Martinez had already tagged and bagged the package, while Rawlings photographed the splintered remains of the boat. The tide was creeping higher, waves lapping at the evidence markers they’d placed in the sand.

We had a lot of ground to cover before the water erased whatever other evidence the storm had exposed. But we finally had concrete proof of trafficking activity on Hatterwick. Now we just had to figure out who was behind it all.

I pulled on gloves and grabbed an evidence bag. Time to get to work.

NINETEEN

GABI

The community center parking lot was already mostly full, with emergency vehicles and other cars crowded haphazardly near the entrance. The hurricane’s aftermath had drawn half the island here—some to help, others seeking it.

Inside, folding tables lined the walls, stacked with medical supplies and bottled water. The basketball court had transformed into a makeshift triage area, complete with rows of cots and privacy screens. The squeak of sneakers on polished wood mixed with urgent voices and the clatter of equipment.

Justin waved from where he was setting up an IV stand. “Over here, Doc!”

Kristie intercepted me before I could reach him, clipboard in hand. “Thank God you’re here. We’ve got mostly minor injuries—cuts from debris cleanup, a couple of sprains. Mrs. Jackson’s blood pressure is through the roof again.”

A group of volunteers hauled in more supplies through the side entrance, directed by the emergency management team. Some faces I recognized from the clinic, others were residents I’d treated over the past couple of months. Plenty more I’d simply known all my life. The familiar rhythm of controlled chaossettled over me—not unlike a busy ER shift, just with a distinct island flavor.

I scanned the setup, mentally cataloging what we had and what we still needed. The basic triage stations looked solid, but we’d need to establish a better flow for incoming patients. The mess of vehicles outside would impede any serious emergencies from being able to easily get inside. And someone would have to coordinate with the pharmacy about prescription refills for people who’d lost medications.

I snagged Curtis Bowen, one of the EMT firefighters, and tasked him with sorting out the parking lot. Then I crossed the room to check in with Justin.

I recognized the grizzled old man on the cot. “Mr. Collins, what’s going on with you this morning?”

The elderly fisherman flashed a shaky smile. “Just wanted to check my ticker after all that excitement. Storm had me wound up something fierce.”

I thought of the less than restful night I’d spent at the clinic with Daniel and our captive. “It did that for all of us. Deep breath in for me.” I pressed the stethoscope against his chest. “And out slowly.”

After I’d listened, I eased back, checking the vitals Justin had already gathered. “Your heart sounds good. Blood pressure’s a bit elevated, but that’s expected. How’s that hip doing?”

“Better since you adjusted my meds last month. Sarah says I’m not grumbling near as much.”

“Glad to hear it.” My brain flipped through the mental list of patients I’d seen, wondering if I knew her. It finally registered that Sarah was his granddaughter. Newly pregnant. She’d been the one to bring him in for his last appointment. “Speaking of Sarah, is she keeping up with her prenatal vitamins?”

His weathered face broke into a proud grandfather’s smile. “Sure is. That great-grandbaby’s due right around Christmas.”

I moved on to Jenny Reyes, who’d sliced her palm, helping clear branches from her yard. As I cleaned and bandaged the wound, she updated me on her son’s college applications.

---