Page 69 of Off the Hook

“But we can assume it was not a random wrong-place-wrong-time situation?” I asked, now on the edge of my seat.

“I’d say that’s a fair assumption. And based on the witness’s remarks, you might consider a review of old cases. If you have DNA evidence you want to run through CODIS again…”

“Okay. We’ll check with our colleagues down in Key West,” Oscar said with an understandably deflated air about him. It sucked not being let in on the scoop.

“Aside from your colleague’s ineptitude, is there anything else youcanshare about the case?” I asked, not meaning to sound as bitchy as I did.

“Unfortunately, not much. Still off the record, we’re questioning him for his involvement in a major narcotics operation. He is a hired hand for some very bad people.”

“A hitman?” Oscar asked, his voice still laden with anger.

“Among other things,” Agent Flannigan answered.

I felt nauseous at the thought, but I had to ask. “Please don’t tell me this murderer is in witness protection for his cooperation and won’t be doing any time.”

“For his cooperation, we took the death penalty off the table. But rest assured, he will be spending the rest of his days behind bars. And that deal won’t necessarily apply if he happens to be charged with other murders in the future.”

“We’ll see what we can find,” Oscar said through gritted teeth. “I’d sure like to see that bastard fry.”

“I don’t blame you for that. Hopefully we’ll have his boss there too. In his operations, we suspect that he’s orchestrated dozens of murders in the past forty years.”

My mouth dropped open. “Forty years?”

“That’s right. And we’re getting closer to nailing him with one of his main hitmen in custody. I hope this sheds some light on our insistence in taking over your case. We need your guy to nail his boss. But make no mistake, I’ll help you nail him too if you link him to other murders. Just say the word.”

“You got it. And, on the record, I’m a woman of my word. What flavor smoothie do you want?”

“Pineapple mango banana, please,” Agent Flannigan said with a grin.

“I’ll be right back.”

When I returned with Jim’s smoothie, Oscar was waiting in the Charger. I handed the shake through the Suburban window. “Thanks for offering to help. We’ll be in touch if our search turns anything up.”

“I look forward to it.” He smiled, sucking his smoothie through the straw. “Mmm. This is therealreason I wanted to meet you here. Thanks, Detective.”

Oscar seemed to have left all his anger and negativity in the Suburban, because he was wearing a big smile when I climbed into the passenger seat of his Charger. “I guess we got a new project,” he said, sipping the last of his shake.

“Well before we start digging through old case files to try to find a new case to work, we still have to question the owners of the stolen truck and boat.”

“Yeah, but digging will be more fun,” Oscar said.

The unlikelihood that our search would be fruitful was a silver lining in itself. There was something to be said about living in a sleepy little island town with almost zero crime. But part of me had to wonder if the one of the namesake smugglers of our little cove had been haunting it all along.

CHAPTER 33

COULTER

Waking up with Faith in my arms had become a habit I never wanted to kick. The scent of her hair, the warmth of her skin, was even more addictive than fishing. I lifted the sheet and shimmied to back away from her slowly, so as not to disturb her.

Tiptoeing out to my kitchen, I filled my new Moka pot, smiling at the purple orchid on the counter that Faith had given me along with it. She said it made my house feel more homey. But her being there with me was what made my house feel more like home.

Despite trying to be quiet, whisking the milk must’ve woken Faith. She was a sight for sore eyes when she appeared in nothing but her red lace thong panties. “Why are you up so early?” she grumbled, rubbing her eyes. “I thought we were going to sleep in.”

I forced my eyes up from her perfect breasts to meet her grimaced gaze. “You weren’t supposed to get up until I brought you coffee.”

“But still,” she whined, “the brunch isn’t until eleven, right?”

“Yeah, but we have to drive an hour south to catch the boat out to Paradise Key,” I said, handing her a mug topped with a perfect espumita.

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