Page 32 of Controlled Chaos

Chapter 18

Porter grinned.His eyes crinkled. “Sure, I know his name and his rap sheet. I wouldn’t be good at my job if I didn’t have a look-see at who I might have to deal with. What I couldn’t find was an answer as to where you two must have crossed paths and why he’s out to get you.”

“I was helping to recruit his brother, Raymond, for Fillpot, and it got him killed. Carlos is looking to return the favor.”

Porter pressed his lips together as if digesting what I’d said.

“So, Carlos has gifts too?”

“I don’t know. Fillpot was only sure that Raymond did. I’m not sure how Carlos is tracking me besides the obvious illegal ways. It’s uncanny that he’s figured out all of my moves. By the grace of God, I’ve been able to stay a step ahead of him, until lately.” I didn’t want to think about my role in Carlos’s loss. My voice softened. “With you, I can’t predict Carlos’s next move, so I’m hoping he can’t predict mine.”

Porter slowed the cart over a bumpy path and took us off road into the forest and over leaves, going slower around the fallen branches.

“You’re hoping he can’t track you?” Porter asked.

“Well, there is really no way to tell, but seeing how I’m on an island with only two ways on and off, I think it’s safe to say that if he were to show up, we’d have some type of warning.”

The silence between us turned heavy like all the bread I’d eaten with my stew last night. “How come your sister isn’t here helping you and blocking the women? You said she could do that, right?”

“She and my mother had a big falling-out when my mom decided to marry Thaddeus. They aren’t on speaking terms.”

“That’s sad.” My heart tightened at the thought. A girl needs her mom and her family. My brothers could be a pain in the butt, but I couldn’t imagine a life where I couldn’t just pick up the phone and call any of them. They’d be there for me any time I needed them, just like I’d be there for them. It was a mutual love/hate relationship we shared, but when push came to shove, we were always family first. “That must suck for you, being in the middle.”

Porter sighed. “Yep. It sure does. Whenever I come out to visit, my mom wants all the details on Dakota and what’s going on with her, and when I return, Dakota is usually at my door wanting all of Mom’s updates, but they do email each other to discuss me.”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t tell either of them anything. Make them reconnect if they want to know.”

“Easier said than done,” Porter grumbled as he continued to drive through the forest. The ocean was on one side of the road. The murky water from near the dock had started to clear. The forest on the other side of us was lush and green with huge trees and banana leaves forming a canopy for those that dared venture into the mist.

“When you were on the island, did you do a lot of exploring?”

“Hikes,” Porter said with a sigh and glanced at me. “Hiking and the outdoors was part of our therapy, along with chair time.”

“What in the world is chair time?” I asked, raising a brow and grabbing on to the golf cart frame when we hit another bumpy patch of dirt.

“Therapy. They perform it in groups and individually on the members.”

“Sounds productive.”

“It was a way to keep an eye on all of us, all the time. There was never a time we went without supervision.”

“If that were the case, then someone should have seen Katerina if she was a participant, oh and also, the thief that stole my clothes wouldn’t have had a chance. Maybe supervision started slacking since the time you left.”

“If it were only one person lying, I could see that, especially if they had a hand in her death, but I think I’ve seen over fifty people at the compound. Someone has to know something,” Porter said. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he maneuvered through a rut in the path.

Porter pulled up outside two small metal plane hangars. One housed a small Cessna that looked like a puddle-jumper capable of holding two to three people, along with a helicopter. The doors on the other hangar sat open, showing it was empty.

“Where are the workers?” I asked, turning in place to see if there was an office or something nearby.

“I think they keep the flight manifest in the hangars,” he answered.

I followed behind him into one of the hangars. A desk and office area sat behind a window and closed door.

I ran my hand over the nose of the plane and patted it. It had been years since I’d flown. My skills were rusty, but, in a jam, I could get us out of here. Now landing after we were airborne might be a lot bumpier than the path we took to get to the hangar.

“You look like you’re petting an animal and not metal.” Porter chuckled.

“I was taught on a two-seater. Where I’m from, learning to fly is almost a necessary requirement.”

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