Page 83 of Wild Idol
We had one other major problem—getting the artifact back into the country and through customs. Without documentation, it would likely be treated as contraband. We could get charged with smuggling, possession of stolen property and trafficking cultural artifacts. It’s not like we were acting on official business.
The idol would likely be seized, and we’d have a lot of explaining to do.
Of course, Jack had a plan.
But Jack’s plans can sometimes be a little optimistic.
We sank into the comfy leather seats of the Slipstream G-750 and feasted on a gourmet meal. We may have indulged in a few cocktails.
Jack’s attorney met us at the FBO when we touched down in Coconut Key. He had contacted one of Jack’s buddies in the CBP and given him a heads-up that we were bringing in a recovered artifact tied to a criminal case. The attorney handled all the paperwork, and we kept our dumb mouths shut. The attorney made a good argument for having the artifact transferred to the sheriff’s department. It wasn’t flagged in any federal or international databases.
We conveniently left out the part that Ivy stole it. Though she never actually admitted to doing so.
Before we parted ways, Ivy said, “I guess you guys got a little more than you bargained for coming down to Xaqualta.”
“Just a little.”
“I know things got a little crazy. I appreciate what you did. I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for you when, you know…” She didn’t have to say it. “I should have opened my eyes sooner. The farther I get away from the situation, the more I realize just how messed up it was.”
“Sometimes the fog of war makes it difficult to see what’s happening when you’re in the thick of it.”
She smiled. “I can confirm.”
Ivy gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then did the same with JD. She caught a cab straight to the hospital to meet up with her sister. Her relationship with her father was complex. I hoped she’d get to the truth of it.
I wanted to go home, take a shower, have a few cocktails, and unwind. But the sheriff was on our asses to close out the Sable Fox case. Some new information had come to light. After we caught a ride back to the marina and ditched our bags, we headed over to Sable Fox’s estate.
47
“Can I help you?” a gruff voice asked when I rang the video doorbell at Sable’s mansion.
I flashed my badge to the lens at the courtyard gate. “I need to talk to Sable.”
After a hesitation, the voice said, “What’s this about?”
“Her car that was stolen last week,” I replied in a slow, patronizing voice.
“Hang on. Let me see if she’s available.”
The speaker crackled as it disconnected.
I shared a look with JD, waiting to see where this would go.
To my surprise, the gate buzzed open a moment later. We stepped into the courtyard and walked to the porch.
A hard-looking gentleman in a gray suit pulled open the door. He had a slick head and cheeks pocked by teenage acne. It looked like he was still pissed off about it. He hadthe narrow brown eyes of a predator and surveyed us with caution. He knew we were trouble. “She’s by the pool.”
He stepped aside and invited us into the foyer.
I didn’t need directions to the pool. JD and I walked into the living room. Sable soaked up the sun on a lounge chair by the infinity pool. We crossed the living room and stepped outside. The ocean crashed in the distance against the white sand beach.
Sable greeted us with a cheery smile. “Howdy boys. What’s going on?”
She looked good in that tiny blue bikini, her skin slick with oil. She wore dark sunglasses and a strawberry daiquiri rested on a glass table nearby. She certainly had star quality.
The bodyguard followed us outside and stood by the door with his hands clasped.
“New hire?” I asked, nodding toward the bruiser.
