I wasn’t terribly devastated at losing it, we’d planned on donating the bulk of it anyway. The thing that stung was who’d taken it. And what level of damage a guy like Lynch could do with that kind of money.
“We should go and find Pete,” Ange said. “Start from there.”
After motoring back down the canal and into the bay, we met back up with Pete. Two police boats floated near the jet ski and the two bodies of the men Jack had taken down. We met up with them as well, then debated our next course of action. After a brief discussion, we made the unanimous decision to head back home to Key West.
I wanted nothing more than to track Lynch and put him down just like we had his men earlier that week. But tracking requires a trail, and Lynch hadn’t left one of those. We had nothing to go on, and with all the law enforcement in Florida on the lookout for him, I wondered just how far a white supremacist group could get with two hundred and twenty pounds of gold bars without drawing attention. Then I thought more about Lynch—thought more about how he’d caught everyone off guard when he came thundering into Jones Lagoon with his backup crew of skinheads.
This guy’s got a knack for staying under the law’s radar, and for pulling off the improbable—a dangerous blend of traits for a criminal.
The boat ride back down the Keys to our island home felt never-ending. It was like the weight of everything that had happened was pulling me back, like a planet’s gravitational pull. No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I ran through the scenario again and again, and each time all it did was make me more upset.
Seeing how affected I was by what had happened, Ange snuggled up beside me at the helm and wrapped her arms around me.
“It’s going to be all right, you know,” she said.
I kept my eyes forward, losing myself in the meditative splashing of water against the hull, and the blue horizon.
“And like Pete said,” she added, “at least we’re all okay.”
I snapped myself out of it, looked into Ange’s perfect blue eyes, and kissed her forehead.
“You’re too hard on yourself, Logan. Always have been. You didn’t do anything wrong back there—none of us did. Sometimes things just go awry. I mean, you’re not perfect. No one in this world is.”
I smiled and squeezed her tighter. For what felt like the first time since early that morning, I took in a deep, calming breath, then slowly let it out. She was right. Though we’d been severely blindsided, all four of us had managed to make it out unscathed. There was a lot to be grateful for. I reminded myself yet again how fortunate I was to have Ange in my life, to have someone who was always in my corner through thick and thin.
And the fact that she was more than easy on the eyes was a hell of a bonus, I thought, gazing upon her again.
I kissed my way down her face to her lips and we enjoyed each other’s company as we splashed the rest of the way, passing island after island off the starboard side and admiring the vast ocean off the port side.
THIRTY-EIGHT
We pulled into the Conch Harbor Marina at just past 1500. Jack and Pete brought the Calypso into Jack’s usual slip, and we motored into slip twenty-four just down the dock from them. After tidying up and rinsing down all of our freediving and treasure-hunting gear, I spotted Jane heading toward us. She was wearing her police uniform along with a pair of aviator sunglasses.
“Please tell me you’ve got some good news,” I said as she stepped up beside the stern. “I could really go for some good news right about now.”
The look on her face told me that I wasn’t about to get any. “Can we talk inside?” she said, motioning toward our boat.
I nodded.
While Jack headed into the marina office to take care of a few things, Pete leashed Atticus and took him for a walk down the waterfront.
Ange and I led Jane down into the saloon and offered her a seat at the dinette. Feeling the fatigue of the long, event-filled day set in, I brewed a pot of coffee.
“Lynch got away,” Jane said, getting straight to the point. “They’d hoped to spot him with the helicopter or stop him with one of the roadblocks the local police set up, but they were just barely too late.”
I stayed on my feet, too wired to sit. The three of us fell silent for a moment, then Jane continued.
“There’s something else,” she said. “South Florida Motorsports in Homestead was broken into last night. Three jet skis were stolen, and the night security guard was murdered.”
I clenched my jaw, then looked out the port window.
“Those were nice jet skis,” Ange said. “Top-of-the-line. Expensive. Any place that sells high-priced adrenaline machines like those must have a great security system in place.”
“Ange is right,” I said. “They didn’t get Lynch or any of his guys on the feeds?”
“Apparently, the power to the building was shut off just before they broke in. And the Aryan Order wasn’t on the detective’s original list of suspects. After all, ‘M.O.’ was spray-painted in cursive on one of the store’s inner walls.”
“M.O.?” I said.
“Yeah. It’s the initials of the Miami Outlaws. One of the largest gangs in Florida.”
I shook my head, then ran a hand through my hair.
“I think it’s time for everybody looking
