Troy nodded. “Tiffany was hanging out at the hotel pool. She said Savio was still in his room. I did a walk by and peered in the window to make sure before knocking on the door. No matter how hard I banged, he didn’t budge off that bed. Tiffany showed up with the manager who agreed to open the door after I threatened to close him down for allowing underage drinking at his hotel.”
Troy paused.
“What is it?” she asked.
“The pictures of Savio and Pia don’t come close to how bad he looked in person. Savio was like some ghoul from a horror flick. He was barely breathing, yet when I tried to check his pulse, his eyes snapped open and he lunged for my neck. The son-of-a-bitch tried to bite me. I’m not exactly small and that kid weighed maybe a buck thirty and it took all my strength to subdue and zip tie his wrists and ankles.”
“Flakka?”
“That or meth, I’m guessing. The doc is running the toxicology report.”
“Deb?”
Troy nodded. “When the medics showed up, I lied and told them he was the nephew of a diplomat and to take him to the Naval Hospital. I called the doc and let her know what I thought. She said she would take care of everything on her end.”
“Diplomat, huh,” Sin smirked. “With Lancaster being in bed with Russo, I guess you’re not far off. Good thinking, Stubbs. I knew I kept you around for a reason.”
Sin heard the diesel engine of Danny’s truck start up and watched as he pulled his flat-bed from the boat ramp and parked it next to them. Danny jumped out, eyed the two of them, and pulled a tobacco tin from the back pocket of his jeans. He twisted the lid off and filled his bottom lip with more than a pinch. “Ready to ride?” he asked.
A half hour later, Danny slowed the boat to a stop next to a long pier that belonged to a majestic stilt home sitting in the middle of the glades. The wrap-around porch on both levels as well as the helicopter pad on the roof of the structure had Sin wondering why people called these homes, ‘camps’.
“The guys you’re looking for are around the next bend,” Danny said. “We’ll pass some large cypress on our left, and you’ll see the camp tucked in behind the trees.”
“Are you sure it’s them?” Troy asked.
Danny spit in the swamp and nodded. “I’m sure. When you asked me if I had seen any Jamaicans in fast boats, I knew exactly where to look.”
“How’s that?” Sin asked.
“Ten days ago, my friend Billy was leading a group of photographers out in these parts. One of them wanted to get some up-close pictures of the cypress on that property, so he pulled his boat around back of the trees. There’s a dock back there and what we thought was an abandoned camp. It was destroyed during Hurricane Francis a few years back. The owners never rebuilt.”
“Can these camps be sold?” Troy asked.
“No. The people who own them lease the land. Every lease is the same. Ninety-nine plus years which can be passed down from generation to generation for the life of the lease, but it can’t be sold. No new structures can be built, but old ones can be fixed up and built on to.”
“Back to your friend, Billy,” Sin said.
“Anyway,” Danny said, “when Billy rode around the other side of the cypress, he saw three boats and a bunch of guys fixin’ up the place. Repairing the roof and stuff.”
“That seems to fit with the land lease description you mentioned,” she said.
“Yes, it does. Billy tried to make small talk with some of the guys but the only response he received was a curt word of warning to leave and not to come back. When Billy told me about what happened, he also said he saw the impression of a gun under the guy’s shirt. I came out here the next day to see for myself. The boats were gone, the windows were boarded up, and there was a shiny new chain and padlock on the door. Oh, and I spotted surveillance cameras on all sides of the cabin and in a tree. Someone doesn’t want company.”
“Who owns this camp?” Troy said.
“This camp has been abandoned for years, but Billy said it’s owned by a group of guys in Key West.”
“You said he runs a tour company. How would he know who owns the property?” Troy asked.
Danny turned his head from one side to the other, looking around the Glades. As big as this area is, it’s a tight community. Everyone watches out for everyone else. It’s what we do in the swamp.”
Sin noticed a look of unfinished thoughts on Danny’s face. “Anything else you’d like to add?”
Danny sucked in his lower lip and spit off the side of the boat. “Take no offense to this, and I ain’t bigoted, but the people Billy described don’t seem like the type that would be buddies with a bunch of business owners in Key West, if you catch my drift. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t care if they’re white, black, or green. When I was in active service, I worked alongside men and women of every color, creed, nationality, and sexuality. I covered their backs and they covered mine. That’s all I cared about.”
“After Troy mentioned asking for your help, I pulled your file,” Sin said. “Three tours in Afghanistan as a sniper. Pretty impressive.”
Sin watched her old friend squint but not from the glare of the sun. “If you read my file, then you know what I mean,” he continued.
“How so?” she replied.
“I see it in the way you look at your environment, in the steel of your jaw. You know what it’s like to be in a firefight and have your life in the hands of the men around you.”
Sin said nothing. She just bit her lower lip.
“What branch of the service were you in?”
