Spreading the maps out on the table, Jesse said, “So your meeting with Peter Bordon has gotten you thinking the cult idea is a blind?”
“I think it’s an idea. Think about it. We’ve had men checking out every religious group we can find, giving special attention to any group new to the area. The most we’ve found are some questionable Santeria groups, but we’re looking for people who kill other people, and so far, our Santeria groups are only guilty of chicken sacrifices. So far we haven’t found anything that remotely smacks of the kind of cult Bordon was running. And we don’t even have any proof that his cult was involved in those killings. Bordon was never indicted for murder.”
“True. Still…most people believe he ordered the killings.”
“I believed it, too.”
“You don’t believe it anymore?”
“I believe he was involved. But I’m starting to doubt my conviction that he was the mastermind. The latest victim was a Realtor. Her properties were all on the edge of civilization. Bordon’s place was also in that area. The only connection I can think of is that all the properties are along waterways that can be reached through the Everglades. We both know that smugglers, murderers, thieves and worse have taken sanctuary in the Glades. We’re talking expanses that no one has ever been able to patrol completely. So I can’t help thinking the case has to do with something coming into the country.”
“Drugs? They’re the most prevalent. People, smuggled in to get around the INS,” Jesse said. “Arms. The weapons trade is massive.”
Jake nodded. “Running weapons calls for large scale transportation. Same with people. I’m betting on drugs.”
“I’ll have my people keep an eye out.”
“My money says we’re talking heroin or cocaine, where small packages mean big money.”
“Like I said, we’ll be watching.”
“Great, thanks.”
Leaving Jesse’s, Jake frowned, checking his phone. It hadn’t rung in hours. The damn thing didn’t work out in the swamp—no cell towers around. He had to drive east for thirty minutes before he could access his own messages.
Franklin had called in, as had Marty, but nobody had anything to report. Uniformed officers were combing the area with the sketch, trying to find locals who might know something about the victim’s last days.
His third message was a startling one. He didn’t know the voice, nor did he recognize the name. The man spoke in a hushed and nervous tone.
“I’m calling on behalf of Peter Bordon. He wants to talk to you. Without fanfare, if you know what I mean. Bring a posse and it’s off. He’ll talk to you and only you.”
That was it. The nervous, unknown caller had hung up.
Len was still at the bar, sandwiched between Sandy and Curtis. After a couple of quick hellos, she got to the point. “Len, has Karen called you by any chance?”
He shook his head. “Should she have called me? I just saw her last night.”
“She didn’t go to work today, and neither Jan nor I have been able to reach her by phone.”
“I’m sorry, I haven’t heard from her.”
“Did she say she had something to do today? That she was going to call in sick?”
“Ashley, I’m sorry, she didn’t say anything about it at all.”
“It’s all right, thanks. I think I’ll go check on her, though.”
She turned away, slipping back through the office and into the house, then out through the kitchen.
In the car, she slipped Karen’s house key onto her ring before turning her own key in the ignition, so she wouldn’t get there and be scrambling to discover what she’d done with it.
Leaving the marina behind, she told herself that she and Jan were being alarmists. It wasn’t an emergency because someone had missed one day of work and didn’t seem to be home. And yet, it was true that Karen always returned their calls.
As she passed the lights of the city, she thought for a moment that Miami was truly beautiful by night. Night hid the areas that weren’t so nice. Moonlight fell on the waterways and added an aura of soft mystique.
And yet, it was under cover of darkness that so much of the city’s crime took place.
First Stuart. Now Karen.
No. She refused to believe that anything had happened to her friend.
But when she drove up to the house, Karen’s little Toyota was right where she kept it in the driveway. Both sides of her property line were bordered with cherry hedges. A large poinciana tree took up much of the front lawn. Karen had planted bougainvillea all around the little trellised entrance to her home. Everything looked the same as always. So why wasn’t Karen answering her phone?
Ashley stared at the house for several seconds before getting out of the car. There were lights on inside, but they were dim. She got out of the car at last and headed up the walk. The outside light that usually lit up the entrance area was not on. She found herself gritting her teeth as she stared into the shadows of the trellised entryway, silently cursing Karen for not leaving the light on.