The Ocean Dark

62

When the men and women in their Coast Guard uniforms had helped Gabe Rio out of the lifeboat and he’d seen the two grim bastards in FBI jackets waiting for him, he had felt something go out of him. At first it had felt like will, or purpose, or some reason to go on. Only later did he realize that the weight that had been lifted from him was responsibility. Whatever happened next would be out of his hands, and it shocked him how grateful that made him feel.

In those first moments, hustled on board the Coast Guard ship, he had been tempted to spill every detail he could remember about the crimes he had committed for Viscaya. With Miguel dead, he had no one left to protect. He could turn state’s evidence, testify against Esper and the others, do a little time and then start a new life somewhere.

Then he had seen the smug look on the face of the grim, square-jawed FBI man — obviously the boss — and that made the decision for him. The FBI could go fuck themselves. The only two people Gabe really loved had betrayed him. His marriage lay in ruin and those things—don’t think about them—had killed his brother. He’d lost his ship and most of his crew was dead. What more could they do to him than that?

Maybe twelve hours had passed since the Coast Guard ship had found them on the lifeboat the night before. Gabe had asked after the others — Angie and Tori and even Josh — but no one would give him any answers. The Coast Guard officers stationed outside his door would not speak to him. His only contact had been with the FBI, who had questioned him last night, allowed him four or five hours’ sleep, and then questioned him again this morning. Now they were back for round three, only with a twist.

A female twist. A new face. As though that would make some kind of difference.

“Let’s try this again, Mr. Rio.” The words came from Special Agent O’Connell. Thinning silver hair, fiftyish, salt-and-pepper mustache. They had spent too many hours together already, and Gabe had tired of his voice.

“Captain Rio,” Gabe corrected.

O’Connell sighed and exchanged a glance and a theatrical head-shake with his superior officer, Supervisory Special Agent Ed Turcotte. Gabe loved that the assholes introduced themselves like that, as if he gave a shit what brand of agent they might be.

“Are you kidding?”

This question came from the attractive blond woman who had appeared in the room with Turcotte and O’Connell this morning, as though she had been there all along. Of course she hadn’t. Gabe had been exhausted and grieving — he still was — but he could never have encountered Rachael Voss and forgotten her. Not with that small, lithe body and the way she almost flaunted the pistol holstered at her waist. Not with the fire in her eyes and the tension in her every motion, and certainly not with the way she prowled the room side to side like a lioness about to pounce. The woman had smiled at him, introduced herself by name instead of title, but Gabe took one look at her and knew that, in her eyes, he was prey. Ed Turcotte might be running this show, and O’Connell might be his attack dog interrogator, but Rachael Voss had been the one hunting him, which meant that Josh Hart came from her team. Turcotte had already said he was Counter-Terrorism, but the dynamic in the room made it obvious that Voss didn’t work for him.

“Excuse me?” Gabe said.

Voss leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms, trying to act aloof and failing. “I said you must be kidding with this ‘captain’ shit. I’m pretty sure your days as captain of anything but your cell block are over.”

Gabe leaned back and shrugged. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Agent Voss. I mean, I’ve heard all these accusations, but I haven’t seen any evidence. I told you what happened to my ship—”

“You’ve told us shit,” O’Connell interjected. “Wake up, Gabriel. You were just doing a job, man, and look what it cost you. Your brother, your crew, and you can bet your ass it’s going to get you some jail time. The question is, how much? Do you really want to take this hit alone? Give us Viscaya, and we can help you.”

Gabe shook his head, images of Miguel playing across his mind. His brother had grown up to be a trouble magnet, always dragging Gabe into his shit. As boys they had been inseparable, constantly in fistfights with other kids or with each other, sticking together no matter how ugly the scrape. Even then, Miguel’s mouth got them into tight spots, but Gabe had never minded. The first time he’d fallen in love, with a girl named Elena, Miguel had stolen a gold necklace for Gabe to give to her. It made him a thief, yes, but a thoughtful one. He could still remember the gleam of mischief in Miguel’s eyes when he showed Gabe the necklace, not to mention the delicious reward he’d received from Elena in return.

Gabe had loved his brother, even when that love — and his desire to help Miguel keep his job — had made Gabe into a criminal himself. And now he hated him, too. If Miguel had lived, perhaps one day they might have come to terms with what had happened, but now they would never have that chance.

“There’s nothing you can do to help me,” he said. “Can you bring Miguel back to life? I don’t think so.”

Voss stepped away from the wall and walked toward him. She moved easily, despite the gentle bob of the ship on the ocean, and he knew she’d spent a lot of time at sea. Yeah, chasing guys like me, he thought, and was surprised to find that he could not muster up any hatred for her. Jesus. Miguel is dead.

He exhaled and felt himself deflate.

“No one can help your brother now, Captain Rio,” Voss said, and her use of the word made him lift his head. He studied her eyes, trying to figure out her angle. “Everyone you left behind on the Antoinette is past helping now. The best thing you can do is help yourself. Special Agent Hart says you helped save his life last night, that you could have left him—”

“Agent Voss!” Turcotte warned, glaring like the damned Grim Reaper.

“—that you could have left him there, and that if you hadn’t given him a hand, it’s possible your brother would still be alive. That action is going to speak well of you at trial. But you are obviously a smart man, Captain. You know there is going to be a trial, and that you are going to prison.”

Gabe glanced at O’Connell and Turcotte, both of whom looked ticked. He liked that Voss had pissed them off.

“You don’t have any evidence,” he said.

Voss rolled her eyes. “Come on, Gabe. Before this is over, we’ll get evidence off your ship and off the island. Even without it, we’ll have testimony from Agent Hart, as well as from Tori Austin and Angela Tyree. You don’t think they’ll give you up to make things easier on themselves? I don’t know why you’d bother trying to protect the guys you work for. They sure as hell aren’t going to hire you back when you get out of prison. We’ve got you, Captain. So why are you still fighting us?”

Gabe stared at Voss. Then he laughed. He couldn’t help it.

“Fighting’s the only thing I’ve ever done well.” But that only brought more thoughts of Miguel, grim nightmare images that wiped away all traces of his smile. A fresh wave of anger rushed through him and he turned to Turcotte.

“Look, if Josh — if Agent Hart — is awake, then you know everything I said about the island is true. Why are you even bothering with me? Dozens of people died last night. My people. My crew. Maybe they don’t mean anything to you, but what happens next time someone finds that island?”

“We’re here to talk about you, Mr. Rio. Nothing else,” O’Connell said. He had a file open in front of him. “Let’s go back to this fishing boat that Miss Austin told us about. How did you—”

“Dan,” Turcotte said. “Leave it, for now. There’ll be plenty of time later.”

Rachael Voss’s eyes turned stormy and Gabe thought she would argue, but then she relented. When Turcotte and O’Connell stood, the latter closing his file and tucking it under his arm, she moved with them toward the door. “Turcotte,” Gabe said.

The Counter-Terrorism agent turned to look at him. They all did.

“You don’t want to believe me, I get it. But at least check it out.”

“We did,” Turcotte said. “Scratch that. We are. We’re here now, Mr. Rio. If you had a window to look out of, you’d be able to see the Antoinette just off to starboard. I’ve got a boarding team on the way out to her right now.”

Gabe slid back in his chair, fear welling up inside him. He glanced around, knowing he had nowhere to run.

“You idiots. What the fuck are you … I thought you were taking me back to Miami! Jesus!” he shouted. “Call them back, man. Keep your people away from the ship and don’t go near that fucking island!”

He stared at them, saw the shock and disdain in their eyes, and understood how his terror must appear to them.

“You wanted us to check it out,” Turcotte said, eyes narrowed. “We’re checking it out.”

Gabe sank into his chair. Whatever weight might have lifted from him before, another took its place now. He thought he had survived the nightmare, but they had brought him right back into it.

“If you do go out to the island, you’d better use the helicopter,” he said. “They won’t let you leave by water. And whatever you do, get all of your ships away from the island by nightfall.”

“We’ve got FBI and Coast Guard here, Mr. Rio,” Turcotte said. “These people are well-trained, and if it comes to that, well-armed.”

Gabe cocked his head and stared at Turcotte. “Yeah. So were we.”