Crystal Blue (Buck Reilly Adventure Series Book 3) John Cunningham (psychology books to read TXT) 📖

of our planes flew this week, they’d be shot down.” He shook his head. “I know it sounds crazy, but they stated categorically that we were not to get involved with the Adoption AID concert or our other planes would be sabotaged on the ground.”

What the hell?

Jerry Butler apologized profusely but said their insurer had threatened to cancel them if they lost a single plane, which would put them out of business.

“Grounding our fleet will cost us a fortune, but we have no choice.”

Crystal and I left their FBO, Jerry following us out still apologizing.

“Is that Goose airworthy?” he said as we turned to walk up the dock toward the street.

My gut reaction was that it was a stereotypical floats -vs.-boats snob comment, but then again, the old Beast did look rough. I ignored him and took Crystal by the arm. She was silent and no doubt in shock.

The moment we got to the street, the press descended on us like a mudslide.

“Any news on your husband?”

“Will the concert be cancelled?”

“Are the bomb threats on Seaborne related to your event?”

“Ms. Thedford?”

“Ms. Thedford?”

“Ms. Thedford?”

I shielded her and steered her toward the Frenchman’s Reef ferry down the seawall. The captain was untying the bowline to disembark, so we had to hurry or we’d be stranded amidst the reporters.

One of the newsies grabbed my shoulder.

“Who are you?”

I spun on my heel and shoved his cameraman back with a stiff arm.

“Leave the lady alone or you’ll have to fish that nice camera out of the harbor.” I let my glare linger until I realized the other crews had their cameras trained on me.

Lovely.

I caught up with Crystal and hopped on the ferry just as the captain revved the engine to pull away. We sat pressed between an arguing family and a snuggling couple. Crystal kept a straight face, but I had the feeling she was going to break into hysterics at any minute.

As we neared Frenchman’s Reef, perched high above the point, I studied the cruise ships that filled the western side of the harbor. Massive people-freighters that slogged from port to port laden with enough food and booze to feed five times the thousands they carried. Three behemoths moored end to end, all carrying different flags. Just past them a sun-bleached old sailboat with laundry hanging from its main mast, anchored in front of a huge, sleek, metallic blue luxury yacht. One of the largest private yachts I’d ever seen. Her name was Shaska.

I looked back at Crystal just as she wiped tears off her cheeks.

Damn.

I DROPPED MY FLIGHT bag and duffel in my garden view room at Frenchman’s Reef. Crystal had rooms reserved at several islands for her guest performers and staff. We agreed to meet at one of the outdoor tiki bars in an hour. She didn’t want to eat, but I convinced her she needed to. We went our separate ways to get cleaned up and clear our heads. She said she needed to check her messages.

The police in Charlotte Amalie had been no help. Between Crystal getting attacked in Key West, her husband’s disappearance, and the bomb threats, there was no chance that this was all a misunderstanding.

It had been a long day of flying, and right now I just wanted a shower—

The room phone rang.

News from Crystal?

“Hello?”

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Buck Reilly.”

That voice. Shit.

“And you already managed to get yourself on national television fighting with the press, hotshot. Well done.”

Special Agent T. Edward Booth of the FBI.

“What do you want?”

“To help,” he said. “What else would you expect?”

“This must be bigger news than I expected if you’re sticking your nose into it,” I said. “Are the Virgin Islands even in your jurisdiction, or are you free-lancing toward that next promotion?”

A laugh. “As a matter of fact, the U.S. Virgin Islands are indeed within my purview. We have limited support there, however, so I’m glad you’re—”

“My dance card’s full.”

“So I saw. Looks like the lovely Mrs. Thedford is quite dependent on you. Is she aware of the list of crimes still pending against you?”

“Did you call to bust my balls, or do you have any information that might help me find Crystal’s husband?”

Silence for a moment, then a quiet snicker.

“Junior detective at it again? Well, it’s damn lucky you’re there, son, saves me the gas money to send you down.”

“Wait a minute—what do you need my help for?”

“Because the BVI isn’t in my jurisdiction, and things are pretty frosty with them these days.”

The U.S. and British Virgin Islands were only a few miles apart, but both were territorial and rigidly enforced Customs requirements. Neither government tolerated uninvited foreign law enforcement agencies impinging on their sovereignty. Unfortunately, I’d learned of this first hand on Tortola a few years back.

“Gee, Booth, I can’t imagine you don’t have a stellar relationship with your counterpart in the BVI, given your magnanimous and humble style.”

“Funny. We’ve worked hard to maintain a cordial environment, but with the South American drug and arms trade now utilizing the USVI as a major hub, the murder stats there are the worst of any U.S. state or territory, nearly ten times worse per capita, in fact, so the Brits aren’t real happy with us.”

I hadn’t realized that.

I swallowed the bitter reality that I needed to set my personal grudge aside and see what I could learn that might help Crystal.

“What news do you have about John Thedford?” I said.

“Only that he disappeared on St. John last night. The Park Police have a small installation there, but they’re really not set up for investigative work.”

“Why would anybody threaten these people, Booth? They’re only promoting adoption—hell, they won’t even say anything remotely adverse toward anyone who might have contrary opinions.”

“You mean the bomb threat against that dink-ass airline?”

I wasn’t surprised that Crystal and her husband hadn’t reported whatever threats they’d received. It didn’t seem their nature to let fear slow them down—even if common sense might suggest otherwise.

“That’s not enough?” I