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

“Let’s do it.”

Once we waded out the fifty yards to where the Cigarette was moored to three different buoys, Jeremy jumped aboard and fired up the twin inboards while I untied us. By 7:01 he was swinging the bow out toward open water.

“I really appreciate this, man,” I said.

“No worries, I’ve just been waiting around to help your friend.” He glanced both ways to check for traffic and added throttle. The twin engines pushed the sleek boat through the harbor like a knife.

“Did you meet John Thedford?”

Jeremy nodded and checked the gauges on our boat, all the while dodging dinghies.

“Yeah, when he first came in.”

Once we cleared the boats, he added more throttle. The Cigarette jumped forward, but he still had a lot of throttle to go.

“Was anyone with him?”

“Not sure, but there was a chick hanging out on the beach. Looked like she was waiting for someone. Might have been your boy.”

We passed the green buoy into open water.

“What’d she look like?”

“Tall with a nice rack is all I remember. No—she had dark, long hair, too.”

Lovely.

“You think Billy really saw Thedford leave on that red Cigarette?”

He looked at me, zeroed in on the bruise on my face, then glanced back up at my eyes.

“That time of night? Billy Hartman can’t usually see his feet.”

Damn.

JEREMY PRESSED THE THROTTLE down hard and the Cigarette roared forward, splitting the sea like a scalpel. At this speed I’d make my 8:00 meeting with the mystery caller.

We bounced steadily in the mild chop, each slight turn of the wheel jerking us immediately in the direction he steered. Conversation was impractical due to the speed of the wind and the snarl of the twin engines, so I mulled over what Billy Hartman, Officer Deaver, and Jeremy had said….

What the hell. I used Booth’s cell phone and texted Diego Francis and asked if he knew anyone with a red Cigarette who might have grabbed Thedford.

I turned back to Jeremy: “Have you ever seen a red Cigarette boat around here?”

“You see all kinds in these islands.”

The authorities must not have believed Thedford left on that go-fast boat, otherwise they wouldn’t have dredged the harbor and searched the beaches. I thought of the Beast, how the mystery man on the phone knew I’d moved her to the airport. I thought about what Jimmy Buffett referred to as the Coconut Telegraph, the way information travels so fast in the islands, especially among those whose lives depend on real-time information.

I was on my own, skipping across the water at high speed with a list of questions that just kept getting longer. The fact that Crystal needed me intensified the pressure to the point where I could feel my heart pounding.

We made the crossing in record time, at least for me, and compared to the ferry it felt like time travel. The setting sun cast a fruit juice glow on the passage between Great St. James and Little St. James islands as we approached the southern coast of St. Thomas.

“You know Diego Francis?” I said.

Jeremy whipped around to face me, his brow furrowed.

“Know him? Hell no. Know of him? You can’t live around here and not.”

“As bad as they say?”

“Gangsta all the way.”

“Was he at the Beach Bar concert the other night?”

Jeremy shook his head, slowly. “Couldn’t tell you, but he doesn’t miss much. If he wasn’t there, you can be sure some of his people were.”

Hmmm.

“You heard any rumors about Adoption AID, like maybe anyone who wasn’t happy about it?”

He glanced back at me with his brow furrowed. “Movie stars and rocks stars in the islands for a party on Jost? What’s not to like?”

Right, what’s not to like.

We passed the ferry I’d watched leave St. John just as it angled away toward Red Hook. Boat traffic got thicker. Commercial and sport fisherman, dive boats, pleasure craft, sail and power, all glided toward destinations like Secret Harbour, Bolongo Bay, and Bluebeard’s Beach Club. My destination, Frenchman’s Reef, was visible high above the water on an outcrop that jutted out mid-island, just before the coast turned north into the harbor of Charlotte Amalie.

A large cruise ship emerged from that gap and dwarfed everything else. I glanced out to sea—-two more massive ships steamed toward St. Thomas, ready to deposit happy-go-lucky vacationers in one of the busiest ports in the Caribbean.

Just as Jeremy let off on the throttles I checked my watch: 7:45. I’d make it.

The phone vibrated in my pocket. For once I was glad to see YOUR MASTER on the screen, hoping Booth had some good news for me.

“Tell me something useful.”

“About time you answered the damn phone. Been trying for an hour.”

“Got my hands full down here, Booth. Have you paved the way for me to land the Beast—er, my plane—in BVI waters yet? I’ve got a hell of a lot—”

“Don’t start bossing me around, hotshot, and what the hell are you doing calling known criminals on that phone I gave you?”

Crap. I’d texted Diego.

Jeremy was idling the boat toward the dock where the shuttle from Frenchman’s Reef goes back and forth to town. I pulled my notebook out of my backpack and handed it to him, then waved my hand to imitate writing while I mouthed: give me your cell number.

“Reilly? I know you’re there, I hear boat motors and birds chirping. I want an answer—”

“The answer is that local law enforcement haven’t found dick, and if they have, nobody’s shared it with Crystal or me, so I’m taking an alternative route to find Thed—”

“Stud Mahoney, Reilly! Forget about the charity case!”

“I’m hoping one will lead to the other, Booth. Now what about my plane?”

Silence.

“Booth?”

“The commissioner of the BVI’s Royal VIPD is considering the request—”

“Considering? Government-time’s even slower than island time. Dammit, shit’s happening fast here and if I can’t get from point A to point B—”

“Where’s Mrs. Thedford? I have some questions for her.”

Whoa. “What kind of questions?”

“Let’s just say your pretty lady friend may not be as squeaky