Page 74 of Wild Tempest

JD and I spent the next two days pulling that sonar towfish around hell’s half acre and found a truck bed, several tires, and part of a sailboat.

No bodies.

We had just pulled into the marina at the station after a day on the water when I got a strange phone call. It was from an unknown number.

I swiped the screen and took the call. “This is Deputy Wild.”

“Hey, Gringo,” a familiar voice said. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going. Who is this?”

“You know who this is. Surely you haven’t forgotten my kindness on Whistler Cay.”

“What can I do for you?”

“It’s what I can do for you.”

“What is that?”

“You’re not so good at your job,” the drug trafficker said. “You can’t even bring a simple murder case against an obvious killer.”

“How did you get my number?”

“It wasn’t hard. Do you want my help, or don’t you?”

“How can you help me?” I asked.

“You’ve been looking in the wrong place.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I can tell you where Martin Harris dumped the bodies.”

“Where?”

He sighed. “Maybe I should let you chase your tail some more.”

“I don’t have time for games.”

“I may have been near Whistler Cay when Martin moved the bodies of those kids. I’ve been following this on the news. It’s like a soap opera. I’m kind of a true crime buff. I can’t get enough of that shit. Those documentaries suck me in, bro.”

“Why didn’t you say something before?”

“Why should I have?”

“Why now?”

He chuckled. “Maybe I don’t like that guy. Maybe I need a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” I asked, having a suspicion of where this was going.

“I’ve got a friend. He’s just a kid, really. Got popped with 2 kilos of powder. He’s looking at 15 years minimum. Maybe 30. He’s a good kid. Needs a second chance. You help me out, I’ll help you out.” Then he added, “You owe me.”

“Is this kid related to you?”

He laughed. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“When did he get arrested?”