Whispers from the Deep: Book of Death Series Book 2

187 pages

Chapter 4

Cole handled the small motorboat alone. He’d decided to go out to the island at first light, in full view of locals and tourists alike. There was no point in being discreet now. His trips by night had not had the desired effect on Kruger. Maybe a more public show of authority would count for something. It might at least keep some of the more vocal councilmen off his back.

As the harbor fell behind, he pondered that first fateful meeting: a small-town sheriff taking a little jaunt to the rich man’s island, just to show his face and make it clear there was a community a couple of miles from the billionaire’s domain; maybe drop a hint that the locals were curious and would appreciate some information; talk about the history of the island, which was patchy, to say the least.

It was all good intentions, being neighborly, showing his face and his badge. And then he’d met the German. And somehow, the conversation had gotten around to Emily, her illness. Looking back, Cole realized his misery must have shown on his face. In his eyes. He’d had to meet those despairing, empty eyes in his shaving mirror so many times. Months passed as Emily had gotten worse, and their medical insurance ran out. Their savings were going.

Maybe he hypnotized me, Cole thought for the hundredth time. Or some hoodoo like that. Why else would I blab all my problems to a total stranger?

Whatever the cause, Kruger had found out. And he had smiled. Cole had seen a smile like that before from a kid called Donny he’d played chess with in high school. Smartass Donny had been a whizz at the game, and Cole had not. And every time young Linus had made a mistake, Donny had smiled that “gotcha” smile.

“There are always possibilities, Sheriff Cole,” Kruger had said. “Possibilities undreamed of by prosaic minds.”

Smug bastard!

What made Cole hate Kruger was that the man had been right. When the foreigner had outlined his proposal, Cole had first been puzzled, then amused, and finally insulted. “Do you take me for an idiot just because I live in a small town?” he’d demanded.

“No, Sheriff,” Kruger had said quietly. “I take you for a man who loves someone more than he loves life itself. Is that true?”

And Cole had had no choice. Angry and confused, he had listened to the details of Kruger’s proposal. The corruption of harmless, out-of-the-way Carswell, with good old-fashioned bribery. Not too difficult in a town that had been struggling for generations, now, barely getting by on fishing and tourism. But to achieve his aim, Kruger had to corrupt Linus Cole first, not with money but with something more precious than all the wealth in the world. And when he’d gone home to Emily with the news, she had gone through the stages he had. And finally, after they’d both cried and raged and suffered, they had done what Kruger desired.

Cole snapped out of his miserable reverie. He’d almost hit the end of the dock. One of Kruger’s security guards was standing, arms akimbo, staring down at him. He tied up the boat and climbed up. The guard asked why he hadn’t called ahead, as usual.

“No time for formalities,” Cole dismissed. “People are talking. I need to see him. Now.”

The guard shrugged and set off for the pathway that led up to the big house. As they walked, Cole noticed how fine the island looked in summer. Wildflower seeds, windblown from shore, flourished in patches of blue and yellow. Insects buzzed and fluttered. But there were no birds. It was an easy flight from the nearby land, but Cole had never seen so much as a sparrow here. Old folk said birds had shunned the island since the thirties. Terrible things had happened then.

Evil places attract evil people, he thought.

I wonder how long Kruger spent looking for this one.

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