Back Waters, page 16
“How is he?” asked Rick.
“A nurse just came by and said he’s stable. He has a concussion and they have him medicated pretty heavily,” replied Gary.
“When can we see him?”
“She said she’ll let us know. They are waiting for the results of his MRI. He’s awake and responsive, but they don’t wanna upset him until they know the extent of the damage. All we can do is wait.”
“Where’s Carson?” asked Rick.
“He’s at the condo. I told him to stay back behind and hold down the fort. He’s meeting with the Okaloosa Sheriff’s Department later today to see if he can review the surveillance video and offer any assistance. His FBI history carries some heavy weight,” replied Gary.
About thirty minutes later, a doctor stepped into the waiting room.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Cannon. Who here is family for Johnie McDonald?”
“Hi, Doctor. I’m Rick Waters, his employer. We are pretty much all his family as he has no one he’s related to in Destin.”
The doctor flipped over some of the papers in his folder.
“Oh yes, Mr. Waters. You are listed as his emergency contact. He sustained some serious injuries to his rear cranium and upper abdomen. He has two broken ribs and a small fracture on his right arm. The main thing we are watching for is swelling in the parietal ridge.”
“Layman’s terms, Doc,” said Rick.
“It’s the area just above his right temple. He took the biggest blow there. He’s very lucky. If he had been hit in the temple, he most likely wouldn’t have survived.”
“Can we see him? Is he conscious?” asked Possum.
“He’s quite conscious. He was going on and on about somebody named Chief and how he didn’t wanna ruin the reunion.”
“That’s just like Johnie. Always putting other people first. Chief is my pet cockatoo. He is returning today from the vet with his own injuries. It’s a long story,” replied Rick.
“I’ll send the nurse out as soon as it’s okay to visit. Probably pretty soon, I think.”
The doctor shook everyone’s hands and disappeared behind two doors. About twenty minutes later, a nurse appeared.
“I can let three of you in at a time to visit. Who’d like to go first?”
Gary nudged Possum forward.
“Y’all go. You’ve known him longer.”
Rick, Jules, and Possum followed the nurse to Johnie’s room.
“Hey there, bud. How you feeling?” asked Rick.
“I have a splitting headache and I can barely breathe because of the pain in my ribs, but other than that I’m awesome,” said Johnie with a half grin.
“What happened? Did you get a look at who hit you?”
“I was walking down to the boat and took the car ramp that goes down to AJ’s. I usually go that way. All of a sudden, WHAM! I felt something hit me in the back right side of the head. It knocked me to the ground and I slammed my face into the concrete. I spit out two teeth. I flipped over, trying to protect myself. The person swinging was wearing a hood and sunglasses. The bat hit my arm when I tried to block it. That cracked my left arm bone, I mean ulna, as the doctor called it. I reached up after taking several more hits across my ribs and tried to grab the guy. At first, I didn’t know if it was a guy or a girl, but when I grabbed his shirt, I ripped it and I saw chest hair.”
“Did you get a look at his face?”
“Not very well. All I could tell was that he had a beard. But when I ripped his shirt, I did spot something important. There was a tattoo on his chest of the skull of a goat on top of an upside-down cross. I’ve seen that symbol in movies about Satan. It freaked me out. He was about to swing at me again when someone yelled. He ran off and I passed out. The next thing I knew, I was in the ambulance.”
“Man, that is freaking weird. Was he a biker?”
“I don’t think so. Maybe? When I ripped his shirt, his hood pulled down too and I could see he had short hair. That doesn’t mean anything. I only saw the side of his face, but for some reason he appeared to be clean cut. His beard was tight, not scraggly, and no earrings. That’s what was so odd about the tattoo. It didn’t seem to go with his look. Maybe like a secret thing he’s into? I’m not sure,” said Johnnie.
“Okay, take care of yourself. We’ll be back to visit. We need to get you out of here and up to the condo soon. I’ll send Gary in. Maybe he can get you some lunch.”
They all walked back to the waiting room, and Gary took their place. Rick and Jules headed back to the condo, while Possum waited in the lobby for Gary to return.
Once back at the condo, Rick introduced Chief to Carson and then gave him the lowdown on Johnie’s condition. Chief seemed content as he munched on a grape on top of his travel cage. Rick needed to get him a bigger cage for the condo and planned to do so later that afternoon.
“Carson, this is weird. The guy who attacked Johnie had a satanic tattoo on his chest. It was a goat over an upside-down cross. Does that mean anything to you?” asked Rick.
“Hmmm, funny you should say that. I was doing some research on Pamela on Facebook and I found out she’s a member of a Facebook group called Mephistopheles Cocoa, and so is her love interest, Michelle. It’s a satanic group that practices on the private island of Cocoa in the Maldives. There is serious money on that island. Half of the island is private and the other half has a super high-end resort on it called COMO Cocoa.
“Jules, didn’t you say Pamela had highlighted two destinations on the brochure on her desk?” asked Rick.
“Yep. One was the Maldives and the other was Cape Verde,” replied Jules.
“Carson, is there any sort of connection between Cape Verde and the Maldives?” asked Rick.
“They are nowhere near each other, I can tell you that. Let me see if I can find out anything about them both.”
Rick got on Facebook Marketplace to see if he could find a big cage for Chief. He checked with PetSmart, but all they had was one that would accommodate a smaller bird. He found one in Fort Walton and messaged the guy. It was a large macaw cage that he had found in a storage auction. Rick talking him into taking a hundred and fifty dollars in cash. It was a great deal, as a new cage that size would normally fetch eight hundred or more.
“What do you want for that rolling tree stand and box full of bird toys?” asked Rick when they reached the seller.
The man thought for a minute then said, “How about an even two hundred for all of it, and I’ll throw in these metal feeding bowls.”
Rick agreed, knowing full well the stainless-steel bowls came with the cage anyway, but the tree stand and toys were well worth three hundred dollars on their own. They stopped at the Rub-a-Dub Car Wash off of Kelly Avenue and thoroughly pressure-washed the cage, stand, and toys. They would be air-dried by the time they got back to the condo.
Possum, Gary, and Carson pulled into the Okaloosa County Sheriff’s Office a little after three. Carson went first and made sure it was okay for Possum and Gary to be in the meeting with the deputy. He told him they were his tech assistants and he didn’t seem to care, as Carson was such a high-profile former FBI agent—an actual FBI celebrity. Several people from forensics introduced themselves to Carson and gushed over him a little.
“Mr. Trimboli, this is Gary and Possum, the tech assistants I mentioned.”
“Call me Jim. Nice to meet you, Gary and Possum—is that right, Possum?”
“Yeah, it’s a long story.”
A special investigator from the Florida Department of Law Enforcement joined the group. Since Johnie the victim was also Johnie the suspect in a murder case, they wanted to see if the assault on Johnie was related in any way to the two cases against him. Special Agent Halsey let Jim Trimboli do most of the talking.
“We scanned the surveillance video from both AJ’s and the Galati Yachts next door. The man who assaulted Mr. McDonald was smart. We saw him on all cameras, and under his hoodie, you can clearly see him carrying what looks like an aluminum baseball bat. He keeps his head down and glasses on the entire time. You can see he’s wearing gloves. The attack happens just between camera angles, as if he knew it was a blank spot. If you watch to the very end, you can see someone running up to aid Mr. McDonald. We followed the Galati cameras and saw the attacker tossed the bat into the bushes in between AJ’s and Galati. I sent a deputy to find it but someone must’ve picked it up. It’s not every day you find a free bat sitting near a parking lot. A fish head probably snatched it. I’m gonna go over the footage and see if I can find who took it and retrieve it.”
“If you find it, will it even help? I mean, he was wearing gloves,” said Possum.
“You never know. Maybe we can find out where it was purchased, or before he donned gloves, maybe there were trace prints on it. We really want it. If the victim had died, that would be the murder weapon, if that gives you better context,” replied Trimboli.
“Are you looking for his transportation as well?” asked Carson.
“As you can see here, the perp rode off on a bicycle. He wasn’t stupid, knowing if he drove there, we might see his vehicle and plates. He may have ridden the bike all the way from his residence if he lives nearby, or parked in one of the lots across Highway 98 and then transferred to the bike. Most but not all of those lots have security cameras. I’ll be going over them this week.”
“Excellent,” said Carson. “In any of the camera views, can you see his chest? Johnie said he saw a satanic tattoo of a goat and an upside-down cross. I already ran it through the FBI database, and the only hit I got was for a guy currently doing time in Ohio for grand theft. He was inside during the time of the attack and doesn’t fit the body description anyway.”
Sergeant Trimboli took notes about the tattoo, and they brainstormed ideas for a while until they called it about four-thirty. He traded cards with Carson, and Halsey gave him his cell number too.
Once back at the condo, they all settled down for some BBQ Possum had put together. Rick set up Chief’s new cage and tree stand and let him play with all the toys. He had destroyed two before dinner was even over.
It was Thursday, and Jules knew Pamela would be going to ladies’ night at McGuire’s. She texted her but got no response. She called her and her phone rang and rang. She frowned.
That’s odd.
“Rick, can you give me a ride over to Pamela’s? She’s not answering her texts or calls. Maybe I should take an Uber?”
“Naw, I’ll take you and drop you a couple houses down and swing around the backside. She doesn’t know my truck anyway.”
They left and took Chief with them. He wanted to go everywhere they went. Rick dropped off Jules and turned the corner onto the street behind Pamela’s house.
As Jules walked up to the front door, she noticed there were no cars in the driveway. She knocked on the door and rang the doorbell. No lights were on in the house. She used her iPhone flashlight to look inside and was shocked when she saw the entire place was vacant. Not a single piece of furniture anywhere.
Jules texted Rick: Coast is clear. Come over—quick.
He parked the truck and jogged around to the front of the house. When he saw no sign of life, he went back to the truck and got his lock-picking kit and two small flashlights and some gloves. Within seconds, they were in. The place was completely empty. They checked every room and then a folder on the bar. It was from WeBuyHouses.com. Rick opened it and asked Jules to snap some photos. The house had been sold for cash for $975,000, made payable to Pamela Killian, power of attorney for Kiefer Killian.
“What the fuck?” said Rick. “I thought he was divorcing her.”
“He was,” said Jules, her brow furrowed. “I wonder if she created a power of attorney after he died? She has a lot of powerful lawyer friends. I’m sure for the right amount of money, anything can be forged.”
Rick pulled up the house on Zillow, and the value of the house was at least seven hundred thousand dollars higher than what she’d sold it for. This had been a fast transaction, as if she wanted to get away ASAP. Rick texted Possum to see what he could find out and said they’d be back over shortly.
They pulled into McGuire’s, hoping Pamela would show up. Jules waited until 11:00 p.m. and was about to give up. The bartender who’d served her and Pamela showed up from working the downstairs bar and immediately went over to Jules.
“Lemon Drop Martini?” he asked.
“Good memory. Last time I was here, you served Pamela and me in this very seat.”
“I remember. I’m gonna miss her.”
“Huh?” asked Jules.
“Oh, well, I assumed you knew. She stopped by today to say goodbye. Apparently, she got some sort of insurance claim, sold her house, and is moving away. She left me a five hundred-dollar tip and a French kiss. Good ol’ Pamela.”
“I didn’t know her that well, actually. Did she say where she was moving to?”
“Naw, she just said some island where no one would ever bother her again. She said it was in the middle of nowhere and mostly private. I didn’t pry any further.”
Jules finished her drink, tipped the bartender, and left.
“Rick! She’s gone. She got the insurance and split town. Johnie is screwed. We are never gonna be able to prove he didn’t do it.”
“Dammit! That throws a huge wrench into things,” said Rick, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. He fired up the Ford and headed back to the condo, his frustration and disappointment showing on his face.
Chapter Seventeen
Possum was up early making coffee when Carson knocked on the door. Rick had just awakened and Jules was moving slow, so she hopped into the shower to try and wake up. Carson handed Rick a flash drive.
“Rick, I’ve been trying to create a profile of the killer and can’t wrap my brain around it yet. Kiefer Killian is a tall, large man. I can’t see how either Pamela or Michelle could overtake him. If they drugged him first, then that’s possible. I still haven’t gotten the toxicology report for Kiefer because he was so badly burned. Once that comes in, I may change my profile. I have to ask you one question, then we can go over the flash drive. My profile is that a man killed Kiefer. Is there any way Johnie could’ve done this?”
Without a single millisecond of hesitation, Rick said, “Absolutely no way. He couldn’t kill a fly. I’ve literally seen him catch a spider on the yacht and release it on the dock. Johnie is no killer.”
“Okay, Rick. I had to ask. I’m gonna put my focus on the man who attacked Johnie. If we can place that tattoo, we’ll have the killer. I’m certain of it. Now, let’s go over the flash drive.”
Rick popped the flash drive into his MacBook. A chart popped up on the screen.
“If you watch the video, you will see how I overlayed Google Earth over the chart and calibrated it with the GPS numbers we got off of Pamela’s HumminbirdPC app. Based on the time frame she was there and the depth of water, I think she was there to get rid of something. Or maybe hide something. What could it be?”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about that. What would someone sink in the water that is valuable and something they might want to retrieve later? The jewels!” said Rick. “Pamela said Johnie stole the jewels from the safe, and they were in a watertight Apache case. Who keeps jewels in a waterproof case in a safe? There’s no need. It’s overkill, unless you plan on sinking them later for safekeeping. As soon as I finish this coffee, we are heading out to Hogtown Bayou. I’ll keep Jules on the boat and show her how to use the fly rod for cover. It’s a popular place to find redfish and specks. I’ll use my small scuba rig and Pulse 8X metal detector and do a round square pattern in the area.”
“That’s a great plan, Rick. I contacted Lloyd’s of London and they confirmed Pamela’s insurance payment was indeed made. They do still have a million-dollar reward out for the jewels. If you can find them, this will go a long way toward proving Johnie was framed. He will at least be off the hook as the jewel thief. I had the knife and other forensic samples sent to Quantico for further analysis. No disrespect to Okaloosa’s finest, but the forensic lab in Virginia is the best in the world.”
Possum went to his room and brought out a large black duffel bag. Inside it was a mini pneumatic speargun and a dive knife.
“Just in case, Rick. A little protection never hurt. You want me to go with y’all?”
“No thanks, hombre. It’s gonna be a beautiful day out there. We won’t be there long, hopefully.”
Jules made a thermos of coffee and packed her binoculars and a chart of the area that
Rick had given her. Rick used his app to have the boat launched before they arrived.
The water was still on Choctawhatchee Bay. Bait fish were breaking the surface and jacks chased them. Rick brought the boat up on plane and set the GPS for Hogtown Bayou. He used the exact coordinates that Carson had given him.
When they arrived, there were several boats in the area but none at the same coordinates. Rick pulled within thirty feet of the exact spot, set up Jules on the bow, and gave her a quick lesson on using the fly rod. She was a natural.
Rick looked around the area and when he saw no one paying attention, he lowered his scuba rig over the side of the boat. He moved to the stern and sat on the swim platform with his feet in the water and pushed record on his chest-mounted GoPro. He stayed there for a minute, making sure he was incognito, and slipped into the water. Within a few seconds, he had donned the rig and was below the surface. With his dive knife strapped to his right leg and the small speargun dangling under his left arm, he began to do a round square sweep of the area.
Jules was doing her best to look like she was trying to land a fish on the fly rod. She didn’t even have a fly or hook on the end. Rick had placed a small BB weight on the line to make it easier to cast but not catch any fish.
A few minutes after Rick disappeared underwater, a small boat pulled up and dropped anchor near the spot where Rick was supposed to be. Jules went into the cuddy cabin and grabbed her binoculars. She zoomed in on the man. He was tying lures onto several rods.
