Caribbean Rescue (Coastal Fury Book 16), Matt Lincoln [best book recommendations .txt] 📗

little reluctantly. “It smells amazing, and I’m always up for trying a new and exciting local dish, but we really should try to get some investigating done before we take a break.”

“We can come back closer to dinner time,” Olivia suggested. “There’s a lot of stuff here I’d like to try out too. We can have a look around after we finish up for the day.”

“That sounds good.” I smiled at her.

As we continued down the boardwalk, I couldn’t keep my eyes from drifting over to the shops and restaurants lining the walkway. One, in particular, caught my eye, a hip-looking bar that was crowded with tourists. I wasn’t certain at first what about it had drawn my attention since it didn’t look any different from any other tourist-trap bar.

Then I realized what it was. A young woman was standing near the main entrance. She didn’t look all that different from the rest of the tourists, but her behavior was strange. She was standing almost unnaturally still, and something about her posture was setting off alarm bells in my head.

“Hey, Ethan!” Olivia’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. I looked up, and it surprised me to discover that I’d lagged behind the rest of the group. “Hurry up!”

“Sorry,” I called back distractedly as I looked back at the bar.

The girl was gone.

I blinked and wondered If I’d just imagined it. It was odd, and part of me wanted to go investigate, if only to ensure that I hadn’t been seeing things. I had to focus on the case now, though, so I pushed the thought to the back of my mind.

“Oh, I see boats,” Olivia remarked a few minutes later. Sure enough, a few yards away, just off of the beach, was a small docking area lined with boats of various sizes.

“This is where all the boats on this part of the beach dock,” Walter informed us. “The man we are looking for is most likely working somewhere around here.”

The area was dotted with signs advertising fishing trips, boat rentals, and even scuba lessons, so I knew that Walter must be right about this being the spot.

We stepped off the boardwalk and onto the sand toward the water where the boats were docked. There were markedly fewer tourists on this part of the beach. Most of the people walking around appeared to be fishermen and boat workers, though there were a few tourists milling around, most likely in search of a boat rental.

I kept stumbling as I made my way across the beach. The sand was so fine and smooth here that it shifted and gave way easily as I stepped over it, and I just knew I was going to end up with sand in my shoes by the end of this.

“Excuse me,” I called to one of the men standing on the boat nearest to us. “We’re looking for a Kenneth Johnson. He rents boats out here.”

“Kenny?” the man asked as he stepped off the boat to come to speak with us. “Yeah, he works down on the other end of the docks. But uh, just between you and me, my service is a lot better, you know? Faster boat and cheaper price, too.”

“Thanks,” I replied. “But we aren’t actually trying to rent a boat.”

“You need a guide?” the man asked immediately. “Maybe some fishing equipment? I can tell you right now, you won’t find anything better than what we offer here at Jacob’s Boats.”

“We actually need to question him with regard to a criminal matter,” Olivia interjected.

The man glanced up at her and then seemed to suddenly notice Walter for the first time. The smile fell from his face the moment he spotted the police uniform.

“Ah, I see,” he mumbled awkwardly before pointing down toward the end of the dock. “Well, uh, Kenny’s over there. Down by the pier, you can’t miss it.”

“Thanks,” I replied, but the man had already turned around and was getting back onto the boat.

“You know that guy?” Holm asked Walter as we started down toward the pier at the edge of the dock. “He got all quiet the moment he saw you.”

“Nah.” Walter shrugged. “Probably just didn’t want to talk to a cop. Turks & Caicos is a beautiful place, full of friendly people, but that doesn’t mean there’s no crime here. The thing is, though, people here are a close-knit bunch, especially these fisherman types. They aren’t going to want to talk ill of one of their own, even if they do know something.”

“Great,” Holm grumbled. “Just what we need on a case where we already have almost no clues.”

We made our way down the line of boats. Finally, we made it to the wooden pier that the other man had directed us toward. Two boats were docked right beside it, one a little speedboat, and the other a larger fishing boat similar to the one we’d found Allison’s body in. A large hand-painted sign was jammed into the ground just in front of the boats, advertising various services such as guided fishing and boat rentals.

“Hello!” a young man with curly hair and deeply tanned skin called from one of the boats as he spotted us approaching. He jumped nimbly off and walked toward us. “How can I help you folks? Interested in a boat rental?”

“Are you Kenneth Johnson?” I asked him.

“Yeah, why?” he replied, the smile slipping off his face just a little as he eyed us warily.

“I’m Agent Marston with MBLIS,” I introduced myself as I pulled my credentials out of my pocket to show him. “This is my partner Agent Holm, and this is Agent Hastings with the FBI. We need to speak to you about the person who stole your boat a few days ago.”

“Oh, that,” he snapped, his face twisting into an annoyed pout. “So you finally caught that girl, huh? Crazy cow. Just jumped into my boat, with a kid no less, and took off at full speed! Took a third of my business