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

It was a stretch, but I would take any information I could get about the anchor. If Brown was unwilling to tell me about it, I’d have to use whatever avenues I had available.

“Not really,” Morris shrugged, to my disappointment. “I know he scavenges things from off the beach. I’ve seen him down by the shore several times. You’d be surprised what kinds of things wash up. I once found an old ceramic teapot when I was a child, completely intact! Must have come off an old shipwreck or something.”

“Really?” I asked, my interest immediately piqued. That in itself was interesting, though the more I thought about it, the less likely it seemed that Brown would have just found the anchor washed up on the beach. Anchors were heavy, and it probably wouldn’t have moved much from whatever location it had sunk to on the ocean floor, and even if it had, there was no way that Brown would have been able to transport it all the way back to his shop.

“Here we are,” Morris announced as he unlocked the interrogation room door with a key. “We don’t have one of those two-way mirrors, but I can watch from the monitors in the room next door.”

“Thanks,” I replied as I stepped into the room.

The room wasn’t as austere as some interrogation rooms I’d come across. The bare white walls and lack of furniture, save for a plain metal table in the center of the room, definitely gave the place an uncomfortable aura. That being said, the two large windows that were flooding the room with warm light didn’t help make the room feel intimidating, despite the thick metal bars that were stretched across them.

Brown was sitting alone at the table inside. His hands were cuffed together in front of him, and there was an ugly scowl on his face.

“Ugh, you again?” He groaned as he looked up at me. “What, you didn’t get enough back at the store? Just leave me alone.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” I replied coldly. “We need some answers, and we’re not leaving until we get them. How long that takes is up to you.”

“Hah!” Brown barked out a laugh. “You can have fun waiting, then.”

I regarded him carefully as I thought about how I should proceed. There was a lot I wanted to ask him, though, admittedly, some of what I was interested in knowing had nothing to do with our current case. Then again, maybe starting with something seemingly innocuous might throw him off enough to get him talking more.

“Where did you get that anchor?” I asked him casually.

“What?” He glared at me like I was crazy. “What are you talking about? What anchor?”

“The giant one mounted on the wall of your store,” Olivia clarified.

“Oh, that thing?” Brown scoffed. “Hell if I can remember. I’ve been collecting everything in that store for my entire life, ever since I joined the British Royal Navy back in my twenties. Why do you want to know about that old hunk of junk?”

I bristled internally at the dismissive way he talked about it. This was an important historical artifact, and it was painfully obvious that he didn’t see the value of it at all. Honestly, I was annoyed with his response and more than a little disappointed that he didn’t have more information about the anchor, but at least I’d gotten him talking, which had been the most important goal.

“Okay, nevermind about the anchor then,” I muttered. “Why don’t we talk about the reason we were at the antique store, to begin with? Tell us what you know about the trafficking group.”

“Who?” he rasped. “Oh, you mean the girls. Well, not much, to be honest with you. It’s been a while since I went down that way myself.”

He grinned lecherously, and my stomach churned at the grotesque sight.

“I do know one of their main spots is right on the beach up near the north edge of Kew town, off the Millennium highway,” he continued. “The boys in charge come by every once in a while to pick up their goods.”

“And what goods are those?” Olivia jumped in.

“Drugs, mostly.” Brown shrugged. “Makes the girls easier to handle.”

I could feel Olivia stiffen beside me. I knew that hearing him talk about this so brazenly must have been making her furious.

“Wait a minute,” Holm interjected. “This place that they operate out of, is it by a boat dock?”

“Yeah, actually, it is,” Brown replied. “If I do recall correctly, it’s right on the beach, just across the way from where the boats are kept.”

“That explains how they knew so fast,” Holm sighed before turning to look at me. “Yesterday, when we were talking to Kenneth, those guys came out of nowhere, right? They showed up, guns blazing, the moment we started speaking with him. If they were already nearby, then it would explain how they were able to get there so fast.”

“You’re right,” I muttered. “Interesting that Frank failed to mention that little detail.”

“Haha!” Brown cackled. “And here I thought you federal agent types were supposed to be smart.”

“One last question,” I plowed on, deliberately ignoring his obvious attempt to rile me up. “What do you know about a man named Samuel?”

“Samuel?” He parroted. “That’s a pretty common name, agent. I’ve known quite a few Samuels in my day, personally.”

“Cut the crap,” I growled at him. I was seriously losing my patience.

“Alright, settle down,” Brown sighed patronizingly. “I know who you’re talking about. Of course, I know about Samuel. He’s the one who runs all that business.”

“Do you know where we can find him?” I asked.

“Nah.” He shrugged. “Like I said, I’m not too involved in all that. I only ever meet with his boys. Though from what I hear, he isn’t anywhere on the Western Island.”

“Thanks for your help,” I replied sarcastically as I stood up from the table. “Come on. I think we need to go pay Frank another visit. Where did you say he