Free Wood's Reach by Steven Becker Page A

Trufante, who sat on the floor with his feet in the compartment. Together they examined the interior of the space. The light hit something. At first, Mac thought it was a discarded screw or nail left over from the construction, but when he moved closer, he realized it was a coin. Taking a flathead screwdriver from the box, he carefully dug it out of the tight space it was lodged in and held it up for them to see.
    “Hot damn,” Trufante said. “They pulled a bunch of whatever that is out of there.”
    Mac almost told them he had seen where it was now stored, but thought better of it. Though he trusted the Cajun, this information was better held close. “I’ll check it out later. We better get out of here.”
    They left the house and were standing together on the back patio when Mac remembered the car parked out front. “Follow me.” He led them downstairs and to the dock, trying to remain in plain view of the street. Talking loudly, he told them they could stay out at Wood’s tonight and made a show of helping them into the boat. The engine fired, and he leaned over to Trufante.
    “Take this,” he said, reaching into his pocket for the thumb drive, and after pausing for a second, he grasped the coin too. He handed them both to Trufante. “Stay low in the stern. When I back out, and the mangroves block the view from the street, you two hop off. I think one of his henchmen is waiting in a car a few houses down. If he thinks we’re all together on the boat, my guess is he’ll go and report back to Hawk. Once he’s gone, take the bike and head to Key Largo. Alicia’s expecting you tomorrow, but I think it’s better to get you two out of town tonight.”
    Trufante nodded. “What about you?” he asked and leaned over to tell Pamela the plan. She nodded her head and moved to sit on the transom.
    “Don’t worry about me,” Mac said softly, then called out loudly for Tru to get the lines.
    Trufante went to the bow and released the forward line, then went aft to the transom where he untied the stern line. “Okay,” he called over the noise of the engine.
    Mac looked back at them, and they nodded they were ready. Slowly he reversed, cutting the wheel to swing the bow away from the dock as if he were merely pulling away, but he let it go a few seconds too long, allowing the stern to fall back into the mangroves. The boat shifted when the couple jumped to the seawall, and he calmly pushed the throttle forward and started moving away from the dock.
     
    ***
     
    Hawk sat on the deck of his trawler watching the headlights from the police car recede from the driveway. What had started as a contentious discussion with the deputies quickly became friendly after Hawk placed a call to the sheriff’s private line. The deputies had been warned to back off the antiquities dealer and focus on Travis. Hawk went below and glanced at Ironhead, lying on the couch with an ice pack on his head. Passing by him without a word, he grabbed the bottle of scotch and went for the cabin door, the sight of the man turning his stomach.
    “I could use a swig for the pain,” Ironhead moaned.
    Hawk turned on him. “The only pain here is the one in my buttocks from you. That was my boat you wrecked, and now I have to have it pulled out of the canal before my ex finds out.”
    “What about dropping me by the hospital? I’m pretty sure something’s broke.”
    Taunting him, Hawk took a swig of the amber liquid directly from the bottle. “I’ll give you some aspirin and a glass of water. That’s all you’ll get from me. Go ahead, they’re in the drawer by the sink.”
    Hawk’s gut feeling was confirmed when Ironhead, belying his alleged injuries, jumped off the settee and went for the bathroom. Jiggling the pill bottles he had already removed and stuffed in his pockets, Hawk smiled to himself and went out on deck.
    He heard cursing, and drawers being slammed through the open door, but he ignored it. Mike had a history, one he knew well.