Blood Work

46

THE BILGE WAS a claustrophobic crawl space full of the dizzying fumes of gasoline. McCaleb had an old T-shirt wrapped around his face like a bandit but still the fumes filled his lungs. There were nine bolts that held the fuel filter he was changing in place. He had three in and tightened down. He was struggling with the fourth, angling his face forward in a vain effort to keep the sweat from running into his eyes, when he heard her voice above him.

“Hello? Anybody home?”

McCaleb dropped what he was doing and jerked the shirt from around his face. He crawled to the open hatch and came up. Jaye Winston was standing on the dock waiting for him.

“Jaye. Hey, what’s up? Come on aboard.”

“No, I’m on the run. I just wanted to stop by and let you know they found him. I’m on my way down to Mexico.”

McCaleb raised his eyebrows.

“He’s not alive. He killed himself.”

“Really?”

“We’re dealing with the Baja Judicial Police so nothing is for sure until I get down there, but they found him washed up on the beach in a place called Playa Grande. Down on the coast. Shot himself in the heart. A boy who takes care of horses on the beach found him. That was two days ago. We just got the news.”

McCaleb looked around. He saw a man in a white shirt and tie loitering near the gate to the gangway. Her partner, he assumed.

“Are they sure it was him?”

“They say so. The description is close. Plus they tracked him back to a trailer off the beach. They found computers, photos, all kinds of stuff. Looks like our guy. Plus he left a good-bye note on the computer screen.”

“What did he say?”

“Well, this is all secondhand, but essentially he took responsibility for his actions and said he deserved to die for them. It was short and sweet.”

“They find a weapon?”

“Not yet but they’re sweeping the beach with metal detectors today. If they find it, it will probably be our HK P7. The bullet taken during the autopsy was a Federal FMJ. We’ll see if we can borrow it for comparison to our cases up here.”

McCaleb nodded.

“So how are they playing it out?”

“Pretty simple. The guy knows we’re on to him, gets an attack of remorse, writes his note and goes down to the beach, where he puts one in his heart. The tide took him into the rocks there and the body got hung up. That’s why it wasn’t carried out to sea. We’re going down to have a look at things. And to get prints. Probably won’t get gunshot residue because the body was in the water. But one thing’s for sure, were not going to close it unless we’re absolutely sure it was Crimmins.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

“I just want to make sure because it just didn’t seem like it was heading toward a suicide, know what I mean?”

She was looking at him intently.

“Well… you never know.”

She nodded and for the first time she looked away from him. She checked on her partner, who was watching them from a distance that put him well out of earshot.

“How was Vegas, Terry?”

He sat down on the gunwale and put the wrench he had been working with down next to him.

“Uh… well, I didn’t really go anywhere. I decided that if I didn’t get this thing running, it might never happen. I turned off the phone and just worked on the boat. I think it’s finally ready to go.”

“Good. I hope you catch a lot of fish.”

“I will. You come over some day, I’ll take you out to catch a marlin.”

“I might take you up on that.”

She nodded and took another look around the marina.

“Well, I guess I better go. It’s a long drive down there and we’re getting a late start.”

“Happy hunting.”

“Thanks.”

She made a move to go but then hesitated and looked back at him.

“I saw your Cherokee up there in the lot. You ought to get it washed, Terry. There’s an awful lot of dust on it.”

Their eyes held each other’s for a long moment then, the silent transmission clear.

“I’ll do that,” McCaleb finally said. “Thanks.”