Risen (Haunted Series Book 22)

before he drank from it.
“Blasphemous but apropos.”
“Fergus, I’m thinking you’ve got the makings of a professor with all that new jargon you’re spouting.”
“Nah, it’s just the poet in me trying to force himself out.”
“The day people identify you as a poet is the day I stop drinking,” Kevin promised.
Patrick stopped at the edge of the cliff as they rounded the corner.  “Where is the yacht?”
“They may have relocated.  Remember we have a storm brewing.  I see Bob waving.  I think we better beat feet before he leaves without us.”
Kevin and Fergus moved past the others.  Their naturally quick movements made it difficult to walk alongside the others.  Murphy resumed his firm hold on Mia’s arm when she stumbled.
“Don’t worry, if I fall, I’ll fly,” she reassured him.
“I don’t think that’s wise.  Too many eyes.  Whit comes to mind.”
“But he’s not here.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it.  That big boat would not have moved unless he wanted it moved.”
“You may be right.  The demon has stopped trying to pry open my head.  I fear its attention is elsewhere.”
~
Captain Holloway, the commanding officer of the Ross Bell, watched as Lead Agent Martin was helped aboard the cutter.  He seemed at odds with the Coast Guard protocol.  He suspected that the Fed didn’t come from any military branch of the service but instead was mined from a police force somewhere.  The group of agents brought strange equipment with them.  Holloway was used to the Drug Enforcement Agency’s men and women.  They worked hand in hand with the Coast Guard to keep drugs from moving through the Caribbean.  The DEA took the time to understand the workings of a Coast Guard cutter, unlike this group who treated the ship and its crew as instruments to be used and discarded.
Agents Boullé and Simpson frequently disregarded the chain of command when working.  “Whatever gets it done, son,” was the answer Simpson gave anytime he was questioned on his orders.
The two agents met briefly with Agent Martin on the deck.
Whitney Martin looked at the stills from the satellite surveillance.  He concentrated on the cove with the crescent-shaped beach.  “They aren’t there.  Where are they?”
“Sir, the yacht appears to be anchored outside the reef on the other side of the island,” Boullé said, pointing out the small boat in the still.
“It doesn’t make any sense.  Why land a team on the rocks?”
“I don’t have an answer for you, sir.”
Whitney had joined his group after collecting intel from a captured drug dealer.  He said that Lanfé was where his supplier typically dropped his cache to be picked up by the locals.  It was safe on Lanfé.  No one in their right mind would venture there.
“Are you telling me that the reputation of this island is just a smoke screen?” Whit asked the man.
“What I’m saying is this: what better place to make a drop or a pickup,” the man said evenly.
Whit took his statement at face value.  He wasn’t looking to catch a drug dealer; he was looking for the missing cruise passengers and crew.  Could they have inadvertently got in the middle of a drug pickup?  If so, they could either be dead or taken.  The island would be the place to find answers.
“The storm’s two hours off,” Simpson reminded Whit.  “Although, we may have bad seas preceding the actual rainfall.”
“Then we go now.  Hit the beach, and find me some evidence of what happened here.”
“Yes, sir.”
Agent Martin seemed to not like the answers he was given to his inquires.  Simpson pointed to where Holloway was standing before he and Boullé left.
Whit looked up and studied the captain for a moment.  He sought out the quickest way to the bridge.  He knocked on the side of the open door before stepping in.  “Captain Holloway, may I have a moment of your time?”
“One moment,” the captain said.  He directed another officer to take his position before he walked over and encouraged the agent to follow him to his office.  Once there, he offered Whit a refreshment which the agent declined.
“I won’t keep you long,” Whit promised.  “I wanted to bring you up to date on our progress and ask a few questions, if I may?”
“I’ll answer what I can under your clearance,” the captain promised.
“Fair enough,” Whit said.  “First, I will be turning this investigation over to the DEA.  I have come into information that a ring of drug runners have been using the island as a drop for product distribution.  The cruise passengers and crew may have found themselves in the middle of a major transaction gone wrong.  They are most certainly dead, but I would like to check out the island for any evidence of survivors before I leave.  The DEA will follow up on the evidence we have collected.”
“That sounds fair.  You mentioned questions?”
“Why aren’t you in visual contact with the Azure?”
“They have a shallow hull and can easily cross the shoals and reefs.  They have anchored on the other side of the island.  We have a satellite trained on them.  If they move, we’ll know it in time to respond.  So far, all they have done is launched a Zodiac to take three passengers to the island.”
“Which three passengers?”
“Two men and a woman.  The woman matches the description you gave us of Sabine Norwood.”
Whit frowned for a moment.  “I wonder why they’re there?”
“Honestly, I get a treasure hunt vibe from these folks, agent.”
“It wouldn’t be that unusual. The woman is a known sensitive, a very expensive clairvoyant.  Perhaps they are using her to seek out answers from the past.”
“Agent, with all due respect, that’s claptrap.  The only thing that’s in this island’s past are drug runners and, before that, rumrunners.”
“I hope you’re right, Captain. I hope you’re right,” Whit said.
“Anything