“I’ll be waiting on you,” Jace whispered. He stood there, watching them bump open the swinging doors and disappear inside. As the doors swung closed, he got a glimpse of Dr. Knox scrubbed up and ready for the operating room. Good. Colt wouldn’t be alone. Jace turned and found the ever present agents close by. They quietly followed him back to Colt’s room to wait.
***
“It’s definitely a cut. It looks like the locals did a pretty good sweep,” Tommy Wagner said, clicking off his pen flashlight and rolling out from under the wrecked Prius. Tommy was head of the Crash Data Retrieval Department for US Marshal’s Hawaiian field office. Mitch had worked with him for years. He knew his stuff, and if anything differed from what was reported, he’d find what no one else could. “It’s professional and planned.”
“It’s what I thought, too. Either route to town would have had the brakes going at the worst possible time. Someone local has to be involved.”
“It’s hard to see, but the safety on this frame had to give before he rolled. I’d say he was hit from the driver’s side of the vehicle. A precise hit, very intentional,” Tommy said. His head was inside the vehicle now, his body arched through the small opening in the side window. The pen light flashed on, his eyes scanned the roof. Tommy didn’t mention the dried blood on the door’s frame and maneuvered his body farther inside. “Once it gave, it allowed the hood to give a little easier. The safety on the left side held. Interesting…”
“That’s what the skid marks in the road show. I’d say someone sideswiped him at a high rate of speed. There was also evidence he was hit from behind.”
“And he lived through this?” The pen light clicked off, and Tommy worked his body out of the window.
“Yeah. He’s pretty fucked up, but yeah,” Mitch said, standing back, watching Tommy work.
“Surprising.”
“Tell me,” Mitch said. When Tommy looked done, Mitch pulled his notepad out of his pocket and jotted down a few notes.
“Yeah, this is a professional. It was executed with precision,” Tommy added, surveying the damage from outside the car. “Damn.”
“Yeah. Who do you know around here that would do this?” The question didn’t hurt to ask. He knew the answer, but maybe if he asked enough people, the answers might change.
“It could be any of them. Gangs, cartel, any trained mechanic that needed cash, shit, just pick one. Better question is who would have the money to pay someone to do this?” Tommy asked, playing the twenty questions game with skill. “Someone’s pulling purse strings, somewhere.”
“The best I can tell, about fifty percent of the trash in his life could pay with Colt’s own money and would.”
“Nice. Makes for a great family reunion. What’s your next step?” Tommy asked, turning to Mitch.
“The locals are running everything through their database. They’ve assured me they’re on it, interviewing and all that bullshit. I got some feelers out there, but no one’s talking which at this point is pretty damn weird. Somebody’s got to be bragging somewhere.” Mitch flipped the small notepad over and tucked it back in his pocket.
“Unless it’s cartel.”
“Right.”
“He had to have a pretty big mark on his head. Could this guy be on the island for reasons other than the standard vacay?” Mitch had wondered the same question himself and dug a little deeper, looking to see if Colt could be a seller, but he found nothing. Besides, the car was Jace Montgomery’s rental, not Colt’s. As crappy as Colt’s human leech baggage looked, they didn’t come off as killers. And from what he could find, Jace was squeaky clean. He ran a legit business dealing with children, and he seemed to take it seriously. Jace’s bank accounts were loaded, his pockets past full grown, and his savings was huge. He didn’t spend his money. Nothing in his background pinned this to him.
Besides, Mitch’s gut told him this was some sort of hate crime. “I see that brain of yours ticking. I’ll write this up using the name John Doe. Let me know if you need anything else,” Tommy said as he reached down, loading his toolbox.
“They have a second vehicle at their house. You might check it out when you have time,” Mitch commented absently.
“Sure thing. Address on the report?” Tommy asked, standing and lugging his toolbox up with him.
“Yeah, thanks, Tommy,” Mitch said.
“No problem, man.” Tommy took off, but Mitch stayed right there, staring down at the mangled car. From this side, you couldn’t even tell what kind of car Colt had driven. How did he survive this accident? At the very least, how had there been no severe brain damage? The roof crushed in around him. Mitch found his heart connected again. Damn, that never happened. Fuck! Two men finally found happiness and to have someone try to tear them apart so tragically. How much more would they have to endure? He guessed as much as it took. And they were dealt a shit load right here.
Pivoting on his heels, he walked to his truck, forcing the emotion out. He needed to help these guys. This wasn’t just about his father anymore, but damn his dad had a way of finding the neediest ones to attach himself to, he was such a freaking do-gooder. That caused Mitch to grin. It was actually what made his father such a great man to him.
Chapter 30
Exhaustion made everything that much more difficult. Jace rose from the hard plastic recliner and paced the small ICU room. He stretched his body, lifting his hands high in the air, feeling the tension cracking and popping before he bent over, reaching low. He let his head hang and closed his eyes. The stretch did wonders for his sore muscles. Jace lifted and rolled his shoulders, brushing his hair back off his face, retying the strands with the rubber band he’d swiped off the chart this morning. They were in day two, almost day three, of their hospital getaway, and Jace had barely left the room for more than a minute since he’d arrived. He could smell the days old stench on his body. He needed a shower and bad.