Page 25 of On the Line

I swayed under the weight of the money, my body feeling battered and heavy.

Ellie led me down to the shore in the darkness, uncovering a tandem kayak stored under some tarps. Together we launched it without a word.

I tossed the duffel in the back and held it steady while she climbed in the front. Once I was in, she handed me a paddle. I was the muscle, following her lead.

We paddled in silence until maybe half an hour later she pointed her paddle into a dark mangrove tunnel. “Here.” The sun was just peeking over the horizon, illuminating the shallows and green of the canopy.

“Here?” It looked like every other mangrove island we had passed.

“Yes!” She dipped the paddle in, pulling the water toward herself, and slid the kayak beneath the arching branches. As we reached the end of the tunnel and it opened up into a hidden little bay, Ellie had a look of wonder as she said, “It’s my secret spot, where I used to always come when I needed to work things out,” her excitement bubbling.

An above-the-water root was sticking out like a bent knee. Ellie reached out and grabbed a hold. Hopping out onto the mesh network of interlocking roots that created an ‘island’ absent any ground, she navigated the mangroves easily. I watched, admiring her dexterity and ease as she hitched the kayak to a tree. I followed, awkwardly lugging the bag of cash, as she hopped from one branch to the next, deeper into the mangroves, towards what I could just make out as some type of make-shift structure.

She climbed up onto the weathered plywood floor supported by the thicker branches emerging from the roots at the center of the island. Erected a few feet above the water, running between the latticework of roots beneath our feet, the treehouse sported a simple tin roof over wooden plank walls. The windows were rough openings, as was the door-sized hole in the wall.

“The money should be safe here.”

Once we were both inside, I dropped the bag with a surge of relief and took her in my arms. She didn’t resist as my lips sealed onto hers. With more gratitude than I ever thought I could feel, I exhaled the words, “Thank you.”

I hugged her close, stroking her hair, taking in her scent. A mix of summer and sunshine. “How did you find this place? Whose is it?”

She drew in a deep breath through her nose, and pulled back to face me. “Mine. I mean, well, the island belongs to the state, I guess. It’s parkland. But my uncle built this structure. He brought me here when I was a little girl, and told me not to tell anyone else about it. After he moved to Houston, it was my secret alone. So no one knows about it but me. The money will be safe here until you can get it back to George.”

I hoped she was right. I didn’t need some stranger chancing upon George’s money. “George has good lawyers. Hopefully he’ll be out in a couple of days.”

“True, but let's say the charges stick and he's in for serious time. What then? Are you just going to let it sit here?”

I hadn’t thought about it, any of it. “Not a good long term plan I suppose, but I hope I don’t need one.”

“Well if you’re stuck with it, you’ll either need to find a safer hiding spot, or you’ll need to clean it.”

My face scrunched. “Clean it?”

“Deposit it like it’s legitimate income. You know, money laundering.”

I didn’t know. I’d heard of money laundering, but had no idea how it worked. “How do you launder money, exactly?”

“You deposit a little at a time and call it tips or charter pay. It will take a while to clean it, but if you do it that way no one will look twice.”

“A charter in my Whaler pays $100 a day—that’ll take forever!”

“It will, but you have to keep it explainable. If the IRS comes after you, they could take everything, and you could end up in jail with George.”

She pulled me down next to her in the doorway, and we sat, our feet hanging over the edge. I could see the wheels turning. “You’d need to open an account just for this.”

“Why?” I asked, confused. Had she learned all this in her first year of business school?

“We can trickle it into some investments, but you want to keep it separate from yours.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that.” It sounded complicated, and I was eager to wash my hands of the whole situation. Overwhelmed, we stared out at the water, mesmerized by little fish darting between the roots of the trees. Mangrove islands acted like nurseries for sea life, their roots providing a safe place for small fish, crabs, eels, and birds to hide from predators while they grew. Here we were hiding the prize from the predators.

“What do you want to do with the money you’ve been saving?” Ellie finally asked, tugging my hand into her lap, and rubbing her thumb over the back of it.

“I want to buy a bigger boat, to run real charters.” That was the only thing I was sure about, aside from loving Ellie.

She looked pleased with my response. “That will help clean the money faster if it comes down to that. With a bigger boat you can charge a lot more. You can put fake charters on the books, and deposit that money, clean. You’ll have to pay taxes on it, of course, but that’s what makes dirty money clean.”

I stared at her, in awe of her intelligence, and of her calm in this intense situation. She was cool as a cucumber. “Okay. I guess I need to find a boat then.” Even if George was able to buy his way out of this like I hoped, the boat was always my dream.

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