Page 80 of The Fallen Hero
Her mouth dry, Mena instinctively looked away. She’d said too much.
Des said, “Let’s go.”
Pushing past her, Des and Richland headed toward the hallway that led to the master bedroom.
Mena rushed behind them. “Wait a minute. Do you even have a search warrant to be here?”
“Spoken like a woman harboring a fugitive,” Des said, then lifted a leg and kicked the bedroom door open.
The two detectives entered, guns raised. The room was empty. Window closed.
Mena stood in the doorway, sneaking a glance at the closed door to the bathroom. Des and Richland headed to opposite sides and searched the room. Drawers opened and closed. Pillows sailed across the room. Closets opened. Bed tilted on two legs to peer underneath. Her luggage unzipped and contents strewn across the floor.
Des lifted a prescription pill bottle and shook it toward her. “Antibiotics?”
“I wasn’t feeling well—”
“You might want to stop talking before you incriminate yourself further,” Richland warned, then lifted two empty cups from the bedside table.
“I’m guessing you like to bring two plates of food with two forks and two cups when you eat. Who knew a woman your size ate so much,” Des said, as he held open a plastic bag for Richland to place the dishes inside.
It was just a matter of time before they found Julian hiding in the bathroom. She wouldn’t let him go through this alone. If they were going to be busted, it would be together.
The police radio clipped to Richland’s belt beeped. Slipping a hand over it, he said, “What did you find?”
A voice responded from the other end. “Nothing. House is clean. So are the grounds. No sign of Montgomery anywhere.”
Richland pointed at the bathroom door.
Mena slumped against the door frame. It was about to be over for Julian. And for her.
Des raised his gun and reached for the doorknob. Twisting it slowly, he opened the door and stepped inside. Richland scrutinized her from the middle of the room as he snapped the plastic gloves from his hands.
Des stepped back into the room. A disgusted look creased his face. “It’s empty.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Pulling the baseball cap down lower on his face, Julian climbed out of the underground tunnel and scanned the area. He recognized this part of the Valley of Waterfalls, near a secluded fishing town rarely visited by tourists. As Mena held off the cops, Julian had needed a miracle to escape the room before he was found. Hiding out in the vacation home of a member of the island cartel had more perks than he’d bargained for. Darting across the massive walk-in closet of the master bedroom, Julian had thought of hiding behind the air duct, which was covered with a wide three by three-foot metal plate. The location of the duct was perfect, partially obscured by a line of clothes near the front of the closet and more likely to be overlooked than if it was on the back wall.
Grabbing a butter knife from the dinner he’d inhaled only hours earlier, he’d loosened the screws and removed the plate only to find he wasn’t staring into an air duct after all.
A tunnel was carved out of the dirt, the bottom lined with wooden boards. The area wasn’t big enough to stand, but he could crawl comfortably within the space. The question was, where the hell did it lead to? Julian didn’t take time to ponder the answer to that question as he scrambled inside. From the tunnel side, he could easily secure the metal plate back in place, making it nearly impossible for anyone to detect that it had been opened.
Moving quickly in the pitch black, cramped space, Julian covered what felt like miles until he hit a dead end. Reaching a hand against the dirt packed walls, his fingers detected wooden slats rising up one side in a makeshift ladder. Hoisting himself up, he blindly reached the top and pressed on a flat surface which gave way without much effort.
Julian glanced down at his dirt stained clothes. He’d swiped a hat before entering the tunnel, hoping the crude excuse for a disguise would buy him time until he figured out his next move. He hoped Mena was okay back at the house with the police. The last thing he wanted was to crawl his way to freedom while she stayed behind and was arrested for helping him escape.
A part of him wanted to go back through the tunnel and check on her, but that was the worst thing he could do. Most likely he’d get caught, and Mena would be furious at him for not trusting her. Slipping his hand in the jeans, he pulled out the algae covered burner phone. At least he still had a way to call her, but he couldn’t do it too soon. The cops were likely watching her every move now and would be suspicious of any calls she received.
Slipping out of the jungle, Julian hustled across the small beach. His canvas tennis shoes sank in the soft damp sand as he approached one of the fishing boats. Several men busied themselves, untangling nets and preparing for the night fishing that brought in fresh seafood for the markets in the morning.
“Hey,” Julian said, approaching a man in the boat closest to the jungle. “I got lost hiking and missed the last ferry. I need to get over to Tango Lowlands. Are you headed toward St. Felipe?”
“No, but Rollie is. Two boats over. He fishes close to St. Felipe and could drop you off,” the man said without bothering to even look at him. One less person who could recognize him.
Julian stepped away and headed past another boat, stopping at the one where Rollie was working feverishly to spread his net across the interior of the tiny boat.
“Rollie?”
