Rebel Island (Tres Navarre #7)(49)

Garrett glared at me like I’d just suggested torching a Jimmy Buffett album, but he nodded grudgingly. “Two minutes.”

At the end of the hall, Lindy looked around to make sure we were alone. “That young man, Ty. I took him to the bathroom just now.”

“That’s terrific news.”

“You don’t understand. He asked me to take him to the bathroom in his own room to get some Tylenol. He orchestrated that so he could talk to me away from his friends.”

“And?”

Lindy’s eyes were as cold as steel. “He has something to tell you privately. He says it has to do with Chris Stowall’s murder.”

Ty sat at the bottom of the stairwell, watching the water lap against the steps. In the dim light of the hallway fixture, he looked like a wax figure, his face soft and sallow.

“Chase and Markie?” he asked nervously.

“Mr. Lindy is keeping them occupied.”

“This was a bad idea,” he said. “Forget it.”

“Ty, you got me down here. What did you want to tell me?”

He chewed at his thumb. “You should’ve let me leave last night. You don’t understand what they’re into. What they’re doing to me.”

The fear in his voice was beyond claustrophobia.

I thought about the way Markie had sapped Ty with a roll of quarters. No emotion in his face. Just cold efficiency. Few things would make a kid that age develop that kind of ruthless edge.

“Those drugs they sedated you with,” I said. “Where did they get them?”

Ty laughed weakly. “Starting to catch on, huh?”

“You’re trying to tell me Chase and Markie are dealers?”

“Dealers…Man, that sounds so small. For the UT campus, those two are the freaking Wal-Mart of drugs.”

“Chase and Markie can barely open a tequila bottle. Are you sure we’re talking about the same people?”

Ty spit into the water. “That’s what they want you to think. ‘Oh, they’re just stupid kids. It isn’t possible.’ Bullshit. Those two haven’t been kids since elementary school.”

The hall light flickered. I sat next to Ty. Together, we watched foam and dark water course down the hallway.

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “They’re your friends.”

“They’re my bosses. They got hooks in me like you wouldn’t believe. I agreed to do this one last trip to clear my debts. I didn’t agree to murder.”

“You think they killed Chris?”

“Chris was part of the system. That money you found? That came from Chase and Markie. They paid him off every time they came down.”

“But why would they kill him?”

Ty shook his head miserably. “This was supposed to be the last run, before the hotel shut down. Chris was pretty bummed about that. Maybe he leaned on Chase and Markie for more money.”

Again, I thought about Chris’s journal, the comments he’d made about escaping to Hawaii, his anger at Alex for closing the hotel. “So you’ve been smuggling in drugs from Mexico. What are we talking about? He**in? Marijuana?”

“Oh, man, that is old school. We brought in Mexican pharmaceuticals. Ritalin. OxyContin. Codeine. You name it. That’s what the people in the dorms want. Prescribe your own high.”

“You could get pharmaceuticals here.”

“In cheap bulk shipments? Easier to arrange that from Mexico. Warehouse security down there is a joke. Plus the cartels and federales don’t bother you. They’re all focused on the ‘illegal’ stuff.”

“How were the drugs brought in?”

“Fishing boat. See, that’s the thing. You said there was no way off the island until the ferry. Maybe that’s not exactly true. Chase and Markie have this plan—”

Steps in the hallway above. Chase called down, “Yo, Ty. You all right, man?”

Ty closed his eyes and swallowed. “Yeah. I feel like shit. But I’m…I’m better, I guess.”

Chase and Markie came down the steps. They checked us out, trying to read what was going on.

“He’s not making much sense,” I told them. “You gave him too much sedative.”

“He’ll be okay,” Chase said. “Come on, buddy.”

Ty gave me one last look, like a convict going back inside the pen. Then he let his buddies lead him up the stairwell.

I went back to our refugee room, wanting to talk to Maia, but she was still asleep. For once, she looked comfortable. I didn’t want to disturb her. Lane slept more fitfully. She was mumbling something that sounded like a protest. Garrett lay next to her, his arm around her waist.

He glanced up as I came in. We had a brief, silent conversation that went something like this:

Me: No sign of Alex.

Garrett: If I could get up without waking Lane, I’d beat you with a large stick. Search again!

I checked the next room and found Benjamin Lindy asleep on the couch. Chase and Markie sat on the bed having a quiet, earnest conversation with Ty. I decided to move on.

The next bedroom’s door was also open, but Jose and Imelda were nowhere to be seen.

What now?

There was too much to think about, too much trouble besides the storm blowing through this hotel.