The Forgotten

Lara didn’t have to speak—Cody was already gone.

* * *

The Florida Keys offered fabulous diving with excellent visibility. But here, the dolphins were in a lagoon. Much of the area off the docks was fairly deep—a good forty or fifty feet—and there were the same sea grasses and silt normally found around docks. The water was kept free of refuse, but the nature of the habitat kept it from being as clear as the local reef.

Brett wasn’t sure himself just why he felt so determined to find more of the person to whom the finger had once been attached. He knew he was frustrated and angry about Maria’s murder, and at least this was something active that he could do. He also knew they might not find anything; he might be on a wild goose chase.

He spent a good thirty minutes underwater with Diego. He used his underwater light as he swam by the foundations of the docks and every platform in every enclosure. The problem was, he might be looking for small body parts. Not easy. There were too many places that something that size might have ended up wedged.

The local cops, working in three teams of two, had worked even longer than he and Diego had.

Between them all, they’d found nothing. And he’d just about gone through his tank of air.

It made sense to come up—and give up. It was more than possible that the owner of the finger was still alive and well, except for a missing finger. More people than just the Barillo family plied the criminal trades in the area. Florida had almost one thousand two hundred miles of coastline, making it ideal for modern-day criminals, drug runners and smugglers, just as it had been a haven for pirates and blockade-runners in the past. For those bent on illegal enterprise, Florida offered nooks and crannies in abundance.

Brett loved his state; he’d always wanted to work just where he was working. He considered himself well qualified, since he’d been born in Gainesville—as had his parents. His dad’s parents had been born in St. Augustine and his mother’s in Jacksonville. All his life, he’d heard their fascinating tales about the past; to him, the state was unique and incredibly special—though of course it faced plenty of challenges, too. He’d attended the University of Miami and worked in the Keys on weekends, and during summers he’d been hired on the charter boats that were so prevalent around the state. He knew the mentality of the Deep South stretch of the panhandle, the theme-park wonderland of the center of the state and the varied mix—Caribbean, South and Central-American, now with a growing Eastern European component—of the southern half of the state and the Keys. He’d made a point of learning Spanish and Portuguese and the Haitian patois that was spoken in some areas of Miami. Few people, he thought, knew the state and its inhabitants better, with all the quirks and oddities to be found in such a diverse population.

And he’d learned to care about people the rest of the world judged simplistically, people like the Gomezes. While Miguel hadn’t shared the bone-deep goodness and tenderness of his wife, at his core he’d been a decent man caught between a rock and a hard place. He’d tried to make things right; he’d come to Brett and offered his help.

Brett surfaced and saw that the Miami-Dade teams were already up, and so was Diego, who had slipped out of his buoyancy control vest and was sitting on the dock speaking with Adrianna Laramie. She made a good match for Rick; they were both attractive in a real-world way and bronzed from their years in the sun. She’d been fully cooperative, talking to the dolphins and getting them to retrieve all kinds of anomalous objects. They had brought up bits of coral, a deflated beach ball, a pair of sunglasses and a watch. But no more body parts.

“Think we’re done here?” Diego called to him.

Brett was just about to agree when he saw the CEO of the place, Grady Miller, hurrying along the dock with a cell phone.

“It’s your supervisor. He wants to speak with you,” Grady told them.

Diego took the phone and listened gravely, then turned to Brett. “You’re going to want a new tank,” he said.

“Why?” Brett asked.

“They’ve got an ID on our body part. And you’re not going to believe it.”

“Miguel Gomez?” Brett asked incredulously.

“Yup. Miguel didn’t burn up in that fire. Whether he did or didn’t kill his wife, he really could have been in his own neighborhood, and now he, or at least part of him, was here.”

* * *

Lara spent the afternoon working on a series of press releases in tandem with a public information officer from the Miami-Dade police. She’d been going back and forth with the young officer on email for what seemed like forever when Rick suddenly appeared at her door.

“They want you,” he told her.

She carefully hit the send button before looking at Rick curiously.

“They want me? Sorry, who are they, and what do they want me for?”

“They want you in the water.”

“I’m not a trainer,” she said. “And ‘they’ as in the cops?”

“‘They’ as in the FBI guys,” Rick said. “More particularly, dark and brooding FBI guy.”

Lara thought about asking him which dark and brooding guy, except that she knew. It had to be Agent Cody.

“Why do they want me? I don’t know what I’m doing unless I’m with you or one of the other trainers.”

Rick made a face. “Well, you can thank Grady for this one. He says that Cocoa feels you’re her special friend. They think that if you’re in the water, she’ll get into the mood and help.”

Lara stood up awkwardly. She’d changed out of her suit and into dry clothing for work, but if they wanted her in the water, she would be happy to change again and get back in.

“Okay, give me five minutes. I’ve got to put my suit back on.”

Rick nodded. “I’ll wait and go down with you.”

“Thank you.”

Lara started to put on her suit and water shirt, but they were still damp, so it was a struggle to get back into them. She realized she must have taken longer than she realized when she heard footsteps and Rick called to her from outside the bathroom door and told her to hurry up. One final tug and she joined him.

“Cocoa did really take to you,” he said as they started walking. “Maybe you’re just both good-looking girls of the same age. I mean, in dolphin years, she’s in her mid-twenties, too,” Rick said.

“Maybe she’s blonde at heart, huh?” Lara asked.

Rick grinned and led the way back down to the water.

Agent Cody was still in the water, but his scuba equipment was on the dock, which meant—she assumed, since all she really saw was his bare chest—that he was wearing a pair of swim trunks and nothing else. He was muscled like steel, but she’d expected no less. His partner was standing on the dock in swim shorts, as were the police divers. Grady was there, too.

Cocoa wasn’t alone in the lagoon. Several of the “girls”—as the young females were called—were there with her.

As soon as Lara arrived on the dock, she heard Cocoa let out one of her little chattering sounds in greeting. Lara flushed; she did seem to have a bond with the animal.

“I’m not sure how I can help,” she told Grady. “If the pros have come up empty and the girls haven’t found anything for you or Rick...” She paused, aware that Diego was looking at her understandingly, while Cody was just staring at her with unreadable dark eyes.

“I had a German shepherd once, great dog,” Grady told her. “He was nice to other people, but he’d only play fetch with me. Only me, no one else—not even if the best dog trainer in the world was around. Dolphins are very bright animals, and Cocoa’s attached herself to you.” He pointed toward her where she was floating beside the dock, eyes intently focused on Lara. “Hop on into the water, greet her, give her back a stroke, then ask her to fetch for you.”

Lara sat on the dock and slid into the water. She felt the dark eyes of Agent Cody on her all the while. Once in the water, she talked to Cocoa. The dolphin swam by Lara, allowing her to stroke her long, sleek back. Then she raced out to the center of the lagoon and did a fantastic leap before coming straight back to Lara.

“Do I need some fish?” Lara asked, looking up at Grady.

He shrugged. Rick, standing on the dock, reached into one of the coolers and pulled out a fish.

Lara swam over to him, reached for the fish and turned. Cocoa was already there, her mouth open in anticipation. Lara tossed the fish to her.

“Try now,” Agent Cody told Lara.

She nodded, stroking the dolphin.

“Cocoa, fetch, please,” Lara said, treading water and giving the dolphin the hand signal.