The Lost Island

“Gorgeous!” Tracy gushed when they reached the southernmost point of the island. “It’s absolutely perfect.” It was exactly the view she was hoping for. The narrow strip of beach that circled the island usually linked the island to a tropical knoll that jutted out into the ocean. However due to a flood tide and the previous night’s heavy storm the connecting strip of beach was now a shallow channel. Waves crested before they rolled across the channel and returned to the ocean transforming the peninsula into a tiny, picturesque island. The heavy brush growing on both sides of the channel was dotted with gray sandstone rocks that contrasted beautifully with the lush green undergrowth. Beyond the island tufts of fluffy white clouds drifted across a bright azure sky that faded to a pale blue as it reached down and touched the teal blue water of the ocean. “I only wish the damn breeze was as fresh and sweet as the view,” she added. “Every time the wind comes up it smells like low tide at a fish processing plant.” Nick was staring across the channel at the tiny island. “Except it’s high tide,” he mumbled. “And I’m pretty sure what we’re smelling isn’t dead fish.” She glanced up at him, surprised by his intense expression. But before she could ask what was wrong, Dan rolled up in his golf cart. He pulled up behind Tracy and unloaded a pair of folding chairs before he walked over and gave her a quick hug. “What’s up, Boss?” “It’s about time you showed up. Do you smell what I smell?” Nick asked, slipping off his sandals. Dan paused a moment, staring at the island, and he nodded. “Yeah, now that you mention it. Hard to miss.” He handed Tracy the notebook he was carrying, instructing her to put it in her sketch case and keep it out of sight. Then he kicked off his shoes and rolled up the legs of his uniform. “Stay here, Tracy. Pack up your things,” Nick ordered. “I don’t think you’ll be doing any sketching here today.“ For once she didn’t argue. The expression on his face told her more than she really wanted to know. Tracy watched them as they paddled across the channel and disappeared on the far side of the knoll. She packed her things, carefully secreting the notebook in the pages of her sketch pad. Then she opened one of the folding chairs and sat down. Trying to ignore the noxious odor she stared at the island while she waited for them to return. The time dragged by endlessly until, finally, they reappeared, grim faced. A nauseating odor clinging to their clothing. “Nick. What’s wrong?” “I hate to ask his, Honey, but I want you to look at this picture. It’s important.” He took the cell phone Dan was holding and handed it to her. It was the image of a man, medium height and a bit on the stocky side with graying brown hair. He would have been fair complexed and handsome but for a horrible discoloration and a mask of horror that was etched on his face. His body was bloated, still it appeared crumpled giving him the appearance of a broken rag doll. He was clad in a short sleeved white shirt and khaki chino pants. Barefoot, his hands were secured behind his back with zip ties. Tracy stared at the image and her face paled. She tied to ignore the churning in her stomach that threatened to erupt at any moment. She turned away from the image, her hands shaking as she handed the phone back to Nick. She crossed her arms tightly across her waist, willing her breakfast to stay where it was. Nick put a supportive arm around her. “I’m sorry, Honey. Floaters are always the worst.” She nodded. Her voice was shaky when she said, “How horrible! I never got a good look at his face the other day but his build and the clothes are right. I’m sure he’s the man I saw being forced onto the plane.” Nick led her to the golf cart and, lifting her onto the rear seat, he sat down beside her. He held her close, trying to comfort her as her tears rolled down her cheeks. Dan followed them and leaned against the cart. “From the condition of the body, I’d guess the plane was flying low when they dumped him. Probably either on approach to or take off from the resort’s airstrip,” he mumbled. “If they were going to dump him you’d think they would have enough sense to do it farther out to sea to make sure he didn’t wash up on the island.” Nick glanced at Tracy before he said quietly, “From the expression on his face I’m sure he was conscious and he knew what was about to happen. My guess is that they brought him here first. Apparently they needed a nice quiet, private place where they could have a serious discussion. I seriously doubt all the damage on his feet was caused by fish. Plus I noticed a lot of bruising and physical damage that had to occur premortem.” “Yeah, makes sense, Boss. When they got what they wanted out of him, whatever that was, they eliminated him.”