land, but a lot of other ships were caught in it, too, and barely made it out. The remains of the Discovery eventually turned up, but none of the crew’s bodies were ever found, although that’s not uncommon when someone is lost at sea. And now you’re telling me that—”
“The storm didn’t kill them.”
“So someone went out in that storm and—and murdered them?” Hannah asked, appalled. The loss of the crew had been a local tragedy. To think that they might have survived Mother Nature only to be murdered made the situation all the more terrible.
“There was a rumor that the treasure chest from the Santa Elinora was aboard the Discovery.”
“What?” Hannah demanded. “That treasure has been the subject of rumors for years! It was supposedly on the Wind and the Sea when she went down.”
“Supposedly,” Rodriguez said. “Key word—supposedly. Where it is now, no one knows. A historian wrote a piece on the Santa Elinora and the treasure about a year and a half ago, which started people speculating that it was still off Key West somewhere. Legend always had it that the chest was aboard Ian Chandler’s Wind and the Sea when she went down in the 1850s, but no one really knows if that’s true, and since the wreck was never found, no one’s been able to confirm that it was there.”
“So how did it end up on the Discovery?” Hannah asked, confused.
“There are thousands of undiscovered shipwrecks out there—the ocean along the coast was once like a marine I-95. And since no one could predict storms, over hundreds of years, thousands of ships went down. And those looking for them are often cutthroat and are perfectly happy to commit murder over even the hint of something valuable turning up. Honestly, I don’t believe the treasure chest was ever aboard the Discovery. What I do believe is that members of Los Lobos heard the rumors that it was there, and that they caught up with the Discovery right before the storm and killed the crew—for nothing. Since they didn’t find it, they’re searching in Key West again, because at this point no one really knows where the treasure is—on land or underwater. The items in the treasure chest are supposed to be so rare and historic that it’s impossible to estimate their value—jewels set in the purest gold ever mined in South America.”
“I’ve heard about the treasure my whole life,” Hannah said. “According to legend, the Santa Elinora was discovered and salvaged when David Porter and his Mosquito Squadron came down in the 1820s, back when Florida was still a territory, to clean out the pirates. But Porter didn’t keep any documents because officially they were supposed to be stopping pirates, not salvaging wrecks. But lack of proof didn’t stop people from claiming that Porter found the chest and kept it in Key West until he tried to send it up to D.C. on the Wind and the Sea. Most of the people on the island at the time believed that the treasure went down with the Wind and the Sea when she sank, and to this day most people think it’s still there.”
Jose nodded and smiled slowly. “You would know. Your home is part of the legend of the treasure, and that makes you involved. Are you a descendant of the original owners? Not many left these days who go that far back.”
“In a roundabout way. I’m a descendant of the original owner’s first cousin.”
“And you give ghost tours.”
Hannah lifted her hands helplessly.
He laughed. “Not to worry—it’s a legitimate business. And people like to be remembered. They like to have their stories told. I’d like my story to be told, one day.”
Hannah hesitated and then said, “I know that you were working undercover. My friend Detective Beckett was here, along with a Federal agent.”
“Dallas Samson,” Rodriguez said, nodding.
“They said you were a good guy.”
Jose knitted his fingers together and then released them, looking at her with a grim smile. “I’ve been with the FBI about five years. I made a point of getting this case. I’ve spent the past six months trying to get in with Los Lobos. I just made it in, but evidently I did something suspicious, or someone in the gang had seen me when I wasn’t undercover. Or someone betrayed me. I have some ideas. But this case meant more to me than just bringing down the gang.”
“Oh?”
“Los Lobos concentrates on ‘priceless’ treasures they can sell on the black market. But when their cash flow is down they deal in anything. Drugs. Human cargo.”
“Human cargo? Are you talking about slavery? Today?”
He nodded. “Trust me, it still goes on.” He shook his head. “One case—which at least had a happy ending—involved a young girl in Texas who was set up by a wealthy friend. A man in Eastern Europe offered a multimillion-dollar sum for a blue-eyed redhead under twenty-five. Los Lobos got wind of the offer and acted fast. The young woman went to a party at her friend’s mansion, where she was drugged. Luckily we already had a man watching the friend and she was rescued. As for her millionaire friend, he mysteriously killed himself in lockup while waiting to be taken in for arraignment.”
“You mean the millionaire was part of Los Lobos?”
“There are very rich people out there who covet things—and they know that Los Lobos can get whatever will make their collection complete.”
“How horrible.”
He nodded. “And we still don’t know who the leader is or the gang’s exact hierarchy. I’d hoped I would figure that out, but so far all I had discovered was that they only communicate with prepaid phones that they use once and toss. But,” he said, “I never reported the real truth of my involvement to my superiors. They won’t let you work a case when you have a personal interest in it.” He seemed to inhale deeply, as if unaware that ghostly lungs didn’t need oxygen. “My sister disappeared almost a year ago. I have reason to believe she fell into the hands of a Los Lobos general.”
“You mean she was kidnapped?” Hannah asked.
“Yes. And either she’s being held for the highest bidder or she’s already been murdered, or...”
“There’s another ‘or’?” Hannah asked.
He nodded. “I was likely killed because the leader, a man they call the Wolf, discovered that I was FBI. And it’s possible my sister...might have joined them—and that’s why I’m dead.”
* * *
Dallas and Liam met Mark, Yerby and the Atkinsons at a little coffee and ice cream shop on Duval. All four looked as if they’d had a long night. Judy and Pete Atkinson were in their late twenties, possibly early thirties. Pete was already balding, but he was slim and fit—even if he was looking haggard right now. Judy was tiny, maybe a full five feet in height, and a little round. Her eyes were a red-rimmed bright blue, making Dallas think of the American flag. Yerby Catalano was pretty, about twenty-two, with dark eyes and long dark hair, while Mark Riordan was probably a year or two older, tall and broad and muscled, as if he played sports. All four were more than willing to talk, they just didn’t seem sure what to say.
They sat huddled over triple lattes, as if that could drive away the memory of the previous night.
“Shelly and Stuart are already packing up to head home, you know,” Yerby told them. She shook her head. “Shelly was so freaked out.”
