True Faith (Tru North Adventures Book 1) Read online

  True Faith

  Tru North Adventure Series Book 1

  Mark Stone

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Untitled

  1

  19 Hours Before Missing

  They didn’t like it when I stood on top of the buoy. The Southernmost Point Buoy was a huge deal in Key West. You might not have heard of it if you lived in, say, Colorado or Utah. Hell, it might have even escaped your attention from further up north in the great state of Florida, but people come from miles around to stare at it. And when I’m standing on top of it, they’re also staring at me.

  Now, you might think I’m the kind of guy who likes to be the center of attention, and the truth is, that you probably wouldn’t be incorrect in presuming this. I always had been, and probably always would be, the sort of man who didn’t shy away from a crowd. As a rule, I liked people. I liked getting to know them, and while standing atop the Southernmost Point Buoy wasn’t the best way to become intimately familiar with each member of the thirty or forty member crowd that stood below me right now, that really wasn’t my goal right now.

  The attention I wanted today wasn’t for myself, at least, not entirely. “Two for one hurricanes at The Busted Compass for the next ninety minutes,” I yelled, cupping my hands over my mouth. “The first fifteen people through the door get three for one, and my bartender is really bad at his job.He doesn’t know when to stop pouring the rum.” I nodded, smiling at the crowd. “I’m gonna have to fire him eventually, but ‘eventually’ isn’t today. So, have fun!”

  A murmur started through the crowd about halfway through my sentence. To the surprise of absolutely no one, rum was a popular thing in Key West. Getting three rum heavy drinks for the price of one was an even more popular thing.

  I grinned as the crowd started to turn and head toward my bar in droves, feeling particularly proud of myself. We were three minutes away from happy hour, and I loved the idea of opening the doors to a rush of customers. Still smiling, I looked up at my bar, at the giant mechanical sign shaped like a broken compass. The arm of the thing spun around and around, really giving credence to the ‘busted’ piece of The Busted Compass’s name. I couldn’t believe the place was less than a year old and already turning a profit. To say I was on top of the world was an understatement, and from where I stood, it seemed like no one was going to bring me down.

  “Truman North, get your ass down from there!” A voice that was more familiar than either of us would have liked sounded at me. I didn’t need to look down to know who it was. This was a game he and I played on an almost daily basis.

  With the grin still plastered across my lips, I looked down at Officer Ryan Partley. He had his police hat on and a nightstick in his hand, though we both knew he wasn’t going to use it.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked the only person coming toward me in a sea of people rushing off for drink bargains.

  “Same reason as yesterday and the day before,” Ryan said. “Get your ass off the buoy, Tru. You know they don’t like it.”

  I shook my head. Ryan and I had different kinds of days. Some days, I did what he asked, hopping down off the buoy and going on about my business. Other days, I liked to make the man earn his paycheck. I decided as I looked down at him that today was going to be one of the latter days.

  ‘And who is the ‘they’ you’re talking about?” I asked. “Would you mean the city council or some other kinds of ‘high ups’ in Key West? Because it seems to me that those are the very same people who would stand profit from small businesses doing well around here, especially in what’s considered an off season.”

  Ryan sighed loudly, his shoulders slumping with the exhale. “Come on, Tru. Don’t make me tase you.”

  I laughed a little bit despite myself. He wasn’t going to tase me. I knew it. He knew it. He knew I knew it. Still, he was a beat cop. He was supposed to keep the peace, and even though standing on top of the buoy and offering delicious drinks and huge savings wasn’t exactly a murder spree, it wasn’t considered peaceful either.

  I’d had my fun, and got my point across. My bar was crawling with enough customers to make sure today was more than profitable. So, I shrugged at the man and climbed down.

  “You know Key West doesn’t have an off season anymore,” Ryan said, as though that was the part of my sentence that he should have been listening to. “We get ten times more snowbirds after Christmas than we did when I was growing up. It’s like no one wants to stay home anymore.”

  “Can you blame them? This place is perfect,” I said, settling next to the man. With his shaggy blond hair and square jaw, Ryan looked like the quintessential surfer boy you might expect to find lounging around the beach, and I had no doubt he had been one of them at some point. Unlike myself, Ryan grew up here. This was his home turf. Not unlike myself, he loved this place so much that it practically shone out his pores.

  “Nope. Don’t blame them one bit,” Ryan said. “It would just be nice if I could get into one of my favorite restaurants at least a couple of nights a year.” He shook his head. “Everyone’s reading blogs and listening to travel podcasts now. All the stuff that used to be secrets for locals is plastered all over the internet. I couldn’t even get into B.O. 's Fish Wagon last night, and you know there was a time when we were afraid that was going to have to close down.”

  “Information belongs to everybody, Ryan. Besides, that’s a good thing. This place runs on tourist dollars. More tourists equals more dollars. It’s not the most complicated equation.” I slapped him on the shoulder. “Now, come on. Let me buy you a Cuban.”

  “I already ate,” Ryan said, shaking his head.

  “You liar,” I balked.

  “I’m not lying,” Ryan replied. Another lie.

  “You’re curling your words,” I replied. “At the end, you’re curling the letters and giving them a little kick. You only do that when you’re-”

  “Upset that some idiot stood on top of one of our landmarks again?” He asked.

  “Hungry,” I finished.

  “Maybe I didn’t eat enough then,” Ryan said.

  “Today is Tuesday, you jackass. Marvin’s has a five dollar Cuban special on Tuesdays, which is why I suggested it.” I sneered. “You’ve lived here for thirty years. I bet you haven’t passed up that deal twice in all that time. Besides, you’re messy.”

  “I’m not messy!” Ryan threw his hands.

  “Your belt is too loose, your shirt is only tucked in on one side, you missed several spots on your neck while shaving, and your hair looks like it hasn’t seen a comb in at least a week. I’m not trying to mock you. I’m just starting a fact, and that fact is that you’re messy,” I said, my finger moving in the direction of what I pointed out.

  Ryan narrowed his eyes at me, but didn’t refute anything. “What does that have to do with whether or not I’ve eaten?”

  “There’s no mustard on you,” I said simply. “Marvin’s loads those Cubans up with mustard. I see it on your tie almost every Tuesday.” I shook my head. “You being pissed, plus today being Tuesday, plus no mustard equals you haven’t eaten. You don’t have to let me feed you, but don’t insult my intelligence.”

  “That’s not intelligence. That’s a damn circus act. It’s a gift,” Ryan said.

  Ever since I’d known him, Ryan had always been sort of in awe of the way my brain worked, and he wasn’t the only one. The general consensus seemed to be that I could read people better than the average person. There were people who, like Ryan, thought it was a gift. Then there were people who thought it was quasi psychic or something. It wasn’t either, really. In truth, I didn’t feel like it was much of anything. People aren’t usually too complicated. They tell you everything about themselves. Sure, they might not do it with words, but over half of communication is nonverbal. So, all you have to do is know how to listen.

  For example, Ryan didn’t want me to buy him a sandwich even though he was hungry and he loves those Cubans. That could only mean he was busy, and since he didn’t just tell me that, it meant he was busy with something he didn’t want me to know about. I stifled a grin as the thoughts moved through my head quickly, looking him over.

  This is where things often got interesting. Knowing the big, vague stuff was never too difficult. A guy driving seventy in a fifty crying in the front seat is upset. That much is obvious. You have to dig a little deeper to get to the specifics. You have to know someone, or at least know enough about someone.

  Again, taking Ryan for example, I knew the beat cop wanted one thing more than anyt
hing else. I knew he had been working toward it for years, and I knew that he had stopped talking about working toward it recently.

  “You’re taking the detective’s exam today?” I asked, smiling at him.

  “No!” Ryan said loudly, shaking his head and walking away from me.

  “You are! You’re taking it this evening, and you want to spend your lunch hour brushing up on stuff.” I followed him.

  “God, I hate you,” he said, pulling to a stop. “Look, I haven’t told anybody that. Not even my girlfriend knows.”

  “Because you’re afraid you’re going to flunk it?” I asked.

  He sighed again. “Why do I talk to you? Why don’t I just walk away?”

  “Because I fascinate you on a base level, and you’re hoping that some of my intuition will rub off on you,” I answered honestly. “And hey, maybe it has. I could help you study, you know.”

  “No.” He shook his head hard. “I mean, thank you, but no. I need to do this on my own. I want to earn this.”

  “You will,” I said, giving him another slap on the shoulder. “And when you do, you get free drinks all night at the bar.” I pointed. “But only after you let me congratulate you from the top of the buoy.”

  Ryan laughed a little before he stopped himself. “You’re a jackass.”

  “I’m ex-Coast Guard. Making fun of you is the way we show you we care. But hell, maybe you’re right. Maybe I am a jackass, but I’m also rooting for you,” I said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got about a hundred drinks to pour.”

  As I walked toward the bar, I saw a long limousine pull up. Out of it, a leggy dark haired stunner wearing a green sundress and holding a matching purse stepped out. Two large men stepped out behind her, flagging her as she walked into the bar.

  One look at her was enough to know she was important; some kind of a big deal. I didn’t pay her much attention beyond that, though. Looking back, I wished I would have. Maybe, if I did, I could have stopped all of it before it happened. Maybe, if I’d have paid her more attention then, things wouldn’t have gone so horribly wrong.

  2

  Twelve Hours Before Missing

  The music was loud enough in the front of the bar that it was getting hard to hear myself think. It seemed the ‘3 for 1’ special I touted while standing on the buoy earlier worked a little too well. The Busted Compass had been at capacity ever since. In fact, in the last few hours, we started having to turn people away. A line formed at the door which was a new experience for us, and while I was more than happy at the idea of getting money from every one of the people waiting, I had no interest in breaking fire code. I had seen the fire commissioner at a restaurant once, and he carried himself like the kind of guy who took his job way too seriously.

  “One of us is gonna have to head back to the house if this doesn’t slow down,” Hawaii Jack said with a box of tequila bottles in his hand. “We’re running out of supplies up here.”

  I shook my head at him. It would take a guy with the kind of muscles my brother had to hold a box that heavy without letting the strain show on his face. The guy was a monster, and if the fact that he was a six foot four Hawaiian man with the kind of build that are normally reserved for Grecian sculptures and linebackers wasn’t enough to make it obvious that he wasn’t this shortish white guy’s actual brother, the fact that we had different last names almost certainly was.

  Stuff like that didn’t matter for us, though. When you grow up bouncing around the foster care system, you realize that family is who you decide they are. I decided a long time ago that this hulking football player sized pacific Islander was my brother. So, he was. He decided I was his brother, and so I was. That was all there was to it, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “You want me to do it, don’t you?” I asked, shaking my head and already knowing the answer.

  “Did you get that from ‘reading’ me?” Hawaii Jack asked, still not showing even a bit of struggle with that box.

  “Please. I ‘read’ you when I was nine. Finished the entire book in an hour. There wasn’t much to it,” I said, mock sneering at my brother. “Also, don’t call it ‘reading’. It makes me sound weird.”

  “You are weird,” he shot back.

  “Maybe, but do we want half of Key West finding out?” I pointed to the set of swinging doors that led from the backroom, where we now stood, out into the main floor of the bar. “I’m betting you’re liking those crowds.”

  “I like that we’re busy, and I like the tips,” he said. “Which is why I want to stay here. Only one of us knows how to make a drink that isn’t a Hurricane or a Sex on the Beach.”

  “That’s not true. I can also make a gin and tonic, assuming you can show me where we keep the tonic,” I said.

  “Go get the tequila,” Hawaii Jack said.

  “I can also make a vodka tonic.” I shrugged. “I’m guessing it follows pretty much the same principle.” I pointed at him. “Besides, you’re the one with tree trunks for arms. Don’t you think you should be the one carrying heavy ass boxes around?”

  “I love how you pretend not to be strong, even though you’ve bested me in arm wrestling literally every time we’ve played.”

  “That’s because you don’t know how to use your weight to your advantage,” I scoffed.

  “I’ll make you a deal. You tell me even one even one ingredient to a Long Island Iced Tea, and I’ll get the boxes all night. No questions asked.”

  I looked at my brother for a long moment. I leaned in closer as a smile spread across my face. “Ice.”

  “That doesn’t count,” he said.

  “It does count. You know it counts,” I said. “Have fun with the boxes, Big Guy. I’ll be out here making all the Long Island Iced Teas this place can handle, and I’ll be doing it with…amaretto?”

  “I’m not telling you,” Hawaii Jack said, shaking his head.

  “You bastard.” I slumped. “Fine. I’ll get the damn boxes, even though you should be thanking me for that line outside. If it wasn’t for my remarkable salesmanship, we’d be-”

  “You really are vain, aren’t you?” Hawaii Jack laughed. “You really think you’re responsible for the crowd tonight?”

  “I mean, obviously,” I said, though I could tell from his stance and the grin on his face that I was missing something Jack thought was insanely obvious. “Who else?”

  “Faith Robinson, you idiot,” my brother said, chuckling hard at me. “She’s been in here all night. Haven’t you noticed?”

  “There have been a lot of people in here all night, and I’m not sure why that name should mean anything to me,” I admitted, leaning against the wall of the backroom and crossing my arms over my chest.

  “She’s one of the Real Housewives of Sioux City,” Jack said.

  “Sioux City has a Real Housewives?” I balked. “God, they must be really desperate for new settings.”

  “Yeah. She’s the catty one who left her husband after he got arrested for money laundering and was caught sleeping with Veronica.”

  I pointed at my brother. “I know you want me to ask you who Veronica is, but I’m not gonna do it. I’m also not going to point out the absurdity of someone with the muscle mass of the Incredible Hulk talking to me about the specifics of his favorite soapy reality show, but I think we can both agree that it’s pretty out there.”

  “I never said it was my favorite,” Hawaii Jack muttered.

  “I’m gonna go get the boxes before you completely shake my grasp on reality. You go make drinks with your mystery ingredients and take care of reality show stars.” I grinned. “Life’s weird, isn’t it? I met you on the floor of an overcrowded orphanage when I was nine years old. You drove me to the pier after I enlisted in the Coast Guard, and you picked me up the day I retired. Now, look at us; living the life in Key West. We’re business owners, raking in cash and making drinks for people whose husbands slept with Veronica. I don’t like to use the phrase ‘we’ve made it’ very often, but I think it might apply here.”