Page 6 of Wild Tempest

Paris grinned. She had the makings of the story. "What do you think happened to the documentary crew?”

"Like I said, I can't discuss ongoing investigations.”

She scowled at me. "This is off the record.”

I shrugged. "If I said anything, it would just be a guess. And your guess is as good as mine.”

She frowned at me.

We wrapped up at the scene and headed back to Coconut Key. At the station, JD and I filled out reports, made a copy of the SD card that I found in the tent, then logged it into evidence.

We left the station and headed back to the Avventura.

Buddy waited for us at the salon door with a wagging tail and a slobbering tongue. I pulled open the salon door, knelt down, and petted the little guy. He begged me to grab his leash and take him out for a walk. So I did. He stretched his legs, and when I got back to the boat, Jack poured a couple of drinks.

We went up to the sky deck, and I brought my laptop. I plugged in the SD card and imported the footage. After it had transferred, I dropped it all into a timeline in my editing software. We sat back and watched the clips. It was an uncut documentary, and we were the first to see it. A sneak peek at a film that would never see the light of day.

With all the chaos, we’d missed out on dinner. I didn't expect our excursion to Whistler to last as long as it did. I called Teagan at Diver Down and placed a to-go order.

"What's going on out at Whistler Cay?” she asked.

"Did you see Paris’s report on the news?" I asked.

"No. I just got this strange vibe."

Teagan’s supposed psychic powers came and went. Hot and cold. I guess she was hot right now. I’d take all the insight I could get. "How much can you tell me about this vibe?”

4

Iscarfed down a mushroom cheeseburger on the sky deck with Jack, watching the footage. It started with clips of Peyton on camera, talking about the adventure ahead. With sparkling ice blue eyes, wavy brunette hair, and a petite figure, she captivated the frame. With her as the host, she could make a documentary about grass growing, and people would watch.

“Long rumored, we will uncover the truth,” Peyton said. “Is the Witch of Whistler Cay real? Or just an urban legend. Stay tuned!”

There were a few takes of the introduction. Then the footage picked up with the trip to the island. The center console raced across the swells, spraying mists of salt water. The outboards howled.

“What happened to their boat?” JD asked.

We’d searched the entire island and hadn’t found it.

JD and I continued to watch the footage. The documentary crew arrived at Whistler Cay and dropped anchor in the shallows of the bay. Garrett grabbed footage of Marcus unloading the gear.

There was a tripod shot of the three of them lugging the gear up the beach to the tree line. They were clearly staging some scenes for the camera.

The trio set up camp where we found the tent and started a fire.

In the evening, they ate dinner and sat around a flickering campfire.

The camera they used performed well in low light.

They took turns filming each other eating dinner, chatting around the flames, and telling stories. Garrett was a handsome man with shaggy dark hair, blue eyes, and a square jaw lined with a day's worth of stubble. He had a fit, but not overly muscular, figure. By contrast, Marcus was a big guy. 6’4”, carved from stone. His short dark hair, dark eyes, and low brow made him look menacing. He had a trimmed beard. A guy like that would come in handy on a film set. He'd have no problem lugging around heavy gear and providing security when needed.

"Do you hear that?" Peyton asked.

The trio grew silent for a moment and listened intently. Crickets chirped, and the sound of the night filled the air. The faint rumble of beating drums and chanting voices echoed in the distance.

The three of them left the campsite to investigate. The shaky camera moved across the meadow, lit only by the moonlight. They moved through the dense underbrush to another clearing with a raging bonfire. Amber flames crackled high into the night sky.

A group of naked women danced around the flames, chanting an invocation.