Chapter 9 - The Battle in the RiverThe black water engulfed Daniel instantly.
The current was terrifyingly swift, pulling both men beneath the surface toward the heavy steel propellers of the commercial fishing boats.
Daniel kicked his feet violently, fighting his heavy tactical vest, clawing his way back toward the air.
He broke the surface, gasping for breath, rain stinging his eyes.
Ten feet away, Travis Cole surfaced, still holding his tactical pistol. He wiped the water from his eyes, locked his gaze onto Daniel, and raised the weapon.
CLICK.
The water-logged action jammed.
Travis cursed, throwing the useless firearm at Daniel’s head. He pulled a eight-inch serrated hunting knife from his belt and lunged through the churning water like a predator.
“I’m going to cut you open, cop!” Travis roared, swinging the blade in a wide, vicious arc.
Daniel ducked his head beneath the water, letting the blade slice harmlessly through the shoulder fabric of his patrol shirt. He reached up, grabbing Travis’s wrist with both hands, twisting the joint backward with all the strength left in his body.
The knife slipped from Travis’s fingers, sinking into the dark mud below.
Daniel wrapped his forearm around Travis’s throat, driving his legs against the river current, pinning Travis against the slimy wooden pylon of the dock.
“It’s over, Cole!” Daniel growled into his ear.
Travis thrashed wildly, trying to gouge Daniel’s eyes, but Daniel maintained the chokehold, pressing his weight firmly until Travis’s thrashing began to slow.
Above them, on the dock, sirens began to scream through the night.
Not local police sirens.
Four black federal SUVs slammed onto the gravel road of the marina, their high-intensity searchlights flooding the pier with brilliant, white light.
Dozens of armed tactical agents from the FBI Human Trafficking Task Force spilled out, rifles raised, securing the dock in seconds.
“FBI! Nobody move!” a voice thundered through a megaphone.
Special Agent Marcus Vance ran down the dock, his weapon raised, spotting Judge Arthur Cole clutching a bleeding shoulder near the edge of the pier. Vance kicked the judge’s spare firearm away and forced him to his knees, snapping steel federal cuffs onto his wrists.
Two federal agents leaned over the edge of the dock, extending an iron rescue ladder down to the water.
“Deputy Reyes!” Agent Vance yelled down. “Bring him up!”
Daniel dragged a gasping, half-conscious Travis Cole to the ladder, pushing him up into the waiting arms of the federal agents.
As Daniel pulled himself onto the dry wooden planks of the dock, he collapsed onto his back, staring up at the pouring rain, his chest heaving as he fought for air.
Agent Vance knelt beside him, tossing a warm wool blanket over Daniel’s shoulders.
“Good work, Deputy,” Vance said, offering a hand to pull Daniel up. “We just raided the probate court office in Duval County. We secured all the forged trust records, the offshore bank accounts, and the real death certificates. It’s over.”
Daniel stood up, wrapping the blanket around himself, and looked toward the white hospital van.
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Nurse Claire was holding Eli, while Sarah stood at the open door, watching Daniel with tears pouring down her face.
The dark nightmare of the cabin in the pines had finally been shattered.
