Acting unaffected by Rick’s presence, Val left him with one of his staff and stepped onto the charter for a brief moment with Stephan.

With hands in his pockets to avoid wrapping his fingers around the captain’s neck to squeeze any information out of the man, Val forced a smile as he moved on deck. “Captain Léger,” Val called the man’s attention his way.

A smile followed a brief look of confusion. “Mr. Masini, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Acting as a confidant, and not an adversary, Val nodded away from the other staff. “A moment, Captain.”

Léger offered an instruction to one of his mates and joined Val at the bow of the craft. “How can I help you?”

Val kept a low voice. “Seems we have had yet another security breach.”

Concern passed the captain’s face. “What kind of breach?”

Val waved a hand in the air. “Nothing from your end, I don’t think. I want to keep it silent, but want you aware of my concern for stowaways.”

“Not on my end, I assure you.”

Val forced a hand from his pocket and patted Léger on the back. “Just keep your eyes open. Report to me directly if you see anything suspicious.”

“Of course.”

Val stepped off the charter as other passengers from the island stepped on.

Rick was already out of eyesight.

Val found Lou and Rick in the warehouse. Adam walked them around and pointed out the space designed to accept food and beverages that needed to be kept cool.

“Who delivers the wine?” Rick was asking when Val walked up to the group of men.

Adam told him the name of the company in charge of delivering the wine. “Mr. Picano himself will often bring in cases. But the crates started to come in between his personal deliveries. We have quite the stockpile.”

Rick removed his phone and sent off a text. “How long does it sit in the warehouse?”

“As little as possible.”

The four of them followed Adam as he led them to the wine vault. An entire ten-by-twenty-foot space was stacked with Picano’s label.

Val knew the system of taking deliveries, but hadn’t realized that Alonzo’s wine had started to arrive in such large quantities.

Rick shrugged off his coat, even though the vault was just below fifty degrees. “This is going to take some time.”

Val narrowed his eyes. “What is going to take time?”

Rick pointed to the pallets. “We’re opening every crate.”

Lou took a box cutter and started slicing into the plastic wrap that sealed in the crates of wine.

“What do you hope to find?” Val asked.

“Answers.”

Without anything else to do, Val removed his jacket and pulled off his tie. “Adam, bring in a pallet to transfer what we’ve already gone through. Don’t mention what we’re doing to anyone in passing.”

“Yes, sir.”

An hour and a half later, they were on the last pallet, each crate was opened, the wine and packing removed, then placed back in to return to the stacked pile. They worked in silence, each crate a disappointment as they found nothing but mislabeled wine.

The hour grew near when Val needed to go to his office and make the call to the authorities about his missing sister. The last text from Meg stated that the phone had yet to ring.

Val yanked open one of the last crates and carelessly removed every bottle. One broke but he kept digging through the box, removing the straw as he went. When all he found was a wooden end to the dig, he lifted the empty crate in both hands and yelled at the object, “Nothing. We have nothing.” He hurled it at the crates they’d already gone through and watched it splinter. “Damn it!” He closed his eyes in frustration, pushed his palm into his forehead to ease the pounding.

Gabi is out there, suffering, and I have nothing.

“Holy shit!” Rick said in a low, rumbling roar.

“What?” Val turned away from the mess he’d made to find Rick and Lou staring at the broken crate.

He swiveled and stared.

The crate had taken the force on the bottom. The wooden box had a deep pocket between the bottom of the bottles and the actual base of the crate. In between was a space not larger than an inch. But that inch held something other than air.

The three of them approached the broken crate.

Rick reached it first and lifted a hammer they’d used to open the boxes to pry the unbroken wood away. The box shattered and displayed a false bottom. In it was a tightly bound substance. Using a pocketknife, Rick poked into the wrap and removed something black. He brought it to his nose and sniffed. “Jesus.”

“What is it?”

“I need a test kit to be sure . . .”

“What do you think it is?” Val asked.

Lou answered, “Heroin . . . in its early stage.”

The image of Gabi holding out her arm for a needle smothered Val.

Lou and Rick sprang into action. They moved to different pallets, removed a random crate, ripped open lids, dumped the wine, stuffing, and anything inside into a garbage bin, then smashed the boxes to find more of the same.

“Looks like we found out why Picano is giving away his wine.”

The three of them looked at all the pallets. “Someone is going to want this back,” Lou said. “There’s enough here to kill for.”

“Drug lord quantities if you ask me,” Rick added.

“Gabi,” Val whispered.

Rick rested his hand on Val’s shoulder. “As long as we have this, he’ll keep her alive. It’s his only real leverage.”