Page 29
Story: Secrets in Calusa Cove
Now how the hell could he respond to that one without pissing off this chick even more. Guess it didn’t matter. He might as well be honest. Hopefully, it wouldn’t land him in the gator and snake-infested water. “While I served with Ken for thirteen years, I’m sorry, but he almost never talked about you.”
She jerked her body so hard that she fell off the captain’s chair, landing on the bottom of the boat with athud.
“Crap,” she mumbled.
“Are you okay?” He leaned over, stretching out his hand.
“I’m fine.” She batted it away, hoisting herself back up on the bench. “Are you serious? Not even when they talked about their hometown? What about Fletcher?”
Well, this was turning out to be a dicey but interesting conversation. “Of course, your name was brought up, but it wasn’t something Ken ever discussed, especially after he married. But they also didn’t talk much about Calusa Cove. Fletcher and Baily were more off than on—more friends than a couple until Baily took over the marina, and then she was always fighting with Ken about what to do with it. Ken was married to Julie, and they wanted nothing to do with this town or the marina. Me, Keaton, and Hayes, we would walk away because it became this weird, awkward thing between those two.” Dawson spoke so fast he could barely catch his breath. He’d asked Ken a couple of times about Audra, and once, he’d thought Ken would punch him in the throat.
“Wow. This conversation is making you really uncomfortable, isn’t it?”
“Yup.”
“Is it me, Ken, or?—”
“All of it,” Dawson admitted. “I thought I knew everything about Ken, but I’m learning I don’t.”
She patted his shoulder. “There are a lot of secrets in Calusa Cove. Everyone who has ever lived here has one, Fletcher included.”
Yeah, but he knew Fletcher’s.
“Okay, so what’s yours?” he asked.
“I didn’t kill my father.” She arched a brow. “But I know he’s dead.”
Dawson narrowed his stare. “I might need you to say more because there was no body. He was never found. And according to Trip’s file, you have no memory of what happened.”
“I remembered something that I didn’t remember sixteen years ago.”
He pulled back on the steering lever, turning the boat toward the docks. Both Keaton and Fletcher stood at the end of the last one.
“And what was that?” Dawson asked.
She leaned forward. “Not here. I don’t trust anyone in this town. I might not trust you,” she whispered in his ear. “I have to check into my accommodations at Harvey’s Cabins. Meet me there in an hour. I’ll let you check out my drone and even let your guy check out my boat.” She jumped to her feet, tossing her line to Fletcher, leaving a stunned Dawson to chew on her words for a few moments while his body tried to recover from the tickling of her hot breath.
* * *
Dawson pulledinto Massey’s Pub. The parking lot was packed, and he had to go all the way to the back to find a spot. He could have illegally parked. He was the police chief, after all.
But that would be an abuse of power, and he never did it—unless he had to.
While this technically fell under police business, he wasn’t going to call attention to himself. Not tonight.
Remy pulled in next to him and stepped out of his vehicle. “You really want backup for this?”
“No, I want a witness,” Dawson said.
“That’s just plain weird. Mind if I ask why? You didn’t give me too many details when you called me.”
Dawson looped his fingers in his belt and strolled toward the entrance of the pub with his chest puffed out. He’d never quite taken to his uniform. It always felt like a power grab. A very different feel from his Navy whites or blues. Even when he’d been an MP in the military, wearing the uniform had never been about anything other than to protect and serve. It was all he knew. All he understood. “For now, just follow my lead.”
“You got it, Chief.”
“Good evening, Chief,” the hostess said. “Remy.” She nodded. “Would you boys like a table this evening? I’ve got one that opened up in the back.”
“No, thanks,” Dawson said. “We’ve got a little police business we need to take care of. We won’t be but a few minutes.”
She jerked her body so hard that she fell off the captain’s chair, landing on the bottom of the boat with athud.
“Crap,” she mumbled.
“Are you okay?” He leaned over, stretching out his hand.
“I’m fine.” She batted it away, hoisting herself back up on the bench. “Are you serious? Not even when they talked about their hometown? What about Fletcher?”
Well, this was turning out to be a dicey but interesting conversation. “Of course, your name was brought up, but it wasn’t something Ken ever discussed, especially after he married. But they also didn’t talk much about Calusa Cove. Fletcher and Baily were more off than on—more friends than a couple until Baily took over the marina, and then she was always fighting with Ken about what to do with it. Ken was married to Julie, and they wanted nothing to do with this town or the marina. Me, Keaton, and Hayes, we would walk away because it became this weird, awkward thing between those two.” Dawson spoke so fast he could barely catch his breath. He’d asked Ken a couple of times about Audra, and once, he’d thought Ken would punch him in the throat.
“Wow. This conversation is making you really uncomfortable, isn’t it?”
“Yup.”
“Is it me, Ken, or?—”
“All of it,” Dawson admitted. “I thought I knew everything about Ken, but I’m learning I don’t.”
She patted his shoulder. “There are a lot of secrets in Calusa Cove. Everyone who has ever lived here has one, Fletcher included.”
Yeah, but he knew Fletcher’s.
“Okay, so what’s yours?” he asked.
“I didn’t kill my father.” She arched a brow. “But I know he’s dead.”
Dawson narrowed his stare. “I might need you to say more because there was no body. He was never found. And according to Trip’s file, you have no memory of what happened.”
“I remembered something that I didn’t remember sixteen years ago.”
He pulled back on the steering lever, turning the boat toward the docks. Both Keaton and Fletcher stood at the end of the last one.
“And what was that?” Dawson asked.
She leaned forward. “Not here. I don’t trust anyone in this town. I might not trust you,” she whispered in his ear. “I have to check into my accommodations at Harvey’s Cabins. Meet me there in an hour. I’ll let you check out my drone and even let your guy check out my boat.” She jumped to her feet, tossing her line to Fletcher, leaving a stunned Dawson to chew on her words for a few moments while his body tried to recover from the tickling of her hot breath.
* * *
Dawson pulledinto Massey’s Pub. The parking lot was packed, and he had to go all the way to the back to find a spot. He could have illegally parked. He was the police chief, after all.
But that would be an abuse of power, and he never did it—unless he had to.
While this technically fell under police business, he wasn’t going to call attention to himself. Not tonight.
Remy pulled in next to him and stepped out of his vehicle. “You really want backup for this?”
“No, I want a witness,” Dawson said.
“That’s just plain weird. Mind if I ask why? You didn’t give me too many details when you called me.”
Dawson looped his fingers in his belt and strolled toward the entrance of the pub with his chest puffed out. He’d never quite taken to his uniform. It always felt like a power grab. A very different feel from his Navy whites or blues. Even when he’d been an MP in the military, wearing the uniform had never been about anything other than to protect and serve. It was all he knew. All he understood. “For now, just follow my lead.”
“You got it, Chief.”
“Good evening, Chief,” the hostess said. “Remy.” She nodded. “Would you boys like a table this evening? I’ve got one that opened up in the back.”
“No, thanks,” Dawson said. “We’ve got a little police business we need to take care of. We won’t be but a few minutes.”
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