Page 11

CHAPTER 10

Dawson kicked a pebble. “I can’t believe Tim’s dead. Killed on my watch and right under my flipping nose,” he mumbled. His first murder since becoming chief of police of Calusa Cove, and it was possible he’d have to recuse himself from the entire process, all because his girlfriend and the victim had exchanged words. That fact was only made worse by images sent by Tim’s cousin that put Audra at the crime scene.

Utter crap, and now Dawson had to deal with the fallout—but he couldn’t even do that while standing in the thick of things. No, he had to take a backseat, and that just pissed him off.

Not that he was happy someone had been killed, but still. He wanted to be the one to link the pieces together. It wasn’t about being a hero. That had never been his reason for joining the Navy, being an MP, or being a SEAL. Or for becoming a cop.

It had always been about helping people. Taking care of his community. Doing for others what they had done for him when he’d had no one.

“What did that rock ever do to you?” Hayes came up behind him and squeezed his shoulder. As a first responder and firefighter, Dawson was grateful that Hayes had been on duty last night and this morning. It made his life a little easier.

“Nothing. Just frustrated.”

“I don’t blame you. Anything new?” Hayes asked.

Dawson shook his head. “My team’s still down there on Tim’s boat with State. I’m keeping my distance while they gather evidence. I don’t want to be accused of tainting that process. So far, Remy’s been a little too tight-lipped for my liking.”

“I’m sure he’s doing exactly what we would in this situation.” Hayes nodded. “Fletcher and Keaton are five minutes out. Are you sure you don’t want one of them at Harvey’s Cabins?”

“Each one of my deputies is willing to tail those two city assholes while off duty. Plus, Hondo’s got two weeks off charter. Outside of helping my general contractor, he’s totally bored.” Dawson’s lips twisted. “He doesn’t mind hanging out with his wife while his kids drive his mother-in-law nuts. Besides, everything that’s happening is making him twitchy. He would prefer being where his bride is, and I don’t blame him.”

Dawson leaned against the post near the docks. He stared at the State CSI unit as they continued to take pictures of the crime scene. If he could afford to give Lilly time off work at the cabins, he would. But he needed someone there during the day. “Both Eliot and James have confirmed that the dynamite belonged to them. They said it was in the crates when I loaded it into my police vehicle. I call bullshit on that because I have a log of it, and Anna is anal-retentive when it comes to evidence. I also counted the sticks myself before she brought them inside. So, I know they’re lying. It’s proving it that’s going to be difficult.”

“Well, after this call, I’m done for the day,” Hayes said. “I can take over at the cabins if you want.”

“I’ve got something else in mind for you,” Dawson said. “But I told Lilly that if she was uncomfortable working because of the situation with Audra, she could ask the other staff. She told me to shove it.”

“Sounds like Lilly,” Hayes said with a slight grin.

Dawson eyed his team as they moved about the docks, careful not to disrupt anything. Dawson was proud of his team.

Remy was an excellent cop, and while they’d had a rough start of it when Dawson had first taken the job, the last five months had been smooth sailing. He trusted that Remy would not only crack the case, but he would keep him informed, feeding him intel and allowing him to wet his whistle, so to speak—without compromising the case.

Hayes pulled an envelope from his back pocket. “Anna wanted me to give this to you.”

Dawson took the envelope and ripped it open as if he were a kid on Christmas morning. He unfolded the piece of paper and stared at the words on the page. “Jesus,” he muttered.

“What is it?”

“Remember those old wood pieces I had you take from the island with no name?”

Hayes nodded.

“I sent them over to the FBI and the DEA on a whim. Well, Agent Ballard with the FBI just got back to me. He can’t be sure, but it looks like it could be remnants of crates used to transport cocaine.”

“When Trevor Williams was chief of police?” Hayes asked.

“No.” Dawson shook his head. “This was from about seventeen years ago. He remembers the cartel markings. They would use out-of-the-way towns like Calusa Cove, where they’d find small fishing charters, touring boats, even personal yachts that wouldn’t draw attention, to bring them into places like the Everglades to hide product until they could move it.”

“Do you think Trip could’ve been doing the same thing his son did?”

“Anything is possible, but my gut says no,” Dawson said. “I requested to see Trevor in prison. He refused to see me. I think he’s scared.”

“Makes sense,” Hayes said. “Did you interview Silas yesterday?”

“I’m supposed to meet with him this morning.” Dawson checked his watch. “Here at the docks in about an hour.” He ran his fingers through his hair and let out a long breath. “I’m baffled by his statement. Silas is a lot of things, and he’s a royal pain in my ass on most days. But in the nine months I’ve been chief of police in this town, he’s never once come to me with a situation that was false. He’s always been honest about things.”

“He has insinuated that Audra might’ve killed her dad.”

Dawson pinched the bridge of his nose. “He questioned why she left the way she did. When Remy asked him about that yesterday, he said, what else could he believe based on her actions? He told him he didn’t want to believe it, but there wasn’t another logical explanation. He swore it pained him to even think it, and that if I could come up with a better explanation—one that worked—he’d listen.”

“Do you think he’s redirecting? Or trying to get you to look elsewhere?” Hayes cocked his head.

“It’s possible. Silas can be a slick bastard when he wants to be, but why would he turn on Paul Massey and accuse him of firing those shots—even if they were at nothing? They’re about as close as two men can be. That one doesn’t make sense, and to make matters worse, we couldn’t locate Paul last night to come in and take the damn test. I couldn’t find his son either, and that bothers me for different reasons.”

“I’ve seen him more than once with those city boys, but I’m sure he’ll show up here this morning, and you’ll get your chance,” Hayes said. “Whatever happened with Benson’s tire?”

“Nothing.” Dawson shrugged. “He decided to let it go. He figures we can’t prove anything, and he’s right, but I’ve heard he’s been telling those who will listen he still believes it was Audra. That he thinks I’ve got shit for brains and that this town would love to see me get canned.”

“We both know that’s bullshit. In the meantime, what do you want me to do?”

“Let’s get into that when Keaton and Fletcher get here,” Dawson said. “I called Baily and asked if she could go over and have breakfast with Audra. We’re not letting any boats out of here until we clear the crime scene. No point in Baily opening the marina until that happens, but I promised her I’d give her a heads-up when I think we’re about done.”

“How did Audra take the news?”

Dawson stuck his index finger in his ear. “Let’s just say that woman cusses more than a drunken sailor. She takes everything so personally.”

“Can you blame her in this instance?”

“Can’t say that I do, but she gets so fired up. She has two speeds. Out of control and barely in control.” Dawson sighed. “However, I find it very suspect that we couldn’t find Tim last night. My deputies searched for him for hours into the night before giving up. Then we get a call from his cousin at five that he found Tim dead in his boat after waking up to a series of texts that he was in fear for his life. He told him that he thought Audra was stalking him and that if anything happened to him, Audra was behind it.”

“Don’t forget the picture Tim sent to Dennis of Audra’s car parked at the marina,” Hayes said. “And of Audra sneaking around Tim’s house.”

“We both know Audra’s car was left here last night.” Dawson glared. “That other image is grainy as fuck. Hasn’t been authenticated, and I know exactly where Audra was all night.” He lowered his chin. “No one in this town wants to fuck with me or my integrity, and Audra didn’t leave my bed. She uses sex to deal with her problems, and I swear she?—”

“I don’t need the details, and there’s no need to get defensive with me.” Hayes jerked his chin toward the road. “What are you going to do about the press? Or about the gossip?”

“Remy will handle the press after we’ve had a chance to chat about the details of the case.” Dawson raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m not going to address the gossip. If I do, they’ll hang me. If I don’t feed the beast, they can only speculate. If it gets really out of hand, I’ll make some calculated corrections.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I get why you’re tiptoeing around this, but if you let things fester, it’ll only get worse.”

“Yeah, but if I bullet point the rumors, I look like I’m hiding something—or I’m ashamed of my actions. Which I’m not. I’m still the chief of police. I’m allowed to have a personal life. Technically, I don’t have to take a step back. I just can’t interview Audra since I’m her alibi.” Only this time, a gunpowder residue test wasn’t going to save her from further speculation since it appeared Tim had been killed by a hunting knife. It shouldn’t be too hard to rule out any knife that Audra had in her possession.

But an autopsy still needed to be performed. Prints needed to be run. Images needed to be run through all the tests.

There was at least two days’ worth of crime lab work before he and Remy could make deductive decisions. In the meantime, it was all about keeping the town calm.

And Audra out of trouble.

“Then why are you handing this case over to Remy?”

“Optics.” Dawson chuckled. “You know I rented cabin one yesterday.”

Hayes pounded his chest. “She’s basically living with you.”

“Staying with me would be a better descriptor.” Dawson cocked his head.

“You don’t need the money. Why rent it so quickly?” Hayes asked.

“I felt bad for a city slicker driving a Range Rover that broke down. He needed a place to stay until the auto shop could get his part. Trinity called her dad, but he can’t get the part for a few days.”

“That has my hackles up. Doesn’t it make you suspicious?” Hayes asked.

“I know where you’re going with this, and I’ve already run the plate on his vehicle,” Dawson said with a chuckle. “His name is Decker Brown. He’s a land developer. There's no reason to be suspicious about him. He has no ties to this town and no connection to Audra, Tim, or anyone else, but just to be safe, I had Agent Ballard do a deeper dive.”

“Still, he’s not the kind of person we want staying in our sleepy little town and getting ideas,” Hayes said. “People are always trying to change the landscape of places like this.”

“Except, with the Everglades being our backyard—literally—it’s impossible. You can’t build condos. There are no beaches here in Calusa Cove. Nothing to bring in tourists. Anyone trying to develop here would lose their shirt. I’m not worried about Decker Brown spending a couple of nights in my cabins. Poor guy probably can’t wait to get out of here, anyway.” Dawson pointed to the police barricade. “Who the hell is that?” A tall woman—mid-thirties—wearing a standard issue dark suit flashed a badge. She’d pulled her long hair back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck and pushed her sunglasses on top of her head.

Hayes turned. “I have no idea. Never seen her before.”

“Looks like a Fed,” Dawson mumbled as he watched her flash something to one of his deputies on her way toward him. “Wonderful. Just what I need.”

“Excuse me.” The woman stuffed her hands in her pockets.

Dawson glanced at his buddy, who was practically salivating.

Jesus.

“Can I help you?” Dawson asked.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” the lady said. “My name is Special Agent Chloe Frasier. Are you Chief Dawson Ridge?”

“I am,” Dawson started. “But we didn’t call for the FBI.”

“I don’t believe I’m here for whatever you’ve got going on—unless you’ve found one of these people.” She held up her phone, showing off an image. Two women. One man. All in their late teens or early twenties. “Two of them I’m not sure you would have. But that young girl right there.” She tapped the screen. “She was last seen about an hour north of here.”

“Mind if I take a closer look?” Dawson asked.

“Please.” She pushed her phone forward. “And your firefighter friend, too.”

“How long have these people been missing?” Hayes asked.

“This girl, only forty-eight hours. That’s why I’m scrambling, chasing every lead. But the other two? Well, that one has been missing for a year. The other, one for six months,” Chloe said. “Unfortunately, they all fit the victimology of a killer I’ve been chasing for the last two years.”

“Jesus,” Dawson muttered. His day couldn’t get any worse. “I can’t say I’ve seen her or the other two. But if you send the information to my office, we’ll keep a lookout.”

“I’d appreciate that.” She tucked her phone in her back pocket. “Anything I can help you with here?”

“Not right now,” Dawson said. “I’ve been speaking with an Agent Ballard about a cold case. I'm not sure if it’s related, but he’s been my point of contact.”

“Ballard’s a good man,” Agent Frasier said. “We work out of the same office—different divisions—but we’ve worked on a few things together over the years. Be sure to call us if you need anything at all. We’re both always happy to help the locals.”

“I will. Thanks.”

Chloe handed him a business card. She smiled, but not at Dawson, only at Hayes.

Interesting.

And Hayes stared at her ass as she walked away.

Dawson nudged his shoulder. “You can put your eyes back in their sockets.”

“Dude, I’m trying.” Hayes pounded his chest with his fist. He coughed. “I’ve never seen a woman fill out a standard issue black boring suit like that before.”

Dawson laughed. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to make me feel better or if you’re really contemplating hitting on that Fed.”

“Oh, that’s about the only thought on my mind right now.” It was rare that Hayes made any comments about women. His love life had always been insanely private, like all the guys. But Hayes more so than the rest. He’d had a couple of girlfriends over the years, but no one had broken his heart—to Dawson’s knowledge. As far as he knew, Hayes just didn’t want to settle down and get married.

Maybe it was because he was one of twelve kids or had a twin who had died when he’d been very young. Or maybe it was his religious upbringing. Who knew? Hayes didn’t talk about it much other than a shrug of his shoulder and to laugh it off, stating that Cupid hadn’t caught him—yet.

“Here comes the rest of the team,” Dawson said.

They each might represent a different facet of Calusa Cove, but these men were still his team. His family. They were all he had left in this world, and he couldn’t imagine his life without them in it.

“We stopped by Harvey’s Cabins,” Keaton said as he marched across the pavement. “It’s mostly quiet. I did have to chase off one reporter lurking in the bushes.”

“Someone told the media about this murder before we even got here,” Dawson said. “I suspect a local tipped them off based on the spin.” He took the mug of coffee that Fletcher offered and made his way to the picnic table. “You told me her return would cause a ruckus, but damn, this has gotten out of hand.” He sipped the hot, bitter brew. “A lot of people in this town don’t like Tim. While no female has ever come to me saying he crossed the line, I’ve seen a few fend off his advances at Massey’s.” Dawson held up his finger. “However, I learned that he did assault Audra in high school. I don’t give a shit that she handled it herself, but it should’ve been reported. Am I dealing with something more sinister?” He stared at Fletcher.

“Not that I’m aware of, and he was hitting on Baily when we first got back. Nothing bad. Just asked her out and didn’t easily take no for an answer until I told him to back off,” Fletcher said. “Why are you asking me this now?”

Dawson sighed. “Because I need to find myself a suspect—other than Audra—the local witch. Or swamp monster, depending on who you’re talking to.”

“I see.” Fletcher leaned against the tree on the other side of the picnic table. “Normally, it wouldn’t be too hard to find a dozen or so people in this town who didn’t like Tim—and with good reason. But unfortunately, with Audra back in town, everyone dislikes her—and is afraid of her. Who has more of a reason to want her gone? All her life, if someone said something negative about her or her family, she played into the rumors. Before she became a teenager, she ran around this town barefoot, with ratty hair and torn clothes. She looked like a wild child, and her only friends were me, Ken, and Baily. When she hit fourteen, she at least started looking like a human, but it was too late. She was the local Stigini, and all the kids were told to stay away from her.”

“Well, those kids are now adults, and my gut tells me someone is framing her for Tim’s murder,” Dawson said. From the second Audra had stepped foot in Calusa Cove, weird shit kept happening to the point none of it could be a coincidence.

Messing with her drone and her boat was one thing. The dynamite added a different element, but it all came down to wanting her gone.

Accusing her of killing snakes with a gun—well, as inhumane as that was, those damn snakes were a menace. Dawson and the gang might let something like that slide under certain circumstances.

But murder?

There was more to this story. Tim was either collateral damage—and that just sucked—or he had betrayed someone. Dawson didn’t know the players. However, he did have a theory as to why.

Drugs. Weapons. Or both.

Dawson pulled out his cell phone and tapped his notes app. “I’m sending you all my notes, with some files I shouldn’t. But I need eyes and your honest opinion,” he said, “because I think this all goes back to when Victor disappeared.” He sent his buddies the files. “I also need to do a sweep of the swamp. The darkest, most out-of-the-way places in the Everglades near us. Anywhere someone could hide?—”

“Hey, Chief,” Remy called. “We need you down here, pronto.”

“Coming.” Dawson stood and glanced around the group. “Do you all hear what I’m saying?”

“You honestly think there was truth to what Victor was rambling about all those years ago?” Fletcher arched a brow.

“Considering the former chief of police is in prison for running drugs through this town, yeah, I do. Also, I think we owe it to Audra to find out one way or another.” Dawson turned and jogged down toward the dock. “What’s up, Remy?”

“You’re not going to like this.”

Dawson followed Remy toward the waterfront. He could feel the daggers of everyone standing behind the crime scene tape. If he wasn’t mistaken, a few locals mumbled for him to go home, to crawl back under the rock from which he’d come. He didn’t dare glance over his shoulder. It had taken him months to gain the trust of the majority of the town. Sure, people like Paul and Dewey would never trust him. They constantly questioned his loyalty. If you weren’t born in Calusa Cove, you didn’t belong. If you left Calusa Cove, you weren’t welcome back.

The medical examiner and his team lifted the body onto the gurney and wheeled it past. The CSI unit had placed numbered placards beside different objects, and they continued to snap pictures.

“When the ME moved the body, we found something interesting,” Remy said.

“And what’s that?” Dawson pinched the bridge of his nose as he stood on the dock by Tim’s airboat. He scanned the spot where the body had been found, and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.

Remy didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. They both knew they were looking at Audra’s shirt.

“Seems strange that a killer would tuck that under a body,” Remy whispered.

Dawson rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m pretty sure that’s Audra’s, and she left it on my boat last night.”

“We can easily confirm that.” Remy nodded.

“Only problem is, I already looked for it when I came here and couldn’t find it.”

“Well, shit,” Remy mumbled.

“What about the security cameras?” Dawson pointed to the one by the dock and the second one near the front of the marina. “I get someone shot them, but we might be able to pull something before that happened.”

“Baily just got back to me with the code to her computer.” Remy waved his cell. “Why don’t we go into the marina and check it out.”

“Let’s do it.” Dawson spun on his heel and marched off the dock.

“Chief Ridge,” some reporter he didn’t know called out.

“Hey, Dawson. What can you tell us…” another one he did know rambled.

“Yo, Dawson. You’re sleeping with a murderer. How does it feel?” a familiar voice vibrated in his brain.

Dawson paused, clenching his fists.

“Do what you’d expect her to do,” Remy said quietly. “Let it go and keep on walking.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Dawson wiggled his fingers and picked up the pace. He stood by the front door of the marina and waited for Remy to open the door with the keycode he’d gotten from Baily. His pulse pounded between his temples. For most of his life, he’d been calm, cool, and collected. The only time he’d panicked or struggled had been when he was learning how to swim. He’d taken a crash course six weeks before he’d left for the Navy. His will had been powered by imagining if he’d arrived there and couldn’t even manage to tread water.

But he’d survived. He figured if he could overcome that fear, he could do anything.

Now he wondered if this damn town was going to kill him.

“Baily said the cameras are glitchy. That they don’t always work, but she doesn’t have the money to update them,” Remy said as he made his way behind the counter. He flipped open the laptop and tapped away on the keyboard.

Of course, Baily hadn’t updated them. Damn, the girl was lucky she kept this place afloat, and she wouldn’t let them help. She’d almost refused to let them run their airboat tour company at her docks, which had brought her a decent penny just in boat slip rentals. However, she’d quickly changed her mind because it was either close and lose her shirt or take them up on their offer.

However, she was still drowning in debt. It drove Fletcher crazy that she wouldn’t let him and the rest of the guys do more.

“All right. Here we go,” Remy said.

Dawson leaned over his deputy’s shoulder. The image was beyond grainy. The frame came in and out as if the internet turned on and off. “There.” Dawson tapped the screen. His heart bounced in his chest. “Freeze the image and blow it up.”

“Sure thing.”

Dawson squinted. “Whoever that is, it’s not Audra. No way could she fit that mane of hers under a baseball cap. She has to pull it through the hole in the back, and there’s no hair floating down the center of that person’s back.” He tapped the top of the screen. “Timestamp is four twenty-eight in the morning. Roll tape.”

The video moved along for another forty-three seconds before the person lifted a gun. A flash filled the screen and then went blank.

“Well, I guess we know what happened to that camera,” Remy said.

“Rewind it. This time, focus on the boat. Let’s see if we can see any markings on it.”

Remy glanced over his shoulder. “It’s dark and grainy. Why don’t we let the CSI team do it?”

“Because once you hand it off, it goes to State, and while I trust them?—”

“It’ll be logged into our system,” Remy said. “We’ll have access to it, and I think Detective Lester had a hard-on for you.”

“Not the point. Just do it.” Dawson sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I want to see it one more time. Humor me, man.”

“All right, but that’s not even an airboat. It’s a flat-bottom?—”

“Boston Whaler, and it’s too fuzzy to make out any numbers if the damn thing even has any,” Dawson said. “Who do we know that owns one of those?” He cocked a brow. “Silas. Tim. Paul. Dewey. Andrew. Morgan. Even Trinity owns one.” Dawson smacked his fist on the counter. “Hell, Baily has three of them for rent out of these docks.”

“And don’t forget Paul’s son owns one,” Remy said. “He keeps his boat down the street at the big marina because he’s an asshole.”

“Wonderful,” Dawson muttered.

“We have the other camera footage to look at,” Remy said calmly as he tapped on the keyboard, pulling up the second camera.

For the next five minutes, they watched the wind rustle a few leaves across the ground before the camera went dead, catching nothing.

“Damn,” Dawson muttered. That video had told him absolutely nothing. The only thing he knew for sure was someone didn’t just want Audra to leave town.

They wanted her gone in a more permanent way, and they were willing to frame her for murder to do it.