Page 6

CHAPTER 5

Dawson rolled to a stop in the parking lot of Mitchell’s Marina. Benson Massey leaned against his SUV with his cell in his hands. He glanced up and waved Dawson over.

Wonderful.

“Chief Ridge, I need to speak with you for a moment,” Benson said. “It’s important.”

“Sure thing.” Dawson rolled up the window, slipped from the driver’s seat, and strolled toward Benson. Dawson had only met the young man three or four times, even though he was aware he came to town relatively often to visit his parents.

Paul was quite proud of his son and talked about him constantly. But Paul spoke about both his children—and his grandchildren—every chance he got.

“What can I help you with?” Dawson noted the empty snake bag at Benson’s feet.

“Would you mind taking a look at my tire?”

While Dawson didn’t mind changing a flat for a kid or a little old lady or old man, he did take issue with helping out a strapping gentleman. “What seems to be the problem?”

“You tell me.” He waved his hand over the rear passenger side.

Dawson knelt, running his hand over the rubber and fingering a slit in the tire. Not just any slit. Nope. It wasn’t jagged. It hadn’t been caused by a rock, a curb, or even a nail. No, Dawson suspected a nice sharp blade had done this damage. “I see your dilemma.” He pulled out his cell, texting one of his deputies to request that he make his way to this location to take the report. If he didn’t at least go through the motions of having it examined, Paul would be down his throat.

“I’m supposed to be back out there with my dad, but this is putting a damper on my day.”

“My deputy is five minutes away. He’ll take a report if that’s what you want. He can even help you change the tire.”

“That’s all fine, but what about dealing with the bitch who did this?” Benson cocked a brow.

“Sounds like you’re making an accusation.”

“Damn right, I am.” Benson nodded. “Audra McCain. She slashed my tire when she was a kid, so why would now be any different?”

“Did you see her lurking around your truck this morning?”

“No. But I’m sure she snuck back in after we all went out. That witch is sneaky like that.”

“So, other than she did it once a long time ago, you have no real reason to believe this was her.” Dawson glanced over his shoulder as his deputy pulled in. “Hang tight here. I’m going to head down to the docks. Everyone has to report in when they return. I’ll find out if Audra has been back at all.”

“That Audra is a slippery one,” Benson said. “I’m sure she could’ve come in under the radar. She knows every nook and cranny of the Everglades—even ones no one else does.”

While Dawson didn’t doubt that Audra knew the area, there weren’t many ways back out into open water, and they all snaked into one channel—the one that went right by Mitchell’s.

He jogged down to the docks and found Fletcher sitting at the far one, chewing on a Twizzler. “Hey, man. How’s it going?”

“Just dandy, you?”

“I’ve had better days,” Dawson admitted. “I need a list of who’s come in today.”

“Benson, Ripley, Emmerson and his brother Rhett, and Jonas. That’s it so far, but I suspect we’ll see a few more come in shortly for dinner. Why?”

“Does everyone in this town believe Audra is a bad person?”

“Not everyone, but I’d say more than half, and almost everyone has trust issues with her because they don’t understand her. She doesn’t help herself by being so damn sarcastic and feeding into that shit.”

“Just my luck,” Dawson muttered as he stared at the sky. “I need to ask you a question, and I need a straight answer.”

Fletcher narrowed his stare. “Since when have I ever not been honest with you?”

“Since never, but things in this town sometimes are ass-backward, and I need to know what kind of relationship Ken had with Benson.” Dawson arched a brow.

Fletcher rubbed the back of his neck. “Benson and I have never gotten along, so when he and Ken got a little buddy-buddy, I asked Ken why. He shrugged and said he was just being nice. But Ken also worked for Benson’s dad, so it wasn’t the strangest thing in the world. However, they had words before he decided to join me on my journey into the Navy.”

“What was the fight about?” Dawson asked.

Fletcher rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know. Benson probably said something about Audra. That’s usually what happened.”

“And you never asked Ken to elaborate?”

“No,” Fletcher said. “Is there something I need to know about?”

“I’m not sure, but thanks for the intel,” Dawson said. “I’ll be heading out on the water in a bit. I’ll be in touch later.” He made a beeline for the parking lot. “All right, Benson. Audra hasn’t reported to the docks since this morning.” He raised his hand. “I’ll have a chat with her.” He scribbled the names that Fletcher gave him on a piece of paper and handed it to his deputy. “My man here will question those who have reported in. Also, if you can give us any other names of people who might not like you or have a bone to pick with you, that would be helpful.”

“I gave you a name,” Benson said. “Everyone else in this town loves me.”

“I’ll be in touch.” Dawson turned and headed back to the docks. Specifically, the dock where he parked his airboat. He climbed aboard and did his best to leave the day's problems behind. He checked his watch. He still had another good hour and a half of daylight, and it was a nice afternoon for a boat ride in the Everglades.

He pushed off from the dock and headed down the channel.

Dawson’s favorite part about Calusa Cove was being on the water, and he had a couple of options, making it even sweeter.

Boats were the only thing he was willing to spend money on, and currently, outside of the airboats for Everglades Overwatch, he owned two personal vessels. He had a nice Boston Whaler Outrage. It had cost him a pretty penny, but she was worth it. She gave him two options to enjoy the fresh salty air.

There was the ocean. He loved deep-sea fishing, scuba diving, and just the vastness of the open waters. His Whaler could handle open seas—if the chop wasn’t over four to six feet. Maybe seven if the distance between the swells were six to eight seconds. Or more. Many times, he couldn’t take his boat out in the ocean because of the weather. But no matter.

There was always option number two. Dawson liked options. Chokoloskee Bay was a beautiful bay nestled behind a bunch of barrier islands. The bay was suitable for fishing and floating, and on a clear day, there were some good scuba and snorkeling spots.

And, of course, he loved cruising through the channels of the Everglades on his airboat. He didn’t have many days off between being the chief of police, helping to run Everglades Overwatch, and his latest purchase six months ago of Harvey’s Cabins, but every free moment he got, he was on the water.

It was ironic since, as a child, he’d been utterly terrified of swimming, even in a pool. His nana had been shocked by his decision to join the Navy. Learning how to swim had been one of his biggest challenges in life.

His parents had died when a boat charter they had been on capsized during a squall that had come out of nowhere. His mom and nana had been scrimping and saving for that charter for years. They’d given it to his dad as an anniversary present. His parents had never gone on a honeymoon, and it was supposed to be their chance to have a romantic getaway. Dawson had nightmares about what his parents must have endured.

But now, being on the water made him feel as though he were closer to his mom and dad. It was as if he were honoring them and making them proud of what he’d accomplished with his life.

He pulled his sunglasses off his face and tucked them in his shirt pocket. He hadn’t bothered to change out of his uniform, mainly because the day had gotten away, and he wanted to spend what little sunlight was left on anything other than dry land.

A few boats zoomed past, heading back toward the marina. He’d gotten reports of at least eight snakes being captured during the hunt. What an excellent start to the challenge.

An airboat slowed as it approached, pulling up beside his.

Silas .

Silas cut his engine.

Dawson checked the time, surprised he’d already been out on the water for over an hour. Time always flew in the Everglades.

“Got me one.” Silas held up a bag. “Sucker’s nine feet long. Saw one at least fifteen feet, but damn thing slithered into the water, and I couldn’t catch him.”

“That’s too bad, but I’m sure you’ll get many more. You’re one of the best wranglers in these parts.” Dawson didn’t stroke that man’s ego often, but today was about restoring the Everglades. Nothing more, nothing less. Dawson could handle giving the old man a pat on the back.

The sun dipped below the horizon, and it would soon be dark. Even with a clear night, the moon and stars wouldn’t light up the Everglades. However, many hunters were known to come out here, and snakes tended to be active then, making it a little more exciting—and much more dangerous.

They couldn’t stop people from staying out, but they tried.

“Are you heading in for the night?” Dawson dared to ask.

Silas laughed. “Yeah, right. I’m out here all the time at night. My partner’s at the bend, waiting for me to bring him a sandwich and a beer,” he said with a smile.

“We’ve asked everyone to come in after dark.”

“You know that’s not actually a rule. It’s simply a guideline.” Silas set the bag down. “It’s not like I don’t do this year-round.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Everyone out there, except maybe two, are professionals. We know what we’re doing. Just because this is only the second year this area has been open to the challenge doesn’t mean shit. You’re being overly cautious for no reason. Those snakes are destroying the Everglades.”

“I get it, Silas. I do.”

“No, you don’t. You’re from New York. You’re a damn outsider in this town. You don’t know shit.” Silas sneered. “You shouldn’t be wasting your time worrying about me or anyone else from this town.” He lowered his chin. “What you should be concerned with is why Audra McCain decided to return to Calusa Cove after all these years.”

One thing Dawson had learned over the years was that when an opportunity presented itself, he’d be a fool not to take it. This was one hell of an opportunity.

“Why should my hackles be up over Audra?” Dawson asked.

“Come on, don’t play dumb with me. It’s not a good look, not even on you.”

“Rumors and folklore about Everglade Owl Witches don’t give me a reason to believe anything,” Dawson said.

“Well, that Stigini rumor bullshit is stupid. Audra isn’t a swamp monster, but I went through the motions of giving her the benefit of the doubt, and how did she repay me? She snuck out in the middle of the night like a criminal.”

Motions. That was an interesting word choice.

“You should be pulling that file,” Silas said, waving his finger, “and using that badge of yours to finally give this town some peace over what happened.” He leaned closer. “Or maybe she knew of something her dad had hidden out here. That man had all sorts of wild stories. Perhaps one was true, only he was the one doing the crime.”

Now that was an interesting theory.

“Like what?”

“You’re the cop. That’s your job to figure it out, not mine.”

Dawson wanted to remind Silas that he was the one who’d bragged about knowing every inch of the Everglades. Every nook and cranny. That he knew everything that went on in these parts. But Dawson had had enough of this conversation. It wouldn’t get him anywhere. He knew what Silas thought; that meant that over fifty percent of this town believed the same thing.

Silas pushed the lever, engaged the engine, and took off.

Well, that was fun. Not.

Dawson reached for the radio. “ Chumrunner , Chumrunner , Chumrunner , this is Watchdog , over.”

“This is Chumrunner , go ahead,” Keaton said.

“How many boats have made it back beside Silas and Chad?”

“Everyone except Audra,” Keaton said. “But my little lecture about not going out at night isn’t sticking. I’ve got five people scarfing down a quick meal, and they all plan on going on a night run. Looks like I get to work a little overtime.”

“Not fun for you, but did you really expect people to come in and stay in before the sun set?” Dawson rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyone see Audra?”

“I can ask around, but Fletcher warned me she might stay out past dark. They all used to come out here at night as kids. It was their playground. His words, not mine.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Dawson said. “She’s the only solo boat, and I’m shocked you’re not the least bit worried.”

“I never said it didn’t concern me, and honestly, I’m annoyed by it. Hayes is still out there, and I told him to look for her. However, the color of her hair also has my hackles up because of you.”

“I’m not even going to comment.” Dawson did understand his buddy’s concern. His last girlfriend, Liz, had done a number on him—more so than any other redhead.

“Where are you?” Keaton asked.

“Near the loop. I’ll head up toward the fork and see if she went that way.”

“Negatory,” Fletcher’s voice boomed over the radio. “If Audra’s still out there, my guess is she went west past the northwest bend and through Snake River to the island with no name.”

“Why would you think that?” Dawson asked. Why would she venture that deep into the Everglades? Even the locals don’t like to be caught out there when darkness overtook daylight.

“Because that’s where she says she was right before her dad disappeared.”

“It’s not the easiest one to find.” Dawson arched his back. The first few times he’d gone out that far in the Everglades, he’d gotten lost. Really lost. It had been embarrassing. At least he understood the night sky and had used it to navigate his way home. But the damn eyes in the water freaked him right out. Too many fucking gators.

He hated those creatures. Why anyone would want to wrestle one, he had no idea. Coming face-to-face with a few of them last year while dealing with pythons had been scarier than the first time he’d gone underwater. He’d nearly panicked, and he considered himself one of the calmest, laid-back men on the planet, next to Fletcher.

But he drew the line at alligators.

“And some wetlands look like islands near Snake River,” he muttered. He’d made that mistake once or twice in the first few months he’d lived here. Sadly, the guys teased him, but he didn’t give airboat tours as much as everyone else did. His job as chief required more daytime hours than everyone else. He often only did the occasional weekend tour, so his knowledge of the Everglades wasn’t as extensive as the rest of his buddies.

And they loved to razz him about it.

“I told you, it’s the island with no name,” Fletcher said. “The one tucked back deep in the Everglades that almost no one goes to because it’s a swampland. But it’s simple to find. Head northwest. Take the Snake River around the second bend and loop through Gator Junction. There’ll be a fork, so go west and just keep on going. The water will narrow. The trees will dance over your head like baby rattlesnakes. But then it’ll open up, and the island will be on your starboard side. My guess is she’ll be there.”

“Your guess better be right, or when I get back, I’m going to kick your ass.” Dawson hooked the mic in the cradle. Then he took out his phone, pulled up the map, and stared at it for a good second. He’d lose service shortly, but if he left the map open, he’d still be able to use it. He also had a chart in the glove compartment. He knew how to use that. Plus, he was getting better at understanding the twists and turns.

Still, the Everglades were scary as hell at night, especially this section. There was a reason most people didn’t take Snake River at night.

And the eyes in the water were always watching.

He pushed the gas, turned on his spotlight, and headed west. As frightening as the landscape could be, it was also one of the most beautiful places in the world. He slapped his arm when a mosquito bit through his shirt. He headed up Snake River. It was only called that because it bent nine times. Gator Junction had gotten its name when one of the largest gators ever recorded in Florida’s history had been found there. For whatever reason, they named the thing a “junction”—weird-ass name.

The waterway narrowed, and the trees covered the sky. The sun had dipped completely behind the horizon, but her light wasn’t totally gone. However, the thick branches of the trees made it feel like midnight. He checked the time. Nearly an hour had passed since he’d spoken to his buddy.

Thankfully, this part was short, and he eased into a wider body of water. He took the west fork and found the island.

No Audra.

Well, damn.

He continued when his light flashed across something—no, someone. He released the gas lever.

“Hey. Over here.” Audra stood on the bow of her boat, waving her arms above her head. Her fiery hair was piled on top of her head in a sexy mess.

His fingers itched to wrap in the strands of that thick mane. Jesus, he had some serious issues.

He cut the engine and tossed her a line, helping her secure the boat so he could tow it back to the docks, which would be tricky through Snake River, but he’d manage. “What the hell happened?”

“Seems I’ve got a hole in the fuel pump.” She tied the line to her bow.

“Not a good way to start the challenge.”

“Nope, and someone cut it on purpose,” she mumbled.

“Excuse me? How do you know that?”

“I saw them do it. They also must’ve messed with my radio as well as left me these.” She handed him a small bundle of dynamite.

He stiffened. Well, that changed everything.

“You saw someone put this in your boat?” he asked.

“Well, no,” she said. “But I saw someone in a mask on my boat while I was on the island with no name. They untied my vessel, and when I got to it, I had no radio, no way to start the engine, and I found that. So, I’d say someone wants me to go away. And what’s interesting about this is my dad’s boat had a fuel line issue when he went missing,” she said. “Feels like a strange omen.”

“Yeah, I read that.” He nodded. “Trip put in his report that it most likely happened when you ran aground. However, my secretary believes it might not have been a malfunction.”

“Because it wasn’t—just like today.” She took his hand and boarded his vessel. “And it’s not the only mishap I had today.”

He cocked his head.

“Someone shot down my drone.”

“Excuse me? As in with a bullet and a gun?”

“No. With their finger and air.” She raised her hand and pretended to shoot him. She blew on her index finger and shoved it in her pocket before winking.

He’d seen her sarcasm firsthand earlier. “I’ll need to look at that drone when we get back to the docks. I’ll text the mechanic we use for Everglades Overwatch to come to look at your boat tonight. I also need to take that dynamite and check it into evidence.” This soured his mood even more. Things like fuel pumps failing on old airboats happened, but drones being shot from the sky didn’t. And dynamite didn’t magically appear—especially not right after he’d made an arrest.

“No, and not necessary, but thank you.”

“Are you always this stubborn?” He shoved the spotlight in her hand and eased the airboat forward. It would be dark by the time they got back. His stomach growled. He hated going without a meal, and eating late only made his heartburn kick up. “I’m honestly not asking, and as the chief of police, I can’t ignore a crime.” He pointed to the explosives. “Especially when I might know where that came from.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “I arrested two men earlier today who had it loaded on their boat.”

“That can’t be a coincidence.”

“Probably not.” He arched a brow. “All the more reason for you to stop arguing with me and let me do my job.”

She kicked off her flip-flops and dared to put her pretty little feet on his console. “People in this town don’t want me here, and I think this is my warning.”

“All the more reason for me to investigate.” He blinked, staring at her cute pink-painted toes. He groaned. That was unexpected but a total turn-on and the last thing he needed to focus on while he towed her boat back to Mitchell’s Marina. He seriously had issues.

“Nothing for you to do.” She sighed.

“I beg to differ because you just told an officer?—”

“My God, you’re uptight.”

That he blamed on a lack of sex.

“I bet you’re Fletch’s work wife.”

Dawson frowned. He hated that phrase. It wasn’t just with Fletcher. All the guys considered him the work wife. Or the voice of reason. The one who raised his hand and reminded everyone of the dangers of whatever path they forged down. He’d been like that his entire life.

The buzzkill.

He was worse than Keaton.

Her eyebrows rose as she studied his expression. “Looks like I hit paydirt with that one.”

“Fletcher wouldn’t appreciate you calling me that or shortening his name.” Dawson kept his gaze forward and not on the sexy lady sitting way too close for comfort, reminding him that the last time he’d shared a bed with someone of the opposite sex had been six months ago.

While the experience had been decent enough, the morning after hadn’t gone well.

She’d been a blonde.

He thought he’d be safe. It turned out she was crazier than a one-eyed rattlesnake.

She wrinkled her nose. “What is up with that? I mean, I’ve only known Fletcher as Fletch. That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“I honestly don’t know. I’ve only known him as Fletcher.” Not true. However, not the point. “But ever since we came to Calusa Cove, he’s been correcting everyone.” Only Dawson knew why. While it might not make sense to most, it made perfect sense to Dawson, and he would respect his buddy’s wishes. Still, he wasn’t about to tell anyone why. The only people who knew were the team.

And Baily.

But it hadn’t changed Baily’s opinion—not yet, anyway. And Dawson hoped it did for Fletcher’s sake because that man was miserable.

“And you changed the direction of this conversation.” He waggled his finger under her nose. “You’ll let me look at the drone and your boat. You’re going to give me a description of the boat and the person who boarded your vessel. You’ll also give me the dynamite and let me do my job.”

“Well, I’m not letting you do it at the docks, and I want some information in return.” She folded her arms across her chest.

“What’s that?”

“The name of the men you arrested.”

“Eliot Commings and James Huber,” he said.

“Wow. You gave that up real quick.”

He shrugged. “It’ll be public record, so not a big deal. Now, I need you to follow through with your end of this agreement.”

She groaned. “It’s not that simple. You don’t know me or my relationship with this?—”

“I know enough. I’ve read the file and gotten an earful from at least one townsperson.” He turned, catching her gaze under the moonlight. “Come on. Besides, Fletcher’s my best friend. I’m the town’s chief of police. You didn’t think I wouldn’t know about one of the oldest cold cases in this town?”

“Well, I’m sure Ken gave you an earful of misguided and bullshit information, too,” she said under her breath.

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 a thud.

“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 pulled into 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.”

“Oh no.” The hostess covered her mouth. “You’re not going to make a scene, are ya? Should I call Paul?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Dawson said. “I just need to ask those two over there a few questions.” He waggled his fingers and then zigzagged through the crowd, knowing full well that the hostess was already texting with the owner. It didn’t matter. Dawson had a good feeling about how this was going to go down.

“Hello, James. Eliot.” Dawson pushed his way through a couple of men he didn’t know and didn’t care to know, but he took full note of what they looked like and were wearing.

Remy had pulled out his notebook and pen.

God bless that man.

“Jesus Christ,” Eliot said. “Small-town cops and their harassment. Should I call my lawyer?”

“Is Paul still representing you for what happened here?” Dawson asked, but he didn’t really care about the answer. “If you call him, or any other lawyer, we’ll have to take this down to the station. Do you really want to do that? Or do you want to answer my questions?”

“Fine. Fire away.” James waved his hand dismissively.

“Where were you today during the Python Challenge?” Dawson asked.

“I spent most of it in the cabin at your establishment,” Eliot said, “doing paperwork while James here met with a client down the road at Bowmen’s Marina.” He smiled as if he’d won the spelling bee.

Jerk.

“Does your client have a name? Mind if I have a little chat with him?” Dawson asked.

“I’m happy to give you his contact information, but sorry to say, he’s already left town, heading over to St. Augustine.” Eliot shrugged, then raised his beer to his lips.

“You can give my colleague here that information.” Dawson jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Now, how about you tell me how some of your dynamite landed in Audra McCain’s boat.”

Eliot set his beer a little too aggressively on the table. He wiped his lips. “First, I don’t know anyone by that name. Second, you have all my dynamite. If you don’t, someone took it from your possession. Not mine.”

Yeah, that’s about how Dawson had thought that would go. If not that direction, then he figured Eliot and James would accuse Audra of stealing it. Either way, they would play dumb.

For now, Dawson wouldn’t press that too hard.

“Do you two boys have any plans on leaving town?” Dawson asked.

“Are you suggesting we can’t?” James asked.

“Nope.” Dawson shook his head. “Not as long as you show up for your court date. But I’d still like to know as I have some concern about how this dynamite ended up on a participant’s boat.”

Both Eliot and James laughed.

“Seriously?” James shook his head. “I think it’s obvious. Audra? Was that her name?”

As if he didn’t actually know. But Dawson would let that one slide, too.

“She had to have stolen it,” James said. “Fucking incompetent small-town cops. Have to do their jobs for them, too.”

"We’ll be in touch,” Remy said with a stern voice that Dawson didn’t hear too often. He folded his notebook and shoved it in his pocket. “Watch how many you boys have of those tonight.” He waved his hand over the pitcher of beer. “I’d hate to have to give you a DUI…on top of the charges my chief here has already arrested you for.” Remy turned on his heel and took off toward the door—or more like marched.

Dawson was two steps behind him. He had to practically jog to keep up.

“Care to tell me what set you off back there?” he asked Remy once they were standing by his patrol car.

“Audra’s a lot of things. She’ll get in your face, especially when she believes she’s right. She doesn’t know how to back down from a fight, even when it’s for her own damn good. But one thing I do know about that wild young lady is that she’s always had an affection for this town. For the Everglades. For the history of it all. It’s a deep connection that she got from her grandmother, who was a member of the same Seminole tribe my grandparents are from.” Remy waved his hand over his head. “That red hair of hers makes her unique in our culture. Not a swamp monster. Not a witch. But someone grounded in earth and fire. A deep soulful connection that we revere.”

“Was that something that Audra was taught as a child?”

Remy stared at the sky and sighed. “Her mother was raised in the white man’s world. It wasn’t until she became pregnant with Audra that she returned to her Native American roots. Her pregnancy was hard. Audra was born early, and Victor had already begun to spiral into his mental illness.” Remy wiggled his finger. “And that’s what everyone in this town needs to remember. But we’re getting sidetracked.” Remy rubbed his jaw. “Elana, Audra’s mother, was sick for most of Audra’s early childhood. She did her best to teach Audra our ways. Our connection to the Everglades. What others see as witchcraft, we see as a way to honor what the gods and spirits have given us. But people like Paul perpetuate the concept that Victor was a crackpot, and Audra was a chip off the old block.” Remy laughed. “The older she got, the more she liked to use being called an Owl Witch to keep people away. But Audra would never steal dynamite. She would have no use for it. She knows how to use a gun. She’s probably a better shot than me, but she’d rather snag a rattler with her bare hands than kill the critter.”

“You sure took a long time to tell me that she respects the land more than the rest of us.”

“I wanted you to understand there was a bigger reason as to why.”

Dawson nodded. He’d been to Remy’s house for dinner and had experienced some of his native culture. Dawson loved nature. Valued it. He wanted to make sure it was there for centuries to come. But it wasn’t the same as Remy and his people’s love or connection to the land.

“I want someone watching those two men. If not you or one of our deputies, I want someone from my team,” Dawson said. “How do you feel about that, since bringing in anyone other than Fish and Wildlife goes against protocol?”

“Considering what happened to Audra out there today, I got no problem with it,” Remy said.

“All right. I’ll text everyone. Mind sitting here until they head back to my cabins?”

“Not at all. I’ll enjoy pulling them over for a breathalyzer.”

Dawson laughed. “Just make sure you have cause.” He opened his car door. Time to deal with the redhead.