Page 7

CHAPTER 6

Audra slowed her SUV to a snail’s pace as she drove down her old street. It wasn’t on the way to Harvey’s Cabins. No, it was two miles in the wrong direction, but she had to see it, even if nothing was there but a stupid vegetable stand.

Her childhood home—gone. Destroyed. Ken had told her that the Wheelers had leveled the old shack and used the property as a stand to sell all the things they grew on their land right next door. She knew when she’d sold them the house, they wouldn’t keep it. Why would they? The place had been barely inhabitable. It probably should have been condemned years before. Something was always broken. There were leaky pipes, the kitchen sink constantly dripped, and the water wasn’t drinkable.

Victor, this is no place to raise a child. You need to consider Audra. She needs a proper home. Proper clothes. A proper upbringing. It doesn’t take a lot of money, but you either need to do better or let someone else.

Silas’s words rattled in her mind. She’d been all of eight years old when she’d first heard him say them. The old pirate had come to pick on her dad, pushing him around to take what didn’t belong to him.

After her mother had died, she’d honestly worried someone would take her away. That someone would call child protective services and accuse her father of being an incompetent parent.

She’d always believed that a knock on the door would come because of Silas.

But it had never happened.

Her father hadn’t been a bad dad. He’d been loving and kind, always generous with his time. Food was always on the table, even if it was mostly mac and cheese, bologna sandwiches, or whatever fresh fish they caught. The only thing he’d been guilty of was a broken heart and having a mental illness.

She stared at the stand where the house used to be, and memories flooded her brain—both good and bad.

Christmas mornings had been a joyous time in her house. Presents hadn’t been the focus, even though there was always a stocking and one or two gifts. Her parents had done their best with what little they’d had. But the big breakfast, followed by a day out in the Everglades, had made that day so special.

It was that tradition that had started the whispers about her family being swamp monsters.

Talk about crazy. All they’d done was honor their ancestors, following the traditions of her mother’s Native American culture.

A car whizzed past. It was a big, shiny, fancy new SUV—an expensive kind.

She whipped a tear from her cheek. Ken had picked her up in a bright, fancy limo for prom. They’d shared it with Baily and Fletcher. What an epic night that had been.

How she’d wished her mom had been there to see her all dolled up in a dress. Her mother would have loved to see that. Audra had even worn high heels and makeup. She chuckled at the memory, but it was cut short as she remembered the day she’d watched her mom take her last breath.

She punched the gas and did a U-turn.

Too much pain. Too much sorrow. And this town brought it all back.

She passed the marina’s entrance and drove through the center of town. Massey’s Pub was lit up like the Fourth of July. Those hunters who hadn’t gone back out into the Everglades were hanging out, bragging about the snakes they’d caught—or exaggerating about the size of the ones that had gotten away.

She squinted and eased her foot off the gas, staring at the two men Dawson had arrested for bring dynamite to the python hunt. “What the hell are those two still doing in town?” she whispered. “And with Benson.” She really needed to stop talking to herself. But seriously, that was a weird trio. One that didn’t make sense.

One of the city boys turned his head, and she swore he smiled at her, but that was impossible. She was across the street and hidden behind tinted windows.

She took the turn at the light. Harvey’s Cabins was the next left. Harvey always had an opening. The cabins weren’t much to write home about. They were small one-room suites with a bed, a sofa, a TV, a table with two chairs, and a small kitchenette. They were clean- ish .

She knew this because, as a teenager, she had been the one cleaning the rooms, and sometimes, she’d worked behind the desk. Now, Harvey had stepped up his game and gone to self-check-ins after ten. Well, she was going to get there just before that, so it would be nice to see the old man. He had been mostly kind to her and her dad. She wouldn’t call him a friend, but Harvey didn’t bother much with gossip.

Of course, Lilly could still be working there, and that would be awkward, like most of their encounters.

Pulling into the parking lot, her jaw dropped. Damn, this place had changed. Most of the cabins looked as though they’d gotten a facelift or were getting one.

She parked in front of the trailer, snagged her small purse, and made a beeline for the door. It was still sticky as hell. But it was summer, and in Florida in August, you could fry an egg on the sidewalk.

The door opened, and Audra’s heart dropped to her toes.

Lilly.

“Oh. Hello, Audra,” Lilly said, waving an envelope. “I was just leaving this for you in the overnight box.”

Audra checked her watch. Fifteen minutes before ten. Yeah, that sounded about right for Lilly, especially if Harvey wasn’t around. In the past, she’d always come in late, left early, and made other people do the work she hadn’t wanted to do.

“Since you’re here, I’ll just hand it to you.” Lilly stretched out her hand. “There have been a few changes around this place and few new rules since Harvey passed.”

“Harvey died?” Damn, that sucked. “What happened?”

“Heart attack. Just dropped dead about six months ago. His wife didn’t want to deal with this place, so she sold it.”

“To you?”

Lilly laughed. “No. My husband and I don’t really have the funds or the time. Our new chief of police is the proud owner. I’m his manager—the eyes and ears of this place.” Lilly pointed toward the street. “Here comes our chief now.”

“And he puts up with you leaving early?” Audra wanted to ask who in their right mind would marry Lilly, but she decided to refrain.

“Wow, you haven’t changed.” Lilly folded her hands and tapped her toe on the wood porch.

Okay, so maybe that was a bitch move, but she and Lilly had never liked each other. Ever. Mostly because Lilly had had a thing for Ken. Lilly had been a grade ahead of Ken but the same age. She’d always run around bragging about how she’d skipped a grade and was planning on getting a scholarship to an Ivy League school so she could get the hell out of Calusa Cove.

Well, that had never happened, and she’d landed in community college forty minutes away. But Audra never knew what had happened after that because she’d left.

Dawson’s patrol car rolled to a stop, and he slipped from the driver’s side. God, that man was sexy, especially in his uniform. He had a five o’clock shadow that gave him this rugged look. He wasn’t too tall, perhaps six foot one or two, and he was thick. Not so much that he looked like a bodybuilder, but enough bulk that no one would dare mess with him if they came across him in a dark alley.

“Lilly, what on earth are you still doing here? I told you it was fine to go home whenever you needed. That’s what self-check-in is for,” he said.

Lilly smiled.

Audra sighed. More like her hormones melted.

“Hondo’s flight was delayed. He should be rolling in about twenty minutes from now,” Lilly said.

“What about the kids?” Dawson leaned against the post.

“My mom took them out for burgers and putt-putt golf,” Lilly said. “I did hire someone for the evening shift. He starts on Monday. So, I’ll be going back to my regular hours.”

“Good.” Dawson nodded.

“Before I forget,” Lilly said. “Those two guys in cabin three have not checked out.”

“Yeah. I noticed that in the app.” Dawson nodded. “Nothing we can do about it.”

“Should I be worried?” Lilly asked.

“I don’t think so, but I’ve got my guys keeping an eye on them. If you see anything that makes you uncomfortable, call me or one of my deputies.”

“Will do. I better get going,” Lilly said.

“Have a nice night.” Dawson squeezed her shoulder.

“See you around.” Lilly waved, then stole a glance at Audra. “Enjoy the cabin. We put you in number nine. It’s completely renovated. You’re going to love it.”

“Thanks.” Audra blinked a few times. “But wait a second,” she said. “You and Hondo? Kids?” It wasn’t that Audra couldn’t see Hondo married with a couple of little ones running around. It was just that it was a struggle for Audra to believe that Hondo would marry anyone from Calusa Cove. He was one of those men who not only wanted out of this small town, but he had big plans. The kind of plans that didn’t include someone like Lilly.

“Don’t look so surprised.” Lilly breezed past Audra, took the two steps off the porch, and turned. “Life around here might be mostly the same, but some of us change. If you need anything, I’ll be here in the morning. Just stop by the office. I’m happy to help.” With a strange spring in her step, Lilly strolled into the parking lot and got into a…minivan?

Damn.

“Grab your drone and follow me,” Dawson said with a strained voice she hadn’t heard before.

Not that she knew the man at all, but in the few hours she’d spent with him, he’d either been sarcastic—in a good way—or laid-back and calm.

This was not that.

“Where are we going?” she asked, trying not to give him the once-over, but that proved impossible. He filled out that uniform way too nicely.

“My place.” He pointed to one of the cabins off to the side. “It’s been a long day. I need to change out of my uniform, and I want to examine that drone. So, let’s get a move on.”

“You’re being aggressive.”

“Sorry. I get ornery when I don’t eat. I ordered takeout for both of us from Massey’s. Burgers and onion rings. Should be here in twenty. Now, please.” He waved his hand out in front.

“Onion rings?” She made her way back to her vehicle, popped the trunk, and pulled out the drone case.

“Yeah. Fletcher might’ve mentioned those were your favorite.” Dawson chuckled. “I also got you extra pickles and made sure they put five times the amount of special sauce on the burger, which is just gross. You know that sauce is just ketchup, mayo, and hot sauce, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s so flipping good.” She flung the case over her shoulder. “You live in one of the cabins? What about Harvey’s old house? Who bought that?”

“I did, and before you go asking what everyone else does, it’s being renovated, and no, I’m not going to live in it. And I don’t know what I’m going to do with it when it’s done. Maybe I’ll make it into a bed and breakfast or sell it. We’ll see.”

“What are you? Mr. Moneybags?” She followed behind him, watching his thigh—and ass muscles—flex with each step.

He chuckled. “No. But I have no family. No parents. No siblings. No wife or kids. When I first joined the Navy, I was in the Military Police, so I didn’t have a lot of friends.” He chuckled. “I lived on base, and for the first few years, in the barracks. When I moved off base before I became a SEAL, I lived with Keaton, Hayes, and Fletcher. The rent was dirt cheap.”

“What about Ken?”

Dawson glanced over his shoulder. “He was married, and his wife was pregnant.”

“Oh. Yeah.” She’d never forget the day she’d learned that piece of news. He’d married a schoolteacher—a nice young girl from a good, normal family.

“Anyway, once we became SEALs, renting a big house seemed stupid. We were all deployed more than we were Stateside. So, back to the base we went. Well, all except Ken. The guys hated it. But I never minded. I don’t need much—a bed to sleep in, a stove to cook my food on….”

“I get it. But that doesn’t explain how you could afford to buy this place, the house, and start an airboat touring business.” She stared at the front porch of the cabin, which used to be cabin number one, but now the sign that hung on one of the posts on the railing read: Watchdog .

That was cliché.

“I invested most of my paycheck.” He shrugged. “And I took out a business loan. I happen to be good with numbers.” He tapped his temple. “It’s both a blessing and curse.”

“Not sure how that could be a curse,” she mumbled.

“I drive people nuts because, if the numbers don’t line up, I have to know why.” He tapped his fingers on the keypad of his cabin. “I’m always balancing the budget at the station and looking over the books with Everglades Overwatch, and while Lilly is amazing at keeping an eye on things for me here, she constantly tells me I’m micromanaging her when it comes to bookkeeping.”

“Not to be a gossip, but the Lilly I remember was a lazy worker, and all Harvey ever did was complain about her.”

“I’ve never known her to be like that. She’s a great manager. She does all the hiring but leaves the firing to me, which I get. I’ve only had to do it once.” He pushed open the door and waved her in. “But she’s told me what she used to be like, and Hondo has made many jokes about it.”

“Still can’t believe those two got married or that Hondo came back here after college. He had big plans. What on earth is he doing for a living?” She stepped into the cabin, and her breath caught in her lungs. This was not what she remembered. It still wasn’t a five-star hotel, but it had all-new furniture that actually looked comfortable.

The sofa was leather—and appeared to be real, not that fake stuff. The table by the kitchenette sat four, not two. And the chairs were wooden, not metal.

The bed had a nice wooden headboard, and the pictures on the walls—well, she suspected these weren’t hanging in other cabins because they were images of him and his team.

She set her bag on the coffee table and inched into the room. All the appliances were brand new. This guy must have spent a small fortune if he’d done this to the rest of the cabins.

“He works for a small private airline as a pilot out of Naples. It’s not a bad gig. He flies mostly rich corporate assholes. Occasionally, he gets government officials and a handful of movie stars and television personalities. Makes good money. I’m not sure why Lilly keeps working for me, but I’m damn grateful she does.” He unclipped his weapon, discharged the chamber, and put it in a lockbox. “Give me five minutes to change.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a shirt. Then he went to the closet and snagged a pair of jeans. “There’s beer in the fridge if you’d like one. Or I’ve got liquor in the cabinet—no wine, if you’re into that—but I can go back to the trailer. We keep small bottles of cheap stuff. I can get you some.”

“Beer’s fine.”

He disappeared into the bathroom.

Damn, that man could talk when he got going.

She ran her fingers along the bed's footboard, ignoring the heat that filled her veins. Men generally didn’t affect her on a primal level, but Dawson did a number on her mind, body, and everything in between.

She pressed her hand on the mattress. It wasn’t too soft, but she wouldn’t say it was hard. Actually, it was damn perfect. She hoped the bed in her cabin was just as nice. Making her way into the kitchen, she opened the fridge. “Jeez.” It was fully stocked with fruits, veggies, eggs, fixings for a salad, and other healthy foods. She pulled out two longnecks, cracking them both open, before climbing up on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, which hadn’t been a feature in the older version of this place.

She took a long swig of the cold brew. The bubbles tickled her throat. Snagging her phone from her back pocket, she loaded the video from the drone. She’d watched it five times. Had she not been so nervous about being shot, she would have explored that island more because right before the damn thing got blown from the sky, the drone had caught a glimpse of something.

Only, she couldn’t make out what it was—just that there were some wood scraps in the clearing. She tapped her notes app and found the one where she had the CliffsNotes version of all her thoughts regarding her father’s disappearance—his death.

She rubbed her temple.

For years, all she remembered about that night was how her father had been adamant that the Everglades were being used to smuggle something in and out. That someone was back there moving either drugs or guns, or both, through Calusa Cove, and he was going to prove it. She’d seen the shack. The crates. And then the world went black.

That’s what she thought she’d remembered.

But she’d also had this dream where she blinked open her eyes, and someone pushed her father overboard. That she screamed and reached over the side of the boat to save him, but it was too late.

Not only did his body disappear into the murky water, but someone tossed in gator chum. Bubbles appeared. Then tails kicked up.

And then a sharp pain filled her skull, and once again, the world went black.

However, that had been her nightmare. She’d had it for six months nearly every night after her dad had disappeared. She’d wake up in a cold sweat. Eventually, it had gone away, and she’d done her best to forget.

And she’d never told anyone about the dream—except Ken and Trip.

Ken had told her it was a dream, that it wasn’t real.

Trip had told her to keep those thoughts to herself because no one would believe her—they would twist it into thinking she was the one who’d pushed her father overboard.

That’s what had happened anyway.

Her dad had considered alligators to be his friends. Most people believed him to be a gator whisperer. If he could have had one as an emotional support animal, he would have. He had been one of the few people who could get close to a big one. He could touch one, and it wouldn’t do anything other than maybe scurry away. He had been the guy people called when gators got in their pools—or got too close for comfort. Hell, even animal control would call him for help.

So, to be taken out by one… That haunted her in so many ways.

However, when she’d seen that silhouette standing on her boat, that nightmare had snapped back into place. No blurry motion. No foggy imagery.

It was fucking real. As real as her red hair. Someone had pushed her father into the water, and she’d seen it with her own eyes.

Knock. Knock.

She jumped, falling off the stool. Luckily, she landed on her feet. She strolled to the front of the cabin. She glanced out the curtain.

Delivery boy.

She opened the door.

“I’ve got an order for the chief,” the young man said.

“What does he owe you?”

“Already paid,” the kid said. “Tip taken care of, too.” He handed her the bag. “Tell the chief I said thanks.”

“Will do.”

The smell of crunchy fried onion rings filled her nostrils. No one made better fried foods than Massey’s. She should boycott the damn place, considering the way Paul had treated her earlier, but her stomach growled like a grizzly. However, there weren’t many options in this town—a greasy spoon, a place down by the marina that did mostly fresh-caught fish and chips, and another restaurant heading out of town, but their food tasted like cardboard on a good day.

The door to the bathroom opened, and steam poured out, carrying with it the fresh scent of pine, musk, and…she wasn’t sure. A spice of some kind. Whatever it was, it sent her hormones into overdrive.

Wonderful. She was attracted to the wrong kind of men. Even Ken, for as much as she’d believed she’d loved him—and he’d claimed to have loved her—had wanted her to change. He’d wanted her to be less her father’s daughter and more like a normal girl.

Whatever that meant. And it wasn’t ever going to happen.

Their breakup hadn’t been just about what happened that night. It was more complex than that, and their problems had started before her father disappeared.

“You took a shower?” She set the bag on the counter.

“Trust me, I needed it. Not only did I smell like swamp, but if I didn’t, I would’ve been a bigger asshole than I have been.” He pulled out two plates from the cupboard, a couple of napkins, and two knives.

What the hell did she need utensils for?

He sat down beside her at the breakfast counter and went about pulling out his burger. The weirdo cut it in half.

“What are you doing?” She stared at him.

“Eating.” He lifted half his bacon cheeseburger, which didn’t appear to have any secret sauce, only mustard, and took a bite. It wasn’t even a big bite.

“That’s a dumb way to enjoy a burger.” She lifted hers and brought it to her mouth. A massive amount of sauce landed on her bare thigh. Before she could wipe it off with her finger, he snagged a napkin and cleaned it up. “Hey, that was wasteful.” Not that she minded feeling his hands across her leg.

He laughed and continued to munch on his food like a dainty human.

Of course, her co-workers back at the magazine thought she was a slob, which was kind of true, at least when it came to food. “I once took an assignment up in Western, New York.”

“Really?” He jerked his head. “What kind of wildlife were you focusing on there?”

“Birds. American bitterns, Northern harrier hawks, owls, mallards, and blue-winged teal. I also saw a couple of bald eagles in my travels. Got some great images of woodchucks, beavers, and muskrats. But that’s not where I was going with this conversation.” She waved an onion ring. “Rochester isn’t known for much. Kodak, which is basically gone. Cold weather. Snow. And the grossest beer known to man.”

“Genesee Cream Ale.” He lifted his longneck. “Disgusting.”

“Can’t imagine why anyone would want to drink that pisswater. But the one thing that Rochester does well is the?—”

“Garbage plate.” He lowered his chin. “I’m from Rochester. I grew up on those things. It’s kind of the best drunk food ever.” He leaned closer. “Not that I got drunk underage or anything.”

“Now, how can you enjoy a good garbage plate and not eat a cheeseburger with Massey’s special sauce?” She waved her hand over his plate. “And you cut yours in half. What the heck is that all about?”

“I have severe heartburn.” He plopped the last bite in his mouth. “If I don’t slow down the way I eat, especially when I treat myself to fried foods and stuff that stirs up my GERD, I’ll be up all night, in pain, cussing myself out.”

“Is that why there’s all that healthy shit in that fridge?”

He shrugged. “My nana was always worried if I didn’t get killed by a bullet, my diet would get me. So, I promised her before she died that I’d do my best not to let either one happen.”

She wiped her fingers on her napkin. “I have no idea what to think of you.”

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual. Now, break out that drone. I want to look at it and any pictures or video you took.”

She gave him a mock glare. “You’re bossy, too.”

“I’ve been told that before,” he said, jumping from the stool, wagging his long finger under her nose. “I also need to ask you a question about Paul Massey’s son.”

“What about him?”

“For starters, why would he accuse you of slashing his tire today?”

She jerked her head back. “While I might have done that when I was ten, right after my mom died because he called my father a crazy lunatic, I certainly wouldn’t do that today. Not even if he got in my face, but I can’t explain why he’d say I did that. I haven’t even seen him up close and personal to say hello. Only from a distance. And the last time we spoke to one another was about the time my dad disappeared.”

“That’s a lot for me to unpack,” Dawson said. “Hard for me to believe you’d have the balls to slash a tire at ten.”

“He said some pretty nasty things to my dad. It was cruel, and it happened right after my mom passed. Benson had no idea I was there, and I was too young and stupid, so I got caught,” she said. “Trip read me the riot act, but what was he going to do? Throw the book at a kid who was barely in the double digits?”

“I suppose nothing,” he said, helping her off the stool and guiding her across the room like a real gentleman.

She wasn’t used to that kind of treatment. She opened the case and handed him the damaged drone. “See that?” She pointed.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Looks like a bullet hole to me.” He narrowed his stare. “I want to bring this to the office in the morning and examine it more closely.”

“I guess I’ll let you do that,” she said. “Here.” She pulled up the video and shoved her cell in his face. She shouldn’t trust him. He lived in Calusa Cove, and everyone who did was against her. Believed the worst—as proven by Benson’s accusation. But everything about Dawson seemed different. He listened. He didn’t shove her thoughts and opinions to the side. No. He treated her with respect.

Much like Trip had.

“Look at the last frame of the video. You can see wood scattered on the ground.” She tapped at the screen.

He brought it closer. “I don’t know. It’s awfully fuzzy. Could be anything.”

“Seriously, that’s all you got?” Her pulse froze in her throat. “Look again.”

“I am looking, and while it could be what you say, this video doesn’t prove anything.”

She should have known. “You’re just like everyone else.” She gathered her things, shoved them back in the case, and headed for the door. She didn’t need his help. She didn’t need anyone. She’d figure this out all on her own. She’d go back out there tomorrow…if she ever got her boat fixed.

And she’d go visit Trevor in prison.

She’d make him own what he’d done, and he’d rot there for the rest of his pathetic life.