Page 45 of The Summer We Made Promises (The Destin Diaries #3)

“Good? He was a stinking hero. He put his life on the line, arranged to get Cotton the ‘money,’ and set up a sting that led me directly to that son of a…bad man. Because Artie was willing to be wired and risk his life, we took the entire Dixie Mafia down.”

“He…did that?” She tried to imagine that Cornell ethics professor with a goofy sense of humor and a mean fishing rod getting wired and endangering his life…for Roger. For all of them.

“And he did it with style and fearlessness,” he added as if he read her mind.

“We couldn’t have gotten to Cotton without Artie.

Roger, too. He helped set it up from prison, telling Cotton that his friend had the money.

The two of them were…brave. And they did it all to protect you and Mrs. Wylie, along with all your kids.

Oh, and the couple that owned the deli.”

“Frank and Betty?”

“A low-level bookie, but Roger insisted he had immunity, so we left Frank alone, and he was none the wiser.”

Her whole body felt like it might just melt into a puddle.

“They had a price, of course,” he said. “For Artie, it was protection for both families until it was all over. We had round-the-clock surveillance on you and your little one in that apartment where you lived, plus your kids at college, and all the Wylies up in New York.”

Her jaw loosened. Round-the-clock protection? And she never knew?

“Roger’s price was, well, of course, a shortened sentence.

That’s just a normal plea bargain. But since everything he had went to the government, he insisted this property be safe, put in your name, and could never be taken away.

We worked out a deal with his attorney, who then ran this as a nice little rental business for you. ”

She thought of John Waverly, the lawyer who’d helped her, and made her think he was brilliant for finding a way for her to keep the house. All the while…

James glanced around and chuckled. “Then we made up that whole ‘you can sell the house in thirty years’ thing because that attorney died and it was too complicated to bring in a new guy. We planted that ‘loophole’ for him to find. Anyway, it’s yours.

And you can sell it, or keep it. Whatever.

Roger set you and your kids up for life.

” He nodded, looking impressed. “Very shrewd deal on his end, I would say.”

She tried to agree, but the cascade of love and pride and gratitude made it impossible to speak.

“’Course, it sure wasn’t the plan for him to die in jail,” James added solemnly. “Roger was scheduled to be sprung on January first. He passed, as you know, in November.”

“Oh.” The sound escaped her lips like a groan of true pain.

So close. They’d been so close to freedom and happiness.

Suddenly, she was glad she didn’t know that all these years—grateful she hadn’t had three decades to stew over the fact that if he’d lived six more weeks, they could have shared another night and maybe more.

“’Course, during his time in prison, we didn’t want any contact between the families,” James said. “No connection that could lead Cotton to you or the Wylies.”

She pressed her fingers to her lips, that decades-old promise finally, finally making sense. “So both men made Jo Ellen and me promise to never speak to each other.”

He nodded. “Not until Roger was out of prison and Cotton was in. I gotta say the real savior in all this was Artie Wylie,” he told her.

“He put his life on the line for this case. More than any decorated FBI agent, if I’m being frank.

He knew what mattered, and it wasn’t getting Roger out early.

It was the kids. You, his wife, his daughters, and your kids.

That’s all that mattered to Artie. He was willing to risk his life to make sure Cotton Ramsey didn’t lay a hand on any of you.

Because, trust me, that evil rat would have happily killed you all in your sleep to get back at Roger. ”

She stared at him in horror. “Is he and are his men…gone?” she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Oh, yeah. All gone. No worries there. And I’m long retired.” He ran his hand through his hair as if every white strand was a result of his lifetime of work.

“Then I heard through the grapevine that this Peter McCarthy was sniffing around,” he continued. “So, I took a chance coming here, hoping that you might have found the one thing we need to completely close the case.”

“The dry cleaning stub,” she guessed.

He nodded. “You got it?”

Maggie hesitated, then sat up and reached into her pocket, pulling out the ticket. “We discovered it in a safe deposit box in Destin,” she said. “It says it’s for a suit.”

“It is. That cleaner was a front for the FBI, though, not a starch and fold. And I know why Artie kept this stub.” He flipped it a few times, smiling. “Proof if he ever needed it.”

“How so?” she asked.

He pointed to the faint six-digit number printed along the bottom. “This,” he said, voice softer now, “is the retrieval code to the evidence locker where we stored the wired suit Artie wore the night we got Cotton.”

Her breath caught.

“That wire has Cotton’s confession, the threats to your family, even a list of offshore accounts he used for laundering. It’s all on that recording. And the only copy—outside the one I filed under sealed evidence—was tagged to this.”

“No wonder it had been stashed in a safe deposit box,” Maggie said.

“Yup.” He flicked the stub with his finger. “This was Artie’s insurance policy. If anyone in Cotton’s family or circle ever came after him, he’d have this, even if everyone who worked on the case died. Especially since Roger was gone and he had no one to back up his story.”

Maggie curled her fingers around the arms of the chair, letting it all sink in.

“I assure you that won’t happen,” he said. “But I want to retrieve the recording. Decommission the locker. Close the last file on my desk that still has his name on it. And give you the ending Artie and your husband never got.”

She blinked hard, her voice barely audible. “You really mean it? They were…heroes?”

“Not perfect men,” James said, “but they loved their families and wanted to protect them.”

Maggie cast her eyes down as the weight of thirty years lifted. All the churning inside her stopped, replaced by peace and…understanding.

He stood and pocketed the stub. “Thank you, Mrs. Lawson. And would you thank Mrs. Wylie for me? Your husbands both played a part in ending a dark chapter in Biloxi’s history. We’re grateful.”

“I’ll tell her. In fact, I’d like to tell her now, if we’re done.”

“We sure are.” He put the ballcap back on and nodded. “Have a good day, ma’am.”

“I’m about to,” she assured him.

As long as they could make room on that boat for one more person who wanted to celebrate Artie Wylie, she would have a very good day indeed.

The short run across the street and to the marina was, well, not short. Not for a desperate seventy-eight-year-old woman. Would she give herself a heart attack and a stroke trying to get to the Celebration of Life before they took off?

Yes, if she had to, she would. Artie would have!

Old Artie, the unexpected, unsung Superman who’d protected two families, helped take down a criminal ring, and saved the evidence for the future. And Roger, who’d used his negotiation to secure that very property he’d told her she could “squirrel away.”

And squirrel she did—with the help of James Hill, who she hadn’t even known existed.

She fumbled with the latch to the marina gate, her hands trembling as they had been since the moment she’d met that retired FBI agent.

The one who said her husband was in heaven! Along with Artie, who she’d hated all these years for no good reason.

Panting, she hustled toward the marina shack with absolutely no idea where Tessa kept her boat.

“Did they leave?” she called to the young man behind a screen. “The Artie…thing? Tessa Wylie and everyone? Where are they?”

He peered past her down a long dock. “They’re just getting underway but you might be able to call them back if they see you. Head down that way.”

She took off, bolting over the weathered wood in the most unladylike, unMaggielike way she’d ever run.

The boat was well on the way out of the marina, rumbling toward the harbor with a noisy engine and no one looking back to the dock they’d left behind.

“Jo! Jo Ellen Wylie!” She yelled—actually shrieked like a fishwife—and waved her hands wildly and jumped up and down. “Don’t leave without me!”

No one even looked.

“Jo Ellen! Wait for me!”

But Jo sat in the seat next to Tessa, who was driving, her arms wrapped around her box of Artie. All of the benches and seating were filled her family and friends yucking it up in the sunshine.

Didn’t they hear her?

“Hey! Stop!” she screamed again. “I want to come with you! Stop!”

It was Roman who turned from his seat on the stern, flipping up his sunglasses, then saying something to Lacey. She whipped around, cried out in surprise, and finally Maggie had all their attention.

Every single one of them turned and stared like the apostles watching Jesus walk on water. And at that moment, Maggie might have tried it to get to that boat.

Jo Ellen shot up, clutching her precious cargo, and Tessa cut the engine to silence.

Maggie pressed a hand to her chest, trying to calm her heart, but it felt like it would beat out of her ribcage. Breathless, speechless, she stared back at them realizing she had no idea what to say.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Vivien yelled, standing, her concern visible from here.

“I want to come! I have to come! Please tell me there’s room!”

“We’ll make room!” Jo Ellen called out. “I’m so happy!”

She was about to be, Maggie thought as the motor rumbled to life again. Tessa made a wide turn—rather effortlessly, too. She’d underestimated that girl, who’d never once wavered in her belief that her father was a great man.

She’d been right. They all had been—everyone but Maggie, who’d clung to her grudge and her promise and her false beliefs that she’d been wronged.

She hadn’t been wronged. She’d been…protected.

“I knew you’d want to be here!” Jo Ellen shot forward before the boat reached the dock, her legs almost buckling as it rolled in the water. “Oh, my God!” she squealed as the shoebox-sized container slipped from her hand.

In a blur, Roman vaulted forward, diving down to catch the box as everyone on board let out a shout.

“Intercepted!” He straightened and gracefully raised the box overhead, holding tight to what was left of Artie.

Dear, dear Artie.

As the entire crew cheered his catch, Jo Ellen put her hands over her mouth, looking like she didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or cry.

The boat rumbled closer and Tessa docked, then turned off the engine.

Vivien scrambled out before anyone else, reaching for Maggie. “Is everything all right, Mom?”

“It’s going to be. I have to say three words I rarely use—I was wrong.”

“Oh, yes!” Jo Ellen hooted. “It’s fine, really, everyone?—”

“No, no. I was really wrong,” she insisted, still winded. “So, so wrong.”

She looked at Eli, Kate, and old Seamus on the bow, and the two teenagers who didn’t really know just how out of character this was for Maggie.

Tessa lowered her sunglasses as if she had to get a better look at this new and terribly frazzled version of Maggie.

Vivien slid a supportive arm around Maggie. “What happened?” she asked softly.

“A man came to see me,” she managed to say. “And he told me…everything. Jo…oh, my sweet Jo…”

She held her arms out, and Eli helped Jo Ellen climb out of the boat to get to Maggie.

“Who? What man? Maggie, what is going on?”

Maggie squeezed her, all her pent-up joy making her nearly lift her friend in the air.

“He was a hero!” she exclaimed. “Artie saved our lives and Roger saved that house and they only made us promise to stay apart to protect us.”

As Jo Ellen let out a cry of disbelief, the others bombarded Maggie with questions. Who, what, when, how…

She ignored them. She’d tell them everything, eventually. But now, she just wanted to toss off the past, let go of the pain, and finally, finally break the promise she’d made to Roger.

She wrapped her best friend in the longest, tightest, most loving hug she could muster, pressing a long overdue kiss on Jo Ellen’s precious cheek.

Of course, Jo Ellen didn’t ask questions or demand an explanation or look sideways and say, “I told you so!”

She didn’t because she was as pure a soul that ever lived, that dear, optimistic out-of-state Yankee who’d showed up in Maggie’s dorm room a lifetime ago.

There, as the sun poured over them and the questions finally stopped, Maggie and Jo Ellen stood on the dock and held each other like the soul sisters they’d always been.

“I love you, Jo,” Maggie whispered to her friend. “And I’m sorry it took so long to say that.”

Jo Ellen drew back, her eyes filled with tears. “I know that,” she said. “And I love you, too, Mags.”

“Come on.” Maggie slid her arm around Jo’s waist. “Let’s give Artie the proper send-off he deserves. And while we do…” She turned and addressed all the shocked friends and family who watched. “I’m going to tell you a story of how Artie Wylie saved all of our lives.”

A cheer went up while Jo Ellen and Maggie gingerly boarded the boat, still clinging to each other, both crying, sharing one seat, squished together.

Finally, after thirty years, all was right with their world.