Page 58 of Wild Oblivion

Paris Delaney and her crew tried to get as close as possible. I knew she was angling for interviews with the survivors.

Brenda and her crew entered the store, and forensic investigators chronicled the scene.

Ashton didn’t shy away from the opportunity to be on camera. He told Paris, “It was terrifying. I was just trying to buy an engagement ring for my girlfriend when these jackasses came in. Can I say jackasses? Or will you edit that out?”

“We’re live.”

“Oh.”

“Were you afraid?”

“Well, you know,” he said, trying to sound tough. “We’ve all gotta die sometime. But not today.” He flashed his pearly whites.

“I hope your girlfriend says yes after all the trouble you’ve been through.”

“She’d be a fool not to. I’m a good catch, if I do say so myself,” he said with a smarmy grin.

“You’ll have a heck of a story to tell your grandkids.”

30

At the station, I filled out after-action reports in the conference room. I tapped away on a tablet under the harsh fluorescent light.

My phone buzzed with a call from Giselle. "Hey, how's it going?"

"All things considered, it's going pretty well."

"How's grandpa? He's not giving you any trouble, is he?"

"Oh, no. Not at all. A model citizen."

"Good. He can get a little ornery at times.”

"He's been a delight," I said, neglecting to mention his escapades with the two beauties last night.

"I've been trying to get in touch with him, but he’s not returning my calls. I just got back in town. I thought I'd stop by the boat and say hello.”

"I'm at the station right now, doing some paperwork. But Jack's at the boat with him. Stop by any time.”

“Okey-dokey. I will."

I ended the call, and the sheriff poked his head into the conference room. "You got a minute?"

I nodded. "Just finishing up."

"I thought we'd have lunch and talk about a few things.”

I gave him a curious look but didn't push it. Daniels wasn't one to just have casual conversations.

I finished typing in the report, then we left and headed up to Oyster Avenue to grab something to eat. The sheriff wanted to go to Bob’s Bait Shack, and that was fine by me.

A cute hostess sat us at a table on the outdoor patio. It was a nice afternoon. The Florida sun beamed bright overhead, and a cool breeze drifted across the deck.

We perused the menus, and the sheriff ordered the Bob’s Barbecue Burger, and I went with the mushroom cheeseburger. We split an oversized basket of sweet potato fries.

The place was packed for lunch, as usual. You could get everything from fried seafood to burgers, sandwiches, and wraps.

Our burgers arrived, and we chowed down. The whole time, I waited for the sheriff to get to the point. Possibilities swirled in my mind.