Chapter 10
The parking lot behind Massey’s Pub was quiet, except for the low hum of the refrigeration units and the occasional call of a night heron overhead.
Fletcher stood next to Dawson’s unmarked SUV, arms folded across his chest as he leaned back against the bumper.
A cold front had pushed down from the north, putting a chill in the warm Florida air.
Fletcher welcomed cooler temperatures. He’d never minded the heat, but it was always nice to get a reprieve.
“How’s Baily?” Dawson asked as he stared at the pub, gaze fixed on…something.
“She’s hanging in there,” Fletcher said. “She’s tougher than she gives herself credit for, but all this with Julie, the marina, Ken… It’s wearing on her.”
Dawson nodded, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Audra says she’s barely sleeping. That she jumps at shadows now, but that she does so with fists at the ready. We need to get ahead of this before something else pushes her over the edge and she reacts with vengeance.”
“Baily has never had much of a temper. Not like the short fuse her brother often had. But when she snaps, she goes off like a rocket.”
“That’s what I want to avoid. I’ve seen that in my wife, and we both know what it’s like to be backed into a corner.”
Fletcher’s jaw ticked. “I’m guessing Baily and Audra won’t find anything useful in Baily’s apartment.”
Dawson nodded. “I’d say whoever ransacked that place found what they were looking for, or they’ll be back, and the latter part of that statement scares me, especially because we haven’t a clue as to what they’re looking for.”
“My folks died a few months after Baily’s dad,” Fletcher said.
“We were deployed. My folks never had the chance to hand off that notebook that Ray left for me. It makes me wonder if there might be something else hidden somewhere in my house.” He arched a brow.
“I’ve never really gone through the house.
There are boxes and crap everywhere. Baily has been bugging me for months to clear the place out.
I think it’s time I do that. Maybe we’ll find something. ”
“Have you gone through all the nooks and crannies of the marina?”
“We have,” Fletcher said. “But it can’t hurt to do it again. Baily has inventory in the back room, so I’ll go through all of that.”
“Good.” Dawson shifted his weight. “We’re missing a big piece of this puzzle. Like we’re sitting on something that could blow the lid off this, but we don’t know what rock to overturn to find it.”
“Needle in a haystack,” Fletcher mumbled. “Did Decker give you any indication of what he wanted?”
“Nope.” Dawson shook his head. “All he said was that he needed to meet. That he had something important to discuss, and it couldn’t wait. His voice sounded strained. It cracked at times. But I had no facial cues to help me understand what that might have been all about.”
“I don’t trust this guy. He could be fishing for information about our plans.”
Dawson nodded. “That thought did cross my mind, but why call the cop? Why ask for a meeting with the guy who makes a living asking questions and solving riddles? Why not Keaton or Hayes? Or even you?”
“He’d never call me for that. We’re too combative with each other,” Fletcher said.
“True, but I make even less sense. Hayes would be the one I’d call if I were in Decker’s shoes.
” Dawson widened his stance and looped his fingers into his belt—typical of Dawson, even out of uniform.
He’d taken to being a police officer like he’d been born wearing a badge.
“Hayes has that cool, laid-back vibe that screams boy next door. He’s all warm and inviting.
People instinctively trust him and…” Dawson’s let the words tail off as he stared up at the sky.
“When we were captured, he was the first one they tried to break. They went at him hard. For hours. His cell was right next to mine, and I heard it.” He rubbed both hands over his face as if to try to erase the memories.
“I don’t know what made them shift their attention to Ken. ”
“We’ll never know,” Fletcher said softly.
“That mission was fucked before it started. We all knew it. Ken was freaking out long before we jumped from that chopper and had boots on the ground. He told me he hadn’t signed the re-enlistment papers and that he had no intention of doing so.
That he was done. That his life was with Julie, the boys, and working for her family’s business.
He couldn’t wait to get out. He was gleeful about it. ”
“Had that mission not ended the way it did, would you have still re-enlisted?” Dawson asked. That was the one thing no one ever really talked about because it hadn’t really mattered. What was done was done. That mission had destroyed them both emotionally and physically.
Hayes's shoulder probably couldn’t have withstood the fitness test, and he would’ve been sidelined to a desk job. Keaton’s injuries could’ve done the same. Fletcher and Dawson’s bodies had recovered well enough, but their minds were still suffering the consequences.
Staying in the Navy after that, at their ages, hadn’t been an option.
“It’s hard to say,” Fletcher said. “Baily wasn’t talking too much, but you know I wanted her in my life, and that always meant I needed to come back here.
However, the Navy—being a SEAL—had become part of who I was.
I’m not sure. I guess it would’ve all come down to the same thing it always did before I signed those papers. ”
Dawson snorted. “A trip back here to see if Baily would have anything to do with you. If it was a no, the pen came out.”
“Exactly. It was a never-ending cycle.” Fletcher sighed.
“How are things going with the two of you?” Dawson arched a brow and cracked a smile.
Fletcher chuckled. “Well enough. It’s comfortable. Like a favorite pair of slippers that are worn out at the toes, but you’re never going to get rid of. But at the same time, it’s all shiny and new.”
“That has to be the weirdest thing you’ve ever said,” Dawson said.
“I don’t know how else to explain it, and I don’t want to test fate, so I’m just following her lead. Doing my best to be there for her. Not push the wrong buttons and make damn sure she doesn’t lose all that she holds dear.”
“You’re turning into an old sap, you know that?”
“We all are,” Fletcher mused. “Are you sure you want me in there for this? He called you, not me, and Decker and I… Well, we don’t usually have nice things to say to one another. Just letting his name roll off my tongue makes me want to haul off and connect my fist with his ugly ass face.”
“I wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t think it was a good idea.” Dawson’s gaze met his. “But you need to let me be the one to do most of the talking. No posturing, no chest beating. Let’s find out why he called.”
“I can probably behave,” Fletcher muttered, pushing off the SUV. “As long as he doesn’t say something that pisses me off.”
Dawson chuckled dryly. “Come on.”
The pub door creaked open on well-worn hinges.
The familiar scent of fried seafood, spilled beer, and lemon cleaner hit Fletcher like a wave.
It was early enough that the place wasn’t too crowded.
A few locals nursed beers at the far end of the bar, but there were still a few empty tables. But that would change.
They spotted Decker Brown immediately.
He sat in a booth near the back, hunched over a glass of whiskey.
His usually perfectly styled hair was a mess, and his blazer looked like it had been slept in.
He was twitchy, fingers drumming against the side of the glass, gaze darting around the bar like he wasn’t supposed to be there, and he was terrified he was about to get caught.
He glanced in their direction, and his eyes went wide. He lifted his glass, brought it to his lips, dropped his head back, and drained the glass.
“Good evening, Decker.” Dawson stood at the edge of the booth, while Fletcher hung back two steps.
“Dawson,” Decker said, voice low. “Didn’t expect you to bring backup.”
Dawson slid into the booth across from him. Fletcher wasn’t quite sure what to do yet, so he simply inched forward, trying not to crowd Decker, and yet, making his presence known…and felt.
“Is there a reason Fletcher can’t be here? Is this official police business?” Dawson asked with a calm, even tone. It wasn’t accusatory. Just a simple question, but it lingered in the air like thick fog.
“I wanted to speak to you. Alone.” Decker’s jaw flexed. “This is a…sensitive matter.”
“Does it have to do with putting in a bid for the old Crab Shack?” Dawson asked.
“That’s part of it, but not the sum total.” Decker turned, waving his hand toward the waitress.
“If it’s about that, then Fletcher stays.
He’s one of my business partners in that deal, not to mention his home is one lot over.
This affects him.” Dawson scooted further in the booth, motioning to Fletcher to sit.
It wasn’t a casual wave of the hand. It was more like an order. One that Fletcher wouldn’t ignore.
Decker looked at Fletcher. His eyes were bloodshot. His shoulders were slumped and seemed to carry the weight of the world. “Fine. Might as well have a seat.”
Fletcher was already halfway in.
The waitress showed up. “What can I get you boys?”
“I’ll take another bourbon,” Decker said. “Make it a double.”
“Tequila on the rocks.” Dawson nodded.
“Same for me,” Fletcher said. “Food, anyone? Because I haven’t had dinner, and I’m starving.”
“Yeah, sure. How about we get the seafood appetizer platter?” Decker leaned back, raking his fingers through his hair. “That’s enough food for all of us.”
“You’re going to share?” Fletcher asked, wishing he’d kept his sarcasm to himself.
“I’m even gonna foot the bill,” Decker said in a hot, mocking tone.
“Let’s settle things down a few levels.” Dawson nodded to the waitress, who scurried away like she’d seen a snake dare a chicken to cross the gator-infested river.