Chapter 12
The steady click of her pen was the only sound in the marina office besides the distant whirl of a trolling motor and the occasional cry of a gull.
Baily stood behind the counter, thumbing through invoices and rental logs, trying to ignore the knot forming at the base of her neck.
The numbers didn’t lie—things were tight.
Tighter than they’d ever been, even with allowing help from Fletcher and his friends.
She glanced at her cell. No new texts from Fletcher, and that made her nervous, especially since he’d been meeting with the boys and Decker for a super-secret meeting at the B&B about the plans for the old Crab Shack.
Of course, she was also waiting for an update from Chloe regarding this Enzo lawyer-person and when that meeting would take place. It felt like she was in a holding pattern, waiting either for someone to tell her they had an answer or for another bad thing to happen.
The door opened, and in strolled Trinity, rubbing her little baby bump. “Hey there. How are you today?”
“It’s not the worst day.” Baily stepped from behind the counter to hug her friend. “What brings you by?”
“Keaton left his favorite hoodie on his boat, along with one of my bags with some towels.” Trinity shrugged. “Sometimes, my ultra neat freak husband can’t remember the head attached to his shoulders.”
“Bingo brought the bag, but there wasn’t a sweatshirt that I saw.” Baily pointed to the corner by her office door. “He’s cleaning the boat as we speak.”
“You’re letting him clean boats while on the clock for you?” Trinity asked. “Now I feel a little guilty, but in a really weird way. Not so much for Bingo, because he needs the money, but like we’re somehow taking advantage of you.”
Baily laughed. “There isn’t much for him to do right now, but I still need a body here. So, I told him if he doesn’t have homework to do, he could wash the boats he’s contracted to do. However, if something I need comes up, he’s got to shift gears.”
“That’s mighty nice of you.”
“When I was a kid, my dad used to let me double dip like that as well.” Baily leaned against the counter. “Bingo’s a great employee. He’s an excellent student. I’m going to miss him when he leaves for college in the fall.”
“Have you replaced him?”
Baily shook her head. “Technically, I haven’t even advertised the position, but everyone knows it’s going to open up. I’ve talked to a couple of his friends, but no one can give me the hours he can during the school year. So, either I’ve got to hire two kids, or one adult.”
“You’ll figure it out.” Trinity smiled, rubbing her belly. It seemed as if that was all she did these days. “And we’ll be around to help out when we can.”
“I know. I appreciate all that you do as it is.”
“What are friends for?” Trinity paused the circular motion and glanced down.
“Give me your hand.” She raced around the corner, grabbed Baily’s hand, and placed it firmly on her lower abdomen.
“I’m constantly feeling this little rascal, but Keaton’s only felt it once, and that was last night. It was just a little… Feel that?”
Baily jerked her hand back like she’d been burned. “Yeah.” She blinked. “Holy cow.”
“I know, right? It’s like the movie Alien, and it’s growing inside me.”
Baily burst out laughing. “I would expect Audra to describe her kid as a monster, but not you.”
Trinity shrugged. “It’s so strange. I mean, I’m ready for the parenthood part.
I can handle breastfeeding, diapering, and being puked on.
But this part? It’s so strange. I mean, my boobs are massive.
My ankles are swollen. I’ve gained ten pounds already.
That part I don’t care about, but everything seems so foreign. Keaton thinks I’m losing my mind.”
“You are.” Baily grabbed Trinity by the forearms and kissed her cheek. “But it’s why we all adore you.”
“Now, you sound like Audra.” Trinity glanced at her watch. “Speaking of which, I need to head over to the B&B and pick her up. I talked her into doing a registry for the baby.” Trinity wiggled her finger under Baily’s nose. “And you and Chloe are in charge of the shower.”
Baily rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve been informed.”
“I’ll see you tonight for the bonfire.” Trinity waved her hand over her head before disappearing out the door. Sometimes that girl was too much.
Baily sighed, leaned against the counter, and went back to the numbers. She’d promised Fletcher a bottom line for what she needed to run the marina through the winter months, ignoring the payment for the loan.
Static crackled through the two-way radio mounted on the wall behind her.
“This is Mitchell’s Runabout Three,” came a panicked voice, male, maybe mid-twenties. “We’re dead in the water, just west of Marker 14. Boat won’t start.”
Baily stood instantly. “Copy that, Runabout Three. This is Baily at Mitchell’s. What happened? Can you describe what you’ve done to try to start the engine?”
“Engine turned over, sputtered, then died. Tried again. Nothing,” the man said. His name was Nolan, and he and his girlfriend had rented the boat early that morning. It was the only rental still out.
“Check your kill switch and make sure the gas line valve’s open. Then give the bulb a good couple of squeezes before trying again.”
“We already did. Nothing,” Nolan said. “Won’t even turn over anymore. I tried everything I can think of.”
Baily sighed. Christian had recently serviced all the boats.
They should be fine. Should be were the operative words.
They were old. The boats were in good shape and would last a long time.
But the engines? Well, she could only rebuild them so many times before they plumb died on her.
This could be that time. “Can you give me your location?”
“I’m guessing we’re about twenty-five minutes from the docks. We’re near that big cypress bend.”
“All right. Sit tight. I’ll come get you.” She grabbed the airboat keys from the hook, slipped her cell into its waterproof case, and slung it over her shoulder.
She stepped outside, locking the door to the marina, and turning the sign that read: At the docks. Be right back. She strolled down toward Keaton’s shiny new center console fishing boat. “Hey, Bingo,” she called.
“Yeah?” He popped up from the stern, all sweaty and soapy.
“I have to go rescue the rental.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “The door to the marina is locked. The sign’s on the door. I don’t expect anyone but Silas, Hayes, and Fletcher. They will need to gas up the Everglades Overwatch boats.”
“The ones at the dock, I’ve already done. Bill is waiting for them when they return from giving tours.”
“I’m gonna be lost without you when you go to college.”
“I doubt that,” Bingo said. “I just have to hose down these engines and dry off the covers. Once I’m done, I’ll head into the marina.”
“You’ve got your keys?”
“Sure do.”
“See you in about an hour.” She turned and headed toward the last dock. The one that was falling apart. The one that she wouldn’t let a customer walk down if it were the only dock on the premises.
The airboat was old—a rust bucket—but she kept the maintenance up on it, just like the rest of the boats she owned.
She fired up the engine and eased out from the dock, heading out of the canal and into the Everglades. God, she loved being on the water. Sadly, she didn’t get out on it enough. Too many things needed to be done around the marina, and there weren’t enough employees to do it.
Lifting her chin, she enjoyed the warm air smacking against her skin. The sun lowered in the sky, but it would be hours before day gave way to night.
She gave the airboat a little more gas.
It barely crawled forward.
She tried again. It gave barely a sluggish glide. Then came the faint gurgling. Shifting her weight, she glanced down—water sloshed at her boots. “Shit.” She released the lever brought the boat to idle, and before lifting the hatch to check the bilge.
Full of water.
She flipped the switch. Nothing. She tried again, but the pump wasn’t running.
She lowered her body, lying in the water seeping in through the hull, which also didn’t make sense.
The boat was taking on too much water…too fast. Quickly, she stuck her hand inside the hatch, found the hose, and tugged.
Holding it in her hand, she blinked. “What the hell?” The hose wasn’t just severed. It was cut. Not frayed. Not worn.
Someone had taken something sharp to it and sliced through the rubber. She didn’t need to be a detective to figure that out.
Her stomach dropped.
She turned and sat her ass back in the captain’s chair. She didn’t have much time. She hit the lever, but the engine sputtered then died. She twisted the key, but it didn’t turn over.
Nothing.
The gas gauge taunted her. “No. No. No.” She fisted her pants. She kept this boat gassed up at all times in case of emergencies. It was the only boat she didn’t rent. The only one that was always at the docks.
She reached for the radio. But it didn’t hiss or crackle, which was odd. She pressed the mic.
Nothing.
That’s when she noticed the wiring—sliced, frayed at the base. This wasn’t wear and tear. It was deliberate.
Pulling her cell from its protective wrap, she checked the service bars. Barely one. She tried Bingo’s number. It failed. She tried again. Same thing. She was in that weird dead zone spot right in the mouth of the Everglades.
Panic prickled across her skin.
She grabbed a flare from the emergency kit, but the container was empty.
“This can’t be happening,” she whispered, scanning the horizon. The Glades stretched in every direction, the sawgrass endless, the water black and bottomless.
And then she saw them—gator eyes. Low, steady, moving closer.
She didn’t scream. Yelling didn’t help. She stood slowly, trying to keep her balance as the boat dipped lower.
She waved her arms, hoping to catch the sun’s reflection, praying someone—anyone—was out there.
A motor buzzed faintly in the distance.
Then again—closer.