Chapter 7 #2
“It’s tough to explain,” Fletcher said, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. “Part of it’s just a gut feeling—a chain reaction of things that don’t sit right.
I wish I could say it all started with Ken knowing about Paul Massey and his son running drugs years ago.
But it’s deeper than that.” He pushed his sunglasses up onto his head.
“Ken was my best friend in high school. Finding out he knew what was going on back then—and told no one—felt like a betrayal. A big one. And the way he handled things with Audra? That didn’t come from a man in love.
Sure, she was in a tough spot back then, but when he found her, it was like he just wanted to wash his hands of it all. That never sat right with me.”
“Or any of us,” Hayes added with a nod.
Chloe sat on the bench in front of the center console, listening closely. She’d heard stories about Ken before, but they’d all been painted in fond, lighthearted strokes. This version was…different. Her FBI instincts stirred, prompting questions and threads she wanted to follow.
“But what went down between him and Baily bothers me even more,” Fletcher continued.
“They’re family. He should’ve supported her.
Instead, he undercut her. And now that she’s started letting me in, I’m seeing things that raise red flags—but there are still too many missing pieces to get the full picture. ”
“Maybe I can help,” Chloe offered with a soft smile. “My job’s solving puzzles with half the pieces missing.”
“It’s a mess,” Fletcher admitted. “Ken always talked a big game about investing. And it showed—cars, boats, a beautiful house. He had more money than any of us.”
“But that could’ve come from Julie’s family,” Hayes said. “They had some money, didn’t they?”
“They did,” Fletcher said, rolling his neck.
“But Ken was proud. He always told us he didn’t want to take a dime from his in-laws.
He wanted to provide for his family himself.
He studied the market like a religion and constantly preached to us about investing.
We all took some of that advice—hell, we couldn’t have launched Everglades Overwatch without it. ”
Chloe frowned. “But you said Baily’s dad made bad investments based on Ken’s advice. If it worked for you guys, why not for him?”
“Exactly,” Fletcher said, pointing. “It doesn’t add up.
Even when Baily and I weren’t on good terms, I kept in touch with her dad.
He confided in me about a few of the investments he regretted—and he said those came from Ken.
I didn’t say much at the time. I was stuck in the middle—still in love with my ex, trying to respect her father, and loyal to one of my best friends.
So I just listened.” He leaned forward. “Would you be willing to look into this Tessa woman and her family’s company? ”
“I can ask around,” Chloe said. “But I did dig into her connection with Decker. Turns out, she gave him money—and it looks like they were sleeping together. I didn’t uncover anything illegal or even suspicious.”
Fletcher cursed under his breath. “That actually makes me more uneasy. It paints Decker like a predator—always working an angle. He keeps showing up here like he’s just another out-of-towner who fell in love with the charm of Calusa Cove.
He flirts with Baily, keeps it casual, never pushes too hard—but he never really backs off either.
It’s like he’s circling, waiting. And he was at the town meeting about auctioning off the Crab Shack. ”
Chloe sighed. “That definitely feels...calculated. What about Keaton’s land? He’s planning to rebuild and sell, right? Wouldn’t a developer want to buy it before that happens?”
“No one’s made him an offer,” Fletcher said.
“I might,” Hayes added.
Fletcher’s head whipped around. “Seriously? You’re thinking about buying something other than a mobile home or a houseboat? We figured that’s as far as you’d go.”
Hayes laughed. “Any of you planning to leave Calusa Cove?”
“Never,” Fletcher said without hesitation.
“Then I’m not leaving either.”
Chloe’s heart fluttered. She remembered clearly—Hayes had made it known early on that he didn’t do permanence.
He’d practically emphasized the word rental when she’d first seen his place, as if to make sure she understood he didn’t put down roots.
The idea of him buying property—owning something—meant something.
“Maybe you should bid on the Crab Shack, too,” Fletcher teased, grinning. “Hell, maybe we all should.”
“And do what, exactly?” Hayes arched a brow, though a crooked smile formed. His eyes danced with mischief.
“Open a ‘catch of the day’ restaurant,” Fletcher said with a laugh.
“Trinity and Keaton brought back so many fish on their last trip that they were giving them away in the parking lot. Imagine if we had a place where people could bring in their haul, and we cook it fresh for them. Or buy from the local fisherman for what we feed to the customers.”
“As if we don’t all have enough on our plates already.” Hayes shook his head, still smiling.
“We could make it work. I know two skilled cooks who are looking for jobs, and hiring wait staff is relatively easy. Trinity hates her job, and with a baby on the way, maybe she’d manage the place. It’s doable. We should war-game it.”
“And create a dozen new problems,” Chloe cut in. “Like all of you riding in to ‘save’ Baily when she clearly wants to handle things herself.”
“We’re not trying to rescue her,” Fletcher said quickly. “She won’t even let me change a lightbulb without accusing me of being a controlling nutjob.”
“It’s not just about Baily,” Hayes added. “It’s about keeping Calusa Cove the way it is—small, grounded. Besides, we’d talk to her first. This affects her as much as any of us.” Hayes pointed toward the shoreline. “There’s the shack Dewey was talking about.”
Chloe turned. She raised her hand, covering her eyes, and squinted. A makeshift roof appeared through the lush trees. “How could anyone live back here?”
“Dawson thought maybe he moved on to another town a couple of months ago,” Fletcher said. “Not many spots to pull in with all this mangrove, and I’d rather not trek through the swamp.”
“We can circle around,” Hayes said, easing off the throttle. “There’s solid ground near that bend—we can tie off there.”
“Which means more walking.” Chloe shivered. “I love the Everglades—when I’m safely in a boat. On foot? No thanks. One python lunge, and I’m a protein shake.”
Hayes chuckled. “I’ve stopped worrying about the snakes. It’s the gators you’ve got to watch. They sneak up quietly and drag you under before you even scream.”
“I grew up here,” Fletcher said, laughing. “The only thing that gives me the creeps is a six-foot rattlesnake—unless Audra’s around. The stuff she pulled as a teen would put hair on your chest.”
A lump rose in Chloe’s throat. Heather had only been twenty when she’d died. Barely old enough to understand how fragile life really was. Someone had stolen her future for the sake of a thrill, and Chloe had spent thirteen years trying to make peace with it.
She used to bury her grief beneath work, labeling Heather as just another victim.
A case number. Not her twin. Not her family.
That was easier. Her coworkers had called her the Ice Princess.
Maybe she was cold. Maybe she’d built a wall.
But she felt everything. Every murder chipped away at her, one fragment at a time.
At home, in the silence, she unraveled. Hot tears in the shower, eyes red and raw by morning. But she never let it show at work.
That had changed with this last victim. Something about her had shattered the distance Chloe had carefully maintained.
Hayes steered the boat to the bend and killed the engine.
Fletcher stood, adjusted his belt, and moved around the console. Unlike some of his Parks and Rec counterparts, Fletcher carried a weapon. His position was classified as law enforcement, and today, that might matter.
They tied the boat off and stepped onto land.
“This is Seminole land,” Fletcher said, his tone cautious. “If someone’s living here, we don’t have much authority unless they’re doing something seriously illegal.”
“Even if they’re not part of the tribe?” Chloe asked, gripping Hayes’s hand as they navigated the thick brush, scanning for snakes and anything else that might strike.
Hayes nodded. “Unless they’re damaging the land, the Seminole Nation usually leaves them alone.”
“Truth is, so do we,” Fletcher added, sweeping a long stick through the tall grass ahead. “It’s risky living out here, and we discourage it, but we don’t stop them—the same way we don’t clear out the squatters on salvaged boats. As long as they keep to themselves, we keep track and let it be.”
“That shack’s been there a while,” Hayes said. “I don’t know why Dewey claimed it was new. That doesn’t make sense. He knows these parts better than anyone—except maybe Silas.”
“Funny you mention him,” Fletcher replied. “Silas told me recently he thinks something’s off with Dewey. Said he saw him coming out of a doctor’s office a few towns over.”
Chloe frowned. “Why’s that odd?”
“Because Dewey doesn’t do doctors,” Fletcher said.
“I’ve known him my whole life. Years ago, he fell off a roof helping a neighbor during a storm and broke his leg in two places.
Went to the ER, sure, but walked out the minute they put his leg in plaster.
Cut off his own cast a few weeks later. He thinks doctors are quacks.
Tells anyone who’ll listen that hard work, clean food, and moderation are all a man needs. ”
“Maybe he’s sick,” Hayes said quietly.
“If he is, he won’t say a word. That’s Dewey. Too damn stubborn for his own good.” Fletcher sighed. “Honestly, I think it’s something in the water—half this town is built on pride and mule-headedness.”