Chapter 12
Having their own bay view was more than she’d ever expected. Savannah parked in the driveway of their new home and walked
across the fragrant, freshly mown grass to find Hez. Early May showers had greened up the lush vegetation. He’d initially
suggested meeting at the Pelican Harbor beach, but she’d had some work to finish and reminded him they had a perfect spot
to watch the sunset from their dock. Simon was at a tutoring session with Will, and they had three hours to themselves.
She paused to enjoy the view of Hez against the backdrop of the sunset. He’d changed into shorts and a tee, and his thick
dark hair was still damp from a shower. His muscular legs dangled over the edge of the dock where he sat tossing bits of bread
to the gulls.
Another month and they’d repeat their wedding vows. She still marveled that they’d found their way back to each other through
the trauma. She never wanted to take that blessing for granted. How many couples managed to find the bedrock under their relationship
and withstand the storms that battered them like she and Hez had done? Not many.
When she stepped onto the weathered boards, the vibration alerted Hez to her presence and he stood.
When he smiled at her, the sun almost seemed to change its mind about setting.
Hez really saw her and always had. He opened his arms and she stepped into his embrace.
He kissed her like he’d been as hungry for her as she was for him.
With his lips on hers, she forgot the ordeal of the past few weeks and their fears for the future.
She finally pulled away and smiled up at him. “I should have left the work on my desk and come here as soon as you called.”
“It gave me time to grab shrimp étouffée and take a shower.”
When he settled back on the dock and tugged on her hand, she sat beside him with the water reflecting the colorful sunset
beneath her feet. “Wonderful! Neither of us has to cook, and we can actually talk.” He slipped his arm around her, and she
leaned her cheek against his shoulder. “But no problems are allowed to intrude. I want to focus on the wedding and our honeymoon.”
“That’s a plan I can get behind.”
He kissed her again, and she murmured against his lips, “Or maybe we don’t have to talk at all.” So they didn’t for several
delicious minutes until he finally sighed and pulled away.
“June can’t come soon enough. Are there any decisions to make for the reception?”
She pulled out her phone to show him some photos. “I was unsure on the cake. We were going to have a traditional cake, but
what if we do cupcakes? I saw a display that alternated tiers of cupcakes and macarons. It was so pretty and different.” She
handed him her phone.
He scrolled through them. “I approve. We could even skip the cake entirely and serve beignets. And I have a surprise I want
to do if you’ll let me.”
“You can do whatever you’d like. What is it?”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “It’s a surprise. It will come at the end. Will you trust me?”
“I think you know I do.” He had impeccable instincts and great ideas. She couldn’t wait to see what he’d planned.
They discussed the guest list and decided to expand it a little. Talking things over made it all seem more real and imminent.
Her tummy rumbled. “I wouldn’t mind some of that étouffée you bought. I don’t think I had lunch.”
“It’s in the Crock-Pot keeping warm.” He rose and helped her to her feet.
They strolled toward the house to the sound of doves cooing. She tensed to see a truck like Michael’s rumble past. “It wouldn’t
be him.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him to try to see what you’re doing. I talked to—” He clamped his lips shut. “Sorry, no talking about
problems tonight.”
Dread curled in her chest. “I need to know if it’s bad.” He reached out his hand to lead her toward the door, and she clung
to it. “It’s that bad?”
“I had two conversations today—one planned and one not planned.”
“You talked to Scott?” She knew he had an appointment coming up but wasn’t sure when. Hez held open the door, and she stepped
into the fragrant aroma of shrimp étouffée. The scent of Cajun spices and shrimp usually made her mouth water, but her stomach
clenched with the blow she sensed was taking aim at her heart. She stopped by the kitchen counter next to the Crock-Pot. “Tell
me.”
“Scott confirmed our chances were slim without Erik’s consent. But it wasn’t all bad.”
As Hez laid out his plan to dig up evidence on Michael’s criminal activity, she reached up and traced the still-healing ridge
of flesh from his injury. “Hez, you nearly died. This is risky—too risky.”
His jaw flexed, and he narrowed his eyes. “It’s our only chance unless you want to cave to your dad’s extortion.”
“He was your unexpected appointment?”
“He was waiting for me to leave Scott’s and ambushed me. I will say this, though—if he hadn’t mentioned all the dirt he had
on Michael, I might not have come up with the idea to prove him unfit to raise Simon.”
Hez went over her father’s demands, and she clenched her fists. “He’s despicable. Doesn’t he care at all about Simon?”
“Probably not. His first love is money, and Simon isn’t really his grandson. In spite of the way he seemed to want to get
to know him, I’m afraid he only wanted access to Jess’s money.”
“Like Erik.” She flexed her fingers and made herself relax her hands. “I think Dad was always this way, but I wouldn’t let
myself see it. If I’d had the courage to stand up to him sooner, maybe I could have saved my mom. If I’d defied him, maybe
Jess wouldn’t have gone down that dark road of hatred and revenge.” Her throat thickened. “There are so many things I wish
I’d done differently.”
He palmed her face and gazed down at her with tenderness in his eyes.
“We each make our own choices, babe. You were just a kid. I doubt your mom would have appreciated the stress of constant warfare, and it might have made Jess worse. We can’t change what is or the choices any of them made.
Dwelling on the might-have-beens is a sure way to destroy the future.
It was only by the grace of God that guilt didn’t ruin my life.
It’s been hard to let go of the burden of guilt and accept forgiveness—both from you and from God.
” His voice shook. “I have to work on it every day. You need to do that too. This is not your fault.”
He was right. She wrapped her arms around him. “We’ve overcome so much, Hez. Even if Simon goes to Michael, he’s still our
nephew. We’ll get to see him and have a part in his life.” The thought stabbed her heart, though.
He stiffened. “I don’t intend to let that happen. I’m going to work hard at finding a crack in Michael’s armor. There has
to be a way of proving he’s a criminal.”
She inhaled. “Do you think Michael wants Simon’s money too?”
“I don’t get the sense he cares about that. I think he really believes Simon should be raised as a Willard.” Hez rubbed his
thumb along the ridge between her eyes. “That’s your thinking frown. What are you planning?”
She ran her fingers over her bracelet. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to find out Michael’s motives and offer him an olive branch.
We’ll need to deal with him no matter who has custody. Open warfare isn’t good for Simon no matter who he lives with.”
And she knew just who to talk to. Nora might be willing to help her figure this out.
Hez sat alone in the Justice Chamber, staring at his monitor.
The quiet space away from the busy administration building always helped him focus and think.
The information about Anton Todorov hadn’t gone anywhere.
Hez had sent the man’s name and picture to Bruno to research, but there’d been no trail to follow.
Even the metadata on the picture had been scrubbed.
Martine’s client was being very careful to keep his—her? their?—identity secret. Why?
Then Hez got an email from Bruno that took his mind completely off Martine and her client. Hez gave a soft whistle. “Is this
what you used to get Marie back, Pierre?”
Hez had been digging into Michael’s background ever since Pierre’s comments about a dossier of dirt—and he’d finally caught
a gleam of gold. Or rather meth.
The trail began back in the 1980s, when Michael Willard had just started his trucking company, Southern Transport, with a
single used truck. By 1989 he’d been arrested twice for receiving stolen property, but each time the charges were dropped
because he claimed he didn’t know his load was stolen and the police couldn’t prove otherwise. Even taking questionable cargo
hadn’t been enough to keep Michael afloat financially. His original truck got repossessed and Southern Transport filed for
bankruptcy.
And then something happened. By the early 1990s Southern Transport was out of bankruptcy and had seven new trucks. Around
the same time the outlaw biker gang that had controlled the local meth trade suddenly started avoiding the area. That might
have had something to do with what happened to two low-level gang members: Their bodies were found in Gum Swamp, tied to stakes
pounded deep into the soft earth. The gators had been working on both, hopefully after they were dead.
Police records and news accounts showed that the meth kept flowing despite the bikers’ departure. Did Pierre find evidence that the drugs traveled on Southern Transport trucks? That might have been enough to shock Marie into leaving Michael. It also would have given Pierre leverage to—
“Hi, Uncle Hez.”
Hez immediately closed the browser window and turned to face Simon, who stood in the doorway. “Hi, Simon. I didn’t hear you
come in. I thought you were in the library doing your homework.”
“I finished, but Aunt Savannah was in a meeting, so I came over here.” He stared at Hez’s monitor. “What are you working on?”
“Just researching an old case.”
Simon’s eyes locked on Hez. “Is it about James Hornbrook?”
“No, it’s completely unrelated.”
“Oh.” Simon deflated. “I hoped maybe we were going to catch him soon.”
“We’re working hard on it.”
“If we catch him, can we make him tell us if he killed my mom?”
“He has a legal right not to say anything if he doesn’t want to, but I’m sure Hope will do everything she can to get him to
talk.”
“Good.” Simon was silent for a moment. “I wish I knew who to be mad at. Now I just feel so . . . so mad at everything.”
Hez nodded. “I know. That’s kind of how I felt after Ella died—except I knew who to be mad at: me.
But I was also mad at everything, just like you.
I was mad that Ella was dead and there was nothing I could do to bring her back and—” His throat constricted and he fought to hold back tears.
The sudden surge of emotion surprised and embarrassed him.
Would he ever be able to talk about Ella’s death without risking a scene?
Simon walked around the desk and put his hand on Hez’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Uncle Hez.”
Hez steadied himself. “Thanks. I’m really sorry about your mom too. You can tell me the things you miss about her and any
memories you want to share. Or even just how it makes you feel. I know it hurts to talk about it, but it helps too. I wish
I’d figured that out sooner after Ella died. So I want you to tell me when you’re feeling angry or you’re having other bad
feelings, okay? I can take it. I understand.”
Simon buried his face in Hez’s shoulder and hugged his neck with surprising strength. “Thanks, Uncle Hez.”