Chapter 3
Ihurried across the passerelle to the aft deck of the superyacht. Usually, I was greeted by an excited Jack Russell, but the hyperactive terrier was nowhere to be found. I was hoping Teagan had figured something was amiss.
I unlocked the glass door, slid it open, and stepped into the salon. The boat was quiet. I called out for Buddy, but he didn't come running. Fluffy wasn't on her usual perch.
The feds had confiscated our phones and our weapons when we were bagged. I hustled up to the bridge deck, grabbed my other phone from the nightstand drawer, and called Teagan. Only a few people had this number. And there were dozens of missed calls and texts.
The gorgeous brunette answered a moment later. Commotion in the background filtered through. "Where have you been?”
"Long story. Did you come by the boat and pick up the animals?”
"You’re welcome.”
"Thank you," I said in a relieved breath.
"Who is she, and was she fun?” she asked with a hint of jealousy in her voice.
I chuckled. "I wish.”
"Is this one of those things where I shouldn't ask questions?"
"Yes.”
She huffed. "Fine. But you know me. I'm not going to tell anybody. I can keep a secret."
"It's better if you don’t know.”
"You mean safer?”
"Something like that."
A frustrated exhale escaped her lips. "You need to be careful.”
"Some things can't be anticipated."
"How much longer are you and Jack going to do this?”
"How's everything at the bar?" I asked, changing the subject.
"Don't dodge me.”
I laughed. "What do you want me to say?”
"I've been terrified for the last three days. I kept thinking the sheriff was gonna walk in here and tell me bad news. I mean, you guys disappear all the time, but I had a bad feeling about this one," she said with a shaky voice.
"We’re still here.”
She was silent for a long moment. "You've got to promise me. You're never going to make me cry over you.”
I chuckled again. "I promise."
"Say it again."
"I promise.”
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."
"I promise," I said, louder.
"That's three times." She paused. "I'm telling you right now. I'm not going to your funeral. Nobody is going to hand me a folded flag. You got that.”
It didn't take a rocket scientist to see how much she cared. “I'm not going anywhere, anytime soon."
She took a deep breath. "I’ve got the little fur balls here if you want to come get them, or I can keep them for the rest of the day.”
"JD and I are pretty hungry. I'm going to take a shower, get changed, and we’ll see you at the bar in a bit.” I ended the call, peeled out of my dirty, stinky clothes, and hopped into the shower.
The hot water felt so good. I stayed in there for way too long, washing off the trauma of the last few days.
I hopped out of the shower, toweled off, and cracked the hatch. I wiped the steam from the mirror, then took a good look at the damage. It looked like I'd been through hell and back. I'd seen guys go 12 rounds with a heavyweight that looked better.
I shaved, brushed my teeth, and got dressed. JD joined me in the salon, then we headed down the dock to Diver Down. A few people dined, taking in the view of the ocean.
We grabbed a seat at the bar. Teagan gasped, eyes wide when she saw us. "Oh my God! What the hell happened to you two!?”
JD and I exchanged a quick glance.
"Fishing trip," we said in unison.
"Fishing trip?" Teagan replied, hands on her hips.
"You see, I hooked this fish," Jack started.
Teagan’s teal eyes narrowed at him. She stood there behind the bar in disbelief, wearing a tight bikini top and cut-off jean shorts.
Jack continued, "It was a big son-of-a-bitch. The line snapped, and the reel kicked back and smacked me in the eye."
It was a lame story, and she didn't buy it for a second. Her eyes flicked to me. "You too?”
"Equipment malfunction,” I said.
"We ought to sue the manufacturer," Jack added.
"You guys are so full of shit.” She knew it was a pointless exercise. She wasn’t going to get the story out of us. “What do you want?"
We grabbed menus and started looking over the items.
Harlan sat at the end of the bar, sipping a longneck. By the look on his face, he had something snarky to say. He held it back for a moment. After another beat, he said, "Looks like an improvement to me."
Jack sneered at him.
We went with the basics—bacon double cheeseburger with Pepper Jack and sautéed mushrooms. A basket of crispy sweet potato fries was the perfect complement. We chowed down and filled our bellies. It was arguably the best meal I’d ever had for obvious reasons.
Paris Delaney appeared on the flatscreen behind the bar.
The gorgeous blonde never missed much. "I'm here at the county courthouse, where Darrell York has entered an Alford plea.
Accused and convicted of the murder of Sarah Sweet 15 years ago, Darrell has been serving a life sentence in Palmetto Pointe Correctional Facility.
That is until today. After new DNA evidence came to light exonerating York, the deal allows him to walk a free man due to time served, sparing the state the expense of a costly retrial.
Several notable musicians and celebrities have advocated for York, maintaining his innocence.
A Go Fund It page established by his girlfriend has generated over $1 million in support so far.
With me now is the family of Sarah Sweet. "
Paris turned to the couple standing next to her. Now in their late 50s, a mix of rage and sadness brewed on their faces. "Can you share your thoughts about this new development?"
Mr. Sweet could barely contain himself. "It's sickening!
A travesty of justice. They're going to let this monster walk the streets.
I've had to endure 15 years of celebrity support for this creep, and not one ounce of compassion for my daughter.
" Mr. Sweet was on the verge of tears. His wife was already there.
Their son, now in his early 30s, put a comforting hand on his mother’s shoulder.
Jacob Sweet was a tall, athletic gentleman with blond hair now heading toward gray. He had a square jaw and blue eyes. His wife was a petite brunette with shoulder-length hair, full lips, and dark eyes, which she blotted with a tissue.
Their son, Chris, resembled his mother with dark hair and dark eyes.
"It looks like York is exiting the courthouse with his attorney now," Paris said into the camera.
The crowd rushed to surround York, and Paris was no exception.
Cameras and microphones closed in. Flashes squinted York’s eyes.
Reporters shouted questions.
"Did you kill Sarah Sweet?”
"How does it feel to be a free man?”
"What will you do with the million dollars?"
His attorney did his best to settle the crowd.
"Mr. York is pleased with the terms of the agreement and anxious to put the past behind him. Robbed of 15 years of his life for a crime he did not commit, he intends to start again and make the most of his remaining time. We ask that you respect his privacy and not harass the man.”
“If you're innocent, why did you take the plea agreement?” a reporter shouted.
Darrell's attorney started to answer, but York took this one. “Well, it's pretty simple," he said with a slight southern drawl.
York was 50 now, with long, stringy brown hair that dangled above his shoulders. He had a mustache and a goatee. His puffy, narrow eyes surveyed the crowd. He was the kind of greasy, shifty guy that didn't exactly inspire trust.
York continued. "I can either take this shitty agreement and walk now.
Or I can sit in jail for another six months to two years waiting for my appeal to go through.
With as corrupt as this county is, I didn't want to take the risk of anything happening. Wouldn’t be the first time this county has lost exculpatory evidence or convicted an innocent man.
I have a limited number of days left, and they grow shorter every day.
This was a chance to get my life back, and I'm ready to get busy living. "
"What will you do with the money?"
Darrell sucked his lips and thought about it for a second. "I haven't rightly given it much consideration." He smiled and held his arms outstretched. "It's just good to breathe the free air, feel the sunlight on my face, and dream of possibilities."
"You're a murderer!" Mr. Sweet cried. "You killed my daughter. I swear to God, you will reap what you sow!”
At that point, I fully expected Mr. Sweet to pull out a pistol and shoot the man.