Chapter 14 #2
Buddy understood why Chloe might find the statement teetering on dark humor. Dewey had murdered her sister, among over thirty other victims. Not to mention, as it turned out, Dewey was her biological father. When everything was said and done, she found out she had a half-sister.
Talk about strange times.
Silas glanced between them all. “Look—Tessa’s case—it’s the one that this town never let go. I’m sure Tripp wrote about it in his private journal. He kept those pages separate from his reports. Like he was trying to solve it in his sleep. He did that with a lot of things.”
“I’m well aware.” Dawson lifted the leatherbound book, flipping through Tripp’s sparse notes.
“Not much here about the investigation. Just mentions of the families, Fallon’s grief, and the fact that he hated dead ends.
The rest is just his frustration over having no leads and nothing to give the family. ”
Silas’s hands trembled on the brim of his cap. “Fallon did everything she could to help back then. She was just a kid herself. But she never stopped—fundraisers, prevention work, speaking at schools. All of South Florida knows who she is and who she lost.”
Buddy’s throat tightened because he knew exactly how many ways loss could twist a person.
And Fallon… hers was woven into everything she did.
“Thank you, Silas. That’s all we need right now,” Flagler said.
Silas stood. Paused. Looked at Buddy with something like an apology. “I hope you catch whoever’s doing this. Fallon deserves peace. Been a long time coming.”
“We will,” Buddy vowed.
Silas tipped his head and headed toward the door. As he reached for the handle, he paused again. “Oh—Dawson? I thought you should know that I told public works the channel markers from forty-one to forty-six need repainting. Faded to hell. Nearly put some idiot tourist in the mangroves last week.”
Buddy’s pulse raced, but he didn’t move. Instead, he processed the information.
Red and green channel markers. Not blue.
But still.
“I know, but thanks. I’m pretty sure both Fletcher and Keaton have spoken to them as well. Keaton said he’d paint them personally.”
“Just out of curiosity,” Buddy said. “Where are those channel markers?”
“Forty-one’s at the mouth of the channel into the bay. Forty-two is between the marina and Crab Shack. The rest move into the Glades toward Snake River.” Silas glanced between Buddy and Dawson. “Anything else?”
Buddy shook his head.
“We’re good for now,” Dawson said.
Silas left, the door clicking shut behind him.
Buddy’s pulse clicked higher.
Blue 42.
A call at the line. A shift. A signal before the play changes.
And now—a channel marker.
Right between the marina and the Crab Shack.
Part of Fallon’s work patrol. Part of where she’d spent her entire life. Her sanctuary.
Tessa’s last shift.
Could it be the place where everything began?
A cold, clean line sliced through his mind—clarity he didn’t want but couldn’t ignore.
He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. Not yet. He let Dawson and Chloe shuffle papers. Let Flagler rub his temples. Let his brain put the pieces in a line he wished didn’t make sense.
“Buddy?” Chloe placed a warm hand on his forearm. “When you go quiet and still like this, your brain is turning something over. What is it?”
Buddy scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “I think I know what Blue 42 means.”
“We’re listening,” Dawson said.
“Keaton was right. It’s an audible change. I know Simon’s behind bars and—”
“He’s refusing to speak to me, but word has it, he’s not running anything. That no one will talk to him from the outside,” Flagler said. “That he’s been blackballed from what was left of his own network.”
“That may be true. But someone who either worked with him or knows him is making a play change to get me to come out and run defense.” Buddy generally didn’t like to speak in analogies, but this prick didn’t give him a choice.
“Blue could mean a lot of things, and whoever this is, knows it. That means they know Simon. They also know things about me. About the trafficking pipeline I shut down. But more than letting me know the game’s changed, they were indicating a location in that statement. ”
Flagler straightened. “The channel markers that Silas just referenced?”
“Marker 42 is between the Crab Shack and the marina,” Buddy said.
“I bet if you stand where the jacket was found the day after Tessa went missing and looked out at the channel, you’d be staring dead center at channel marker 42.
They’ve known all along about Tessa and Fallon, and that makes me wonder about a few things. ”
“Jesus.” Chloe exhaled. “I’ve struggled with whoever this guy is using Fallon to get your attention. Tessa isn’t related to your case. But it’s all blending together, and that doesn’t feel right.”
“Agreed.” Dawson frowned. “Not to put your personal life under fire, but you and Fallon, from all the chatter that's landed on my ears, didn’t start seeing each other until after Fallon found the first victim.”
“That’s true. But we’ve been friends for a long time, and we’ve been in contact with each other for years.
However, that’s not the point. If the case I closed is somehow connected to Tessa, then whoever this is would’ve fucked with Fallon regardless of whether or not I spent the night at her house just because she’s here and so am I. ”
Buddy shook his head, slow and grim. “This asshole is letting me know that I was only quarterbacking for part of the game, and that game isn’t over—because I can’t possibly save them all.
” The back of his neck prickled. His chest tightened.
“And he’s reminding Fallon it could’ve been her.
And no matter how much awareness and money she raises, she can’t bring Tessa back, and she can’t stop this from happening to others. ”
He heard his old instructor’s voice from Quantico in the back of his skull. When a predator knows your history, he weaponizes it.
Dawson leaned forward. “Are you saying that Tessa Blake was trafficked through the same or similar pipeline as the one you shut down? That maybe this would’ve always found its way to my town?”
“I don’t believe this guy would be here without me,” Buddy said.
“I’m the catalyst. Me moving here gave him more to work with regarding what happened with Tessa.
He can weaponize both, putting me not only on the defensive but also in the role of protector.
Blue 42 is also him saying, ‘I know where your blind spot lives’.
” Abruptly, he began to pace. He needed to move.
To think. He’d brought this right to everyone’s doorstep.
To Fallon. Now, he had to find a way to stop it before anyone else went missing.
Or died.
“I don’t like it when you scuff floors,” Chloe said. “It means you’re not only pissed off, but you’re on edge, and not in a good way.”
He paused and shifted his gaze. “Before I left Jacksonville to open this office, I begged my boss to relocate. I worked him hard for this location. Everyone busted my ass because they figured it had to be because of a woman. They couldn’t believe I willingly wanted to move to a small town like Calusa Cove.
Not when I could live in Miami. Fort Lauderdale.
Or even Tampa. Hell, I could’ve gone northwest to Destin or Pensacola.
But if I was gonna do it, it had to be this town, or nowhere at all. ”
“And why was that?” Dawson asked. “Were you and Fallon—”
“No,” Buddy said swiftly. “But we’ve kept in touch.
Spoken to each other on the phone. Texted, and some of the messages might be considered explicit.
” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Before I moved, we hadn’t seen each other since the grand reopening of the Crab Shack.
But I was there. I flirted with Fallon, and she flirted back.
I thought about her. About something happening, but it didn’t.
However, I want you to think about that timeline for a second.
” Buddy cocked his head, glancing around the room.
Dawson’s body went rigid.
Chloe’s jaw slacked open.
Flagler exhaled, loudly, as he fell back in the chair. “Jesus. You were still with the FBI—working that case.”
“I was knee deep in it, and there was a very real part of me that didn’t think I should come—considering the operation and where it was heading,” Buddy said.
“But I did, and it's very possible someone was watching, keeping track of the people I got close to here. I’ve also made donations to Tessa’s Project since I learned about it.
If someone’s been tracking me and my ties to Calusa Cove, it’s possible they’ve also been tracking Fallon. ”
“How often did you and she communicate?” Chloe asked.
“After the grand opening, it was probably four or five times a week for close to a year. But I felt like I was leading her on, and the case was getting difficult, so things slowed down. It became more of us checking in with each other. More of a proof of life kind of thing.” Buddy leaned against the desk.
“Fallon’s gonna kill me, but I started only texting at work, to keep myself from making inappropriate remarks. ”
“Audra would hog tie me and feed me to the gators if I said anything.” Dawson stuffed his hands in his pockets.
“Any chance someone at the Aegis Network could be dirty?” Flagler asked.
“Doubtful, but I suppose anything’s possible.” Buddy rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll have Logan Sarich and his wife, Mia, out of the Orlando office, check into it. They worked with Fletcher—”
“I know them well.” Dawson nodded. “I’d trust the Sarich brothers with the lives of my kids. They’re about as solid as they come.”
Flagler stood, glancing at his watch. “I best get going. Check in with me regularly. I’ll do the same.”
“Thanks for coming.” Dawson opened the door, stepping aside, then tugged it closed. He leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “Do you remember Bingo?”
“The dock hand that worked for Baily?” Buddy asked. “Didn’t he join the Navy?”
“He did.” Dawson nodded. “He’s in SEAL training. He turned out to be quite the young man. We’re very proud.”
“I bet,” Buddy said. “I remember he was pretty protective of Baily.”
“He views her like a big sister.” Dawson dropped his arms to his side and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Anyway, he’s coming back to town for the fundraiser. Fallon doesn’t know. He wants to surprise her.”
“That’s nice. I’m sure she’ll love it.” It always amazed Buddy how close this community was—even after residents left—they were still part of the town.
“How’s Fallon holding up with all that’s been happening?” Chloe gathered all the papers and the file and neatly stacked them in the corner of the table.
Buddy swallowed, a knot forming hard and unmovable in his chest. “She’s tough. One of the toughest women I’ve ever known. But she’s… she’s showing cracks.”
“Understandable,” Dawson said.
Buddy stared at the wall as if he could see right through it and into the water beyond.
“She and Cullen could’ve died in that fire in the Glades.
She almost got shot, but instead, Trent took that bullet for her.
Someone left that note at her house. Sent that jacket to the marina.
Every hit keeps landing on her—but something tells me the messaging is meant for me.
” He exhaled. Slow. Controlled. Not enough.
“I’m worried and not in the conventional way.
Not in the way that gets my hair standing on end during a case.
It’s more than whatever our unsub is doing now…
but what he’s planning next because this is no longer just a case. It’s personal.”
Dawson drummed his fingers once on the table. “I keep circling back to you and Fallon and what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come to Calusa Cove.”
“Fallon’s life would’ve gone on as usual. Her fundraiser would’ve continued. And there’d be no clues as to what might’ve happened to Tessa. And I’d still be dealing with this, but the audible call would be different. The game slightly different.”
“So, Blue 42 is still a taunt, regardless of what it means.”
“No.” Buddy shook his head. “It’s worse.”
They all looked at him.
Buddy lifted the old folder with Fallon’s name scrawled in the corner.
“It’s the starting point. Whoever’s doing this knew Simon.
Probably did business with him, and I screwed that up.
But I’m thinking this whole thing is bigger.
Broader. That the second I came to Calusa Cove, I triggered something.
That maybe I just reminded them of a girl they stole in the night and a woman who’s trying to keep her memory alive. ”
And for the first time since he’d stepped into the room, Buddy felt the familiar weight settle in—determination sharpened by dread.
He wasn’t just hunting a trafficker now.
He was hunting a man using the past as a blueprint.
His past.
Fallon’s.
Tessa’s.
And the girls he couldn’t save.
He reached for the folder, opened it, sighed, then closed it, reverently, like closing a wound. “We need to move fast,” he said, voice steady but dark. “Because whatever this jerk is trying to say, he’s not done talking.”