Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Fallon opened the front door of Buddy’s rental before Keaton could knock a second time. He stood on the porch in his FWC greens, shoulders tight, gaze sweeping her face with that quiet, assessing steadiness she’d come to rely on.
“How ya doing?” he asked.
“Better than Buddy,” she said. “He’s obsessing. Combing through paperwork. Pacing. Mumbling. Everyone else is outside while he’s in his office making himself crazy.”
Keaton ran his fingers through his wavy hair. “He came in hot this afternoon, not only demanding I tell him exactly where you were in the Glades, but that I give you the rest of the day off.”
“You humored him.” She pursed his lips.
“Flying glitter caught everyone’s attention.”
“That was weird—and concerning,” she admitted, leading Keaton through the narrow living room. “There’s beer, soda, and snacks outside. Just waiting on a few stragglers.” The house seemed smaller with each step. She slid open the back door, letting the damp night air spill around them.
“You okay?” Keaton curled his fingers around her forearm.
“Define, okay?” She winced. Keaton was her boss. He might appreciate her sarcasm on occasion, but now was not the time. “It’s been a long few days.”
“Want to talk about it?” He leaned against the wall near the sliding glass doors that led to the patio.
She’d never been one to dump her problems on other people. She certainly didn’t ramble about her relationships with her boss. However, everything about this situation was different. “Buddy’s completely on edge. Like unraveling-on-edge, and I don’t know how to talk him off the ledge.”
“Same way you talked Trent down when some idiot tried to block off Mallor’s landing.
” Keaton smiled. “A lot has happened. Buddy’s past case and what happened to your friend have collided in ways we don’t fully understand yet.
And with you at the middle of it, well, Buddy’s just doing what any normal human does when someone they care about is being threatened. ”
“I don’t know how to help him.” She glanced over her shoulder.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Buddy step into the doorway of his office, then disappear just as quickly as he continued to pace.
“Ever since he picked me up at the docks, he’s had this fire in his eyes.
I’ve never seen him like this before. Not even when he was working the Ring Finger case.
” She caught a glimpse of Buddy, standing in his office, holding a file, rubbing his temple.
“It’s killing me to watch him torture himself. ”
“He’s been carry guilt and grief a long time, just like you.” Keaton lowered his chin. “You want to help him? Start by showing him how to let go of the past by doing it yourself.”
The words landed on her ears like a slap.
"You've done incredible work. Raised awareness and money. But those weeks leading up to it? The days after? You bury yourself in it, and it’s hard for anyone to really reach you.
" He titled his head. “The rest of the year? I don’t believe you need me telling you that you lock up that piece, keeping it close, as if it will protect you from ever feeling that rawness again. Only—”
“It lives there all the time,” she finished his statement. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard this. And he was right. God, she hated that he was right. “I use it like Trent uses his alligators and snakes. It keeps people from getting toon close and seeing all of me.”
“I was going to say it a little differently, but yeah, that’s about it.
” Keaton rubbed his chest—that gesture he did when thinking about his late fiancée.
"Grief ran my life for years. I didn’t know that’s what I was doing until I nearly lost the best thing that ever happened to me.
" He shifted his gaze down the hallway. “I can see how much you care about Buddy, and I know he’s got it bad for you. But he’s stuck somewhere between what he wants and what he believes he can have.
” Keaton turned. “So are you. Now, what are you going to do about it?”
Fallon sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
This was something she’d normally respond to by handing out a laundry list of reasons why she was so happy with her life.
That she was living it exactly the way she wanted.
Silas once told her that if she had to explain it, she was not only lying to the world, but to herself.
“You’re not arguing with me.” Keaton smiled. Not a big one. More like a knowing twitch of the corners of his mouth. But she caught it.
“Since when did get so wise?”
“I let go of the past, and my future walked in.”
She laughed. Not hard. But the vibration of it in her throat settled her emotions. “That had to be the corniest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Maybe. But it’s truth.” He reached for the handle on the sliding glass door.
“He needs get through the case. We all do. Catch this asshole and put this part behind us. Then, both of you can release all the things that have prevented you from moving forward. Sometimes, all it takes is the right person.” He pulled open the door.
The warm Florida breeze collided with the air conditioning like a wrecking ball crashing into a building. Hard, powerful, and full of destruction.
Keaton stepped out to the back patio and joined Hayes, Chloe, and the weight of a storm none of them could name yet.
Hayes leaned against the railing, arms folded, eyes trained on the dark backyard as if he expected trouble to materialize between the palmettos.
Keaton strolled across the patio, stood next to Hayes, and stared out toward the Glades.
Both men radiated protective energy—restless, focused, keyed to danger.
Chloe sat straighter than usual, tapping a pen against her thigh, scanning the pages of a notebook like vigilance was wired into her.
Fallon hovered at the sliding glass door, silently watching them , but her gaze kept drifting inside… to Buddy.
She heard his footsteps creaking on old floorboards.
He couldn’t go on like this much longer. She snagged a paper plate and a premade sandwich from the counter and made her way back to his office.
The space hadn’t been properly set up with a desk shoved inside—looking like the room was about to split at the seams. Stacks of files, crime scene photos, scribbled notes, old case printouts, Tessa’s file, Simon’s case summaries, maps, shipping receipts—everything he had jammed together in one suffocating room.
He’d stop. Lean over a file. Dig through pages. Flip a photo over. Mumble to himself. Then push off the desk and start pacing again, hands on his hips, jaw clenched hard enough to crack.
She didn’t knock.
He didn’t notice her presence until she stepped fully inside and set a plate on the desk.
Buddy jerked his head up—eyes sharp, shadowed, burning. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you don’t pass out.” Fallon nudged the plate closer. “Eat.”
“I can’t.” He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing again. “I can’t sit. I can’t eat. I can barely fucking breathe.”
She blinked. Hearing a grown man swear wasn’t a big deal. She heard it every day. Hell, she used the word herself on a regular basis. But Buddy didn’t have much of a foul mouth. It was like he saved those words for specific occasions and certain people.
“Don’t make me tackle you, sit on you, and force it down your throat, because I will.” She smiled, hoping that might ease the tension.
But it didn’t. If anything, the air grew thicker, as if the oxygen were slowly depleting, and soon, they’d both be gasping and fighting over the last bit.
He glanced between the sandwich, her, and the papers in his hands.
The papers won. “Thanks to Decker, we know that EJV Industries, LLC, which is part of Bluewater Restoration and Blue Heron Boat Tours is owned by EJ Vance. But that means nothing to me except that both Decker and his cousin say this EJ guy had a reputation years ago in Miami as an up-and-coming gangster. Decker’s cousin wouldn’t say who he worked for, but that EJ had big plans.
However, I can’t seem to connect him to Simon, and Simon won’t talk to Flagler, me, or anyone else for that matter.
No one from his ring will have any contact with law enforcement.
Not even for a reduced sentence.” Buddy leaned against the corner of the desk.
“I had Mia start a check on this Vance guy. So far, he’s clean.
Too clean. Weirder still, she can’t find a single image of him on the internet, or any company directory anywhere. It’s like he’s a fucking ghost.”
“Why don’t you take a breath. Eat some food. And come outside,” she said softly. “Keaton just arrived. We can talk through this—”
“Something’s going to happen tomorrow.” His voice cracked low, gutted, raw. “Everything points to a major event tomorrow.”
Tears burned the corners of Fallon’s eyes. “We don’t know that.”
“Yes,” he snapped, turning on her. “We do.” He straightened and moved across the floor in a swift, military-like precision.
His eyes were a storm—anger, fear, determination, guilt, churning together in a chaotic mix she’d never seen before.
He braced both hands on the back of his chair and bent his head.
“If I don’t figure this out before tomorrow, someone is going to die,” he whispered.
“Either you… or some random young girl who shows up to honor Tessa.”
Her heart punched her chest.
“And it’ll be my fault.”
“I understand why you’d feel that way and sure, we need to be prepared. That’s why all our friends are here. Why Dawson is assigning as much manpower as he has and even calling in a few favors. But we don’t know what’s coming or when.”
Buddy lifted his gaze. Darkness lurked behind his intense dark eyes. “I know exactly what’s coming, and I know what he wants.” He raised a single brow. “You want the truth?” The force of his stare nearly knocked her backward. “I can’t choose. It’s a lose-lose situation.”