Chapter 4 #3
“I’ll check into it,” Dawson said. "I'm contacting Chloe. I want her out here to process the scene properly. And I want you—" he pointed at Trent "—to make me a list of anyone else that might want to mess with you. I know you’ve been on the right side of things for a few years now, but we both know when I first blew into town, you weren’t always a law-abiding citizen.”
“My mom would take offense to that statement,” Trent said.
He was grateful that Chloe Fraiser-Bennett would be on the case with Dawson.
She was former FBI, which should make him twitchy since she all but accused him of murder once, but it didn’t because it was Chloe—the wife of local firefighter Hayes Bennett, and they didn’t get any better than him. Or Dawson, for that matter.
Dawson chuckled. “I need to know who might want to come after you besides Karl.”
He tapped his fingers on his phone, then paused. "I'm sorry about the gator. I know she meant something to you."
Trent didn't trust himself to respond. He’d been born and raised on Mallor’s Landing.
It represented three generations of Mallors.
Three generations of families who loved and respected the Everglades.
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the flyer that had been burning a hole in his back pocket.
“What about Sovereign Resources and their desire to mine limestone near my land? Do you think they could have anything to do with what happened tonight?”
“My wife is losing her shit over this. As is half the town.” Dawson glanced at the paper before handing it back.
“This morning, a petition showed up at Mitchells Marina, which I signed. But I was surprised to hear that some people support this. All made worse by Stacey Wilkerson, local pretend reporter and big-time gossiper, going around interviewing people who support this senator who seems to support mining.”
“Garrett Dutton,” Trent said. “Former US Marshal, and it concerns me because it will be right next to my property.”
Dawson rubbed his chin. “Anything is possible, but I have to ask. Why would Sovereign Resources sneak onto Mallor’s Landing? Besides the fact that it’s next to where they want to mine, what’s here that they’d want?”
“I don’t know.” Trent shrugged. “But my land is a natural habitat for wild animals. That could mean something.”
“It might. Let me check with Fish and Wildlife as well as Parks and Rec,” Dawson said.
“But right now, I’ve got little to no reason to be asking anyone from that company questions, and like I’ve told my wife and Silas Monroe, while I don’t want to see a limestone mining company come to this town, they aren’t the worst things in the world. ”
“Tell that to the Everglades and how it will change the ecosystem.” Trent kept his emotions in check.
He knew all too well how companies like Sovereign Resources would bring jobs and prosperity to a small coastal town.
But Calusa Cove was different. It was the bridge between the Gulf and the Glades.
Between civilization and nature. Between what once was, and how technology tends to destroy everything in its path.
“No one here will want any mining. Hell, we didn’t want that damn paper mill years ago.
They came, they polluted, and they left. ”
“I hear you. And I tend to agree,” Dawson said. “I’m just saying it’s going to be an uphill battle. But I’ll ask around.”
“Thanks.” It was all Trent could ask for.
“The Aegis Network can do some digging,” Dove said. “We can do things that law enforcement can’t.”
“Just don’t get in my way or make things difficult for me.
” Dawson looked between him and Dove. "I'm going to walk the perimeter one more time, see if I can locate what the intruders left behind. Chloe should be here shortly. We’ll do what we can tonight, but we’ll need to investigate the property again at first light.
” Dawson turned and his footsteps faded into the darkness, his flashlight beam cutting through the trees as he headed back toward the water's edge.
Silence settled over Trent and Dove.
Trent stared at the moat. He’d lost many gators over the years. He’d had to kill a few, too. But to lose one like that? It broke his heart.
Dove didn't say anything. She just moved closer, until her shoulder pressed against his arm, solid and warm in the humid night air.
“I appreciate you offering to look into things, but money’s tight, and—”
“I’ll talk to Buddy,” Dove said. “I’m sure we can work something out. And if we can’t, I’ll do it on my own time.” She waved her hand toward the moat. “It’s not like you need my twenty-four-hour protection. You just need help figuring out who breached your property and why.”
“Thanks.” He looped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “You were on your way here tonight, weren’t you?” His voice came out rougher than he intended.
"In a moment of weakness because I was worried about you.”
He chuckled. “Right—worried—not something else.”
“Maybe a little something else.” She turned to face him, and in the dim light filtering from Dawson's vehicle, he could see the mud streaked across her cheek, the loose strands of hair clinging to her neck, the steady calm in her eyes. “I’m not leaving until the cops take off, and I’ll decide then if you’re really okay—you just had another loss. ”
"She was just a gator," he said, and hated how hollow the words sounded. "People kill gators all the time. It's—"
"Not to you." Dove's hand found his hand in the darkness, her fingers threading through his. "You raised her. You named her. You loved her. And some asshole shot her because she got in his way." Her grip tightened. "That matters. Your grief matters."
Trent stared at their joined hands. He couldn't remember the last time someone had held his hand and it meant something.
Anyone other than Fallon, anyway. "My mom used to say that the measure of a man wasn't how he treated people," he said quietly.
"It was how he treated the things that couldn't fight back.
Animals. Kids. The land." He swallowed. “Technically, Bonnie could fight back. But, she didn't even know she was supposed to, and she didn’t stand a chance against a gun.”
Dove stepped closer, rising on her toes, and pressed her lips to his cheek.
Soft. Brief. More comfort than kiss. "We're going to find out who did this," she said against his skin.
"And when we do, they're going to wish they'd never set foot on your land.
" She pulled back but didn't let go of his hand.
"Come on," she said. "Let's get you inside.
I'll pour us a drink. You'll make that list. And tomorrow, we start hunting. "
Trent looked back toward the water one last time. He couldn't see Bonnie's body from here, but he knew it was there. Floating in the shallows. But there was nothing he could do for her now.
He let Dove lead him across the bridge toward the house, her hand still wrapped around his.
The night had taken something from him. But it had reminded him of something, too.
He wasn't alone. Even when he wanted to be.
And whoever had come onto his land tonight—whoever had killed Bonnie and disappeared into the dark—they'd made a mistake.
They'd given him another thing to fight for.