Page 30 of Off the Hook

I shook my head. “This proves what Ialreadybelieved to be true.”

Coulter’s jaw tightened and he shook his head, huffing. “Don’t get me wrong…it’s a huge relief that this proves I didn’t do it. But what concerns me is that you guysstill have no idea who did.”

“We don’t, not yet. But this is a solid lead. And one that clears you. So can we just celebrate for a minute?” I flashed him a grin and turned up my beer.

“Cheers to that,” Coulter said with a smile, tipping his bottle toward me.

We both looked out over the canal, the sun just starting to ride low in the sky and emanating a pink orange hue that tinted everything it touched. For a couple of minutes we just soaked it all in, in silence. It wasn’t the least bit awkward or heavy. It was easy and free. I was still staring out over the cotton candy clouds when I finally said, “We'll find who did this.”

He reached over and squeezed my hand, sending a jolt straight up my middle. “Thanks for coming to tell me. It means a lot.”

His gaze held mine and I felt myself melting into a puddle before him. This was not good. I had to pull myself together. Clearing my throat, I forced my eyes from his trance, looking toward the sound of rub rails squeaking against the pilings. “Is this the boat you use for your charters?”

Coulter hesitated, letting the smile on his face speak for itself for a few seconds. He could tell I was flustered by him, andhe liked it. “I run a few boats out of the marina. This one is reserved for select loyal clients who love the backcountry.”

“Ah, so it’s a VIP experience?” I asked, my nerves easing a bit.

“Yeah, sort of. We try to treat our return clients like family. Seems to work.” He grinned before taking another swig of beer. “They keep coming back.”

Rodman Reels had been around for decades, I’d heard. They were one of the oldest fishing charter operations in the islands. True Conchs. “What year did your dad start the business?”

Coulter chuckled, his eyes sparking. “He’s the fisherman, but he doesn’t get all the credit. My mom was the brains behind the business. They bought the overgrown piece of land on the water that eventually became the marina in 1983. It was an equal partnership from the start.”

As interesting as I found his matriarchal family, my thoughts wandered to the stories I’d heard of the Keys in the early eighties. It was the time of cocaine cowboys, and when the renegade island chain seceded from the US and the Conch Republic was formed. “Must have been crazy living here back then.”

“It was still like the wild west,” he snickered. “Dad doesn’t like to talk about it. Mom wouldn’t either when we asked. I suppose they never wanted to glorify it.”

From what I’d heard, the business boom that followed the influx of drug money into the local economy was unprecedented—which made it impossible to know which of the new ventures was funded with dirty money. In the great boom, it went largely unchecked. The Rodman familymarina was one of the properties that people still whispered about today, though.

“Your parents built quite the operation there, didn't they?”

“Yeah,” he said, with both pride and sorrow in his voice. “They built it from the ground up. Worked their asses off, and then had a bunch of kids they could use for free labor for years.” Coulter laughed into the top of his beer bottle. “Dad couldn’t have done it without Mom. Somehow we’re managing without her now.” His chin dipped to hide his eyes that darkened with grief. So much grief this man had lived through.

“How long’s it been?”

“Nine months.”

“Rough year for you.” I reached my hand over to his hand that rested on his knee. “Losing two people that you loved.”

“Pretty damn rough.” He stared off at the sun that was dipping low to the west. “Maybe this year will be better than the last.” Turning his gaze back to me, his expression softened. “At least it’s starting with some good news,” he said with a hint of a smile that faded as fast as it had come. “Now if only you can find justice for Kylie.”

I patted his knee. “We’ll get to the bottom of it. I promise.”

He looked down at me, intent. “Faith, you give me hope.”

We both turned back to stare at the golden water, and I felt some semblance of hope too. This man was no longer a suspect. He was a man trying to find his way through the darkness. And I wanted to help him find the light.

CHAPTER 16

COULTER

The lights from the houses across the dark canal reflected off the water, creating an almost magical atmosphere. I reached into the cooler and pulled out another cold one, offering it to Faith. It seemed weird to celebrate that she now knew that someone else had killed Kylie, but my freedom from the number one suspect spot made this a celebration of sorts.

“Another beer?” I asked.

She took it, her fingers brushing against mine. “Sure, why not. I’m off duty.” She held it up, clinking it against my bottle. “Cheers.”

“Cheers to that.” I took a sip and leaned back, the cool breeze washing over me. “What do you like to do in your off time?”

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