Page 19 of Betrayal In Calusa Cove
Decker shrugged. “I get it. Everyone and their brother are curious about whether or not I’m gonna put in a bid, and you boys are stirring up trouble about it, no doubt. Truth is, I haven’t decided anything.”
Keaton gave him a steady look. “Funny. Sounded like your friend had a few ideas.”
Decker’s grin didn’t quite reach his eyes. “He’s got ideas everywhere. Talks a big game. Rattles off a million and one things. His philosophy is you’ve got to toss five hundred darts into a black hole. One will land on something.”
“So, what are you shooting your darts at?” Fletcher asked.
“You just don’t quit, do ya?” Decker sighed. “Look. Yeah, sure, we both know I’m interested in the old Crab Shack property. That doesn’t mean I’m going to bid on it. I’m not even sure I’ve got a workable idea. One that the town would even consider, which means I’ve got some thinking to do. Not to mention, I’ve got other projects lined up, and the timing could all be wrong.”
“And you could be playing us right now. Trying to catch us off guard. Make us think we’ve got this in the bag, but then you swoop in and steal it out from under us,” Fletcher said.
“Wow, man. You’ve got some serious trust issues.” Decker tapped his fingers on the table. “I’ve got to get going. You two fellas have a nice day.”
Fletcher leaned back, letting the chair creak. “You do the same.”
“Maybe I’ll stop by the marina. See how Baily’s doing.” Decker nodded once and walked away.
Fletcher pressed his hands on the wooden top and stood.
“Don’t,” Keaton said firmly. “Not worth having to call Dawson here because you let your fists get the better of you, especially because Decker only said that to needle you.” Keaton leaned forward. “Just like you commented about Baily making you a treat this morning to see if you could rattle him. You’re better than that.”
“I know.” Fletcher eased back into the chair. “But what I wouldn’t give to feel my knuckles connect with his flesh.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Keaton dunked a fry in ketchup. “That guy oozes snake oil and gym memberships.”
Fletcher snorted, lifting his iced tea. “Yeah, but even snakes strike when the grass gets quiet. We need to find out who that other guy was.”
Keaton wiped his fingers and tossed the napkin onto the plate. “On it. I’ll call Chloe. If she can’t get a line on him, she’ll call her old partner, Buddy.”
They paid their tab and stood, stepping off the porch into the Florida sun, the scent of saltwater and Spanish moss thick in the air.
As Fletcher made his way to his truck, he felt something settle uneasily in his gut. Like maybe the tide was turning—and it wasn’t in their favor.
Baily sat with her legs dangling off the edge of Fletcher’s dock, the soft ripple of the water beneath her toes lulling her into a quiet calm. The sky was painted in watercolor streaks of lavender and blush, and the sun slipped low behind the mangroves. The air smelled of brine and wild sage, the kind of scent one could only get living on the edge of the Everglades.
Fletcher sat beside her, knees bent, bare feet resting on the sun-warmed wood. He passed her a cold bottle of sweet tea and clinked his own against it. “To surviving the week.”
Baily smirked. “It’s only Wednesday.”
“Exactly.”
They sat in companionable silence for a minute, watching a gator slink lazily through the channel, its tail swirling gently above the waterline. A heron lifted from the reeds nearby, wings wide, its shadow stretching across the dock.
She’d always loved evenings like this. As a kid, she used to sit on the docks of the marina, watching the sunset, enjoying the quiet stillness that Calusa Cove offered. This had always been home. She’d never had dreams of seeing the world. Of being anywhere else. Her friends, including Audra, had spoken of venturing off into lands unknown. Having wild adventures. Careers that brought them across the globe, offering something that this patch of land couldn’t.
It had been something Baily couldn’t fathom. Still couldn’t.
And it had broken her heart when the man she loved had walked away. They’d tried to survive it. Muddled their way through boot camp and a few years of writing letters, visits between deployments, which had turned into arguments about the future. Not so much about her leaving, though there were talks about that, because Fletcher had always believed they could come back. That someday he’d leave the Navy. But he’d always pushed that date out. And then, of course, her father had died, changing everything.
“You’re deep in thought,” Fletcher said.
“Just trying to ignore the pending doom and enjoy what makes me love this place.”
“It is magical,” Fletcher said. “No place on earth like it.”
“And yet, you left,” she whispered, keeping her gaze on the alligator—the one everyone called Captain. She knew it was Captain because he had a big scar on his back, probably from a boat propeller. He was at least twelve to fourteen feet long and always minded his own business. The people of Calusa Cove joked that he watched out for their quiet little town. That he patrolled the waters, a point that seemed to be driven home harder lately, as Captain had been seen more often since Paul Massey and Dewey Hale had turned on the town. It was as if Captain had grown tired of being betrayed by its own.
Fletcher tilted her face with the palm of his hand.
