Page 5 of Betrayal In Calusa Cove
Baily jumped to her feet and grabbed Fletcher’s arm. “What happened? Is Bingo okay? He was scheduled to open the docks and marina this morning. I’m usually down there pretty early.” She turned, bent over, and snagged her cell, staring at the screen. “It’s just six, so we’re literally just opening now,” she said. “Crap, my phone must be on silent because Bingo tried to text me twice and he called once.”
“He also knocked on the upstairs apartment before he waved me down,” Dawson said. “The lock on the pump wasn’t secure when he got to the docks this morning, and now there’s no gas. Bingo swears he locked it last night. I’d like your permission to look at the security cameras.”
“Yeah, of course.” She let out a long breath. “I can’t function without gas going into the weekend, and I don’t know if I can get a rush delivery,” she said. “Much less afford it.” She rubbed her temples. “Bingo might be a young kid, but he’s one of the best, hardworking people I have. I can’t imagine he’d just plumb forget.”
“Are you still keeping the cameras running all the time?” Dawson asked.
“I check them every few days,” she said. “It’s not the most high-tech system, but it works, and Fletcher updates the software for me when necessary.”
Fletcher pulled open the door. “Let’s go take a look and see what it reveals.” He had to agree with her assessment of Bingo. He wasn’t the kind of kid who made a big mistake like that. However, things happened, mistakes were made, but even if he had forgotten to lock up the pump, it didn’t explain how close to five thousand gallons of gas had vanished into thin air.
Chapter 2
The marina office always smelled like salt, sweat, and engine grease. Normally, that scent grounded Baily. This morning, it made her stomach twist.
She leaned over Fletcher’s shoulder, watching Dawson poke at the keyboard with the slow, deliberate energy of a man who would rather be wrestling a gator than troubleshooting outdated surveillance software. Dawson was a good man—a sarcastic man—but a decent and kind one. He was always there when you needed him, and sometimes when you didn’t.
Baily thought that when Dawson and Audra had married, it might change Dawson. But it hadn’t. Not one bit. He was still the easy-going, laid-back, not much rattled him, good-natured, with a wicked sense of humor guy she’d always known him to be. But at the same time, Dawson wasn’t the kind of person anyone should mess with, and not just because he was a police officer, sworn to protect the good citizens of Calusa Cove.
Tension filled her muscles as each screen flickered with static or blinked to black. One feed glitched with a frozen frame from yesterday around midnight. Another offered nothing but an ominous blue screen.
“Well, crap,” Dawson muttered. “Every file from last night is either corrupted, overwritten, or just... gone.” He picked up his cell and glanced at the screen. “Hayes is down at the docks with Chloe. The camera by the fuel pump? Fried. Literally. Looks like someone took a blowtorch to the wiring.”
Baily stepped back, heart hammering against her ribs. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She hugged her middle. The realization that someone had been lurking around her marina in the middle of the night made her shiver.
Fletcher looped an arm around her waist, drawing her close. Normally, this was the moment she’d push him away. When she’d resent him for just being there, as if she shouldn’t rely on his strength like he hadn’t broken her heart—more than once.
But right now, she needed something…she needed him.
“I’m not,” Dawson said dryly, his voice like sandpaper wrapped in velvet. “I save my jokes for when five thousand gallons of gas aren’t missing, and no one’s sabotaged your security system—because this was done by someone who knew a little bit about how your system works and knew how to make my job nearly impossible.”
“You’re telling me someone broke in, stole fuel, destroyed my cameras, and left zero evidence behind?” she asked with a shaky voice. “All while I was sleeping.”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Dawson said, swiveling the chair left and right. “I need to look around more. I need to get Remy out here. This is now a crime scene. Unfortunately, this doesn’t feel like a couple of teenagers messing with the cameras. From what I’ve seen so far, it appears methodical. A little too fast and a little too clean. Not to mention, whoever did this knew that dumping the gas on a weekend when you’d have a lot of traffic could have the potential to bury you.” He gave a soft snort. “Hell, if I didn’t know better, I’d say they had inside knowledge. But your staff is local, loyal, and I ran the background checks on every single one of them during the last two big cases we had.”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she muttered. “If they just dumped the gas, wouldn’t we see it in the water?”
“No sign of it there,” Dawson said. “But you both would’ve heard a truck pull in here if they’d removed it that way.”
“We might not have heard a boat if they came in at idle speed, or with engines cut all together,” Fletcher said. “That almost happened once a long time ago.”
“I remember that,” she said. “It was about two years after you left for the Navy. My dad caught someone messing with the tanks. They’d come in by boat. By the time Tripp got here, they were gone, and the Coast Guard never found them. The marina up by Marco Island reported a break-in that week, but nothing about someone trying to steal gas.” Her eyes burned as she did a mental count of the cash on hand and what she had in the bank. She might be able to cover a gas delivery, but it would be the rush fees that killed her. However, what was worse was the ripple effect. She was always stealing from one fund to pay for something else.
Her credit was maxed out. Her savings completely depleted. She’d had to admit she could no longer do this on her own, and that reality hit her like a bullet between the eyes.
Fletcher turned to her, gripping her shoulders, eyes narrowed, voice gentle. “You okay?”
“No,” she said, sharper than she meant to. She forced a breath through her nose and softened her tone. “I can’t afford this, Fletcher. Not now. Not after everything. I was barely staying ahead, and now this?” She gestured toward the blank screens. “This could sink me. I’m up to my eyeballs in debt. I’m still paying off the new docks and repairs to the launch. I had to take out a loan to do that. I didn’t have a choice. The town… the fines… and then there’s the…” She let the words trail off and turned away from them both, staring at the faded logbook on her desk like it might magically offer a solution. Shame crept up her spine, mingling with frustration. The marina was all she had. It was her father’s legacy, her brother’s history, and it was her daily battle. Every dollar she earned went back into keeping it running. Into keeping it hers. She barely had enough to buy groceries when all was said and done. She went without so many things, and she gladly did so, because she’d always believed that, one day, she’d claw her way out of this mess.
But this morning, as the sun appeared bright and sharp over the Glades, she wasn’t so sure.
A few years ago, she’d sold the family home and moved into the apartment above the marina, but even that hadn’t been able to save her from mounting debt because her father had refinanced that damn house so many times there hadn’t been much equity left.
“Hey.” Flether’s hands ran up and down her arms like a soothing bubble bath. “We’ll figure it out. You’re not alone in this.”
“You say that, but it’s not true. This is my marina, and there isn’t anything you can do to stop what’s happening,” she snapped, then instantly regretted it. She rubbed a hand down her face. “I’m sorry. I just?—”
“You’re scared,” Fletcher finished. “I am also considering what just happened, but we’re here to help. I’m here, and I’ve got you. But you need to let me do more than repairs around the marina for free, or pay for a few odds and ends that don’t amount to much.”
