Page 56 of Betrayal In Calusa Cove
“Just a flesh wound.”
“Right, because a bullet going in one side of your biceps and coming out the other end isn’t a big deal.” Dawson lifted his gaze, waving a hand. “At least Hayes didn’t kill the asshole, so now I get to have some fun and question him.”
Fletcher grunted. “I want to be there.”
“I can let him stew in a cell while you get that cleaned out and stitched up.” Dawson took off his jacket, ripped off a piece of his shirt, and tied off Fletcher’s upper arm.
“Hey,” Remy called. “Tully and I did a sweep. We didn’t see anyone else. Thanks to a rainy winter, we did see tracks. One set. Leading right to the tree where Hayes took out the shooter. That’s it, other than Fletcher’s tracks.”
“Good. Now go read that jerk-off his rights and haul his ass to the station. I’m gonna take this guy to the hospital.”
“You got it, boss,” Remy said.
Fletcher dropped his head against the tree trunk.
“You’re looking a little pale there, buddy.” Dawson applied more pressure to the wound. “Should I call an ambulance?”
“No.” Fletcher sat up taller, taking Dawson’s hand, and with some effort, he stood. His legs were wobbly and his brain foggy. But he’d had to deal with far worse and walked a longer distance to receive help.
Dawson’s phone buzzed. He checked the screen. “It’s Keaton.” He answered with a clipped, “Yeah?”
Fletcher couldn’t hear the words, but he saw Dawson’s expression tighten as they moved as swiftly as Fletcher could handle down the path.
“What?” Dawson paused mid-step. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Another long moment stretched. “Okay, heading there now with Fletcher. See you soon.” Dawson hung up and turned. “Decker collapsed while eating a burger at Massey’s Pub. Keaton was there with him. Said one minute he was eating dinner, pretending to argue with Keaton, just in case someone from that damn boat parade was a plant, the next he was gasping for air like his lungs stopped working. EMS got him stabilized, but they’re running tests.”
“He’s too young to have had a heart attack,” Fletcher said, ignoring the throb in his arm. “Not to mention, someone tried to drown Baily and kill me with a stray bullet. What just happened to Decker can’t be a coincidence.”
“That’s what Keaton believes. He said it looked like Decker was choking on nothing. Couldn’t breathe. Skin flushed. No obstruction. He suspects poison. His father-in-law’s girlfriend is running some tests…off the books.”
“That’s nice of Emily. She’s a good person and a great doctor.” Fletcher eyed the parking lot.
Dawson opened the passenger side of his new, fancy SUV, which had a big, old-dad vibe to it. “Add in my flat tire, which I bet when I take a good look at it, either someone simply let the air out or slashed it, and I’d say the Barbaros are escalating their timeline.”
“Or they’re feeling pressured.” Fletcher tugged at the tourniquet that Dawson had made. “But they’re not hitting the mark with these attempts, and they knew Ken. They’d have to know we don’t scare that easily.”
Dawson pressed the start engine button, turned the knob, shifted the car into drive, and pulled out of the lot. “Maybe it’s not about scaring us anymore. The damage to the hull of Baily’s boat was extensive. I’m surprised she got as far into the Glades as she did.” Dawson shifted his gaze. “These people are coming in for the kill.”
“That’s not too smart.”
“It is if they believe the language on the loan is buried. That no one knows about it.” Dawson drummed his fingers against the wheel. “Baily never discussed that with Julie. Barely brought it up with Ken because she’d been so fed up with his bullshit. Hell, the only reason we knew was because she finally realized we were on her side. Like Decker said a while ago, Julie believes Baily’s still pissed at the lot of us, and Decker played into that when he spoke to Tessa. But what I don’t get is why take out Decker? He’s their guy.”
“They lost faith in Decker. Wouldn’t be surprised if next week if we walk into that town meeting blindsided by a new guy. With new plans.” Fletcher shook his head, letting out a long breath. “They’ve moved on to whatever their Plan B is.”
“Well, then we need to get the town to move up their meeting.” Dawson slammed his fist on the steering wheel. “I know just the guy to go to the committee and ask for the meeting to be changed.”
“Silas,” Fletcher said.
“Yup.” Dawson nodded. “He’ll plead that the town needs to heal from the mess Paul and Dewey created. Silas will get them to hear us, and the Barbaros won’t be the wiser.”
“Especially since Decker’s the only one who showed any interest.” Fletcher nodded. “Good idea.” It wasn’t much. It was barely a plan. But it was a beginning, and that was something.
“Thanks, Silas.” Baily jumped from Silas’s beat-up old Jeep. Her heart thumped in the center of her chest hard and fast. Her palms were sweaty, and her mind raced with a million thoughts, and not a single one was good.
“I should walk you in,” Silas called. “Fletcher wanted eyes on you.”
“I’ll be fine. But you can text Fletcher and let him know I’m here.” Her sneakers hit the pavement, and she jogged toward the emergency room bay doors, growing breathless. She needed to take up something other than walking. That didn’t constitute exercise, no matter what anyone said.
The hospital hallway reeked of antiseptic and overcooked coffee. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting pale shadows across the linoleum floor as Baily stormed past the nurses’ station, her shoes clapping against the tile. She barely registered the soft murmur of voices behind curtains or the squeak of rubber soles. Her entire focus narrowed to the door at the end of the hall—Room 212.
