Page 60 of Betrayal In Calusa Cove
But the man hadn’t missed.
Not entirely.
Fletcher wondered if he’d aimed for the arm on purpose.
Dawson tapped a pen against the tabletop with a rhythm that bordered on irritating. Which, Fletcher knew, was the point.
“So,” Dawson said, his tone casual, as usual. It was Dawson’s style. Not much rattled the man, and if it did, he rarely let it show. At least not with a suspect. “We found your perch. You built a nice little nest up there. Perfect view of the ridge. A little off the main path, but not too far for a clean shot. You a hunter, or just enjoy creeping in the woods with a rifle?”
Silence.
The man stared ahead, unmoved and unfazed.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or did the Barbaros tell you to keep your mouth shut?”
Nothing.
Fletcher shifted his stance and stepped closer. “You know, I was trying to figure out your angle. You could’ve killed me. You didn’t. Which means you weren’t trying to. Which means you’re either not a murderer, or you were sent to deliver a message.”
Dawson clapped his hands once, loudly, making the man blink. “That’s it, isn’t it? You were hired to send a message. A simple one. Scare the pretty girl. Put the town on edge. Stir up a little chaos. Then sit back and watch what we do in the wake of all that chaos.”
Still, the man said nothing.
Dawson leaned in. “The thing is, my friend here doesn’t scare easy. And neither does the woman you were trying to rattle. So, you might want to consider talking before the Barbaros decide you’re a liability for not finishing the job because we both know what happens to liabilities.”
That got a twitch of the eyes.
Just a flicker, barely noticeable. But it was there.
Fletcher took a step closer and opened the folder Dawson had placed on the table. He pulled out the folded photo Dawson had printed off. It was a wide-angle shot from the park ranger’s trail cam. The man in the photo, aiming a rifle. Clear as day. He slapped it on the table. “What’s your name?”
The man stared at the photo.
“You talk to us,” Fletcher said, voice low, steady. “Or we let your employers think you already have because we have friends in high places who can find out who you are, and we can deliver our own message. Which would you prefer?”
The man’s lips parted. “I’m not afraid of you,” he said.
“Okay.” Dawson rifled through the folder until he found an image of the Barbaros. “But you should be afraid of them. Afraid of what they’ll do to you or your loved ones. Now you can cooperate with us, and we’ll protect you. Or we can feed you to the wolves. It’s your call.”
The man shifted his gaze between Dawson and Fletcher. “You’re right. It wasn’t a kill order.”
Dawson shot Fletcher a look. “Progress. Now tell me who gave you that order. I need you to say it.”
“A man I only knew as Oliver. Said he worked for the Barbaros. Said the woman had been causing problems. That hurting her wasn’t the goal. I was to make her feel vulnerable. Unsafe. That hurting him would make her weigh her options more carefully as the Barbaros moved ahead with their plans.”
Fletcher clenched his jaw. “You could’ve missed. I wasn’t standing still. You could’ve hit something vital.”
The man nodded. “But I didn’t. I’m good at what I do. I waited for the right time. Only mistake I made was following orders by sitting around and watching because Oliver failed to mention that the parks and rec guy would call for the police chief and some trained military sniper guy.” The man rubbed his thigh. “I still need medical attention.”
“The EMTs took a look at that.” Dawson waved his hand. “Flesh wound. Barely a scratch.” Dawson crossed his arms and leaned back. “What about the poison?”
He blinked, jerking his head back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The hit on Decker? The man enjoying lunch at Massey’s Pub,” Dawson said. “How do you explain that?”
The man shook his head slowly. “I didn’t have anything to do with that. They never said a word about any other guy I was supposed to deal with. Just the parks and rec man. The Barbaros... They don’t let the left hand know what the right one’s doing. Layers on layers. You’re just a cog in the wheel.”
Fletcher leaned forward. “Why take the job? You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who takes orders easily.” Not that he had any insight into this guy, but he thought he’d take a stab in the dark. It couldn’t hurt.
