by Tripp Ellis
“Why? I didn’t kill anyone,” JD protested.
“I need a statement from you, too."
"I'll give you a statement right now."
The sheriff’s eyes narrowed at him.
"Okay. Fine," JD relented with a heavy sigh.
He pushed away from the table and stood up. "If you'll excuse me, ladies and gentlemen."
"Do you want me to settle up with you now?" Lauren asked.
"If you'd like," JD responded.
She dug into her purse and wrote him a check for the charter.
“Thank you, kindly," JD said with a smile.
He looked at the check and stuffed it into his wallet.
Hope grabbed my hand as I started to leave. "You know how to find my Instabook page, don't you?"
"No, I don't think so.”
She told me her username. "DM me some time."
I wasn't much in the smiling mood, but a thin one pulled at the corner of my lips. "I just might."
As I left, I was given a standing ovation by the patrons. Their cheers and claps echoed throughout the restaurant.
JD and I took the Wild Tide, and we docked at the station. We both filled out incident reports. It was standard operating procedure.
My blood was drawn for a toxicology screening. I had alcohol in my system at the time of shooting, and I knew that wouldn't look good. But, I was off duty, technically.
I surrendered my weapon so the lab could check the function and examine the ammunition to see if it was in regulation. They’d run ballistics to match with the slugs found in the perp.
I knew this was going to be a big headache.
We sat in the conference room, writing the reports. Denise stopped by and poked her head into the room. "You want coffee or anything?"
"Coffee sounds good," I said with a smile.
“Me too,” JD said.
"Cream and sugar?"
“Absolutely,” I replied.
“Ditto,” JD said.
I had already been warned by Sheriff Daniels to stay away from Denise. She was a gorgeous redhead that I desperately wanted to see out of uniform. But I put that fantasy on hold.
The florescent lights buzzed overhead, and after 45 minutes of scribbling the incident report, I was more than ready to be done.
Paperwork was never my thing.
Denise returned with my coffee and I thanked her.
Daniels strolled into the room. "Are you almost done?"
I nodded.
He sat down next to me. "I need to give you a formal interview. Procedure. You understand."
We went over the incident step-by-step. He asked me several questions about what we had done earlier and if I had been drinking.
"As of now, you’re on administrative leave, pending investigation.”
“What about me?” JD asked.
“Did you shoot anyone?” Daniels asked with an air of condescension.
“No.”
“Then you’re not on administrative leave.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed at him.
“I don't anticipate a negative outcome, but keep it clean while the investigation is ongoing,” Daniels said. “I'm sure you’ve got plenty of things you'd rather do."
"So, off the record, do you want me to stop investigating?" I asked.
Daniels stared at me for a long moment. "You two have never listened to instructions in the past. I don't expect you to start now."
I tried to resist the sly grin that was forming on my lips.
"That being said, it’s probably best if you go by the book. With it being an election year, the department is under increased scrutiny. The media is trying to dig up anything and everything, looking for a story. In that regard, do not talk to the press about this."
“I’m not talking to anyone,” I said. “I’ve got no love for the press.”
Daniels rolled his eyes. “Really? Is that why you were all over the tabloids in Monaco not too long ago?”
“Extenuating circumstances. Comes with dating a movie star.”
Sheriff Daniels rolled his eyes. "Try to stay out of trouble."
“Run a background check on the perp,” I said. “Get a list of known associates.”
"I know how to do my job," Daniels growled.
"I want to bust his partner," I said
"You're on vacation, remember?" Daniels said. "Now go home."
There were a half dozen reporters outside the station waiting at the main entrance. It was a good thing we had taken the Wild Tide to the station. We wouldn’t have to deal with the horde of reporters. We’d sneak out through the back.
Or, so I thought.
As we stepped onto the dock, bright lights blinded us. Cameras and microphones were shoved in my face. Reporters shouted questions. They had snuck around to the back of the station.
"What can you tell us about the incident?"
"Was the suspect armed?"
"Do you think this was related to the murdered exotic dancer?"
15
JD plowed through the horde of reporters, and I followed behind. We boarded the Wild Tide, and I cast off the lines while JD cranked up the engine.
News crews hovered on the dock, filming us as we pulled away and idled out of the harbor.
We cruised back to the marina at Diver Down and tied off the boat. After I reconnected shore power and water, JD met me in the cockpit with a cold beer. We took a seat on the settee in the mezzanine and decompressed.
The night air was still, and the marina was quiet. JD turned on the stereo and kept it low enough that Mr. Miller wouldn't complain, hopefully. It was just past 10 PM. Still early. But Mr. Miller had a cow at any noise past 9 PM.
I opened the hatch to the salon, and Buddy joined us in the cockpit. I scooped him up, and he curled in my lap. I stroked his fur as I sipped on my beer.
JD's phone rang.
He looked at the screen and his face crinkled. “Who the hell is this?" he muttered.
He flashed the screen to me. "Do you recognize this number?"
I shook my head.
He was hesitant to answer the phone. It could have been any number of ex-wives or disgruntled girlfriends. I guess he was feeling lucky because he swiped the screen. "Hello?"
A female voice crackled through the speaker, but I couldn't make out what she was saying.
"Well, hello!” JD said in a pleasant tone. “How are you?"
The woman said something, I couldn’t hear what.
"Do you want to talk to him? He's right here." JD handed me the phone.
My face twisted. I mouthed, “Who is it?"
"You'll find out."
I put the phone to my ear. "Hello?"
"Hey, it's Hope!” she said in a cheery voice.
"Hey, what's going on?"
"Nothing. Just hanging out with Eliza. I didn't have your number, so I got JD's from Lauren. I hope you don't mind my calling?"
"No. Not at all. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, fine. Listen, we're at One Love. Do you want to come meet us for a drink?" she asked. "We had to get out and unwind after all that. It was pretty fucked up, and I think I'm a little traumatized."
“Yeah, we’ll meet you for a drink," I said.
"Yay! I feel like I need to hang around someone who can understand just how messed up tonight was."
"We'll see you in a few," I said.
I hung up and handed the phone back to JD.
"They want to have drinks," I said.
JD smiled. "Let's not keep them waiting."
I took Buddy for a walk, and afterward he was ready for a nap.
JD and I drove over to Oyster Avenue. The strip was fairly crowded for a Sunday night.
Every day was a weekend in Coconut Key.
One Love was a reggae bar, and smooth Caribbean music from the live band spilled into the street as we approached.
The band played on the back patio, and Hope had texted JD, saying they had a table outside.
There we
re surfboards on the walls and pictures of Bob Marley. We hit the bar before making our way to the patio. They had some of the best daiquiris on the island, but JD and I decided to stick with beer. We got two long necks in amber bottles and hit the patio. We found the girls and took a seat at their table that had an umbrella overhead.
The smell of ganja filled the air.
It was one of those bars where people didn't hesitate to spark up on the patio. In all my time in Coconut Key, I had never seen an officer make a bust here. It was sort of an unwritten rule.
The place had so much history, and the crowd was mostly locals.
Hope’s eyes brightened when she saw me. She gave me a hug. "Thanks for coming."
"My pleasure!”
"So, how are you doing?" she asked.
"I'm fine."
"Aren’t you freaked out?"
I shrugged. "No."
"But you killed somebody! You seem so calm."
"It's not the first time," I said dryly.
"I was so numb after it happened,” Hope said. “The whole thing seemed surreal. I didn't really start freaking out until we got back to the hotel."
"Yeah, we had to get out of that room,” Eliza said. "We needed to cleanse the palate. Put that behind us."
"I totally understand," I said. “High stress situations can get in your head and roll around in there for a while if you let them."
“That was a little more than high stress,” Eliza said.
"Do you think you’ll catch the other guy?" Hope asked.
I shrugged again. "Maybe not right away. But if he keeps stealing and doing stupid shit, he’s either gonna get himself killed or arrested."
“Enough business,” JD said. “Aren’t we supposed to be unwinding?”
I lifted my beer, and we all toasted.
Hope scooted her chair a little closer, and her blue eyes sparkled at me. Eliza seemed to be taking an interest in JD.
The night was shaping up rather well.
We hung out till closing, then brought the girls back to the boat, and the party continued. JD grabbed a few beers from the fridge and passed them out. He cranked up the stereo to a serviceable level, but it was still probably too loud for Mr. Miller at 2:30 AM.
Buddy joined the party and received a lot of attention from the girls.
I grabbed his leash and fixed it to his collar. "I need to take him for a quick walk."
"I'll go," Hope said.
I pulled open the hatch and let Hope step into the cockpit before me. Buddy was ready to get out and move around. I scooped him up, scaled the transom, then set him down on the wooden planks. We strolled down the dock toward his usual spot.
By the time we returned to the Wild Tide, JD and Eliza had mysteriously vanished.
"Looks like somebody's getting lucky," Hope said. She flung her arms around my neck and lifted up on her tiptoes. "I wouldn't want you to feel left out."
She planted her full lips against mine. They were soft and sweet and still had traces of her cherry lip gloss.
Buddy sat at her feet, watching.
I scooped him up, opened the hatch to the salon, and put him inside. "There. Now we have a little privacy. Where were we?"
We picked up where we left off, making out in the cockpit for all to see. But at this hour of the night, who was watching?
Our bodies mashed against each other, and my hands explored her elegant curves. She felt great, and her hair smelled divine.
She pushed me to the mezzanine, and I flopped on the settee. She climbed aboard, straddling my lap. Our hips ground together as we kissed passionately.
With a delicate touch, I pulled on the string that tied her bikini top. The fabric went slack, and her gravity defying breasts bounced free. I kissed her lips, her neck, her collarbone. My tongue traced across her smooth skin.
She moaned with pleasure as my mouth found the most delightful of places.
She dropped to her knees and tugged at my waistband. Before long we were committing indecent acts that were probably illegal in some states.
The boat gently rocked in the marina. I gathered JD was having his own fun down below.
Hope slithered up my body, pulled her shorts over her hips, and saddled up. Her breathy moans of ecstasy echoed across the water. We tried to be inconspicuous, but these things always have a way of being louder than you expect.
When it was all said and done, she collapsed on top of me, quivering, her body slick with sweat.
I decided we should probably take the party inside. We scooped our clothes from the deck, stepped into the salon, then sneaked down the starboard stairs to the master suite.
Round #2 was equally as fun.
I woke up the next morning with Hope’s naked body draped across me.
I was ready for Round #3.
She peeled open her sleepy eyes, stretched, and yawned. A bright smile curled on her gorgeous face. She purred, "Morning.”
"Morning." I smiled back.
Her smooth, tanned thigh rubbed against my hips, fueling my appetite.
"Is that for me?" she asked mischievously.
Before I could answer, she had already straddled me. I grabbed a handful of her round cheeks, and her long blonde hair tickled my face as she sunk into me.
A breathless moan escaped her lips.
It was a great start to what would become a terrible day.
16
We showered, got dressed, and were lured up to the salon by the smell of fresh coffee wafting through the air.
Bacon sizzled in a pan.
JD scrambled eggs and fried hash browns. He had a devilish glint in his eyes. "Morning.”
Eliza sat at the dinette with a sheepish look on her face.
"There must have been a hell of a storm that blew through last night," JD said. "This boat was rocking all night long."
I chuckled.
There was no storm.
We dished up and ate breakfast, drank orange juice, and crunched on crispy bacon. JD loved to cook, and he was pretty damn good at it.
"And what are you two ladies up to today?" JD asked.
They made sad faces.
"We have to go back to Miami. We have a casting this afternoon, and we’re both booked on a shoot tomorrow,” Hope said.
"Rough life," JD said.
"We'll come back and visit soon," Hope said. "If that's okay with you?"
"You're welcome anytime," I said.
I knew it was probably bullshit. I'd be surprised if we saw these girls again.
We finished breakfast, and the girls said goodbye. There were hugs and kisses and promises to reconnect.
JD and I stood in the cockpit, watching the girls stroll away down the dock. Hope looked over her shoulder and waved before she reached the parking lot. She moved in slow motion, and her hair shimmered in the morning light.
I smiled and waved back.
She blew me a kiss.
Hope was a lot of fun, and I wouldn't mind seeing her again.
"I think we definitely need to get into photography," JD said.
I couldn't disagree.
We stood there basking in the glow of our conquests. The warm, morning sun shone on my face, and seabirds squawked overhead. I felt relaxed and content—until Mr. Miller stormed down the dock.
"I have had it up to here with you two!" he snarled.
"Is there a problem?" I asked.
"I don't enjoy being woken up in the middle of the night by loud music and the sound of unmentionable acts!”
I arched a curious eyebrow at him, even though I was quite sure he had witnessed the exhibitionist demonstration I put on in the cockpit.
"When I moved to this marina, I had no idea I would be living on the set of a porno film."
JD and I exchanged a glance.
“There wasn't any filming going on last night, was there?“ I asked JD.
"I didn't see any cameras," JD said, flatly.
Mr. Miller's face turned red. The veins in his neck bul
ged as he clenched his jaw.
"I don't know who I'm going to complain to, but I'm going to complain to someone. This has got to stop. Decent people call this marina home, and you two are turning it into a den of sin!”
I was amused by how upset he was getting. My face contorted, looking at the man like he was insane. "You shouldn’t get so upset. It's not good for your health."
That only annoyed him further.
“You guys think you're funny, don't you? Keep it up!”
He turned around and stomped back to his boat.
JD and I stifled a chuckle.
"What crawled up his ass and died?” JD asked. “Probably just jealous. I mean, who wouldn't be?" JD said, puffing out his chest, proud of his recent accomplishments.
We went back into the salon and cleaned up after breakfast.
"Listen, I gotta do that thing for Ian," JD said. "Do you want to tag along?"
"What thing?"
"It's not like you've got anything else to do, seeing how you're on leave."
My eyes narrowed at him.
"Sure. What am I agreeing to?"
"You remember. That thing with his wife? He think’s she's fooling around."
I shrugged. "Maybe she is."
JD shook his head. "No way. Not Claire. I think he's just being paranoid."
"What do you have in mind?"
"I put a tracker on her car. I figure we’ll follow her around. Do some recon. Take some pictures. Then we can go back to Ian and tell him he's worried about nothing."
JD pulled his phone from his pocket and launched the tracking app. “Looks like she’s on the move. We need to roll.”
I grabbed my wallet and keys, and we bolted out of the salon. We jogged to the parking lot and climbed into JD’s red Porche. He cranked up the engine, dropped the top, and we peeled out of the lot. The fat rear tires barked as we lurched onto the highway. The acceleration threw me back against the seat.
It was a nice morning, but on the horizon, I could see a storm brewing. There was a marked delineation between the clear sky and the hazy storm front. I checked the weather on my phone—the tropical depression in the Atlantic had been upgraded to a named hurricane. I cringed, hoping we weren’t in Celeste’s projected path.
With any luck, we’d get a little wet, but no flooding or high winds.
“Get a load of this,” JD said.