A Following Sea

by Michael Lindley

  "I know."

  "One of the best trial lawyers for murder cases in Charleston is a man you already know," she said.

  "Who is that?"

  "Phillip Holloway."

  "Grace's husband?" he said in surprise. "Could you work with him after all you've told me about the man?"

  "I'll do what's best for your father. Look, I need to get back to Charleston. If the prosecutor is available this afternoon, you can link me in by phone. I really have to get back."

  Alex said, "I understand. Thank you for coming up so soon." He took her in his arms and gave her a long embrace and then a kiss on the cheek. "I really appreciate your help with this."

  "Just stay away from that crazy redhead!" she said as she closed the door of her car and drove away. Hanna was trying to sound funny, but she was not feeling good about the intentions of Adrienne Frank.

  Chapter Eight

  Driving back down Highway 17 to Charleston, Hanna tried to keep her mind on the murder charges pending against Alex's father. She was not very optimistic based on what she had learned so far. Forensic evidence would be critical. If there were any of Skipper Frank's fingerprints or DNA on that rigging on the victim's boat, it could well be over for the man. She cringed at the thought of him facing the death penalty.

  She had been serious when she mentioned bringing Phillip Holloway in on the defense. He was truly one of the best trial lawyers in the state with a lot of experience with tough murder cases. On the other hand, the thought of working beside the slime ball was not something she was looking forward to. His repeated attempts to romance her, despite being her best friend's husband, had been disgusting and he knew exactly how she felt about him. Maybe there's someone else?

  She was also deeply concerned about Jenna Hall and her son. She had asked Alex to get a police report on the husband, Moe, to see if there was anything else they needed to be concerned about or leverage they might have with the man. The report should be on her desk when she got back to Charleston.

  There was a message in voicemail from Jenna while they were in the session with Skipper Frank. She had spoken to her husband and he agreed to meet with Jenna and Hanna later this afternoon to discuss the situation. Hanna was not excited about confronting the man, but knew she needed to do something.

  Nagging thoughts about Alex's ex-wife, Adrienne, kept interrupting her concentration on these other situations. What a piece of work! Hanna thought. She was really struggling to see the Alex Frank she had come to know being with this woman. She realized they were much younger when they met in high school and later married. Certainly, she was an attractive woman, but the latest look was way over the top. She also had her doubts about the woman's common sense after their brief encounter this morning.

  She wanted to trust Alex with all her heart. She was coming to believe the two of them had the potential for something very special. They enjoyed being together and had many of the same interests. Who knew a cop would like flea markets! She often found her mind slipping away to their times in bed together. There seemed to be a natural chemistry and harmony between them when they made love... nothing awkward or forced.

  Again, she had no reason to doubt Alex's faithfulness or commitment. Neither had used the "love" word yet, but it was just a matter of time, or at least she believed that. The not so distant betrayal by her husband of over twenty years and memories of her first real love, Sam Collins, back in college when he left her to take a job overseas and never came back, still left doubt and fear in letting another man get too close. Hadn't she vowed to herself after Ben, no more men!

  Hanna would occasionally see Sam Collins' photographs in National Geographic and other magazines. He was incredibly talented and one of the most sought-after photo journalists in the world from all she'd read. She had shamelessly followed his website and more recently, his Facebook and Instagram pages over the years to keep track of his travels and work. Several posts on his newsfeeds documented his marriage to a beautiful French woman. She couldn't deny there was still a spark there for the man, though she hadn't seen him in what, almost 25 years? Definitely need to close that chapter.

  She was startled when her cell phone rang. The number on the screen looked like a local Charleston call. She pressed the "accept" button. "This is Hanna."

  "Hanna, this is Jenna. Jenna Hall."

  "Yes, are we still meeting this afternoon?

  "Moe definitely wants to meet with us at your office. He'll be there at four. He promised," Jenna said breathlessly. "He's sorry for all that's happened. I think he wants to get back together."

  "Jenna, don't get too excited about this. Let's take things slowly here."

  "He may have a new bartender job, and we might be able to get our own place again."

  "Jenna, please, one step at a time, okay?"

  The police report on Moe Hall was on her desk when she got back to her office. One of Alex's colleagues had pulled the report and emailed it over.

  It only took a moment for Hanna to groan, "Oh, no!" The man had a long list of arrests for drugs, assault and other lesser crimes. How was he not in jail? There was also an open arrest warrant for him on a parole issue. He was only twenty-five years old and his sheet looked like John Dillinger. How in the world did a seemingly nice girl like Jenna get involved with this jerk, let alone have a kid?

  Hanna shook her head in disgust and put the report aside. She looked at the clock and saw it was 3:30. They would be here in half an hour. She would have felt better with Alex joining her for this discussion but there was Molly and one of her volunteers in the office this afternoon. She wouldn't be alone with the idiot. She considered calling Alex about the open warrant. She could have the man arrested, but a parole violation probably wouldn't put him away for any significant time and they had to get this resolved for Jenna for the long-term. She would have to alert the police about her knowledge of the whereabouts of the man, but she wanted some time with him first.

  Chapter Nine

  Sheriff Stokes agreed to accompany Alex down to the crime scene, the deck of Horton Bayes' shrimp trawler, the LuLu Belle. The boat was tied up at a commercial dock one block up the river from where Alex's father moored the Maggie Mae. Bayes' boat was another of the typical double-rigged trawlers seen throughout the region with two tall booms to lower shrimp nets out to the sides. There was a time when these boats were seen in great numbers up and down the Low Country waters of South Carolina. The shrimp business was tough but lucrative for those who were strong and persistent enough to endure the long days and nights out on the water. More recently, the industry faced an alarming decline, not in the abundance of shrimp, but in the stiff competition from imported shrimp from around the world at far lower prices, as well as the continued pressures of increasing fuel costs and shortage of experienced labor.

  Skipper Frank and Horton Bayes were two of the holdouts who continued to ply the waters up and down the South Carolina coast and its backwaters for the prize of highly regarded Low Country shrimp. Many of the shrimpers in the area had friendly rivalries with each other. Alex's father and Bayes had taken that to a far more escalated level. Over the years there had been numerous run-ins out on the water when one man felt the other had violated some sacred custom of navigation or shrimper etiquette. Occasionally, these disputes would lead to blows back onshore when the two hot-tempered men would reach a boiling point with the other. Their feud and fights were legendary at Gilly's Bar and up and down the waterfront of Dugganville.

  Alex knew there was more to it than one man jumping a run on another or cutting the other off in narrow channels. He remembered his father sharing a story years ago during one of his drunken rants about both men's interest in Alex's mother before she married Skipper Frank. From what Alex could gather in his father's angry tirade, Bayes made repeated attempts to "steal his woman," even after they were married. Alex's mother, Katherine or "Kat" as she was always called, had denied any interest in Horton Bayes when Alex asked her a
bout it one night when his father was out. She had laughed and said it was just her jealous husband imagining things. Whatever had happened, she took it to her grave when she died in a car accident on a rainy night trip to Georgetown at the far too young age of 53.

  Alex and the sheriff walked down the dock and he saw Bayes' trawler tied up in its usual berth. The LuLu Belle was showing her age. The paint on her hulls was dirty and peeling and the windows were fogged with years of grime and sea salt. There was rust everywhere in the riggings and generally a feel of neglect and disrepair. There was also yellow crime scene tape strung the full length of the old boat. Both men stopped near the aft deck. Sheriff Stokes had been right about the blood, Alex thought. Though it had dried and turned brown in the hours since the struggle, there were pools and splatters all across the deck and on the walls of the cabin.

  "Looks like a damn war," Alex said.

  "Told you, son. Horton took a hell of a beating."

  Alex thought again about his father's condition he had seen this morning. He had a bruise on his face and bloody knuckles that could well have come from the two men's fight at the bar earlier in the night. He certainly didn't look like he'd been in a battle that would lead to this kind of carnage. The sheriff had told him there was some blood on his father's clothes that were off to the medical examiner, but again, it could well have come from their scuffle at Gilly's.

  Alex looked around at the riggings on the boat strung across the two long booms. "They took the block you were talking about you think was used to crush his face in?"

  "Yessir," the sheriff said. "Forensics team will get blood and fiber samples, fingerprints. We'll see."

  Alex could also see footprint smudges leading from one of the pools of blood. "What about the footprints?"

  "They're looking at your dad's clothes and shoes."

  Alex said, "No one's come forward that would have been out here on the docks last night?" He looked down the row of six other commercial and sport boats tied up.

  “We've spoken to the owners of all these other boats and no one was out here past midnight. Horton and your dad had their fight at the bar around 1am."

  "And when do you expect the medical examiner's report?"

  "Should be just a day or so they tell me. DNA takes some time to get back from the State Police in Columbia."

  Alex looked down the waterfront. He could see his family's own boat, the Maggie Mae, tied up at their dock. It was no more than a few hundred yards away, an easy walk down the piers, even for a drunk man. He shook his head. "Pop said he woke up on the deck of our boat, right?"

  "Yeah, he was there when we came looking for him this morning," Stokes said.

  "Any sign of blood tracked over there?"

  "Not that we've found, yet. Just the splatters on your dad's shirt and pants."

  "And the shoes?" Alex asked.

  "Not that I could see, but let's wait until we get the report back."

  "And they got pictures of the walk down to the boat and the dock for blood prints and splatter?"

  "I watched 'em do it, son," the sheriff said.

  Alex turned to leave. "I'm gonna take a look down at the Maggie Mae."

  "Got that taped off, too, so we'll have to stay on the pier."

  Sheriff Stokes followed Alex down to the family's dock in front of their house up the hill from the water. Images of his childhood running out of the house down to his father's boat came back to him. He had always loved going out with his father and he loved the hunt for big schools of shrimp, the joy of pulling in a big catch, sorting through the wriggling shrimp, selling them back at the docks. He and his brother had often talked about getting their own boats, figuring their old man would live forever. Saddam Hussein and George Bush had changed all of that.

  Skipper Frank's shrimp boat was in far better repair and condition than the LuLu Belle they'd just left. Despite his father's crusty personal appearance, there seemed a fresh coat of paint on all the boat's surfaces. The windows were clean and clear. All the riggings were smartly stored. The only thing out of place was an empty bottle of Budweiser lying on its side near the back deck of the boat. "Looks like Pop had one more before he passed out last night."

  "The techs got pictures and prints from that, too, I'm sure," the sheriff said.

  As Alex walked back to his car, he thanked the sheriff for his help and told him he needed to get back to Charleston. Stokes promised to keep him informed of all the information coming back with the investigation.

  "I'll be back up tomorrow," he said. "Tell Pop when you see him.”

  "Will do, son."

  He drove back on the road that ran through the little village of Dugganville. Whenever he saw these familiar streets and storefronts, it seemed as if time stood still in this sleepy fishing and shrimp town. He saw Andrews Diner ahead on the right, an old family restaurant and coffee shop that had been there since Alex was a kid. He pulled in to an open parking space and got out to go inside. He heard a call from behind.

  "Hey, handsome."

  He turned to see Adrienne walking across the street. She had to wait for a pick-up truck to pass. The driver nearly ran into a parked car as he craned his neck to get a look at the striking woman crossing the street. She came up to Alex next to his car.

  "Buy a girl a cup of coffee?"

  Alex hesitated. "I really need to get back to Charleston."

  "Why'd you pull over here?"

  He looked at the familiar face of his ex-wife, still as beautiful as when he had first fallen for her in high school. The overall look had changed... too much make-up, big hair, tight clothes, even more severe than the last time he'd seen her five years ago in another chance encounter here in Dugganville. There were a few lines now at the corner of her eyes as the years had passed.

  He hadn't been home two days from his first tour in Iraq when he learned of his new wife's first infidelity. She had taken up with one of their high school friends, a boy who Alex had played football with. Somehow, they patched it up before he left again for his second deployment. Her next affair was known all over town when he came home again. He also found her in his bed with his old teammate when he came back a day earlier than planned from a visit to the school he was considering in Columbia. There had been no shouting or fighting. The boy left, and Adrienne packed and left town. For years, he didn't even know where she went. His feelings for her had slowly died long ago during lonely nights in the deserts and dusty towns of Iraq. And yet, the sight of her now brought back flashes of earlier times together when he had loved her deeply.

  "What do you want, Adrienne?" he finally said.

  She took his arm, "Come on, let's get a cup of coffee."

  He let himself get pulled across the sidewalk and into Andrews. A few heads turned as she led him to the last booth in the back. Lucy Andrews came up and Alex said, "How’re you doing, Lucy?"

  "Good, good Alex. Nice to see you," she said, a plump and graying woman who had worked this place with her husband most of her adult life. "How you been, Adrienne?"

  "Never better, Lucy."

  Alex noticed the old woman didn't smile or reply, just turned and went back to the counter to get their coffee. He saw his ex-wife staring at him across the table.

  She reached for his hand and he pulled it away. "Missed you, honey," she said.

  "Adrienne, don't start."

  "It's been too long. Sorry I've been away and haven't kept in touch."

  "No need."

  "Been down in Ft. Lauderdale," she said, pausing while Lucy put two coffees down. "You heard I married again?"

  Alex nodded.

  "And I have a son." Alex remembered he had heard this from his father some time ago as word got around town from Adrienne's mother.

  Adrienne reached below the table for a small purse on the bench. She placed it on the table between them and searched inside. She finally pulled out a photograph and slid it across the table. Alex noticed her hand wa
s shaking. It was a picture of a young boy standing on the deck of a fishing boat, blue water stretching out to the horizon beyond."

  "What's his name?" Alex asked.

  "It's Scotty. He's ten." She looked intently at Alex.

  He looked back down at the picture and a sinking feeling surged into his gut as he did the math quickly in his head... ten years. The resemblance was striking. He could be looking at one of his old childhood pictures his mother kept. He didn't know what to say but just kept staring at the picture.

  Finally, he looked up at her. "Why'd you never tell me?" Surprise was now overcome with anger. He pushed the photo back to her. He saw tears starting to water in her eyes. "Why the hell didn't you tell me about this?" he said.

  "I knew you'd never take me back. I met another man. He took Scotty as his own." She stopped and wiped at her eyes, tears now leaking down her cheeks.

  Alex was furious and had to hold the table to control himself. "And you don't think he needed to know who his real father was?"

  "I'm so sorry, Alex."

  He slammed his right hand down on the table and everyone at the counter looked over at the two of them in the booth. "God, Adrienne! I can't believe this!"

  She tried to sniff away the tears. "We're alone now. My husband left us. I don't even know where he is. We're back staying with my mother."

  "For how long?"

  "We don't have anywhere else to go," she said.

  The emotions and anger and implications swirled through Alex's head." I need some time, Adrienne. I need some time to sort this through."

  “He needs to know his father, Alex.”

  He held up his hand and took a deep breath. “Just give me some time with this.”

  "Of course," she said. "We're not going anywhere."

  Chapter Ten

  Jenna Hall was waiting in the lobby of Hanna's legal clinic with her husband, Moe. When Hanna came out to greet them, she was surprised by the man's appearance. She wasn't sure exactly what she had expected but based on his arrest record and treatment of his wife, she wasn't prepared to see a well-groomed young man dressed in jeans and a clean white shirt. His long blond hair was pulled back and held with a rubber band at the back of his neck. His face seemed hard-edged, though, almost chiseled with dark reddish tan from too much time outdoors. The couple sat on two of the lobby chairs, holding hands.