A Following Sea

by Michael Lindley

  She reached for the coffee and took a sip. "I really hate to be..."

  "Adrienne, just get some sleep. We can talk about it in the morning."

  Alex was helping her make the bed, tucking in the top sheet. She came around with a pillow in her arms and leaned in quickly to kiss him on the cheek.

  "Adrienne..." he said, backing away.

  "I just wanted to say thank you."

  "Good night," he said, walking out and closing the door behind him.

  Adrienne was still asleep when he left the house the next morning at eight. He drove down to the sheriff's office and found Stokes in his office on the phone.

  "They're damn sure?" he heard the sheriff ask. He listened for a few moments, nodding and signaling for Alex to grab a chair. "Send me the full report," he said and hung up. He looked up at Alex and said, "DA's office in Charleston. They got the Medical Examiner's report back this morning on the knife. The saltwater and mud compromised some of the prints and DNA trace, but they're pretty sure they can make a firm ID on your dad's prints."

  "What about blood?" Alex asked.

  "Like I said, they've got some trace DNA they're running right now, checking it against Bayes'."

  "Pretty sure?"

  The sheriff nodded back. "Look, Alex, if they match Bayes' blood on that knife we found under your old man's boat... that's gonna be game, set, match."

  "I know that." Alex felt his stomach churn as he considered his father's fate. The fact he may have killed a man in a drunken rage, stabbing him repeatedly, seemed impossible to believe. For the first time, he considered whether his father had been lying about passing out and having no memory of the night after he got back home.

  He heard the sheriff say, "I'm sorry, Alex."

  Alex walked back into his father's house around nine as the sun began to filter through the tall trees shading the old place. He smelled coffee brewing and found Adrienne in the kitchen, sitting at the table and sipping at her coffee, dressed only in the white t-shirt she had on the previous night and a pair of peach-colored panties.

  She put her hands in her lap, seemingly embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd be back so soon."

  He went to the counter and poured a cup of coffee. "Not like I haven't seen you in the morning before," he said, turning to face her.

  "Thank you for taking me in."

  "You need to go home and sort this out with Ella," he said.

  Adrienne hesitated and stared back at him. Then, she said slowly, "What if I don't want to sort it out?"

  "What do you mean?"

  She stood and walked over to him. Standing near, she said, "Alex, we have a son. We should be together."

  "Adrienne, please..."

  "He needs a family, Alex. He needs both of us."

  He took a deep breath and looked at her face, weary from a late night and too much to drink, her hair mussed in all directions. He tried to push thoughts of their earlier times together when he truly loved and cared for this woman. He knew there was still some of that feeling left deep inside him,

  Adrienne moved closer and put her arms around his waist. He didn't push her away. She lay her head on his chest and her hair piled into his face. He brought his arms up and slowly wrapped them around her.

  They stood together, not moving, not speaking.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Hanna had fallen asleep in the chair in the hospital waiting room. The nurses had finally insisted she leave the ICU to allow her father to rest as much as possible. Her stepmother, Martha, shook her shoulder to wake her. Hanna came slowly out of a deep, yet troubled sleep where she was dreaming about the plane crash that took her mother's and brother's lives. She woke abruptly and looked around, not certain where she was.

  "Hanna, I'm sorry," Martha said.

  Hanna looked over and saw the woman sitting beside her. She glanced around and remembered she was in Atlanta and at the hospital and her father was deathly ill. "What?" she managed to say.

  Martha said, "Dr. Mason is coming down to give us an update."

  Hanna was still gathering her senses and pushing thoughts of panic and screaming on a falling airplane from her mind. She saw the doctor coming across the room toward them.

  "Good morning," Dr. Mason said. He sat beside the two women. "The bottom-line is, Allen has fought back and seems to have passed through the worst of this. The tests look better this morning. We're going to keep him in ICU for now to closely monitor his progress, but I think he's through the worst of it."

  Martha reached for the doctor's hand and said, "Oh, thank God! He's going to be okay?"

  Mason said, "He's better, for now."

  "Are you really certain he's through the worst of this?" Hanna asked.

  "We can never know for sure, but I'm much more optimistic this morning."

  "Can we see him?" Martha asked.

  "He's awake, but not fully alert," the doctor said. "Let's give him a little more time."

  It was mid-morning when the nurse came out to tell them they could spend a few minutes with the patient. Hanna followed Martha down the hall and into her father's room. She watched as her stepmother hurried over to the bed and sat beside him. She threw her arms gently around him and let her face fall gently on his stomach.

  Hanna could see that he was barely conscious and seemingly confused about what was happening. She heard Martha whisper, "Oh, Allen, we're so glad you're back."

  Allen Moss looked over and saw his daughter. Their eyes met for a moment and then a spark of recognition seemed to light up his ashen face and he smiled. He reached out a hand for her.

  Hanna stepped to the side of the bed and took her father's hand. It felt cold and when she squeezed, his grip was weak and tentative. Martha was crying and still lying on his chest. Hanna said, "The doctor tells us you're a tough old bird and you're not gonna check out yet."

  Her father smiled back and nodded but couldn't speak.

  Hanna went back to the house, showered and changed and then drove to the offices of Moss Kramer, her father's law firm. The elegant suite of offices that housed the collection of 156 attorneys was located in a newer 80-story glass and steel tower just off Peachtree Street a mile north from downtown Atlanta. Moss Kramer occupied the top five floors. Hanna's father's office was on the top floor in the executive suite where the twelve members of the Management Committee, chaired by Allen Moss, were located.

  A wall of glass greeted Hanna as she exited the elevator. Locked double doors were inscribed with the firm name in gold script. Through the doors she could see the rich decor of the lobby area with two young women with phone head-sets in their ear seated behind a long wood reception desk. She heard the door buzz as she approached and pushed through. She recognized one of the women from previous visits.

  "Good morning, Hanna," the receptionist said. Her nameplate read Sara Hamilton. Hanna noticed the other receptionist look up with an almost apologetic look on her face, but she didn't speak.

  "Hello, Sara," Hanna replied.

  "How is your father doing?" Sara asked.

  "Better this morning, thanks."

  "We've been so worried about Allen."

  "Thank you," Hanna said, coming up to the counter and placing her leather bag down. "I'm sorry for dropping by without an appointment, but I really do need a few minutes with Mister Kramer."

  Both women looked at her with concern, as if this was the most unacceptable request.

  Sara cleared her throat, looking at her computer screen, then said, "He's got a terribly full schedule this morning, I'm afraid."

  "Please just let him know I'm here and need to speak with him for a moment."

  "Of course." Sara touched a button on her ear-piece and then dialed the single number for the office of Gregory Kramer, her father's partner. Within moments she was obviously connected to the man's executive assistant. She shared Hanna's request for a quick meeting and then listened for a few moments for the respon
se. "I'll let her know, thank you." Sara ended the call and looked up. "Let me take you down to the board room. Mr. Kramer will break free in a few minutes to see you."

  Hanna noticed a look of thinly veiled surprise on the other woman's face. She followed Sara Hamilton down a richly-decorated hallway, dimly lit with a lavish collection of oil paintings along the way. The woman pushed open two large wooden doors into a long narrow room with a wall of windows facing them and a spectacular view of the skyline of downtown Atlanta. Hanna had seen the view from her father's office on her infrequent visits and she always marveled at the grand expanse of a city that seemed to have no limits for growth and development.

  Sara said, "Hanna, there is coffee or tea in the kitchen through that door, or whatever you'd like from the fridge."

  "Thank you, Sara."

  "Give your father my best. We all hope he's back soon."

  "Thank you," Hanna said, thinking to herself about no one from the firm coming to visit her father at the hospital or calling to check on his status. She watched the woman leave and close the double doors behind her, then went to pour a cup of coffee before returning to sit at the long walnut table surrounded by deeply-cushioned green leather chairs.

  She had barely sat down when a door at the other end of the room pushed open and Gregory Kramer came in. He was twenty years younger than her father in his mid-fifties, the son of the last Kramer who had founded the firm with Hanna's father, now deceased for the past five years. He was a small man but exuded a powerful presence in a finely-cut gray suit and lavender silk tie, his blond hair balding some and his face deeply tanned. He came quickly around the table and gave Hanna a hug and kiss on the cheek.

  "Hanna, so nice to see you."

  "Thank you, Gregory."

  "We've been so worried about Allen. What's the latest?"

  Hanna tried to control her anger at the man's obviously false concern. "He's better this morning, but we had quite a scare last night."

  "He's going to be okay?" Kramer said, motioning for Hanna to take a seat and then pulling up the chair beside her.

  "His doctor is calling his condition, guarded," she said. "If he pulls through this latest..."

  "If he pulls through!" the man said in seeming surprise.

  "His heart is very weak, Gregory. We almost lost him last night."

  "My God!" the man said. "We were told late yesterday he was recovering well from the surgery."

  "There have been complications."

  "I'm so sorry, Hanna."

  "If he can get through this latest set-back and regain his strength, he's going to need a transplant."

  The man looked genuinely concerned now and said, "I had no idea, Hanna. I'm really so sorry. I had planned to stop down later this afternoon to check in on him."

  "I'm not sure he'll be ready for visitors yet. You'd better call first."

  He nodded and then said, "We have all your father's work covered with our best people."

  "I'm sure you do. Thank you."

  There was an awkward silence between them, then Hanna said, "Gregory, I wanted to let you know of my father's request for me to take his position here at the firm until he's strong enough to return." She watched as the man tried to hide his surprise and displeasure with the news. She continued, "This is what he wants."

  Kramer paused a few moments, then said, "Of course, Hanna, whatever Allen feels comfortable with. I will say, though, it would be very difficult for you to just step into his role here and assume your father's work with his many clients. It would be very..."

  Hanna cut him off, trying to keep her anger in check. "Gregory, please, I understand." She took a sip from her coffee to gather herself. "I have no intention of joining the practice at this point. I'm sure you have things well in control." She could see the obvious relief in his expression. "However, I did want you to know that if my father is ultimately unable to return to work, I will want to assume his responsibilities, again, at his request."

  Kramer stared back at her intently for a few moments, his practiced and professional look doing a good job of masking his obvious displeasure at the notion of her taking on the senior role at the firm. He finally said, "I understand your father's wishes and concern, Hanna, but it's not quite that simple. The Management Committee has a role in determining a situation like this."

  "I'm sure they do, Gregory. Just know that I will honor my father's desire to keep our family involved in the business here."

  He looked like he was having a hard time swallowing, then he managed to say in a low and surprisingly calm voice, "Hanna, let's hope there is no need to worry about any of this. We all want Allen back as soon as possible."

  Hanna was certain this was the last thing the man wanted as he would surely assume the Managing Partner role in the firm if her father was unable to return. "Thank you, Gregory." She stood, and he pushed his chair back and got up with her, offering his hand.

  "We will stay in close contact about all of this, Hanna. Please keep us apprised of your father's condition."

  Hanna nodded.

  "Thank you for coming down under such difficult circumstances," he said.

  She turned to leave, thinking about how much she would dread having to come to work in this place every day and dealing with these arrogant bastards.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Beau Richards closed the door of his Cadillac SUV and walked around his son's house to the expansive lawn that led down to the river. The mid-morning sun was high over the trees behind him and the last mist was burning off the dark river below. A long dock pushed out from the shore with his son's sailboat moored on one side and the speedboat on the other. The far bank of the river was lined with dense woods in both directions as far as you could see. Connor had bought all the adjoining property to prevent other development from destroying his view and privacy.

  Beau had called his son ten minutes ago to request a meeting. Connor asked if he could come down to his boat where he was preparing for a sail with his girlfriend, Lily. He saw his son wave from the deck of the sailboat. Lily stepped down into the cabin as he approached. As he came out on the dock, a small alligator pushed away slowly from the shore, only its dark head visible above the flow of the river. As Beau came alongside the sailboat, he heard his son call out, "Come aboard."

  Beau stopped and said, "Let's take a walk."

  Connor hesitated, then said, "Okay." He jumped on to the dock and came up to his father, giving him a hug. "Morning. What's up?"

  Beau turned without answering and started walking back to the shore. Connor followed and said, "Dad, what's going on?"

  Beau didn't speak until they reached the shore. He turned along a path by the river and said, "When is your next delivery?"

  "What? You mean the weed?"

  "Yes."

  Connor walked alongside his father. "Tonight, why?"

  Beau stopped and looked out across the river to the far bank. "I don't want you out there tonight. Get someone else and this will be the last, do you understand?" Connor started to protest, but Beau held up his hand and said, "We don't need this anymore."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "We don't need to take these risks anymore, particularly with all the cops stirred up about the Bayes murder."

  Connor didn't try to hide the panic in his voice. "We can't just shut this down overnight! We have partners..."

  "They'll find someone else," Beau interrupted. "We don't need the money and we sure as hell don't need the risk anymore. I'm doing the same thing with the sports book."

  "You're shutting down the gambling, too?" Connor said in exasperation.

  Beau turned to face his son. "We have more than enough legitimate business now. We're not going to screw around with this crap. Do you understand?"

  "So, it's about Bayes" Connor asked. "They'll never find out he was taking deliveries out on the bay for us."

  "We don't know who he talked to before he died," B
eau said. "And Chaz Merton's been his crew on most of his drug trips. I trust that old drunk about as far as I can spit."

  Connor said, "We can take care of Merton."

  "No! There won't be any of that."

  Chapter Forty

  Hanna had spent most of her time on the drive back to Atlanta on the phone to her office in Charleston, trying to keep current on the cases she was working on at the legal clinic. One of her calls had been to Lonnie Smith at the Charleston PD to check on the search for Jenna Hall's killer. Lonnie was frustrated by how little progress had been made in finding the man. He was quite certain Moe Hall was far from Charleston at this point and they would have to rely on the State Police and others brought in to help with the search. Jenna's son was still being kept at the clinic under the care of Greta Muscovicz.

  She had also checked in with Phillip Holloway on progress on the Skipper Frank murder investigation. There was nothing new since she had learned of the discovery of the knife and blood evidence, further strengthening the case against Alex's father.

  Hanna had left Atlanta in the late morning after another visit with her father at the hospital. She was encouraged by the progress he seemed to be making in recovery. The doctors also provided a more optimistic view of his improving tests and response to treatment.

  Her father was coherent enough to understand the discussion she shared with his partner at the Moss Kramer law firm. He seemed satisfied with her stance on the situation. When he learned Hanna's son, Jonathan, was coming home to Pawleys Island that night, he insisted she get back to be with him.

  Hanna was still an hour out from the coast when her cell phone buzzed on the seat beside her. She looked at the screen and didn't recognize the number but decided to accept the call.

  "Hello, this is Hanna."

  A woman's voice said, "Is this Hanna Walsh?"

  "Yes, who's calling?"

  "Hanna, this is Adrienne Frank."

  Hanna's senses went on full alert when she realized it was Alex's ex. "Yes, what is it?"