A Following Sea

by Michael Lindley

  "It was dark, I don't remember," she said.

  When Alex pulled down the long drive to Connor Richards' house, he saw the man getting into his car to leave. Alex pulled in behind the car, so he couldn't back up. Richards got out with an angry scowl across his face.

  "What the hell you doin?" he said, slamming the door to the red Porsche and coming at Alex as he got out of his car.

  "Just need a minute, Connor."

  "Later, man," he said. "I'm late."

  "Well, you're gonna be a little more late," Alex said. He turned when he saw Lily Johannsen coming out the front door of the house. She seemed surprised and a bit concerned to see Alex.

  "Lily," Alex acknowledged.

  She nodded back and came up beside Connor and took his arm.

  Alex said, "You two hear about the drug arrests outside the bay last night?"

  "Whole town's talking about it," Connor said.

  Lily wouldn't make eye contact and stood silent.

  Alex asked, "Thought you might have seen something while you were out on your boat last night."

  Connor didn't hesitate. "We were just out for a sunset cruise and a few cocktails."

  "Right," Alex answered and stared back at the man.

  An awkward silence dragged on before Connor said, "Didn't see a thing. Must have been back before the bust went down."

  Alex said, "Heard some Mexican Cartel might be running this operation. That's a dangerous bunch. You heard anything about that?"

  Lily seemed to go pale and her feet shifted nervously. She looked away as Connor answered, "Lots of rumors going around."

  "You ever hear about Horton Bayes tied up with these guys?" Alex asked.

  Connor shook his head and pursed his lips, seeming to think about the question.

  Alex said, "You let me know if you hear anything."

  Connor nodded but didn't answer.

  Alex looked over at Connor's girlfriend. "Nice to see you again, Lily. You hear of anything, call me, okay?"

  She nodded back but didn't answer.

  Alex was in the sheriff's office and watched as the man hung up the phone on his desk. Stokes said, "Feds won't let us near Merton or the Bayes boy yet. Say they haven't finished their interrogation."

  "Who are they holding from the delivery boat?" Alex asked.

  "Three Cubans, boat registered out of the Yucatan."

  Alex said, "I'm gonna have my old man's lawyer file a motion to get us in to talk to these guys."

  "Pretty thin narrative," the old sheriff said, "trying to link this drug deal to Bayes' murder."

  "We need to track this down, Pepper."

  He knew he should have gone back to his father's house, but he had no interest in running into Adrienne again. He wanted to give her as much time as possible to leave. Instead, Alex had gone down to Gilly's to order some dinner and have a beer. One had turned to three as he sat at the bar and talked to a couple of locals about drug runners along the Atlantic coast. He didn't learn much more but confirmed there had been stories of a new drug ring running marijuana all along the coast.

  He was talking now to an old fishing guide, Billy James, who was a friend of the family. The man had nothing more on the drug ring that Alex hadn't heard. Alex asked, "You ever hear about Horton runnin' with these guys?"

  "Runnin' weed?" the old man asked.

  Alex nodded and took a drink from the last of his beer.

  Billy shook his head. "No, can't ever remember Horton doing much more than chasin' shrimp and women."

  "Women?" Alex asked, surprised.

  Billy laughed. "That old bastard was gettin' more on the side than anybody I ever seen."

  "Horton Bayes?" Alex asked, incredulous.

  "Must be a lot of lonely women round these parts," the old guide said, and then finished his beer and got up to leave. "Sorry 'bout your old man, Alex."

  Gilly walked up and grabbed his empty beer bottle. "Another?" he asked.

  Alex said, "No, I need to get going." Gilly brought over his bill and Alex left some cash on the bar.

  He walked down the steps into the cooling evening, palm fronds along the front of the place rustling in a heavy wind from the east. A sliver of moon was just over the treetops. His car was parked at the back of the lot by the river. His thoughts were spinning between Mexican drug runners, Connor Richards and Horton Bayes and how they may be part of it all.

  He looked over when he heard a vehicle with a low throaty engine pull into the parking area. It was a late model pick-up truck that obviously needed a new muffler. The passenger side window was rolled down. Alex saw the gun and it took just a moment too long to register it was aimed at him. The first shot struck him in the left shoulder and he felt a searing heat that knocked him back and to one knee. He managed to keep moving in a roll away from the truck when the second shot spit into the gravel a few inches from his head. He kept rolling under a parked truck, trying to put the intense pain in his arm aside. He heard two more shots hit the dirt next to the truck as he rolled out the other side and forced himself to stand.

  He reached for his 9mm Ruger service pistol on the clip on his belt. His head was swimming with the pain in his arm and the adrenaline racing through him. The loud roar of the other truck's engine cut through the night as it accelerated to speed away. Alex forced himself around the truck he was using for cover but couldn't see the license plate as it sped out of the parking lot and fishtailed away down the street.

  Alex felt lightheaded and sank to the ground, leaning back against the wheel of the truck. He heard voices and then saw Gilly kneeling in front of him. He heard the man say, "Alex, you okay? We heard the gunshots!"

  He couldn't answer and winced as Gilly pushed back the bloody sleeve of his shirt.

  Gilly yelled out, "Somebody call 911!"

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Hanna woke on Sunday morning to the sound of gulls hovering over the beach in front of the house. She pushed the covers back and rubbed her eyes in the bright sunlight coming in the windows. She sat up and looked for her slippers on the wood floor. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She saw it was just past 8:30. She also saw it was Phillip Holloway calling. Reluctantly, she accepted the call.

  "Good morning, Phillip."

  Oh, Hanna," the lawyer said. "Glad I caught you."

  "What is it?

  Phillip said, "Just talked to Alex. He's okay but...

  Hanna cut in, "What are you talking about?"

  "He's going to be okay, Hanna, but Alex was shot last night up in Dugganville."

  She felt a sick wave in her stomach. "He was shot?"

  "He's in the hospital up there. Took one shot in his shoulder. Apparently, someone fired several more rounds that missed."

  "Who was it?" she asked, the panic in her voice rising.

  "Driver and a shooter in an old truck," Phillip answered. "They got away and Alex didn't get a plate number."

  "Oh my god!" Hanna said, stunned.

  "Alex says he's feeling okay and will probably be released later this morning, so there's no danger."

  "Okay," Hanna said tentatively. "What's going on, Phillip?"

  "Alex told me he's been asking a lot of questions about a drug ring that's been running in the waters up there."

  "And they tried to kill him?"

  "Someone did."

  "Did Alex ask you to call me?" she asked.

  "No, just thought you should know."

  Hanna ended the call with Holloway, thanking him for filling her in. Of course, he offered to come up to the island to be with her if she was too upset. She managed to graciously decline the offer.

  She went down to the kitchen to put some coffee on. While she waited, she fought the urge to call Alex to check on his condition. She wasn't sure she wanted to open the whole situation with him again. She was terrified at the thought someone had tried to kill him, but it sounded like his wounds weren't serious.

 
Her thoughts were interrupted when Jonathan walked in, his hair mussed and his face puffy from sleep. He pulled the coffee pot out and poured a cup even though it had barely started to brew. He sat down at a stool across the counter from his mother.

  Hanna told him about the attempt on Alex's life.

  Jonathan was as stunned as Hanna. He said, "What's he got himself into down there?"

  Hanna just shook her head.

  "You're sure he's going to be okay?" Jonathan asked.

  "Apparently. I'm just not sure I should call. We've managed to put this behind us and I don't feel like opening it all up again."

  Jonathan sipped at the hot coffee and nodded. "You know what's best. I'm sure Phillip will keep you informed."

  Hanna scoffed, "Oh, I'm sure of that!"

  Jonathan and Elizabeth left to return to Chapel Hill just after ten. Hanna gave them both a warm hug before they loaded up and pulled down the drive to leave. She decided to get back to Charleston to get some work done at the clinic before the craziness of a new week began tomorrow.

  As she was packing, she called her father in Atlanta. He was still in recovery but feeling stronger.

  "My partner came by to see me last night," Allen Moss said.

  "Really?" Hanna said, surprised. "How nice of him."

  "Wasn't just a social call," her father continued. "He's more than concerned about you coming in to the firm."

  "What did you tell him?"

  "I told him the Moss family was going to stay closely involved with the leadership of Moss Kramer, one way or the other."

  Hanna said, "Let's just leave that as an option to keep him thinking. You sure you're feeling better?"

  "The doctor thinks I can go home in a day or two. I'll need a full-time nurse at the house. Maybe a couple weeks 'til I'm up and about again."

  "You take it easy, Allen," she scolded.

  "I'm going crazy sitting in this room with doctors and nurses constantly buzzing around."

  "They need to be buzzing around, Allen. You’re sick!"

  "I'm feeling much better," he said. "No need for all this fuss."

  "Just do what the doctor says."

  He didn't respond for a moment, then spoke with a weakness returning to his voice. "This transplant is scaring the crap out of me, daughter."

  Hanna was surprised to hear her father admit to any sign of fear. It was so unlike him. "They know what's best, Allen."

  "I feel fine. This old ticker's gotten me this far. Don't see any reason to trade it in at this point."

  Hanna sighed. "One step at a time here, Allen, okay?"

  On the way back to Charleston, Hanna called Alex's partner, Lonnie Smith. The detective had already spoken to Alex and confirmed he was out of danger and would be checking out of the hospital before noon. She had asked if Lonnie could meet later in the day to discuss the Moe Hall investigation. She wanted an update before going to see Greta at the clinic and check on the son, William.

  Lonnie told her he was hosting a barbecue for friends at their house but insisted she come by to join them for burgers and a beer. He could fill her in on the latest on Moe Hall. She let her phone GPS guide her to the Smith house on the north side of Charleston. It was a beautiful old neighborhood sheltered with tall trees. Most of the homes had been updated and nicely landscaped with colorful shrubs and flowers.

  Hanna found an open parking space on the street and walked up the drive, the sounds of laughter and music coming from behind the house. She came around and saw several children playing on a swing-set at the back of the fenced yard. Three couples were up on the deck, standing and sitting, drinks in their hands. Lonnie saw her and reached for his wife's arm to bring her over to meet Hanna.

  "I'm sorry to interrupt your Sunday," Hanna said, genuinely upset for bringing work to his Sunday and his family and friends.

  "It's not a problem, Hanna," Lonnie said in his deep voice. "Meet my wife, Ginny."

  The two women shook hands. Ginny said, "We're glad you could join us. We were really concerned about Alex, but it sounds like he's going to be alright.

  Hanna nodded and turned when Lonnie said, "Not sure what he's got himself in the middle of up there."

  Hanna said, "Sounds like some very rough characters with this drug business." She felt a cold dread again as she thought about the men trying to kill Alex last night.

  "Alex knows how to take care of himself," Lonnie said. "I may have to go up there for a little back-up. We'll see."

  The Smiths took Hanna over to introduce her to the other guests, neighbors and friends from next door and across the street. Lonnie got Hanna a cold beer from a cooler on the deck and then said, "Let's get business out of the way." He led her away to a quiet shady spot on the back lawn.

  Lonnie started, "I didn't want to say anything on the phone because I was waiting on a callback to confirm, but Moe Hall was spotted in Charleston last night. We have an informant who knows him and called it in."

  Hanna felt her spirits lift. "Where is he?"

  "We're following up on a couple of possibilities."

  "Has anyone warned Greta down at the clinic?" Hanna asked. "I wouldn't want that man trying to go back for his son."

  "I called her personally," Lonnie said. "She's got my number and the precinct number she can call if he shows up."

  "Thank you," Hanna said, somewhat relieved.

  Lonnie took a drink from his beer, then got a concerned look on his face. "Really sorry to hear about you and Alex. Thought you two were great together."

  "You know about Adrienne and the boy?" she asked.

  He nodded.

  "Not much room for me in that little scenario," she said.

  "Alex will do what's right."

  "I know, that's why I don't want to be a distraction."

  "You're not a distraction, Hanna," he said. "Alex is crazy about you. I haven't seen him like this before."

  Hanna just shook her head. "Bad timing, Lonnie."

  "Give it some time, Hanna. Alex will work this out."

  Chapter Forty-nine

  As Alex signed the release papers to leave the hospital on Sunday afternoon, he thought back to the first time he had been shot on duty. The bullet hole scar on the left side of his stomach was a continuing reminder of the dangers of police work. He had been investigating a homicide in Charleston five years earlier. He and his partner, Lonnie Smith, had tracked down a suspect to a boxing gym on the west side of town. They both saw the suspect run out the back of the building when they came in. Alex went after the man and Lonnie went out the front to try to head him off from the other direction.

  When Alex opened the back door leading into an alley, he looked both ways and didn't see or hear the man running. He cautiously moved along the side of old brick building, his senses on high alert and his service pistol out and ready. He saw the man suddenly lurch out from behind a dumpster just ten feet away. He also saw the gun in his hand and started to yell to drop the weapon when the man’s gun fired, hitting Alex in the lower abdomen. He went down immediately, intense pain and shock overcoming him. The rest of the incident was a blur of shouting and more gunshots as his partner came into the alley, fired back at the assailant and then found Alex as the man ran away in the other direction.

  The wound had not been life-threatening, but it had been a long and arduous journey for Alex in recovery. He continued to condemn himself for allowing it to happen and for the suspect to escape. The man was arrested later in the day and eventually convicted for homicide and for the assault on a police officer. It hadn't helped Alex cope with the incident and he continued to have doubts and occasional nightmares about the day in the alley.

  The shooting the previous night in Gilly's parking lot brought back all the old doubts and fears. Alex's shoulder would be fine, the bullet not damaging bones or the joint, but emotionally, he was reliving all the haunting memories of the first incident.

  He was also struggling to w
ork through who was behind the attack. Who had he pissed-off enough to want him dead?

  Sheriff Pepper Stokes was waiting for him in his car at the curb outside the hospital. The old sheriff had been by to see him earlier and get his statement about the attack. Alex was pushed to the curb in a wheelchair by one of the nurses who had been attending to him. He stood and thanked her and then climbed slowly into Stokes’ patrol car. His left arm was held securely in a tight sling, but the pain wasn’t entirely masked by the drugs the doctor had prescribed.

  "You need to learn to duck, Alex," the sheriff said beside him.

  "Not funny, Pepper. You got anything on the truck and who was trying to take me out?"

  The sheriff handed him a booking photo of a forty-something male with close-cropped gray hair, a scruffy beard and a snake tattoo showing on his neck above the shirt-line. "This guy look familiar?"

  Alex studied the face for a moment. "No, don't think I've seen him before. Who is it?"

  "Local "bad guy" named Hank Jameson, usually mixed up in the worst that goes on around here. Surprised he's out of jail right now. He has a truck that matches the description you gave us... late model, loud pipes."

  "Where is he?"

  "Got the boys out looking for him," the sheriff said.

  Alex handed the photo back. "Who does he normally work for?"

  "Anybody who needs nasty work done. He's already done time for armed robbery and manslaughter and avoided conviction on another murder charge. Seriously bad dude."

  Alex asked, "You ever connect him with the Richards?"

  "Beau and Connor?" the sheriff replied, seemingly surprised.

  "Seems just a little too coincidental, I confront Connor about the drug deal out on the bay and a couple hours later someone's trying to put my lights out."

  "That's a pretty serious charge, Alex."

  "There were two of them in the truck, Pepper, as I told you. The shooter was on the passenger side."

  "We know. Jameson has several other "friends" we're also looking for."

  Alex said, "You and I need to go talk to Connor Richards again."