A Following Sea

by Michael Lindley

  The sheriff hesitated, then said, "Alex, we can't go off accusing one of the county's most prominent families with attempted murder and drug trafficking without some real evidence."

  "Pepper, I'm telling you, Connor Richards is dirty in this. I'm sure of it."

  "Alex..."

  "And I wouldn't be at all surprised if Beau is running the whole operation."

  The sheriff started the car to drive away, then said, "Alex, you do what you think you need to do, but I'm not getting the Department out there harassing a family that's responsible for ninety percent of the economy around here without any real proof."

  Alex stared back, concerned the Sheriff's Department wasn't going to take a more proactive approach to tracking this down. "Just take me back to my car, Pepper. I assume it's still down at Gilly's."

  Alex pulled up to the gate at Beau Richards ranch and pushed the button for the intercom speaker. A few moments later, a voice he didn't recognize said, "Who's there, please?"

  "It's Detective Alex Frank. I'm here to see Beau."

  "A moment please," the voice said.

  A minute later, Alex heard the motor engage and the gate start to swing open. The voice on the intercom said, "Please come up to the house."

  Alex drove half way up the long drive-way and then stopped for a moment to check on his gun. He ejected the magazine and confirmed it was fully loaded with 9mm shells. He slammed it back into the pistol and placed it in the clip on his belt.

  No one was waiting to greet him when he pulled up the circle around the front of the big house. He went up the stairs and rang the doorbell. An older man he didn't recognize, who must have been one of the servants, opened the door and said, "Good afternoon. Mr. Richards is out by the pool. I'll take you back.

  Alex followed the man through the opulent rooms that led to the back of the house. He saw the large pool and outbuildings through several windows. The man opened a set of French doors and held it for Alex to go out onto the back veranda and down the steps to the pool. He saw Beau Richards reclined on a deeply stuffed chair and ottoman and his wife, Amelia, on the chair beside him, deeply tanned and sunbathing in a revealing orange bikini. She didn't make any effort to cover herself as Alex walked up.

  Beau Richards stood with a concerned look on his face and came up to meet Alex. "How you doing, Alex? Heard about the attack last night."

  Alex ignored the man's offered hand to shake. "We need to talk, Beau."

  Richards didn't appear to be miffed by the slight and just smiled back. "What can I do for you?"

  Alex looked over at Amelia Richards and said, "Could we have a few minutes, mam?"

  She stood slowly and reached for a short robe on the chair behind her. She said, "Sunday's no time for business, Detective."

  "Won't be long, mam," Alex said. He watched as she pulled on the robe and stepped into a pair of sandals before she walked away into the house.

  "Get you something to drink, Alex?" Beau offered.

  "No, I'm fine."

  "You don't look fine, son," Beau said, looking at the sling around Alex's arm and shoulder. "What the hell happened?"

  "Can we sit, please?" Alex asked, still a bit groggy and weak from the wound and drugs he'd been given.

  Richards led them over to stools at a long covered bar area. Alex took one of the seats and watched as Beau walked around the back of the bar and poured some whiskey over a glass of ice." He said, "What's so important we need to interrupt this beautiful Sunday afternoon?"

  "You tell me, Beau," Alex threatened. "I start sniffing around a drug deal out on the salt and talk to your son about why he was out there in the same area that night. Next thing I know, someone's trying to take my head off."

  Richards put the drink down. "That's a pretty serious accusation, Alex."

  Alex just stared back at the man and didn't respond.

  "Why do you think Connor had anything to do with this?" Beau asked in a low challenging voice, all the hospitality in his demeanor clearly gone.

  "Sounds like some serious drug traffic coming in around here, maybe the Mexican cartels involved. A lot of money. You follow the money, Beau," Alex said, looking out across the vast estate.

  "You accusing me?" the man hissed.

  Again, Alex didn't answer. He watched as Beau sipped at his drink and obviously tried to gather himself. He finally smiled back and said, "Alex, I'd be asking a lot of questions, too, if someone started taking shots at me, but you're way off base here. We run legitimate businesses, real estate, wholesale and retail seafood, investments, insurance. We're an open book, Alex."

  Alex stood and said, "Looks like Horton Bayes was in on the drugs, too, Beau. You do much business with Horton before he was killed?"

  "Is that what this is all about?" Beau asked.

  "You didn't answer my question."

  "We've been buying shrimp from Bayes for years, that's it."

  "Right," Alex said. "My next stop is Connor's house. I'm sure you'll call to let him know I'm on the way."

  Chapter Fifty

  Hanna unlocked the door to her legal clinic offices in downtown Charleston and went up the back steps to her apartment on the second floor. She put her bags in the bedroom and went to the kitchen to get something to drink. She saw a half-full pitcher of iced tea and poured a glass over ice. She sat at the counter and looked through the mail that had been collected for her on the receptionist's desk, sorting bills, flyers and junk mail.

  She pushed it all aside and looked at her phone on the counter in front of her. She resisted the urge to call Alex and check on his condition. She was certain once she re-opened that line of communication, she'd have to deal all over with the situation with the ex-wife and son. Not again!

  She did look at her messages and saw a text from her son. They had arrived safely back in Chapel Hill and he thanked her again for the weekend at the beach. The thought of her son and his great new girlfriend brightened her mood.

  She went back down to her office and started in on the work that had been piling up. Soon, it was growing dark outside and she sighed when she realized she'd made barely a dent in what needed to be done by tomorrow.

  A noise at the backdoor to the building sounded out of place and Hanna looked up with alarm. She listened and again heard something out in the back of the house. She reached for her purse and found her keys. A small key unlocked a bottom drawer of her desk. She pulled out a locked metal box and with hands shaking, found the key to open that as well. A small black handgun rested on the foam bottom of the box. Her late husband, Ben, had insisted she keep the weapon at the clinic. She was trained in handgun use and occasionally took the gun to a local shooting range to stay familiar with it.

  The silence was broken by the sound of glass breaking and Hanna gasped, standing quickly and reaching for the gun. She also grabbed her cellphone and managed to punch in 911 before she heard the back-door lock click and the door squeak open. She quickly whispered her name and location to the 911 operator and reported the unknown entry at the back of her house and offices.

  Hanna knelt behind her desk as she heard footsteps coming down the hall toward her open office door. She held the gun in both hands as she'd been trained and took a deep breath to control her shaking hands.

  She was not surprised to see the hooded face of Moe Hall as he came around and stood in the doorway.

  He was startled and stepped back when he saw her and the gun. "Whoa!" he said, holding up both arms in the dirty gray sweatshirt, but he didn't back any further away.

  "The police are on their way!" Hanna shouted.

  "Calm down, lady," Hall said, regaining some confidence and starting to walk into the office. "I just want to talk."

  "I will shoot you!" she yelled again.

  This stopped him about ten feet from the other side of the desk.

  "You need to turn yourself in," Hanna said. "The police will be here any minute."

  Hanna could see his
face turn grim and angry. "If you hadn't messed everything up, Jenna would still be here, and we'd be with our son."

  "You killed her, Moe. You need to turn yourself in. It will go better for you if you turn yourself in."

  The sound of a siren in the distance could be heard and Moe Hall looked back toward the open door for a moment. When he turned back to her, Hanna was stunned at the fury of his expression. "You stupid bitch!"

  He started toward the desk.

  "Moe, I will shoot you!" She stood now and held the gun out with both hands in firing position, aimed directly at his chest.

  He kept coming and was now just a few feet from the chairs across her desk.

  "Moe, stop now!" she screamed.

  She watched as he reached into his back pocket and his hand came up with a long switchblade knife that he flicked open. "I should have carved you up a long time ago," he said in a low, angry voice.

  He was only two feet from on the side of the desk when he lunged. She pulled the trigger three times in rapid succession. The sound of the gunshots echoed through the room and she watched as the bullets all struck the man in the chest and threw him backward, stumbling to the floor.

  Her heart was racing and her temples pounding. She suddenly thought she would vomit, but she kept the gun trained on the fallen man. The sounds of the siren grew closer and then she heard shouts out in the hallway.

  "Police officers!" someone shouted. "Put all weapons on the ground and hands in the air.

  Hanna saw a uniformed Charleston policeman peak around the corner of the office, his revolver held out in front of him. She placed her gun on the desk and raised her arms. "My name is Hanna Walsh!" she said, trying to calm her panic. "I'm an attorney. This man came at me with a knife.

  The policeman came into the office, his gun aimed at Hanna. He saw Moe Hall lying on the floor, the blood from the gunshots evident on his sweatshirt and pooling on the floor beside him. Hanna noticed the man had a distant stare in his eyes and he wasn't moving.

  Moe Hall was pronounced dead at the scene a short time after the first medical response unit arrived. Hanna had been taken to the lobby area of the office and was sitting in one of the chairs along the wall being questioned by a female police officer beside her. The officer had just told her of Hall's death. Hanna was shaking despite the blanket a paramedic had wrapped around her shoulders.

  All of the police present seemed to be sympathetic to her story, particularly after they found the knife next to Moe Hall's body.

  Hanna looked up when Lonnie Smith came into the room through the front door. He came right over and sat beside her, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  "Hanna, I got the call right after they learned it was you involved in the shooting," Lonnie said.

  Hanna turned and fell into the man, wrapping her arms around him, the blanket falling from her shoulders. She had tried to keep her composure since the police had arrived, but the news of her attacker's death had sent her over the edge. She whispered to Lonnie, "I didn't have any choice. I warned him, and he kept coming. He had a knife!"

  "We know, Hanna. You did the right thing."

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Alex stopped his car in the drive of Connor Richards' house. All the lights were out and there was no sign of a car. On a hunch, he looked for the number of the private air terminal at the county airport. He knew the Richards had a private jet they kept there.

  The woman who took the call would not answer Alex's question about whether Connor Richards had left on the plane, but it was clear from her response the plane had recently departed. He pressed her, giving her his Charleston PD badge number. Reluctantly, she told him Connor and Lily Johannsen had left about an hour ago with two pilots. Their reported destination was Nassau in the Bahamas.

  Alex was driving back into town to his father's house. He pushed the contact number for Sheriff Stokes and filled him in on his encounter with Beau Richards and the sudden departure of the man's son with his girlfriend.

  "Maybe they're off on a damn vacation!" the sheriff said, seeming miffed at the call on a Sunday night.

  "This wasn't a planned trip, Pepper," Alex said. "The pilots were brought in last minute for the flight, according to the woman at the hangar." There was no response. "You need to get a warrant in the morning for us to search Connor's house and office," Alex insisted.

  "Be in my office at eight," Stokes said.

  "I'd also suggest you have someone keep an eye on Beau Richards before he tries to get out of the country."

  Alex was just walking into the house when his phone rang. It was his partner, Lonnie, calling. He pressed the button to accept the call.

  "What's up, Lonnie?"

  "She's okay, Alex, but Hanna was involved in a shooting tonight."

  Before he could continue, Alex jumped in urgently, "A shooting? What the hell happened?"

  Alex listened as Lonnie Smith filled him in on the details of Moe Hall's assault on Hanna. He couldn't believe what he was hearing and was both stunned and thankful that Hanna had the presence to confront the man and defend herself. "You're sure she's okay?"

  "We're on the way down to the precinct to file the formal report," Lonnie said. "She's real shook up, as you can imagine."

  "Can I talk to her?" Alex asked.

  "She's in another patrol car. I'll tell her we talked when I get downtown."

  Alex was reeling as his partner continued to share details of the attack and the fatal gunshots from Hanna Walsh that killed the man.

  He ended the call and sat on one of the porch chairs, collecting himself and thinking through all that was happening, not only with the Richards and his father's murder investigation, but now with Hanna.

  He pushed the contact for Hanna's cell phone. It rang five times and then went to voicemail. At the tone, he said, "Hanna, Lonnie called. I just want to check on how you're doing and if I can help with anything. Call me!"

  Alex woke the next morning when he heard a loud commercial truck going by in front of the house. He looked at his phone and saw it was just past seven. He checked for messages and saw a voicemail from Sheriff Stokes but nothing from Hanna. He pressed the link to the sheriff's message.

  "Alex, it's Pepper. Got a call from the DEA office first thing this morning. They're gonna let us talk to Chaz and little Horton. You want to drive down to Charleston with me this morning? Give me a call."

  On their drive into Charleston, Alex learned from the sheriff that he had a deputy monitoring the movements of Beau Richards. He had also confirmed the flight plan of Connor to the Bahamas and that it was a hastily organized flight. He was waiting to hear back from a judge on a warrant to start searching Connor Harris's home and office.

  Chaz Merton was brought in to the interrogation room at the DEA offices in Charleston. He was dressed in an orange jumpsuit with a number stenciled on the left chest. His hair was matted and in disarray and he clearly hadn't shaved in days. Merton seemed surprised when he saw Alex and Sheriff Stokes. He was accompanied by a woman who was introduced as his attorney.

  "Morning Chaz," Alex said as the prisoner sat down across from them. The agent who brought Merton in left and closed the door. A mirror on the wall was actually a one-way window from the adjoining room where two DEA agents on the drug bust case were monitoring the discussion.

  Merton just nodded and looked back at both men.

  The sheriff said, "The Feds here tell us you've agreed to cooperate in the investigation of this drug ring."

  "That's right," Merton said in a low, weak voice. He looked like he hadn't slept.

  Alex said, "Chaz, how long you been involved in all this?"

  Merton looked at his lawyer and she nodded. "Couple years," he answered.

  "What about the Bayes family?"

  The man hesitated a moment, then said, "Had little Horton out with me. He's made a few runs with us over the years, but he's been away at school mostly."

  "What a
bout his old man?" the sheriff asked.

  Merton shook his head in the affirmative. "Horton's been doing runs as long as I've been out there."

  Alex continued, "What role do the Richards have in all this?"

  The prisoner looked over again at his attorney and then whispered something in her ear. She quietly conferred with him for a moment. Finally, Merton said, "Beau and Connor been runnin' this deal from the beginning. Connor sometimes even takes deliveries on his own sailboat or the "go fast" boat.

  Alex wasn't surprised. He asked, "And there's a Mexican cartel involved?"

  "Don't know for sure who's on the other end, but definitely some Mexicans and Cubans been bringin' the loads in."

  Alex asked, "Horton ever tell you he was thinking about getting out of the deal?"

  Merton hesitated a moment in thought, then said, "Last week, I know Horton and Connor were having a beef about something the morning after we brought in one of the loads. I figured Horton was unhappy about his cut in the deal."

  "You didn't hear anything else?" the sheriff asked.

  Merton shook his head "no".

  Alex leaned in over the table. "How much was Meryl Bayes involved in all this?"

  Merton pursed his lips, considering his answer. "She's never been out on the salt with us, but she damn sure knows about the money. I've heard Horton bitchin' about her hidin' it all away for the future when he needed some repairs done on the boat."

  Alex said, "Chaz, you think anybody involved in running this weed operation had any reason to want Horton Bayes dead?"

  Merton looked back with an empty stare. He scratched at his unruly beard and then looked at his lawyer. She said something in private to him, then he said, "Horton's a damn unlikeable old cuss. Pissed a lot of people off, not just your old man."

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Hanna called her son, Jonathan, the previous night from the police station before she gave her formal statement. She wanted him to know what had happened and that she was okay, in case he heard something on the news. He had insisted on driving down to be with her and met her at the apartment early the next morning.