A Following Sea

by Michael Lindley

  Hanna thought for a moment about the murder investigation into Skipper Frank. She asked, "I was thinking about the blood evidence on your father. All they found was bruising and traces of Bayes' blood on his hands and a little on his clothes, probably from the fight at the bar. Seems he would have blood all over him and his clothes and shoes after stabbing a man to death like that."

  "Yes, you'd think," Alex said. "Another one of those loose ends. Holloway thinks it's the key in Pop's defense."

  As Hanna finished her meal, she looked out the window of the diner and saw that darkness had overtaken the town. She looked at her watch. "I'd better get going."

  Alex hesitated, then said, "It's late, I've got a spare bedroom."

  Hanna was tempted but said, "No, I need to get up to the island. Early start in the morning."

  "Okay," Alex responded. "Thank you for stopping off on the way."

  Hanna smiled and said, "Promise me you'll keep your head down."

  They hugged again, tentatively, as she stood to leave.

  As Hanna walked out of the door of the diner, she fought the urge to go back in and take Alex up on his offer to stay the night. She was exhausted and the thought of getting back on the road was the last thing she wanted to do. She reminded herself that sleeping in the same house with Alex Frank would create a few too many complications at this point. Too soon!

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  Alex saw the glow of a cigarette from someone sitting on the front screened porch as he pulled into the drive of his father's house. His senses went on high alert. He got out quickly, keeping the cover of the car between him and the person on the porch. He released the strap on his gun and pulled it out.

  "Come out here now!" he yelled out.

  "Alex, it's me," he heard the familiar voice of Adrienne reply.

  He put his gun back and walked around the car. "Adrienne, what the hell?" He watched as she came out the door and down the steps. She threw her smoke down on the sidewalk and crushed it out with sole of her sandals. In the darkness, he could see she was wearing jeans and a white blouse. Her hair was piled loosely up on top of her head.

  As she came up to him, she said, "Can we take a walk?"

  "Just tell me what you're here for."

  "Please," she insisted. "I need to talk to you about something."

  They had walked in silence all the way out to the end of his family's dock on the river. His father's shrimp boat, the Maggie Mae, was tied up on one side, their small fishing boat on the other. Both rested calmly on the smooth surface of the river. The sounds of crickets broke the stillness of the night. A small light at the end of the dock reflected down in the water and fished darted in to chase minnows attracted by the glow.

  "You want to tell me what's going on?" Alex finally asked. He turned to face his ex-wife. Adrienne reached for his hand and he pulled it away. "Just tell me what you have to say."

  Adrienne said, "I want you to understand something."

  "And what is that?"

  "Scotty and I really had nowhere to go."

  "I know that."

  "No, I mean when Derek left us in Florida. I didn't have any money and couldn't find a job and someone to watch Scotty. I had to come back home."

  "Yes, I know," Alex said, the impatience clear in his voice.

  Adrienne hesitated and walked over under the light, then turned and said, "I never wanted to lie to you, but I just didn't have any other options."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I never thought we would see Derek again. We had been fighting constantly for weeks and I knew he'd had enough."

  "Adrienne..."

  "No, let me finish," she cut in. "I wanted Scotty to have a real family. Not like me. I hardly knew my father growing up."

  Alex closed the distance between them and said, "What are you trying to say?"

  "Derek came back for us today. He's over at my mother's house."

  "Okay," Alex responded cautiously.

  "I think we can make it work. He's got a new job down in Florida. He wants us to come back."

  Alex's mind was racing, and he immediately thought about his son. "And what about Scotty?"

  Adrienne came to him and put her arms around his waist. This time, he didn't pull away. She looked up at him and said, "Derek is Scotty's real father, Alex."

  He let the words sink in for a few moments, his emotions racing between anger and relief. Anger won out. He pushed her away. "You've got to be kidding me! How could you lie to me about something like this? He looks just like me, Adrienne. You told me this Derek guy has red hair and there was no way he could be the father."

  She didn't respond.

  "Adrienne?"

  "I told you I never wanted to lie to you, but I didn't have any other place to go," she said, her tears shining on her cheeks in the dim light. "Scotty looks a lot like his real father, Derek."

  Alex stood there, stunned at all he was hearing, looking back at this woman who he had once loved with all his heart and now, found himself again, wishing he had never seen her face.

  Alex sat in the captain's chair of his father's boat. Adrienne had gone back to her mother's over an hour ago. She was leaving for Florida in the morning with her husband and their son. His only hope regarding Adrienne was he would never see or hear from her again.

  He was on his second beer, letting the alcohol numb his mind and the pain in his shoulder. He thought about calling Hanna and telling her about Adrienne's deception but decided it was too late. He found his emotions mixed about the news of Scotty's real father. He had been preparing himself for the reality of taking the boy into his life and raising a son together, somehow, with Adrienne. He had never doubted his ability to be a good father for Scotty, he just couldn't find a path that would allow Adrienne back again. Now, that was not an issue... and how was Hanna going to react?

  Sheriff Stokes called him the next morning at 7:30 to tell him the DEA was going to let them talk to Connor Harris at noon. He was locked up with the Feds all morning down in Charleston.

  "Any news on what Connor's telling these guys?" Alex asked.

  "No, they're not sharing," the old sheriff said.

  "You got time for a cup of coffee and some eggs," Alex asked.

  "Sure."

  "Meet you down at Andrews in thirty minutes?"

  "I'll be there," Stokes said.

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  Hanna had fallen asleep moments after she had arrived at the island the night before. The past day's events and stress had been exhausting and she had a deep restful sleep before her alarm went off at 6:30 the next morning.

  She put some coffee on in the kitchen, then went back upstairs to shower and dress for her meeting down at the law firm offices at eight. As she was coming out of her closest, she happened to notice several books stacked on the top of her dresser. In the middle of the pile was a well-worn black leather-covered book. She reached for it and pulled out her great-grandmother's journal, written during and after the Civil War. Hanna had found it in the attic of the beach house over a year ago in an old trunk when she was cleaning out the house, expecting to have to sell it after her late husband's murder.

  The journal chronicled Amanda Paltierre Atwell's life and family during the war and the year's afterward when her husband, Captain Jeremy Atwell, never returned from a battle fought weeks after the war had ended in a remote battlefield in southern Texas called Palmetto Ranch. It also chronicled a new relationship with a mysterious stranger who returned to South Carolina to tell Amanda of her husband's death in the senseless battle. The stranger ultimately confessed to Amanda that he was the man who killed her husband during the fight. Through some difficult times, she found a way to forgive the man and they were married some years later and lived a mostly happy and fulfilling life together.

  Hanna sat on the bed and turned the fragile pages of the journal carefully to a passage she recalled reading many times.


  Colonel Morgan returned to the plantation last night. It's been months since I sent him away. I'd thought I would never be able to forgive him for killing Jeremy. As these months have passed, I've thought of little else. I've come to realize the war put many men in situations that can never be justified or fully understood.

  Before I learned Colonel Morgan was actually a Union Officer, the man who killed Jeremy in Texas, I had been troubled with a growing affection for the man. Jeremy had been gone for so many years and I knew I had to move on with my life. We have so little time on this earth and if we're fortunate enough to find someone we can be happy in sharing those years together, how can we deny those feelings?

  Hanna glanced up from the journal when she heard the chime on the coffeemaker in the kitchen. She looked again at the passage from her grandmother's journal, then placed the old book gently on her nightstand. She saw the alarm clock and realized she had time for a quick breakfast before having to get down to the law offices for her meeting. Her grandmother's words echoed in her mind as she went down the stairs. How can we deny those feelings?

  The Peterson divorce meeting had been more dreadful than Hanna could possibly have imagined. She had watched incredulously through the morning as two people who clearly detested each other struggled to find some middle ground where the couple's substantial fortune and real estate holdings could be protected and shared going forward in some greedy alliance. She felt like she needed another shower when she came out of the meeting.

  It was approaching noon when the couple finally left the offices, Mr. Peterson in his Maserati GranTurismo and Mrs. Peterson in her white Mercedes SUV. He would be taking their Gulfstream jet back to Manhattan and their elegant Park Avenue apartment and she would continue to reside alone in the palatial home on the coast here on Pawleys Island.

  Hanna decided to take a break and drive home for a quick lunch before returning for an afternoon of work. She pulled into the drive at the beach house and parked in the shade of several palm trees. The afternoon winds were building and rattled through the palm fronds, offering some relief from the heat.

  The cool rush of air conditioning greeted her as she went inside and into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, she sighed when she saw the sparse array of edible food. She found a Lean Cuisine in the freezer that looked like her best solution and placed it in the microwave for a three-minute instant meal. She pulled a chilled bottle of water from the refrigerator and sat at the bar to wait for the microwave and to catch up on her phone messages and email.

  Something on the counter caught her attention and she looked up to see her grandmother's journal lying open across from her. At first, she didn't think much of it and looked back to her phone and then suddenly, she clearly remembered leaving the book on her nightstand upstairs in her bedroom before she left for work that morning.

  A chill of alarm caused her to look around and listen to hear if anyone was in the house. She sat for several moments listening and trying to understand how the book could have been moved. She stood to walk through the house to see if anything else was askew. She happened to look down at the journal and noticed it was open to the passage about the return of her grandmother's soon-to-be second husband, she had read earlier in the morning.

  Hanna again read the entry about the return of Colonel Morgan to the Tanglewood Plantation outside Georgetown after the end of the Civil War... how can we deny those feelings?

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  Lucy was clearing their dishes from breakfast at Andrews Diner when Alex finished the last of his coffee and said to Sheriff Pepper Stokes across from him, "We need to get formal statements from both Ella and Meryl."

  "Alex, I know you think this whole thing with Horton and these women smells bad, but I can't believe either of them could have killed the man. You've seen how badly he was attacked and stabbed. Could you see either of them able to physically manage that?"

  Alex thought for a moment, then said, "Horton Bayes was really drunk that night. It wouldn't take much to overpower him. He might have even been passed out."

  Stokes shook his head. "I don't see it."

  "We need to get them in for a statement, Pepper."

  The sheriff looked at his watch. "We have to get started down to Charleston. They'll have Connor Richards ready for us at eleven."

  Alex said, "I've called Holloway to join us. My dad's lawyer needs to be there, too."

  "Let's see what Connor has to say before we decide what to do about Ella and Meryl."

  Phillip Holloway was waiting for them in Charleston when they came off the elevators. As always, he looked like he was dressed for a cover of Gentleman's Quarterly. He gave Alex a warm smile and firm handshake, then the same for the sheriff. "Good to see you both," he said. "They're ready for us any time. Richards has "lawyered up" as you can imagine, so I doubt we'll get much from him this morning, but let's take a try."

  Alex asked, "Do you have some time later to see my father with me?"

  "Sure, we'll make it work."

  Stokes said, "Have you gotten anything more from the DEA on Richards?"

  "No, they're still not sharing. We're on our own."

  Connor Richards was dressed in a jail jumpsuit with a prisoner number stenciled on the chest. His hair was slightly askew, and his face looked drawn and tired. He didn't look up when Alex walked into the small interview room with the sheriff and Phillip Holloway. The three sat down across from the prisoner and his attorney, a woman with graying hair and an immaculate gray business suit. Introductions were made. Her name was Mary Bronson.

  Stokes said to the attorney, "We need to speak to your client about recent events regarding the murder investigation of Horton Bayes and the attempted murder of my friend here, Mr. Frank, who is a Charleston Police Detective working with me on all this."

  Richards' lawyer smirked and said, "And his father is sitting in jail, charged with the murder of Bayes. Hardly an unbiased member of the investigation team."

  Stokes didn't respond.

  Holloway jumped in. "Ms. Bronson, your client's father has already confessed to hiring the hitman that tried to kill Alex here, earlier this week."

  "He did no such thing!" Bronson protested. "Mr. Frank is claiming he admitted to all of this, but Beau Richards completely denies the allegation and he hasn't been formally charged."

  "There is no question that he personally tried to shoot and kill Alex," Holloway replied. To Connor he said, "Would you like to tell us your involvement with your family hiring this hitman, Hank Jameson, and why you needed Alex Frank to be killed?"

  Mary Bronson exploded, her face turning a flushed red, "That is completely out of line! There is no evidence to suggest my client had any involvement in any of this."

  Calmly, Holloway said, "Connor, would you care to speak for yourself today or are we wasting our time?"

  The prisoner looked over at his lawyer and she whispered something in his ear. Bronson said, "I've advised Mr. Richards that he has no obligation at this point to address any of your questions."

  Alex had heard enough, and the frustration was clear in his voice when he jumped in, "Connor, why in hell did you suddenly take off to the Bahamas in the middle of the night if you weren't running from all this?"

  Connor responded quickly, "Lily and I left on vacation. It had nothing to do with any of this."

  Alex couldn't hide his skepticism, "Amazing timing to have a Caribbean vacation planned right after there's an arrest warrant out for you on a drug bust."

  Richards protested, "I didn't have anything to do with that!"

  His lawyer whispered in his ear again, trying to silence him.

  Sheriff Stokes said, "Connor, we have a witness under arrest who implicates you and your father in this drug ring and several other criminal enterprises."

  Richards spat back, "If you're talking about Chaz Merton, he's a damn drunk who would turn his mother in if it would save his ass!" His lawyer put her hand on his arm
to stop him, but Connor continued. "If you're looking for who killed Horton Bayes, you better give Merton a serious look. He bragged to me about getting Bayes out of the way, so he could take over as captain of their family's shrimp boat. The man's a damn mess and was on his last legs. Your old man had already fired him and no one else would give him any work except us, canning fish. He was up to his ass in gambling debts."

  Alex was stunned at the man's revelations. Chaz Merton! He looked Connor Richards straight in the eye and said, "You're telling us Chaz Merton confessed to you he killed Horton?"

  "Might as well have. He was drunk down at Gilly's the next night, telling me and my father he'd taken Horton off the board and his old lady was going to let him take on the Lulu Belle as captain."

  Alex was furious and had to stifle the urge to reach across the table and grab Richards by the throat. "And you didn't think you should report this to the sheriff? My father's looking at a death sentence!"

  Richards didn't answer, and his lawyer broke in, "That's really enough! My client has nothing further to say about any of this."

  An hour later, Alex, the sheriff and Phillip Holloway were sitting in another interrogation room with Chaz Merton. When the man was brought in, he had a wide smile that quickly disappeared when Alex confronted him. "Chaz, we just came from an interesting conversation with Connor Richards. He tells us you confessed to him and Beau that you "took Horton off the board" to take over as captain of their boat."

  Merton's smile quickly disappeared. He looked confused and didn't respond.

  Stokes said, "Chaz, tell us what happened that night."

  "I got nothin' to say," Merton suddenly said.