“He is. He did some legal work for buyers at Capricorn Lakes, but then nothing happened, nothing more got built. He smelled a rat.”
“You play in the sandpit long enough, you see it all.”
Danielle sipped her wine. “But he went to the FBI because he turned up the Colombia property connection.”
“But the FBI seemed focused on the Guam angle. Why?” I asked.
“Guam is a US territory, Colombia is not. It was easier to put a case together.”
“So Barry’s going to go down for fraud?” I asked. “Feels a bit like Capone going down for taxes.”
“You’d think. But Special Agent Marcard says they’re stepping back. He thinks Barry might get five to ten for the fraud, but for murdering Ernesto? That’s life. So he’s giving Barry to the county to prosecute.”
“I never realized the FBI was so magnanimous.”
“Marcard’s a lawman. He just wants the guy put away.”
I made my impressed face and sipped my wine. I felt my eyelids growing heavy.
“So what about Nixon?” I asked.
“He’s okay. He didn’t get the Ponzi property thing and he didn’t get the murder thing, but he will get the thing with Dig Maddox replanting the same grass.”
I smiled. “It explains why Dig was in such a grumpy mood all week. He saw the writing on the wall.”
“And apparently Martin Costas knows something about that too, and since he isn’t going to be busy with the FBI . . .”
“Martin’s not going to be popular around the country club.”
“Only with the crooks.”
I gave her a face. That word covered a lot of territory.
She said, “Nixon was there for the governor anyway, and the tournament was a huge success. Biggest ratings for a non-major in years, he said. The governor’s happy so he’s happy.”
“And you?”
“What about me?” she asked.
“FDLE?”
“Nixon says the governor himself will write me a reference.”
I made my impressed face again. “You best play that card before he gets out of office. Those things have serious use-by dates.”
“What do you think?”
I knew it was only a matter of time. She had asked me before what I would do, but that wasn’t the same question. And it was easier to answer. But telling her what I thought she should do didn’t sit easy with me. I was conflicted. There were pros and cons, as always. And I just didn’t feel good about influencing her decision. I wanted her to be happy, and just like the golfers that roamed the country, her professional life was important. It was part of who she was.
“It’s a good opportunity,” I said. Sometimes I am just a big chicken.
“Yes, we covered that. I want to know what you think. And don’t go saying that you don’t want to influence my decision. I want you to influence my decision.”
“You do?”
“Of course, you idiot. I’m not sitting on the lounger next to you because it happened to be spare the first time I came over.”
“It was spare when you first came over.”
“I know. But that’s not why I stayed, is it? We’re not two people watching the world go by in close proximity, are we? Aren’t we something more than that?”
“Yes, we are.”
“Right. Then you have a say. You don’t get to make the decision. We all make our own decisions in the end, but you most certainly get a say. If you don’t influence my decision then that means your thoughts don’t matter. And they do. They matter a lot.”
I nodded but I said nothing.
“So?” Danielle asked.
“So I want you to be happy. And personally I want you closer rather than further away. But this isn’t just a job we’re talking about it. It’s who you are. You’re an officer of the law. That isn’t a job, it’s a calling. And I can’t get in the way of your calling.”
We both sipped our wine and looked at the lights on the water. I had no idea what Danielle was thinking, but my mind was a blur of data. There was too much going on in there to make sense of it, but one thing kept at me, like an oven timer that beeped and beeped and beeped until it was dealt with. It was the signal through the noise. And the signal made my guts churn. Because despite everything, the signal was telling me this was the end of something.
Danielle finished her drink and stood and walked inside. She came back out with the bottle and poured two more and then sat down again.
“I’m going to go for it,” she said.
I knew she would. I knew she had to. You can’t mess with your calling. Time overcomes the heartbreak of a lost love, but the kind of heartbreak that comes from denying your calling follows you to your grave.
I nodded. I felt thirsty, but not for wine.
Danielle put her glass down and sat up and spun in place so she was facing me.
“I just need you to tell me something before I go.”
I looked at her. It was dark out but she was radiant. Even when the world at large couldn’t see it, it was the truest thing I knew.
“Anything,” I said.
“I need you to tell me you’ll marry me.”
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Also by AJ Stewart
Miami Jones series
Three Strikes *
Stiff Arm Steal
Offside Trap
High Lie
Dead Fast
Crash Tack
Deep Rough
King Tide
No Right Turn
John Flynn series
The Compound *
The Final Tour
Burned Bridges
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Acknowledgments
Thanks to Constance Renfrew and Marianne Fox for the editorial support and proofing.
To the betas, especially Andrew and Heather.
Whilst Jackie Treloar is a fictional character and not representative of any particular golfer, his trials on the early days of the Tour were based on fact.
The 1966 Los Angeles Open was in fact won by Arnold Palmer.
As well as being the first to get his PGA tour card, Charlie Sifford was the first African American winner of the LA Open in 1969.
As always, any and all errors and omissions are mine, especially but not limited to golf cart jousting on the fairways. That’s poor form, right there.
About the Author
A.J. Stewart is the USA Today bestselling author of the Miami Jones mystery series and the John Flynn thriller series.
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He has lived and worked in Australia, Japan, UK, Norway, and South Africa, as well as San Francisco, Connecticut and of course Florida. He currently resides in Los Angeles with his two favorite people, his wife and son.
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AJ is working on a screenplay that he never plans to produce, but it gives him something to talk about at parties in LA.
You can find AJ online at
www.ajstewartbooks.com
Jacaranda Drive Publishing
Los Angeles, California
www.jacarandadrive.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are ei
ther products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover artwork by Streetlight Graphics
ISBN-10: 1-945741-00-7
ISBN-13: 978-1-945741-00-5
Copyright © 2016 by A.J. Stewart
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author.
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