by Chris Niles
As Tony picked himself up from the sand, Kate sprinted after Corey. She sailed past Chuck and launched herself onto his back, wrapping her arm around his neck and her legs around his thighs. She jerked to her left, and the two of them toppled to the ground, arms and legs flailing, Kate pinned beneath the massive redneck.
Tony raced into the fray. He landed a right hook to Corey’s jaw, then yanked him by the arm and threw him to his belly as Kate extricated herself from the pile. She rubbed her shoulder.
Wild barks and growls burst from the inside of the camper.
“Whiskey, down.” Kate shouted. But when the barking continued, she stomped over to the camper, grabbed a leash hanging inside the door, then led him out to the lane.
“Sit.”
The dog obeyed, his gaze on Tony and the intruder unwavering. The air quieted until the hum of Tony’s air conditioner and Corey’s panting were the only sounds remaining. Then came the crunch of tires on gravel followed by an earsplitting siren burst.
Tony knelt near the top of the man’s back, grasping his wrists together as the sheriff’s deputy approached, Chuck at his side.
“You all okay up in here?” The deputy’s eyes flicked toward the Airstream.
Kate nodded. “Yeah, everyone’s safe, but this guy refused Chuck’s request to leave the property, and then he got a little aggressive.”
The deputy crouched down and peered into Corey’s eyes. “If he lets you up, you gonna be reasonable?”
A muffled “uh-huh” fought through the sand and gravel under Corey’s face.
The deputy nodded to Tony. Tony released his thick wrists and backed away.
Corey sat in the grass, panting and rubbing the various joints that had been twisted in unnatural directions. He looked up at the deputy. “I just want my kid.”
The deputy pressed his lips together and shook his head. “We’ve been through this. The judge said no. You know I gotta bring you in.”
“Public easement, man. You ain’t got nothin’ll stick, and you know it. Trespassing, maybe, but I’d be out by sunset then I’d come for your badge. Now, her.” Corey pointed at Kate. “I could give you a whole list of violations you could bring her in for. Starting with that menace.”
Whiskey held the man’s gaze, the fur on his neck rising and a low growl humming in his throat. The deputy winked at the dog, then turned back to the interloper.
“Corey, we go way back. We both know you learned to game the system early. Hell, everyone on the island knows it.” The deputy waved vaguely back toward the highway. “You win this one. Go. But one day, you’re gonna make a mistake. And I’ll be there. You can count on it.”
“Not today.” Colton’s father turned to Chuck. “As for you, this ain’t over. I know you’ve been helping her hide my boy. You’re probably screwing her, too. You should be ashamed. You’re old enough to be her grandfather.”
Chuck lunged. Tony caught him and held him back.
“Enough, Corey. Your boy isn’t here, and you’re not welcome. Go.”
Corey climbed back up into the truck. He spit onto the ground, then turned the vehicle around and gunned the engine, spinning a cloud of crushed coral at the group before his tires grabbed the hard surface and the truck lurched forward toward the highway.
Kate drew three deep breaths. When her hands stopped shaking, she ran to Tony’s camper and brought Colton out to see the deputy.
The boy reached out his hand. “Thank you.”
The deputy crouched to the boy’s level and shook his hand. “My pleasure, Colton.” He rose then walked back to his car. As he opened the door, Kate caught up with him.
“Thanks for running him off. If he’d have seen the kid, this wouldn’t have gone so well.”
The deputy’s eyes flared. “I’ll settle in at the end of the lane for the rest of my shift, but I doubt he’ll be back today. We need to get him on something that will stick. I meant what I said. One of these days, he’s gonna mess up. They all do.”
“I hope it’s soon. Jodi and the kid can’t take much more of this. It’s getting harder to keep her from running.”
His jaw tightened. “I get it. If I was her, I’d be tempted, too. But that’d bring the wrath of the Dixie Kings down on her.”
“Who would have thought there’d be gangs in the Keys?”
“There’s a lot here the tourists never see. And we need to keep it that way. This little war gets publicity, the visitors stop coming and our economy drops in the crapper. All we got’s tourism and fishing, and there ain’t enough fish in the sea to support everyone who rolls down here hiding from something.” He winked at Kate while he climbed into his car.
Kate crossed the lane, then dropped into a frayed lawn chair under a palm tree.
Tony retrieved the bike. As he carried it back to the road, he beckoned to Colton. “Wanna try again, bud?”
The kid dropped his eyes. “Maybe later. I don’t really feel like playing anymore.”
“But you almost had it. C’mon. Let’s give it another try.” Tony coaxed Colton up and the boy shuffled across the grass to the bike, Whiskey trailing behind them. Kate and Chuck watched as Tony steadied Colton on the bike.
“How much longer can we keep this up, Chuck?”
He looked up, the rims of his eyes red. “As long as we have to. That family doesn’t stand a chance without us. They barely have one with us.”
The two sat, and the air filled with the sound of water lapping against the rocky shoreline and salty breeze rustling in the palm fronds above them.
Chuck finally pushed himself up from his lawn chair. “I think it’s time to put in a gate.”
Chapter Two
The ancient air conditioning unit droned high in the corner of the long, concrete-block room. Kate flopped in a folding chair then propped her feet on the counter separating the camp store from Chuck’s office area. Behind the counter, Chuck’s ancient desk sat beneath a bank of jalousie windows, cranked tight against the sweltering July heat. Piles of paperwork lay in dusty plastic stacking trays, and the ever-present aroma of mildew was only barely covered by the oil diffuser Babette had placed in the middle of the counter.
Kara Alvaro flitted from shelf to shelf around the tiny store — as much as a six-foot-two, two hundred forty-five pound drag queen in four-inch platform heels could flit — moving items around on the shelves.
“Graham crackers. Marshmallows. Chocolate bars. Together, Charles. Together.”
Without turning his attention from the pile of invoices in front of him, Chuck grunted.
“Girl, don’t waste your time. He’s just gonna move it all back. I’ve been after him for years now.” Kate kicked her feet off the counter then crossed the ancient linoleum to hug her landlord and friend.
Chuck finally looked up. “Chocolate goes with candy. Marshmallows go with baking stuff. Graham crackers go with snacks.”
“And mustard goes with toilet paper?” Kara held the disparate items up and waved them high above the shelves.
Chuck laughed. “Mustard goes with hot dogs, and hot dogs would go with toilet paper. Except they’re in the cooler. Leave an old man alone!”
“Old man my left—”
“You’re not even sixty yet, Chuck.” Kate interrupted before Kara could finish her colorful thought. “And you certainly held your own with Corey out there, so don’t go playing the old card today.”
Kara slumped. “That bastard try to come for Colton again?”
“Yup.” Chuck shrugged. “I don’t know how long Jodi can hold out. I been moving them every week or so around the empty campers… pretty much every time he shows up, she moves again. Colton thinks it’s high adventure, but Jodi just wants to settle down and be done with it.”
“Doesn’t she have a restraining order?”
“She does. But even though this is private property, because the restaurant is open to the public, he’s claiming he’s just going up there. Long as he stays on the easement, ain’t much they can do.
He’s trash, but he’s not dumb trash. Her lawyer is doing the best he can for pro bono, but without a paycheck, there’s only so much he’ll do.”
Kara slammed a ketchup bottle onto the shelf. “That’s just not…”
“I know. Back in the old days when Gramps was running this place, you could run a guy off and be done with him. He used to tell me stories. I know we’ve made progress and a lot of things are better now, but dang if it don’t make it harder in some ways too.”
“Truth.” Kara bobbed her head. “You get that foster license yet?”
“Yeah. Finished the last class a couple weeks ago. Hope I never need it, but with this guy, you never know. He thinks he has rights. A right to own her. A right to own the boy. He ain’t a father, he’s just a sperm donor.” Chuck shoved his chair back and spun toward the wide plate glass window along the shop’s front wall.
An older gray Lexus with a spot of rust on the wheel well rolled to a stop just past the office door. The driver, a short white woman with long blonde hair, slid out of the front seat, then opened the door behind her. A red-headed kid climbed down to the crushed coral drive then burst through the office door, dragging a big stuffed sloth by one leg.
“Mom! They got drinks! C’n I get a juice?”
“Hang on buddy.” The woman’s tired voice drifted in on the hot, muggy breeze. “Let me get inside.”
She staggered in then pushed the door shut behind her, wiping the sweat from her temple as she planted herself in front of the AC. Her face tilted up into the cold stream of air, and she heaved a long sigh. Finally, she turned and leaned against the counter.
Chuck pushed himself out of his chair. “What can I help you with today?”
The little boy stood in the corner with his face pressed against the glass of the cooler. His mother drew in another breath, looked around the office, then leaned forward.
“I’m looking for a safe place to…” Her gaze flitted around the office again. “You know what, um… Nevermind—”
“Mom. They have chocolate milk!”
She whirled toward her son. “Milk? When it’s this hot outside?”
“Yeah, but we’re inside. Please mom?”
The woman sighed. “I suppose. Okay.” She turned back to Chuck then rummaged in her purse. “How much for the milk?”
“Nothin. Don’t worry ’bout it. It’s good for his bones. Now, about what you’re really here for?”
The woman’s eyes flared.
“It’s okay. Look, I’ve known my share of folks who needed to stay out of sight for any number of reasons. And those reasons aren’t any of my business unless the law is lookin’ for you. So that’s my only question. Is the law looking for you?”
The woman shook her head, her gaze hopping around the room. “No. Not the police—”
The little bell above the door jingled, and the woman whirled as Michelle Jenkins entered the shop, then pulled up short as the little boy bolted across her path toward his mother, nearly tripping Michelle with the stuffed animal. She crouched down.
“Hi there, bud. I’m Michelle.”
The boy turned around. “I’m Eddie—”
His mother grabbed his arm and pulled him against her. “We’re just passing through.” Then she bent down to the boy, her whisper urgent. “What did I tell you about strangers?”
Eddie, oblivious, turned to Michelle. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers. But your name’s Michelle. You’re not a stranger anymore.” Michelle laughed as he whirled to the huge woman standing between the shelves and extended his stuffed sloth’s hand with his own. “I’m Eddie. And this is Slothie. You’re huge. What’s your name?”
Kara grinned and crouched down. “My name is Kara. And yes. I’m really big for a woman. Most people aren’t brave enough to mention it.” She reached out and wrapped his little hand in her huge one, shaking it, then winking at him.
As Michelle drifted toward the shop’s front window, tapping her phone’s screen, Kate sidled up beside Chuck at the counter. “Ma’am, I came here about three years ago looking for a place where I could find a little peace. Things didn’t work out exactly the way I expected… they worked out better. If you’re looking for a safe place where you won’t be found for a little while, you’ve found your spot.”
Chuck flipped through a little box and pulled out a tattered index card. “I’ve got a fifth-wheel on a shaded lot that’s empty and could use a little love.” He snatched a two-way radio from its charger against the wall. “Justin. Justin. Chuck.”
The little box crackled. “Yeah, I’m here… Whatcha need, boss?”
Chuck smiled. “Can you go kick the AC on in Number 43 on the east lane? I got a guest comin’ down in a few minutes.”
“Sure thing, boss. Done.”
Chuck planted the radio back on its charger and pulled out a registration form, its triplicate pages bound at the top. “Now, I’m guessing you don’t want to leave too many tracks here?”
While the woman shook her head and pulled a long, flat wallet from her bag, Kate glanced past her shoulder to Michelle. Her friend glanced up at the car parked outside, slowly swiped her finger up the screen, then looked up. She met Kate’s glance, then nodded.
Kate nudged Chuck, and Michelle repeated the nod.
Chuck grabbed a ball-point pen and returned to the form. “So, Mary Smith, right?” He winked and filled out the rest of the form as the woman began to count twenties onto the counter.
“I think maybe a week should be all we need. Will that be okay?”
“It’s summer and things are slow. We’ve got the Christmas in July boat parade coming up, but we never have overnighters for that. You and Eddie can stay as long as you need, Mary.” Chuck winked, pulled a key ring off a hook with the number 43, then passed it across the counter to the woman. “Restaurant is up on the deck around the corner. In the summer, we open for breakfast somewhere between seven and eight. Babette is always around, but you might have to poke your nose into the kitchen if you don’t see her. As long as you’re here, you’re family, so feel free to explore, wander around anywhere on the island. Just keep an eye on Eddie there until he knows what’s where. This place is a wonderland for kids. I grew up here on the island myself. There’s loads of little coves and rocks along the shoreline to catch fish or just get your feet wet. Does he know how to swim? Maybe we can—”
“Chuck, take a breath and let the poor woman answer!” Kate shoved his arm.
“Hey, watch it. That’s my bum shoulder. You know, the one you got me into fighting that nut job out on Mallory Key?”
“Me? I was just following a treasure map.” She winked at Eddie. “You know, there’s buried treasure all around these islands. Maybe if you stay long enough, we can take you and your mom out on one of the boats and look for some?”
The boy tugged his mom’s shirt. “Can we, Mom? Can we?”
The woman’s nose twitched. “We’ll see.”
Kate softened her eyes, and nodded at the newcomer. “It’s okay. Take your time. Just know that the offer stands. Most of us around here work a few different jobs, but we’ve got flexible schedules and we’d love to take you guys out and show you a little of the side of Key West most visitors don’t get to see. There are so many quiet, off-the-map places around here, I think you’d love it.”
The woman’s cheek ticked up in a tired smile. “That sounds kinda nice. Maybe.” She pulled the key from the counter and took Eddie’s hand.
“Forty-three. Take a left at the fork, and it’s the cream-colored fifth-wheel just after the Airstream. And just so you know, the guy that’s refitting that Airstream will make sure you stay safe. Whenever you’re ready, just tell him what he needs to be watching out for, okay?”
“Okay. And… thank you.” She pulled the glass door open and the bell above it jingled weakly. After a short pause, she turned back to the little cluster of friends standing by the counter. “By the way, my name’s Shelby.”
Then she nudged the li
ttle boy back to the car. They crept down the lane leaving a low cloud of dust in their wake.
Chapter Three
A patch of red and blue and gold sunlight, motes of dust dancing in its bright rays, inched across the spotless stone floor toward a pew worn to a shine by centuries of parishioners sliding back and forth, up and down, all in the service of their Creator.
Keeping her chin tucked piously toward her chest, Gloria Rojas Restrepo stole a peek down the long wooden bench. Her father, the legendary Ernesto Rojas Solarte, leaned against the pew in front of them, head down and hands clasped at his forehead, his eighty-seven-year-old knees resting on wood that had supported at least ten generations before him, praying the same prayers. Prayers for safety. Prayers for prosperity. Prayers for their enemies.
Gloria gazed up at Christ dangling from the cross, his crown of thorns digging into his marble flesh.
I pray, Oh Lord, you would smite my enemies. Bring destruction to their homes and death to their families. Eradicate them from this land and clear my way to my rightful place.
Her pale hand danced from her forehead to her heart, then across her shoulders as she slid from the kneeler back into the wooden bench. Wednesday morning mass was always celebrated in the narrow Chapel of the Blessed Virgin. Of the ten or twelve worshippers scattered through the ornate side chapel, only her father’s attendance was by choice. Across the aisle, the Rojas Cartel’s three other top lieutenants glanced over at the kingpin, none of them wanting to rise from prayer before their boss.
A sharp vibration from her pocket echoed through the high chapel walls. Designed to amplify sound in the era before microphones and loudspeakers, the smooth stone walls reflected the sharp buzz into the arched ceiling, echoing it into the ears of the soldiers and guards pretending to seek absolution from their many, many sins. But only her father took notice.