by Chris Niles
“How’d the folks on the mainland take it?”
“Eh. They mostly ignored it. Patted us on the heads and handed us another case of rum. But they did remove the checkpoint, so maybe it wasn’t that crazy after all. It’s mostly a PR thing, but it’s also become part of the culture. We’re part of Florida, but yet, we’re a little Wild West out here, too.”
He paused at a stoplight, then turned down a side street. “Like I said, there’s only one road — Highway One. Start of it is right around the corner here. There’s only one power line from the mainland, too. Every now and then, some tourist in a sailboat clips the line with their mast, or some yahoo leads the cops on a chase up the road and flips a car on the two-lane stretch of the road. Or a hurricane roars through. Whatever you can dream up, it’s either happened or it will, eventually. It’s not as bad now as it was in my gramps’ time, but that reality makes up a tight community down here. We get cut off, we gotta take care of each other. So, we do.”
Chuck pointed to the bumper sticker on an old, battered Karmann Ghia parked against the curb. “See that? ‘One Human Family.’ That’s what we are. Everyone here, no matter where we’re from, what we look like, who we love? We’re all family, and we do for each other, no questions asked.” He stopped and took Shelby’s hand. “Always.”
The woman’s body relaxed, her whole frame settled into itself, releasing a tension she’d been carrying since she arrived at Shark Key. “Thank you.”
She leaned against the hot stucco wall of a shop and buried her face in her hands. Oblivious to the moment, the kid on Chuck’s shoulders swung wildly around, pointing across the street.
“Look, Mama. Chickens!” He began to squawk loudly “Put me down, Mr. Chuck!”
Chuck laughed. “Not a chance, kiddo. Let the chicken be.”
Shelby stared at the dark orange and black bird slowly making its way across Whitehead Street, where traffic stopped for it in both directions. “What the…”
“They rule the city. They’re all over the place, and it’s illegal to harass them.”
“Or eat them.” Tony added.
Shelby pushed off the wall and started around the corner, her step lighter.
“Sloppy Joe’s is still a few blocks up, but I wanted to show you the end of the road. It’s more symbolic than anything, but it’s a nice place to take a break from the sun.” Chuck led them to the corner of Whitehead and Fleming, where he lowered Eddie to his feet again. A tall sign marking the beginning of Highway One — or the end, depending on how you looked at it — stretched up from the sidewalk. Kate hung back while Chuck arranged everyone around the sign, her phone in her hand.
“Kate, get in here.”
“No, no… I’ll take the pictures. You go stand behind Shelby.”
The woman laughed. “I’m so short, everyone’s behind me. My head barely reaches the top of this sign!”
Kate snapped two pictures, then paused, waiting for a tall, hunched man in a black hoodie to pass behind the little group. Then she took several more and finally managed to get one of Shelby and Eddie together where Eddie wasn’t crossing his eyes or sticking his tongue out.
“That’ll make a good Christmas card for this winter.”
“If I had any to send…” Shelby frowned.
“Don’t you—”
“Not really. My parents are both gone and I was an only child. And his dad, well…” she let her voice trail off. “Can we get into the shade over there? I don’t want him to burn.” Shelby ruffled Eddie’s ginger hair while she pointed across the street to the shaded lawn of the courthouse.
Chuck crouched in front of the boy. “I gotta go get registered for the contest, but I’ll be back in a bit. And you, little man? I’m counting on you to leave that rooster — and all the other ones — alone. You wouldn’t want some giant coming in and grabbing at you when you’re just tryin’ to do whatever it is you do, would you?”
Eddie shook his head.
“Okay, glad we got that straight. You guys just stay in the shade over there, and I’ll be back in a little bit. Listen to your mama and Miss Kate and Mister Tony. Okay?”
The little boy shook Chuck’s hand, then the group crossed the street as Chuck disappeared into the crowd.
Eddie grabbed Kate’s hand and pulled her onto the wide lawn into the shade of a sprawling kapok tree, climbing onto a low branch. “I wish Slothie was here.”
Kate pressed her lips together, suppressing a laugh. “I know, Eddie. But you know sloths are kinda slow and afraid of people.”
“Oh, I know. I know a lot about sloths, Miss Kate. Like they only come down from their trees once a week. To POOP!” he released a loud giggle, covering his mouth with his hand, and Kate burst out laughing with him.
“Eddie!” Shelby scolded. “I told you to be polite.”
Kate turned to Shelby. “It’s true. And it’s a funny fact. He’s okay.”
But the boy sat on the thick tree trunk, shoulders hunched, picking at a fingernail. “I’m sorry, mama. I’ll be good.”
Shelby crouched in front of him. “It’s okay, Eddie. You just need to be really, really good. We don’t want people looking at us, do we?”
Kate and Tony traded a look.
Definitely hiding something.
Kate sat down next to Eddie and pointed up the tree. “Look. There’s a little chameleon. They’re all over the place, but you hardly see them unless you’re looking really careful for them. They change colors and they’re super-fast. Can you see if you can find five in the tree? I bet you can’t.”
The boy lit up. “I bet I can!” He turned and the little lizard darted into a clump of leaves.
Kate turned to Shelby. “I’m not sure what’s going on, and it’s none of my business, but whatever it is, we can help.”
Shelby’s gaze darted around, then back on Kate. She shrugged. “Thanks, but it’s not like that. Really.” She glanced up the street. “Hey, is there a bathroom around here?”
Kate looked around. “Most places keep them locked, but I’m sure there’s one in the Green Parrot.” She pulled a twenty out of her pocket and pointed toward the crowded bar. “Would you mind grabbing a couple lemonades as you come back? We can stay here with Eddie.”
Shelby grinned but waved away the money. “Sure thing. But it’s my treat.” Then she jogged across the shaded lawn and plunged into the crowd.
Chapter Six
“Key West, I think we have a problem,” Kate whispered in Tony’s ear as Eddie ran around the courthouse searching for lizards.
Tony glanced down at his watch. An hour had passed. Shelby hadn’t returned from her trip to the bathroom, and she wasn’t answering her phone.
Kate shot a text to a friend who tended bar at the Parrot.
Have you seen my friend Shelby in there? Tiny, pale, thick blonde hair, wearing a pink ball cap? She went to find a bathroom almost an hour ago and hasn’t come back yet.
She leaned against the tree trunk and scanned the crowd growing in the street.
Nope, not here. Sorry.
Tony peered over her shoulder, then hopped to his feet. “Stay here with Eddie. I’ll check the bar myself then move north. Chuck’ll take south. I’ll call him.”
Tony pulled out his phone as he ran across Whitehead and into the first shop.
Twenty minutes later, he emerged from the crowd in front of the Green Parrot, shoulders hanging low and shaking his head.
“Chuck’ll be here in a minute. We’ve checked every shop and restaurant in a four-block radius.” He waved at a pair of uniformed cops standing in the shade on the next block. “We need real help.”
As the officers approached, Kate whispered, “Do we need to get our story straight?”
Tony laughed. “For once, Kate, you have exactly nothing to hide from them.” He glanced around toward the thick bushes where Eddie was playing. “Not sure what to tell him, though.”
“Maybe nothing just yet. Let’s talk to them first.”
&nb
sp; Kate caught Chuck crossing the street. “We’re gonna talk to the cops, can you keep Eddie occupied for a bit? He’s hunting chameleons.”
Chuck joined Eddie and started pointing him further and further away as the two cops approached.
“Can we help you?”
Kate glanced at the female officer’s name tag. “Maybe, Officer Wilson. I don’t know if it’s really a problem or what, but our friend went to find a bathroom over an hour ago, and she hasn’t come back yet.”
“Got a phone?”
“No answer. Calls or text.”
Wilson waved toward the crowd. “Could she have …met someone?”
Kate nodded toward the building where Chuck and Eddie were crouched near the ground. “I don’t think so. That’s her kid.”
“She a good friend?” Wilson’s eyebrows rose above her mirrored sunglasses.
Kate glanced at Tony.
“She’s been staying next door to me out at Shark Key for the past three or four days. Seems okay. Good mom. A little nervous, but some people are just jumpy.”
“Nervous?”
Kate shot Tony a look.
Tread lightly.
“Probably nothing. She just didn’t seem to like the crowd, is all.”
The second officer — tag read Adams — pulled out his phone. “Got a photo?”
Kate nodded and pulled up the images she had just taken. “Drop them to me and I’ll send a BOLO.”
Kate cocked her head to the side.
“Be On The Lookout. Don’t you watch TV?”
Kate laughed. “Not much. I’m more a paperback kind of girl.”
While Adams uploaded the photos and radioed in the report, Wilson pulled out her notebook and turned to Tony.
“Okay, need you to start at the beginning.”
Tony relayed all the relevant details, including a few Kate wasn’t sure he should have shared, as the cop took notes.
Adams’ radio crackled. “Baker thirty-five, Dispatch. Be advised CPS en route.”
Adams leaned into the radio clipped to his shoulder. “Dispatch, Baker three-five. So advised. We’re near the front steps to the courthouse.”
A moment later, a red Prius whipped into one of the reserved parking spaces along the north wall of the courthouse. A heavy woman with brown hair wrapped in a tight bun squeezed out of the tiny car, then slung a thick canvas messenger bag across her chest and waddled across the lawn toward them.
She wiped the sweat from her forehead, then jammed her hand out. “I’m Betty.”
Kate pasted a smile across her face and shook the damp hand, then tried to wipe it on her shorts without being obvious. “Kate Kingsbury. This is my friend Tony Bowden.”
Tony made a fist and held it out. Betty faltered for a moment, then awkwardly returned the bump. Then she craned her neck, pushing up on her toes and scanned the lawn. “Where’s the child?”
Kate heaved a sigh and started toward the south lawn. “Around here.”
“You left him unattended?” The woman gasped.
Kate whirled. “Of course not. He’s with another adult. And I resent the assumption.”
As they rounded the corner, Betty relaxed. “Chuck Miller, as I live and breathe.”
Chuck straightened. “Betty. What are you—” Then he turned to Eddie’s little rump sticking out from under a bush. “Oh.”
“Yeah. They called me.”
Chuck drew closer and dropped his voice. “You gonna take him?”
“If they don’t find the mother by the time I get the paperwork done, I’ll have to. Don’t have a choice.”
Kate interjected. “Can’t he just stay with us?”
The woman raised an eyebrow and looked Kate up and down. Her faded tee-shirt, frayed cargo shorts, and flip flops hardly screamed responsible, employed adult.
“Where…” Chuck’s voice cracked.
Betty tugged a clipboard out of her bag. “Not sure. He’s… six? We got a bed free at a home up past Big Pine.”
“What about family?”
“Do you know of any? Cops ran the mom’s name and got nothin’ so ’til we find someone, we gotta put him somewhere.”
“What about me?” Chuck squatted down to tie his shoe.
“You?” Betty’s head tilted to the side and her eyes drifted skyward. “You’re not on our active list. I thought you only got your approval so you could take the Dawson boy if things got…”
“Yeah, but I’m certified, right? And I’ve got the bedroom.”
“I suppose you do.”
“So, activate me. Put me in the system as one bed available, and then put him in it. Let’s keep him as stable as we can until we can find his mom or some family.”
“This is a little unusual.”
“Unusual, yes. But impossible? No. You know it’s the right thing to do, Betty. And if she turns up, he’ll be right there and not halfway up the highway with some stranger with a houseful of delinquents.”
“Not all foster kids are troubled, Mr. Miller.”
It was Chuck’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “No kid ends up at a foster home because of a happy story, Betty. And no kid comes out of it untouched. Look at him.” Eddie raced across the crispy Bermuda grass after a chameleon. “Let’s try to keep the trauma to a minimum for this kid.”
“Fine. You win.” She waddled over to the wide stone steps, planted herself on the top one, then pulled a stack of forms from her bag and started writing.
Chapter Seven
Tim Keane scanned the darkening horizon ahead. Satisfied the course ahead was clear, he risked a glance behind him. The sun was sinking through a crystal-clear sky, blazing orange. A perfect night for a green flash. A green flash he didn’t have the luxury to wait for.
As his boat sped forward, barely skimming the smooth surface, the Irishman longed for those lost nights sitting on the dock that jutted into the water ahead. Watching the sunset, side by side in those sturdy white chairs, sipping icy rum drinks with little paper umbrellas Elaine had bought at the party store back on the mainland. She wanted to make every detail of their trips to the island special.
Sitting on the dock, holding her hand, dreaming of the day when he would retire, and they could sit here every night and watch for the illusory green flash.
Sitting on the dock, dreaming of a life where they’d have children to turn the business over to.
Sitting on the dock holding her hand.
Tim’s quick glance landed on the woman lying motionless on the bench seat against the starboard rail, her pink ball cap tangled around her ponytail. The sedative he’d given her would last far longer than their journey. He’d tied her hands loosely. It was only a backup precaution, but the Irishman always had a backup plan.
The golden rays shooting across the stern lit the woman’s body in splotches of warm light and deep shadow. Under any other circumstance, she would be beautiful. Her thick blonde hair, high cheekbones and her clear, smooth skin reminded him of Elaine’s. She could be the daughter they would never have. The heir who was never born.
But no. He shook his head, clearing his mind and remembering the job at hand. This woman was nothing like Elaine. Sympathy for her would only make his job harder.
He turned forward, scanned the darkening waters ahead, and nudged the throttles. The island’s dock stretched toward the channel along its northeastern coast, and bringing in the boat became tricky after the sunset.
As his destination drew closer, Keane zoomed in on the screen at the helm, then deactivated the autopilot. He guided the boat in a smooth, gentle arc to starboard, careful to not disturb his passenger. And just as the sharp golden rays behind him faded to a gentle glow, he slowed the craft. The engines’ roar dropped to a low grumble, and he eased the big cruiser up against the long dock.
After a quick reverse punch to stop her forward drift, Keane dropped the engines into neutral then shot down the ladder and flung a loop of dock line toward a thick piling, keeping the bitter end in his left hand. The
boat began to drift, and the dirty white rope splashed into the water just short of its target. He frantically tugged it in then flung it again, harder this time. It caught, and he pulled the boat’s stern toward the dock hand over hand, the rough fibers of the wet line cutting into his palms.
As he tugged and tied, he made a mental note to find a captain who would teach him the right way to dock a craft of this size when he was alone.
Once the boat was secured, he returned to the helm, shut down the rumbling engines, and buttoned up the flybridge. Then he turned his attention to the woman.
She was small — hardly bigger than a child — and her slight frame was easy to lift. He nudged her then shook her shoulders, wanting to be certain the sedative was still in full effect. He wrapped the long strap of her bag across his chest, then hoisted her over his shoulder and pulled himself to his feet.
Gripping the rails tightly, he crept down the ladder, rung by rung, planting one foot then the other firmly on each rung before adjusting his grip and stepping to the next.
He crossed the beam, clinging to hooks, hasps, and anything else he could grasp, carefully finding his footing with each step on the gently rocking craft. Then the climb. At his age, and with his weight, the solo climb up to the dock at low tide presented enough challenges. Even though the woman was small, her weight threw his balance off and he had to concentrate to adjust. Thankfully, the tide was just shifting out, and the gunwale rode just above the level of the dock. He was able to step across with only a moment of wobbly fear.
Once on land, he focused on the path ahead, willing his sea legs to remember the steady ground. He carried the woman across a low boardwalk into a thick hammock of mangroves that gave way to scrubby pines before opening to a small clearing.
He’d built this retreat for Elaine, installing the most advanced rain catchment system and solar panels with a bank of deep cell batteries that held enough charge to carry her in comfort through the longest of storms. He’d even researched the best composting toilets and built her a luxurious bathroom to provide her with the closest experience to mainland living while keeping the peace and the privacy of a home completely off the grid.