by Matt Lincoln
“I fail to understand the obsession with SPAM,” he said with a good-humored shake of his head. “More power to you for sticking with the stuff.”
Sadie shrugged. “It’s comfort food. We grow up with it here, so it’s not a big deal.” She steepled her fingers in a close approximation of a boss interviewing a job candidate. “So, federal-international-investigator-type person who sometimes hunts modern pirates, what’s your relationship to the Dragon’s Rogue?”
Their server delivered the coffee he’d ordered and apple juice she’d requested. Ethan lingered over his steaming cup for a moment before taking a sip of the scalding liquid.
“My grandfather search for the wreck his entire life.” Ethan folded his arms on the edge of the table, and a dreamy look came over his face. “I went to live with him after my dad died, so I happened into it. Gramps got me interested in more than sneaking off or playing hooky at the beach. Without him, I don’t know that I would’ve got my head on straight enough to end up where I am now.”
“Do you still search for the ship?”
“Not as much as I’d like, but I do what I can, like following leads that bring me to new people and places.”
The corners of his mouth turned up a little. Sadie wasn’t the type to be immediately into anyone, but there was something deep about Ethan that she sensed made him more interesting than most people she met. She gave herself a mental kick. He only asked to meet so he could learn more about the journal she’d found. Still, she wanted to know more about him.
“What else connects you to the ship?” she asked. “Erika said something about you being related to someone.”
He nodded. “I had a case that let me to a cave along the Florida coastline. That’s where I found the remains of the ship’s original owner, Lord Jonathan Finch-Hatton of England. The pirate ‘Mad Dog’ Grendel stole the ship on its maiden voyage. We think he kept Hatton aboard because the clothes on the body were consistent with what pirates wore in the day. He appeared to have survived a fight only to end up in the cave and die of dehydration.” Ethan made an amused sound. “I can’t believe it never washed away after centuries of hurricanes. Guess I was meant to find him.”
“Hmm.” Saide thought about all the journal had and had not said. “The journal didn’t mention Hatton other than he commissioned the ship and captained it on its first voyage.”
“Hatton captained?” Ethan brightened. “We never knew that. I always assumed he’d hired a former naval officer.”
“That’s what Grendel said, but he never mentioned Hatton again. If he stayed aboard, Hatton took a different name.”
Ethan’s brow furrowed. “It’s possible. If Grendel knew who the captain was, then that blows my thought that Hatton pretended to be a deckhand so that he wouldn’t be killed. We know he lived long enough to have a child unless he left a child in England.”
Sadie felt a thrill to see that Ethan really did have a working knowledge of the Dragon’s Rogue and its history. But…
“How do you know Hatton had a child?” she asked. “Did you find paperwork or something?”
“We created paperwork,” Ethan told her. “After we found the remains, my friends ran a DNA test to see if there were any hits. We figured it was a long shot. Turns out Hatton matched at being my ancestor.” Ethan met her startled gaze with his amazing sky-blue eyes. “It was already personal because of Gramps, but now it’s literally in the family.”
“Wow.” Sadie looked up to find the server back with heaping plates of food. “That’s incredible. Did your gramps get his interest from his dad or grandpa?”
“He never said.” Ethan cocked his head as if realizing it for the first time. “You know, I never thought to look into that, and it wasn’t like family trees in school went back that far.”
“Maybe that’s why the story was passed down to you,” Sadie said as she leaned over her plate. “You’re meant to find out what happened.”
Ethan chuckled. He did that a lot, and she liked it. Yes, there was a seriousness in a first impression, but talking with him reveal a laid back nature that made him easy to like.
“I don’t know if I’m meant to find the wreck, but I damn sure mean to find it,” he quipped. “So, what about you? I heard that you found the journal in your house.”
She nodded as gooey egg yolk oozed in her mouth, and she wasn’t about to allow it to dribble from her lips. Her talking-while-eating timing never had evolved. Ethan, however, seemed patient. He took a couple bites while waiting. She got the food down and took a healthy swig of juice.
“I bought a house last year,” she told him. “I was the only kid on one side, so I got an inheritance from my gramma. My mom got the family house, but I have no desire to live with her.”
“I can imagine.”
She was sure he couldn’t, but she appreciated the sentiment.
“It’s small and old, so I’ve been working on it bit by bit.” She pointed her fork at him. “You haven’t lived until you’ve had to pull water-damaged floor from around your toilet. In the only bathroom. By yourself. With mold.” She bounced her fork with each new point.
“If that’s all it takes, I have lived plenty,” he assured her. “The house Gramps left had a ruined floor in the bathroom, and his old houseboat needed a lot of repairs. I fixed up both places, and I live on the houseboat now.”
His eyes twinkled again. How did he do that? Seriously, she needed to know how he did that?
“You know my pain. Therefore I rest my case,” she informed him. “The journal was in a bedroom wall when I found it. I don’t know why the owner would hide the journal in a wall like that, but I don’t mind. I wouldn’t have it otherwise.” She also wouldn’t have met a certain hunky guy from Miami who happened to be a descendant of the ship’s original owner. “It was the wall between my room and the closet in the other bedroom. I took it to the natural history museum because they do culture stuff as well. There’s a person there who has helped.”
“What about the library?” Ethan wondered. “How did that happen?”
“My friend Erika works there. You met her. We’ve been friends since second grade. I talked to the lady at the museum into working with us to put up the exhibit.”
Ethan’s brows raised. “That wouldn’t be Liz Bell, would it?”
“Yeah. You know her?”
“No, we haven’t met.” His jaw tensed for a moment and then relaxed. “She’s consulting on the, um, the emergency case we picked up.” He got a distant look that made Sadie both want and fear to ask about the emergency. “It sounds like Professor Bell is quite the expert.”
Sadie nodded. “I still own it, but wow, it’s over three hundred years old, and I was afraid of doing something bad to it. Liz found an intern who volunteered to scan the pages so more people can read it. And decipher it.” Ethan laughed and shook his head. “What did I say that’s so funny?”
“It’s not you. You’re perfect,” he said as the chuckles died down. “It’s the whole thing with historical documents being scanned in ‘as we speak.’ This keeps happening as I look into the Dragon’s Rogue’s history. One of these days, I may luck out and find all the documents already scanned in and emailed to me. That’s only happened once. All the rest? College students and history experts are going over recovered archives.”
Sadie almost missed everything he said after “you’re perfect.” He clearly hadn’t meant it in a romantic sense, but it sounded magnificent coming from his lips. Damn, she needed to get back into the dating scene. Too many months without a date had her imagining things.
“Tell me about the journal,” Ethan said as her attention snapped back. “I still don’t know much about it.”
“It was written by Captain Grendel himself,” she revealed. Ethan’s delight was the expression she’d hoped to see. “The person who hid it in the wall didn’t leave any clues as to who they were. The house is about a hundred years old, so it couldn’t have been anyone from the crew or their kids.”
<
br /> Ethan tapped a finger on the table. “It sounds like someone either found it, or it was passed down through family.”
“That’s what I’m thinking.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if we’ll ever figure it out.”
“Maybe there are clues in the journal,” Ethan suggested. “What are the beginning and end dates?” Something about his voice made it sound urgent.
“It started after he took the ship in sixteen eighty-five. It ended in missing pages.” His keen interest in dates struck her. “Does that mean something?”
“Maybe. They found torn pages of Grendel’s private journal in South Carolina. If they’re from this book, that’s a hell of a coincidence.”
“The last entry is from sixteen ninety-one,” she told him. “Does that help?”
“Yeah, it does.” He looked ready to jump from his seat. “The ship disappeared in sixteen ninety-two during a typhoon… well, we call them hurricanes these days. The pages in Charleston were taken from Grendel a few months before when the locals tried to hang him. His crew apparently got him out of there, but we don’t have details.”
“We need to find out who brought the journal over,” Sadie insisted. “If it weren’t so late, I’d go straight to the records department to see who built my house a hundred years ago.”
Ethan grinned. “I have a little time tomorrow morning. Want help?”
Sadie’s ears felt hot again. Would she ever stop being so easily embarrassed? Her mom kept telling her she needed to grow up even though she was in her mid-twenties. As much as Sadie tried to ignore her mother, the constant criticism she faced as a kid had stuck. The ease with which she got embarrassed was one of those things that her mother had harped on her about, and now she felt like a baby any time she blushed.
“I had plans for the morning, but Erika can’t go.” Sorry, Erika, but I gotta take this chance, Sadie thought. “I have a couple spots reserved to go snorkeling at Hanauma Bay. You can have that reservation if you want. May as well do something fun if you can.”
He thought about it for a moment and then nodded. “That sounds great, actually. It’s been a while since I’ve gone snorkeling.”
Sadie remembered something. “Since you were a SEAL, I bet snorkeling is boring.” She flinched. “I guess you’d rather dive the reef.”
“It depends. Do you dive?”
“No, I only go snorkeling. It’s fun enough for me.” Not to mention that she was terrified of staying underwater longer than necessary. Jumping into deep water only to surface was one thing. Staying under? Nope. No, no, and nope, not for her. “Is that lame?”
“No, not at all. Diving isn’t for everyone. Besides, I’ve heard Hamauna is one of the best places to see a vibrant reef system.” He grinned. “I’ve never seen a Hawaiian triggerfish.”
“You mean a humuhumunukunukuapua’a?”
That grin turned into a broad smile. “I still can’t say that damn fish’s name,” he said with a laugh. “I figure that with the work they’ve done to clean this area, I better see one today.”
Sadie perked up. She was a big fan of the efforts out there. “They’re working to keep it healthy.” She finished with her food and pushed the plate to the end of the table. “It’s a protected area now, and they limit the number of visitors each day.”
“You have my cell number,” Ethan said with a smile. “Text me the details, and I’ll meet you there.”
A yawn snuck up on Sadie. She tried to muffle it with her hand but didn’t quite catch it. The contagious yawn got to Ethan, and he also tried to suppress it. Badly.
“Anything else you want to know about the journal tonight?” she asked. “I have to tell you, though, I had a hard time reading it because the writing was so faint, and some of the wording was confusing. It’ll be so much easier once they’re done scanning it.”
“How did you know what to put in the display?” he asked, something that she’d hoped he’d bring up.
“Liz and Erika worked with the intern to get the basics,” Sadie explained. “Another historian or two also helped. There are some sketches and descriptions, especially at the beginning. His wife made that flag of his.”
“Did you get her name?” Ethan asked with a hint of excitement.
“No, and that was weird. It was like he didn’t want anyone to identify her, just in case.”
“I have to show you something,” Ethan told her as he pulled out his phone.
He brought up some photos and turned the screen her direction. The photo showed a line of gravestones. Most were simple except for the with Eva Finch’s name on it. Down the line were familiar names of people from the Dragon’s Rogue, and they were all years after the ship vanished. At the end was a photo of a grave, dated many years later, of Johnny Finch.
Sadie squeaked and then covered her mouth. This was like seeing real-life proof of a favorite movie or book.
“Where is this?” she asked. “And was that Finch-Hatton’s wife?”
A shadow crossed Ethan’s face. “Grand Bahama, near Freeport. I haven’t checked to see if it’s still there since the hurricane. They have too much to worry about to humor a random treasure hunter.” The sadness in his eyes spoke to more than the potential of a lost graveyard.
“Do you know anyone living on the island?” she asked in a soft voice.
“Yeah. Sort of. He’s one of my grandfather’s old friends. He was in failing health when I saw him last month.”
Sadie instinctively reached over to touch his hands. He looked up in surprise, and she jerked her hands back. Stupid, stupid, she berated herself. Her touchy-feely nature got in the way during her life more than she liked to think about.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Habit. You looked sad.”
He reached over and squeezed her hands. She could’ve sworn she felt a tiny zap, like static, but nicer.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said in a quiet tone. “I like that you care. That says a lot about you. It’s no wonder you’re a paramedic.”
She looked down to where he’d released her hands but hadn’t withdrawn his.
“Some days, it sucks because we get patients who refuse help. They can’t afford it, or they’re afraid they can’t.” She shook her head. “Not to mention that riding with us is an out-of-pocket thing.”
Ethan started to say something, but his phone buzzed once on the table. He looked down and checked the message.
“One of our people just sliced her thumb open at the office,” he said. “I’m surprised anyone’s over there this late. I need to call real quick.”
“Of course.” Saide signaled the server for their bill.
“Abbie, are you okay?” he asked into the phone. After a pause, he said, “Yeah, the others are probably asleep… Yeah, I have the car. I’ll be right over.”
“Sorry, Sadie, I have to go pick her up,” he explained after hanging up. “She doesn’t have a ride, and she doesn’t want to call an Uber and bleed in their car.”
“I’ll come with you,” Sadie decided. “I’ll take a look and see how deep it looks.”
Ethan raised a brow. “Are you sure? You were yawning a few minutes ago.”
“I’m good. Besides, it’s an excuse to see inside the old firehouse. It’s been a long time.”
“Okay, off we go.” He left two twenties on the table, more than enough for a great tip. “May as well, since you have the skills. I’ll meet you there.”
“Lead on, oh Captain my Captain,” she joked.
“Aye, aye, Admiral,” he laughed. “Full steam ahead.”
CHAPTER 11
I didn’t know what to make of Sadie. She was bright and charming and easily embarrassed, which was too damned cute. I had the impression that she was burning out at her work. It was a shame to see that happen in a person early in their career. She couldn’t have been more than her mid or late twenties. On the other hand, I understood the feeling of not being able to help people for reasons beyond my control.
We pulled our cars int
o the old fire station a while after midnight. Sadie’s older Toyota Prius fit between the office’s Impala and Suburban with room to spare. She grabbed an orange duffel bag from the back of her car and looked at the dark windows on the second floor.
“I remember riding my bike home during summer breaks, and I’d stop to watch the firefighters walk around when the lights came on in the evenings,” she told me. “They moved to a new building by the time I went on to high school. After that, people were able to rent the spaces for meetings and events.”
“It won’t be firefighters, but there’ll be people up to all hours,” I said as I unlocked the door. “If not upstairs, then on the first floor.” I led her into the half-lit open space. Stark was nowhere in sight. “Abbie, I’m here.”
Our newest special agent emerged from the office that Meisha had shown us on our first visit. She cradled her left hand, which was swaddled in gauze. Stark found a nearby chair and sunk into it.
“Who’s that?” she asked as we approached.
“This is Sadie Rogers.” I pulled another two chairs close to Stark. “She’s the one who found the pirate journal, and she’s a paramedic.”
“I’d offer to shake hands, but…” Stark said with a sheepish look. “What’d Marston do, steal you from your crew?”
“Nah, my shift’s over. I just haven’t gotten out of uniform yet.” Sadie sat her duffel by her feet, put on nitrile gloves, and held out her hands. “Your name is Abbie?”
Sadie’s switch from sweet and a little silly to professional poise impressed me. In my line of work, free spirits either settled or didn’t last long. Holm was one of the rare ones who managed to balance the two, at least he usually was. I missed his carefree side and hoped to see it again.
“Abbie Stark, yes.” Stark shook her head. “I was an idiot. I tried to get to a leaky pipe in the office area, but I slipped and caught my hand on the damn ladder.”
“Why the hell’d you do that?” I stared at her. Of all of us from the Miami office, Stark was the most level headed. “You should’ve waited until morning when others were here.”