Low Tide

by Dawn Lee McKenna

  Dwight, AKA Dudley Do-right, walked into the office, carrying a pink message slip in one hand and a gigantic Styrofoam cup of sweet tea in the other.

  “Hey Maggie? Lafayette County called. They want some info on some guy you busted a few months back. Apparently, they’re holding him on an assault with intent.”

  He handed her the pink slip and she looked at the message.

  “Quinn Wilcox?” She tossed the slip on her desk. “Tell them to just take him outside and shoot him.”

  “Will do.”

  “Thanks. I’ll call them back in a bit,” she said, turning back to her computer.

  “What time did you get out of here this morning?”

  “I’m not sure. Shortly before I came back.”

  “You want me to go grab you a cup of coffee?”

  “No, our coffee’s crap,” she said.

  “Okee-doke.”

  Dwight started to turn away and Maggie sighed.

  “Hey, Dudley? I’m sorry. I’m a jerk today.”

  “It’s all good, Maggie,” Dwight said, and shot her a grin.

  “Hey.”

  Maggie looked up to see Wyatt leaning in her doorway.

  “Come talk to me a minute,” he said.

  “See you later, Mags,” Dwight said as Maggie followed Wyatt out.

  Once they were inside his office, Wyatt shut the door. He walked over to his desk and sat on the edge of it and Maggie leaned up against the file cabinet by the door.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  “You heard from the girl?”

  Maggie brushed some stray bangs out of her eyes and behind her ear. “No,” she said.

  Wyatt sighed and folded his arms across his chest. They stared at each other a moment, then Maggie got uncomfortable and focused on the palm tree outside his window. When Wyatt didn’t say anything, she looked back at him.

  “What?” she asked him.

  “What are you thinking about that?”

  Maggie shook her head and threw her hands up. “I’m thinking my hands are tied.”

  “It’s troubling.”

  “Well, yeah,” Maggie said with half a laugh that she didn’t mean to be derisive. “I can’t exactly swing by and check on her.”

  “James and Cooper went over there a little while ago and asked Alessi some questions,” Wyatt said. “He didn’t know thing one as far as his pals were concerned. Of course. They didn’t see Grace, but they heard kids in the house.”

  “They didn’t go in?”

  “They asked. Alessi came out instead.”

  Maggie sighed.

  “We don’t have probable cause or a warrant.”

  Maggie chewed on a thumbnail and stared out the window.

  “Maggie, there was no meth and no Alessi. Just a bunch of money and a bunch of pissed off bad guys. Any chance she was lying to you? That Alessi did this for some reason?”

  Maggie shook her head. “No. She’s scared. She just wants out. And Alessi doesn’t dislike or have it in for anybody enough to let a couple hundred thousand dollars get impounded. It’s not his style, anyway. He would just kill ‘em.”

  Wyatt nodded and watched her for a minute.

  “He had to have been waiting for a call or signal from Joey. He was probably waiting right down the road.”

  “You should go. What are your kids up to?”

  Maggie looked at her watch. “Kyle’s got a game at six.”

  “Why don’t you go home, take a shower, and eat something?” Wyatt asked. “Go enjoy your own kids for the night, get your mind off someone else’s.”

  “Yeah,” Maggie agreed. “Are you leaving soon?”

  “I have a meeting with the Mayor shortly, and then I’m supposed to have a conference call with Liberty and Bay Counties. By then, I’ll be on my face, so I’m going to go home and sleep.”

  “Good,” Maggie said.

  They looked at each other for a minute, Wyatt with his long, muscular legs stretched out in front of him, and Maggie felt a pull to just cross the room and lean on him for a moment. She was a strong woman and proud of it, but not so proud that she pretended a man couldn’t be a comfort and a relief. She wondered what it would feel like to just put her head on his chest and rest, and she realized that, in her imagination, it didn’t feel as foreign as it should. She was almost positive that it would feel comfortable and right.

  Just as she realized that they’d been staring at each other for a few beats too long, Wyatt spoke.

  “I suspect that this is going to get difficult faster than I expected,” he said.

  “What is?”

  “Staying professional.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, wondering if he was changing his mind, and realizing that this possibility scared her.

  “Don’t be,” Wyatt said. “But, you’re going to have to stop standing there looking at me like that.”

  Maggie felt suddenly and immensely self-conscious. “Like what?”

  “Like I’m looking at you.”

  Kyle’s team was down 11-9 in the fourth and final inning, and it was their turn at bat.

  Maggie was perched on a bench near the dugout, preferring to bypass conversation with other parents on the bleachers. Little Tommy Baines was at bat and Doug Raymond was on deck. Maggie watched Kyle put his batting helmet on in the dugout. He would follow Doug.

  Kyle looked over at Maggie and she gave him a thumbs-up. He was one of the fastest runners on the team, but also one of the smallest, and one of the weakest batters. This was only his second year playing, and he had yet to master his batting stance.

  Maggie was focused on Tommy in the batter’s box and didn’t notice Bennett Boudreaux until he sat down next to her.

  “Hello, Maggie,” he said.

  “Mr. Boudreaux. How are you?”

  “I’m good, thank you. You?”

  Maggie nodded and looked back at the field as Tommy connected and made it to first.

  “My grandson was supposed to have a game on the other field, but the other team had to forfeit,” Boudreaux said.

  “What team does your grandson play for?” Maggie asked to be polite.

  “The Braves.”

  Maggie nodded again, then watched Kyle, now on deck outside the dugout and taking a few practice swings.

  “Kyle, keep that back foot down, baby,” she called.

  Kyle turned and looked at her, gave her an “okay” sign and took another swing. His back heel still came up off the ground as he swung, costing him momentum and power.

  “Hey, Kyle?” Boudreaux called, getting up. “Let me show you something, son.”

  Maggie watched as Boudreaux walked over to Kyle.

  “Hey son, look here.” Boudreaux took Kyle gently by the shoulders and turned him back around to face away from him. “Go ahead and get that bat up.”

  Kyle put his bat up over his shoulder and Boudreaux put his right hand on Kyle’s right knee.

  “Bend that knee, keep all your weight on this foot here,” Boudreaux said. “And imagine that you’ve got a live scorpion under that heel. As long you stay on top of him, you’re okay. But if you let him loose, he’s gonna sting you. So if you lift that heel, you better already be running, right?”

  Boudreaux looked up at Maggie and winked. She couldn’t help the hair standing up just a bit on the back of her neck, and took a drink of her sweet tea as an excuse to look away.

  Kyle thought a second, then nodded, as Doug struck out and headed back to the dugout.

  “Alright, you go try that, son,” Boudreaux said, and made his way back to Maggie’s bench as Kyle headed for the batter’s box.

  Kyle’s first swing was a strike, his second a foul ball. Both times, his back heel came up, though not as much as before.

  “He’s gonna sting you, son!” Boudreaux called. Kyle turned around to look at Boudreaux and Maggie, then nodded and got ready for the pitch.

  Maggie and Boudreaux both stood up and clapped when Kyle hit a decent grounder o
ut toward third base. The infielder missed it and it headed on out to left field. It was enough to get him to first, and Tommy to third. Maggie and Boudreaux sat back down as the next kid came to bat.

  “Cute kid,” Boudreaux said. “Looks just like his dad. Once he gets his batting down, he’ll play like his dad, too.”

  Maggie looked over at Boudreaux.

  “I’ve got sons your age, remember?” He said. “I’ve seen David play many times.”

  They looked back at the field, as the next batter hit one out to right field. Maggie and Boudreaux joined the cheering as Doug and Kyle both slid home and their teammate made it to second. Kyle looked over at Maggie, brushing the dust from his pants, his smile wide and proud.

  “Good job, Kyle!” she called, and sat back down.

  The next kid hit a home run, but the batter after him struck out. Kyle’s team headed out to the infield. The score was now 12-11 in favor of Kyle’s team. They just needed to hold the other team there. Maggie looked over at Boudreaux.

  “Does my ex-husband work for you?”

  Boudreaux squinted over at her.

  “In what capacity?”

  “In any capacity.”

  “No,” he said. “He doesn’t work for me. In any capacity.”

  Maggie nodded and turned back to the game. So did Boudreaux. After a moment, he spoke again.

  “I enjoyed doing business with your husband when he was still oystering. He worked hard, and he worked hard because he wanted to do well for his family.”

  Maggie looked back at him. “Yes, he did.”

  “That new boat. He made a bad decision, but he made it for the right reasons,” Boudreaux said. “There was no way for him to know BP was going to piss all over our bay.”

  “I know that,” she said evenly. “I didn’t divorce him because he went out of business.”

  Boudreaux nodded and held up a hand to acknowledge that.

  “This other thing, well, again, maybe he made a bad decision, but he made it for honorable reasons.”

  Before she answered, Maggie looked toward the bleachers automatically, although she knew they couldn’t be overheard.

  “You think running drugs is honorable?” she asked him.

  “I think wanting to feed your family is honorable,” Boudreaux answered quietly.

  “We were eating.”

  “On your paycheck,” Boudreaux said. “That’s hard for a man who values work.”

  Maggie shook her head. She doubted she’d ever spent ten minutes in Boudreaux’s company before they found Gregory on the beach. Now he was giving her relationship advice.

  “Maybe one day you’ll be able to forgive him for his mistakes,” Boudreaux said.

  “You think I’m judgmental,” Maggie said.

  “No, I think you have standards that are difficult for anyone to live up to, including you.”

  They both looked out to the field automatically, as the parents on the other team applauded a base hit. Then Maggie looked back at Boudreaux and shook her head.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Until last Saturday, you only knew me to say ‘hello’ to. Now you’re offering me advice on standards and ethics.”

  “Well, first of all, I know more about you than you probably think,” Boudreaux said pleasantly. “Secondly, while I appreciate the irony of your being counseled by the town villain—”

  “I didn’t say that,” Maggie interrupted.

  “You don’t have to. Look, it’s all very polite, and usually more convenient, if we both pretend that you don’t know I’m somewhat shady, but I think we can just be honest with each other.”

  “Okay,” Maggie said. “You know, some people think maybe you’re considering grooming me to replace Gordon Bellows.”

  “I thought you did,” he said.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I said we could be honest, not stupid,” he said with a smile. “But you’re no Gordon Bellows.”

  “No.”

  “We’ll go ahead and just admit that I have some business dealings that aren’t as squeaky clean as others and that you know that. Everybody knows that,” he continued. “So now we can just talk like people.”

  He spread his hands, waiting for some kind of agreement. Maggie just nodded.

  “You have a very strict moral code. Everybody knows that, too, including me, and I happen to like it. I have one, too. It’s different from yours in some ways, but I’d bet we’d agree quite a bit about what we believe is right or wrong.”

  “You think so, Mr. Boudreaux?”

  “Yes, Maggie, I do,” he said. “As we get to know each other a little better, you may find we’re not as entirely different as you’d expect.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, we don’t really know that yet, do we?” Boudreaux answered. “But for starters, I’d say we both understand that law and justice aren’t always the same thing.”

  Maggie felt those hairs again as they stared at each other. She still felt his eyes were a remarkable blue, but she was suddenly reminded why blue was considered a cool color. He was smiling, but his eyes were cold, if such a thing could be said.

  “I work for the law,” she said.

  “But you believe in justice,” he said. “So do I.”

  At that moment, Maggie had no doubt that Boudreaux knew what had happened with her and Gregory. She was also fairly certain that he suspected she’d made Gregory pay for it. What she didn’t know was how he felt about that, or what he wanted from her.

  “Within limits,” she said quietly.

  “But limits are such individual things, aren’t they?” Boudreaux asked. “And so changeable. As I know very well.”

  Maggie wasn’t sure how she wanted to respond to that, so she didn’t. She heard a ruckus, on the field and in the bleachers, but she didn’t look away from Boudreaux’s gaze.

  “Why are we having these conversations, Mr. Boudreaux?”

  “Because I think, if things were different, if a lot of things were different, we would actually be friends.”

  Maggie looked at him for a moment. “I can’t honestly say that’s not true.”

  He smiled at her.

  “As hard as you might find this to believe, I genuinely like you,” he said. “And I’d like you to understand me just a little.”

  He looked over at the field. The teams were lined up and high-fiving each other. Kyle’s team had won.

  “Well, look at that,” Boudreaux said to Maggie, as he stood. “The underdogs prevailed.”

  Maggie stood up as well.

  “Why do you want me to understand you?”

  He looked at her for a moment, his smile gone.

  “Because one of these days, you’ll probably need to.”

  They both looked as Kyle ran past them, smiling, on his way to the dugout for his things.

  “I’ve got to go. Goodnight, Maggie.”

  “Goodnight, Mr. Boudreaux.”

  As she watched him walk away, she thought that maybe flies didn’t fly into spider webs because the webs were invisible. Maybe they flew into the webs because the spider didn’t really look so bad.

  “I told you to quit lyin’ to me, you stupid little skank!”

  Ricky had his hand wrapped so tightly around Grace’s throat that it was hard to breathe, even through her mouth. The blood in her nose was running down her throat, and she didn’t know if she was going to suffocate or drown.

  She pulled at his large hand with both of hers, and she heard the pounding of blood in her ears over the sound of little Rose’s crying. The baby was in her carrier on top of the kitchen table, just out of Grace’s reach. Ricky had pushed the chair Grace was in almost to the wall when he’d grabbed her throat.

  Ricky leaned over and stuck his face right up into hers. His pupils were huge, so huge that his eyes almost seemed black, and he was dripping now with the sweat, that telltale meth sweat that smelled of cat pee and rage.

  “You want to keep lying to me
, Grace? You wanna keep lyin’?”

  She tried to speak, but there was no air. Her lips opened and closed, but nothing came out, or went in.

  Suddenly he let go with a shove so hard that her chair almost tipped over backwards. She took in an involuntary gulp of air so big that it hurt her chest, and a sound came out of her that reminded her of when she was in labor with Rose. One hand went to her aching throat and she held the other up in the air. Ricky leaned over again, and put both hands on the arms of her chair.

  “You got somethin’ to say, now? You got somethin’ true to say now, you ugly little tramp?”

  “I didn’t do nothin’!” she gasped. “I didn’t!”

  “How’d they know we was gonna be there, Grace? Huh? Explain it to me, then!”

  “I don’t know!” Her voice sounded like someone had made her swallow sandpaper.

  He stuck a finger in her face.

  “There was only a handful of people that knew we was gonna be there.”

  “I told you it wasn’t me, Ricky!” She was starting to panic, to lose control of her fear, and wished she was able to take a deep breath.

  Too fast for her to even try to block it, his palm came straight at her face. He grabbed her face in his hand and pushed. Her chair tilted backwards on its back two legs, and her head and the back of the chair hit the wall.

  She flailed like a crab on its back, legs kicking, trying to find solid ground in the air or to right the chair so she wouldn’t be hanging from the wall by her face. He pressed harder, and she was sure that if the walls had been more than cheap fiberboard, her skull would have collapsed on itself. She felt hot tears streaming down her face, and was surprised she had any left.

  He leaned his weight into her through his hand and then pushed off. The suddenness of it, of being free, put her even more off balance, and the chair skidded out from under her. Her butt hit hard and she felt an electric shock in the base of her spine, but she scrambled to her feet as Ricky stepped closer to the table and reached out to little Rose’s carrier.

  “Baby’s cryin’,” he said, smiling as he grabbed the back of the carrier and gently rocked it.