by Mark Stone
“Who are you talking to?” I asked. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“That doesn’t matter,” he said. “They’re everywhere. Besides, if you don’t let me go, it won’t matter. He’s here. He’s after me.” He shook his head. “I thought it was over. He was supposed to be dead. I thought I was out of it and now he’s back? How is that even possible?” Tears spilled down his cheeks. “That’s the only reason I did it. I’m not a killer. I would never want to hurt anyone, least of all someone like Emma. I had to though. He’s back now, and he’s going to kill me. This is the only way. I have to get myself out of the game, otherwise-”
Dennis’ body jerked back a little, and he fell. Blood spurted from his chest as he looked up into the sky.
I turned quickly to see a red car speeding away, the window down.
“My, God,” I said, rushing to the hurt man.
“Will you tell her I’m sorry?” he asked, his voice shaking. “Tell Emma I didn’t mean it. I wish she’d have never told me. I wish she’d have just kept her secrets. None of this would have happened. I didn’t want to kill her, but now that he’s back, he wouldn’t have stopped. He would never have stopped.”
“Who?” I asked, swallowing hard. “Who are you talking about?”
“Him,” he answered, his voice already weaker. “Joel Mayberry.”
Chapter 22
“Dillon, would you come here for a minute?” Rebecca asked me, beckoning for me to cross the pier and walk out onto the beach with her. I knew the tone of her voice as well as the look on her face. She had been waiting for an update on the Dennis Chambers’ status for a few hours now, even since she left the hospital to be with me on the Good Storm. She didn’t have to tell me he hadn’t survived. That fact was written all over her.
“Just sit with me,” I said, nodding and looking back out onto the Gulf. So many of my days had been spent out on that glorious water. So much of what my life was had been based on my proximity to it. I was a Florida guy, a Gulf man. Even when I was up in Chicago, this place had been there for me. It had stood stalwart, reminding me even the worst things in life weren’t that bad.
So why couldn’t it remind me of that today? I had been sitting here, outside of my houseboat, for what seemed like an eternity. I called to the water, asking it to soothe me and-for the first time in my life- it refused. What was I supposed to do now?
“You don’t have to say it,” I said as Rebecca sat down next to me, her feet dangling off the pier alongside mine.
“The injuries were just too severe,” she said, nodding and taking my hand, entwining her fingers with my own. “There was nothing anyone could have done.”
“There was something I could have done,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have let it get this far. I should have stopped him before he left the tux shop. I’m not sure why I didn’t.”
“Because you didn’t have proof,” Rebecca suggested. “Because he’s the mayor’s son and questioning him about attempted murder without having so much a shred of evidence aside from the very circumstantial wouldn’t have been in your best interest.”
“It would have been in his though,” I lamented. “If I’d have dragged him down to the station, he’d probably be alive right now.”
“You had no way of knowing that was going to happen, Dillon,” Rebecca said. “Jumping the gun like that would have destroyed whatever case you might have been able to build against Dennis.”
“None of that matters now,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “Not only am I back to square one, but a boy is dead. This wasn’t his fault either. I mean, I know he tried to kill Emma, but he must have felt like his hands were tied. He must have been scared to death.” I took a deep breath. “He told me he wasn’t a killer, and I believe him. I don’t think he wanted to do what he did to Emma and her friends. I think he was just trying to stop what just happened to him from coming to pass.”
“Maybe,” Rebecca said. “But would intent have mattered? Even if you’d have known what he was up against, would it have made you do your job any differently? He was going to try and kill Emma again. He told you as much. You couldn’t have allowed that, even if he felt like his back was against the wall in doing it.” She squeezed my hand. “And, like it or not, you probably couldn’t have changed what happened to him. Unless, of course, he’d have come forward and told you he felt like his life was in jeopardy. Emma did that and that’s a big part of the why she’s still alive right now.”
“It’s this whole damn thing, Rebecca,” I said, blinking hard and looking down at the water. “For a year, it’s been kicking my ass. I don’t know what’s going on. All I know is that I messed up last year and I can’t get my groove back.”
I looked up at her, thankful for the shoulder she always provided for me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, pulling her in and kissing her hard. “This isn’t something you need to worry about right now. You have so much to do. I’m sure your aunt could find better uses of your time than comforting me.” I cleared my throat. “I sent Justin to pick up my grandfather. His flight is supposed to land any minute. I’m sure once he’s here, things will be a lot less-”
“I think we might need to postpone the wedding,” Rebecca said, cutting into my words.
“What?” I asked, my heart landing at the pit of my stomach with a thud. “Why would you say that? Are you having second thoughts?”
“God, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I want to marry you more than anything in the world. You’re my future, you idiot. But you’ll still be my future in a week or in a month, or even in another year. However long it takes to get this whole thing behind us. I just want us to be able to start our marriage fresh, with nothing weighing on us.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, guilt washing over me for even making her feel like she had to say these things to me.
“I don’t want to wait a week or a month or a year,” I said, conscious of the desperation filling my voice. “I don’t necessarily want to wait two days, but there’s not much I can do about that. If there was a priest on this damn pier, I would marry you right this minute. There’s nothing weighing me down when it comes to you. Hell, Rebecca, you are the only thing keeping me going and that’s been true for a long time now. I love you. You’re the person I’m going to spend the rest of my life with and that’s starting in two days.” I blinked at her. “I mean, if you’ll still have me.”
“Shut up, you moron,” she said, smiling and wrapping me up in a hug. “Of course I’ll still have you. I’ll have you forever.”
She leaned in and kissed me again. As her lips pressed against mine, my phone vibrated.
“I’m ignoring it,” I said, muffled against her.
She kissed me hard one more time and pulled away. “I know you better than that. Besides, now that you’re feeling better, I should probably get back to work.”
She looked down at my phone, at Boomer’s name flashing across it.
“Looks like you should too.”
I smiled at her as she got up and walked away. Answering my phone, I was surprised by the panic coming from his voice.
“Dill, what the hell is going on?” he asked.
“I don’t know what you mean?” I admitted, sitting up straight.
“You mustn’t be watching television,” he said. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have to ask me that question.” He huffed loudly. “So, turn your damn TV on and tell me why the mayor is on every damn channel telling the entire city that you and a dead man are responsible for the murder of his son.”
Chapter 23
“Incompetence and downright political bias spearheaded by a detective who not only has both financial and personal ties to my former opponent but also, seems to have carte blanche to do as he pleases, thanks to a lifelong friendship with our chief of police has led to the murder of my son,” Edward Chambers said from behind a podium in front of the mayor’s residence. “Rest assured that I will not stop until this miscarria
ge of justice is dealt with and this horrific and almost certainly systematic abuse of power and privilege is dealt with.”
I stared at the screen unblinkingly. It was the fourth time I had gone through his statement, listening to his words and pinpointing the pain under them. It was like salting an open wound, and I couldn’t stop myself from continuing it.
“That’s enough,” Justin said, flicking the television off and sitting across from Boomer and me at a table in the sheriff’s office. “We need to talk about what to do moving forward.” He looked over at Boomer. “For that, I need you to leave, Boomer.”
“He can stay,” I said, nodding, my voice sounding a million miles away, even to myself.
“He most certainly cannot,” Justin answered. “Ten minutes ago, you hired me to represent you in this matter.”
“Ten minutes ago, you came rushing in here, demanding I take your help,” I corrected him.
“And you said yes,” he answered. “Client, meet your lawyer. If I’m not mistaken though, the mayor is going to come after both of you. He’ll say you were negligent and he’ll say Boomer showed partiality to you in a degree that makes him responsible, too.” He shook his head. “I can’t represent both of you.”
“Why not?” I asked. “You’re a good lawyer. You’re up to it.”
Justin leaned in closer. “Because I’m a good lawyer, I can tell you that representing both of you isn’t a good idea. If this goes to a trail, the mayor will try to paint the two of you as being in cahoots. Both of you having the same council won’t help dissuade the jury or a judge that he’s wrong.”
“He’s right,” Boomer said standing up.
“Of course, I’m right,” Justin answered. “But it’s nice of you to agree with me.” He looked up at Boomer. “I can recommend a good lawyer for you. I’ll even get him to cut you a deal.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Boomer said. “Now, I suppose you guys are going to employ that good old-fashioned lawyer/client privilege. I’ll leave you to it.”
I watched as Boomer left, closing the door behind him. “Do you really think it’ll go that far?” I asked, placing my hands palm down on the table. “You think there will actually be a trial?”
“Usually, I would say no,” Justin said. “It’s a stretch to say you’re responsible. It’s an even bigger stretch to say a man whose been missing for nearly a year is responsible, too. Still, it is the mayor and a very popular mayor at that. I think we’d be remiss not to take as many precautions as possible.” He took a deep breath. “At the very least, I can think of implications for a civil suit.”
“A civil suit?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“Think about it the way he’s going to spin it, Dillon,” Justin said. “Your fiancé was a huge proponent of his chief competitor. She donated to his campaign and both of you went to campaign functions.”
“I’m allowed to have political opinions, Justin,” I said.
“And you’re allowed to have them scrutinized,” he answered. “What’s more, it’s not like you’ve been quiet about the case in the last year. You’re on record as accusing Dennis Chambers of Joel Mayberry’s murder.”
“And they’re saying he’s not even dead,” I answered. “Doesn’t one thing negate the other?”
“It doesn’t negate your intent,” Justin said. “If you thought someone was a murderer, then maybe you wouldn’t be so quick to save him.”
“That’s not who I am,” I answered, anger rushing through me.
“I know that,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean a jury would, especially with you throwing yourself under the bus at every conceivable moment.” He shook his head. “You have to stop that. Do you understand me? No more blaming yourself for all the crap that happens in this town, even if you do believe it’s your fault. You have to live under the assumption that you are under constant surveillance because, when you’re up against someone as powerful as the mayor, you probably are.”
“I don’t do that,” I said, shaking my head. “Blame myself for everything that happens.”
“Please,” Justin scoffed. “You’re a walking apology tour but no more. I’m serious. If you believe you’re responsible, there’s no way in hell I’m going to get a jury to disagree with you.” He sighed loudly. “I just hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“So, do I,” I answered, tapping my fingers nervously against the tabletop. “I’m going to figure this out before it gets that far. I’m going to get to the bottom of it, bring everything out into the open. The truth is all I need. So long as people are able to see it, everything will be okay. Lord knows there’s enough going on without needing to worry about getting myself arrested.”
“You ain’t lying, kid,” Justin said, a smile spreading across his face.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest.
“It means I’m going to take care of all of this to the best of my ability,” Justin said. “But there’s something else we need to talk about first, something that definitely needs to take priority right now.”
My heart jumped. “Priority over an open case and a possible lawsuit. What the hell could that be?”
“You’re getting married the day after tomorrow, Dil,” he said, chuckling. “I’m talking about the damn bachelor party.”
Chapter 24
The boys in blue showed up in full force for my bachelor party the next night. Though I hadn’t given it much thought, it turned out that both Boomer and Justin had. With both of my best friends working together to make this a fun night, I found myself surrounded by some of my favorite people and favorite things.
“You own a boat, right?” Clive, one of my co-workers and a former partner of mine asked, sipping tequila and bopping back and forth to the gentle rocking of the waves tonight. “Like, you live on one if I’m not mistaken.”
“The Good Storm,” I said, nodding in compliance. “Lived on it for a couple of years now. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious as to why you’d want you bachelor party to happen on a boat if you’re spending everyday on one anyway,” he asked, smiling at me and finishing off his drink.
“Because this is Florida, Clive,” I answered, putting my feet up on the table between us. “If something doesn’t happen on a boat, then what’s the point?”
It was true. Some people might have thought the idea of a fishing trip as a bachelor party was pretty lame. I mean, where are the strippers? Where are the hookers? Where’s the last night of freedom before tying myself down to the same woman for the rest of my life?
Well, here’s the thing about that. I had never been the type of guy who loved strip joints that much, hookers never struck my fancy, and it turns out you don’t mind tying yourself to a woman if she’s as great as mine was.
Besides, for me, you couldn’t beat fishing with a ten foot pole, which I had beside me at the moment. I, my friends, and my grandfather (because a party wasn’t a party if the Old Man wasn’t there) had spent the day out in the Gulf, fishing for snapper and sharing well wishes and old stories. Now that the sun was down, we were drinking ourselves into stupors, and I was trying desperately to outrun the way my mind kept reminding me that everything wasn’t okay.
Thank God for friends and tequila. They had always helped with that.
“Makes as much sense as anything,” Clive said, standing. “I’m going to go get another one,” he said, shaking his glass. “Want me to grab two?”
“Nah,” I answered, spying my glass. “I’ve already had too much, and Lord knows, I’d rather not be hung over on my wedding day.”
“Good man,” Clive said, smiling at me as he walked away.
With him gone and me at my alcohol limit, the thoughts I had-until now- successfully banished to the back of my mind started to jump forward again. I thought about Lilith, about Dennis, about Joel, and both the boys’ fathers. I thought about this stupid game that had wormed its way into Naples and all that it might mean. I thought about my role
in all of this and what I needed to do in order to fix things.
“Pull your head out of there,” a familiar voice said from beside me. I looked up to find my grandfather standing there, a club soda in hand. He looked thinner than he had before, but I couldn’t tell how much of that might be from the cancer and how much was because his new girlfriend was making sure he lived the right way.
Whatever the case, I was happy to see him. Something about him being here, standing in the same space breathing up the same air, put me at peace. It was like, if my grandfather was around, nothing could ever be too bad.
“What?” I asked, looking up at him.
“I know that face, Dilly,” he said. “Which means, I know what the look on it means. I’m not sure what you’re thinking about, but I can tell you it isn’t good.”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but falling into the idea that he might be able to fix things.
“I messed up, Grandpa,” I said, grabbing my glass but stopping short of drinking from its contents. “Things are bad, and I’m not sure what to do.”
I wanted him to look at me as independent. The last thing either of us needed was for him to think I was sinking without him. I wanted him to live out the remainder of his life happy, free of having to worry about me.
“You think any of us ever do?” he asked, darting an eyebrow at me. “Bad stuff happens. Sometimes it happens to us. Sometimes it happens so close to us that it can feel like it’s happened to us. That’s what life is. No amount of self-pity is going to change that.”
“I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself,” I said, blinking hard at him.
“The hell you weren’t,” he scoffed. “I changed your diapers. I know how your brain works. It’s okay to feel lost, Son. It’s okay to look at the crappy things in the world and want to fix them. It’s even okay to try. Hell, it’s what makes you the best person I’ve ever known. It’s not okay to forget though.”