Low Tide (25 page)

She was sitting on the back deck, nursing the beer she’d ordered an hour earlier, when Bennett Boudreaux spoke up beside her.

“Hello, Maggie,” he said cheerfully.

Maggie looked up at him, and she must have looked a sight, with salty, windblown hair, a decent sunburn, and reddened eyes. His smile disappeared.

“Hello, Mr. Boudreaux.”

“Are you alright?”

She half-smiled at him. “I will be eventually.”

“May I sit?”

She nodded, and he sat down beside her, a glass of scotch in his hand.

“It’s none of my business, but can I ask what’s wrong?”

Maggie looked at him for a moment and swallowed. “The girl I was trying to help. She killed herself today.”

Those brilliant blue eyes blinked a few times, and Maggie thought, inappropriately, how beautiful they really were.

“The girl on the bridge?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.”

He crossed himself, then was quiet for a moment, and seemed to be searching her face. “Maggie, I’m genuinely sorry. I truly am.”

She nodded at him. She believed him, too.

“I was still trying to find someone that might help. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Mr. Boudreaux, I appreciate that.”

They looked at each other for a good minute. Maggie saw concern on his face and she was almost certain that the concern was real. Finally, he slid his glass toward her on the wooden table. She picked it up and took a long swallow.

“Thank you,” she said again, as she put the glass down. She looked away, not wanting to see someone who might or might not be her enemy looking at her with pity.

“Mr. Boudreaux, do you remember telling me that when you do something good in private it’s because it’s the right thing to do?”

“Yes.”

“With all of your money and all of your connections, I bet you could do something for girls like Grace. For parents like Grace.”

Boudreaux sat back in his chair and considered her, took a sip of his scotch. “Like what, exactly?”

Maggie huffed out a frustrated laugh. “If I knew that, I would have asked you to do it already.”

“If the occasion weren’t so sad, I’d be laughing. Not at you, at the irony of a cop trying to turn the town hood into a social activist.”

Maggie had to smile at that.

“Do you think it’s such a good thing to let yourself get so deeply hurt, personally, by your cases?”

Maggie thought about that a second. “Do you think it would be such a good thing if I didn’t?”

He nodded at her, and they each took a sip of his drink.

“Are you here with your family?” she asked, to change the subject.

“No. No, a friend and I are headed out to do some night fishing,” he said. “I just popped in for a quick drink while I wait for him.”

Maggie nodded, then stood up. He stood as well.

“I need to get home, it’s been a long day.”

Boudreaux nodded, still frowning at her. “Are you okay to drive?”

“Yes,” she said, and almost managed a polite smile. “That’s all I’ve had.”

“Well, then good. Go be with your family, Maggie.”

She nodded again, then turned and headed for the stairs.

Maggie had intended to go straight home, but she headed east instead and pulled into Ten Hole down by Battery Park. She parked on the patch of grass that served as a parking area, and walked down the dock to David’s houseboat.

He was sitting on the back sun deck, reading a paperback book. He looked up when he heard her footsteps and stood up quickly as she stopped by his gangway.

“Hey, baby,” he said, and moved toward the gangway.

She held up her hand and he stopped.

“Don’t get off the boat,” she said.

“What’s going on? You look awful.”

“A girl jumped off the 300 today.”

“I heard,” he said quietly.

“I was trying to help her…but she just couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t what?”

“Wait, I guess.”

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“She was Ricky Alessi’s girlfriend. She was the one living with Alessi.”

Some understanding passed over David’s face, and he looked sad.

“I need you to understand. Her name was Grace Carpenter and she’s dead because of the business that you’re in.”

“I don’t have anything do with meth, Maggie, you know that!”

“It doesn’t matter, David. It’s all the same. It’s all the same money and it’s all the same people.”

David blinked at her a few times, stung.

“She was three years older than our daughter, David, and she’s dead because she was with someone who did the same thing you’re doing.”

They stared at each other a moment.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” Maggie said. “I just needed you to know.”

Then she turned and walked back up the dock.

Bennett Boudreaux pulled back the throttle on his boat’s engine and the noise level dropped as he slowed to a cruise. They were out past St. George, in the Gulf proper, one of Bennett’s favorite areas to fish.

“I love night fishing,” he said over the engine. “The quiet, the stars, the night sky. It’s incredible. You really have to experience it to appreciate it, I guess.”

He cut the engine and the boat slowly came to a stop. “This looks like a good spot.”

He dropped the anchor and shook out his hands, tingling from the vibration of the wheel.

“It’s important to take some time to enjoy the simple things. But like I said in the office the other day, family is my first priority.”

He reached out and took Sport’s hand.

“And you’re just not family, old chum.”

Then he threw Sport’s arm into the dark, churning sea.

READ ON FOR A SNEAK PEEK AT

RIPTIDE

BOOK 2 IN

THE FORGOTTEN COAST

FLORIDA SUSPENSE SERIES

(Find All of Dawn Lee McKenna’s Books at Amazon!)

I am deeply indebted to several people for helping me make this series happen.

Thank you so much to the Betafish, for taking time out of their lives to read each chapter as it was written, and keep me from writing anything stupid or inauthentic.

I am incredibly grateful to John Solomon, executive director of the Apalachicola Chamber of Commerce, and formerly of the Franklin County Sheriff’s Office, for helping me sound like I know something about law enforcement in Apalach.

To the real Wayne Stinnett, friend, mentor, and author of the bestselling Jesse McDermitt series, set in the Florida Keys, your belief in me has meant more than you know.

I could not have published this book without the help of three other fabulous professionals. Tammi Labrecque, of larksandkatydids.com, your editing prowess was invaluable. Power to the Oxford comma. Shayne Rutherford, of darkmoongraphics.com, thank you for creating four beautiful book covers from thin air. Finally, Colleen Sheehan, of wdrbookdesign.com—once again, you have made plain words on a white background look like works of art. You amaze me, my friend.

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