Lonely Coast

by Jack Hardin

  Ellie followed the sidewalk and quickly searched faces, moving from one to the next, as she passed up the art galleries and hip restaurants that made the River District the gem that it was.

  She felt like she was pushing a boulder uphill. Peter, if he was here, could be anywhere, and there was an unlimited number of places to hide a bomb. She finally reached Centennial Park, surveyed the benches and grass, and then turned around and headed back down the street. Her eyes roved over the docks at Legacy Harbour Marina as she crossed the street and started a search from the other side.

  She froze. A mustached man that matched Peter’s physical attributes was moving down the street at a hurried pace. He had a cylindrical bag on his back. Ellie skirted a moving stroller and ran toward him. Her heart was beating frantically now, and just as she reached him, he dropped his phone and leaned down to pick it up. He turned to her and she pulled up, smiling quickly at him before continuing on.

  It wasn’t Peter. The man was in his early fifties, and when he bent down, Ellie saw that the bag was actually a folded yoga mat.

  She stopped and surveyed a grassy lawn that served as a break between the buildings. The lawn stretched twenty yards from the edge of the street to the river’s seawall, and people were laid out across it, some staring at the night sky, some sitting on picnic blankets while live music coming from a nearby restaurant drifted over them.

  Further down the street, Hailey was passing an ice cream shop and heading back her way. A young boy screamed on Ellie’s right, frightening her, and he jolted across the grass as he ran from a friend who was chasing him. A man brushed past Ellie on her left, and she turned to apologize when she froze.

  She brought out her phone and called Hailey. “I’ve got him,” she said quietly.

  A pause. “Okay. I see you.”

  “He’s in front of me. Black T-shirt, dark jeans. He went for the grunge look.”

  Peter Petronovich knew how to wear a disguise. The nose was good—slender, with a natural lean—but there was the slightest blemish in the application that undermined the rest of his look: the wiry mustache and skinny jeans, the beanie riding high on his head, the Vans on his feet.

  “He doesn’t have anything on him,” Ellie said. “Hang back and see if you can find it. Call Phil.”

  She hung up, and Peter glanced over his shoulder. She looked away and feigned interest in a sidewalk sign featuring the evening’s dinner specials. Peter passed an outdoor cafe and glanced over his shoulder again. This time, his eyes found Ellie’s. He looked forward again and then, like he had been fired from a gun, tore off down the street.

  Ellie sprinted after him, evading a sudden flood of pedestrians as she followed. He cut across the street, nearly getting clipped by a truck in the process.

  Ellie watched with a dawning horror as he slowed just enough to work his fingers into the pocket of his jeans. He brought out something small, and Ellie’s heart raced even faster. He tore across the street again, and just as they were passing the marina, the object slipped from his hand. He came to a full stop, darted over to it, and snatched it up. Ellie was nearly on top of him before he picked up speed again and headed in the direction of the park.

  He looked down to the object in his hand, and that’s when an explosion reverberated through the district, rocking the air and sending innocent civilians into a screaming panic.

  The explosion had come from behind her.

  Where Hailey had been.

  Her sudden fury caused her to gain on the terrorist, and she leaped at him just as they entered the park. She came in hard, and they fell to the ground, Peter cursing and flailing as she rolled on top of him. He swung an angry fist around and connected hard on Ellie’s jaw. She saw a blast of starlight as she fell off of him and rolled in the grass. Peter tried to get to his feet, but she recovered and reached for him, grabbing the tail of his shirt and heaving him backward. He fell into her and sent an elbow plowing into her thigh. She winced as she reached up and grabbed a handful of his hair. In the scuffle, his cap had fallen off. She pulled hard, and his chin lifted toward the sky as his head hit the ground.

  He grunted, and Ellie sent a knee into his face, stunning him. She rolled him onto his stomach. He lay there, dazed, but grinning happily. She jumped to her feet. “Peter Petronovich, this time, I win.” Then Ellie brought her foot back and sent the toe of her shoe into the side of his face. His head snapped to the side, and his body went limp.

  She couldn’t leave him here alone, but she wanted to check on her partner and the damage down the street. Mercifully, a city police officer appeared and ran over to her. “Are you the feds?” he asked.

  “Yes. Homeland.”

  He looked at the young man unconscious at her feet. “That’s him?

  “Yes. Can you cuff him?”

  “I would be honored, ma’am.”

  She left him to it and ran back down the street with the same urgency with which she had chased Peter. Everywhere, people were crying, moving quickly away from the blast site. Some, however, had drawn closer to it out of sheer curiosity. Ellie pushed through the crowd. They were huddled around the grassy lawn. Injured people lay strewn across it, holding their heads, or arms, or whatever had been injured in the blast. Up ahead, the top three feet of the seawall had been blown away, and water flowed freely into the grass and toward the street. Ellie saw Hailey pushing herself up off the grass. Water was dripping off of her, and a long red gash was open across her forehead. Ellie ran to her and helped her stand up straight.

  “What happened?” Ellie asked.

  Hailey swallowed hard and looked down at her shaking hands. “I—I found the bomb. It was...under a cafe table. I ran over and threw it in the water, but I didn’t make it back before it went off.”

  Ellie examined her partner for any major damage. “Do you hurt anywhere?”

  “Just my head.”

  Ellie swung one of Hailey’s arms around her neck and started back to the street.

  “Did you get him?” Hailey asked.

  “Damn right, I did.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The sunlight flashed on the surface of the water like shiny bits of flame. Ellie brought the boat into the dock and Katie tied off as her sister cut the engine. Katie had finally told her sister the truth about what Carl had done to her and they had spent the last couple of hours at anchor in the sound with their lines in the water, trying to come up with a plan for how to deal with him. Ellie wanted to feed him to the sharks, and Katie wanted to push him in front of a moving car. But they both agreed that Katie had to tell Major. “He’s going to be a little hurt that you didn’t tell him. Even though he won’t show it.”

  They rinsed out the boat’s engine, sprayed off the deck, and placed their fishing gear in the storage room at the back of the dry dock. As they came up the dock just in time to see Donald Gaines, Lee County’s Sheriff, coming towards them. Don was an old family friend, and a terrific police officer.

  “Hey, Don,” Ellie said.

  “Hey, you two.”

  “What’s up?” Katie asked.

  “Well, I’m afraid I have some news.” He removed his Setson hat and tucked it under his arm. “Katie, Carl Trueman’s body was found in a trailer on the other end of the county. He’s dead.”

  Ellie reached out and slipped her hand into Katie’s. She gripped it hard.

  “Dead?”

  “Someone found him early this morning. Looks like he’d been dead for a couple of days.”

  “How?”

  Somone shot up up pretty bad. I to come out and tell you myself. I know you had problems with him in the past.”

  Katie managed a half smile. “Thanks, Don.”

  “Do you know what they murder weapon was?” Ellie asked.

  “We do. It was a FN Five-seven. Not the most popular of guns. They fire high velocity rounds that are shaped like something you would shoot from a rifle. I’ve never shot one myself. But we’ll run ballistics and see if anything come back
. Carl ran around with some bad folk, from what I understand.”

  Katie nodded.

  They spoke for a few more minutes, trying to piece the details together, and then Don took his leave.

  He had hardly turned his back when Katie said, “Is it bad that I’m relieved?”

  “I’m relieved,” Ellie said.

  Katie sighed. “This is going to take some time to process.”

  “Go relax at the bar,” Ellie sid. “After news like that you need to get a couple beers in you. I think I’ll get back to the house and get ready for tonight. I want to try and finish painting my wall Tyler comes over. Come over for breakfast in the morning.”

  They gave each other a hug. “I love you,” Katie said. “Have fun tonight.”

  Citrus sat with his nose pressed against the glass, looking dully at his archenemy across the water. The gray tabby cat was perched on top of the seawall, happily flicking its tail back and forth like a conductor, as though it was in complete command of the symphony of emotions contained inside the dog currently staring it down. It sat proudly, defiantly, and Ellie was starting to consider running a bath just so the poor dog could have some body of water to play in.

  Standing on a ladder, she ran the tip of her brush just below the seam the wall shared with the ceiling, using a steady hand to cut a straight line across. Finished, she climbed down the ladder and stepped back, examining her kitchen wall. The paint along the edges had yet to dry, but she was pleased with how the new color had turned out. She took her brushes over to the sink and rinsed them off before folding the aluminum ladder and carrying it into the garage, where she returned it to two hooks on the wall in front of her El Camino. The car was a classic, as far as El Caminos go: a 1968, royal blue in color, and two white racing stripes down the hood made it look more powerful than it really was. She hadn’t taken it out in a while and decided that tomorrow would be as good a day as any to run it up island. Maybe all the way up to Bokeelia.

  She returned to the kitchen and finished gathering up the rest of the painting supplies. The microwave clock showed that it was just after five-thirty, leaving her to take a leisurely shower and get ready for her dinner cruise with Tyler before he came to pick her up.

  The Salty Mangrove was humming. The television over the bar was tuned to the French Open’s men’s semi-finals, anglers were bellied up to the bar enjoying a cold one after an afternoon on the water, and the inside seating area on the other side of the kitchen was packed with customers. Gloria adjusted her straw sunhat and leaned in and took a sip from her piña colada.

  “Warren,” she said, calling him by his given name. “A customer accidentally left this behind.” She grabbed the black fedora from the bar and held it out to him. He took it. “I guess you can put it in the lost and found. Do you even have a lost and found?”

  His focus was on the fedora, as though remembering something, missing something.

  “Warren?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Do you have a lost and found?”

  He looked up, and for a moment she was startled by a coldness in his eyes she had never seen before. But it vanished quickly. He smiled. “I do. Somewhere around here. I’ll make sure it gets in there.”

  Beside her, Fu was showing Katie the feed from the drone he had up in the air. It was flying a couple streets over. The large remote had an LCD screen that let you see what the drone saw.

  “Fu,” Gloria said, “It’s showing low on batteries. You need to bring it in.”

  “That’s a great resolution,” Katie said, and then, “Oh, wow, I didn’t know it could go that high.

  Then Fu gave a little strike and Katie strighend beside him. “Oh no,” she said.

  Fu’s eyes widened like someone had just pantsed him. Horrified, he looked at his wife.

  “What?” Gloria said. He held the screen up in front of her. “Fu!” Gloria jumped to her feet. Her barstool tumbled backward across the boardwalk, and her piña colada turned over, sloshing across the bar top. “Fu! I told you!”

  When Ellie slid the back door open, Citrus didn’t even bother to move. His nose rubbed a long horizontal streak across the glass. Ellie stepped out and leaned over. She set her brushes across the tiny slab of concrete that was her back porch.

  That was when, with no warning at all, she heard an explosion from the other side of the canal. She jumped and looked across the water to see a blur of white and black metal explode on the edge of the seawall and plop off into the water. It all happened too fast for her to see what it was. It was like a small meteor had just slammed into her tiny slice of paradise. She stepped onto the top of the railroad tie that made up the top edge of the seawall.

  The cat was on its back in the grass, its eyes closed and head listing to one side. Ellie felt a brush at her ankle and looked down. Citrus was staring expectantly at the cat, whining with high anticipation. “Is it dead?” she asked. The dog didn’t seem to know either. No sooner had she squinted to get a better look than she grimaced. “Eww,” she said mildly and turned away. “Yep.” She set a hand over her stomach. “It’s—”

  A splash from below told her Citrus had already taken a festive dive. He surfaced, and for the first time in two months, sent out a cheery and celebratory yip. He paddled over to his ramp and scrambled up it and back into the yard before taking a running leap and flinging himself back into his oasis.

  Ellie had settled her attention back on the yard across from her, and that’s when she heard a jarring clatter, like a flock of metallic geese were passing over the neighborhood. It grew louder as it came down her street, and when she turned and saw the white VW Beetle jittering toward her house, understanding sparked into flame.

  She laughed. “Well, little buddy. I think we owe Fu and Gloria a few rounds of drinks. What do you think?”

  Citrus was on his back. He flipped over and gave a hearty, agreeable bark; her Jack Russell, back to his old form. Ellie heard the car turn off in her driveway by means of a little explosion of its own. She walked around the side of the house and came out to where Fu and Gloria were getting out of the car.

  Fu looked positively fearful, like he thought a prison term might be in his future, and Gloria looked as though she might have been crying. Before she could say anything, Ellie stepped up to her, wrapped her arms around Gloria’s neck, and squeezed gently.

  “I love you guys.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  An hour later, Tyler pulled his truck into Ellie’s driveway and stepped out into the island's breezy humidity. He walked up to the front door, and when he rapped lightly, he heard the jingle of Citrus’s tags.

  “Come in!”

  The door was hardly open before the dog sprinted off the ottoman and leaped toward one of his favorite people. Tyler was quick to react. He grabbed the Jack Russell on both sides and swept his arms down, bringing Citrus back to the floor in a smooth landing. “Not tonight, big guy. As you can see, I’ve got a suit on. And your mother may not go for the hair-and-paw-print look on it.” Citrus bounced on his feet with a newfound energy that Tyler hadn’t seen in some time.

  “What’s got you extra wound up?” he asked.

  “The cat expired,” Ellie said. She was across the living room standing in the kitchen on a single foot. One hand was gripping the kitchen table, and she was craning her head back, looking down at her lifted foot and trying to secure the back of her other high-heeled shoe. Her blond hair flowed past her shoulders in large, bouncy curls, set off by a pair of diamond drop earrings that had once belonged to her mother. Dark eyeshadow colored her eyelids, and the perfect shade of red adorned her lips. Her backless dress was royal blue, loose skirts flowing freely below her waist, accompanied by a side slit. Her heels gave her five-foot-seven frame another three inches.

  Tyler shut the door behind him. “You look amaz—” He paused, and his brows drew together as he frowned.

  “What?” she asked, a little self aware now.

  “Didn’t you kill som
eone while you were wearing that dress?”

  She looked down and gave the dress a once over. “Yeah. Is that a problem?”

  “Um. Well...”

  “I’m sorry I’m not Miss High Society,” she snapped lightly. “I don’t really have occasion to wear things like this all that much. It’s is the nicest I’ve got.”

  “Yeah, but still…. You did kill someone while wearing that dress.”

  Three months ago, Ellie had unexpectedly caught up to a thug who had been managing a regional sex trafficking ring. Having just come from a fundraising gala, Ellie wasn’t exactly dressed for the altercation that ensued. She ended the fight by throwing a back kick at the man while wearing high heels. The pointed heel of her shoe had pierced into his heart.

  Ellie sighed. “If it makes you feel any better, I threw the old pair of heels out.”

  “Ah. Well in that case.” He stepped to the side and swung a chivalrous hand toward the door. “Ready when you are, my lady.”

  The drive south to Naples Bay took a little over an hour, and they filled the time discussing lighter topics like Tyler’s business, an upcoming fishing competition Ellie wanted to enter, and their favorite beers. The conversation continued to a background of Jack Johnson, Dave Matthew’s Band, Jackson Browne, and Don Henly, and as they exited the highway and headed west onto Golden Gate Parkway, the distinctive guitar intro to Simon and Garfunkel's “The Boxer” came through the truck’s speakers. “Hmm,” Ellie said. “Major loves this song.” She reached for the knob and turned it up a little. As the song progressed and then reached the charming chorus, Tyler started singing loudly.

  “Lie la lie…”

  “Shhh,” she said, “You’re ruining it.”

  He shot her a look, feigning hurt, and lowered his rendition down to a quiet hum. She closed her eyes and listened, and when the duo started singing about laying out their winter clothes and wishing that they were going home, she suddenly thought back to her earlier conversation with Major. He was one of the most well-known and well-loved people on the island, and yet she had, she was sure of it, seen an unexpected crack in his otherwise stable and Herculean constitution that seemed to manifest a clear sense of loneliness. Ellie didn’t know what to make of that; she didn’t know if perhaps Major just missed her father or needed a girlfriend. But listening to this song now, she found that she hurt for him in some way. And she didn’t understand why.