Awash (The Forgotten Coast Florida Suspense Series Book 6)

by Dawn Lee McKenna

  “Come on,” she said quietly to Zoe, and started walking away from the deck. After a moment, she heard Zoe descend the deck steps.

  Maggie stopped in the middle of the well-lit circle and turned around. Zoe stopped a few feet away, looking unsure. Maggie bopped the end of the batting stick against the ground a few times.

  “Remember this?” she asked Zoe.

  “Yeah,” the girl said.

  Maggie held out the wooden bat. “Aluminum bats suck. Nothing feels as good as swinging a wooden bat,” she said, as Zoe reached out and took it. “That was my husband David’s. Do you remember him?”

  Zoe nodded. “Yeah, Coach.”

  “He could really swing,” Maggie said. She spread her feet a little, dug in, and raised the batting stick. “Let’s go. Let’s see what you got in there.”

  Zoe looked at her a moment, then got into something of a batting stance. She swung once and missed, then immediately swung a second time and connected, but Maggie barely felt it.

  “Come on, swing all the way through,” Maggie said. Zoe took another swing. “Again.”

  Zoe widened her stance a little, swung again, connected.

  “Come on, Zoe,” Maggie said, not unkindly. “Get your weight on that back foot. Bend your knees.”

  Zoe dug her back foot in a bit, swung again, hit a little bit harder.

  “Swing with your hips, not your arms.”

  “I am,” Zoe said, frustrated. She swung again but grazed the target.

  Maggie raised the end of the batting stick up to Zoe’s eye level. “See this?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Smiling right in your face!” She slammed the end of the stick onto the ground a couple of times, then held it up for Zoe. “Use your hips. All your power in your hips. Do it again.”

  Zoe swung again, and Maggie felt the hit speed up the length of the stick and vibrate in her shoulder muscles.

  “Good. Do it again.”

  Zoe swung again, and grunted as she connected with the target.

  “Again.”

  The wooden bat thumped against the end of the batting stick over and over and over. Occasionally, Zoe grunted with the effort, but Maggie said nothing else.

  In the open sliding glass door, Gray stood and watched, his hands in his pajama pockets, the breeze blowing his graying hair into his eyes.

  The Florida Seafood Festival was in full flux when Maggie and her family arrived in the early afternoon. Thousands of people were in attendance, and Battery Park was virtually unrecognizable. There were rows of vendor booths set up, selling every variation of local seafood, snacks, tee shirts, beer, and other cold drinks. Many of the booths were donating proceeds to local charities; all were doing a brisk business.

  The air was filled with music from the concert stage, announcements over the loudspeaker about the day’s schedule, and the sounds of children shouting to each other and parents shouting at them. On the bay side, carnival rides blared out their own music, accompanied by the screams and laughter of the people riding them.

  The day was bright and dry and fairly cool; a perfect Saturday for this, the largest annual event in Apalach.

  Maggie stayed by Zoe’s side throughout the afternoon, except for the few times when the girl was persuaded to ride something with Sky and Kyle. Maggie didn’t do rides that left the ground, but she waited and watched until Zoe was back on the ground and back by her side. Maggie watched as Zoe sometimes seemed to be able to forget for a few moments that her life had changed. She watched as she always, eventually, remembered, and her eyes looked tired again. She also watched as she saw Zoe watching, her eyes darting and her head turning as she surveyed the crowds, searching for bleached blond hair.

  Wyatt joined them only now and then, as he was essentially working, helping Sheriff’s and Apalach PD officers with crowd control and lost kids, misplaced wallets, and misplaced sobriety.

  He stood with an arm around Maggie’s shoulder as they all watched Kyle participate in the kids’ crab races. Maggie always felt bad for the crabs. Five minutes of people screaming at them, and then even the winner went into some vendor’s pot.

  She followed her parents, Sky, and Zoe as they went to congratulate Kyle on his 2nd place win, and John Solomon took Maggie’s place at Wyatt’s side.

  “Hey, Wyatt,” John said.

  “Hey, John,” Wyatt said.

  John had been with the Sheriff’s Office for twenty years before he’d retired to become the Executive Director of the Chamber of Commerce. The Seafood Festival was his baby, and the high point of his entire year.

  “If you want some of my fried oysters, you better get over there pretty soon,” John said.

  John’s third love, after his family and the festival, was cooking. Every fundraising event in Franklin County featured John at a grill or a fryer.

  Wyatt sighed. “How long have we known each other, John?” Wyatt said.

  “Uh, let’s see…ten years?”

  “And we have some variation of this conversation every year,” Wyatt said. “I can’t stand oysters.”

  “Oh, yeah,” John said, frowning. “I guess I just like you so much that I keep forgetting you’re a moron.”

  Wyatt grimaced at him, and John gave him a wink, then took a drink of his bottled water.

  “Good crowd this year,” he said. “New record.”

  “It always is,” Wyatt said. “You did good.”

  “Team effort, my friend. Team effort,” John said. “Hey, I saw the thing in the paper the other day. I didn’t actually believe you were gonna do it, man.”

  “Yep,” Wyatt said.

  “Good for you.”

  Wyatt raised his plastic cup of Mountain Dew at him. “You got any advice?”

  “Yeah, don’t sleep with the detectives,” John said, smiling.

  “I’ve never slept with Terry,” Wyatt said.

  “I’m sure his wife appreciates that,” John said.

  “For the record, I’m not sleeping with Maggie, either.”

  “No offense, my friend,” John said.

  “None taken,” Wyatt said. “We’re doing the old-fashioned thing.”

  “Crap, Wyatt. Are y’all getting married?”

  “If I can get her to hurry up and ask,” Wyatt said.

  “That’s awesome, man,” John said, patting him on the back. “That makes me happy.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So do you know who they’re putting in your office yet?”

  “Nope,” Wyatt answered. “I’m meeting the suits in Tallahassee Monday.”

  “Nobody’s gonna like him,” John said.

  “So I hear. I’ve never felt more loved,” Wyatt said.

  John smiled, then looked past him. “Penny’s rubbernecking for me,” he said, speaking of his wife. “Back to work. I’ll see you around.”

  “See you later,” Wyatt said, as John hurried away. A few moments later, Maggie came back.

  “I’m gonna take Zoe back to my folks’,” she said.

  “Already?” Wyatt asked. “It’s only four o’clock.”

  “Yeah, but she’s done,” Maggie said. “Hyper-vigilance is exhausting.”

  Wyatt frowned and nodded. “Your parents going, too?”

  Maggie grinned at him. “Please. Daddy hasn’t missed an oyster shucking contest yet. Or lost one.”

  “All right. Well, I’ll talk to you later,” Wyatt said.

  “Okay,” Maggie said.

  Wyatt glanced around, then yanked on her hand, pulled her in for a quick kiss. “We can do crap like that now,” he said.

  Maggie and Zoe sat in a pair of Adirondack chairs in the back yard, in front of Daddy’s new fire pit. The wood crackled and spit, and the fire did a spasmodic dance as the evening breeze hit it. It was Maggie’s favorite part of the day, when sunset and dark kissed very briefly in the sky.

  “So, Wyatt’s your boyfriend?” Zoe asked.

  “Yes,” Maggie said, and felt embarrassed by the warmth in her face
. Zoe didn’t seem to notice.

  “Does he know about what happened to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he doesn’t care? It doesn’t matter?” Zoe asked.

  Maggie looked over at Zoe. “No.”

  “Did your husband know?”

  “No,” Maggie said again. She shifted in her seat, faced Zoe. “And whether you decide to tell somebody in the future, that’s up to you,” she said. “But a good man will know that rape has nothing to do with sex.”

  Zoe nodded. “That’s kind of what Sky says, too,” she said after a moment.

  “She’s wise sometimes,” Maggie said.

  Zoe gave her half a smile. “She’s cool.” She stood up then, and stretched her back. “I have to use the restroom.”

  Maggie smiled at her, then looked out at the almost invisible silver of the bay as she heard Zoe go up the deck stairs and slide open the door. She couldn’t see the bay well, but she could smell it, and she took a long, slow drink of it. She was thinking about healing, hers and Zoe’s, and about how a place can help you do that, when the skin on the back of her neck heated up, and the hairs on arms became electrically charged.

  She was already leaning forward in her chair when she heard a gentle rustling, had already pulled her weapon from the back of her jeans when she started standing, but she didn’t manage to turn all the way around. The piece of firewood struck her in the right temple, and she continued spinning as she fell backward.

  She heard it hit before she felt it, and saw his bleached hair glowing against the dark sky behind him as she fell. The ground slammed into her like it had been running at her. The pain hit her then, in the temple and in the back of her head, and she felt her gun skitter out of her hand, heard a metallic clang as white light exploded behind her eyes.

  The light faded, and the dark came back into focus, just as she saw him raise the piece of firewood over his head. She rolled to the side, heard it come down behind her, thumping the ground just six inches from her head.

  She rolled again, onto her stomach, and was almost on her hands and knees when his foot struck her right side. She rolled again, this time not of her own volition. It hurt, and it took the wind out of her, but she felt a flash of gratitude that he obviously wasn’t wearing boots.

  She landed face down, and rolled onto her back just as he dropped, his knees on either side of her. Her head spun, and his head spun with it. She saw two of his faces, and both of them looked more frightened than angry, though the anger was there, too.

  “This is none of your business!” he spat out, his eyes wide.

  Maggie’s arms felt oddly heavy as she lifted them to cover her head. She was a moment too slow, and his fist connected with her cheek.

  “This is between me and her!” he yelled.

  Maggie just had time to think that she was going to get up, and she was going to kill him when she did, then she heard Zoe’s voice from somewhere that sounded further away than it probably was.

  “Get off of her!” Zoe screamed.

  Maggie heard a dull thump, heard Finch grunt, and then felt him leave her. Maggie’s face expanded and contracted as she blinked her eyes rapidly, willing herself not to lose consciousness.

  She heard another thump.

  “Zoe!” she heard Finch yell.

  Another thump, and Maggie heard Finch groan.

  “Get away from us!” Maggie heard Zoe yell.

  Thump.

  Maggie rolled onto her right side. Zoe was standing over Finch, who was getting to his hands and knees.

  “Smile at me,” Zoe yelled. “Smile at me!”

  Zoe swung David’s beautiful wooden bat once again, and caught Finch in the ribs. Maggie noticed, crazily, that Zoe was swinging from the hips.

  Finch landed on his back and put up a hand. “Zoe,” he said, his voice weaker.

  Zoe swung again, hit the hand dead on, and Finch screamed and dropped his arm.

  “Smile at me again!” Zoe yelled, and the bat got him in the side of the knee.

  Maggie rolled over, scrambled over to the fire pit. Her gun had skittered beneath it, and she reached for it, gasped as the back of her hand made contact with the scorching bottom of the fire pit. She yanked her hand back out and scrambled to her feet.

  Her head spun a moment, then she ran the few steps between her and Zoe, who was getting ready for another swing.

  “Zoe!” Maggie yelled.

  Zoe swung, but lost her momentum as she looked over her shoulder. Finch grabbed the bat out of her hands and threw it over his head.

  Maggie swung her arm around and leveled her weapon at Finch’s face. He threw his hands up.

  “I’m not armed!” he gasped.

  Maggie didn’t take her finger from the Glock’s double trigger.

  “Leave us alone!” he yelled. “This is between her and me!”

  Maggie felt bile rising up in her throat. “The only thing between you and her is me.”

  Finch had been taken to the ER via ambulance and Maggie had been taken via Wyatt. It took the ER doctor a little under an hour to put three stitches in Maggie’s temple, check her for concussion, ice down her cheek, and pronounce her fit to leave. Zoe held her hand the entire time, as Wyatt watched from a spot on the wall, arms folded over his chest.

  Finch was taken to Franklin County Jail, Maggie was taken back to her parents’ house. Now, three hours later, she sat at the table on the deck, staring at the embers of the fire she and Zoe had built before sunset, and drinking coffee her mother had made. Maggie’s parents had gone to bed, but Wyatt sat at the table, Mountain Dew in hand.

  Zoe, Sky, and Kyle sat on the deck stairs talking quietly.

  “I’m thinking if Piggly-Wiggly doesn’t hire you, we could start a charter fishing business,” Wyatt said quietly.

  Maggie looked at him and smiled. It hurt her cheek. Wyatt’s tone was light, but she saw the stress and exhaustion in his eyes. “I’m kind of offended that you think they won’t take me,” she said.

  “Maybe if you wait until your face heals,” he said.

  “Maybe.”

  Maggie looked back at the kids as Kyle got up from the steps and walked out into the yard, his Nautica pajama bottoms dragging through the dew that had already appeared. He walked out of the circle of light into the dark, bent over, then came back with his father’s Louisville slugger.

  He stopped in front of the girls and they ceased their talking. “This is supposed to be mine, but Dad had three more. You should have this one,” Kyle said quietly.

  Zoe hesitated a moment, then reached out and took it. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

  Kyle sat back down on the steps, and Maggie looked over at Wyatt.

  “You should know that he told me today that he might marry her,” Wyatt said in a hushed voice.

  Maggie looked over at the kids and smiled. “She deserves him,” she said.

  The next afternoon, Maggie stood by her mother’s car as her father loaded luggage into the trunk.

  Gray had decided everyone needed to get away for a few days, school or no school, and they were taking the kids to Destin. Maggie had been cowardly about calling Paulette for permission, and was still trying to figure out if she owed the woman an apology, so Gray had called her.

  “I still wish you were coming, Sunshine,” Gray said, as he rearranged things in the cramped trunk.

  “Me, too, Daddy,” Maggie said. “But I have to work tomorrow, and Wyatt and I are going to have dinner. He’s heading out to Tallahassee tonight so he doesn’t have to leave at dark-thirty tomorrow morning.”

  “Even so,” Gray said. “You could use a little break.”

  “That’s the truth, Daddy,” Maggie said.

  She heard kids’ voices, and turned around to look over at the front porch. Kyle and Zoe were looking at something on Kyle’s phone.

  “I think Kyle’s got his first crush,” Maggie said.

  “He could do worse,” Gray said.

  “Yep.” Maggie
watched them for a moment. “I was thinking…I was thinking about asking Wyatt what he thought about keeping her.”

  Gray looked over his shoulder at her. “That a fact?”

  “Well, yeah. I mean, I should ask him.” Maggie swallowed. “If we’re going to be, you know, married eventually. What do you think?”

  “Well, I’ll tell you what,” Gray said. “It’s a noble idea, but I talked to Zoe somewhat the other night, and she loves her aunt.”

  “I’m sure she does,” Maggie said, almost defensively.

  “And her aunt loves her, in the way she knows how,” Gray said. “Zoe feels that if she leaves, her aunt won’t have any reason to turn things around.”

  “She’s fourteen,” Maggie said. “It’s not her responsibility to help her aunt get clean.”

  “No, but she feels it anyway,” Gray said. “She’s just trying to hang on to the one piece of family she’s got left.” He straightened up, grabbed another small suitcase, and jammed it into the space he’d made. “So consider that, and make sure that whatever you do, you do it for her, not for you.”

  Maggie swallowed. “Do you think I’m being selfish?”

  Gray straightened up again, the suitcase half in and half out. “No, I think you feel as responsible for her happiness as she does for her aunt’s. Maggie, you’ve been bringing home every stray dog, run-over turtle, and mangy cat since you could walk. It’s what you do.”

  Maggie looked over at Zoe, then back at her father. “I just want her to be safe,” she said.

  “I know that. And if she wants to come live with you, then y’all should do that.” He bent back over the trunk and finished stuffing the suitcase in. “Wyatt can handle it,” he said. “It doesn’t take a saint to raise another man’s child, Maggie.”

  Maggie saw his hands go still on the suitcase, watched his hands as they busied themselves again in a moment, checking that the suitcase was zipped.

  “In any event,” Gray said, “Wyatt’s already planning to do that with Sky and Kyle.”