Far From Shore

by Mark Stone

  The boat, tethered to the dock, still swayed in the water, rocking back and forth just enough to make sure we knew we weren’t on solid ground. Back in Chicago, people wouldn’t have understood how much that meant, how comforting it could be to know that you were on the water, even while you were sleeping. Hell, they’d have probably thought I was crazy if I tried to explain it, but the water served as your home down here every bit as much as the land.

  “Doing fine, old man,” I answered, topping the top and taking a swig. “Just hungry is all.”

  “I brought back half a cheeseburger and enough fries to count if you want that,” he mused, turning back the right way in his recliner.

  “Hell, that stuff is barely edible when it’s fresh,” I answered, and sat next to him on a recliner of my own. The leather of it was soft and supple, and honestly it was too comfortable. We never had this kind of stuff when I was a kid and, unlike my grandfather, the idea of having a chair with the sole purpose of lulling you into a state of groggy defenselessness wasn’t my idea of a luxury. So, I had never once used the reclining feature. “You feeling okay?” I asked, looking over at him. “You usually finished those greasy burgers in two seconds flat.”

  “Been a little sick to my stomach,” he admitted. “Nothing a ginger ale and a night’s sleep won’t fix.”

  “Except that it is,” I answered. “Dr. Day gave you that medicine for a reason. I sure wish you’d start taking it. It’s meant to calm your nausea.”

  He scoffed at me. “You think every time we got to feeling bad overseas, we could just pop a pill and make it go away?” He shook his head. “I’ll do the chemo, mostly because I think you’d get yourself lost on the way to the supermarket if I wasn’t around to help you, but I’m not going to turn myself into a pill head, Dilly. I just won’t do it.”

  “You’re not in the Army anymore,” I answered, sighing. “And I just want you to feel better.” I took another swig of beer as my mind went back to something Boomer had talked to me about earlier.

  “Hey, Grandpa, do you know a man named Jack Lacey?” I asked, setting the bottle on the counter beside me.

  “Coast Guard,” he answered, nodding. “Or, at least, he used to be. Came down here from Virginia, I think. He took the lead when the Sands woman went missing.” My grandfather’s eyes moved over to me. “Hell of a thing, you finding her like that. I hope the boy wasn’t too shook up about it.”

  “Isaac’s fine,” I answered. “His mother took him for ice cream. I’m going to go check on him tomorrow, but tell me more about this Lacey man.”

  “Not much else to tell,” my grandfather answered, shrugging. “He’s supposed to be the best there is at what he does, but something happened after the case. He lost his kid or his wife, or both. Whatever happened, it turned his resolve to crap. He moved back down here, turned into something of a beach bum. I think he takes odd jobs every once in a while, to make ends meet. I don’t think all of ‘em are very savory in nature. A shame, really. He was an impressive man at one time. Why do you ask?”

  “I need to talk to him tomorrow,” I answered. “See what he knows about what happened the first time Mrs. Sands was thought to have died.”

  “You be careful, Dilly,” he said. “Like I said, he’s not always mixed up with the most respectable company anymore.” He shook his head. “When a man’s got nothing left to lose, he’s also got nothing left to live for.” My grandfather sat upright and pushed himself off the chair. “I’m going to head to bed. I need to do a follow up with that lady doctor tomorrow.” He moved back toward his bedroom before turning back around to me. “She’s something of a looker, that one,” he said. “And single too, if what I’m hearing is right. A man could do a lot worse than pretty doctor lady.”

  I grinned. “I can deal with my own love life, old man.”

  “Can you?” he contested.

  “Go to sleep,” I chuckled.

  *

  The next morning, I headed out to the address on the card Boomer gave me, looking for Jack Lacey and keeping my grandfather’s words of wisdom in the forefront of my mind. Hopefully they would be unnecessary. With any luck, the man I’d find today would be more like the glistening example of excellence and less like the broken figure of loss and the bad decisions a person can make because of it.

  Following the GPS on my phone, I headed south, down toward the Aqualane Shores. Taking Gulf Shore Blvd all the way down to near the end of Naples Pier, I found the address belonged to a small marina with several boats docked onto it.

  I pulled into the parking area in front and walked out toward the office, taking in the sights. This was the decidedly less expensive area of town. Unlike the glistening and glamourous boats you’d often see up on Vanderbilt, the vessels docked here looked more lived in. Faded paint, rusted hulls, that sort of thing.

  I walked toward a small wooden box with the word “office” painted on it in sloppy red letters as my phone rang.

  “Hey, Boom,” I answered, reading the screen and tapping the answer button. “I’m here to see your guy.”

  “He’s not my guy,” Boomer answered. “And maybe neither are you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, arching my brows.

  “I asked you to stay away from the case with your brother, Dil,” he said. “Running down a car that looks just like his with the exact markings he described as being on his doesn’t sound like staying away to me.”

  “He was driving recklessly, Boom.” I answered. “I couldn’t just let it slide.”

  “He was driving recklessly because he saw you following him,” Boomer answered.

  “Which means he had a reason to not want me following him,” I said.

  “I’m not denying that you’re onto something here, Dil. The fake registration combined with the fact that we found fingerprints from both your brother and his wife all over the car is enough to make me think the bastard might actually be telling the truth.” He stopped for a beat. “It doesn’t mean you get to disobey direct orders, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean you get to pull Tammy into your little schemes either.”

  “She told you about that?” I asked, stopping before I reached the office.

  “She didn’t want to,” Boomer said. “But the woman’s never been much of a liar. Look,” he said, sighing so that I knew this was going to be more serious. “You don’t get to go over my head just because we’re friends, and you don’t get to disregard what I tell you to do just because you think it’s right. I know that’s not how it worked up in Chicago, and that’s not how it’s gonna work here.”

  “Boom,” I said, sighing myself. “I just--”

  “I know what you did. You saw an opportunity and you took it. I’m not going to stand here and say I wouldn’t have done the same. Hell, you even turned out to be right. This might actually be enough to get the charges dropped against your brother. Who knows? But you incited a car chase that put civilians in danger. It left one woman hurt. I’m not going to lay that at your feet and I’m not going to punish you for it this time. But I will tell you that this will be the last time that happens. I love you, Dil, but if you don’t listen to me, there are going to be consequences. Understood?”

  “Yeah, Boom,” I said, looking at the ground and holding my tongue.

  “Good. Now go see Jack Lacey. His boat’s called The Finder, and don’t forget to skip lunch. We’ve got a whole lot of pot roast to eat tonight, me and you.”

  “Sounds good, Chief,” I said, putting extra infliction on the last word.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered and then hung up.

  Knowing the name of the boat now, I bypassed the office and headed toward the docks.

  Scanning the area, it didn’t take me long to find The Finder. Though half the letters were faded, I could still make out the name scrolled across the bottom of a stained white vessel with navy blue accents.

  I took a breath and walked toward it. Stepping up onto the dock, I heard a loud booming sound.
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  The door swung open and a bristled man of about thirty-five was tossed out. He landed on the floor of the deck and slid toward the end.

  Looking up at me with jet back hair and a five o’clock shadow he asked, “Are you the detective Boomer was sending over to talk to me?”

  “I am,” I answered uneasily.

  “Does that mean you’ve got a gun?” he continued.

  “It does,” I said, glancing at the piece on my hip.

  “Good,” he said, looking back at the now open door of the ship. “Because you might have to use it.”

  Following his gaze, I saw a man with a shaved head and a tattoo of a dragon across his right cheek step out on deck. He had a rifle in his hand and it was pointed straight at Jack Lacey.

  Chapter 11

  My body tensed up and my mind focused in on the danger in front of me as I looked over the man with the rifle. He was left handed, judging by the way he held the gun, and the steady nature in which he pointed the thing told me he had more than a little bit of experience with it. Still, this guy wasn’t a professional. Jack Lacey might have been mixed up with unsavory characters, as my grandfather warned me, but this guy was holding a hunting rifle and, in my experience, those weren't the weapons of trained killers. This was a redneck fight, plain and simple. Which meant it was about one of three things; money, drugs, or women. Since there was no way Boomer would send me to question a druggie, that meant I had a fifty percent chance of getting this right.

  My hands were up in the air as I stared at the man. “He owes you money?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

  “Two grand,” the man with the tattoo responded. “And he’s going to pay me or he can explain himself to his maker.”

  The tattooed man’s voice was light, higher pitched than I would have imagined from someone hard enough to get a damned tattoo that ran halfway up his cheek. Still, his eyes were trained on Jack and they held more than a little crazy from the looks of them.

  “You’re being way too dramatic about this, Theo,” Jack said from the deck, his tone not nearly as serious as it should be given the situation. “I’d told you I’d pay you back when I got the money.” He shrugged on his back. “Business just hasn’t started booming yet. That’s all.”

  “Shut up, Lacey!” the man who I now knew to be Theo said, cocking his rifle. “I’ve hard it before!”

  “I can’t let you do this, my man,” I said, reaching for the gun on my hip carefully. “My name is Dillon Storm and I’m a detective for Collier County. I understand this jackass might owe you some money, but that doesn’t mean you get to come into his house and assault him, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean you get to shoot him over it. Now, if you want to take him to small claims co--”

  “Police,” he scoffed, shaking his head, the barrel of his gun moving from Jack to me. My body tensed and my hand stopped in its tracks as Theo stared at it. “You actually called the police on me, you son of a bitch?” he asked, his mouth turning downward in disgust as he questioned Jack. “You know how we feel about the law down here, Lacey. You wanna get yourself killed, the fastest way I can think of is to bring the fuzz into it.” His eyes narrowed at me. “Unless you’re prepared to settle his debt for him. Storm, that’s a rich boy name.”

  “It’s deceptive,” I answered, my voice steady and my hand still hovering over my gun. “And the only thing I’m going to offer you is a chance to end this peacefully before I have to knock your ass out or worse.”

  “Is that a joke?” Theo asked, shaking his head. “Seriously, man, is that a damned joke? I could have two shots in you before you clear leather.”

  “Maybe,” I conceded. “Or maybe I’m faster than you think. Hell, maybe I’m wearing a bulletproof vest under this shirt. Just pointing that gun at me is enough to buy you the next ten years behind bars, if you survive the fight, that is.”

  My body was still and ridged. This was far from the first time I’d ever had a gun pointed at me. Since I’d come back home, I’d been shot at more than once and stabbed to boot. Still, it was the kind of thing you never get used to, and the sort of experience you always want to be on your toes about. Every person was different and if they’d already been pushed to the point of sticking a gun in your face, you never wanted to underestimate what they might be capable of.

  “Still, I’m feeling generous,” I said. “You put that gun down right now, and I’ll think about letting all this go. You can walk right off this boat and back into whatever rat’s nest you crawled out of.”

  “Bull,” he answered quickly. “Pigs locked my brother up last year. They locked my old man up the year before that, and for next to nothing. I know how you people work. You told me about the time I could get for this, and you were right. Except the judge would probably take one look at me and give me double.” He spat on the deck. “And I still wouldn’t have my money. My money, Lacey!”

  “Only one way to find out,” I told him calmly. “I might be just like the officers who arrested your brother and father, or I might be different. I might be the kind of man whose been through a thing or two himself. Maybe I know what it’s like to need something, to need what’s yours. Hell, maybe I’m just too damned busy to worry about small potatoes like some roughneck on a boat who just wants what he’s owed.” I shrugged slightly, my hand still dangerously close to my gun.

  He looked at me for a long moment and, as he blinked, I saw a bit of humanity in his eyes. Life could be hard out here under the wrong circumstances, and it could get really exhausting living in paradise with no way to really access it. If that was what was going on with Theo (and it sure sounded like it was), then I could see why something like this might push him past his breaking point. Still, understanding something didn’t make it right and, as a detective, my business was about what was right.

  He lowered his gun just enough so that it fell back to Jack.

  “Best to listen to the man, Theo,” Jack said, his eyes flickering back and forth between me and the tattooed man. “Besides, you shoot me, you don’t ever get your money. And this the good detective here has got to take you in and spend his whole day doing paperwork.” He pushed up slightly, so that he was sitting up on his shoulders. “You don’t want to be the reason this man has to do paperwork, do you?”

  There was even more levity in Jack’s voice now. It was so inappropriate and light that it started rubbing me the wrong way. We were in a dangerous situation and any man who took that so lightly after being the cause of it wasn’t someone I thought I could count on, and I learned a long time ago not to bother with people you couldn’t count on.

  I swallowed hard, looking at Theo.

  “No,” he said, almost quietly. “No paperwork.” His eyes shot back up at me and I saw the devil in them. “Not for you.”

  He lifted his rifle back up and I cursed under my breath.

  Reaching for my gun, I pulled it out quickly and fired two shots into the man’s left shoulder before he could fire a single shot at me. He lay body arched backward and, by the time he pulled the trigger, his shots went out into the air overhead.

  I ran toward him, pulling the rifle from his hand and knocking him to the deck floor. Pulling out my handcuffs, I spun him around, knee to the back and cuffed his hands together. He squealed loudly as I moved his arm, inadvertently twisting his wounded shoulder.

  “Told you I was fast,” I muttered. “I didn’t want to do that.”

  “I just wanted my money,” he whimpered as I pulled out my phone and called for a medic. “I just wanted what was mine.”

  “I know that,” I said, looking back at Jack Lacey, who had gotten up from the deck and was now checking his hair in his reflection in the water off the side. “Me too, Theo,” I grimaced. “Me too.”

  Chapter 12

  “Want something to drink?” Jack asked me from the interior of his houseboat. Unlike The Good Storm, The Finder had a certain hand me down quality to it. While the boat Peter gifted me had all sorts of luxuries I had never been used
to as a lower middle-class kid growing up right off the Gulf, this boat hit a really familiar sweet spot with me. It was the sort of place I always imagined myself in when I was a kid. Rugged, small, and the sort of messy a man can only get away with when he hasn’t had a woman to keep him company for a while, it would have been really easy for me to kick my feet up and forget why I was here.

  I had just shot a man twice in the shoulder, arrested him, and sent him off on an ambulance to get checked out though. I wasn’t the type of guy to forget that. Especially not when that mountain of paperwork Jack had alluded to right before Theo attempted to put a bullet in me was still staring me down later this afternoon. For now, though, I needed to focus on the real reason I was here, and it wasn’t to get drunk with a down on his luck former Coast Guard officer.

  “I’ll pass Jack,” I said sternly, motioning for him to sit down on the across from me at the small table wedged against the wall of the ship’s tiny, tiled kitchen area.

  “My friends call me Lacey,” he said, and I detected a distinctly Northern accent. Oh good. He was a troublemaker and a Yankee. Could my day get any better?

  “Guess I’ll stick with Jack then,” I quipped as he sat next to me, twisting open the top on what looked to be a bottled Long Island Iced Tea. I started to ask him if he was actually going to drink that disgusting looking concoction, but he pulled it up to his lips and tipped it back.

  Question answered.

  “That’s no way to talk to someone who’s about to help you out, Dilly,” he said, setting the bottle back on the table and wiping his mouth. He smiled at me cockily as I leaned forward, my left bouncing under the table again.

  “You call me Dilly again, and you’ll lose at least a couple to those teeth. I laid my hands flat against the tabletop and continued. “And I figured you were going to help me because I’m the law and it’s the right thing to do.” I tilted my head to the side. “Though, if that’s not enough of a reason, I’m sure I can find something illegal enough in this boat to convince you to change your mind.”