by Mark Stone
Peter’s glove in the dead man’s hand along with my having seen him argue with the man was enough to get an arrest warrant for my half brother and, given everything that had happened lately, I wanted to be the one who broke that news to him. If he was responsible for destroying my home, then I wanted to look him in his beady eyes when the cuffs got slapped onto his wrists.
“They know we’re here,” Boomer reminded me, motioning back to the gate and the attendant who questioned us when we pulled up to it. “So maybe I should be the one to deal with this. Seeing as how the last time you talked with Peter, it ended up with a fistfight and a gun going off in public.”
“Not my best hour,” I admitted. “But I’ve got this. Besides,” I continued, patting the arrest warrant in my jacket pocket. “We’ve actually got the law on our side this time.”
“For now,” Boomer muttered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, looking over at my best friend as we grew nearer and nearer to the house.
“It means I think you’ve been away for so long, that maybe you’ve forgotten the way things work around here.” He looked forward. “Rich people get treated better than poor folk do. Your brother’s a powerful man and, now that your father’s in the ground, he’s the head of the most profitable business in the state. I’d be surprised if this goes down as smoothly as you hope it might.”
“If he comes at me, I’ll put him on his ass again,” I said, reminding Boomer the other thing that happened back at the church, the thing that ended with my brother’s shoulder getting broken.
“I’m not saying he’s going to attack you, Dil. I’m saying things don’t always go the way they should down here. Let’s not celebrate just yet.” He shook his head. “If I’ve learned anything from my time as chief of police here, it’s that these bastards always have something up their sleeves.”
I looked at my friend. He was smart and, more than that, he was right. I steeled myself and readied for what was about to happen.
As we rounded the last corner, I began to hear loud music in the air. Dropping the window as the house came into view, I realized it was jumping salsa music.
Looking forward, I saw at least two hundred people on an illuminated stage. They were dancing, drinking, and all around schmoozing with each other.
“He’s having a party,” I muttered, looking forward.
“Goddammit,” Boomer answered, jerking the car to a stop.
“What are you doing?” I asked, looking over. “This is a good thing. Let everyone see what’s about to happen.”
“No,” Boomer said, sighing loudly. “None of them are on our side. One slip up, one misstep and the entire arrest and everything coming out of it is forfeit. Do you have any idea how many lawyers are up on that stage? I’ll give you a hint. All the good ones!”
“Right is right, Boom,” I said, opening the door and getting out.
“Get back in the car!” he said, standing out and walking toward me. “You don’t need to be out here. Ethan was right. You’re too close to this.”
“You brought me here,” I reminded him, walking toward the party without breaking stride.
“That was when I thought it could be controlled. “I don’t need you losing your temper and twisting his broken arm the wrong way or something.”
He circled in front of me, and I moved to pass him. He grabbed my shoulder and stopped me anyway.
“Boomer, I—”
“Dillon, no!” he said and, for the first time maybe, his “official” tone was turned toward me. “Look. I get you’re invested in this, and I understand that. I even get that this is your home, but this is my job. This is my jurisdiction and I can’t put this arrest at risk. Stand back, and let me do this. You’ll have plenty of time with this son of a bitch once he’s out of earshot of Naples’s one percent and the bloodsuckers who keep their pockets padded by convincing them their rights have been trampled on.”
“I can control myself,” I said, nodding firmly.
“Then prove it. I’m going to call for backup. You get back in that rented car of yours and take it anywhere else in town. I don’t give a damn. Just get it out of here.” He shook his head. “The bastard’s going to lawyer up anyway. We won’t be able to question him until the morning. I promise you, when that happens, he’s all yours.”
I looked forward to the party. Somewhere inside of that crowd, my brother was dancing while the man he very likely killed lay cold in a morgue. I had to make him pay for that, even if it wasn’t me who brought him in.
“Just do it right,” I said.
“Always, Dil,” he said, slapped my shoulder, and headed toward the party.
I got back in my car and turned around from the evil king’s gated castle.
I had somewhere else to be anyway.
17
Naples at nighttime was a completely different world than the one we lived in during the day. Once the lights lined those city streets and the lantern lights illuminated the beaches, that was when the real party started for so many of this beachside community’s harder core players.
As a kid, I remembered Boomer, Charlotte, and I getting into more than a little trouble once the sun sank down into the distance on its way to the the other side of the country.
If Boomer was to be believed, all that trouble was downright innocent compared to what some of the townsfolk were up to these days. Back when I lived here, drugs were on the periphery. Sure, we were a Gulf town and, like other Gulf towns, there was always the threat of illegal imports of that garbage, but it always seemed so far away. Crap like that happened in other places, not in Naples, not right where I lived.
I shook my head as I drove through the city. I couldn’t think about that right now, and I sure as hell couldn’t think about what was going on up at Storm Place. If I let myself so much as even consider the fact that my half brother was being hauled into custody, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from rushing over there.
I couldn’t do that. Boomer had been right. Hell, the district attorney fellow had been right too. I was close to this. I was a victim, after all. I couldn’t get my hands too muddy with this investigation, not if I wanted it to come across as impartial to a judge and then, hopefully, to a jury of his peers. I needed to free my mind of Peter Storm, of all the Storms.
To my knowledge, there were only two cures when my stress levels got this high. One of them was fishing and, since it was both too late and too early for that sort of thing, I was left with the second one: alcohol and a pretty girl.
That was more than fine by me. It had always been more fun than the fish anyway.
But I wasn’t in Chicago, and I couldn’t act like I was. I couldn’t be a stranger down here. It just wouldn’t work the same way. Sure, I had the badge, but I couldn’t disappear into a persona in Naples. I was a homegrown boy, a sun-kissed son through and through. The stranger thing was the fact that I didn’t want to though.
The idea of dropping into one of those clubs or bars and picking up a woman with hungry eyes and hopefully talented hands didn’t seem as appealing to me as it should have. And I knew exactly why.
The truth was, there was only one woman I wanted to see tonight. She had always taken the stench of the Storms off of me. She had always cleared my mind and made me feel like I could do anything. If there was one thing I needed tonight, it was to feel that way again. So I grabbed a six pack from Qwicky Jack’s and headed off for an impromptu and unannounced nightcap with the only woman besides my mother who had ever heard me say I loved her.
^
I got to Charlotte’s house about fifteen minutes later, just enough time to reconsider what I was doing. I should have called her first, but if I did, there was a chance she’d tell me not to come. I couldn’t risk that. I needed to see her. I needed to talk. I needed her to touch my hand and take away all the garbage like she did when we were kids.
Only we weren’t kids anymore, and maybe it was unfair of me to ask her to play that part for
me again. Just because I found myself back in this mindset didn’t mean Charlotte could, and it certainly didn’t mean she’d want to even if she could.
I was already sitting in the driveway though, and I had come too far to turn back now. I killed the engine and grabbed the six pack, at once embarrassed and excited about how fast my heart was beating.
The house Charlotte lived in now was a smaller one than where she’d grown up, though only about a half a mile down the same road from the two-story adobe style home where I’d picked her up for prom. Still, it was nice; a short white square with painted blue shudders and flower boxes in the windows.
A man could make a home here. A man could make a home with this woman. Of course, I’d missed my chance at that.
Pushing the truth of our current situation out of my mind along with the fact that I hadn’t answered her all, day, I made my way up to her front door. This was quiet little neighborhood, more country than one might expect this close to town. But Naples was basically the tip of the Everglades. So anywhere that wasn’t built up by businesses and concrete jungles was basically flirting with swamps. It wouldn’t surprise me to see some wildlife out here, maybe even a gator. In a weird way, I’d kind of missed that. Chicago wasn’t this close to nature, and there were definitely no gators walking around.
I looked over at the next house, just as quiet and sleepy looking as Charlotte’s. A pang of guilt ran through me. It was very late at night. I couldn’t help but wonder what Charlotte’s neighbors would think if they saw me at her door at this hour.
I shook my head, pushing past that thought too. I was already at her front door. I had the beer in my hand and a head filled to the brim with stress and trouble. I needed to talk to her. I needed to unwind.
So I knocked. Like I’d said, it was late. So when her porch light came on and Charlotte opened the door almost instantly, it startled me enough that I backed up a few steps.
“Dilly?” she asked, opening the screen door. “Is everything okay? Is it your grandfather?”
She was dressed in a white robe tied together at her waist which flowed down to right above her knees. She looked to have a white shirt on under it and her feet were bare, her toes painted. She looked up at me, half worried and half expectant, tendrils of red hair dipping into eyes that shone every bit as bright as the moon tonight.
“He’s fine,” I answered, almost breathlessly. “I mean, he’s not fine. He’s sick, but he’s okay tonight.”
Charlotte looked at me expectantly.
“Cancer,” I said, nodding firmly and blinking at the girl.
Her face dropped. “Lord in Heaven. Dilly, I’m so sorry.” Slowly, she moved forward and wrapped her arms around me, knitting her hands together behind my neck.
I felt myself reacting, my own arms encasing her like we were back at prom, like no time had passed at all.
She tensed up and pulled away, and I realized the six pack had pressed against her back.
“It’s cold,” she said, pushing hair out of her face. “Why do you have that, Dilly?” she asked, looking at the beer.
“It’s stupid,” I admitted. “We made an arrest in the case tonight, and I wanted to talk about it. I wanted to talk about a lot of things actually.”
“You could have fooled me,” she said, her stare like daggers in my chest. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all day.”
“I know,” I agreed. “I was being stupid. I talked to Boomer. He said you and I should have a conversation. He said there’s something that happened I should know about.”
“Did he?” Charlotte asked, sighing loudly. “Did he happen to tell you what that thing was?”
“He wouldn’t,” I said. “And I’m glad he didn’t. I’ve been thinking, Charlotte. Maybe I haven’t been seeing everything exactly as it happened. I put a lot of pressure on you to leave with me, and that wasn’t fair. You had a life here. You had a family and friends. You had every reason in the world to stay.”
“Not every reason,” she said. “I didn’t have you.”
Another pang of guilt hit me and I stilled myself until I could hear the crash of the waves in the distance, falling against rocks in the most soothing of manners.
“I’m not asking for things to be like they were,” I said, swallowing hard. “I know too much time has passed for that. It’s just, I spent my entire life down here feeling like I was running. I was running from my father, from his name and his family. I was running from the failure that everyone thought I was destined to be. Even in Chicago, I feel like I’m trying to chase down some dream, trying to prove I’m good enough.. It’s exhausting, baby. I’ve been running my whole damned life, and you’re the only person who ever made me feel like I could stop.”
She stared at me for a long, excruciating moment. I couldn’t tell what that look on her face meant.
“You can come in,” she said, “but only for a minute.” She looked back inside, as though there might be someone to disturb in there and my heart crashed into the bottom of my gut. The waves hit against the rocks in the distance again but, this time, I felt in league with them. Was she married? Was that what Boomer didn’t want to tell me about.
“Somebody in there, Char?” I asked, internally wincing at the fact that I’d just called her “baby”.
“Just come inside. I’ll explain everything,” she said, turned and walked away from the door. “Who’d you arrest by the way?”
“My good for nothing half brother,” I said, walking into her house.
“Peter?” she asked, in a confused and almost troubling tone. “You arrested Peter?”
“Boomer’s probably bringing him into the station now. We found a body out of town and we’ve got enough evidence on him to bring charges.”
“Oh,” she said, turning and swallowing hard. “Oh no.”
I was about to ask why on earth she’d give a damn about my half brother being a murderer, but something on the inside of the house stole my attention.
The small living room was covered with toys. Plastic guns, a miniature basketball hoop, and action figures littered the carpet. Suddenly, Charlotte’s apprehension made sense.
“You’ve got a son,” I said, looking up at her and remembering a few things she’d said since my return. She talked about having something to keep her busy, and she’d had to make that call the other night at the hospital. It made sense. She had a kid. That was what Boomer had wanted to tell me, but couldn’t.
“Isaac,” she answered. “He’s almost seven. He’s amazing.”
“Congratulations,” I said, but my heart hurt more than a little. I had spent more than a few drunken nights wondering what it might have been like if I’d stayed here. Most times, a house like this was in the equation. So was Charlotte. So was a son.
It was all real, only they weren’t mine.
“You’re married?” I asked, looking at the floor.
“No. Never,” she answered. “His father, it’s complicated. That’s actually what I needed to talk to you about. You see—”
I spied a picture in the corner and walked over to it. It was Charlotte at the lake and a little boy was in her lap wearing floaties and the biggest smile I’d ever seen. “This him?” I asked. “He’s—”
I was about to say handsome, but then I saw it. His eyes, they were like mine. No, they were mine. His features were similar to mine as well, too similar for it to be coincidental.
But he couldn’t be mine. He was six and I had been gone for twice that long. How could it be? How could Charlotte have a son who looked like me and not be mine?
The truth slammed into me like a wrecking ball and the walls I had been busy building around myself came crashing down. I felt sick. I felt like I was dying. What Boomer had said about Charlotte needing to talk to me, the way she’d reacted when I told her we’d arrested Peter.
“It’s his,” I said, blinking and turning back to Charlotte. “That kid, your son…it’s his son too, isn’t it?”
There were
already tears in her eyes when I looked at her. I didn’t need her to answer. Those worked just as well as words.
“Keep the beer,” I said, pushing past her and walking out the door.
“Dilly, wait,” she said, and I could hear her walking after me.
I turned, feeling a tidal wave of a million things at once. Anger hit me first, and then a crash of humiliation. Disgust was next, then sadness. “Don’t,” I said flatly. “Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that.”
Then I turned and walked out the door.
18
Back in my car, my head was spinning. How was this even possible? How did I not know this? If Charlotte had a kid with my half brother, making Isaac my nephew, then shouldn’t I have known somehow?
My heart was pounding as I made what was my fifth circle on Main, trying to understand how this happened.
Of course it happened, I thought, cranking the Eagles up to full volume and trying to outrun this pounding in my skull. I had left Naples, ran away from this damned place as quickly as my legs could carry me. I hadn’t looked back. Sure, I’d thought about the land. I thought about how much I loved the area, the beaches, the gulf, even the damned swamp. I talked to my grandfather, but he had never been the type to keep up on gossip. He had always kept to himself and a small circle of friends who obviously skewed older than Charlotte and I. Boomer had made his position on this very clear. Still, a pretty big piece of me thought he was a crappy friend for keeping this from me.
This woman, she had been the most important in my entire life after my mother. He knew how I’d felt about her, how I’d given so much of myself to her.
Still, did any of that matter? We were kids back then. I was fresh out of school when I left this place, and how many people are with their high school sweethearts at thirty-two? How many of them even still care? I hadn’t kept in touch with Charlotte. I certainly hadn’t been pining over her for the dozen years I spent in Chicago. Could Boomer really be blamed for thinking I was over her. Hell, I thought I was over her until I saw her the other night.
