by David Banner
"You did well, Mr. Waters. Albeit you've destroyed half this dock, but I'm sure those crimes will fall in the lap of Ms. Alvarez there," Detective Morris said. "The Longboat Key Police Department thanks you for your cooperation. As does the Tampa PD."
"You're welcome," I said.
"You did well, son. I'm sure the family of Sharon Rhodes will be happy to hear her true killer has been charged."
"I told you, Patrick Connelly is innocent."
"Listen, son." The officer took a step closer to me. "Sharon Rhodes was a drug dealer, she worked for drug dealers, and now, those drug dealers are behind bars. Everything turned out the way it was supposed to. Leave it alone."
"He might be guilty of a million crimes, that's true, but he's not guilty of that one."
"Mr. Waters, listen to me, leave this alone. I don't need unsolved murders mucking up my reputation on this island. If those people wouldn't have sent her out into the street to sell drugs, then she'd probably still be alive. So, the way I'm looking at it, those people are guilty of her death," Detective Morris said.
The detective turned and walked away. It wasn't supposed to that way, that wasn't our plan, we were supposed to clear Patrick Connelly after everything went down. But I guess I failed, and though he may have been a drug dealer, I just didn't feel right about someone being locked up for a crime they didn't commit.
I stood completely still as I watched the culmination of everything play out before my eyes. Oliva Connelly and her grandson Jacob were handcuffed and placed in the back of a police car, no doubt awaiting transportation back to Anna Maria Island to face the charges of their crimes.
The same for Sofia Alvarez, I watched as an officer escorted her toward his car, her hands cuffed behind her back, and her long, green dress flowing in the night air. "I can honestly say, Mr. Waters, you fooled me, and that's not easily done. But I wouldn't go counting your chickens just yet, I'm not the kind of woman to be kept down. I promise you, Brandon. This isn't the end of you and me, I'll be back for you."
"I look forward to it," I said, turning, and leaving her behind.
I'd gone through so much to get there, to see Sofia put behind bars where she belonged, to free Micah, Rachel, and Zoey, and it was all finally happening. Relief washed over me when in the distance I saw Randy's boat glide into the dock.
"Big brother!" Micah said as he and Rachel ran full speed toward me.
I opened my arms wide, taking them both into a wide embrace, it felt good having my family back safe and in my arms. I pulled Rachel’s head away and looked into her eyes. "I'm sorry," I said.
"We're all here now. That's all that matters." She kissed my lips.
"Are you both okay?" I asked.
"Dude!" Micah said. "Are you kidding. That place was like a freaking vacation, we basically just sat around eating cheese, watching movies, and drinking wine."
"The whole time?"
"Yeah. Don't get me wrong, Sofia is a fucking psycho, but damn if she isn't a hospitable hostess. Not to mention that girl she had come over and do the cooking ... Girl was a freak. Let me tell you ..."
"Let's not," Rachel said. "Walking in on the two of you was enough. I don't need the play-by-play recap."
"Oh my God," I said. "Look at the two of you, sitting around drinking wine and watching Miss Congeniality, or whatever, all while I'm running around, getting shot at and electrocuted."
"We only watched Miss Congeniality like once ... Fine, twice," Micah said.
"Whatever," I said. "I'm just glad you're both safe."
"Daddy!" Zoey’s voice bounced off the rows of containers.
Charles Mitchell dropped to his knee and outstretched his arms as his daughter leapt forward, crashing into him, and melting into a pool of tears. That was it, I'd done what I promised to do, my brother was safe, Rachel was safe, and Zoey Mitchell made it back to her parents, unharmed.
"Did you have any trouble getting away?"
"Nope," Rachel said. "Once everyone saw what was happening here in the news, security in the house got a little lax. After that, we just went out the back and hopped on the boat with Randy, just like you planned."
"I still don't understand how you got that information back to her," Micah said.
"I'm not sure either," I said. "One little text to a random number and she had the plan. I guess Hope taught her well."
"Hey!" Rachel said. "Where is Hope?"
"I don't know, once she saw the police, and realized everything was okay, she just kinda vanished."
"That's a shame," Rachel said. "I didn't get the chance to thank her."
"Let's go home," Micah said.
"Alright."
With Rachel’s fingers wrapped in mine, and Micah's hand on my shoulder, we headed back to Randy's boat where he stood waiting with a big smile on his face. When I first met Randy I never knew how thankful I'd be, and how much I would come to rely on him to help me out when I needed it the most. The same could be said for Hope, I just wished she would have stuck around long enough for me to tell her that.
"Mr. Waters," Charles Mitchell called out from behind me.
"Yes." I stopped.
"I just wanted to thank you for getting my daughter back, and for helping get those dealers off the street. My wife and I thank you very much!" He shook my hand.
"It was my pleasure, I know how happy you must be, how happy you both must be." I extended my hand to his wife who, without missing a beat, turned her back and walked away.
"She's been under a lot of stress lately, with everything that's been happening."
"I understand," I said. "Not a problem, see you around."
"You'll see me tomorrow, you all will," Charles said. "I'm inviting you over to my house for dinner, as a small thank you."
"No can do," Micah said. "I've got a restaurant set to open in two days, and I've still got a million things to do, but I appreciate the offer, I really do."
"Same for me," Rachel chimed in. "I've got about ten people to hire in one day."
"Alright." Charles laughed. "I guess it's just you then, Brandon."
"I ..."
"Oh, come on now, don't leave me hanging."
"Alright," I said. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow it is," Charles said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I HATED HAVING TO GO TO CHARLES MITCHELL'S HOUSE ALONE. I mean, yes, I got his daughter back, and over the last few days we had been through a lot of shared grief and worry, but having dinner with someone, was something else altogether. What would we talk about? How long was I supposed to stay? Were there drinks, and if so, were they strong?
'Ding Ding'
The faint sound of the Mitchell's doorbell bled through the large wooden door. This would mark the second time I'd been in his home, only this time, I was actually invited. And maybe that invitation would afford me a calm, and collected conversation, something Charles and I still hadn't been able to get down.
"Good evening, Brandon," he said opening the door.
"Hi," I said.
"Come on in, Theresa is setting dinner out now, I hope you like fried chicken."
"Who doesn't like fried chicken?" I asked, plastering on my best 'happy to be here' grin.
This wasn't my favorite part of things. Honestly, half the reason I had always been so adamant against going down the same career path as my parents—other than the end they met because of it—was the close, and often intimate, relationships they forged with their clients.
They always made it look so easy, as though they enjoyed it, maybe they did. Maybe that was just another way in which we differed.
"Good. Come inside then," Charles said, giving me a pat on the back. "I hope you don't mind that Zoey isn't here tonight. After everything that happened, we thought it might be in her best interest to get out of town for a bit. She's with her mother up in Georgia for bit."
"Her mother?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "I was under the impression Theresa was her mother." I looked over at him, sh
rugging off Micah's dinner jacket—because I didn't have one of my own—and allowing him to hang it up by the door.
"Theresa is my second wife," he admitted. "Zoey is my daughter with Laurel, my first wife. We were young when we got married; just out of college. You know how that can be, we honestly had no idea who we even were at the time; let alone, who we needed to be with."
"I guess so," I said, already uncomfortable with the intimate direction the conversation had taken. "How's about we dig into that chicken?" I asked, desperate to change the subject. "I hope you have mashed potatoes."
"Of course, we do," he answered, chuckling. "Landshark wouldn't dare fry up chicken without mashed potatoes, she knows how I feel about them, and okra too," he added, shaking his head.
My heart skipped a beat as I heard the name he'd called her. My mind slapped back to my last meeting with Sharon Rhodes, to the name that sprawled across her cellphone screen. It was this name, the very unique name, Charles had just called his second wife.
"What did you just say?" I asked, sure that the color had drained from my face.
"Okra," he answered. "Is that too country for you? Have you never had it? Well, I promise it'll be a treat. You'll be thanking your lucky stars that you came here ton—"
"Not the damn okra," I said, obviously too intensely. "I mean, I'm sorry. I'm sure the okra is fantastic," I added, reading the shocked look on the almost-District Attorney's face. "I mean, what did you call your wife? That's an odd name."
"Landshark?" he asked, his expression brightening up and his body falling loose again. "Oh, that's just a nickname she's got. Had it since she was a kid, to hear her tell it. It's a compliment, because she was so intense with everything she does, I mostly just call her that to get under her skin though."
"Where—where is the Landshark now?" I asked, my mouth dry and puzzle pieces finally clicked together in my mind. I had been wrong about everything, and the truth had been staring me right in the face the entire time. "I'd like to thank her personally for dinner."
"That's nice of you, though it's really her who should be thanking you. After all, you saved our Zoey," he answered. "She's in the kitchen though, why don't you pop in and say hey, and I'll pour us a couple of drinks. Nothing like bourbon to bring out the flavor of fried chicken."
I smiled and followed his directions to the kitchen.
When I got there, Theresa was standing behind the island, a butcher knife in her hand as she sliced through what I could only imagine was okra.
She looked up at me and, like before when she refused to shake my hand, there was no smile on her face. Finally, I understood why.
"The bathroom is on the other side of the hall," she said in a clipped manner.
"She would have stopped," I said, staring at her, and fiddling with the phone in my pocket. "You didn't have to do this."
Her eyes went dark, and I knew she knew exactly what I was talking about.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, lying.
Well, guess there goes the hope it would be easy.
"I'm going to find her phone," I said. "Sharon Rhodes, she threw it into the Gulf. I'm going to find her phone, and when I do, it'll prove you called her the day I saw her. I'll bet it'll prove that you called her more than a few times. You knew about the affair, didn't you? You knew your husband was cheating on you, and you thought this woman could bring down the career he'd worked so hard to build." I shook my head. "That both of you worked so hard to build."
"You're insane," she said calmly, the butcher knife still in her hand.
"I'm not the one who kept the ruse going after her own daughter was kidnapped."
"She's not my daughter!" she snapped. "She's a pigheaded brat, and I wish they'd have killed her." She walked out from behind the island. "I wish they'd have killed you too." She came toward me. "I guess I'll have to finish the job myself."
I pulled out my phone to show it to her, in the middle of a phone call I'd started while in my pocket.
"You called the police? They'll never get to you in time. I've done a lot of things I thought I'd never do to get my husband and I where we are, Mr. Waters. Killing a man is just something else on the list, especially if that man is you," she said.
"No, not the police," I said, pushing the door open behind me to reveal Charles standing there, his phone to his ear. "Not the police at all."
Theresa looked at her husband, knowing everything had fallen apart where she stood, everything she worked so hard for, had all fallen apart right in front of her.
"Charles," she muttered. "It was—he was—" She dropped the knife.
"I've heard enough," he said. "I know I'm not perfect, and I can't say having an affair was the moral thing to do, but you were once that other woman. And besides, you knew this when you married me."
"Get over yourself, Charles," Theresa said. "Without me, you'd be nothing. I'm the one that brought your campaign up from the ground, I'm the one who hired this asshole in the first place."
"What?" I asked.
"Yes, Mr. Waters," she said. "Or hadn't you figured that out yet."
"It was you? You were the scared wife?"
"I'm a wife alright, but I'm not one bit scared!" she said, coming toward me.
"No!" Charles said, grabbing her hands, and wrapping them behind her back. "I've had enough of this."
"I think we all have." Glaring at her, I added, "Now, I’m going to call the police.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“W
ELL?” MICAH YELLED OVER THE MUSIC. “What do ya think?”
Freefish was open, at long last. It felt like another lifetime ago that my brother and I replaced the first board in the old building. It felt like I had seen the world crash into itself, then rebuild all over again.
“It looks awesome,” I said, grabbing the back of his neck, and pulling him closer. “You did great, little bro!"
"We did great," he said, jabbing a fist into my side.
"Where's Rachel?"
"I think she's outside, by the water."
"But look, check it out! That girl has been flirting with me all night," Micah said, pointing to a woman sitting at the bar with her back to me.
"Awesome," I said. "Is she cute?"
"I'd like to think so!" she said, turning around in her stool.
Her hair was different, cut into a short blonde pixie-cut, but I'd recognize those shimmering eyes anywhere in the world.
"Hope!" I said.
"You didn't tell me your little brother was so cute!"
"What are you—"
"Go outside." She smiled at me. "Get our girl!"
I began making my way through the crowd of dancing people, they all seemed completely happy, completely at peace, like they were lost in the music without a care in the world. It's an odd feeling, coming in from such chaos and worry, and finding yourself amidst the polar opposite of that only hours later.
But I was proud of my little brother, he'd done it. The bar was open, people were dancing, and drinks were being poured faster than the waves came in. It was a success, and it was in large part due to Micah. Micah and ...
"There you are," I said, coming up behind Rachel.
"It just got a little loud in there."
"Yea. I know what you mean."
She looked at me and smiled, wrapping her hand in mine, and staring off into the dark ocean waters.
"Why so quiet?" I asked.
"I'm not sure ..." she said, not taking her eyes off the water. "I ... I had a lot of time to think about things when I was in that house."
"Yeah ..."
"What are we doing, Brandon?"
"What do you mean?"
"What are we doing? Where is this going?"
"I ... I don't know," I said. "Are you asking me if I'm going to propose to you or something."
"Do you want to?"
"Do you want me to?"
"No," she said. "I mean ... I want you to do what you want to do. But I don't
want to make you do anything, and honestly, I'm not sure what I'd say."
"Then, what are you saying?" I asked.
"I don't know what I'm saying."
"Well then, neither do it."
"It's just, look, Sofia Alvarez is a lunatic, obviously. But she's driven, she made a choice, stuck with it, and became a powerful woman. Granted it didn't end so well, but she still did what she thought she needed to do."
"Yeah," I said.
"Well, what am I doing?"
"I thought you were here, with me."
"I am," she said. "I am here for you. But I just feel like I need to be somewhere for me ... Ya know?"
"I do," I said. "I mean ... I think I do. So, are you telling me you're leaving?"
"Not tonight," she said, finally looking at me. "Maybe tomorrow."
It was frustrating. On one hand I understood exactly where she was coming from. It's hard feeling like you're not doing the things you should be doing for yourself. Feeling like your only purpose is to be someone else's idea of what you should be. But on the other hand, I loved Rachel. Maybe I hadn't said the words, I couldn't be sure. And maybe I wasn't in love in the way the movies said I needed to be, but she held a place in my heart. That was something no one could take away.
"This is your life to live, Rachel, not mine. I won't ask you to stay," I said.
"I know," she said. "But I kinda wish you would."
"Then stay ..."
Want to know what happens next to Brandon, Micah, Hope, and the rest of the Anna Maria Island gang?
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