Fallen Out: Jesse McDermitt Series, The Beginning

by Wayne Stinnett

  “That’s good,” Rusty shouted over the noise, as we all found places to sit. The two girls sat at the settee with Jimmy who kept them occupied with a video game on the laptop. “It’ll be off the coast way up to Fort Pierce just after midnight and by sunrise the sky here’ll be clear as it was in the eye. That was something else, wasn’t it?”

  “You sound like you’d never seen it before,” I said. “I thought you’d been through dozens of these storms.”

  “I have. That was just the first time I was in the eye.”

  The wind on the backside of the storm died down pretty fast, as did the rain. By midnight, it was blowing about like it had been two days earlier. I suggested everyone get some rest. Since nobody would be coming into the bay to escape the storm now that it was over, we didn’t need a watch. I was very tired and was asleep almost instantly.

  It seemed like only a few minutes later, I sensed a change in the boat’s attitude and was instantly awake again. A glance at my watch told me that I’d been sleeping over three hours. As I started to get up, thinking one or more of the lines might have come loose, I heard the hatch open in the salon.

  I came out of bed instantly, pulling my Sig from under the pillow and pulled back the slide, checking to see if a round was still chambered, even though I knew there was. I heard footsteps quietly crossing the deck in the salon and was about to yank open the hatch to my stateroom when I heard Savannah’s voice. “Don’t shoot me, Jesse.”

  I lowered the gun and opened the hatch. She was shrugging out of her rain slicker, barefoot as usual. But this time, she had nothing on under the slicker.

  The smell of coffee roused me once more, as sunlight filtered through the overhead hatch. I moved my arm, Savannah was curled up with her head on my shoulder. I slowly eased my arm out from under her and rose from the bed, slipped my shorts on and padded barefoot to the galley.

  “Jesse!” Rusty shouted from outside. I quickly moved to the hatch and went out onto the cockpit. “Savannah’s gone! The hatch to her cabin was open and she’s gone. Is she on board the Revenge?”

  “Will you calm down? You’re gonna wake the dead. Yeah, she’s inside.”

  His big shoulders rose as he sighed. “That’s good, I didn’t hear her get up this morning.” He walked into the salon and started pouring a cup of coffee. “She in the head?” he whispered.

  “Um, not exactly. I’ll be right back.”

  I went down the steps to my stateroom. Savannah was awake, her hair in complete disarray. “I didn’t think to bring any clothes,” she said smiling coyly.

  I opened one of the drawers in the dresser and pulled out an old pair of cutoffs and a belt. “Try these,” I said. “We’ll obviously have to cut a hole in the belt.” I pulled out a Dockside tee-shirt I’d bought that was too small for me and tossed it on the bed with a grin. “Rusty’s in the salon.”

  “Yeah, I heard him,” she said as she shimmied the shorts up over her hips, then pulled the tee-shirt on. We walked up into the galley. Jimmy and Josh were there with Rusty, all three of them staring and grinning.

  “Thanks for the loan, Jesse,” she said. “I think I’ll go get a shower before breakfast.”

  The three men stepped aside to let her pass and once she closed the hatch, Rusty said, “You old dog!”

  “Shut up and pour me a coffee.”

  From that point on, we were inseparable, together day and night. For seven days.

  Chapter Eleven

  When I woke up the eighth day after the storm, the memory of the hurricane was way in the back of my mind. I reached out for Savannah and she wasn’t there. Probably getting us a cup of coffee, I thought. A few minutes later I got out of bed and went to look. She wasn’t in the galley. I stepped out into the cockpit and looked up at the bridge, where we’d enjoyed watching the sun rise since we got back from Tarpon Bay last week. Nothing. I looked toward Dockside, thinking she’d gone inside to buy something and that’s when I noticed her boat wasn’t in its slip.

  I leaped over the transom and ran down the dock. Her boat was gone. Her dinghy, which had been on the port side pier, was gone too. I ran to Dockside, yanked open the door and walked quickly across to Aaron’s office. “Did Savannah leave?”

  “Yeah, just after midnight. She said to give you this.” He handed me a sealed envelope, which I tore open as I walked out of his office and out the back door into the early morning sunlight.

  Dear Jesse,

  I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you. I hope you’ll

  forgive me sneaking out in the middle of the night. It’s been

  a lot of fun, but it was time for me to move on.

  Sharlee called while you were at the store yesterday.

  She’s in Key Largo and ready to go home. To be honest it’s

  time for me to do the same. Mom and Dad will be back next

  week, and I have responsibilities at home.

  Please don’t try to call or get in touch. I lied about having

  gone through a tough divorce. We’re only separated. He wants

  to try again and to be honest, so do I. I’m sorry.

  I’ll remember you,

  Savannah

  I wadded it up and started to throw it in the water, but shoved it in my pocket instead. I walked back to the Revenge and started to untie her. Then I looked over at the Maverick tied up at the dinghy dock. I went aboard, gathered some clothes, canned food, loaded a cooler with beer and water, and carried them over to the Maverick. I started the engine, then went back and opened the bunk, pulled out the fly rod case and two of the water tight boxes and carried them to the Maverick also, after locking up the Revenge.

  The Maverick already had bait casting rods, a cast net, spear gun, and snorkeling gear locked in a fish box, so I untied the lines, stepped aboard and backed her out. Minutes later, I was flying under the Seven Mile Bridge, heading to my island oasis.

  I spent the next six nights camping on the island. By day, I snorkeled for lobster, speared fish, drank beer, and shot beer cans. I made a daily run to a nearby marina on Big Pine for more beer, water, and ice. On the second day, I noticed they had picks and shovels for sale, so I bought one of each. I spent the next five mornings, standing in calf deep water, swinging the pick and shoveling sand, with the Maverick anchored where I’d dug the previous day. It was hard, wet work, but I enjoyed it immensely.

  After five days, I had a trench from Harbor Channel that was wide enough and deep enough to get my skiff all the way up to the island, where I’d carved a notch right into dry land, bringing her up under the overhanging mangroves.

  In the afternoon of the seventh day, I was clearing the last of the underbrush in the middle of the island. My body was sore, scratched all to hell and I’d probably lost ten pounds. But, I felt good. It’d been a while since I’d last worked hard in the hot sun, sweat dripping from my hair and body. I heard an outboard far to the southeast, headed toward me. I walked down to where the Maverick was tied up and waded out to the stern, pulling my Sig from one of the watertight boxes. A few minutes later, Julie came flying through the cut in Cutoe Banks and turned sharply heading straight toward my island, in her dad’s skiff. I put the Sig back in the box.

  Noticing the spoils from where I’d dug the channel and seeing me standing at the end of it, she idled straight up and cut the engine just before she got to the end. She threw me a line and I made it fast to a tree branch.

  She climbed out and splashed across the water toward me. Throwing her arms around my neck, she said, “We’ve been worried about you, Uncle Jesse.”

  “What’d I tell you about that ‘uncle’ stuff?”

  “Screw you!” she shouted stepping away and putting her hands on her hips. “So it makes you feel old. You’re the closest thing I have to an uncle and I will damn well call you that, if I want to.”

  She had tears filling her eyes as she said it. She reminded me a lot of her mom, just then. Rusty’s wife was hell on wheels and one of the toughest w
omen I’d ever met. It took a lot to keep Rusty in line, back in the day.

  “I’m sorry,” I said sheepishly.

  “Well you damn well should be! Aaron told dad what happened last week. He was going to come up here himself, but I told him it’d be better if I did.”

  I sat down on the gunwale of the Maverick and opened the cooler for a beer, then thought better of it and grabbed two bottles of water and gave her one.

  “You know Jimmy had to cancel two charters this week? Are you coming home soon? Everyone’s worried about you.”

  “What’s to worry?” I said, with a bit too much bravado. “I just needed to get away for a while and get my head on straight. I’ll be back in a day or two and I’ll pay Jimmy for those missed charters.”

  “Look, Uncle Jesse, it’s not just that. You have friends here. People who care about you. So you got dumped. It happens all the time, especially down here. Women, and men too, they come and go. They have a quick fling with a local and head back to reality. Grow a pair and get over it. Do the same to them. You know what they say, ‘When in the Keys’.”

  I laughed. “Grow a pair?”

  She smiled and said, “Yeah, grow some balls and get back in the game.”

  “You remind me a lot of your mom.”

  “Yeah, dad says that all the time.”

  “She was wise beyond her years, too. Get on home, now, before it gets dark. I’ll be back tomorrow. I just have a little more work to do here.”

  “What exactly are you doing, anyway?”

  “Well, right here where we’re standing will one day be a dock below my house. It won’t be much of house, maybe twenty feet by fifty feet, built up on stilts. If you look through there,” I said, pointing through the mangroves. “I’ve cleared the interior of the island and plan to start a garden.”

  “A garden? In coral rock and sand, with seawater just a couple feet under it? What do you plan to grow?”

  “It can be done,” I said. Truth was, I hadn’t thought about that part of it. “Well, it might take some work. Now, you get going. Darkness comes early these days.”

  “Uncle Jesse, I know the back country up here better than almost any man. There’s not a cut, or coral head, I can’t find blind folded.”

  “Okay then. Want to stay for supper?”

  “What’s on the grill?”

  “Lobster and stone crab claws. The pantry’s a little short on vegetables, though.”

  “Sounds good,” she said. “I’ll call dad and tell him I’ll be a little late.” She pulled a cell phone out of her pocket and opened it. Closing it, she stuck it back in her pocket. “Give me a boost up to that branch in the gumbo limbo tree behind you.”

  I boosted her up and she climbed another twenty feet up into the branches, before pulling the phone out again and punching some buttons. I heard her tell Rusty she was going to stay and have supper with me and would be home in a couple of hours. She listened for a minute and told him not to worry, I was okay and would be back tomorrow. Then she climbed down again.

  I finished clearing some brush while she got a fire started and split the lobster tails with my heavy dive knife. We ate quickly, then she left. I’d been married before and had two daughters. Hadn’t seen them in nearly two years now. Rusty and Julie were the closest thing I had to family and I knew it was wrong to take off and worry them like that.

  I stoked more wood on the fire, adding some wet driftwood on top. I found out that with the wet wood, the fire would burn for hours and keep the mosquitoes away. Then I stretched out in a hammock I’d bought at the marina on Big Pine and was soon fast asleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  Winter passed quickly. Jimmy and I worked hard making the charter operation better. We were able to raise our prices twice and were still turning people away. By spring, as we rolled into the slow season, we began to get fewer dive charters.

  I increased Jimmy’s working wage to $250 a charter, on top of his $400 a week to be available. He was a hard worker and his expertise in the technology department meant a lot more income to the boat.

  After a very long investigation, Earl and his buddies were tried on three counts of kidnapping, four counts of assault and battery, one count of attempted murder, and multiple counts of sexual assault, including sexual assault on a child. They were all sentenced to life in prison.

  I was called to appear as a prosecution witness. So were Savannah and Charlotte. It was a little awkward, meeting her husband outside the federal courthouse in Miami, but I just pretended she didn’t mean anything. Just helping out a fellow Marine.

  As the summer doldrums rolled in and I celebrated my first year as a civilian, our charters became fewer still and mostly fishing. I preferred the dive charters, but to keep Jimmy flush with cash, we took out at least one or two fishing charters a week throughout the summer months.

  Life at the marina slowed down in summer. Liveaboards pulled anchor and headed back up north to home ports. There were still quite a few tourists, mostly Floridians from the mainland, but they usually brought their own boats.

  I spent the days doing routine maintenance on the Revenge with Jimmy. It didn’t need much, but it kept us busy until early afternoon, when he’d head home and I’d take a few beers up to the bridge. Occasionally someone would stop by and join me, usually Rusty, or one of the shrimpers. Sometimes, there’d be three or four of us sitting up there. It got to be a regular event.

  Occasionally, tourists who somehow found Dockside, would wander out to the docks and occasionally strike up a conversation. Boot Key Harbor isn’t visible from US-1, so the only tourists that found their way here, learned of its existence from someone else. I met a few women who came down to get away from whatever reality they were trapped in. A few managed to spend the night aboard the Revenge.

  As summer drifted on, I started spending more of my days up on the island. To stay in shape, I did timed swims around another small island about three quarters of a mile to the northeast. Depending on the current, I’d either have a hard swim out or a hard swim back. When I wasn’t on the island, I ran. Dockside is on Sombrero Boulevard, which is a one and a half mile loop around a park. Every morning, when I was in Marathon, I’d run the loop twice. Between the swimming and running, I managed to keep the beer from putting any extra weight on.

  We didn’t have any hurricane scares to speak of all summer long. By fall, we were back into lobster season and were doing three or four charters a week, half of which were photographers. In late September, I had Jimmy add a Thursday night dive to the website, especially for photographers, and within a few days it was booked through the end of the year. Julie volunteered to help out on the night dives.

  At first I thought that was going to be a problem, Jimmy and Julie working side by side. But, he’d given up on her and found a girlfriend, by the name of Angie. He introduced me to her one day. She was from Mobile, Alabama. Her dad was a shrimper and they’d just moved to Key West and he bought his own shrimp trawler.

  On the evening of November 10th, instead of sitting up on the bridge and it being a Friday, I put on shoes and headed over to the Anchor. It wasn’t just any Friday. November 10th is the birthday of the Marine Corps. Rusty said he was planning a celebration and I’d better be there.

  Since it was only a half mile, going through the woods, and because the International wasn’t running again, I walked over. I probably should replace the old truck, but then I’d be constantly worried about getting a ding in the door, or someone stealing it.

  Coming out of the woods, across the canal from the Anchor, I could see that the parking lot was already more than half full and there were a dozen or so skiffs at the rickety dock. I walked around the end of the canal, across the yard, and into the bar.

  “Hey, Jesse!” Rusty shouted from behind the bar. “Glad you made it. Now I won’t be the oldest.”

  He slid a cold Red Stripe in front of me as I sat down in my usual spot at the far end of the bar. By the wall. Facing the door. It
’s true what they say, old habits die hard. “I’m only two weeks older than you, brother.” I lifted my beer bottle, grinned, and added, “Semper Fi.”

  “There’ll be a few other Jarheads in tonight,” he said. “And a special guest is in town from the mainland.”

  “Who?”

  “Sergeant Livingston just blew into town this afternoon.” He still called Russ Sergeant, even though he’d been promoted to Staff Sergeant, then left the Corps to hunt for treasure. He and I became close friends after Rusty left the Corps and came down here from time to time over the years. We both loved diving and on one dive many years back, we found a whole clump of silver coins. That’s when the bug bit him.

  “Russ is in town?” I asked. “How long’s he staying?”

  “Jesse, you old camel humper!” a familiar voice boomed from the open doorway.

  I got up from my stool and met him half way across the bar. “Who the hell are you calling old, Russ? Damn good to see you. How long’s it been?”

  “Too long, my brother from another mother. Damn, I been here thirty seconds already and nobody’s bought me a beer yet.”

  We sat down at the bar and Rusty put another cold beer in front of Russ and leaned on the bar. “Now, what the hell were you telling me on the phone about your kid being in the Navy?”

  “True as I sit here, Rusty. Graduated Annapolis in ’97 and could have been a Second Lieutenant. Said the Corps wasn’t big enough for both of us and became an Ensign. I gave him his first salute, anyway. He’s a SEAL now.”

  “A SEAL?” I asked.

  “Yep, picked up Lieutenant Commander just last week, too.”

  “From Ensign to Lieutenant Commander in under four years?” How’s that possible?” I asked.

  “Graduated top of his class, commissioned an Ensign, and promoted to Lieutenant JG in less than a month. Picked up Lieutenant a year later. Musta got it from his momma.”

  I raised my beer bottle and said, “To Commander Livingston.”