by Eric Douglas Douglas’ previous stories, including Cayman Cowboys, Flooding Hollywood and Guardian’s Keep are available on his website at, www.booksbyeric.com .

Chapter 3

Jackson eased Daydreamer through the entrance to the commercial marina. As soon as they rounded the sea wall, they saw several Florida Fish and Wildlife boats on the water and police cars on the land. The marina was being raided. “What in the world is going on here?” Sarah said. “Those guys said they wouldn’t come out here without proof and now they’re here in full force.” “Jackson, do you know any of these guys? Can you find out what’s going on?” Mike asked. He had his camera out and was surveying the scene through a long lens. “I guess I should be happy the police are here,” Sarah said with a puzzled look on her face. “Why is it bothering me so much?” “Nothing ever works this easy or this fast. Not in the Keys anyway,” Jackson said, shaking his head with a laugh. “Let me see if I can raise any of these guys on the radio. I know a couple of them.” Jackson moved back to the wheel and picked up the radio microphone. He left Mike and Sarah leaning against the railing. After sliding Daydreamer into an open slip in the marina, Mike decided it was time to see what was going on. He grabbed his T-shirt and jumped out of the boat. “Where do you think you’re going?” Sarah asked. “Going to test my press credentials and see what I can find out,” Mike answered over his shoulder as he walked away. Approaching the knot of police and FWS officers talking on the dock, Mike addressed an officer who appeared to be in charge. “Afternoon, gentlemen. Mike Scott with Time Magazine. I’m working an investigation. Can you give me some details?” Mike asked, seeing if he could get the police to give anything up, without telling them anything. He had flipped his press credentials at them and then held his camera up in front of his face. “I don’t know, Mr.? What did you say your name was again?” one of the officers asked. “And what did you say you were investigating again?” “We’re looking into illegal conch harvesting in the area,” Sarah said, breaking in. She had followed Mike. “Then it does look like we’re on the same investigation,” the officer said. “Mrs?” “Sarah Monet from Ocean Watchers,” Sarah answered. “Can you tell me what you’ve found?” “Well there, little lady, we haven’t found much, to be honest. Not a single conch in the place,” the officer continued, drawling out his answer. “We found some torn-up nets, and that big pile of conch shells on property owned by the marina, but that’s about it.” “That’s pretty circumstantial, don’t you think,” Mike asked. “It’s enough for now,” the officer said posturing for Mike. “We’ve shut down this entire marina and have impounded most of the boats until we figure out who did all that damage. We are going to search this entire place until we find the proof. Shutting this place down for a few days should make someone want to talk. We’re going to make an example of these guys. We want to make sure everyone knows that if they break the law, we’ll make them pay.” After a few more minutes of talking to the police and not getting anywhere, Mike and Sarah returned to Jackson’s boat. Jackson had confirmed the story using his own sources. The three of them were quiet for most of the ride back to the Jackson’s dock. I don’t like it,” Jackson said as he tied Daydreamer off. “I don’t like it one bit.” “Me neither, but I’m not sure I know what to do about it,” Mike agreed. “It feels like a set up to me.” “But what do we do about it?” Sarah asked. “The police are proud of themselves for moving so fast to get rid of environmental offenders. How do we ask them if they’re sure they got it right? And, if it’s a set up, are the cops involved?” “Something tells me were all going to have to gnaw on this one for a while,” Mike said. “You guys want to get some food? Maybe we can work this out while we eat.” The events of the day had brought them close together. They were already acting as if they had been together for years instead of hours. “You two go ahead,” Jackson said. “I have to run by the dive shop for a little bit. I may’ve taken a couple days off, but that doesn’t mean I get to ignore all my responsibilities,” Jackson explained. He had recently become the owner of the dive shop he worked for and was suddenly a lot more responsible than he had expected to be. “We’ll catch up later for a beer,” Mike said and then he turned to Sarah. “I guess that leaves you and me. You want to get a bite to eat? I travel a lot and eat alone a lot. Any chance I get to have some company, I take it.” “Gee thanks, Mike. You make me feel so special,” Sarah said with a wink. “Well, I, um, I didn’t mean,” Mike stammered, not really expecting the flirtatious reply. It made him take a second look at the woman in front of him, all while she shifted gears again. “Sure. Give me an hour or so to take a shower. I’m salty and sweaty. Not exactly conducive to eating and thinking,” Sarah agreed. “Where can you eat around here?” “Truth be told, there’s only one restaurant. It’s right over there, on the other side of the marina. It’s called Duffy’s Diner,” Jackson explained as he grabbed his gear to throw it into his houseboat. “Anything else is a half an hour drive from here.” “All right, Mike, meet you there in an hour,” Sarah said, with a flip of her hair. She shouldered her dive gear and headed up the walkway without a look back. “Sounds good,” Mike said, answering to her back. Then he turned and looked at Jackson with a puzzled look. “Don’t ask me,” Jackson answered the unspoken question. “Looks like you’re in for an interesting evening.” An hour and 15 minutes later, nearly a half hour after Mike had shown up at the little diner, Sarah came walking into the room. She was wearing an orange summer dress with her hair twisted up and held in place with a chopstick. She saw Mike and walked up to the table. “Something wrong?” she asked with a wry smile. “No, not at all. What do you mean?” “Well, you’re sitting there with your mouth open. I just assumed you saw something that made you feel uncomfortable,” she replied. “Oh, um, you look great. That’s all,” Mike said, stumbling to regain his composure. Sarah continued to catch him completely off-guard. It was the rare person who could do that. “So, are you hungry?” They both ordered a beer to go with dinner. They decided to try a local favorite, Key West Sunset Ale, and began to chit-chat about their lives. Once they were finished with dinner, though, the conversation inevitably turned to the other thing on each of their minds. Mike was the first to bring it up. “This whole thing is coming together too easily,” Mike said. “It’s so simple, it doesn’t make sense.” It had gotten hot in the small diner as the bar patrons began replacing the dinner ones. “You want to go outside where it’s a little cooler?” Sarah asked. “Yeah, it’s getting pretty noisy in here. Let’s go for a walk,” Mike agreed as they both stood to go. “So, we all think this thing is too easy. The fishermen would know better than to dump the shells like that. They would hide them. Or they would sell them, but they aren’t stupid enough to dump them right outside of their own marina.” “That pretty much sums it up,” Sarah agreed. “So, let’s think about this a different way,” Mike continued as they walked out onto a dock, just down from the restaurant and then down to the water’s edge. Sarah took her shoes off and walked in the water. “Let’s assume this isn’t about the conch at all. It’s about the fishermen,” he said. “How do you get that?” Sarah asked, listening and watching Mike. “Well, it’s not like conch are exactly dangerous,” Mike said with a laugh. “There aren’t any killer conch that have to be stopped.” “Well, that’s true,” Sarah agreed, laughing. “So, whoever is doing this is doing it to set up the fishermen themselves?” “Exactly,” Mike said. “They’re the ones losing in this mess.” “Any ideas on why?” Sarah asked. She turned to face Mike, not realizing he had walked closer behind her so he could hear her. She turned around right into Mike’s arms. They both stood and stared at each other in the moonlight for a long minute. Neither one knew what to expect next, but neither one seemed to want to move either. “Hi,” Mike said with a smile. “Hi yourself,” Sarah smiled back. “This is kind of nice.” “Not too bad. Is this why you asked me to take a walk?” Sarah asked, her eyes twinkling. “It crossed my mind,” he said. “You know we just met, right?” Sarah asked. “True enough, but sometimes it goes that way,” Mike smiled. “So, where does this go from here?” “Well, we could take this the next step and see…” “God lord, are you going to keep talking about it, or are you going to kiss me?” Without answering Mike leaned in while pulling Sarah close. He was nine inches taller than she was, but it didn’t matter. He felt her body rise into his when they kissed and they melted together. The kiss was slow and gentle at first, tentative, but then it slowly grew more intense. After a minute, they pulled away to breathe. “Wow,” she said under her breath. “I guess you’re right.” “About what?” “Sometimes it goes that way,” Sarah answered. He simply laughed and then asked “Um, what’s that noise?” “What noi… Wait, sounds like a motorcycle to me,” Sarah said after a second. “And it’s close.” They looked around. First they scanned the road above them and then down the beach itself. A dirt bike was coming full speed along the water’s edge toward them. It was coming right at them with its lights off. “I think we need to get out of here,” Mike said as he began pushing Sarah up the beach. “What’s wrong, Mike? What’s going on?” “I don’t know, but this doesn’t look good,” Mike yelled as they began running. As they moved from the sand to the rough pebble beach right above the tide line, Sarah fell twisting her ankle. Mike grabbed her under her arms and pulled her to her feet, moving her out of the way, just as the motorcycle careened by, missing them by inches. Running, with Mike half carrying Sarah, they took off again. The motorcycle turned around, slinging sand as the rider came at them. Mike shoved Sarah toward a pile of chairs on the beach. Intent on chasing them down, the rider nearly hit the chairs as well, but steered clear just in time. It took him a moment to recover his balance and he made his way further down the beach before he turned around to make another pass. “What’s going on, Mike?” Sarah yelled. “I don’t know for sure, but I think someone is trying to send us a message,” Mike answered back. “We’ve got to make it to those steps. Can you run?” “Not very well. You go and get help,” she said. “Leave me here!” “That’s not going to happen, now get up and run,” he barked as he wrapped an arm around her waist and half lifted her off the ground. He took off for a small set of stairs that would lead to the road above and to safety. The motorcyclist had misjudged his path after that last near miss. He was out of position and too far away to stop them from getting to the steps. Halfway up, they turned to see the rider accelerating at full speed up the boat ramp off to their left. The motorcycle was going to get to the top of the steps at the same time they would. Mike and Sarah kept running though, taking the steps two at a time. They didn’t have time to stop and think, but they both hoped they would be able to find an escape route. As they got to the street level with the motorcycle closing in an old truck skidded to a stop in front of them and the passenger door flew open. It was Jackson. The motorcyclist barely controlled the bike and skidded sideways, bouncing off the truck bed, before righting the motorcycle and speeding off. “Would you look at what he did to my truck?” Jackson said with fire in his eyes. “Someone you know?” “Not yet, but I think I’m going to try to get to know him better,” Mike replied, with the same fire. Jackson drove them back to his houseboat. They were all quiet, lost in their thoughts for the moment. “I think our new friend was trying to send us a message,” Mike said after he helped Sarah get settled and got her ankle iced down. “The message came through loud and clear.” “The only question I have at the moment is how we’re going to answer that message?” Jackson asked. “What are you two talking about?” Sarah interrupted from the couch. “You’re not making any sense.” “Tonight, someone was telling us to butt out and stay away,” Mike answered her. “You don’t kill people by chasing them down with a motorcycle. Way too messy. On the other hand, it’s a great way to scare people and tell them to leave.” “OK. That makes sense,” Sarah said. “I’m a scientist. I don’t have a lot of experience with this sort of thing. I’m not used to killer dirt bikes and late-night chases on the beach. What I do know, though, is that it really pisses me off. I don’t want to let them get away with all this, whatever the reason. They’ve torn up coral that will take 50 years to grow back. They needlessly wasted and killed hundreds of protected marine animals. And they scared the bejeesus out of me and made me twist my ankle. I guess I have to ask the same question Jackson asked. How are we going to respond? Are you going to help me stop these guys, or are you going to pack up and run?” Mike stared at Sarah for a minute, simply trying to gauge her. He didn’t need help from someone who was angry and emotional. He needed clear thinking, preferably cold and calculating at this point, because there was no question in his mind that he was going to stop whoever was behind all this. As he stared, a plan began to form in his mind and a smile slowly spread across his face. “I have an idea,” Mike said turning to face Jackson, a devious grin on his face. “We may need a little help though. Anyone around here you can trust?” “There is someone,” Jackson said as he turned around to pick up the phone. “I’ll give him a call.” “Do it,” Mike answered. “Care to clue me in?” Sarah asked. “Think about it a second. This is same idea that was coming to me on the beach before we were interrupted.” “And which idea was that?” Sarah asked with an innocent smile. “Ummm, the other one. Before that one,” he said with a laugh. “Someone is trying to frame the fishermen.” “OK, that makes sense,” Sarah agreed. “They’ve gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like the fishermen are up to something. Why?” “At this point, I have no idea,” Mike said as Jackson hung up the phone. “My buddy is just a couple minutes away. He’s going to be here in a sec. I told him there was some trouble and he’s willing to help. So what do you have in mind?” “As Sarah just said, someone went to a lot of trouble to frame the fishermen. It could be for personal revenge, but this seems different. Doesn’t seem like they are trying to frame one person as much as the whole group.” “OK, that makes sense,” Jackson agreed. “We don’t know the who or the why, but it has something to do with the marina,” Mike continued. “It seems like they want the fishermen out of business.” “I’m following you Mike, but I’m not sure how this gets us anywhere,” Sarah said, growing impatient. “I could be completely wrong about this, but I don’t think so,” he answered. “I have an idea that might just bring the bad guys out of hiding and help us figure out what is going on here.” They all looked up as they heard heavy footsteps coming down the boardwalk leading to the boats. A large silhouette of a man filled the doorway. “Jackson, you in there?” a voice called out. “The cavalry has arrived,” Jackson said with a smile. Randy Littlebear was a federal officer with the Bureau of Indian Affairs — a cop. He worked on the Seminole reservation on the mainland, but he liked to spend his spare time in the Keys, diving and fishing. Littlebear and Jackson met when Littlebear was working undercover to break up a drug smuggling ring. A Navy diver who had served with distinction in the first Gulf war, he was cool and focused. Jackson invited Littlebear in and they began making plans.

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