Page 96 of Smitten with the Single Dad

“Guy has hearing aids. So if he’s asleep, he probably won’t hear us,” Bennett added.

They reached Leon’s place, choosing to park Clint’s truck on the side of the road, and hoof it down the long driveway. The Quonset hut at the back of the property was a lightweight, prefabricated structure of corrugated, galvanized steel with a semi-circular cross-section. It looked like an airplane hangar in a lot of ways.

They were light on their feet, sticking to the grass so as to not stir up the gravel or have it crunch under their shoes. Their military background came in handy more than they thought it would living on the island.

Clint was in the front because, even though this was Wyatt’s mission, Clint always assumed the leader role since he was the oldest brother and all that shit. Wyatt wasn’t in the mood to argue so he just acquiesced and followed along. Admittedly, Clint was the planner of all of them anyway. He could see angles and obstacles in a situation before the rest of them. So it made good sense to let him take the helm of this mission.

They crept along the far side of the Quonset hut, as far away from Leon’s house as they could in case the octogenarian had any motion sensor cameras, or lights, or anything.

Clint peered around the front end of the hut into the interior. Then hung his head back. “Light.”

Wyatt passed the small flashlight up to his brother and Clint shone it into the hut.

“All clear,” Clint said. “Nothing but a ride ‘em lawn mower, Leon’s old Cadillac, and a bunch of crab traps. Thing’s pretty empty, to be honest.”

Wyatt stepped forward so he could see in as well, not that he didn’t believe his brother, but he just needed his own visible proof. “Does it look like there’s space where another vehicle could have parked recently?”

Clint shook his head, keeping his voice to a whisper. “Not really.” He shone the light to the gravel floor of the hut. “You’d be able to tell if the gravel had been disturbed by the kicking up of rocks. And I don’t see any of that. And we all know Leon drives his junky, old, red Toyota truck everywhere. That thing will outlive him. So, the gravel even under the Cadillac is undisturbed. Plus, there’s not really room. It’s that not that big of a hut.”

“We need to keep moving,” Bennett whispered.

They nodded in agreement and let Bennett lead the way back to the truck. Then they were on to the next house.

“The cod and halibut fisherman?” Bennett asked when Wyatt told Clint to drive to Dorian Jazz’s place. “What does he have against you, or Vica?”

“It’s not necessarily anything againstus. It’s what they’re willing to do, and how much they’re willing to compromise their morals and integrity for money,” Wyatt said. “Wyndham Croft could have put out a freaking bounty on Vica’s head and sent it out to islanders who might be struggling financially. And I happen to know that halibut fishing has been really bad this year. Cod, snapper, and other white fish are doing okay, but Dorian is really struggling to bring in the big halibut. So maybe he’s got some debts he can’t pay, and Wyndham came along with a solution to his problem.”

“I feel like we’re just throwing spaghetti at a wall at this point,” Bennett said.

“Don’t let Vica hear you talk about wasting spaghetti,” Wyatt murmured.

Bennett and Clint both chuckled.

They reached Dorian Jazz’s house, which didn’t have as long of a driveway. It also had an even larger Quonset hut, which made sense considering Dorian had at least three boats.

But there was no gray sedan parked in there either.

“Another noodle falls to the ground,” Clint said as they climbed back into the truck. “You’re not planning to hit all the houses tonight, are you?”

“Over the next few nights, I will. You can come or not. But someone on this island has been provided with enough motivation to try to take out Vica—and they got desperate enough that they nearly killed my children too.”

“Once we find out who it is, we’re handing that information over to the cops though. Right?” Clint asked. “I’m not doing vigilante shit. This is as far as I go when I go rogue.”

“Says the man who ran after Brooke and the woman who tried to kill her, and attacked the woman on the edge of a cliff.” Bennett snorted.

“I’ve turned over a new leaf. A softer, gentler leaf. No more dangerous shit.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes, and he was dead certain Bennett was doing the same.

They pulled up to the next house, which belonged to Bryce McLoughlin. He owned the other pub on the island—The Thatch Pub—and was also currently renting out one of his RVs to Justine who spent some nights there rather than with Bennett. They were doing a gradual move-in since things with them started fast and intense.

“Bryce?” Bennett asked, still a skeptic. “What the hell would he have to gain from taking out Vica?”

“I happen to know Bryce is going through a nasty divorce with Yulia, and maybe he needs the cash. Or wants money off the books that she can’t come after.” Wyatt opened up the back door. “Everybody has a skeleton. Let’s go see if we can find Bryce’s.”

They weren’t on the property long, or close enough to Bryce’s garage, before the big, baritone bark of Scoundrel—Bryce’s German Shephard—echoed through the night. All three of them paused mid-stride.

“Anybody know if Scoundrel is an outside dog?” Clint asked.

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