Page 67 of Secrets in Calusa Cove

She stood, marched herself inside, and slammed the door.

Tears filled her eyes.

Deep in her heart, Calusa Cove—The Everglades—felt like home. When she wandered through town in the dark of night, it brought her a sense of calm. A sense of happiness. Even when she had to suffer the whispers and stares from the townspeople who thought the worst of her, this place still brought her joy.

Her heart was connected to it as if it pumped the blood through her veins. However, the secrets surrounding her father’s death had clogged it, making it impossible for her to stay.

The front door rattled, making her jump. Her damn nerves were fried.

“Lucy, you got some 'splainin' to do,” Dawson said in some stupid accent as he stepped through the door. He closed it, unclipped his gun, removed the magazine of bullets, and placed it in the lockbox like he had the night before.

“You’re not funny.” She let out a big puff of air. She’d spent her entire life acting as though she wasn’t afraid of anything—or anyone.

But the truth was—she was terrified of her own shadow. A murderer was loose and might make her his next target.

“And it’s not like I meant to open my mouth with Benson,” she said, “but he pushed my buttons.”

“Not sure what you’re talking about, but I’ll take your word for it because he’s a jerk.” He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers as if they were a couple. “Sorry, I’m late.” He held up a bag. “I brought home a couple of salads. My heartburn couldn’t handle more fried foods. I didn’t want to cook, and I figured neither did you.”

They’d known each other going on four days. She shouldn’t be staying in his home, but where else would she stay? With Trinity? Baily? No. That meant he’d put someone like Remy or, worse, one of his buddies on them as a bodyguard. She wouldn’t do that to her friends.

He set the food on the counter and pulled her close.

When she tried to squirm away, he held her tighter. “Sweetheart, don’t let him get to you. He’s not worth it.” He palmed her cheek. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “Just remember I’m a safe space to land.”

She’d never met anyone like Dawson before. At least not someone who treated her as if she were a normal human with real feelings. “I’m tired.” She swiped at her face, unable to hide the emotion. “I didn’t kill my dad. I didn’t come back here to cause trouble, and that rattlesnake wasn’t a message or a warning. Someone wants me dead. I might as well do what I do best and disappear.”

Dawson took a step back and raked his fingers through his hair. “I can’t let you do that. Before you start arguing with me, it’s not because I think you’re guilty of anything or that I’m worried about what this town will believe if you do.”

“Then why?”

He pulled out his cell phone. “Hayes may have found something today.” He held up an image. “Can’t tell much from this snapshot, but he believes there’s something on Coonts Island. Something that wasn’t there a few months ago, and we’ve all been back there.”

“Way up Loon River? That’s a hike from here and hard to navigate during low tide, even hard for some airboats.” She took his phone and zoomed in on what appeared to be a roof hidden in the trees. “Not to mention some locals won’t go back there because that’s where the ghost of Edgar Watson settled.”

“Our airboats can navigate Loon River during low tide, no problem.” Dawson nodded. “But I figure if we leave at high tide, which is at five in the morning, we could be back over by Hog Island by seven. We’ll just say we got an early start.” Dawson didn’t acknowledge Captain Watson or the many stories that surrounded him.

Missing boats. Planes that had disappeared.

The Ghost Ship of the Everglades had been haunting South Florida for as long as anyone could remember, and if a human dared to go back to Captain Watson’s home—especially at night—beware. Of course, it was just a story, and how could a pirate ship not only make it back this far but be kept hidden for hundreds of years?

However, locals respected the area because too many strange things happened there.

Of course, half the town believed she was a swamp monster—an Owl Witch. So, there was that.

“You seriously want to go there before sunrise?” she asked. “Hasn’t anyone told you about Edgar Watson?”

“I know all about him and every single story behind his pirate ship.” Dawson arched a brow. “I also know your dad told those ghost tales every chance he got. Please tell me you don’t believe them.”

“It’s not that I think they’re real, but I feel the same way about that section of the Everglades as I do about the Bermuda Triangle. Not sure it’s real, but I don’t particularly want to fly over it or float into it.”

“I’m a retired Navy SEAL. I’ve been through the Bermuda Triangle more than once. I’ve spent much of my career at sea. I know all about legends and pirates. I’m not afraid, and I need to investigate this. You’re welcome to come with me. Your choice.”

She glanced between him and the cell phone. Her hands trembled. A tear dribbled down her cheek. “You’d do that for me?”

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