Lost Gems

Book 4: Shark Key Adventures

by Chris Niles

Genres: Action & Adventure; Sea Adventures; Thrillers

Synopsis

The hunt is on.

When a young mother disappears from Shark Key without a trace, Kate and her friends must answer one question: what’s she running from? But after a Colombian cartel targets her six-year-old son, her dark secrets come tumbling down around him, and Kate must risk everything to protect the boy and unravel the woman’s web of lies.

This edge-of-your-seat adventure will lead Kate from Boca to Bogota, dragging her deep into an underbelly of the Caribbean few visitors ever see. And she’ll have to call on some unexpected allies in order to make it out alive.

Fans of Travis McGee or Sam & Remi Fargo will love Kate Kingsbury and the crew at Shark Key Campground and Marina.

This fresh, page-turning adventure thriller set in the Florida Keys will blow you away. Get Book 4 in this action-packed series today!

Release date: January 21, 2021

Print pages: 416

Sample

Prologue

The old woman’s knees creaked as she lowered herself onto the stool beside her basket. On the packed dirt floor beside her, her young grandson sorted pieces of fabric from a pile, laying them out in front of him like pieces of a puzzle.

“Abuela, tell me the story.”

She smiled. The boy’s mother never had any interest in the old stories. She’d only been interested in running to town, walking through the shops, and talking to the boys.

This little one had heard the story more times than the woman could count. But he was a good helper, and someday he would go to work under the mountain. It was good for him to know. So, as she lifted a piece into her lap and began to stitch it together, she began the story for him the same way it always began.

“In the days before the conquerors arrived, our people made their home in these mountains. Many generations lived and died here. They farmed here. They hunted here. Other groups lived nearby, and sometimes they fought here.

“But before they were here, there was only Aré, the Creator.”

Rain tapped on the tin roof above her. Buckets and bowls—anything that could catch water—were hung all around the ramshackle room to catch leaks where the roof had rusted away to nothing. If the product was damaged, there’d be hell to pay.

“One day, as Aré walked alone through this valley, he came upon a stand of reeds by the water’s edge. He took one of the reeds, long and slender, and from it he crafted the most beautiful woman in all the world—the first woman. Her hair was long and thick and black as the night sky, and her skin was smooth and brown. And her voice.”

The old woman closed her eyes and leaned back for just a moment, hearing the musical sound in her imagination, before she resumed.

“Her voice was soft and warm and she sang more beautifully than the birds and more soothing than the waterfall. And he named the woman Fura.”

She glanced up from her work. Women perched on similar stools around the perimeter. A long wooden table covered with rolls and scraps of fabric dominated the center of the room. Two bare light bulbs dangled above it.

“Aré set her by the river and she began to explore, her light filling the valley with love and joy. While she explored, Aré took another reed from the water. This time he chose a thick, sturdy stalk. And from it, he made a man. A strong and handsome man with sharp eyes and a silent step. He named the man Tena, and he gave Tena a sturdy spear that would never grow dull.

“He gave Fura and Tena this valley to rule as their own, the slopes and the fields and the river running through its center. He told them to plant in the fields and to hunt the animals. And above all, he told them to be true to each other.

“Then Aré ascended beyond the top of the mountain where he could admire all that he had created.”

The abuela poked her needle through the hem of her skirt, then lifted the limp pile of soft cloth and began to shove bits of thick white stuffing into the crevices. Its form began to emerge, identical to the ones growing in various stages around the room.

She continued her story. “Fura and Tena lived a very long time in this valley. And unlike you and me, little one, they never grew old. Tena’s muscles never grew soft or weak. Fura’s hair remained shiny and black.

“Until one day, while Tena was hunting along the western slope, a stranger appeared along the bank of the river. Fura had never seen such a man, with skin the color of the stars and hair yellow like a stalk of grass during the dry season.

“But it wasn’t these things that were her downfall, no. It was his eyes. The color of the morning sky, and sparkling like the water in the mid-day sun.”

She chose a long, narrow stick with its end carved into a flattened paddle, then wrapped clumps of stuffing around the end and pushed them deep into the long limbs of the creature coming to life in her hands. While she talked, she began to stuff its body, cramming more and more of the white fluff through the open seam along its side.

“Now Tena had been good to Fura. They had lived together in harmony for more moons than Fura could count. But this man, whose name was Zarbi, when she looked at him, she felt a warmth in her middle like nothing she’d ever felt before. It felt like sitting beside a fire on a cold night, and it felt like the wings of a bird taking off into the wind, and it felt like the glittering stars and the shimmering river.

“Fura knew that Tena would be away. She remembered the Creator’s warning, but she reasoned that he must have created this feeling inside her, and so she went to Zarbi and she took his hand.

“But Tena returned early from his hunting trip.”

“Uh-oh.” The little boy looked up at her, entranced.

“You are right, little one. Uh-oh.”

She looked down at the animal in her lap. It was nearly full. The abuela pulled open a tiny drawer hidden in the seat of her stool, and from the drawer, she pulled a small, heavy bundle of white cloth.

She carefully tucked the bundle deep into the fluffy stuffing, packed in tightly, then filled the void so the animal was firm.

“Tena was angry and chased Zarbi away with his spear, then he called upon Aré to pass judgment on this woman who had betrayed him. And Aré did. But he passed judgment on them both. On Fura for her infidelity, and on Tena for neglecting his bride. Because women need to be loved and cherished and respected, little one. You remember that when you grow up.”

She chose a sturdy needle and a length of thick brown floss, then handed it to her grandson to thread—his eyes saw small details far better than hers in this dim light.

While he prepared the tool, she shuffled to the table where a tall pile of white labels printed in English sat in a small box. She reached beneath the box and chose a label, identical except for its dark green background.

She returned to her stool and took the needle from the boy.

“What happened next, Abuela?”

As she stitched the label to the cloth, closing the gap in the toy, she told him how the story ended.

“Aré punished them both by allowing them to grow old. Their bones grew brittle and their hair turned gray. As Fura cried for the loss of her beauty and her love, her tears fell into the river then sank to the bottom of the lake. Finally, the mountain absorbed them into itself to hold her sorrow forever.

“And when they died, Aré lifted them up, one on each side of the river, there” — she pointed out the filthy, rain-streaked window toward the twin mountain peaks that rose on each shore of the river through their valley — “and there, to remind us all of their mistakes.”

 

Chapter 1

Kate Kingsbury wiped a bead of sweat from her temple.

A purple bicycle wobbled toward her across the thin gravel. Her arms hovered in the air, spread wide as if she could hold up the bike with sheer willpower. Colton Dawson perched on the seat and clutched the handlebars, his knuckles white. His stare bored through Kate to the white concrete laundry building just beyond the little lane’s curve behind her. A lean, muscular man with sandy blonde hair ran alongside the bike, bent at the waist, his fingers outstretched where the seat had just abandoned them.

“Keep pedaling. You’ve got it, Colton,” Tony Bowden shouted. “Keep go— Whiskey, NO!”

Whiskey, Kate’s seventy-five-pound German Shepherd, raced out from behind a seagrape hedge and drew up beside the boy, tearing his focus toward the ground. In an instant, Kate, the dog, the bike, and the boy became a tangled pile of limbs and metal and grease and dust.

Kate pulled herself from the bottom of the pile, then helped Colton brush the tiny flecks of crushed coral from his dark, curly hair. The boy’s grin stretched the width of his face.

“Did you see that, Miss Kate? I made it all the way past Tony’s house!”

All three of them turned toward a gutted 1973 Airstream Excella, its various parts strewn across his campsite, as Tony’s laugh drifted across the island. “The word house might be a little strong for what that is, Bud. But you made it farther than you ever have. I think you’ve almost got it. Wanna go again?”

Kate smiled at how even his laugh seemed twinged with a soft Louisiana accent.

Tony hiked the small bike up on his shoulder, then the two raced down the lane to their starting point near the south end of the narrow lagoon that split Shark Key Campground and Marina into two distinct sides.

Chuck Miller, the campground’s owner, had recently ordered truckloads of fresh crushed coral for the mile-long lane that stretched north from the gate at the Overseas Highway all the way to the small parking lot at the marina and restaurant that spanned the north tip of the island. Tony had carefully raked a long stretch of the lane down to its hard base and agreed to teach Colton to ride before the thick bed of gravel arrived.

Colton and his mother had been staying at Shark Key for a year. He had just turned nine, but he was small for his age. Not knowing how to ride a bike was one of the many things that made him a target for the town bullies. And neither Kate nor Tony tolerated bullies.

As Tony helped Colton balance on the seat near their starting line, Kate’s pocket vibrated. She glanced at the screen.

Get him inside.

“Tony!” Kate shouted down the lane.

Tony’s head swiveled across the narrow island. On their side of its shore, a row of empty campsites, broken only by Tony’s Airstream and an empty fifth-wheel trailer beside it, stretched along the east coast of the island. The lagoon blocked their path to the few sites along the west, including the camper where Colton and his mother Jodi were staying.

“My place. Go.” Tony pointed to his site as Kate grabbed the little boy’s hand and ran. Lifting the bike by the crossbar, Tony raced to a break in the seagrape hedge lining the shore and tucked it deep into the thick green leaves.

Kate jerked the Excella’s door open then swept Colton inside. Whiskey whooshed in, then Kate locked the sturdy aluminum door behind them.

“Here.” She brushed a pile of sawdust from the plywood frame that would someday become a couch, then spread a towel across it. “Stay—”

“Down. I know, Miss Kate,” the boy whispered as he lay flat on the towel and Whiskey took up a position in front of him. Kate glanced out the window as the nose of a sparkling black pickup crept around the curve in the lane.

A mini-fridge sat beside the exposed wheel-well, plugged into a bright orange extension cord that ran past a neatly made air mattress lying on the plywood subfloor at the back of the camper then out the cracked rear window. Kate opened it, pulled out two bottles of water, then handed one to Colton.

She slowly raised her head to peer through the front wraparound window. Tony stood in the center of the lane, his arms relaxed at his sides, but with a concentrated hardness in his eyes. The truck idled, the Confederate flag on its front bumper just a few feet short of his legs.

As he slowly lifted his right arm, pointing back toward the entrance to the campground, a rickety green-and-white golf cart rolled up behind him. Chuck Miller drew to a stop, blocking the truck’s path forward.

Kate set her bottle on top of the little fridge. “Colton, stay here and stay down, okay?”

“Don’t worry, Miss Kate. I know.”

“Whiskey, stay. Guard.”

The dog straightened his stance, pointed directly at the door. Kate crossed the patchy Bermuda grass, then strode past the cart onto the grassy slope leading to the lagoon, flashing a glance at the older man. Chuck pushed out of the cart then started up the lane.

“Just turn around and leave, man.” Tony slowly eased toward the open driver’s window. “We don’t want trouble.”

“Trouble?” the man slurred. “Only trouble is keeping me ’way from my boy and my bitch wife. Fathers got rights, too.” He flung the truck’s door open. “Where’s she?”

Tony bolted toward the truck, while Kate and Chuck planted themselves along the lane, ready to run.

The man twisted to climb out of the truck, but jerked back into his seat as the safety belt caught his hip. “Dammit.” He swatted at the latch until it snapped loose, his arm and shoulder still tangled around the shoulder strap.

Chuck stepped forward, his voice steady and low. “Corey, this is my property, and I need you to leave.”

Corey wrangled his arm loose from the seat belt and planted his feet on the truck’s polished chrome running board. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere ’til you tell me which one o’ these cans the bitch lives in now.” His arm flailed toward the campers across the lagoon.

“Last warning. You need to get back in the truck and drive on outta here.” Tony’s casual drawl carefully hid the threat contained within.

“Or what?” Corey jumped to the ground, stumbling and stretching his arms out to his sides for balance. He lurched at Tony.

Tony stepped to his left. He caught Corey’s outstretched wrist then wrenched it up between the man’s shoulder blades.

Tony shoved Corey against the truck bed. He snarled in his ear. “Or I’ll—”

“How about you just go, Corey?” Kate approached the truck. “It’s three against one.”

“Where is she?” He glared over his shoulder at Kate. Without thinking, her eyes flicked toward Tony’s Airstream. In a flash, the sturdy man shoved off the truck, throwing Tony off balance, then ran toward the shining trailer. Chuck scrambled into his path, but Corey dropped his shoulder and plowed through the older man.

As Tony picked himself up from the sand, Kate sprinted after Corey. She sailed past Chuck and launched herself onto his back, wrapping her arm around his neck and her legs around his thighs. She jerked to her left, and the two of them toppled to the ground, arms and legs flailing, Kate pinned beneath the massive redneck.

Tony raced into the fray. He landed a right hook to Corey’s jaw, then yanked him by the arm and threw him to his belly as Kate extricated herself from the pile. She rubbed her shoulder.

Wild barks and growls burst from the inside of the camper.

“Whiskey, down.” Kate shouted. But when the barking continued, she stomped over to the camper, grabbed a leash hanging inside the door, then led him out to the lane.

“Sit.”

The dog obeyed, his gaze on Tony and the intruder unwavering. The air quieted until the hum of Tony’s air conditioner and Corey’s panting were the only sounds remaining. Then came the crunch of tires on gravel followed by an earsplitting siren burst.

Tony knelt near the top of the man’s back, grasping his wrists together as the sheriff’s deputy approached, Chuck at his side.

“You all okay up in here?” The deputy’s eyes flicked toward the Airstream.

Kate nodded. “Yeah, everyone’s safe, but this guy refused Chuck’s request to leave the property, and then he got a little aggressive.”

The deputy crouched down and peered into Corey’s eyes. “If he lets you up, you gonna be reasonable?”

A muffled “uh-huh” fought through the sand and gravel under Corey’s face.

The deputy nodded to Tony. Tony released his thick wrists and backed away.

Corey sat in the grass, panting and rubbing the various joints that had been twisted in unnatural directions. He looked up at the deputy. “I just want my kid.”

The deputy pressed his lips together and shook his head. “We’ve been through this. The judge said no. You know I gotta bring you in.”

“Public easement, man. You ain’t got nothin’ll stick, and you know it. Trespassing, maybe, but I’d be out by sunset then I’d come for your badge. Now, her.” Corey pointed at Kate. “I could give you a whole list of violations you could bring her in for. Starting with that menace.”

Whiskey held the man’s gaze, the fur on his neck rising and a low growl humming in his throat. The deputy winked at the dog, then turned back to the interloper.

“Corey, we go way back. We both know you learned to game the system early. Hell, everyone on the island knows it.” The deputy waved vaguely back toward the highway. “You win this one. Go. But one day, you’re gonna make a mistake. And I’ll be there. You can count on it.”

“Not today.” Colton’s father turned to Chuck. “As for you, this ain’t over. I know you’ve been helping her hide my boy. You’re probably screwing her, too. You should be ashamed. You’re old enough to be her grandfather.”

Chuck lunged. Tony caught him and held him back.

“Enough, Corey. Your boy isn’t here, and you’re not welcome. Go.”

Corey climbed back up into the truck. He spit onto the ground, then turned the vehicle around and gunned the engine, spinning a cloud of crushed coral at the group before his tires grabbed the hard surface and the truck lurched forward toward the highway.

Kate drew three deep breaths. When her hands stopped shaking, she ran to Tony’s camper and brought Colton out to see the deputy.

The boy reached out his hand. “Thank you.”

The deputy crouched to the boy’s level and shook his hand. “My pleasure, Colton.” He rose then walked back to his car. As he opened the door, Kate caught up with him.

“Thanks for running him off. If he’d have seen the kid, this wouldn’t have gone so well.”

The deputy’s eyes flared. “I’ll settle in at the end of the lane for the rest of my shift, but I doubt he’ll be back today. We need to get him on something that will stick. I meant what I said. One of these days, he’s gonna mess up. They all do.”

“I hope it’s soon. Jodi and the kid can’t take much more of this. It’s getting harder to keep her from running.”

His jaw tightened. “I get it. If I was her, I’d be tempted, too. But that’d bring the wrath of the Dixie Kings down on her.”

“Who would have thought there’d be gangs in the Keys?”

“There’s a lot here the tourists never see. And we need to keep it that way. This little war gets publicity, the visitors stop coming and our economy drops in the crapper. All we got’s tourism and fishing, and there ain’t enough fish in the sea to support everyone who rolls down here hiding from something.” He winked at Kate while he climbed into his car.

Kate crossed the lane, then dropped into a frayed lawn chair under a palm tree.

Tony retrieved the bike. As he carried it back to the road, he beckoned to Colton. “Wanna try again, bud?”

The kid dropped his eyes. “Maybe later. I don’t really feel like playing anymore.”

“But you almost had it. C’mon. Let’s give it another try.” Tony coaxed Colton up and the boy shuffled across the grass to the bike, Whiskey trailing behind them. Kate and Chuck watched as Tony steadied Colton on the bike.

“How much longer can we keep this up, Chuck?”

He looked up, the rims of his eyes red. “As long as we have to. That family doesn’t stand a chance without us. They barely have one with us.”

The two sat, and the air filled with the sound of water lapping against the rocky shoreline and salty breeze rustling in the palm fronds above them.

Chuck finally pushed himself up from his lawn chair. “I think it’s time to put in a gate.”

 

Chapter 2

The ancient air conditioning unit droned high in the corner of the long, concrete-block room. Kate flopped in a folding chair then propped her feet on the counter separating the camp store from Chuck’s office area. Behind the counter, Chuck’s ancient desk sat beneath a bank of jalousie windows, cranked tight against the sweltering July heat. Piles of paperwork lay in dusty plastic stacking trays, and the ever-present aroma of mildew was only barely covered by the oil diffuser Babette had placed in the middle of the counter.

Kara Alvaro flitted from shelf to shelf around the tiny store — as much as a six-foot-two, two hundred forty-five pound drag queen in four-inch platform heels could flit — moving items around on the shelves.

“Graham crackers. Marshmallows. Chocolate bars. Together, Charles. Together.”

Without turning his attention from the pile of invoices in front of him, Chuck grunted.

“Girl, don’t waste your time. He’s just gonna move it all back. I’ve been after him for years now.” Kate kicked her feet off the counter then crossed the ancient linoleum to hug her landlord and friend.

Chuck finally looked up. “Chocolate goes with candy. Marshmallows go with baking stuff. Graham crackers go with snacks.”

“And mustard goes with toilet paper?” Kara held the disparate items up and waved them high above the shelves.

Chuck laughed. “Mustard goes with hot dogs, and hot dogs would go with toilet paper. Except they’re in the cooler. Leave an old man alone!”

“Old man my left—”

“You’re not even sixty yet, Chuck.” Kate interrupted before Kara could finish her colorful thought. “And you certainly held your own with Corey out there, so don’t go playing the old card today.”

Kara slumped. “That bastard try to come for Colton again?”

“Yup.” Chuck shrugged. “I don’t know how long Jodi can hold out. I been moving them every week or so around the empty campers… pretty much every time he shows up, she moves again. Colton thinks it’s high adventure, but Jodi just wants to settle down and be done with it.”

“Doesn’t she have a restraining order?”

“She does. But even though this is private property, because the restaurant is open to the public, he’s claiming he’s just going up there. Long as he stays on the easement, ain’t much they can do. He’s trash, but he’s not dumb trash. Her lawyer is doing the best he can for pro bono, but without a paycheck, there’s only so much he’ll do.”

Kara slammed a ketchup bottle onto the shelf. “That’s just not…”

“I know. Back in the old days when Gramps was running this place, you could run a guy off and be done with him. He used to tell me stories. I know we’ve made progress and a lot of things are better now, but dang if it don’t make it harder in some ways too.”

“Truth.” Kara bobbed her head. “You get that foster license yet?”

“Yeah. Finished the last class a couple weeks ago. Hope I never need it, but with this guy, you never know. He thinks he has rights. A right to own her. A right to own the boy. He ain’t a father, he’s just a sperm donor.” Chuck shoved his chair back and spun toward the wide plate glass window along the shop’s front wall.

An older gray Lexus with a spot of rust on the wheel well rolled to a stop just past the office door. The driver, a short white woman with long blonde hair, slid out of the front seat, then opened the door behind her. A red-headed kid climbed down to the crushed coral drive then burst through the office door, dragging a big stuffed sloth by one leg.

“Mom! They got drinks! C’n I get a juice?”

“Hang on buddy.” The woman’s tired voice drifted in on the hot, muggy breeze. “Let me get inside.”

She staggered in then pushed the door shut behind her, wiping the sweat from her temple as she planted herself in front of the AC. Her face tilted up into the cold stream of air, and she heaved a long sigh. Finally, she turned and leaned against the counter.

Chuck pushed himself out of his chair. “What can I help you with today?”

The little boy stood in the corner with his face pressed against the glass of the cooler. His mother drew in another breath, looked around the office, then leaned forward.

“I’m looking for a safe place to…” Her gaze flitted around the office again. “You know what, um… Nevermind—”

“Mom. They have chocolate milk!”

She whirled toward her son. “Milk? When it’s this hot outside?”

“Yeah, but we’re inside. Please mom?”

The woman sighed. “I suppose. Okay.” She turned back to Chuck then rummaged in her purse. “How much for the milk?”

“Nothin. Don’t worry ’bout it. It’s good for his bones. Now, about what you’re really here for?”

The woman’s eyes flared.

“It’s okay. Look, I’ve known my share of folks who needed to stay out of sight for any number of reasons. And those reasons aren’t any of my business unless the law is lookin’ for you. So that’s my only question. Is the law looking for you?”

The woman shook her head, her gaze hopping around the room. “No. Not the police—”

The little bell above the door jingled, and the woman whirled as Michelle Jenkins entered the shop, then pulled up short as the little boy bolted across her path toward his mother, nearly tripping Michelle with the stuffed animal. She crouched down.

“Hi there, bud. I’m Michelle.”

The boy turned around. “I’m Eddie—”

His mother grabbed his arm and pulled him against her. “We’re just passing through.” Then she bent down to the boy, her whisper urgent. “What did I tell you about strangers?”

Eddie, oblivious, turned to Michelle. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers. But your name’s Michelle. You’re not a stranger anymore.” Michelle laughed as he whirled to the huge woman standing between the shelves and extended his stuffed sloth’s hand with his own. “I’m Eddie. And this is Slothie. You’re huge. What’s your name?”

Kara grinned and crouched down. “My name is Kara. And yes. I’m really big for a woman. Most people aren’t brave enough to mention it.” She reached out and wrapped his little hand in her huge one, shaking it, then winking at him.

As Michelle drifted toward the shop’s front window, tapping her phone’s screen, Kate sidled up beside Chuck at the counter. “Ma’am, I came here about three years ago looking for a place where I could find a little peace. Things didn’t work out exactly the way I expected… they worked out better. If you’re looking for a safe place where you won’t be found for a little while, you’ve found your spot.”

Chuck flipped through a little box and pulled out a tattered index card. “I’ve got a fifth-wheel on a shaded lot that’s empty and could use a little love.” He snatched a two-way radio from its charger against the wall. “Justin. Justin. Chuck.”

The little box crackled. “Yeah, I’m here… Whatcha need, boss?”

Chuck smiled. “Can you go kick the AC on in Number 43 on the east lane? I got a guest comin’ down in a few minutes.”

“Sure thing, boss. Done.”

Chuck planted the radio back on its charger and pulled out a registration form, its triplicate pages bound at the top. “Now, I’m guessing you don’t want to leave too many tracks here?”

While the woman shook her head and pulled a long, flat wallet from her bag, Kate glanced past her shoulder to Michelle. Her friend glanced up at the car parked outside, slowly swiped her finger up the screen, then looked up. She met Kate’s glance, then nodded.

Kate nudged Chuck, and Michelle repeated the nod.

Chuck grabbed a ball-point pen and returned to the form. “So, Mary Smith, right?” He winked and filled out the rest of the form as the woman began to count twenties onto the counter.

“I think maybe a week should be all we need. Will that be okay?”

“It’s summer and things are slow. We’ve got the Christmas in July boat parade coming up, but we never have overnighters for that. You and Eddie can stay as long as you need, Mary.” Chuck winked, pulled a key ring off a hook with the number 43, then passed it across the counter to the woman. “Restaurant is up on the deck around the corner. In the summer, we open for breakfast somewhere between seven and eight. Babette is always around, but you might have to poke your nose into the kitchen if you don’t see her. As long as you’re here, you’re family, so feel free to explore, wander around anywhere on the island. Just keep an eye on Eddie there until he knows what’s where. This place is a wonderland for kids. I grew up here on the island myself. There’s loads of little coves and rocks along the shoreline to catch fish or just get your feet wet. Does he know how to swim? Maybe we can—”

“Chuck, take a breath and let the poor woman answer!” Kate shoved his arm.

“Hey, watch it. That’s my bum shoulder. You know, the one you got me into fighting that nut job out on Mallory Key?”

“Me? I was just following a treasure map.” She winked at Eddie. “You know, there’s buried treasure all around these islands. Maybe if you stay long enough, we can take you and your mom out on one of the boats and look for some?”

The boy tugged his mom’s shirt. “Can we, Mom? Can we?”

The woman’s nose twitched. “We’ll see.”

Kate softened her eyes, and nodded at the newcomer. “It’s okay. Take your time. Just know that the offer stands. Most of us around here work a few different jobs, but we’ve got flexible schedules and we’d love to take you guys out and show you a little of the side of Key West most visitors don’t get to see. There are so many quiet, off-the-map places around here, I think you’d love it.”

The woman’s cheek ticked up in a tired smile. “That sounds kinda nice. Maybe.” She pulled the key from the counter and took Eddie’s hand.

“Forty-three. Take a left at the fork, and it’s the cream-colored fifth-wheel just after the Airstream. And just so you know, the guy that’s refitting that Airstream will make sure you stay safe. Whenever you’re ready, just tell him what he needs to be watching out for, okay?”

“Okay. And… thank you.” She pulled the glass door open and the bell above it jingled weakly. After a short pause, she turned back to the little cluster of friends standing by the counter. “By the way, my name’s Shelby.”

Then she nudged the little boy back to the car. They crept down the lane leaving a low cloud of dust in their wake.