Fallen Out: Jesse McDermitt Series, The Beginning (11 page)

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.

I
n 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 women 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.

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 10
th
, 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 10
th
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.”

We clinked the necks of our beers together. I hadn’t seen Russ’s son since he was little. It was good to hear that he was making his own way in life
and doing so well.

“So, how long are you down here for?” I asked.

“Just a few days. Got a lead on a wreck I’ve been researching.”

“Spanish galleon?” Rusty asked.

“No, actually a Civil War wreck. Meeting a guy tomorrow that’s supposed to be related to someone that was on board when she sank. Probably won’t get anywhere, but I figured I could schmooze the guy a little and drop in and see you guys.”

“Have enough time to go diving?” I asked.

“Rusty told me you had a dive boat,” Russ replied. “Yeah, we can blow some bubbles. You in, Rusty?”

“
Can’t,” Rusty replied as Jimmy and Angie walked toward us from the front door of the bar. “Julie’s visiting a friend on Long Key this weekend.”

“Just the two of us then
?” he asked turning back to me. “Tomorrow?”

As Jimmy and Angie
reached the bar, I said, “Russ, meet my First Mate, Jimmy Saunders and his girlfriend, Angie Trent.” They shook hands and I added, “Russ and I served together in the eighties. Do we have anything on the books for tomorrow, Jimmy?”

“No, man. Nothing til
l Tuesday.”

“Great,” I said. “Russ and I are go
nna dive Conrad tomorrow.”

“Take your bags, man, that reef’s loaded with bugs. Nice to meet ya, Russ.” The two went over to a table and joined another young couple.

“That the best you can do for a Mate down here?” Russ asked. “I could smell the ganja when he walked in.”

“Jimmy’s alright,” I said. “He knows boats and the water better than anyone else around here
. Works hard, never complains, and doesn’t bring it on the boat. We’ll go out tomorrow afternoon. I have a compressor on board, so we can make an afternoon dive, eat supper aboard, then a night dive. You remember Conrad?”

He laughed and said, “Yeah, I sure do. That was one crazy fun day.” Then he got melancholy and added, “Too bad the news we got that night ruined it.”

Russ and I found that little patch reef man years ago. We’d just returned from a tour in Lebanon as part of a multinational peace keeping force and came down to visit Rusty. It was late October, 1983 and when we got back to shore, we learned of the terrorist bombing at the Marine barracks in Beirut.

We talked a while longer, as the bar filled up. Rusty introduced us to a few other Marines from
all over the Keys. Having lived here all his life, he probably knew everyone up and down the island chain. One was a retired Sergeant Major, by the name of Kevin Landeros, who owned a diving school up in Key Largo. He looked to be in his early 60’s, which I confirmed when I noticed a Vietnam Vet tattoo on his forearm.

Always looking for more contacts in the business, I bought him a beer and invited him to a table.
He and I took one in the corner and exchanged the usual questions. When did you retire? Where were you stationed? Did you ever know so and so? As it turned out, we knew someone in common. A range coach I served with in ’98, just before I retired. A crusty old Master Gunnery Sergeant by the name of Owen ‘Tank’ Tankersley.

“I served with Tank in
the latter part of Vietnam,” Kevin said. “Any idea where he might have retired to? Be good to see him again.”

“Still active duty as far as I know,” I replied. “
I was a Scout/Sniper Instructor with 2
nd
Force Recon in ’97 and ’98. He was a Range Coach then. I think the Corps just ran out of billets to put him in.”

“Active duty? He’s got to be
close to 30 years,” he said, meaning that Tank was near thirty years in the Corps.

“Normally, the Corps would retire a man at 30,” I said. “Unless he had a shot at becoming Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps. But, with that little blue ribbon on the top of his rack, there’s no way they’d do it. Good PR to have an active duty Medal of Honor recipient. I think he’s the only one.”

“Only one I know of,” Kevin said. “Rusty said you have a charter boat down here.”

“Yeah, just bought it last year and doing pretty good. My First Mate is something of a computer
and photography guru and we specialize in photography charters.”

“Good idea carving out a niche
. Separates you from every other Bubba that comes down here and tries to start a business. What kinda boat?”

“It’s a
Rampage 45
,” I replied. “We do some fishing charters, too. But, I prefer the divers.”

“That’s quite a boat. Get my address from Rusty and ship me a box of flyers. One of my instructors teaches an advanced underwater photography course. Might be able to send some customers your way.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll do that and you do the same. The photographers seem to be the better clients. Always mindful not to damage my equipment.”

“That’s
because they have pretty expensive stuff, too. Some of the equipment my Instructor has will set you back more than a new Cadillac.”

Russ joined us and we discussed the dive we had planned and how many lobster we might get.
Then Rusty rang the old ship’s bell behind the bar and the back door opened. Two men wheeled a cart in with a large cake and an NCO sword on it. The cake was adorned with the Marine emblem.

Kevin being the oldest Marine in attendance joined a young man I hadn’t met yet, who couldn’t have been more than
twenty-five. It turned out, he was an active duty Marine, home on leave. The two of them performed the cake cutting ritual that marks birthday celebrations all over the world on this particular day. After each man used the NCO sword to cut a slice, he presented it to the other. Then one of the guys that wheeled it in took over and served the rest, including all those in attendance that weren’t Marines.

It was a lot of fun and the evening passed quickly. I told Kevin I’d get some flyers up to him, or maybe deliver them myself, as I wanted to check out his school. Then I slipped out quietly and made my way back to
Dockside
and my boat. I grabbed a couple of beers from the refrigerator in the galley and went up to the bridge to catch the end of
Dockside Folly
.