"I thought it might be a good idea if she and Jasper made sure nothing was damaged or stolen from inside the house," Dawson said.
"Good idea." Sterling stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I really appreciate you coming out here, tonight."
"Anytime." Dawson glanced back at the boards. "Crime scene unit's on its way from the state police. They'll process the porch, probably half the yard. It’ll take a few hours."
"She shouldn't stay here."
"I suggested she stay with you," Dawson said. "Told her to pack a bag. But there's also room at Harvey's, and Audra can have a room made up in a jiff if you'd rather she go there."
"No. My place is fine."
"That's what I figured." Dawson looped his fingers in his belt. "I think you should know something about our friend Anthony."
"The burglar from the Crab Shack?"
Dawson glanced over his shoulder as Juniper and Jasper stepped through the front door. "According to Anthony, he wasn't going for the till. He claims a man hired him. Paid him ten grand, cash, to walk in and put on a show—wave the gun around. And get this. He was told to get arrested. That this same man would post bail."
"Seriously?" Sterling had heard a lot of things in his life, but this was a new one.
"Well, no one showed to post bail, so Anthony started talking."
"And the ten thousand?"
"Sitting in his account. He showed me the receipts." Dawson shrugged. "That's all I've got. No name. No description worth a damn. No idea what 'a show' was supposed to accomplish. But I don't like it. Not with people like Royce hanging around town making Cullen nervous, and now, a baited gator."
"Yeah, there’s some weird shit happening."
"You can say that again." He waved his hand toward the house. "Jasper will stay until state gets here. I've got to head home. Call if you need me."
"Thanks, man."
"Anytime."
Sterling stood there and watched Dawson climb into his vehicle and drive off.
The crunch of footsteps on crushed shell caught his attention. "Hey you." He turned. "Everything okay inside?"
"Nothing was touched." She stood next to him with a small backpack slung over her shoulder.
"We need to talk," he said. "So, you might as well crash at my place."
"Agreed, and thanks."
He took her bag, which was a lot heavier than it looked, and placed it in the backseat of his truck. It would take all of five minutes to drive down the road to his place, eight minutes if they hit the two lights. The Crab Shack and the Marina were both dark at this hour. Most people had turned their outside lights off and had gone to bed.
Calusa Cove wasn't a town that stayed up late. But it rose before the sun.
Sterling had the distinct impression that this might be a long night. He hoped it would still be a good one. Though he suspected the conversation might be difficult. But if what he believed to be true actually was, she was only doing her job. He couldn't fault her for that.
"It's so dark," she said. "Even with the moon and stars."
"But it's a beautiful view." He pulled the truck under the carport, reached over the seat and snagged her bag. "Come on." He couldn't believe his luck when this place had gone on the market. It cost him more than he wanted to spend, and Buddy thought he was nuts, but it was worth every penny to sit on his deck at night with a glass of whiskey and listen to the water gently lap at the shoreline.
He let her in ahead of him and didn't turn on the overhead, just the lamp by the couch, then went to pour two bourbons because his hands needed the work. He brought hers over and stopped a step closer than the handoff required because no matter what, he still cared about her and that wouldn't change. "So," he said. "From your roof, with those cameras, you've got a clean line right into my front room." He handed her the glass. "How else have you been watching me?"
"It's not like that."
"No? Because from where I'm standing you just took the drink and didn't tell me I'm wrong."
