Swimming with the Sharks Read online

  Swimming With the Sharks

  Coastal Justice Book 10

  Mark Stone

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  The End

  Prologue

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 1

  Boomer’s hand flew out in front of me quickly as he snatched the fly ball right out of my grasp. He chuckled loudly as he retracted his glove, looking at me and shaking his head. Balancing a beer and a hot dog in his non-gloved hand (which was really a feat, if you ask me), he muttered, “Gotta be quicker than that, Storm.”

  A chuckle burst from my lips as I watched my friend tip the beer in his hand back and funnel it into his mouth. Even though he’d just stolen a game ball from me, and even though he lightly chastised me about it, it was good to see him having fun. As the Collier County Chief of Police, my friend could usually be found hunched over a stack of papers at his desk or shoveling a sandwich into his face while burning the midnight oil. Naples could be a dangerous place, and that meant the people who kept the peace were never really off the clock. Take his wife and daughters into consideration, and I didn’t know how the guy ever got a minute to breathe. That was an issue that had been creeping up more and more to the forefront of my mind ever since I found out that my own wife was going to have a baby three months ago.

  Of course, today wasn’t a time to think about that kind of thing. Today was the rarest of occasions, a day when both Boomer and I were off of work, a day when we had enough free time to hang out and do one of the most quintessential guys things this side of fishing and playing pool.

  “I love baseball,” Boomer said, setting his beer down and diving into his hot dog. “I mean, I love a lot of things, but baseball has got to be one of my favorites.” Wiping mustard from his lip, my friend sat down on the plastic green seat and stared out at the field. I joined him.

  The game was almost over, which was fine by me. While I was definitely a fan, I didn’t hold the same love of America’s pastime that Boomer always had. The games were long and more than a little boring. If I wanted a sleepy day, I’d grab a fishing pole and go out on the lake, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate the diamond and the talented men who played on it. In fact, one of those talented men was exactly why we were there today.

  “You must be pretty proud,” I said, looking up at the scoreboard which read that the Naples Sharks were leading the Tampa Tornados by a score of seven to three heading into the bottom of the ninth. If the Sharks could hold off a grand slam, the home team would be in for a win. And Boomer had a bigger stake in that than just hometown pride. “Hector’s doing a hell of a job too,” I said, smiling wide and looking deeper into the statistics displayed on the scoreboard. “Holding the other team to only two hits the entire game. He’s definitely a great pitcher.”

  “Great is an overstatement,” Boomer said, setting the remainder of the hot dog on his lap and holding his hands out in front of him in order to emphasize what he was about to say. “He could be great, and with any luck, he will be. But that’ll take hard work, time, and dedication. Don’t forget we’re only at AA ball right now. The majors are a long way off.”

  “Not as long as you might think,” I said, pointing to the scouts that Hector told Boomer had been showing up at any games he pitched lately. “Especially if he keeps showing off in front of those guys like he has been.” I shook my head. “I bet you never imagined when you were playing catch with your godson all those years ago, that he’d grow up to be one of the hottest prospects in baseball.”

  “Don’t jinx it!” Boomer said, shaking his head hard at me and looking away. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

  I laughed hard again. In all my years of knowing Boomer, which was all my years, I had never known him to be the superstitious sort. He was always a pragmatist, the kind of even keeled man who people said had a good head on his shoulders. It was the oddest thing, though. You get him around sports of any kind, and he was rubbing rabbits’ feet and plucking at four leaf clovers. It was the craziest thing in the world to me, and that inclination only grew now that his godson Hector was part of the game.

  “You’re being ridiculous, but I think you know that already,” I said, propping my feet up on the back of the empty seat in front of me and crossing my arms over my chest.

  “I already know a lot of things, but that doesn’t mean I can stop any of them,” Boomer replied. “I know it’s stupid. I just want so damn much for the kid. That’s all. You know how much he’s been through. He deserves something good for once.”

  I watched a mixture of pride, concern, and deep commitment fill my best friend’s eyes. I knew how much Hector meant to him. I always had. The son of a girl Boomer used to go out with in high school, he and Hector’s mom stayed in touch even after they broke up, after she got married and moved up to Georgia, and after she got divorced and moved back home to Naples with Hector in tow. He always had a special place in his heart for that boy, and because of that, not only did Hector’s mother pick Boomer to be the boy’s godfather, but Boomer’s own children thought of Hector as something of a cousin to them.

  “He got something good,” I said, giving my friend a pat on the back and keeping my eyes firmly planted on the field. “He got a damn good godfather.” Nodding, I continued. “But I know what you mean. Ever since Rebecca found out that we’re going to have a baby, I can’t stop thinking about all the things I want for the little bugger. I haven’t even met them yet, and I already want them to have the whole world on a string. And I’m as nervous as a house fly in autumn all the time and I have no idea why.” As Boomer chuckled knowingly, I smiled at him. “And you’ve got two of them. I swear, I don’t think I ‘ve been giving you enough credit all these years. I don’t know how you’ve been able to juggle all of it.”

  “The same way everybody does,” Boomer said. “With great difficulty, but you will get it done. Just like the rest of us, you probably won’t think you will, but it’ll come.” As Boomer spoke, the sound of a distraught grunt reverberated throughout the field. It was accompanied by a growing roar in the crowd. My head whipping to the source of the noise, I saw Hector standing there, his hands in the air as he’d just struck out the last batter of the night. The Sharks had won, and much of it was because of Hector.

  “Would you look at that?” Boomer asked, grinning from ear to ear.”Sure is a good night to be a baseball fan.” He leaned forward, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting in the direction of the scouts who had come to watch Hector play. “That’s my godson!”

  An hour or so later, I found myself waiting in the mostly empty parking lot outside the ballfield. All the fans had already left and the away team, licking their wounds over their loss, already piled into their bus and drove away. That only left the Sharks and the stadium custodians still inside. As we watched the hometeam filter out into the parking lot, Hector among the, I knew I was in for some expert level bragging on Boomer’s part.

  “There’s the MVP!” my friend said, walking toward Hector and the others with
his hands in the air as though he’d had anything to do with winning the game himself. “You boys are good,” he continued as we settled in front of the team. “But you got nothing on my godson here.”

  “Would you stop it, Uncle Boomer?” Hector asked, smiling as he shook his head and turned back to his teammates. There was a look of pride in the young man’s eyes, and something told me it had less to do with his numerous accomplishments on the field and more to do with having someone actually waiting for him outside to brag on him about them. As a kid who grew up without a dad in his life, I knew that desire pretty well. It was a yearning that pulled at you, and even after having it filled with time, accomplishments, and relationships of your own, it never really went away.

  “I sure as hell won’t,” Boomer said, beaming with enough pride to put the lights that still burned bright in the parking lot to shame. “You’re the best damn player Collier County has ever seen, and I’m not about to let anybody forget that.”

  “Doesn’t say much for the rest of us, does it?” a tall, thin boy with white blond hair said, smiling as he stood beside Hector. He extended his hand toward Boomer. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”

  “Of course I do,” Boomer said. “You’re the shortstop.”

  The tall boy chuckled loudly. ‘Not just the shortstop, but yeah,” he said. “I’m also Wes Tillman. Jake Tilman’s son.”

  Boomer’s eyes went wide and his jaw basically drug the parking lot. “You’re joking!” he said, his voice a near gasp. “You’re little Wesely? Lord in heaven. How long has it been?”

  “Since Dad died?” Wes asked, hurt flashing noticeably through his eyes. “Almost twenty two years now.”

  Boomer leaned back, his hand grappling for the car as he leaned against it. “Twenty two years?. Are you serious?”

  “Afraid so,” Wes said, nodding firmly. “I was a baby then, and look at me now. Time flies when you’re too young to remember any of it happening, I guess.”

  Boomer looked down at the pavement, taking a beat and trying to catch his breath. I knew, without him having to say anything, that this boy and the identity of his father hit him right where he lived. Whatever was going through his mind right now was enough to send him spiraling.

  “I’m Dillon Storm,” I said, extending my hand to Wes and shaking it in an attempt to break through what was happening. “It’s nice to meet you. You seemed very talented out there today as well. You all did,” I said, looking at the others. “You’ll have to forgive Boomer here. He’s a little bias.”

  “To be expected,” Wes said.

  “We were actually planning on surprising Hector with dinner at his favorite seafood joint,” I said, looking back at Boomer, who still hadn’t really composed himself. “You all are very welcome to come if you want.”

  “You’re going to regret that,” Wes said slapping me playfully on the shoulder. “Ball players have big appetites.”

  “I think we’ll survive,” I said, smiling myself and looking to Hector. “Why don’t you meet us there. We’ll be right over.”

  As they walked away, I turned my attention to my friend. “Boom. What the hell is going on? Who was that kid?”

  “He’s the son of my first partner,” Boomer said. “And his dad is dead because of me.”

  Chapter 2

  “Boomer, what are you talking about?” I asked, my eyes wide and my arms crossing over my chest. I had known my best friend for my entire life, at least, the parts of it that mattered. He told me everything. I knew when he’d gotten his first kiss. I knew when he was planning on proposing to his wife. He even told be that time he had to have a questionable mole checks on his back. But, of all the things Boomer Anderson had told me, he had somehow left this part out. “You had a partner who died?”

  Boomer, his eyes still planted firmly on the concrete parking lot, seemed to crinkle into himself, like the memory he was evoking now was so heavy that it had begun to crush him. “It was a long time ago,” he said solemnly.

  “Twenty Two years, apparently,” I said, remembering what Wes had said. “You never told me.”

  “It’s not something I like to talk about,” he answered. “Not the best memory I’ve got, you know?”

  “I can imagine,” I answered, stepping closer to him.

  “I’m not sure you can,” Boomer said. “He was more than my partner. Jake Tillman was my friend. Back then, when you were gone, he was my best friend.” Boomer shook his head. “It would be like losing you, you know?”

  A vice grip seemed to tighten around my heart. The idea of either Boomer or I losing each other was something I had entertained, of course. As a police officer, you put yourself in the line of fire everyday. It’s your duty. It’s the job. Still, ever knowing all of this never made the idea of having to wake up to a horrible phone call in the middle of the night any easier to swallow. It was one of my worst fears, and the fact that Boomer had experience with something similar to it broke my heart.

  ‘I do,” I answered quickly. ‘I mean, I obviously don’t know it in the same way that you do, but I get what you’re saying and I’m really sorry that happened.”

  “Yeah,” Boomer said, nodding firmly. ‘So am I. He was a good man, and Wes wasn’t much more than a baby when it happened.”

  “What was it, Boom? What happened to him all those years ago?” I asked, my heart filling with hurt for my friend.

  “Something I’d rather not revisit,” my friend said. “Needless to say, I made a mistake, and a good man lost his life because of it. A woman lost her husband, and a son lost his father.” He shook his head. “I tried to go to his wife afterward, actually. I tried to apologize and try to make things right, but she was gone. She just left that little boy, tossed him into foster care like he didn’t matter. He got adopted, but it wasn’t the same. I would have said sorry to him. I would have tried to make it right, but what was the use? There are some things that no amount of ‘I’m sorry’ can fix. There are things you can’t set right, no matter how hard you try. I might have done right by Hector. I might have given him a helping hand when he needed one, but I did the opposite for Wes. I took his future away from him, and there’s nothing I can do to change that.”

  “Maybe not,” I answered, sure that whatever my friend did wasn’t intentional and probably not as destructive as he was saying. I was sure something horrible happened to Wes’ father all those years ago, but I really doubted Boomer was as responsible as he thought he was. He was a good man, and he laid a lot on his shoulders that didn’t belong there. “But ever if you hold yourself responsible, that boy doesn’t seem to. That tells me that his wife, even if she wasn’t ready to talk to you after it happened, doesn’t hold you responsible either. I’m not trying to dig up old wounds, and I would never want to unearth something that you want to keep buried. So, if you tell me to shut my mouth about something, I’ll certainly do that. But you shouldn’t carry some burden that isn’t yours.”

  “And if it is? Then what do I do?” Boomer asked. “I’m not some kid, Dil. I know what you’re trying to do, and I know you think it’s for the best. I don’t hold myself to impossible standards, though, and I don’t rewrite history, even when it would be in my best interest to do so.” He shook his head firmly. “I know what happened that night,I know what part I played in it, and no amount of well-meaning speeches can change that. So, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna head home.”

  “Home?” I asked, my eyebrows knitting toward. “But we literally just told hector and the others that we’d meet them for dinner.”

  “So do that,” Boomer said.

  “He’s not my godson, Boom,” I answered. “I’m not the one he wants there.”

  “I get that,” Boomer said. “And please apologize to him for me, but I just can’t do this tonight. I can’t look in that boy’s face, a face that looks for all the world like his father’s, and pretend that I’m okay. Maybe on another day, but not tonight.” He took a step forward and patted my shoulder. “Tonight, afte
r a gut punch like that, all I want to do is remember my friend and feel sorry for myself.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. Handing it to me, he muttered, “But make sure that dinner is on me. It’s the least I can do.”

  And, with that, my friend walked away.

  “You don’t want to do that, Son,” I said, staring at Wes from across the table as he pushed another drink in my direction. He’d been trying to keep up with me all night, and regardless of how many different ways I phrased it, I just couldn’t convince him that it was a bad idea. “I’ll tell you one more time, trying to drink me under the table is a losing proposition. I’ve got about fifteen more years of tolerance built up for the stuff than you do. It’s just not fair.”

  Wes shook his head and grinned. “Would you look at that? The dude actually found a reason for me to want to get old.”

  I chuckled and bristled at the same time. “I’m not sure ‘old’ is the word I’d use, but thanks, I guess.”

  “You’re cool, dude,” Wes said, slamming another shot of tequila and shaking his head. “I hope I’m that cool when I get...not old.”

  “There we go,” I said, grinning at the man. I shot the waiter a look meant to let him know there would be no more drinks around the table tonight, regardless of how many minor league baseball players asked for them. He nodded, telling me he understood, and then scurried off. It wasn’t that I wasn’t enjoying myself. In fact, to say I was having a bad time would be to completely miscategorize things. These kids were fun and they seemed to like me a lot. I was having a hell of a time with them. I had no desire to be responsible for a handful of young guys too drunk to take care of themselves, though. So, to that end, I decided it was time to cut them off.