No Good Deed... Part II

[Robbie C.]

Sonny was still grinning like a kid when he pulled the Daytona into his usual parking spot at the marina. “Man! I’d forgotten how much fun it is to drive with the top down.”

“Not me.” Jenny smiled as she pulled her t-shirt back on. She’d taken both it and the bikini top off just after they’d left Pete’s restaurant. “Driving or sailing is always more fun with the top down.”

“You’re just lucky the old guy in the Caddy didn’t run into that light pole back on the Intercoastal.” Sonny started down the dock toward Tranquility. It felt good to be going home.

“That’s probably the most fun he’s had in years.” She giggled and ran ahead of him. “I’ll get ready to cast off.”

Smiling, he let her go. He liked watching her run, and he also knew she’d get the boat ready faster than he could. Jenny was a natural on the water, like she’d been born to it and only came on shore when she needed more beer. He couldn’t think of any place more natural for them to live than on Tranquility.

For most of his undercover life he’d lived at least part time on a 42 foot sailboat. The St. Vitus Dance was now one of the therapy tools available to Caitlin’s House, along with Jenny’s Vellamo. Now they called the renovated 60-foot, two masted Tranquility home. Once owned by a smuggler rival of Jenny’s, she’d redone most of the interior and turned it into the most comfortable refuge Sonny could imagine.

She’d already cast off the side lines by the time he was aboard and was in the process of starting the diesel auxiliary engine. “We’ll move out under power,” she said as the engine coughed to life. “Then I’ll unfurl the sails.” She tugged at her t-shirt. “And other things.”

He shrugged off his jacket. “Need a hand?”

“Not yet. Why don’t you go below and get some drinks ready?” She slipped behind the polished brass wheel, spinning it slightly as Tranquility eased away from the dock.

It was cool below decks, and Sonny headed through the salon to the starboard side berth Jenny had converted into what she called the ‘Memory Room.’ The mahogany walls were covered with framed pictures from both their pasts, and a comfortable sideboard couch let you sit and take it all in. Pictures of her in a prom dress shared space with a photo from his wedding to Caitlin, yet she made it all seem so natural. She’d never been jealous of Cait, and encouraged him to remember her. “She made you the man I love,” she said more times than he could count. “How could I not love her?”

There were also pictures from Vietnam, him and Robbie Cann trying to look like brave Marines for the camera but coming off as scared boys away from home for the first time. Some of her in the Islands during her career smuggling art, often working on Vellamo with the same care she showered on their new home. And right in the middle of it all was a picture of the entire Task Force, including Brick’s high-risk warrant team and Pete Washington. Robbie was there, too, since the photo was taken in his club. Their last party as an official unit.

Sighing he turned and headed back through the salon to the galley. Going into the Memory Room was one of his little rituals when he came back to the boat. A thing to remind him of where he’d come from and what had happened along the way. He could hear the waves slapping against the hull and feel the boat rise slightly with the sea as she guided Tranquility away from the shelter of the marina and into the open ocean. Soon, he knew, she’d cut the motor and unfurl the main sail. Running against the onshore breeze to put some distance between them and Miami.

Pulling bottles from the rack above the sink, he felt a smile slipping onto his face. He was happy. And he’d been happy for going on two years. Actually, if he was honest with himself, he’d been happy longer than that. It started when he came back to Miami with Rico and picked up the badge again, joining the then-new Task Force. But it really took hold when a slightly bedraggled blonde in a thin white t-shirt had walked down the dock to the St. Vitus Dance and shared a six-pack of beer with him.

Their seagoing drink was orange juice and rum, a combination of the Islands and Florida that appealed to her sense of humor. But it was good on the rocks, and Sonny could nurse one for as long as it stayed cold. Still, he made it in a larger pitcher…some nights Jenny had more than one or two. He’d cut back, even more since he left the force, but there were nights he traded drinks with her out on the water. We both have our demons he thought as he stirred the rum into the orange juice with a long glass rod. Some days more than others.

The shore was a distant memory by the time he got back on deck. She’d cut the engine and switched over to the main sail. He could hear the canvas crack as it caught the wind and ropes groan as she shifted the rigging to pull them away from land. With everything set, she’d also tossed her shirt aside, and she smiled at him from the settee next to the polished wheel. “It’s about time you got up here. I was getting thirsty.”

“I’d say keep your shirt on, but it’s too late for that.” Grinning, he handed her a full glass and sank into the cushions beside her, making sure the pitcher was secure on the railed table. “And no, I ain’t complaining.”

“Good.” She snuggled up against him, taking a sip of her drink and sighing. “I’ve got the course plotted so we can swing back in and tie up at the house later. Or in the morning.”

“I like the sound of morning.” He slipped his arm around her, feeling her hair drape across his skin. “But I gotta admit it was good seeing Pete again.”

“Yes. He’s happy now. And so are Martin and Trudy. It’s good to see everyone happy.”

“Yeah.” He sipped his drink, feeling the bite of the rum on his tongue. “It really is.” The routine was comforting. They’d have a drink or two, haul in some of the sails while he made dinner and they ate below, then raise sail again and go until the night took them fully in its embrace. Then they’d drop sail and make love topside before going below. If anyone had told him five years ago this is what his life would look like now, he would have told them they were crazy. Or worse. Hell, even three years ago. He looked over at Jenny, her slim body highlighted by the setting sun as she watched the waves. And if anyone told me I’d love someone as much as I loved Cait I would have shot them. But here we are.

 

The flight had been long, and now Gordon Wiggins waited with the rest of the swine from his flight around the carousel waiting for his bag to clatter out of whatever hell the airline had consigned it to. At least I won’t have to smell that cow’s perfume any more he thought, looking across the room at the big woman with bad hair and a stained Disney World t-shirt waiting with her equally-horrid family.

Bag finally in hand, he headed for the exit and flagged down one of the line of cabs waiting in their queue. “The Hilton,” he muttered to the driver and slumped in the back seat next to his lone bag. First he’d get comfortable and then start looking for the reason he’d come to Miami in the first place.

He’d picked the Hilton for the simple reason he knew what he’d get from the moment he walked into the lobby until he was settled in his room and opened the mini-fridge and looked for a drink. Predictable. And enough luxury to let him forget about the Club Fed he’d called home for the last few years, even for a moment. Tossing his bag on the room’s queen-size bed, he plucked a small bottle of scotch from the fridge and made himself a drink while he looked out the big bay window at a city he’d always despised. But there was no helping it. He couldn’t do what he needed to do from Los Angeles or even New York City.

The phone book on the room’s desk was missing pages were previous occupants had torn them out, but he found what he was looking for in the ‘Lawyers’ section. Running a finger down the thin yellow paper he stopped at the name and grinned, taking another drink. “You sly old dog. I figured you’d still be in the game,” he muttered, his words almost lost in the newscast blaring from the big television. It was too late to call today, but he knew what he’d be doing in the morning.

By the time the room service waiter arrived with his steak dinner, he’d unpacked his bag and had a second drink. He ate in front of the window, sneering at the splashes of neon popping up like dandelions as the city switched from day to night. Still, the view wasn’t bad considering no bars blocked his view.

He’d started on his third hotel room bottle when the late local news came on, leading off with a story about some feel-good charity for wayward girls. Wiggins snorted, and was about to change the channel when the plastic blonde reading the news said the name. “Caitlin’s House was recognized…” His hand froze on the remote until the story ended.

“So that’s what the place turned into.” He’d changed over to some old Western with Randolf Scott beating hell out of a bad guy, but the story stuck in his head. “I wonder if her widower is still involved. Surprised he didn’t trade the dump for a case of that swill he used to drink.” Maybe tomorrow’s call would be easier than he thought. Now he had a target.

 

Even though it wasn’t quite light out, Stanly Switek had been up for an hour or so. Coffee bubbled its way through the coffee maker, and he checked the bacon frying in the pan before giving it a final turn and fishing the strips out to drain on folded paper towels on top of old newspaper. His mother may not have done much to protect him from his father, but she’d done her best to teach Stan how to cook. He was the first to admit not much of it had stuck except for bacon and coffee.

Buttering toast, he stacked slices on two plates, bracketing them with bacon and scrambled eggs mixed with salsa from the night before. Gina was still asleep on the second floor of their tidy town house. It was a hell of a change from their walk-up apartment, and Stan was the first to admit Sonny Crockett had made it possible when he’d hired Gina away from victim services and then put him and Lester on contracted retainer for Caitlin’s House security. The bedroom had a view of the ocean if you squinted hard enough, but what he really liked was its isolation from the kitchen. He could surprise Gina with breakfast in bed, something he couldn’t do in any of their apartments.

Breakfast had been an afterthought. Pouring coffee, he let his mind float back to his real reason for being up. He and Lester had been working on new ways to check for electronic surveillance devices, and he’d been tinkering with a unit in the first floor bedroom that had become his home workshop. They were close to a breakthrough, and any time that happened Stan found himself sleeping less as ideas kept popping into his head.

Sunlight streamed through the slatted blinds covering the bedroom’s balcony door, and he set the tray down on his side of the bed before leaning over and kissing Gina on the forehead. “It’s not fried peanut butter banana sandwiches, but I brought you breakfast.”

She blinked up at him, still working sleep from her eyes and mind. “And it’s a good thing it’s not, Stanley Switek. I’d hate to throw a perfectly good meal at you. What time is it?”

“About ten seconds before your alarm goes off.” Stan grinned as the beeping started. “Ok, maybe later than that.”

“And I’ve got the quarterly review this morning.” She stretched, letting the sheets fall away from her body.

“I can see a quarter I’d like to review right now.” He grinned and shifted the tray. “But you’d better eat if you want to get in on time. Those dog and pony shows always take longer than you think.”

“Tell me about it.” She took a sip of coffee and smiled. “At least Sonny and Jenny aren’t big on the formal parts. But you can’t slip a thing past Jenny and Angie.”

“Yeah. I remember the story you told me about that one counselor who tried.” Stan chuckled and picked a slice of bacon from the tray.

She nodded. “And I felt you get up earlier. How’s that project coming?”

“I tired not to wake you up.” He reached over and ran a finger along her cheek. “Sorry about that. But you know how it is when I get an idea… Anyhow, it’s almost done, I think. Lester and I will run some tests later at the shop, but it’s almost there.”

“I won’t ask because I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She smiled. “But it’s good it’s almost done. I know that silly thing’s been giving the two of you fits for weeks.”

“Yeah. And it’s the kind of thing Lar might have been able to crack in a couple of days. He had this way with that kind of stuff.” Stan shook his head. “But then again maybe not. Lester’s really good with the passive stuff and he couldn’t crack it right away.” In the last couple of years he’d really come to appreciate his partner’s expertise with surveillance gear, especially on the electronics theory side. Stan was an ace at assembly and packaging, but he knew he came up short on the theory side. Lester, on the other hand, was damned good. Better than Larry Zito had been. And Stan, the new Stan, was man enough to admit it.

Chewing his bacon, nodding from time to time as Gina talked about what she was going to present at the meeting, Stan took stock. Usually when he was joking around with Lester he’d talk about the old Stan and the new Stan, but in many ways it was true. Back with OCB he’d been bitter, especially after Larry was murdered, and then his gambling spun out of control. Most days it was like a bad dream…one he’d taken years to wake up from.

Then they’d gotten on the Task Force and everything changed. Especially Sonny. If someone had told him before he’d enjoy working with Sonny Crockett he would have laughed in their face. But Sonny’s time away from OCB had changed him, and Stan had grown enough to admit that. And there’d also been Gina…

The thought of her drew him out of his own thoughts and back to the room. She was still talking about the presentation between bites of eggs and bacon. They’d both changed in the year Sonny and Rico had been gone. She’d left OCB for a post with Victims’ Services, and moved in with him not long after. Their love had come out of nowhere, even though looking back Stan could see it had been taking root for years. Not unlike Trudy and Castillo’s, but different in its own way. Gina had carried a torch for Crockett, and Stan had always imagined her out of reach. But that had started to change when Caitlin was murdered and Sonny went to pieces.

And now here they were. Married, with jobs neither one of them would have considered possible four years ago. With lives they wouldn’t have considered possible. Without tasting it he took a drink of coffee and finished his eggs.

“You haven’t heard a word I said!”

“Uh…I gotta be honest. No. I was thinking about how lucky we are. How amazing all this is.”

“I know.” She touched his arm. “I think about that every day.”

“Yeah. I get caught up in stuff an’ don’t think maybe as much as I should about that.” He took her hand in his and kissed it. “But I heard enough of what you said. You really think they’ll be able to expand next year?”

“I do. Fundraising has been good. You wouldn’t believe the prices some of Trudy’s paintings get! And Mindy’s been able to tap into some sources we couldn’t really touch before. Boston money. And Jenny said she’d match some contributions with money from her trust fund.” She sat up in bed, the covers falling completely away. Stan almost choked on a bite of toast when he saw her body. “If we can get the addition done we can start treating boys.”

“Good. God knows they need help, too.” He felt his cheeks get warm when she saw him staring and smiled. “I’ll get the tray cleaned up and then maybe we can get you showered.”

She smiled and touched him. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

 

Sonny passed through security at Caitlin’s House without a hitch, insisting the guards check his concealed carry permit even though they knew him personally. They did the same with Jenny. “No one gets a break,” he told every guard as soon as Rico finished their orientation. “Not me, not your mother, not Rico’s mother. No one. Check us all like it’s our first time through. Every time. That’s how we keep these girls safe and help them recover.” After he’d fired one for not taking it seriously, a former State Trooper no less, the rest decided Sonny meant business.

After he’d been cleared, things relaxed. Some of them he knew from his time with Metro-Dade, others from the Marshal’s Task Force. Most had been with the House since it opened, and shared his commitment to its success.

Jenny slipped her arm around his waist, her figure shown to advantage in a slight white cotton dress. “Are you ready for an hour of numbers?”

“No. Never am.” He pulled off his sunglasses and slipped them into the pocket of his white linen blazer. “But I know they gotta add up for us to get this where it needs to go, so here I am.” He looked down at her and smiled. “Did the accountants finish the audit of the estate?”

“About a week ago. Angie’s still looking through it and then she’ll give it to me.” Jenny’s blue eyes went hard. “I think we’ll end up suing those bastards. It sounds like they took more of Caitlin’s money than they should have.”

Sonny felt a stab of anger shoot through his body. “If they did, I’ll close them down for good. Is that why the audit took so long?”

“Angie said yes. She said they went back years. Before…” Jenny’s voice trailed off. “Before you were married.”

“Good. I didn’t know she’d had them that long.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “And anything we get from them goes back into the House.”

Angie hadn’t changed a bit since the first time he’d laid eyes on her. She still squeezed herself into animal print dresses and wore heels about an inch higher than was considered safe or advisable. And she was still one of the most formidable people he’d ever met. Man or woman. “Blondie! Little Blondie! Angie didn’t expect you so early.”

Jenny laughed and hugged the bigger woman. “Don’t be silly, Angie. I told you we’d be early.”

“Yeah, but Blondie don’t move so good in the morning.” Angie looked over Jenny’s head at Sonny and winked. “Least he didn’t used to.”

“I haven’t had a hangover in over a year, Angie.” He winked back. “And I ain’t that old yet.”

“I’m proud of him.” Jenny smiled and then changed the subject. Sonny was used to her conversational jumps by now. “How do the numbers look?”

“Little Blondie don’t have to worry none about that. And the report’s ready about that other business. I expect Blondie’s gonna be fit to be tied when he reads it. Angie sure as hell is.”

Jenny nodded. “We’ll talk about that after this. But now I want to know about fundraising…”

Sonny just tagged along behind, letting them talk their weird numbers language while he took in the changes still going on around him. The house he and Caitlin had shared ever so briefly was unrecognizable now, the big entryway given over to the security post and reception desk barring entry to the rest of the building. One wing was given over entirely to secure rooms for the girls, another to classrooms and therapy rooms, and a small medical clinic rounded out the first floor. Administration was on the expanded second floor, along with more security and offices for key staff. They’d connected the guest house with a corridor last year, adding more therapy locations and a second, smaller housing unit.

As they climbed the stairs to the conference room, he still had the ability to wonder at it all. What started as a simple conversation had grown into this, and it was poised to keep going. The box set of Caitlin’s music they released last year had been a hit, with the profits going back into Caitlin’s House and the surviving members of her band. Sonny had even endowed a music scholarship in the name of Will, her murdered bass player. After failing so miserably to protect her from Hackman, it was the least he could do.

“You don’t have to beat yourself up, you know. She forgives you.”

“What?” He stopped and looked up at Jenny standing at the top of the stairs.

“She forgives you. She always has. And she loves all this.” Then she turned and continued on with Angie as if she’d never said a word.

How the hell does she do that? She’d been doing things like that almost from the moment they’d met, and he’d long ago told himself to stop trying to figure it out. But every time she did, he still tried to puzzle it out. And each time he’d come up empty. Smiling, he remembered what Rico had told him when she first blew into his life. Just roll with it, partner. Yeah. Easier said than done sometimes.

Gina sat near the head of the table, talking with Gary Towers, the former DA Sonny had retained as the lawyer for Caitlin’s House and the estate after he’d fired the old team. She looked up and smiled when they came in. “We’ll start in a couple of minutes. Mindy was finishing something downstairs and the architects aren’t here yet.”

Sonny snorted. “Of course they aren’t. Tell ‘em they aren’t getting paid based on the time we wait for their sorry asses. In fact, can we add a completion penalty to the contract?”

Towers nodded, his thick gray hair bobbing with the movement. “Nothing’s been signed yet, so I can add it in as an amendment to the draft. They’ll complain, but not too much. Not based on what we’re paying and the market for jobs like this in the Miami area.”

“Good. I don’t want some damned overrun and delay like we had with the modifications to the guest house. That set us back a good six months on treatments.”

Dr. Nichole Jessup, the clinical director of Caitlin’s House, nodded her agreement. “I understand we needed the housing option. There’s no question there. But these things need to be accomplished in the agreed-upon time. Otherwise it throws everything else off.”

Catalina Sanchez, the fiery nurse practitioner who oversaw the housing side of the House, turned to look at Sonny. “Frankly, I was surprised we hired them again after last time.”

“Yeah. I didn’t want to. But, honestly, it would take longer to bring a new firm up to speed than it will to beat these bozos into line. At least for this phase. If we expand again, we will be seeking other options unless these guys really amaze me.”

“Gonna take a lot to impress Angie. Blondie’s too easy.”

“Ok…I’ll consider bringing them back if they impress Angie.” He looked around the table, with a smile on his face that was closer to Burnett than his own. “How does that sound?”

“Fair enough, if you wanted my opinion.” Towers looked down at his notes. “I understand the audit of Ms. Davies’ estate is complete. Is there going to be action required?”

Sonny looked across the table at Angie. “I should be getting it after this meeting, but from what I’ve been hearing so far the answer to that is yes. I’ll get you a copy and my thoughts as soon as Jenny and I have reviewed it. Mostly Jenny, since we all know I can’t count past ten with my shoes on.” He chuckled, trying to remove the shadow of Burnett from the room.

The conference room door opened and Rico and Mindy came in. “Sorry we’re late,” Rico said as he sat down. “The architects are right behind me somewhere.”

“You’re right on time, partner.” Sonny grinned. “And here they are,” he said as the three architects came in with their tubes of plans under their arms. “Let’s get down to it.”

The review of the plans went quickly, with Rico making a few alterations on the drawings for security. “I’ll want Stan to go over these before anything’s finalized,” he said as he dropped his pencil. “Checking for camera placement and all that wizard gear of his.”

The lead architect put on a sour lemonade face. “How long will that take?”

“No more than a day.” Sonny nodded to Towers. “There’s also an amendment to the contract. You can look it over while my staff reviews the plans. We’ll meet on Friday and finalize everything.” He looked down at his notes. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we gotta talk patient stuff.”

Once they left, leaving their plans and tubes on the table, he turned to Nichole. “I’d like to hear how the last group of patients is doing.”

They spent the rest of the morning reviewing patient status and outcomes. “…and it’s all going remarkably well,” Jessup finished, running her finger down a column of the spreadsheet in front of her. “We have close to a 95% completion rate, and of those girls only two have reoffended since the program began.”

“How many have gone through?”

“Over one hundred. Some of them were short term, of course. If you look at the residential program it’s been closer to forty. But we’ve had no reoffenders from the residential program.”

“How are we on staff?”

Catalina cleared her throat. “We’ll need more if we add more beds. And adding a boys wing means we’ll have to bring in people for that side, too. Along with a handful of providers.”

Nichole nodded her agreement. “We’ll start small, just like we did with the main program. I don’t think we’ll ever have as many boys, though. There are more programs for them…”

“But not the ones who’ve been caught in the sex trade.” Gina’s voice was firm. “Most programs won’t touch them, and they don’t stand a chance in the juvenile system. When they came through my old office they were the most broken kids we had to deal with. And the toughest to reach.”

Sonny looked at Jenny and saw he nod. “We’ll start small.” His voice left no room for argument. “No more than five at first, and maybe never more than twenty. What matters to me is that we help these kids, not the numbers. And if that means almost one-on-one attention, then that’s what we do. Period.”

Mindy looked at her spreadsheet. “On the positive side our fundraising is up significantly from last year. Angie’s got the full numbers for anyone who wants to see them, but we’re starting to reach outside of South Florida, and even outside Florida itself. We’re also eligible for some grants, which will help with staffing.”

Sonny laid his hands on the table. “I think the short version is we’re doing good here. Both real good and good in terms of funding. We’re doing what Cait would have wanted, and we’re doing it the right way. Rico, can you make sure Stan gets those plans? Thanks. Now let’s get back to work. And I want you all to know you’ve done an outstanding job again this quarter. Girls who didn’t have a chance have one now because of everyone at this table. Never forget that.”

Once the medical staff were gone, Angie dug into her bulging shoulder bag and pulled out a bound report, dropping it on the table with a resounding thud. “Here you go, Blondie. Little Blondie. Now Angie gotta go run some errands an’ make sure those girls don’t wreck girlfriend’s flowers.”

Towers had looked up at the thud, and grinned. “I’ve gotta run back downtown and get a copy of the new contract to the architects.”

“I’ll make sure you get a copy of this once we’re done. Along with what I want done.” Sonny shook the former DA’s hand. “Thanks, Gary.”

“I should be thanking you, Sonny. You know how good it feels to actually see these girls turning it around instead of locking them up? I…”

Gina stood up. “I’ll walk you out, Gary. I need to call Stan and get him out here to look over the plans. And I know just how you feel. It’s why I left OCB and then the department.”

Rico watched them go. “We got a good one with that cat. He’s hell on wheels in the courtroom and connected out the ass to boot. Mindy says some of the old money donations we’ve been getting are because of him.”

“Yeah. He’s from old time money. Still…he turned out good.” Sonny looked down at the report, flipping it open to the executive summary. “Unlike these assholes.”

“What did the chumps do?”

He read the first few lines and felt his blood go cold. Then Sonny Burnett entered his eyes and he slid the report across the table to his old partner. “Read for yourself.”

Rico blinked, then started reading. “Those bastards.”

Jenny touched his arm. “What?”

When Sonny spoke, his voice was the flat nothing of Sonny Burnett. “According to the audit, those bastards had been taking money from her since the very beginning. Will might have caught the record company and Tommy Lowe, but he missed these two. Or Haskell at least. Watkins came in later.”

“How much?” Jenny’s voice was very small, and he could feel her hand tighten on his arm.

“North of ten million dollars over about ten years.”

“I know a place where we can dump them. The sharks won’t leave anything behind, and the current will…”

“I know how you feel, Jenny. But we gotta do this right. Besides, those clowns only love money, right?” Sonny looked across the table at Rico. “I say we go after them for punitive damages in addition to recovery. Maybe three times what they took.”

“You really think they got that much stashed away?”

“Likely not, but I want to break them in a way they’ll remember. And that much money will keep the House going for years to come.” Sonny turned, looking out the wide window at the manicured lawn. “Anything we recover will go straight into the trust. I won’t touch a cent of it. It was her money, and it should go toward preserving her name and what we’re doing in her name.”

“When will you start?”

“Jenny and I gotta look this over first. Really look it over.” He smiled. “More her than me. I wasn’t kidding about not being able to count past ten with my shoes on. And we may have to wait until the contract for the addition is finalized. I’ll let Gary make that call, though.”

Rico looked at the summary again and shook his head. “I’ll bet Angie was mad as hell.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t go run them down herself. Guess she’s got more self-control than we thought.”

Mindy had been quiet since Towers left. “I hope we can get at least some of that money back. And if we need help, I still have some contacts we can tap. Ten to one these bastards hid their money offshore.”

“Yeah. And if they did they picked the wrong group to try to hide it from.” Sonny turned away from the window. “But then again they still think I’m Sonny Burnett.”

[Matt5]

13 hours ago, Robbie C. said:

Sonny was still grinning like a kid when he pulled the Daytona into his usual parking spot at the marina. “Man! I’d forgotten how much fun it is to drive with the top down.”

“Not me.” Jenny smiled as she pulled her t-shirt back on. She’d taken both it and the bikini top off just after they’d left Pete’s restaurant. “Driving or sailing is always more fun with the top down.”

“You’re just lucky the old guy in the Caddy didn’t run into that light pole back on the Intercoastal.” Sonny started down the dock toward Tranquility. It felt good to be going home.

“That’s probably the most fun he’s had in years.” She giggled and ran ahead of him. “I’ll get ready to cast off.”

Smiling, he let her go. He liked watching her run, and he also knew she’d get the boat ready faster than he could. Jenny was a natural on the water, like she’d been born to it and only came on shore when she needed more beer. He couldn’t think of any place more natural for them to live than on Tranquility.

For most of his undercover life he’d lived at least part time on a 42 foot sailboat. The St. Vitus Dance was now one of the therapy tools available to Caitlin’s House, along with Jenny’s Vellamo. Now they called the renovated 60-foot, two masted Tranquility home. Once owned by a smuggler rival of Jenny’s, she’d redone most of the interior and turned it into the most comfortable refuge Sonny could imagine.

She’d already cast off the side lines by the time he was aboard and was in the process of starting the diesel auxiliary engine. “We’ll move out under power,” she said as the engine coughed to life. “Then I’ll unfurl the sails.” She tugged at her t-shirt. “And other things.”

He shrugged off his jacket. “Need a hand?”

“Not yet. Why don’t you go below and get some drinks ready?” She slipped behind the polished brass wheel, spinning it slightly as Tranquility eased away from the dock.

It was cool below decks, and Sonny headed through the salon to the starboard side berth Jenny had converted into what she called the ‘Memory Room.’ The mahogany walls were covered with framed pictures from both their pasts, and a comfortable sideboard couch let you sit and take it all in. Pictures of her in a prom dress shared space with a photo from his wedding to Caitlin, yet she made it all seem so natural. She’d never been jealous of Cait, and encouraged him to remember her. “She made you the man I love,” she said more times than he could count. “How could I not love her?”

There were also pictures from Vietnam, him and Robbie Cann trying to look like brave Marines for the camera but coming off as scared boys away from home for the first time. Some of her in the Islands during her career smuggling art, often working on Vellamo with the same care she showered on their new home. And right in the middle of it all was a picture of the entire Task Force, including Brick’s high-risk warrant team and Pete Washington. Robbie was there, too, since the photo was taken in his club. Their last party as an official unit.

Sighing he turned and headed back through the salon to the galley. Going into the Memory Room was one of his little rituals when he came back to the boat. A thing to remind him of where he’d come from and what had happened along the way. He could hear the waves slapping against the hull and feel the boat rise slightly with the sea as she guided Tranquility away from the shelter of the marina and into the open ocean. Soon, he knew, she’d cut the motor and unfurl the main sail. Running against the onshore breeze to put some distance between them and Miami.

Pulling bottles from the rack above the sink, he felt a smile slipping onto his face. He was happy. And he’d been happy for going on two years. Actually, if he was honest with himself, he’d been happy longer than that. It started when he came back to Miami with Rico and picked up the badge again, joining the then-new Task Force. But it really took hold when a slightly bedraggled blonde in a thin white t-shirt had walked down the dock to the St. Vitus Dance and shared a six-pack of beer with him.

Their seagoing drink was orange juice and rum, a combination of the Islands and Florida that appealed to her sense of humor. But it was good on the rocks, and Sonny could nurse one for as long as it stayed cold. Still, he made it in a larger pitcher…some nights Jenny had more than one or two. He’d cut back, even more since he left the force, but there were nights he traded drinks with her out on the water. We both have our demons he thought as he stirred the rum into the orange juice with a long glass rod. Some days more than others.

The shore was a distant memory by the time he got back on deck. She’d cut the engine and switched over to the main sail. He could hear the canvas crack as it caught the wind and ropes groan as she shifted the rigging to pull them away from land. With everything set, she’d also tossed her shirt aside, and she smiled at him from the settee next to the polished wheel. “It’s about time you got up here. I was getting thirsty.”

“I’d say keep your shirt on, but it’s too late for that.” Grinning, he handed her a full glass and sank into the cushions beside her, making sure the pitcher was secure on the railed table. “And no, I ain’t complaining.”

“Good.” She snuggled up against him, taking a sip of her drink and sighing. “I’ve got the course plotted so we can swing back in and tie up at the house later. Or in the morning.”

“I like the sound of morning.” He slipped his arm around her, feeling her hair drape across his skin. “But I gotta admit it was good seeing Pete again.”

“Yes. He’s happy now. And so are Martin and Trudy. It’s good to see everyone happy.”

“Yeah.” He sipped his drink, feeling the bite of the rum on his tongue. “It really is.” The routine was comforting. They’d have a drink or two, haul in some of the sails while he made dinner and they ate below, then raise sail again and go until the night took them fully in its embrace. Then they’d drop sail and make love topside before going below. If anyone had told him five years ago this is what his life would look like now, he would have told them they were crazy. Or worse. Hell, even three years ago. He looked over at Jenny, her slim body highlighted by the setting sun as she watched the waves. And if anyone told me I’d love someone as much as I loved Cait I would have shot them. But here we are.

 

The flight had been long, and now Gordon Wiggins waited with the rest of the swine from his flight around the carousel waiting for his bag to clatter out of whatever hell the airline had consigned it to. At least I won’t have to smell that cow’s perfume any more he thought, looking across the room at the big woman with bad hair and a stained Disney World t-shirt waiting with her equally-horrid family.

Bag finally in hand, he headed for the exit and flagged down one of the line of cabs waiting in their queue. “The Hilton,” he muttered to the driver and slumped in the back seat next to his lone bag. First he’d get comfortable and then start looking for the reason he’d come to Miami in the first place.

He’d picked the Hilton for the simple reason he knew what he’d get from the moment he walked into the lobby until he was settled in his room and opened the mini-fridge and looked for a drink. Predictable. And enough luxury to let him forget about the Club Fed he’d called home for the last few years, even for a moment. Tossing his bag on the room’s queen-size bed, he plucked a small bottle of scotch from the fridge and made himself a drink while he looked out the big bay window at a city he’d always despised. But there was no helping it. He couldn’t do what he needed to do from Los Angeles or even New York City.

The phone book on the room’s desk was missing pages were previous occupants had torn them out, but he found what he was looking for in the ‘Lawyers’ section. Running a finger down the thin yellow paper he stopped at the name and grinned, taking another drink. “You sly old dog. I figured you’d still be in the game,” he muttered, his words almost lost in the newscast blaring from the big television. It was too late to call today, but he knew what he’d be doing in the morning.

By the time the room service waiter arrived with his steak dinner, he’d unpacked his bag and had a second drink. He ate in front of the window, sneering at the splashes of neon popping up like dandelions as the city switched from day to night. Still, the view wasn’t bad considering no bars blocked his view.

He’d started on his third hotel room bottle when the late local news came on, leading off with a story about some feel-good charity for wayward girls. Wiggins snorted, and was about to change the channel when the plastic blonde reading the news said the name. “Caitlin’s House was recognized…” His hand froze on the remote until the story ended.

“So that’s what the place turned into.” He’d changed over to some old Western with Randolf Scott beating hell out of a bad guy, but the story stuck in his head. “I wonder if her widower is still involved. Surprised he didn’t trade the dump for a case of that swill he used to drink.” Maybe tomorrow’s call would be easier than he thought. Now he had a target.

 

Even though it wasn’t quite light out, Stanly Switek had been up for an hour or so. Coffee bubbled its way through the coffee maker, and he checked the bacon frying in the pan before giving it a final turn and fishing the strips out to drain on folded paper towels on top of old newspaper. His mother may not have done much to protect him from his father, but she’d done her best to teach Stan how to cook. He was the first to admit not much of it had stuck except for bacon and coffee.

Buttering toast, he stacked slices on two plates, bracketing them with bacon and scrambled eggs mixed with salsa from the night before. Gina was still asleep on the second floor of their tidy town house. It was a hell of a change from their walk-up apartment, and Stan was the first to admit Sonny Crockett had made it possible when he’d hired Gina away from victim services and then put him and Lester on contracted retainer for Caitlin’s House security. The bedroom had a view of the ocean if you squinted hard enough, but what he really liked was its isolation from the kitchen. He could surprise Gina with breakfast in bed, something he couldn’t do in any of their apartments.

Breakfast had been an afterthought. Pouring coffee, he let his mind float back to his real reason for being up. He and Lester had been working on new ways to check for electronic surveillance devices, and he’d been tinkering with a unit in the first floor bedroom that had become his home workshop. They were close to a breakthrough, and any time that happened Stan found himself sleeping less as ideas kept popping into his head.

Sunlight streamed through the slatted blinds covering the bedroom’s balcony door, and he set the tray down on his side of the bed before leaning over and kissing Gina on the forehead. “It’s not fried peanut butter banana sandwiches, but I brought you breakfast.”

She blinked up at him, still working sleep from her eyes and mind. “And it’s a good thing it’s not, Stanley Switek. I’d hate to throw a perfectly good meal at you. What time is it?”

“About ten seconds before your alarm goes off.” Stan grinned as the beeping started. “Ok, maybe later than that.”

“And I’ve got the quarterly review this morning.” She stretched, letting the sheets fall away from her body.

“I can see a quarter I’d like to review right now.” He grinned and shifted the tray. “But you’d better eat if you want to get in on time. Those dog and pony shows always take longer than you think.”

“Tell me about it.” She took a sip of coffee and smiled. “At least Sonny and Jenny aren’t big on the formal parts. But you can’t slip a thing past Jenny and Angie.”

“Yeah. I remember the story you told me about that one counselor who tried.” Stan chuckled and picked a slice of bacon from the tray.

She nodded. “And I felt you get up earlier. How’s that project coming?”

“I tired not to wake you up.” He reached over and ran a finger along her cheek. “Sorry about that. But you know how it is when I get an idea… Anyhow, it’s almost done, I think. Lester and I will run some tests later at the shop, but it’s almost there.”

“I won’t ask because I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She smiled. “But it’s good it’s almost done. I know that silly thing’s been giving the two of you fits for weeks.”

“Yeah. And it’s the kind of thing Lar might have been able to crack in a couple of days. He had this way with that kind of stuff.” Stan shook his head. “But then again maybe not. Lester’s really good with the passive stuff and he couldn’t crack it right away.” In the last couple of years he’d really come to appreciate his partner’s expertise with surveillance gear, especially on the electronics theory side. Stan was an ace at assembly and packaging, but he knew he came up short on the theory side. Lester, on the other hand, was damned good. Better than Larry Zito had been. And Stan, the new Stan, was man enough to admit it.

Chewing his bacon, nodding from time to time as Gina talked about what she was going to present at the meeting, Stan took stock. Usually when he was joking around with Lester he’d talk about the old Stan and the new Stan, but in many ways it was true. Back with OCB he’d been bitter, especially after Larry was murdered, and then his gambling spun out of control. Most days it was like a bad dream…one he’d taken years to wake up from.

Then they’d gotten on the Task Force and everything changed. Especially Sonny. If someone had told him before he’d enjoy working with Sonny Crockett he would have laughed in their face. But Sonny’s time away from OCB had changed him, and Stan had grown enough to admit that. And there’d also been Gina…

The thought of her drew him out of his own thoughts and back to the room. She was still talking about the presentation between bites of eggs and bacon. They’d both changed in the year Sonny and Rico had been gone. She’d left OCB for a post with Victims’ Services, and moved in with him not long after. Their love had come out of nowhere, even though looking back Stan could see it had been taking root for years. Not unlike Trudy and Castillo’s, but different in its own way. Gina had carried a torch for Crockett, and Stan had always imagined her out of reach. But that had started to change when Caitlin was murdered and Sonny went to pieces.

And now here they were. Married, with jobs neither one of them would have considered possible four years ago. With lives they wouldn’t have considered possible. Without tasting it he took a drink of coffee and finished his eggs.

“You haven’t heard a word I said!”

“Uh…I gotta be honest. No. I was thinking about how lucky we are. How amazing all this is.”

“I know.” She touched his arm. “I think about that every day.”

“Yeah. I get caught up in stuff an’ don’t think maybe as much as I should about that.” He took her hand in his and kissed it. “But I heard enough of what you said. You really think they’ll be able to expand next year?”

“I do. Fundraising has been good. You wouldn’t believe the prices some of Trudy’s paintings get! And Mindy’s been able to tap into some sources we couldn’t really touch before. Boston money. And Jenny said she’d match some contributions with money from her trust fund.” She sat up in bed, the covers falling completely away. Stan almost choked on a bite of toast when he saw her body. “If we can get the addition done we can start treating boys.”

“Good. God knows they need help, too.” He felt his cheeks get warm when she saw him staring and smiled. “I’ll get the tray cleaned up and then maybe we can get you showered.”

She smiled and touched him. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

 

Sonny passed through security at Caitlin’s House without a hitch, insisting the guards check his concealed carry permit even though they knew him personally. They did the same with Jenny. “No one gets a break,” he told every guard as soon as Rico finished their orientation. “Not me, not your mother, not Rico’s mother. No one. Check us all like it’s our first time through. Every time. That’s how we keep these girls safe and help them recover.” After he’d fired one for not taking it seriously, a former State Trooper no less, the rest decided Sonny meant business.

After he’d been cleared, things relaxed. Some of them he knew from his time with Metro-Dade, others from the Marshal’s Task Force. Most had been with the House since it opened, and shared his commitment to its success.

Jenny slipped her arm around his waist, her figure shown to advantage in a slight white cotton dress. “Are you ready for an hour of numbers?”

“No. Never am.” He pulled off his sunglasses and slipped them into the pocket of his white linen blazer. “But I know they gotta add up for us to get this where it needs to go, so here I am.” He looked down at her and smiled. “Did the accountants finish the audit of the estate?”

“About a week ago. Angie’s still looking through it and then she’ll give it to me.” Jenny’s blue eyes went hard. “I think we’ll end up suing those bastards. It sounds like they took more of Caitlin’s money than they should have.”

Sonny felt a stab of anger shoot through his body. “If they did, I’ll close them down for good. Is that why the audit took so long?”

“Angie said yes. She said they went back years. Before…” Jenny’s voice trailed off. “Before you were married.”

“Good. I didn’t know she’d had them that long.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “And anything we get from them goes back into the House.”

Angie hadn’t changed a bit since the first time he’d laid eyes on her. She still squeezed herself into animal print dresses and wore heels about an inch higher than was considered safe or advisable. And she was still one of the most formidable people he’d ever met. Man or woman. “Blondie! Little Blondie! Angie didn’t expect you so early.”

Jenny laughed and hugged the bigger woman. “Don’t be silly, Angie. I told you we’d be early.”

“Yeah, but Blondie don’t move so good in the morning.” Angie looked over Jenny’s head at Sonny and winked. “Least he didn’t used to.”

“I haven’t had a hangover in over a year, Angie.” He winked back. “And I ain’t that old yet.”

“I’m proud of him.” Jenny smiled and then changed the subject. Sonny was used to her conversational jumps by now. “How do the numbers look?”

“Little Blondie don’t have to worry none about that. And the report’s ready about that other business. I expect Blondie’s gonna be fit to be tied when he reads it. Angie sure as hell is.”

Jenny nodded. “We’ll talk about that after this. But now I want to know about fundraising…”

Sonny just tagged along behind, letting them talk their weird numbers language while he took in the changes still going on around him. The house he and Caitlin had shared ever so briefly was unrecognizable now, the big entryway given over to the security post and reception desk barring entry to the rest of the building. One wing was given over entirely to secure rooms for the girls, another to classrooms and therapy rooms, and a small medical clinic rounded out the first floor. Administration was on the expanded second floor, along with more security and offices for key staff. They’d connected the guest house with a corridor last year, adding more therapy locations and a second, smaller housing unit.

As they climbed the stairs to the conference room, he still had the ability to wonder at it all. What started as a simple conversation had grown into this, and it was poised to keep going. The box set of Caitlin’s music they released last year had been a hit, with the profits going back into Caitlin’s House and the surviving members of her band. Sonny had even endowed a music scholarship in the name of Will, her murdered bass player. After failing so miserably to protect her from Hackman, it was the least he could do.

“You don’t have to beat yourself up, you know. She forgives you.”

“What?” He stopped and looked up at Jenny standing at the top of the stairs.

“She forgives you. She always has. And she loves all this.” Then she turned and continued on with Angie as if she’d never said a word.

How the hell does she do that? She’d been doing things like that almost from the moment they’d met, and he’d long ago told himself to stop trying to figure it out. But every time she did, he still tried to puzzle it out. And each time he’d come up empty. Smiling, he remembered what Rico had told him when she first blew into his life. Just roll with it, partner. Yeah. Easier said than done sometimes.

Gina sat near the head of the table, talking with Gary Towers, the former DA Sonny had retained as the lawyer for Caitlin’s House and the estate after he’d fired the old team. She looked up and smiled when they came in. “We’ll start in a couple of minutes. Mindy was finishing something downstairs and the architects aren’t here yet.”

Sonny snorted. “Of course they aren’t. Tell ‘em they aren’t getting paid based on the time we wait for their sorry asses. In fact, can we add a completion penalty to the contract?”

Towers nodded, his thick gray hair bobbing with the movement. “Nothing’s been signed yet, so I can add it in as an amendment to the draft. They’ll complain, but not too much. Not based on what we’re paying and the market for jobs like this in the Miami area.”

“Good. I don’t want some damned overrun and delay like we had with the modifications to the guest house. That set us back a good six months on treatments.”

Dr. Nichole Jessup, the clinical director of Caitlin’s House, nodded her agreement. “I understand we needed the housing option. There’s no question there. But these things need to be accomplished in the agreed-upon time. Otherwise it throws everything else off.”

Catalina Sanchez, the fiery nurse practitioner who oversaw the housing side of the House, turned to look at Sonny. “Frankly, I was surprised we hired them again after last time.”

“Yeah. I didn’t want to. But, honestly, it would take longer to bring a new firm up to speed than it will to beat these bozos into line. At least for this phase. If we expand again, we will be seeking other options unless these guys really amaze me.”

“Gonna take a lot to impress Angie. Blondie’s too easy.”

“Ok…I’ll consider bringing them back if they impress Angie.” He looked around the table, with a smile on his face that was closer to Burnett than his own. “How does that sound?”

“Fair enough, if you wanted my opinion.” Towers looked down at his notes. “I understand the audit of Ms. Davies’ estate is complete. Is there going to be action required?”

Sonny looked across the table at Angie. “I should be getting it after this meeting, but from what I’ve been hearing so far the answer to that is yes. I’ll get you a copy and my thoughts as soon as Jenny and I have reviewed it. Mostly Jenny, since we all know I can’t count past ten with my shoes on.” He chuckled, trying to remove the shadow of Burnett from the room.

The conference room door opened and Rico and Mindy came in. “Sorry we’re late,” Rico said as he sat down. “The architects are right behind me somewhere.”

“You’re right on time, partner.” Sonny grinned. “And here they are,” he said as the three architects came in with their tubes of plans under their arms. “Let’s get down to it.”

The review of the plans went quickly, with Rico making a few alterations on the drawings for security. “I’ll want Stan to go over these before anything’s finalized,” he said as he dropped his pencil. “Checking for camera placement and all that wizard gear of his.”

The lead architect put on a sour lemonade face. “How long will that take?”

“No more than a day.” Sonny nodded to Towers. “There’s also an amendment to the contract. You can look it over while my staff reviews the plans. We’ll meet on Friday and finalize everything.” He looked down at his notes. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we gotta talk patient stuff.”

Once they left, leaving their plans and tubes on the table, he turned to Nichole. “I’d like to hear how the last group of patients is doing.”

They spent the rest of the morning reviewing patient status and outcomes. “…and it’s all going remarkably well,” Jessup finished, running her finger down a column of the spreadsheet in front of her. “We have close to a 95% completion rate, and of those girls only two have reoffended since the program began.”

“How many have gone through?”

“Over one hundred. Some of them were short term, of course. If you look at the residential program it’s been closer to forty. But we’ve had no reoffenders from the residential program.”

“How are we on staff?”

Catalina cleared her throat. “We’ll need more if we add more beds. And adding a boys wing means we’ll have to bring in people for that side, too. Along with a handful of providers.”

Nichole nodded her agreement. “We’ll start small, just like we did with the main program. I don’t think we’ll ever have as many boys, though. There are more programs for them…”

“But not the ones who’ve been caught in the sex trade.” Gina’s voice was firm. “Most programs won’t touch them, and they don’t stand a chance in the juvenile system. When they came through my old office they were the most broken kids we had to deal with. And the toughest to reach.”

Sonny looked at Jenny and saw he nod. “We’ll start small.” His voice left no room for argument. “No more than five at first, and maybe never more than twenty. What matters to me is that we help these kids, not the numbers. And if that means almost one-on-one attention, then that’s what we do. Period.”

Mindy looked at her spreadsheet. “On the positive side our fundraising is up significantly from last year. Angie’s got the full numbers for anyone who wants to see them, but we’re starting to reach outside of South Florida, and even outside Florida itself. We’re also eligible for some grants, which will help with staffing.”

Sonny laid his hands on the table. “I think the short version is we’re doing good here. Both real good and good in terms of funding. We’re doing what Cait would have wanted, and we’re doing it the right way. Rico, can you make sure Stan gets those plans? Thanks. Now let’s get back to work. And I want you all to know you’ve done an outstanding job again this quarter. Girls who didn’t have a chance have one now because of everyone at this table. Never forget that.”

Once the medical staff were gone, Angie dug into her bulging shoulder bag and pulled out a bound report, dropping it on the table with a resounding thud. “Here you go, Blondie. Little Blondie. Now Angie gotta go run some errands an’ make sure those girls don’t wreck girlfriend’s flowers.”

Towers had looked up at the thud, and grinned. “I’ve gotta run back downtown and get a copy of the new contract to the architects.”

“I’ll make sure you get a copy of this once we’re done. Along with what I want done.” Sonny shook the former DA’s hand. “Thanks, Gary.”

“I should be thanking you, Sonny. You know how good it feels to actually see these girls turning it around instead of locking them up? I…”

Gina stood up. “I’ll walk you out, Gary. I need to call Stan and get him out here to look over the plans. And I know just how you feel. It’s why I left OCB and then the department.”

Rico watched them go. “We got a good one with that cat. He’s hell on wheels in the courtroom and connected out the ass to boot. Mindy says some of the old money donations we’ve been getting are because of him.”

“Yeah. He’s from old time money. Still…he turned out good.” Sonny looked down at the report, flipping it open to the executive summary. “Unlike these assholes.”

“What did the chumps do?”

He read the first few lines and felt his blood go cold. Then Sonny Burnett entered his eyes and he slid the report across the table to his old partner. “Read for yourself.”

Rico blinked, then started reading. “Those bastards.”

Jenny touched his arm. “What?”

When Sonny spoke, his voice was the flat nothing of Sonny Burnett. “According to the audit, those bastards had been taking money from her since the very beginning. Will might have caught the record company and Tommy Lowe, but he missed these two. Or Haskell at least. Watkins came in later.”

“How much?” Jenny’s voice was very small, and he could feel her hand tighten on his arm.

“North of ten million dollars over about ten years.”

“I know a place where we can dump them. The sharks won’t leave anything behind, and the current will…”

“I know how you feel, Jenny. But we gotta do this right. Besides, those clowns only love money, right?” Sonny looked across the table at Rico. “I say we go after them for punitive damages in addition to recovery. Maybe three times what they took.”

“You really think they got that much stashed away?”

“Likely not, but I want to break them in a way they’ll remember. And that much money will keep the House going for years to come.” Sonny turned, looking out the wide window at the manicured lawn. “Anything we recover will go straight into the trust. I won’t touch a cent of it. It was her money, and it should go toward preserving her name and what we’re doing in her name.”

“When will you start?”

“Jenny and I gotta look this over first. Really look it over.” He smiled. “More her than me. I wasn’t kidding about not being able to count past ten with my shoes on. And we may have to wait until the contract for the addition is finalized. I’ll let Gary make that call, though.”

Rico looked at the summary again and shook his head. “I’ll bet Angie was mad as hell.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t go run them down herself. Guess she’s got more self-control than we thought.”

Mindy had been quiet since Towers left. “I hope we can get at least some of that money back. And if we need help, I still have some contacts we can tap. Ten to one these bastards hid their money offshore.”

“Yeah. And if they did they picked the wrong group to try to hide it from.” Sonny turned away from the window. “But then again they still think I’m Sonny Burnett.”

Great read Robbie as always.

[mjcmmv]

I love the detail, Robbie. The way you describe the characters and set up the plot, it's easy to get caught up in the story.

I'm looking forward to the next installment!

[Robbie C.]

Glad you’re enjoying it so far! It’s kind of interesting writing the crew without the normal MV action. It really points out the character holes the show left.