“At first Uncle Bo was fun to be around,” she continued. “He wanted to hear about my day, listened to my stories. Like he didn’t cut me off or tune me out. It seemed like he really cared, you know.”
I nodded to encourage her to continue talking. I didn’t want to interrupt her.
“I really looked forward to seeing him. I loved his hugging me, the smell of his cologne—he was so funny . . .”
Tears ran down Wittman’s cheeks.
“Daddy, you were away a lot and Aunt Sue went to sleep early. Uncle Bo would watch movies with me. I stretched out on the sofa, and he sat next to me. Then one night, he turned out the lights, and soon he was lying down behind me.”
She talked as if she were describing a scene in a movie. “He put his hand underneath my shirt and began to touch my breasts.”
Jace clenched his fists.
“I didn’t know what to do,” said Julie, who cried softly as she told how her uncle then began visiting her bedroom. She said Hines would talk to her about their “strong connection.”
“I was afraid,” she said. “But he made me feel important and I really liked him.”
“And your aunt found out?” I asked.
She nodded. “I think so.”
Julie burrowed into her father’s shoulder and started sobbing again.
After a third attempt to get up from the floor, I stood.
Jace asked, “What are we going to do? I can’t let my daughter suffer through the humiliation of a trial. I can’t.”
He was crying, too. “I’ve been so stupid,” he said shaking his head. “Right under my nose.”
“Grudges,” I whispered to myself.
“What?” asked Jace.
“Nothing. Where’s my cell phone?”
He pointed to his windbreaker on the counter near the bar. “It’s in my pocket,” he said. “What in the hell are you going to do?”
The phone had a signal, but the battery was low. I dialed Gravy.
“Walker, where are you?” he asked. “Childs is dead. Harden has looked for you everywhere.”
“I’m on a boat with Jace Wittman and his daughter.”
“What?”
“Gravy, be quiet and listen. I’ve killed Bo Hines.”
“Shit.”
“It was self-defense,” I said and looked at the Wittmans. Jace nodded his head. “Have police and EMS meet us at Palafox Pier.”
“Are you hurt?”
My phone died.
“Anyone else have a phone?” I asked, but their phones had lost their charge, too.
“Okay, we need to get back to Pensacola,” I said. “But first, Julie, you must scrub your hands with the strongest soap on this boat. We’ve got to get as much powder residue off as possible.”
Jace said, “Won’t they still detect it?”
“This isn’t CSI,” I said. “I’m giving them a better target.”
I picked up the gun. It was heavier than I thought. “Jace, go below with Julie. I’ll start the engines, but you may still hear a gunshot. It’s me putting another bullet in him.”
“But I deserve to go to jail,” Julie said.
“No one is going to jail. We were having a friendly discussion. Bo became enraged and started beating me. Jace, you tried to stop him, and Bo knocked you unconscious. He pulled the gun. I wrestled with him and the gun fired twice killing him.”
Holding his daughter tightly, Jace agreed. “Julie, we can make it work. We’ve got about a thirty-minute ride. We can get our stories together.”
After they had gone below, I started the engine and fired the gun. The glass door behind Hines shattered from the additional force. The motors drowned out the noise. I draped a blanket over Hines’ corpse and called for the Wittmans to come back.
I was in no shape to steer the Sundancer. My equilibrium was shot, making it hard to stand.
“You need to lay down,” Jace said. “You’re bleeding.”
Julie was worn out, but she wouldn’t leave her father’s side. Behind them, the sun began to peek over the horizon.
Jace said, “Let’s take you downstairs and put you on one of the beds.”
“But we need to get our alibis straight.”
“Julie and I will handle our end,” Jace said.
They placed me on a bed in the bow of the Sundancer and used pillows to keep me from rolling off. I tried to work out what I would tell the police at the dock, but I only got to “Bo beat the crap out of me . . .” before I passed out.
“Mr. Holmes?”
I opened my right eye and saw a female police officer standing over me.
“Can you get up?”
I shook my head. “I want my attorney.”
Her bulletproof vest made her look like one of the Teletubbies, but I couldn’t remember there being a blue one. Maybe she was a Care Bear.
She said, “Your attorney is on the dock. The paramedics are going to take you off the boat and check you out.”
“I can walk with some help,” I said. My voice was hoarse.
“Good thing,” I heard a male voice say from the deck. “There’s no way in hell we can get a stretcher down there.”
Slowly, painfully, they walked me up the curved steps, past Hines’ body and helped me off the boat. They lifted me onto a gurney on the Palafox Pier dock.
Gravy appeared at my side. He whispered, “My God, Walker, what happened?”
“Hines attacked me . . . his gun went off,” I said.
A crime scene technician stopped the EMTs before they put me in the ambulance.
“We need to swab his hands,” she said.
“No,” said Gravy. “Not without a warrant.”
A thin man in a blue windbreaker came to the technician’s aid. “Is there a problem here, counselor?” he asked.
Gravy apparently knew the man. He must have been with either the police or state attorney’s office. Gravy said, “Jack, my client needs to get to the hospital. I’m not letting your guys maul him. Clearly he’s a victim here, not a suspect.”
Jack said, “We have sufficient probable cause to swab Mr. Holmes’ hands. You know that, Gravy.”
“No, it’s fine,” I said giving Gravy a slight nod. “Let’s get it over with.”
He said, “This is over my objection, but he’s the client.”
I noticed a young, sandy-haired man talking with
