I signaled Rusty for a pen and he produced one from his pocket, along with his ever-present order pad, which he ripped a sheet from.
I flipped the paper over and scrawled Nancy’s name and number on the back, along with her niece’s address.
“Thank you so much, Mr. McDermitt. Call me back as soon as you know whether you can help.”
“I will. And just call me Jesse.”
Once Nancy disconnected, I held out the phone to Rusty so he could put it back under the bar. He had a quizzical look on his face as he passed me another Red Stripe.
“Who was that?” he asked.
“I don’t know the woman. Scott Bond put her on to me.”
He leaned over the bar. “Scott’s a straight shooter. But you look worried. What’d she want?”
“She seemed nice,” I said. “She’s got a sixteen-year-old niece that she’s very worried about. According to her, the niece stumbled onto an attempted MS-13 snatch of another young girl and the niece took out two of the gang members and saved the girl they were trying to abduct. Now MS-13 wants to put her in the ground or worse.”
“There’s a story with no happy ending.”
“No kidding,” I agreed. “You know how I feel about gangs. Every last one of their members is a skin-bag, wasting precious oxygen.”
“You got that right. So, what did the woman want?”
“She wants me to provide protection for the girl and her family.”
Rusty put down the glass he’d been polishing and looked up. “That ain’t something you do.”
“I know, but it sounds like this young girl has a ton of heart. What teenager puts her own life at risk to save a stranger these days?”
“She must be a big girl.”
I shook my head, still a bit perplexed. “Nancy said she’s just five feet tall. Told me the girl’s had some Krav Maga training.”
“My kind of lady,” he said. “So, what are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure. Her niece is three years younger than Flo and going off to college in the fall. She sounds like a really good kid and I know that if Flo were in the same kind of trouble and someone could help keep her safe, I’d be eternally grateful to that person.”
“There’s a lot of worthy causes out there, Jesse,” Rusty said, putting the glass away and wiping a bar that was already clean. “You can’t save them all.”
“I know. I’ve got to give it some thought and talk it over with Savannah tomorrow.” I rose from my stool. “I’m going to head down to the Dog.”
“You’ll figure something out,” he said. “Oh, Jesse, Rufus wanted me to give you a care package for Savannah.” He reached under the bar and handed me a small paper bag, the top folded over neatly.
“What’s in it?”
“I think it’s some of that secret rub he puts on the fish. He won’t give anyone the recipe, but he obviously thinks highly enough of Savannah to part with some of it.”
I opened the bag and breathed in the incredible combination of allspice, nutmeg, ginger, garlic, cloves, and several other Caribbean spices I couldn’t identify. Just the smell made my mouth water and I suddenly craved a fish sandwich.
“Man, does that smell good,” I said, closing the bag back up. “Be sure to thank him for me. Savannah will love this.”
“I will,” he said. “Have a good night.”
“You too, brother.”
Outside, I walked around to the far side of the canal, where Savannah’s boat was tied up. The warm night air was fragrant and rich with the scent of jasmine, frangipani, oiled deck planks, and exposed mudflats. The complex combination smelled familiar to me and was unique to the Florida Keys.
I stopped at Sea Biscuit, Savannah’s Grand Banks trawler. No one was aboard, but I wanted to check her lines to make sure she was secure.
MS-13 gang activity in Fort Myers?
I had no idea they’d spread to that small town. So many changes were taking place. But the last thing I needed was another project.
I caught myself as I walked back around the barge. Since when had helping to save the life of a sixteen-year-old girl become just another project to me?
“Come on, Jesse. Priorities!” I chided myself.
As I strolled back along the dock, I reviewed the conversation with Nancy in my mind. I had a lot going on. I was in the process of renovating the bunkhouse and I wanted to make the island more like a home for Savannah and less like a DHS training facility. Savannah and Flo had lived on Sea Biscuit for eighteen years. After returning from the cruise, we’d decided to create a land-based residence that felt like a home to both of us. That was my top priority. We’d even put up a tree on Christmas, a first for my little island.
I was also preparing to take the helm of Ambrosia with my new wife and possibly a little boy, who couldn’t remember his name. Ambrosia was scheduled for sea trials next week, and by the summer we’d be on station off the coast of Brazil.
I figured Chyrel could probably provide some insight about gang activity in Fort Myers, but I wanted information about them from someone with boots on the ground.
When I stepped up to Salty Dog’s deck, I unlocked the companionway hatch and switched on the lights, then went down to the navigation station, where my laptop was located.
I knew a guy by the name of Phil Tucker up in Miami. He was a corporal when I retired from the Corps, ending my active service, and I’d kept in touch with him off and on, since he was also from Florida. He’d EASed after four years, gone home, and taken a job with Miami-Dade PD. The last time I’d talked to him,
