“What’s fresh?” I asked.
“Dink just dropped off some cobia a little while ago. They were swimming this morning.”
“Three plates,” I said, and we went over to a table in the corner.
Dink was a local fishing guide who always brought fresh fish to Rufus’s kitchen. By his own admission, Dink wasn’t much of a cook, often saying he could burn Kool-Aid. So, since he brought Rufus two or three nice fish every day, Rusty let him eat for free. Rusty had the same arrangement with a few other guides and often let them eat free, even on days when they got skunked on the water. Having local guides meet their clients at the Anchor increased Rusty’s revenue. And it probably cut the kitchen’s fish budget in half.
A moment later, Rusty brought us a water pitcher and glasses. “Want a beer with your food?”
“No, thanks,” I replied. “We’re gonna head back up to the island before it gets dark.”
While we waited, I sent another text to Andersen, to see how long he’d be. He came through the door reading it.
“Got time for dinner?” I asked, as he approached our table.
“Ha, I just ate lunch. Dinner for a cop is usually around midnight. How are you doing, Alberto?”
“Good,” the boy replied. “I remember some things.”
“Like what?” Andersen asked, settling into a chair.
“My name’s Alberto Marco,” he replied. “I’ll be nine in June. My dad was LaBron Green. He was a mechanic and could fix anything. He taught me how to play chess, but he died in a car wreck when I was five. That’s when Mom started using drugs.” He paused for a moment and his eyes shifted to mine.
I nodded.
He looked somberly at the detective. “Mom died from the drugs.”
Andersen glanced over at me. “I did the check, as you asked. It’s confirmed.”
“We want to adopt Alberto,” Savannah said. “We’ll give him a good home.”
Andersen smiled at the kid. “If it was up to me, I’d say yes.” Then he turned his gaze to me and Savannah. “But it’s not up to me. Lee County is investigating. If there are no relatives who can take him, he’ll be able to be adopted.” Then he grinned. “But I have good news. Your application to foster was fast-tracked and approved. Alberto can stay with you until a relative comes forward, or he’s adopted. If you want to do that, you need to file paperwork with the Department of Children and Families, then hire an adoption attorney. Foster parents are almost always approved to adopt their foster kids if no relatives can.”
“How long will that take?” I asked.
“Who knows? I would guess it’d be several weeks at least, maybe months. And that’s only after Lee County finishes their investigation.”
“I don’t think I have any other family,” Alberto said. “Mom didn’t have any brothers or sisters, and I’ve only seen pictures of my grandma. She’s in one of those homes.”
“A nursing home,” Andersen said to me. “That much, they’ve already reported. Her name’s Regina Marco, forty-nine, suffered a stroke five years ago and is an invalid. Probably not a candidate to be an adoptive parent.”
“My dad used to talk about his brother who lived in Detroit,” Alberto said. “But he told me he got shot. I don’t think he had anyone else.”
“Can I talk to you outside?” Andersen asked me.
“I’ll be right back,” I said to Savannah, then followed Andersen out to the back deck. It was early and there wasn’t anyone there yet.
“I didn’t want to say anything in front of the kid,” he said. “But there’s been a lot of gang activity up in Fort Myers. A sudden escalation this week ended up with a lot of dead gangbangers and hookers, so they’re a little back-logged up there.”
“Alberto’s mother was one of them,” I said. “Raped and shot in the head by one of the Lake Boyz gang. I only told him it was the drugs that killed her because he asked if that was what it was. She was murdered.”
He eyed me suspiciously. “I don’t even have the coroner’s report on manner or even cause of death yet. How do you know this?”
“I have ways,” I said. “Remember the driver’s seat in Cobie Murphy’s car?”
He nodded. That seemed to satisfy him.
“I do have one question,” I said. “We’re planning to leave on Monday to go to Bimini and don’t know when we’ll be back. Is that okay with DCF?”
“Probably, but how did you get him a passport so quickly?”
“Still working on that,” I said. “But we should get it by the end of the week.”
“Can you delay your trip if it doesn’t?”
“I can’t,” I said. “I’ll be taking command of a research vessel. But we’d originally planned on Savannah joining me after a two-week shakedown cruise.”
“You’re a commercial captain?” he asked.
“Unlimited tonnage,” I replied. “Ambrosia is a 199-foot former superyacht, converted for oil exploration. If Alberto’s passport doesn’t arrive in time, they can join us at sea, as we’d originally planned.”
“It sounds like you’ve got things all planned out.” He paused a moment. “Are you sure you want to adopt this kid?”
“We’re sure,” I replied. “We didn’t have to discuss it at length—it’s something we both wanted. The truth is, I always wanted a son and have three daughters. And Savannah isn’t ready to stop being a mom just because our kid is grown and gone.”
“I have two,” he said. “Girls that is. Even our dog’s female.”
“Keep me posted on anything you find out from Lee County?”
“I will,” he replied, pulling a pair of wrap-around Costas from his pocket, and putting them on. “Best of luck to you and the wife.”
I stood there a moment as he walked toward the parking lot and climbed in his car. Then I turned and headed back inside. The food had arrived, and Alberto wasn’t waiting.
“What’s cobia?” he asked, as I sat back down. “It’s good.”
“It’s a pelagic fish,” I replied. “That means it swims freely in the ocean, but they do come
