“Percy,” the Sheriff said. “Pipe down and let Creed tell his story.”
Percy nodded. I said, “In return for not looting the town or harassing their womenfolk, the people of St. Alban’s gave Hawley and his men refuge from the Governor of Florida and the British Navy.”
“And then one day,” the Sheriff prodded.
“And then one day the governor of Florida offered a reward: one hundred pounds for the capture of Jack Hawley, and twenty pounds for each of his men. The people of St. Alban’s conspired to capture Hawley and his crew while they were on shore leave and claim the reward. They enlisted the help of some soldiers from Amelia Island, but Hawley somehow learned about the scheme, and quelled the land attack. Then his ship was attacked at sea by the governor’s navy, but Hawley’s crew defeated them as well. After the battle, Hawley pointed his cannons at the town of St. Alban’s and threatened to decimate it”
“Those were our forefathers,” Percy said, and the Sheriff nodded. We all sat quiet for a few minutes, putting ourselves back in time. Finally the Sheriff said, “You know the rest? Why Hawley spared the town?”
“I know the legend,” I said. “A teenager named Abby Winter offered to give herself to Hawley if he agreed to spare the town.”
“Prettiest girl in town,” Percy said.
Sheriff said, “And he took her up on it.”
I said, “Hawley kept his word, and that’s how he got the name Gentleman Jack Hawley.”
Sheriff said, “I think he got the name because of the gentleman’s agreement he had with the town before that incident.”
I said, “Well, whatever.”
The Sheriff said, “The point is, the town carried the guilt of Abby’s sacrifice for the next three hundred years.”
“Three hundred years of bad luck,” Percy added.
“Which brings us to present day,” I said.
“Which is why we’re sitting in the scrub with a major problem,” the Sheriff said. “Any idea what that problem might be?”
“I’ve got a good idea,” I said.
“Thought you might. But let’s hear you say it.”
“I think the people of St. Alban’s decided to change their luck about a year ago.”
“How’s that?” Percy said.
“A girl named Libby Vail happened to mention on TV that she was a direct descendent of Jack Hawley the pirate. Someone in St. Alban’s heard about it, captured her, and a large part of the town is keeping her prisoner somewhere and using her disappearance to boost tourism.”
“Well, that ain’t exactly true,” Percy said. He waited to see if his boss would shush him, but the Sheriff seemed lost in his thoughts. Percy added, “The thing is, the town was cursed. Hawley cursed the town, and it required the blood of his blood to reverse the curse. The tourism thing is just a side benefit.”
“So you would have kidnapped her anyway?”
“Those that did would have.”
“And you support it.”
“Wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Percy said.
“Is the whole town in on it?”
The sheriff said, “The descendants are. Percy and I are descendants. The other deputies don’t know.”
“What about the gang bangers in the diner?”
“They aren’t our blood.”
“Then why were you working with them?”
Percy laughed. “We aren’t working with them. We were protecting them. From you!”
I looked at the Sheriff. “You know who I am?”
“Ran a check on you.”
“You found me through a police check?”
“Not exactly. When we ran the check a guy named Darwin got in touch.”
I smiled. Darwin is my Homeland Security boss, my facilitator.
The Sheriff continued. “According to Darwin, you could buy this whole town. Or kill it, if you wanted to.”
“And you believe him?”
“Got no reason to believe him, or not to. And don’t care to find out either way.”
“How many of you are descendants?”
The Sheriff and Percy looked at each other. Sheriff said, “What, eighty?”
“Maybe eighty,” Percy said.
