Page 73 of Wild Tempest

Afterward, I toweled off, got dressed, and made myself look presentable. With the change of clothes, I felt like a new man.

My phone buzzed with a call from Tempest.

She sobbed into my ear. "The indictment came down. They charged him with second-degree murder."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I thought I'd handle it better. I've been trying to deal with it all day, but I just can't seem to stop crying.”

"There's well-documented evidence that he was affected by a bio weapon and wasn’t in his right mind. A competent defense attorney may be able to get him off.”

"Yeah, well, I don't know how we’re going to afford a competent defense attorney. I don’t have two nickels to rub together. Dad is apparently broke. Mom is proceeding with the divorce, full speed ahead.”

"I wish there was something I could do.”

She sniffled. "I'm sorry. I just needed someone to vent to. I shouldn’t have called.”

"How's your father taking everything?”

"He’s upset about Owen. They were best friends. He thinks he deserves whatever punishment is coming to him. That freaks me out even more. What if they give him the death penalty?”

"Does he remember shooting Owen?”

"He says everything is a foggy dream. A foggy bad dream.”

I couldn’t help but frown. It was a tough situation.

We talked for a bit, then said our goodbyes.

Jack was in the mood for the Five Fathoms. After our time on the Morya with nothing but canned food, he wanted to indulge a little. I was totally on board.

The crowd was starting to swell for Halloween. The big event was just around the corner. Oyster Avenue would be a madhouse, as usual. Plenty of outrageous costumes, short skirts, high-heeled shoes, and fishnet stockings. Naughty nurses, sexy vampires, and sultry cat girls. The spooky season always had its perks.

JD and I feasted on juicy steaks and knocked back a few adult beverages. We skipped the bars for a change and returned to the Avventura. On the sky deck, we sipped another drink, talking about the cases and the upcoming Wild Fury show. They were scheduled to play the Halloween bash on the strip.

We called it an early night. I crawled into bed with a full belly and a head full of whiskey. Dreams of ghost ships, 17th-century witches, and cartel thugs all blended together. It almost made sense.

Daniels called the next morning with bad news.

44

"Prosecutors are declining to press charges against Harris for murder at this time," Daniels said.

I groaned. "There's plenty enough evidence to make a case.”

"When you two nitwits find a body, this will be a slam dunk.”

"It’s not like we’re not trying.”

"I know." Daniels paused. "I'm guessing that dirtbag will make bail and be out on the street by this afternoon.”

“What about his boat?”

“No blood evidence. He scrubbed it good.”

I told him we’d go out again looking with the towfish.

Martin made bail that afternoon and was all over the news. He maintained his innocence despite video footage of him disturbing a corpse.