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  DEATH BLOW

  A Coastal Suspense Series Book 3

  Emma Rose Watts

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  A Plea

  Newsletter

  About the Author

  Also by Emma Rose Watts

  Copyright © 2018 by Emma Rose Watts

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Death Blow: A Coastal Suspense Series Book 3 is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For my Family

  Prologue

  ALLIGATOR POINT BEACH

  SPRING BREAK

  A warm southern breeze blew inland off the Gulf of Mexico as a golden sun rose over the narrow beach with the promise of another glorious morning. Vacationing for the first time in Florida, the young couple from upstate New York had escaped the tail end of winter with the hope of experiencing spring break in Fort Lauderdale. At the last minute they had opted for a quieter, more romantic spot along the Forgotten Coast.

  It was a little after six forty-five when they ventured out for a brisk walk along the eight miles of quiet shoreline so they could take a few shots of the sun as it peeked above the horizon. A brown pelican wheeled overhead, and a few herring gulls screeched in the distance. The smell of brine, salt and seaweed lingered.

  Tracey White clung to the muscular arm of Logan Matthews as they casually walked barefoot through the soft sand and soaked in the sight of fishermen.

  “I told you this was a much better choice,” she said.

  “Ah I don’t know about that, I was kind of looking forward to doing Jell-O shots, dancing and smoking a few…” He mimicked smoking a joint. Both of them were just shy of twenty-one years of age, hailing from small towns just outside of Watertown, both were studying at the same college and were glad to be away from parents and have some freedom.

  “And get arrested?” she asked.

  “It wouldn’t happen. The cops are used to an invasion of college students every year.”

  “Maybe, but it’s changed a lot. It’s not like it used to be. They have cattle fencing on both sides of the roads now to stop drunk students darting out into traffic, they have signs and posters warning students not to drink on the beaches, and Jill said the cops were everywhere last year. They had a police tent near the end of Las Olas Boulevard. You’re not allowed coolers, rafts, or mobs of people, no tents or tables or even blaring music.”

  Logan frowned. “Oh come on. You really think they are going to be able to impose those kinds of rules?”

  “I’m serious, Logan. We would have been wasting our time. At least here we get to be together.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “We’re always together.”

  She broke away from him with a stern expression. Logan noticed and smiled. “I meant we see each other every day at college.”

  “Yeah but we don’t get much alone time. The dorms are packed, and I don’t have to remind you about last weekend.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Cole didn’t know we were in the room.”

  “But he could have knocked before walking in. I was butt naked.”

  Logan laughed. “Yeah, and he said you had a nice ass. And let’s face it. You do.”

  She slapped him playfully on the arm. “Oh no you don’t. You don’t squirm out of it like that.” She walked ahead with her arms crossed and Logan raced up and spanked her behind before laughing and backing away from her. Tracey let out a squeal and pursed her lips with a grin on her face. Logan spent the next few minutes playfully dodging until he wrapped his arms around her and they stood there on the white-sand beach enjoying the solitude and newness of their relationship. Logan ran his hands through her hair and was just about to ask where she wanted to go for breakfast when he spotted a dark mound in the distance. As the sun was not completely up, shadows from moss-draped oak trees and patches of seagrass made it hard to see.

  “What’s that?”

  Tracey turned out of his arms and squinted into the distance.

  “I hope that’s not an alligator.”

  He laughed. “Alligators are freshwater animals, you won’t see one down here.”

  “Oh yeah, then why’s it called Alligator Point?”

  Logan shook his head. “No idea.” He broke away from her heading for the mound.

  “Logan. Let’s just go.”

  “No, I want to see what it is,” he said.

  Tracey looked nervously over her shoulder.

  “It’s okay, just wait here,” he said breaking into a jog. The sand slipped beneath his feet as he hurried over to take a closer look. As he got nearer, his pulse started to race. Squinting at the dark mound, his mind eventually processed what he was looking at. Sprawled out on the ground, motionless and wearing nothing more than a pair of shorts was a white male, early twenties.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  He got a little closer and that’s when his eyes fell upon the bloodied hole in his back, then he saw a crab scuttle over the body, and flies hovering around. Tracey hurried over, her feet pounding the sand. Logan whirled around to shield her eyes but it was too late. The second she saw the dead body, she let out a harrowing scream that cut through tranquility like a knife.

  Chapter 1

  CARRABELLE

  Seven thirty in the damn morning! Who the hell plays music at this time? Skylar Reid tucked a pillow around her head trying to silence the steady boom of a bass with incomprehensible rap lyrics. She was pretty certain she’d heard it the night before but in her drunken state her memory was a little foggy. However now it was loud and clear, it was coming from her neighbor’s boat. She counted to ten under her breath trying to control her desire to grab her service weapon and unload a few rounds into the air. Upon reaching ten it hadn’t worked. She threw back the covers, and bounded out of bed wearing nothing more than a pair of black underpants and bra. Skylar eyed her Glock on the table but opted to show restraint. Her partner Harvey had been on her case about not being so trigger-happy, as had Captain Davenport and her therapist Ben Walker — not that she’d had much success but she was trying, trying to adapt to the sleepy way of life in Carrabelle.

  She scanned the ground looking at the trail of clothes she’d peeled out of the night before, a couple of items didn’t look like hers, in fact they belonged to a male. So distracted by the noise of the music she didn’t think to look over her shoulder at the mound on the other side of the bed. Instead, Skylar scooped up a shirt and slipped into it then padded up to the deck trying to get a bead on the source of the sorry excuse for music. Off the starboard bow was a 60-foot yacht, the kind of high-end vessel that only the rich could afford, it loomed over Scot’s like an overbearing bully. On the deck were four scantily clad college girls in bikinis with oversized breasts and sun-kissed skin. They were holding beer bottles while seductively swaying to the rhythm of
the hideous tune. Among the group were two males, early twenties, bare chested, wearing baseball caps, sunglasses and shorts, and grinding up behind the women.

  “Hey!” She yelled and waved but they didn’t notice.

  Skylar blew out her cheeks, and hopped onto the wooden dock more determined than ever to put an end to this ensemble of morons. She made her way around to their slip even more pissed than before. “Hey, you want to keep it down?” she hollered. As she got close, one of the males, a tattooed guy who looked as if he’d been carved from granite and was living on daddy’s credit cards, stepped close to the edge and cupped a hand around his ear. “What?”

  She yelled again but her voice was lost in heavy bass.

  The jock turned and waved to one of his buddies and thumbed down. The guy staggered into the cockpit and shut the music off. Tattoo guy turned back to her. “Want to join us?”

  “No, look, I’m all for having a fun time. But I’m gonna need you to keep it down. It’s seven thirty in the goddamn morning.”

  “And it’s spring break,” he replied. “Time to get our groove on!”

  He chest bumped one of his buddies and laughed before taking another swig of his beer.

  “Well you’re going to have to get your groove on farther down the coast. Might I suggest Fort Lauderdale or Daytona, I hear they’re sweet spots.”

  The guy smirked at her.

  “How about you step aboard and join us?” He eyed her up and down and it was only then she realized she should have thrown on a pair of pants. “There is always room for more ladies. Am I right?” His buddy slapped him on the back.

  “Yeah, well, I’ll keep that in mind. Now if you want to keep it down. That would be real nice.”

  “Sure thing.”

  She turned and walked away and he wolf whistled at her. Had that been the only thing he’d done she might have let it slide. Skylar hadn’t made it halfway back to her boat when they cranked up the volume again, this time even louder. She stopped in her tracks and balled her hand. “Right. So that’s how it’s going to be.”

  Without wasting another minute she made a beeline for the Vagabond, the quaint waterside café owned by Donnie Wu. Still wearing the same getup she burst through the door to the bewilderment and surprise of three patrons who had just finished ordering coffees.

  “Donnie, I need you to whip up one of your special brews.”

  He flung a cloth over his shoulder and leaned forward across the counter. “Skylar, how delightful to see you. I mean, really see you.” His eyes bugged out and she looked down at herself again. “Seems a little early to be going sunbathing though, or has Franklin County done away with their uniforms?”

  “Oh, right, yeah, this? Look, it doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is dealing with a little neighborhood disturbance.”

  “Carl playing his banjo again?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Edith smoking a fat doobie?”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s far worse.”

  “Far worse?”

  “Frat boys.”

  He rocked his head back. “Ah, spring break. Right.” He then got this confused look on his face. “Hold on a minute, aren’t they a little far from the action?”

  She threw up a hand. “That’s exactly what I told them. And if they start a new tradition up here, you know what that means?”

  “More customers?”

  “No, Donnie, it means cleaning up puke outside your café.”

  “Strange. I already do that.”

  His reply confused her for a second then it sank in. “Hey, that was a one-off.”

  He narrowed his eyes, so she clarified. “Okay, three times but they shouldn’t make the dock so long.”

  He chuckled. “Okay, okay, what did you have in mind?”

  “Well I figure these clowns are going to have one hell of a hangover after all the alcohol they’re consuming. So perhaps we can assist them with a special brew. Something that might clear out the cobwebs and reset their system from the toll that so many spring breaks have had on them?”

  He cupped his chin, tapping his finger against his lips, then clicked his finger. “I have just the thing. Oh they are going to love this coffee. It’s a nutty roast, with just a hint of sweetness. I’ll be right back.”

  Five minutes later Skylar ambled down the dock with two trays of coffees, heading for the thump of music. Tattoo guy eyed her and flashed his pearly whites. The music dropped and he leaned over the steel railing of the boat. “And what do we have here?” he asked.

  “A gift,” Skylar said. “I figure we got off to a bad start. Just my way of saying, welcome to the neighborhood.”

  “Right on!”

  She handed over the trays and walked away with a look of glee in her eye. As Skylar boarded her boat, she watched tattoo guy hand out the brews and heard them crank the music up. She glanced at her watch and turned on the countdown timer. “And go!” As numbers spun she headed down into the cabin to get ready for work.

  Skylar scooped up clothes and made her way back to the bed only to find a naked man lying on the other side. He stirred at the sound of her and twisted over giving her an eyeful.

  “Well hello darling,” he said. He had dark hair, blue eyes and was sculpted like a Greek god. Her memory was shot. She could vaguely recall a conversation; jokes, lots of drinks and her inviting him back. A few more flashes of her ripping his top off and him unbuttoning her jeans and then the rest just as murky as a Florida swamp.

  She grimaced. “Uh, about last night.”

  “Yeah, you were amazing.”

  “Not that.”

  “Oh, I see. Look, don’t worry, I remember the rules.”

  “You do?”

  He groaned, stretched, then rolled off the bed. Still naked he ambled over and she backed up a little. Her pulse sped up. He took his clothes out of her hands with a smirk on his face. “Yeah, rule number one, no personal questions. Rule number two, no names, and rule number three, no second date. I get it.”

  “You do?”

  He flashed his teeth and slipped into his briefs, yanking them up. “Yeah, I’m down with that. It’s all good. Though I will say, the sex last night was out of this world. At least until you fell asleep on top of me.”

  She frowned as he flung his shirt on and got close like he was about to kiss her.

  “I’ll be seeing you around.” He winked and grabbed her butt before walking away.

  Skylar stood there for a few seconds, slightly shocked. Her eyes flitted over to a photo of her boyfriend Alex, a wave of guilt came over her and she might have lingered there had it not been for her watch alerting her with several loud beeps.

  Almost on cue, she heard the music shut off and the sound of several people throwing up. She smiled. It was like music to her ears.

  That morning inside the Baker household, Harvey sat at the breakfast table with pancake syrup in one hand and college brochures in the other hand. Syrup flowed out covering his pancakes while he looked on in horror at the cost of college.

  “A hundred thousand? What the hell are they giving you? I wouldn’t mind but we are talking about an education that might not amount to anything. So do you get a Ferrari with that degree?”

  “Harvey. Harvey!” Elizabeth said before snatching the syrup out of his hand. He snapped back into the present moment and looked down to find his entire plate covered in sticky golden liquid. Some of it had spilled over and was dripping onto his pants.

  “Oh man, and these were my decent pants.” The chair screeched as he got up and dabbed the front with a napkin.

  “I’ll grab you another pair,” Elizabeth said.

  “Don’t bother. They are all in the wash.”

  “But you have six pairs.”

  “And I have a crazy partner who dragged me through the backwoods and swamp twice over the past week. Then there was the coffee she spilled in my lap, and the mustard that dripped yesterday. Look, I’ll just clean these with a wet cloth
and see if I can dry them with a hair dryer.” He grumbled as he marched away leaving the stack of brochures on the counter. He couldn’t believe how expensive colleges had become. It was a money grab, nothing more than a filthy attempt by the government to enslave youngsters before they started their lives. No wonder so many suffered from depression, anxiety and addiction — they were buried below debt. It was insane.

  Elizabeth called out to him from the kitchen. “Which reminds me, did you remember to invite her for dinner?”

  “Of course but she says her weekends are packed.”

  “Doing what?”

  “That’s what I said,” he replied. “She mumbles something and changes the topic.”

  “I worry about her, Harvey. Can’t be good being cooped up on that boat.”

  “You’re preaching at the choir, Elizabeth. I’ve already had this conversation with her. Skylar is a hardhead.”

  “Maybe she just needs some incentive.”

  “Oh please, don’t try any of your matchmaking ways, you know how that worked out the last time we got involved with that matchmaking service in town.” He mumbled under his breath about the wealthy having more money than sense. Harvey doused his pant leg near his crotch with water and rubbed it hard with a towel before attempting to dry it with the hair dryer. While he was doing that his phone started buzzing. He fished it out and glanced at the ID. It was Deputy Jevaun Reznik. He hit accept and switched on speakerphone so he could concentrate on his pants.

  “Baker, you sound like you’re at an airport or in a wind tunnel. What the hell are you doing?”

  “Using a hair dryer.”

  “But you hardly have any hair.”

  “Hilarious. What is it?”

  “I’ve got a stiffy.”

  “What?” he shot back, his brow furrowing.

  “A dead body, down at Alligator Point Beach.”

  “All right, I’ll be there in ten.”

  Harvey turned off the dryer and looked at the obvious stain on the front of his pants. He could already hear Hanson and Reznik yukking it up at his expense the moment they laid eyes on it. He sighed. It would have to do. He placed a quick call to Skylar leaving a message on her voicemail and then headed out.