“Good evening.” The man’s gravelly voice held no emotion. He took a chair from a nearby table and sat down. “Miss Halsey.” He nodded to Avery, whose face reddened as she whispered a soft hello.
“My name is Charles Meade,” he said to Dane and Bones, ignoring Angel. “I am the sheriff and, as such, it is my duty to keep the peace.” The man’s calm demeanor and articulate speech took Dane by surprise— he’d been expecting an older version of Rodney.
“Everything’s peaceful around here,” Bones said, his tone easy.
“That is gratifying.” Meade steepled his fingers and his gaze turned flinty. “But I understand that was not the case only a short while ago. I need to see your identification, please.”
Dane, Bones, and Angel all produced identification, but Meade declined Angel’s proffered driver’s license with a flick of his index finger.
“Only the gentlemen, please.” He examined the licenses. “Dane Maddock and Uriah Bonebrake,” he pronounced, like a principal calling unruly students into his office. Dane saw Avery glance at Bones when Meade read his name. Bones hated his birth name. “You are a long way from home, gentlemen.”
“That’s not a crime, Sheriff,” Dane said. “As I’m sure you’re aware.”
“But aggravated assault is a crime, Mister Maddock. As I’m certain you are aware. I don’t know what your relationship is with Miss Halsey, but I can assure you I do not condone beating up ex-boyfriends.”
Avery started to argue, but Meade silenced her with a cold glance.
“You and your friend provoked a fight with my son. Were it not for the presence of his friends, his injuries might have been even worse.”
Now it was Dane’s turn to quiet Avery. Meade thought the game was his, but Dane held the trump card. He had to play it just right, though.
“I assume you’ve taken statements from witnesses?” Dane said.
“Of course.” Meade smiled, leaned back in his chair, and folded his arms across his chest.
“Witnesses other than your son’s friends, I mean,”
Meade shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“They all tell the same story. Rodney and Miss Halsey were talking out their differences. You interrupted, my son spoke rudely to you, and the two of you attacked him. His friends pulled you off, both of them sustaining injuries in the process.”
“Well, allow me to retort,” Bones said, quoting a line from his favorite movie, Pulp Fiction.
“Did your son and his friends tell you he was manhandling Avery?” Angel snapped, cutting across Bones’ rebuttal with one of her own. “I tried to get her away from him, and was forced to defend myself when one of his friends grabbed me. Or do you condone violence against women in this county?”
“That is not the story as I heard it.” Meade’s voice remained calm but Dane did not miss the annoyed glance he shot at Rodney, who, beneath his mask of bruises, wore a guilty expression. “Can you produce witnesses to support your version of events?”
“You’ve got four witnesses sitting right here,” Bones said. “Two of them decorated veterans of the United States Navy.”
“You’re not in the States, Mister Bonebrake. In any case, your ribbons and medals hold no sway in my county.” Meade looked around the table. “Do you have any unbiased witnesses who can support you?”
“You know everyone in this county is afraid to testify against Rodney,” Avery said,” because they’re afraid of you.”
“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Meade said. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you gentlemen to come with me. Please know I have deputies waiting outside should you resist.” His smile indicated he welcomed the thought.
“You’re an elected official, aren’t you, Sheriff?” Dane asked. The question stopped Meade as he rose, his bottom hovering a few inches above the chair.
“Why do you ask?”
“I take it you have not yet reviewed the security video.”
Meade eased back into his chair.
“The video confirms our story. The owner was kind enough to make a digital clip of the incident and email it to me. I’d rather not post it online and send links to the local news outlets.” From the corner of his eye, Dane saw Rodney shuffle away from his father, who had gone stock-still. “Let’s be realistic,” Dane said. “We both have the power to make trouble for each other, but why bother.” He hardened his voice. “I’ve been in all kinds of battles, Sheriff Meade, and one thing I’ve learned; it’s better to avoid them whenever you can.”
Meade was intelligent enough to see reason.
“Clearly I was misinformed. But next time you have a problem with someone, let the authorities deal with it. That is our job, not yours.”
Angel looked like she was itching to make a sarcastic comment, but Dane nudged her under the table.
“We will,” Dane said. “Thank you for hearing us out.”
Meade nodded to the ladies and beat as fast a retreat as dignity would permit.
“I can’t believe him!” Angel said. “Like it’s so easy to stop and call the cops when some guy’s got his hands all over you.”
“We let him save face,” Dane explained. “That way, maybe he’ll stay out of our hair.”
Angel thought for a moment, then nodded. “You know, you’re a lot smarter than Bones gives you credit for.”
Dane grinned and called the server over for another round of drinks. Their meals arrived, and they passed an easy hour of beer, seafood, and conversation. Angel, who had joined Crazy Charlie’s island work crew at the last minute, steered the conversation away from Kidd’s treasure, asking about the history of Oak Island and its fabled Money Pit.
“It all goes back to 1795,” Avery began, when a young man found an old block and tackle hanging above a depression in the earth. This area was thick with pirates back in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, and kids around here grew up hearing stories of buried treasure. So, the young man came back with some friends and they started digging. Within a few feet, they hit a layer of flagstones. Not a layer of natural rock, but actual, hewn stones. They kept digging, but kept hitting wooden platforms at regular intervals. That, plus the pick marks on the sides of the shaft made it obvious to them they were dealing with something man-made.”
“Now the story rings a bell,” Angel said. “I hadn’t put that particular legend together with our project. Bones was always more into legends than I was. If I recall, since that first discovery, treasure hunters have tried to excavate the shaft but, no matter how deep they go, they just hit more platforms.”
“Correct. And the pit keeps flooding,” Avery said. “The island is filled with underground channels.”
“Which is where we come in,” Bones said. “Charlie wants us to locate every channel we can find and see if any appear to be man-made.”
“Which they don’t,” Dane added.
Bones nodded. “He also wants to see if they can be sealed and the water drained out.”
“No one’s tried it before?” Angel asked.
“They have, but they’ve always failed.” Avery shook her head.
“So why keep trying? It sounds like an impossible task. Has anyone found a single bit of treasure?” Angel’s brow was knotted and she pursed her lips. “Have we signed up for a wild goose chase?”
“A few things have been found over the years.” Avery stiffened and raised her voice. “Seafaring-related artifacts, bits of gold chain, parchment, and, of course, the stone.”
“What stone?” Angel asked.