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  DARK MARSH

  THE LOWCOUNTRY MYSTERY SERIES: BOOK THREE

  David Banner

  Published by Golden Pineapple Publishing.

  Copyright 2017 by David Banner.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance or similarity to any person, place, or event is purely coincidental. While I try my best to keep the geography of the beautiful state of South Carolina correct, some of the places in this work are fictional. No part of this book is to be reproduced without author consent.

  Other Books By David Banner

  The Lowcountry Mystery Series

  Dead South

  Palmetto Gone

  The Dangerous Waters Thriller Series

  Echoes From The Water

  Secrets In The Breeze

  Dead On The Docks

  Shadows In The Gulf

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  Chapter One

  There was no denying that Jillian Hathaway was beautiful in any scenario. But under the moonlight and with the Atlantic breeze flowing through her long hair, her beauty was enough to stop traffic. At least in the eyes of her ex-husband. The table was sparse, with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans, none of which tasted the best. But cooking was never something Ryan Devereux claimed to be great at.

  That didn’t matter, though. Ryan just wanted a few hours alone with the woman who for so much of his youth had been the focus of his life and his love. Soon, she would take her second walk down the aisle, except this time, Ryan wouldn’t meet her at the end. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he was going to attend. The thought of watching her swear love to another man just didn’t seem like something he was too keen on hearing.

  “What’s the matter?” Jillian asked, her shimmering pink lips catching the moonlight. “You haven’t said anything in a few minutes, and you look lost in your head.”

  “I was just thinking . . .” Ryan muttered, keeping his eyes turned to the plate of almost-flavorful chicken in front of him. “I should have ordered out.”

  “I miss this chicken.” She smiled, cutting into the meat. “It reminds me of another time, another us.”

  In the beginning, it was Ryan who cooked for Jillian. He wasn’t good at it by any stretch of the imagination, but she was worse. At least back then. In the years following their divorce, though, it seemed she’d become pretty good in the kitchen. If it were another time, he would have asked her to make a pot of beef stroganoff while he stood next to her in the kitchen, making small talk.

  This was no normal night though. This was, for lack of a better word, Jillian’s farewell dinner. She wasn’t technically going anywhere, of course, but in only a few short days, she’d belong to another man, at least in the eyes of the Lord and the law. Her new fiancé, Thomas, had some lavish honeymoon planned where he was going to whisk her away to some tropical island Ryan had never even heard of. Something Ryan wasn’t able to do.

  They were young back then, far too young to dream of something so elaborate, something so out of the bounds of reason. Hell, they could barely put food on the table for that first year. It wasn’t until Ryan had finally managed to get a job as a beat-cop that he actually made it through the night without nightmares.

  “What about Carly?” Ryan asked. “Is she going with you?”

  “Yes,” Jillian replied. “I thought about letting her stay with one of my girlfriends, but two weeks is a long time to leave a rebellious teenager anywhere.”

  “She can stay with me.” Ryan looked into his wife’s deep ocean-blue eyes.

  “She’s so problematic right now, and with you working, it’s just easier if I take her along. Besides, I’m thinking maybe some time away from everything may do her some good,” Jillian said, taking a slow sip of champagne.

  “Whatever you think.”

  For a moment, he wondered how happy his ex-wife truly was. He’d seen her in almost every mood a person can have. He knew her face, the way it rested, the way it looked when she thought no one was watching, and the way it looked then, her lips pursed like when she was worried.

  “I got you something,” Ryan said, pulling a small box from his jacket pocket. “You needed something new, right?” He placed it on the table in front of her.

  “Ry . . .” She looked at him, her eyes wide and inviting. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I wanted to,” he said, watching her open the small box. “I never got the chance to do this kind of thing much back in the day.”

  “They’re beautiful.” She held the earrings in the air. White gold and sparkling diamonds reflected the moonlight and the waves, dancing around in her hand as if they were on fire.

  “I wanted you to have something worthy of framing that face. It’s too beautiful for just anything.”

  “They’re too expensive.” She placed them back in the box and slid it across the table.

  “Doesn’t matter.” Ryan grabbed the box, stood from his seat, and walked behind her. He slowly moved her long hair aside, revealing the perfect nape of her neck, her intoxicating perfume rising up and meeting his nose. “I want you to have them.” Ryan slowly placed an earring in one ear, then the other. His hands rested on her shoulders for a moment.

  “You haven’t touched me like that in years.” Jillian’s head tilted to the side, her words dancing across the crisp ocean air. “I’d forgotten how warm your hands are, how strong.”

  Ryan leaned in, massaging her shoulders, letting himself get lost in the familiar heat of her skin. He’d once loved her so much, more than he ever thought possible. And truth be told, he still did. Jillian meant everything to him. They’d made mistakes, but here, under the Carolina sky with nothing but ocean around them, it didn’t seem to matter.

  “I miss you,” Ryan said softly.

  “I miss you too.” She placed her hand atop his, slowly gliding her fingers up his arm and onto his neck as she turned to meet his eyes with hers. Her soft, warm lips pressed slightly against his as her breath, hot and sweet, caressed his face.

  Ryan’s hands found their way through her thick hair, pulling her head in closer as he kissed her harder. For a moment, it was as though nothing had changed. The tangled history of their indiscretions seemed to just melt away, lost in the Lowcountry heat.

  “Wait . . .” She pulled away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “We shouldn’t. I have Thomas, and you have Michelle. It wouldn’t be fair.”

  Ryan’s heart raced, his cheeks red and flushed with desire. He steadied himself. She was right. They shouldn’t be doing this, and he knew it, but there was something between them, something hard to ignore and impossible to deny, desire, passion, heat, and love, each one melting into the next, creating a perfect storm of passion between them.

  “You’re right,” Ryan said. “I’m sorry.”

  Ryan stepped toward the ship’s wheel. He fired up the engine and headed for shore. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t even embarrassment. It was something else that guided him along the ocean that night. The feeling that maybe the past could be mended. Maybe the woman he’d sworn to love until death could have been his again if only he’d acted sooner.

  Maybe it was a childish thing to believe, that love could conquer all and win out in the end, and Lord knows, Ryan wasn’t the type to live in a fantasy. But with as much history that existed between the two, he wondered if just this once, life really could be that way.

  “I’m sorry too.” Jillian stepped behind him, her long white dress catching the wind.

  He kept his eyes forward, trying his best not to look at the woman who held such a place in his heart, trying his best not feel her next to him. He was afraid, afraid that if he looked at her, if he felt her skin agains
t his, he wouldn’t be able to pull back, not now. Not again.

  The night melted away as they slowly sailed close to his beloved Carolina shore. The night air rushed through the boat, passing between them like daggers piercing the palpable tension that seemed to hold so tightly between them. He wanted to touch her, to hold her. Now, he had proof she wanted the same thing.

  They were only a short distance from shore when Ryan noticed the car parked near where he normally berthed his houseboat. The car was running, with its bright headlights breaking through the dark coastal night. For a moment, there was no movement, no signs of life other than the burning headlights.

  But as Ryan’s boat slowed to a stop, the car door opened and out stepped a tall, burly man. His steps were slow and steady as he made his way closer to Ryan’s boat. Instinctually, the detective grabbed for his gun, checking to make sure it was loaded. Any other day, he wouldn’t have been so on edge, but with Jillian by his side, the need to protect her took over. The feeling was at once familiar and new, like a jacket you’d forgotten you owned after the summer heat, only to discover it again the next winter.

  “Wait here,” Ryan said to Jillian as he stepped onto the dock to meet the stranger.

  “Be careful.” Jillian grabbed his hand, her fingers intertwining with his own. He turned back to her, stopping for a moment to once again look at the beauty of her soft features and the sweetness in her smile.

  “Hello.” The man stepped closer.

  Chapter Two

  “My name is Jake Rhodes,” he said, extending his hand to meet Ryan’s. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Not always a good thing to hear,” Ryan said. “What can I do for you, Mr. Rhodes?”

  Jake Rhodes was a fairly large man, with dark brown eyes and slicked-back brown hair. He wore dark-wash blue jeans and a white shirt with a green puffer vest. For Ryan, it was a bit early in the year for such attire, but to each their own, right? The detective looked back to his ex-wife, nodding his head for her to step off the boat and join him.

  It was one of the good things about being a detective. Just a few minutes speaking to a person and Ryan could usually tell if they meant trouble. In this case, Jake Rhodes seemed about as innocent as a baby. Southern in his mannerisms and inflection, Ryan found the man easy to talk to, a gentle giant, for lack of better phrasing.

  “It’s about my father, actually,” he said, leaning against a large wooden post. “Some years ago” —he cleared his throat— “there was a murder out on what used to be called ‘Lovers’ Lane’. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it. A young couple was gunned down while sitting in their car.”

  “I know of the case,” Ryan replied. “They found your father guilty after some time.”

  “Yes,” Jake said. “After my mother turned him in. It took her five years to do it.”

  The truth was that Ryan didn’t know much about the case. He’d read the file, and he even remembered hearing about it when he was young, but like all kids in those days, police work didn’t interest him too much.

  “What is it that you think I can help you with?” Ryan asked.

  “He’s innocent.” Jake looked into Ryan’s eyes. “My father. He’s innocent. He didn’t kill that couple.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “After he was arrested, my mother took my brother and me and moved us out of town. Up to Kill Devil Hills in North Carolina,” Jake said, his eyes fluttering to Jillian for a moment, then back to Ryan. “She changed our last names, cut off all ties with my dad. I spent years hating him for what he’d done. But then . . .”

  “Yes?” Ryan asked.

  “My mother . . . she’s not a normal mother. I began to see a different side of her. Something dark and devious. The more I read up on the case, the less sense it makes that he did it and the more sense it makes that she framed him.”

  A spouse framing another for a crime wasn’t unheard of in law enforcement, not even in the usually peaceful Lowcountry. But usually, when it happened, there was some kind of glaring error, something they’d forgotten to cover up along the way, a tell.

  “What makes you think your mother framed him?” Ryan asked.

  “I have my reasons . . .” the man said, obviously holding something back.

  “I need to know those reasons,” Ryan said. “If you expect me to help you, then there needs to be probable cause, a reason for the actions she may have taken.” Ryan wasn’t sure whether the man was right, but he knew one thing. Jake Rhodes believed his own words. That much was obvious.

  “Maybe we could talk about that a little later.” Jake’s eyes flashed to Jillian once again.

  “Has your father appealed his conviction?” Ryan asked, interlocking his fingers with Jillian’s.

  “Yes.” Jake sighed. “Many times. He’s exhausted all of them. He can’t appeal it anymore. That’s why I’m here. That’s why we need your help, Mr. Devereux.”

  “I’m a cold-case detective.” Ryan squeezed Jillian’s hand, pressing her warm palm against his. “Your father’s case was solved. It took a little while, yes, but it was solved nevertheless. I work cases that have no resolution.”

  “What about wrongful conviction?” Jake’s eyes grew wide, his cheeks flushing with emotion. “My dad has spent twenty years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Is that justice?”

  “It isn’t for me to say,” Ryan said. “He was found guilty. A group of people heard the arguments and saw the evidence, and they found him guilty. That’s how justice happens here.”

  “They didn’t!” Jake snapped. “They didn’t hear the evidence. There was something else, something bigger than the handprint. Something that could have saved him. I know it!”

  “Handprint?”

  “The side of the car . . .” said the burly man. “There was a partial palm print found near the window. Originally, they said they didn’t know who it belonged to. Then, suddenly, four years later, they came back and said it was a match for my father.”

  “Have you contacted a private detective?” Ryan asked.

  “Several,” Jake said. “They can’t get anywhere. The files . . . I don’t know. It’s an old case. But you. I read about you. I heard what you did for that girl in the prom dress. You’re good at digging things from the marsh. I know the truth of my father’s innocence is out there somewhere, and I know you can find it. Please, help me!”

  “What do you think?” Ryan looked at Jillian.

  The dashboard lights of his police cruiser reflected against her shiny lipstick as the two made their way down the seaside roads of Charleston and toward her home. She would head up the stairs, take a shower, and lie in a bed next to man who wasn’t him. Someone else’s hands would caress her body, someone else would breathe her in, the dark and mysterious smell of her lotion filling the bedroom, calling out to him to touch her. He hated to think about it, to think about Thomas Kent and his sickeningly sweet grin.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “He seems like a nice guy. He’s hurting. You can see it all over him. I hate to see people going through something like that. I can’t imagine of it was someone I cared about. I’d do everything I could too.”

  “But the man is already behind bars.” Ryan came to a stop at a crossroads. “I’d be opening a closed investigation on nothing more than the theory of a grieving son.”

  “But what if he’s right?” Jillian asked. “It’s like he said. What kind of justice is that?”

  There were so many reasons not to go down this road, not to go digging where he had no business digging, but something about Jillian’s words, about the look on her face when she spoke them, made him want to try.

  “I’ll give it a look.” Ryan smiled, pressing his foot on the accelerator.

  It was nice, being alone with her like this. But with her house less than two miles away, Ryan knew their sweet night had to end, though not before he said one final thing, not before he told her how much she meant to him and that what had almost happen
ed on his houseboat wasn’t anything the two should be ashamed of. After all, with as much history between them, it was only natural they would find themselves drawn together.

  “Jill.” He pulled into her driveway. “About tonight—”

  “No.” She pressed her index finger against his lips. “We don’t need to say anything. It’s all been said before. I love you, Ryan. I always will.” She stepped out of the car, disappearing through her front door.

  Ryan’s car hummed quietly in the driveway for what seemed like forever as he watched his former wife walk back and forth through her house. It was a simple thing, something she did every night. But to Ryan Devereux, it was a wonderful sight. Jillian’s long red silk robe caught wind behind her as she went from room to room, tidying up and turning off lights.

  He wasn’t spying, not really. She knew he was there, watching her. It was harmless, just a little something to make him feel better, just a little something to bring back the past, even if only for another moment. Ryan shook his head and rubbed his eyes. He had to leave, to go back home and let the Atlantic waves carry him off into a restful slumber. Come the morning, things would be different. He wouldn’t think about Jillian, not in the same way. He would make sure of it. They had lives to live and new people to love. For Ryan and Jillian, there was more history than future. He knew that.

  Chapter Three

  The strong aromatic punch of Kit’s black coffee filled the air as Ryan stepped into their shared office. It was a large space, with a wonderful view of the water, one Ryan found himself staring out at on more than a few occasions. But today, he had something else on his mind. He couldn’t help but think about the visit he’d received from Jake Rhodes the night before. The desperation in the man’s voice just seemed to stick with him as he lay in bed listening to the call of the water.

  “What’s that?” Kit asked, seeing the large casefile he’d scooped up on his way in.