Ford raised a brow. “How’d they tie into a marina?”
“It wasn’t the marina,” Nate said. “It was a federal pilot program. After a bad hurricane season, FEMA funded something called the Weston-Haywood Lake Coastal Resilience Project.
“The state administered it. The counties executed it,” he went on. “The Weston family came in with matching funds, land access, and a whole lot of local pull. Their name went on everything.”
“What kind of infrastructure?” asked Finn.
“Emergency supply storage units,” Nate replied. “Food, ice, water, first-aid kits. Placed all along Haywood Lake’s evacuation routes, marinas, back roads, anywhere people might get stranded. Every unit logged. Every location mapped.”
“And the county just left them there?” Titus asked.
“Pretty much,” Nate replied. “Once the grant money dried up, maintenance stopped. Most are rusted shut. A couple are half-buried. Hell, the one I found looked like it hadn’t been opened in thirty years.”
Caleb tilted his head. “Why put emergency lockers in the woods?”
“Publicity,” Nate said. “Big name on a flashy project, then the whole thing dies the minute the cameras leave.”
“So just random metal boxes out there?” Finn asked.
“Not random.” Nate said. “Just forgotten.” He smirked. “They were built to withstand hurricanes and stay sealed. You get locked inside one of those now, no one’s hearing you. Hell, most people don’t even remember they exist.”
“Sounds charming,” Caleb said.
What a waste of money. Man, if he ever had that kind of money, he’d put it to use helping people. Not leave a steel box rotting in the woods.
“Here’s to the Florida version of wilderness,” Nate replied, lifting his beer. “Gators, snakes, abandoned marinas and storm lockers no one remembers.”
“Welcome to paradise,” quipped Finn.
The guys clinked glasses.
Norah passed by with a tray heading for another table, then drifted back toward the bar. Owen came out carrying a tray stacked with empties. He paused at their booth.
“You boys doing okay?”
“Good so far,” Titus said.
Owen nodded. “Food’ll be up in a few.”
He glanced toward Norah wiping down a high top. “If you need anything, flag her down. Girl’s a hard worker. Picks up shifts fast, doesn’t complain and keeps the drunks under control.” He huffed a laugh. “Wish I had three more like her.”
Caleb followed his gaze.
“Oh, she mentioned looking for extra gigs. Side work. Serving, bartending, whatever pays honest. If you boys hear of anything, send it her way.”
“Will do,” Caleb said.
Owen nodded and headed off.
Ford took a long swallow of beer and then set it down. “Extra gigs, huh? She looks tired as it is.”
“Times are tough,” Titus murmured.
But Caleb wasn’t thinking about that. He was thinking about Mia. How she seemed to be scrambling to find last-minute help. Norah fit the bill.
He tucked the thought away.
CHAPTER 12
