“My mom loved your soup.” Trent reached out, took her hand, and smiled.
“My dad taught me how to make that. It’s not hard when you toss everything in one of those InstaPots.”
"You know what he used to do?" Jack pointed at Trent with one finger. "He used to sneak down before sunrise, snag half the fresh biscuits, and bring them upstairs and eat them. Then he’d come skipping downstairs, and his mother would wave a spoon at him and ask him where they went, and do you know what this little firecracker had to say?”
“I can only imagine.” Dove leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.
“He would try to tell his mother that one of the gators or other wild animals must have snuck in and got to them.”
“I was six, and I was hungry," Trent said.
“You were a biscuit bandit, is what you were.” Jack leaned back. “But your mother thought it was so cute that she would always get up, make an extra batch just for Trent.” Jack ran his fingers across the table. “When he’d come down for his actual breakfast, she’d make a big deal about how Old Pete must have snuck in again.”
“Old Pete?” Dove asked.
“A fifteen-foot gator that circled the moat for years,” Trent said. “He died about ten years ago.” He glanced at his dad. “I had to put him down. A fungal infection.”
“That’s too bad.” His father shifted his gaze toward the window. “I see there are a lot of gators that have come and gone. “You’ve kept Mallor’s Landing in good shape.”
“It hasn’t always been easy. I’ve hit bumps in the road, and I haven’t always done the right thing.” Trent didn’t like admitting that to his father. However, his mother had told him that his father had always valued honesty above all else.
“Neither did I, and if your mom didn’t tell you that, well, I’d be surprised.”
“She told me about a few blunders in your youth.”
“Linda always had a way of making dumb mistakes seem like nothing.” His dad lifted his mug in salute before taking a sip.
“Agreed.”
Dove's phone buzzed on the table. She looked at the screen, then looked at Trent. "That's Buddy. I need to go." She pushed back from the table and stood. “We’re meeting Easton at Harvey's Cabins to go over everything Slade had. Figure out what's strong enough for the feds to use.” She tucked the phone in her pocket. "Dawson and Lach are going to try to get the ME to hold off on releasing his statement about the remains. Buy us a little more time before this goes public."
"How long do you think they can hold it?" Jack asked.
"A day. Maybe two." She grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair. “But even if they can’t, the worst that happens is it makes Dutton nervous. But he won’t show it. He can’t afford to look guilty. Besides, I doubt it would change what Courtney and Sovereign Resources are doing. It might make them a little less vocal, but pulling out would be stupid on their part. At least, right away.”
“Be careful out there,” Jack said.
“Always.’
“I’ll walk you out.” Trent followed her to the porch door.
The morning was already warm, the sun up and committed now, the kind of light that hit the water in the moat and turned it gold. Somewhere along the far bank, Dolly was making her slow morning patrol. “Dolly’s gonna do her thing when you cross the bridge," Trent said.
Dove looked at the moat and then at Trent. "Define her thing."
"Roll around a little. Maybe bellow."
"Why?"
"Because she likes you. I told you. It's how she says hello and goodbye."
"She's a gator."
"She's Dolly. And contrary to popular belief, alligators do remember. They’re smart. And they have feelings.”
“Right.” Dove pointed at him. "If I get eaten on the way to my truck, I'm haunting you for the rest of your life."
"You'd be the best thing that ever haunted this property." He took her hand and pulled her in. She came without resistance, which still surprised him every time. He cupped her face the way he had on the porch the morning before, her jaw fitting against his palm like it had always belonged there.
