“What is hedoing?”
“Who? What?”
“That guy with the impact driver on the side of the bridge.”
Vivien shifted to the side to see past the people in front of her, many of whom were stopping at the sight.
Finally, she could see that a man had climbed up the side railing of the bridge and was using a noisy tool, pulling off sections of the bridge and tossing them into a flatbed truck parked on the sand. The metal and wood had been marked with bright orange spray paint, and whole pieces of the side had been stripped off.
Even from here, she made out the stocky form she recognized.
As people called out questions and exclamations, Vivien broke through the crowd and took off, yelling the man’s name.
“Quinn! Mr. Hargrove! Hey, you can’t do that until tomorrow!”
He stopped and turned, pushing a ballcap up to get a better look at her. “I sure can.”
“No, no. The demolition is scheduled for tomorrow.” She caught her breath and slowed as she reached him, looking up at the damage he’d already done. Not too much, but it wouldn’t be long until no one could climb it.
The steps to get up the side weren’t that far off the sand, but he did seem to loom over her and looked big and dangerous with the power tool in his hand.
“I don’t have to wait.” He yanked a crowbar out of a bag resting near him, slamming it into wood. “I can get the old-growth lumber now.”
“Because it’s the most valuable,” Eli said, rushing up next to Vivien. “Who are you and what are you doing?”
“I could ask the same thing, pal. Back off.” He looked past them at the small crowd, his gaze flickering. “You brought your posse, Vivien? No broody boyfriend this time?”
Her jaw dropped as she rooted for an answer, but before she gave one, an engine roared from a small workers’ access road.
A small truck rumbled closer and Vivien’s heart dropped. Another worker? They were starting tonight?
The driver’s door opened and a woman leaped out, long dark hair whipping around as she turned, waved to someone behind her, then pivoted and ran toward the bridge.
“Oh, no you don’t, buddy!” she yelled.
It was Natalie Cartwright from the fishing museum! Vivien hustled closer, just as a green and white sheriff’s SUV showed up and both doors flung open, the sight nearly knocking Vivien off her feet completely.
“Peter!” she gasped. “And Connor!”
Peter shot closer, arm out, badge extended. “Touch one more board, Hargrove, and I’ll arrest you.”
“You cannot demo this bridge,” Natalie called, practically jumping on her sneakers as she waved a piece of paper. “These are archival affidavits proving that the bridge qualifies for a heritage protection review.”
He flicked his hand. “Back off, girl. We’ve been through that and it doesn’t qualify for squat.” He punctuated that by yanking a board and tossing it toward the truck, but Peter punched the wood as it fell, flipping it to the sand.
“Step off from the structure,” Peter demanded.
Quinn laughed. “Got a contract and a schedule.”
Pocketing his ID, Peter stepped right under him. “Then you better find your permit,” he said. “Because I don’t see one posted, and under the Florida Building Code, you don’t touch a public structure without it displayed on-site.”
Quinn didn’t move.
“And as of this afternoon, this bridge is under cultural resource review,” Peter added.
Natalie lifted the papers higher. “Filed and logged.”
Quinn’s jaw flexed as he yanked the crowbar over wood again.
