The guy fished it out of a compartment and handed it to him. With a smug grin, he said, "See. I told you. Everything is in order.”
"Okay, Todd," The sheriff said, reading from the registration. "Let's see your flare gun."
Todd stiffened, and his skin went pale. "I've got one."
"Let's see it.”
Todd moved to a compartment by the helm and carefully opened it just a sliver. He reached his hand inside and felt for the flare gun, being squirrely about it.
The sheriff forced the lid open with the flick of his hand. It was obvious what Todd was hiding. A small bag of weed in the compartment next to the gun. A slight smirk tugged the sheriff's lips. "Now what do we have here?"
Todd frowned and said nothing.
The sheriff pulled out the baggie and dangled it in front of the man. By and large, we weren't typically prosecuting marijuana cases in the county. But in a situation like this, it gave us leverage. "I don't suppose you've got a medical card?”
"No, sir.” Todd changed his tune abruptly. Now it was allno, sir,andyes, sir.
"This gives me probable cause to search the rest of the boat. I've seen watercraft seized over less.”
Todd's eyes rounded. "Seized? For what?”
"Drug trafficking," the sheriff said casually.
"I'm not drug trafficking!"
"How do we know you didn't stash a supply out here. Maybe that's what you came out here to dig up.”
"That's total bullshit," Todd said.
The sheriff was just trying to rattle his cage. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. If you can magically materialize that case that you dug up, I might be willing to forget about our little encounter here today.”
"Are you extorting me?”
"No, you little shit. I'm trying to save a young girl's life, and you're being an asshole." Daniels had reached his limit.
Todd deflated and hung his head. "I’ve still got the case. I can take you to it. But we will forget all about this, right?”
46
Todd decided to be more cooperative. We followed him back to Coconut Key, then back to his house.
He lived in a one-story bungalow on Sandcastle Lane. It had mint green siding, white trim, and a nice veranda. An American flag flew from a column, and the landscaping was well-maintained.
We parked at the curb and hopped out of the sheriff's patrol car. We followed Todd through the gate at the white picket fence up to the front porch.
Todd reached into his pocket, pulled out his keys, and jingled them as he fumbled to get them in the slot. He paused. "I'm not letting you guys in my house. Not after the shit you pulled on my boat."
"What have you got in the house you don't want us to see?" the sheriff asked.
"Nothing. I'll be right back.”
Todd opened the door a sliver and slipped inside. He tried to close the door on us, but the sheriff wasn't having any of it. He put his foot in the doorway and kept it open.
"Fine,” Todd huffed. “Stay here. I'll be back.”
He disappeared down the foyer, and we all exchanged an uncertain glance.
"Go around the back and make sure he doesn't try to run," the sheriff said to Jack.
