Caribbean Rescue (Coastal Fury Book 16), Matt Lincoln [best book recommendations .txt] 📗

“That’s not going to happen,” she’d muttered skeptically.

She wouldn’t be able to shoot her gun if she was unable to use her right arm, so she’d either have to sit it out the rest of the case or risk worsening her injury. Either way, it wasn’t an ideal situation.

By now, the paramedics and police had all left, aside from a single officer who had remained behind to secure the scene.

Really, we should be heading down to the station to interrogate the man who had just shot at us, but instead, I was still standing there in the tiny antique store, holding up the officer who probably just wanted to finish his job and leave, staring fixedly at an old anchor mounted on the wall.

I heard the door open, and my eyes left the anchor for just a moment to see who it was, only to resume their gazing when I saw that it was just Holm.

“Are you sure it’s the anchor?” Holm asked skeptically. “Don’t all anchors kind of look the same? How can you tell this one came off the Dragon’s Rogue?”

“I’m sure,” I replied firmly. “Well, mostly, anyway. I’ll be able to tell without a doubt once I get a look at the other side, but I know this is it. I’ve seen blueprints and drawings of every part of the ship, probably a hundred times now. I knew the moment I saw it what it was.”

“What’s on the other side?” Holm asked.

“According to the records that exist about its construction,” I explained, “Jonathan had the year it was commissioned etched into the arms. If it says sixteen-eighty-seven, then we’ll know for sure. That isn’t all, though. Look here. Usually, the crown of an anchor is rounded on the bottom, right? Well, the Dragon’s Rogue anchor had a crown shaped like a letter V, instead. You can see right there that the apex is pointed instead of rounded.”

“Damn.” Holm whistled. “It might actually be the real deal then, huh?”

“I hope so,” I replied eagerly. “It’s crazy, though. What are the odds that we’d find it here?”

“Astronomically small,” Holm deadpanned. “Seriously, it’s kind of ridiculous how lucky you are. You keep being in the right place at the right time. Just think, if we hadn’t gotten this case, we never would have come to Turks and Caicos. And even if we had, for whatever reason, what are the odds we would have ended up in this tiny little shop?”

“Maybe it’s fate.” I grinned. “Or the ghost of my ancestor trying to guide me to his long-lost ship.”

I was so giddy I was speaking nonsense. Holm was right. The fact that we’d just happened to stumble upon the anchor was nothing short of a miracle. I was so excited that I didn’t know how I should react.

“So, uh… what’s your plan, then?” Holm asked me. “I mean, the shop owner just got arrested, and I doubt he’s coming back anytime soon. It’s not like we can just take it, either.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” I muttered as I admired the anchor. It was in rough condition, not surprising considering it probably hadn’t been well taken care of by whoever had been in possession of it up until now. Who knew how long it had been sitting in this dusty old place, gathering rust and wearing away. Still, it was in a better state than it might have been.

“Marston.” Holm admonished me gently. “Listen, brother, I know how much this means to you, but we actually can’t take it with us. Even if you did manage to convince me, the thing’s massive. It’s not like we can smuggle it back in a suitcase.”

I frowned with dismay. I knew he was right. Honestly, once the old guy was arrested, I wasn’t sure who ownership of the anchor would pass to. And he was right about the logistical aspect of it as well. The anchor looked like it was around twelve feet in length, and that wasn’t accounting for the arms or the key pin that jutted out of either side, making the entire thing impractically big and bulky. Even if I did somehow manage to finesse it into my possession, how exactly would I get several tons of metal back to Miami?

“I’ll figure it out,” I sighed, trying to convince myself as much as Holm. “We need to focus on the case now, anyway.”

“Alright.” Holm clapped a hand down onto my shoulder sympathetically.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and began to take as many photos of the anchor as I could. For now, it was all I could do, and I refused to even entertain the idea that it might be all I would manage to get.

I didn’t hesitate to move the shop’s furniture around so that I could get pictures from better angles. Technically, what I was doing was a huge breach of policy. I didn’t really have the authority to be messing with things at a crime scene. It wasn’t like I was actually searching through things, though. Surely just moving things around harmlessly wasn’t too bad, right?

That was what I told myself as I maneuvered around as best I could to capture the anchor from as many different perspectives as possible. The anchor itself was far too heavy for me to move on my own, as much as I was itching for a chance to get a look at the other side.

“Don’t break anything,” Holm muttered as he watched me moving things around. He glanced back through the front window. I followed his gaze and saw that the officer was still outside, apparently engaged in conversation with Olivia.

After a few minutes, I put my phone away and reluctantly forced myself to look away from the anchor. As much as I wanted to stay and figure out a way to bring it with me, we were still in the middle of a case. That