Read Wood's Wreck for Free Online Page B

the back stairs, opened the sliding glass door to his bedroom, and made his way to the kitchen, where he yanked the phone from its charging cord and checked the screen for messages. It was blank. 
    He opened the phone app and hit Mel’s number. Pacing the room while the phone rang, he wondered how she was going to take this. 
    She answered on the fourth ring. “Where are you?” he asked.
    “I’m fine thanks, how are you?”
    “Sorry. I got trouble here at the house. Fish and Game and some suits. Trufante took the boat …”
    She cut him off, her tone changing entirely. “Stall them for ten minutes. I’m just getting off the Seven Mile Bridge. Don’t say anything to anyone and keep that stupid Cajun quiet.” 
    Mac put the phone in his pocket, pulled the charger from the wall, and went back to the bedroom. Mel was good—very good—but this kind of law was a little out of her wheelhouse. He feared what was about to happen. Casitas were the bane of legitimate lobster men. Instead of the approved traps, which allowed undersized lobsters to escape, these unmarked and illegal devices could hold hundreds of lobster in one spot, without regard to size. 
    They were the tools of poachers, and known to be out of bounds. 
    There had been several cases lately where offenders accused of poaching had lost their boats, houses, and vehicles. Most fishermen didn’t have the capital or concern to set up a corporation to protect themselves and their assets, so if the law came after them, that was the end. After deciding he had everything he needed, he went downstairs through the workshop and into the office. From the desk he grabbed a handheld GPS, then went to the safe and unlocked it. 
    He heard someone try the rollup door and quickly grabbed the felt bag with the last of his gold and a thumb drive and shoved them in his pocket. The safe closed, he turned to see two men and a woman standing in the doorway. One was the officer from the boat; the other was dressed in a suit, his brow sweating, clearly uncomfortable in the humidity. 
    “We’ll take the GPS. Could be evidence on there,” One of the men said. 
    Mac handed him the unit and turned to the woman—the local sheriff, whom he knew well. “Jules, can you tell me what’s going on here?” 
    “I heard some stuff on the radio and figured I’d come and see if I could buffer this a little. It’s got nothing to do with the sheriff’s office, but I’m here to vouch for you, or do whatever I can,” she said, her tone somber.
    Before he could thank her, the man in the suit handed him a stack of documents. “I’m Bill Harris, district attorney for Monroe County, and I’m here to personally serve these papers and confiscate the property indicated.”
    This was happening way too fast. Mac took the papers and scanned them. One named his boat and the other the house. They were charging him with poaching in the marine sanctuary and trying to take everything he had. He tried to hide his anxiety and took his time reading them, hoping that Mel would barge in at any second and help him. 
    “Jules,” he looked up. “Can’t you help with this?” He hoped his long time friend could help him out. 
    “Sorry, Mac. I checked that they dotted their I’s and crossed their T’s, but that’s all I can do.”
    The group turned as the front door opened and Mel burst through.
    “Jules, thank God. Can you tell me what these idiots are into now?” She went to Mac and grabbed the papers from his hand, leaned against the desk, and started reading.
    “You better hear it from them. I’m just here to give some moral support and make sure they follow procedure. If they’re going to arrest him, I can try and take him in here and get bail set. Otherwise they might take him to Miami and put him in a Federal prison. It’ll be a lot harder to get him out then.”
    She looked up from the papers. “It’s the boat and the house, Mac. Casitas, really. I’d figure Tru for that, but