Charlie had all his tools laid out on the drop cloth. Careful was the watchword when working on these expensive boats. One scratch would probably piss off the owner, not to mention that Clay would get upset and have to pay for repairs. Marco washed his hands and checked the struts on the trailer holding up the hull before he joined Charlie in the boat.

They both donned latex gloves before exploring the anchors on the rear bench of seats.

"Damn this guy, what kind of moron has white vinyl seats in a boat like this?" Marco said.

Charlie grinned. "A very rich guy I suppose. The vinyl would be cheap to replace, but that cockpit has more chrome than a well-heeled pimp mobile. A few years in salt water and it won't last."

"He'll probably just buy a new boat when it comes to that," Marco said, running a hand along the backrest of the bench. "Oh good, the seat has ball and slot catches."

Charlie slid a gloved hand under the seam between the back and the seat cushion. He pushed upwards while Marco pulled. The back moved and they heard one pop quickly followed by two more and the back was released. Marco grasped the four foot section and lifted it, turning to place it on the drop cloth.

Charlie didn't move and sat on the floor of the deck staring down at several objects which lay in the slot behind the cushions.

"What?" Marco said, and then he saw what Charlie was looking at. "Oh shit."

The small empty glass vial lay beside a short plastic soda straw cut to about three inches long. But what held Charlie's focus was a little plastic box about six inches long.

"What's in the box?" Charlie asked.

"Don't touch it…don't touch anything. Clay has to see this."

Marco swung out of the boat and ran towards the office door. Charlie had seen cocaine before but never touched it…he couldn't afford to. The empty vial would suggest someone had consumed the contents and forgotten the bottle. Not only was it expensive but people who got busted with that shit went to jail for a long time.

Back in high school Charlie and his friends had smoked pot. He had told Lucas about it but never admitted enjoying the high. He knew his little brother might give it a try at some point, probably at some beach party. A lot of surfers drank and smoked weed, but a lot of them didn't have an alcoholic father.

It was wrong for Mike to ride in a car with his drunken father, but Charlie had done it, too. The man didn't seem to care or understand that he was putting his family at risk. It was crazy, it was stupid, and the only good thing to come from that accident was that Charlie never drank or smoked weed from that moment on.

Clay climbed up in the boat and Charlie moved into the cockpit to allow the man room to look.

"Aw shit," Clay said and reached for his cell phone.

Charlie climbed out of the boat and stood beside Marco as Clay made his call. It stood to reason that Clay called one of his friends on the police force instead of just dialing 9-1-1. The Sheriff's Office for Indian River County had hundreds of employees and he knew a lot of them because he'd worked as a volunteer for over a decade.

Charlie and Marco moved over to the Sea Ray to give Clay some privacy for his call.

"Guess I'll help you for a while, Marco," Charlie said.

"Might be a good idea, at least until the cops get here."

Clay soon joined them. "Narcotics detective is on the way. What did you guys touch besides that seat?"

"Nothing," Charlie said. "I was wearing gloves."

"Good. So this fucks up the repairs on the boat. No telling what the cops will want us to do," Clay said.

"I can help Marco hoist out the engine on the Sea Ray so he can get at the intakes," Charlie said.

"Yeah, go do that."

The detective arrived about an hour later. By then Marco and Charlie had rigged the slings under the Sea Ray's starboard engine and were hoisting it out of the engine compartment. Marco had disengaged the wiring harness and the throttle cables so the engine rose smoothly.

They watched as Clay spoke with the detective and showed him the items stashed behind the seat cushions. The man nodded and made a call on his cell phone. Marco had the damaged intake housing removed by the time a crime scene lab van arrived. It was then that the detective approached and called out Charlie's name.

"I'm Bob Giddings," the man said and shook Charlie's hand. "Clay says you found the drug apparatus when you guys removed the seat to service the engine."

"Yeah ... the bottle and the straw were just lying there, but I didn't know what was in that box."

"It's a test kit. Drug dealers use it to make sure the cocaine isn't just powdered sugar in a bag."

"Oh…so it is cocaine you think?"

Giddings nodded towards the technicians swarming the boat. "They'll tell me when they're done testing the residue. The thing is if the product is fairly pure then we know it probably came in large packages off a ship. A boat like that could make it out to the shipping lanes fairly easy."

Charlie nodded. "You know boats?"

"Some of them…you know something about this one?" Giddings asked.

"The Sunscape is a workhorse. Three hundred and twenty-five horsepower, that's a lot of pulling power. You could pull three skiers behind that boat with ease. You could pull most anything with that boat but I think the owner latched onto something pretty heavy to crack that torque tube on the driveshaft."

"Could you pull another boat?"

"Sure, provided it wasn't too big," Charlie said.

"How about an inflatable?"

"I guess…you know something, don't you?"

Giddings smiled. "Wish I could tell you, but you got me thinking…thanks. So how long before you fix the boat?"

"You want us to fix it?" Charlie asked.

"Sure, that's what the owner is expecting. When he contacts Clay about the repair I expect none of you will tell him anything about this discovery. Once the boat is fixed we hope he uses it again, and that's how we'll catch him."

"The boat is registered…" Charlie began.

"We already know who he is," Giddings said. "You do your part and leave the rest to us."

Charlie smiled. "Yes, Sir."

"Good man. I remember seeing your picture in the paper. You almost won the championship at Sebastian Inlet last year, didn't you?"

"I did…but the competition was tough," Charlie said.

"Well you've got style, Charlie, surfing is hard work. Let's keep this whole business under our hats and perhaps it will pay off. Talk to you later."

Giddings returned to watch his lab technicians and Charlie went back to helping Marco. So the cop thought he had style. How would he know, he didn't look like a surfer. By lunchtime Marco had ordered the parts for the Sea Ray and the Sunscape from the dealership over in Tampa, they would be shipped overnight by FedEx and arrive the following day.

During their lunch break Charlie and Marco sat in the shade behind a storage building in a corner of the boatyard. They called this their "office" and it seemed like a good deal because it was mere feet from the water of the Indian River Lagoon.

Most of the boats they saw and worked on were engine powered, but Charlie had always been fascinated by sailboats. Occasionally they would see a schooner under sail speeding up the lagoon towards the inlet. Silent and swift was the impression he got…it would be fun to try it.

By one-thirty they had removed the seat and the bulkhead on the Sunscape and Charlie had dismantled the torque tube. It was badly cracked and came apart in his hands. That done he helped Marco hoist the second engine on the Sea Ray. The intake under that one didn't look as bad but it still had damage, they would replace them both.

Charlie was just wiping his hands when Clay appeared with a tall gentleman in tow. The guy was dressed in what appeared to be working man's clothing, but looks were deceptive, these were not off the rack at Walmart. Abercrombie & Fitch perhaps, Charlie thought.

The face was distinctive and it was more than the native Floridian tan. The man had a distinctive mole on his right cheek beside his nose, but that did nothing to distract from the fact that he was missing an earlobe on his right ear.

"Charlie, this is Mr. Peterson…he owns the Sunscape," Clay said.

"Oh? Yes sir, the torque tube fell apart when I removed it," Charlie said, showing the man the pieces of metal lying on top of his toolkit. "New part should be here in the morning."

Peterson shook his head. "I don't know what broke it, my son just said he heard it crack and the prop refused to turn."

"These things happen," Clay said. "Charlie will get it fixed as good as new for you once he has the part."

"Well, thank you for that. I'll make sure Steven pays for it."

Peterson didn't even bother to look in the boat before he followed Clay back to the office. Son, huh? Perhaps he was the culprit the cops were looking for. But other than the cracked torque tube Charlie could find nothing else wrong with the Sunscape.

It was getting on three o'clock and he was beginning to think he might make an early day of it. He was about to ask Clay if he could take off when Giddings showed up again, Clay must have called him after Peterson left.

Giddings was carrying a small box with him as he walked into the office. Clay set down his coffee cup mug and they shook hands.

"I brought some things to put in the boat," Giddings said. "Took a while to get Judge Martin to sign off on this, but here we go."

He opened the box to reveal the small plastic kit Charlie had found behind the seat.

"We should return this to the spot where you found it in case the owner goes looking for it. We processed all the fingerprints on it in case we need them later on." Then he removed a small black box the size of a cigarette pack. "I'll need to hide this somewhere on the boat."

"What is it?"

"GPS tracker, and in case you want to know I have a court order to keep an eye on that boat for the next month, this will only make it easier."

"How long does the battery last?" Charlie asked.

"Not long enough, but it has a twelve volt power connection," Giddings said.

Charlie looked over at Marco. "Think we can find a place to splice this into the ignition? That way it would only operate when the boat is running."

"Yeah, we can do that. Lots of places in the engine compartment we can connect into the wiring," Marco said. "Is it waterproof?"

"Completely," Giddings said.

"Tap into the bilge pump wiring harness, they'll never find it down there," Marco said.

Charlie nodded. "We'll take care of it, Mr. Giddings."

Giddings showed them the power connection and the little switch on the side that turned the unit on. "One more thing…put the test kit back under the seat cushion in case they go looking for it."

"Mr. Peterson said his son had been using the boat."

"We know," Giddings said. "His son Steven, and doesn't that name sound familiar to you, Charlie?"

"Yes, it was Steve Peterson who beat me by a hair on the scores for the surfing championship last year and took first place."

"Oh crap," Marco said.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Carlos gave Lucas a smile. "Beale suggested we talk about our issues."

"We don't have issues, you do." Lucas said.

Carlos held up his hands. "Okay, you're right. Look, here's the situation. Beale is all over my case and if I cause any more problems he'll probably get me expelled. If that happens my mother will send me back down to live with my father and I do not want that to happen."

The look on Carlos' face was dead serious, and although Lucas didn't know what was behind that he understood that the boy was almost asking for forgiveness. It was time to man up as Charlie would say, but that didn't mean he had to make this easy for Carlos.

"I don't know why this whole thing started," Lucas said. "But anyone who goes after Neil will have to deal with me. Why did you fuck with him in the first place?"

Carlos shrugged. "You guys are…different. I don't know."

"If you plan to run around picking on surfers then you're in for a world of hurt. There are at least twenty Groms in this school. We are different…we're proud of that difference."

"I think you guys are loco…crazy."

"I know what loco means, and you're right. But what we do and who we are doesn't threaten you. Neil is going to win the junior championship next year…hell, he could probably do it now. But the school is going to be proud of him when he does win and that means you're swimming against the current of all his loyal fans."

Carlos nodded. "I don't know anything about surfing."

"You never tried it?" Neil asked.

"No, it looks too dangerous."

"Do you skateboard?" Lucas asked.

"Not very well. It was illegal where we lived in West Palm," Carlos said.

"The skateboard park is less than a mile from here," Lucas said. "Neil and I go there sometimes after school, you should come with us."

"I don't know…how much does it cost to get in?" Carlos asked.

"Three bucks, but you need pads and a helmet."

"I got that covered. You really want to skate with me?"

Lucas smiled. "If you can't beat them join them, Carlos. Fighting us is a waste of time, save it for the eighth grade bullies we haven't even met yet."

"Good deal," Carlos said, and then looked down at his lunch tray. "Why do they serve us this crap?"

Lucas and Neil both held up their lunch bags. "Wouldn't know, don't eat that stuff," Lucas said. "You want half of my sandwich?"

Odd, Lucas thought. Carlos looked comfortable sitting with them and there was no sign of the aggression he'd displayed last spring. It had to be more than a threat by Beale or his mother. Even the girls at the other end of the table were now giving him looks. Maybe comfortable was the wrong word, Carlos looked grateful.

Moving here from West Palm explained a few things about the boy. Across the state the Cuban-American community stuck together and that was taken the wrong way by so many of the locals. Of course some of those people were not real locals, just northern transplants. Prejudice in Florida ran along political, religious and ethnic lines…a real mess.

Lucas had no second thoughts about adding Carlos to the collection of people he knew. Friendship would take time and come only after the boy earned that trust. Carlos didn't know about Neil, but then neither did the other kids in their classes.

Neil had said that coming out in sixth grade was absurd, and Lucas agreed. Dating was not a very big aspect of sixth grade life, and the few girls he knew that were going out had relationships with older boys. The girls at their table were cute but not the dating type. Lucas smiled. They might be Grom fans but they wouldn't be girlfriend material until they grew boobs.

Carlos and Neil chatted across the table as Lucas zoned out, his mind wandering until he felt someone's eyes looking at him. He looked up and saw Beale standing in the cafeteria doorway. Their eyes met and the man smiled, giving him thumbs up before he turned away and went back out into the hallway.

The rest of the school day was just more nonsense. First days rarely accomplished anything since teachers were all busy telling them what they were going to do instead of making them do it. Carlos and Neil were both in his afternoon math class, and they were still chatting away.

Lucas' mind wandered as he watched the two boys in conversation. Neil had always been the peacemaker and perhaps that was because he was small in stature and tried to avoid confrontations. It was for the best that he got to know Carlos better because then he would share the information.

Carlos might appreciate having a new friend, but what did Neil appreciate? Carlos was a nice looking boy, although Lucas rarely thought that about other boys. He'd look better if he grew his hair longer, Lucas thought, but that was just personal preference.

Lucas hadn't cut his hair very often and only then because his father bitched about it. His mother trimmed the split ends for him now, and of course she was generous with those scissors. She understood how important the image was for Lucas, whereas Charlie just teased him.

Carlos had large brown eyes and an expressive face. He was animated with his hands, waving them around as he talked. But he also had broad shoulders and a little bit of fuzz on his upper lip. He probably had hair in his crotch, too. Inwardly Lucas groaned, was everyone ahead of him in that department?

"You're probably developing a little slower than many of your friends," His mother had said in early summer. It was the only sex talk they'd ever had and Lucas supposed she expected Charlie to give him the whole story.

"Low testosterone runs in the family. I haven't been spying on you, but it's apparent that you don't have body hair. But when the hormones kick in you'll catch up and have all the physical changes."

Lucas had stared at her, too embarrassed to speak. He already knew what wasn't happening and why thanks to Charlie. But sun and salt water gave his body a thorough workout. The rest would come in time.

The final bell sent them all scrambling for the doors, mixing the grades as students made a move for the buses or the bike racks. Neil was on bus 292, Lucas on 278, but neither of those buses was in the line yet.

"So what do you think of Carlos now?" Neil asked.

"I think he has the hots for you," Lucas said.

"Funny man ... ya think?"

"No, Neil, I don't know what to think. I only know what Carlos told me, but you guys have shared a lot more."

"Uh, yeah…about that. He's afraid of going back and living with his father. He says there's lots of drug traffic in and out. He's always afraid the cops are gonna break down the door."

Neil sighed. "You know about that Cuban culture, the macho bullshit. Well it seems his father has some less than macho guys who come in and out for their drugs. One of them tried to molest him when he was in third grade. His mother found out and that's why they're up here and he's afraid to go back."

"They let this guy get away with that?" Lucas asked.

"Guess so, he's still around. Carlos isn't afraid of what the guy might try to do to him… he's afraid he will pick up his father's gun and shoot the guy."

"He probably should, but we both know that won't end well."

"I think Carlos admires you," Neil said.

"Whatever for?"

"You stood up to him and didn't back down. Yeah, I know that sounds crazy but he wants strong friends."

"Let's take this slow…and there's my bus," Lucas said, watching the big lumbering yellow beast pull up to the curb.

"Mine, too. Hang loose, Grom," Neil said and they slapped hands.

"See ya on the flip side," Lucas said and they went their separate ways.

When he got off the bus Lucas walked home and dropped his backpack on the steps outside the kitchen door. His mother would be in her room asleep and any noise would disturb her so he trotted across Indian River Drive and headed for the boatyard. Perhaps Clay would spot him five bucks and then he could go play the pinball games at Mulligan's…or not, Lucas thought.

He saw Charlie and Clay standing with a man next to a black vehicle that just screamed cop car. Now what? But Charlie looked up at Lucas' approach and motioned him over.

"Lucas, this is Detective Giddings," Charlie said. "We were just talking about you."

"I didn't do it and I have witnesses," Lucas said, but Giddings only smiled.

"The detective has seen you surf," Charlie said.

"Yes I have," Giddings said. "I saw you do a really nice aerial. It takes guts to fly off the top of a wave…where did you learn to do that?"

"My friend Neil does it all the time," Lucas said.

"Short blond kid?"

"That's the one, he's from California."

"Ahh, they have bigger waves," Giddings said.

"Not always…we just need the right weather for a good six foot curl."

"Well don't go wishing for any hurricanes in our backyard just yet, they make my job harder." Giddings turned to Charlie and Clay. "Thanks, guys…let me know if you have any problems."

Lucas watched Clay walk the detective to his car and gave Charlie a quizzical look.

"Don't ask," Charlie said. "There are some things you don't need to know."

"You involved with the cops?"

"Not us, Steven Peterson…remember him?" Charlie asked.

"That asshole."

"Who's an asshole," Marco said, stepping outside and rolling down the garage door.

"Peterson, the both of them," Charlie said. "Lucas remembers Steven from the contest last year."

"You got a beef with him, too?" Marcos asked.

"He just about ran over a few of the groms during practice, pushed one of them right off his board. He thinks he owns the waves and I hope Charlie beats the hell out of him."

Marco laughed. "He might have to give up his surfing career if that GPS unit works."

"What GPS unit?" Lucas asked.

"Nothing you need to know," Charlie said. "What brings you over here?"

"I came to see what we're doing for dinner and see if I could get a few bucks to play the games over at Mulligans."

"Mom's got some chicken in the fridge. Thought I would throw it on the grill," Charlie said, handing Lucas a five dollar bill.

"Now you're talkin."

On to Chapter Thtee

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