Writing All Wrongs by Ellery Adams Page B

wouldn’t you, boy?” He stood up and smiled at Olivia and Harris. “Nice day for a walk. What’s your dog’s name?”
    Olivia told him and then quickly introduced herself and Harris.
    “I’m Dirk Johansson.” Dirk, who was around Harris’s age, had fair hair, glacier-blue eyes, and deep dimples. He jerked a thumb at Silas Black. “I’m named after a fictional character, but this man creates them.”
    “Were your parents Clive Cussler fans?” Harris asked after a sideways glance at Silas. The novelist and television writer was so engrossed in his conversation that he didn’t even look their way.
    “Dad loved Cussler’s books. With a name like mine, I almost
had
to become an archaeologist.” Dirk held up the stick and grinned at Haviland. “Ready to fetch, boy?”
    Dirk threw the stick, and Haviland charged after it.
    Harris gestured at a series of yellow buoys bobbing in the ocean. “How’s it going out there? Are you finding cool stuff in that shipwreck?”
    “I believe we will,” Dirk said. “We’ve had some odd setbacks, though. Last week, we lost a small boat—a Boston Whaler—when one of our guys ran into a shoal and split the keel. The thing sank in seconds.”
    “These waters aren’t easy to navigate,” Olivia said, staring impatiently at Silas. She wanted to catch his eye so she could tell him about the uninvited guests gathering in his front yard.
    “True, but this guy thought he was being safely guided in by someone onshore. Someone with a light. My colleague was the last person to leave the wreck site, and by the time he motored in, it was dark.” Dirk spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “He thought the light was leading him to the house Mr. Black rented for us on the west beach. Instead, it led him to the reef. We wasted hours recovering our equipment the next day.”
    “A strange light. A white deer shot in the heart with a crossbow bolt. This is not your typical vacationer’s paradise,” Harris said.
    Dirk tossed the stick for Haviland again and then looked at Harris. “A white deer?”
    Harris was about to reply when Silas finally put his phone in his pocket and turned to examine the newcomers. Slapping Dirk on the back, he said, “I see you found a mermaid.” Silas gazed appreciatively at Olivia, clearly expecting her to be charmed.
    She wasn’t. In a cool voice, she said, “You may have a lynch mob forming in your front yard. Jan Powell announced your land purchase in a rather dramatic fashion at the library. More than half of the attendees are on the other side of your house as we speak. And they looked very angry.”
    Silas shrugged. “What are they going to do? Make me give the land back? I purchased it fair and square. People were able to voice their opinions during not one, but two town hall meetings, but the buyer decided to sell to me anyway. Privately. And he didn’t need anyone’s permission to do so. Now, I’ll make sure the project manager protects as much natural space as he can, but I won’t be intimidated into halting this project. Not by the conservancy people. Not by anyone. I didn’t get this far by—”
    The rest of his monologue was interrupted by the sound of glass shattering.
    “What the hell?” Silas whipped his head around to face his house.
    Haviland barked in alarm, and Olivia called him to her side and ordered him to be silent. She didn’t want him to give away their position. Four humans and a poodle were no match for an enraged gang.
    “I think you should both come with us,” Harris said. “Olivia’s renting a place next door. You can wait inside until help arrives.”
    Silas shook his fists in the air. “Giving them leave to destroy my house—which is
not
a rental? Not a chance!”
    They heard multiple crashes, more glass shattering.
    “Don’t be stupid,” Olivia snapped. “They’re throwing rocks at your windows. Who’s to say they won’t hurl one at your head next? You can fix the windows. A broken skull