Fallen Hunter (Jesse McDermitt Series) Read Online Free Page B

Gaspar’s Revenge ,” I replied. “But no, just out and about in my Grady today. How’s the fishing been?”
    “About the same as always,” the other man replied. “Name’s Jackson and this here’s Willy T. We heard about what happened to you up in Miami. Damn shame. Really sorry for your loss.”
    “Thanks,” I said, but really hoped he’d change the subject. He did. We talked about fishing for a few minutes, while I enjoyed my sandwich and coffee. Willy T was a flats guide and Jackson was First Mate on a charter dive boat. The discussion turned to diving, which I was familiar with, then of course, turned to treasure.
    “Either of you ever hear about a wreck up in Fort Pierce called the Lynx ?” I asked, just being conversational.
    “Sure have,” said Jackson. “She was supposed to have a French passenger aboard when the Yankee’s sunk her. Man by the name of Douzaine Lingots Dior. Story is he was negotiating with a light Colonel by the name of Abner McCormick, to provide funds for the southern cause. His body was never found. Ya know, you’re the second person to ask me about that wreck, in the last six months.”
    “Douzaine Lingots Dior?” I said. My French really sucked, I thought. Too bad Deuce wasn't here. I’m pretty sure Dior meant, though. I didn't think it was actually a name, at all.
    “Yeah,” Jackson said. “The other fellow that asked me about it, I heard on the news a couple weeks later, he drowned up there.”
    Drowned? No way. What were the odds that he was talking about my old friend Russ?
    “In fact,” Jackson continued, pointing at my left forearm, “he had a tattoo, just like the one you got there.”
    I glanced down at the winged skull with a scuba regulator in its teeth and crossed oars behind it. It's the logo for Force Recon. Both Russ and I were Recon Marines. In fact, he was my Platoon Sergeant for a time. “Just like this?” I asked.
    “Yeah,” Jackson said, “Maybe you heard about it on the news.”
    “No,” I lied. “I live up in the Content Keys. No phone, no lights, no motor cars.”
    “Not a single luxury,” Willy T added, laughing. “Man, I loved that show, when I was a kid.”
    “Yeah,” I laughed. “Me too.” Then turning to Jackson, I said, “You seem to know a lot about an obscure Civil War wreck.”
    “Didn't tell ya my last name,” Jackson said.
    “Oh,” I said. “I thought Jackson was your last name.”
    “Nope, Jackson McCormick's the name. Colonel McCormick was my great-great grandpa.”
    “Ahhh,” I said. “That explains it.”
    “This other guy that was looking, he'd heard I was the Colonel's direct descendent and came down here to talk to me. Showed him some letters from gramps to granny, where he mentioned this French fella. Seems kinda funny him and you both askin' me about that wreck and both of ya having the same ink.”
    “Lot of guys were in Force Recon,” I said. “If we served at the same time, I might know him. What was his name?”
    Jackson looked up toward the awning, obviously thinking. “Don't recall the first name, but his last name was Livingston. I remember, cause that was my first wife's maiden name.”
    “Russell Livingston?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.
    Jackson snapped his fingers and pointed at me, saying, “Yeah, that's it. You knew him?”
    “Yeah, we served together in the eighties. I haven't seen him since about 1988,” I lied.
    Jackson seemed to buy it. I don't know why I wanted to keep it secret from the man, but I always tend to withhold information that's not directly needed.
    “So, anyway,” Jackson continued, “your friend seemed to be a decent fella. Sorry to be the one to tell ya. He was interested in Civil War history and said he was doing research on the Second Florida Cavalry. Not a lot of people know about those guys. Gramps was their commanding officer and he wrote to Granny in one letter, saying that he was taking this Douzaine Dior fella to Colonel Harrison of the