I’m a Conch. To people who know what Conchs are, that should tell you a lot about my character. To those that don’t, well – it means I was born and raised in the Florida Keys. I came into this world at Fisherman’s Hospital in Marathon, the first in my family not born at home.
Conchs are a tough lot by nature. I don’t mean in behavior. We consider ourselves Southern and we practice a gracious Southern lifestyle. My mother, God rest her, would come back to haunt me if I ever treated anyone unkindly. No, I mean we’re emotionally and physically tough. We have to be. We live in a place that can be isolated or destroyed by Mother Nature anytime she chooses. Both my parents lost family to hurricanes. No one they were old enough to know, but they heard about them so often, they felt like they did. We learn young to be self-sufficient, capable, and resourceful. All good life skills.
I live in a hurricane house – one built to keep its roof when the hurricanes come. I inherited it from my parents. They died in a head on car crash on the Seven Mile Bridge. Victims of a drunk driver. I miss them every day. Before they died, I had left ‘the Rock’ as we call it. Educated at the University of Miami, considered going to law school. I interrupted my plans to settle their estate, and to recover from the shock. Now, I’m a paralegal at Huffman Koons. We have an estate, trust, and probate practice with a side order of litigation. My boss is Grant Huffman. We’re good friends, and it’s starting to look like we’ll be more. Not sure how I feel about that.
Any free time I have is spent under water. I’ve been a scuba diver since about the time I could breathe. I still blame Fisherman’s Hospital for making me trade my birth gills for working lungs. I don’t think I got the best end of that deal. Everyone I know is a diver. I’m also an instructor. Lucky thing since I’m teaching Grant. Diving is a source of great comfort to me. Although not too long ago, I was diving the wreck of the Humboldt. She lies upright in a hundred twenty feet of water. That’s where I found the body. As the events unfolded, I turned out to be one of the two prime suspects. If it wasn’t for the investigative skills I learned as a paralegal, I might be in jail now or dead myself.
Things happen fast under water. And it’s true what they say. Under water, no one hears your screams.
You can read more about Hayden in Death by Blue Water, the first book in the new “Hayden Kent” mystery series, published by Henery Press.
GIVEAWAY: Leave a comment by 6 p.m. eastern on November 14 for the chance to win a signed copy of DEATH BY BLUE WATER. The giveaway is open to U.S. residents only.
About the author
Kait Carson has been writing mysteries since the fourth grade when she penned the words, “pop, pop, pop, here comes the cop” for a story poetry assignment. She opted for a career as a paralegal practicing in the area of probate, tax, and probate litigation. When she’s not writing, you can find her scuba diving or in the air with her pilot husband. Kait lives with her husband, eight (count ‘em) rescue cats, a conure, cockatoo, and a harlequin macaw at an airpark in Fort Denaud, Florida. Visit Kait at www.kaitcarson.com or on Twitter or on Facebook