Dangerous Waters (18 page)

Holly sat between Finn and Malone as they peered through the darkness. She tried not to think about Finn’s thigh pressed snug against hers in the close confines of his truck.

“Where exactly was it spotted?” Finn leaned over her shoulder to stare at the topographical map she’d spread across her knee. All three wore headlamps, and it was like being stuck in a damn laser show. The thing that had happened on the beach made this situation even more difficult because she still had a job to do. And she still wanted him.

“We have two hikers reporting an abandoned boat anchored just south of the Klanawa River Ecological Reserve, just north of where it meets up with Blue Creek.” She stuck her index finger on the spot. “The numbers on the side match the boat Len Milbank owned.”

“So you figure the killer dumped the body in the wreck, boated up here, ditched the boat, and either got a ride or walked home?” said Finn.

Malone gave him a cranky, bloodshot look that screamed too many hours spent upright with his eyes open. “That how you’d have done it?”

Finn glared back, landing Holly smack bang in the firing line of two pissed-off alpha males.

“If I’d killed Milbank, I’d have dumped the body out in the open somewhere nice and remote”—the fastest place for decomposition—“and then I’d have taken his boat out into the sound, scuttled her, and swum home in time for beers and burgers. You wouldn’t be sitting here wetting your pants about crime scenes and trace evidence.” Finn’s lip curled in disgust.

Malone pushed open his door. There was a path through the woods, just visible as a denser patch of forest. “You stay here with the truck, Rambo.”

Finn got out on his side. “In your dreams, Barney.”

“Finn.” Everyone was tired and stressed and this wasn’t helping.

He looked furious. “There are thousands of acres of bush out here. If you guys get disorientated and lost, it could take the authorities weeks to find you. And that’s even if they know your starting point.” He grabbed his jacket from behind the seat. Stabbed his arms through the sleeves. “Plus, the island has the densest population of cougars in the world, not to mention black bears and gray wolves—”

“I was just going to ask if you had another flashlight. Malone’s winding you up,” Holly said patiently.

“Successfully,” her colleague muttered with a smirk.

She glanced at her fellow officer, who raised an innocent brow.

“You know this area?” she asked Finn.

“Some. We used to fish up here when we were kids.” Finn pulled another flashlight out of the back of the truck and retrieved a rifle case too. She and Malone watched with interest as he unpacked the gun and slung it over his shoulder.

“Got a license for that?” Malone asked.

“You got a license for your mouth?”

She planted a hand against Finn’s chest before the testosterone ignited. “Corporal Malone is just doing his job, although,” she raised her voice and aimed her next comment at the usually taciturn cop, “he could be a damn bit more polite to a man who’s just spent the last hour driving us out here, especially if he wants a ride back again.”

“Now there’s a thought.” Finn smiled.

Malone grinned, unrepentant.

“You
do
have a license for that, right?” she asked Finn.

His teeth flashed. “Remind me to pull it out and show you if we meet a
Puma concolor
.” But he opened his wallet and showed her the license anyway.

“I might just steal the rifle and shoot you both. I like
cats
.” She rolled her eyes. “Finn, lead the way. Malone, bring up the rear and stay close. I don’t want to lose either of you tonight.”

They set off through the dense black forest. Tree branches creaked overhead in the low wind that was slowly building from the west. Holly could see nothing beyond the rifle draped across Finn’s red jacket and a foot of jungle when she shone her lamp that way. It felt like the set of a horror movie. Even though she carried a gun and a Taser, she was glad to have Finn, and Malone, close.

“This place gives me the creeps,” said Malone.

“Me too.” Holly spoke loudly, hoping to scare away anything with canines sharper than her own.

“At least it isn’t raining,” Malone commented. She saw Finn shake his head as, a moment later, the first drops hit.

“Fuck a duck,” Malone squeaked. The rain was gentle at first, just the odd large drop splattering on the wind. But that was just the scouting party. Thirty seconds later, the heavens opened and a sheet of water lashed out of the sky. It got heavier and heavier, in waves, like a monsoon. At first her coat and hat kept off the worst, but after five minutes, water began to seep in along the seams, and rivulets dripped from her nose and chin. Her pants stuck to her skin, and she was starting to shiver. She sneezed. Finn looked back at her, lips tightened with concern.

They kept going, pushing through the overgrown bushes until Holly heard a rush of water above the hammering of the rain. Finn stopped, and she almost ran into him. He steadied her and spoke to Malone. “There’s no real path here, but it looks like there’s an animal track along the edge of the river. The boat should only be a few hundred yards that way, assuming it hasn’t come loose from the anchor.”

Malone nodded miserably.

“Let’s get this done,” Holly said.

The need for banter had dissolved into wretchedness as they trudged through the growing mud puddles that formed out of nowhere. Her feet were wet and cold. Jesus. Nothing about this case had come easy so far.

“There she is.” Finn shone his powerful flashlight across the fast-flowing water and picked out the tiny cruiser. “What now? There doesn’t look like there’s anyone on board, but they’d be below deck in this weather anyway.” Water raced down his face, dripped down his jacket and onto his soaked jeans.

Damn
. The boat was in the
middle
of the river. They’d have to swim to get on board, and they couldn’t risk getting on board that way because they might contaminate evidence. Holly had hoped she could look it over. But at this distance, in this weather, it was impossible.

She took some photographs, praying her camera didn’t crap out because of the downpour. Then she exchanged a look with Malone. “We’ve established Milbank’s boat is actually here. We’ll head back and call in the IFIS team to retrieve it.”

“Or you could swim out there and tow it to Port Alberni with your teeth.” Malone aimed another jab at Finn.

Finn swiped some more water off his face and finally relaxed enough to smile. “So that’s it?” There was an unholy glint in his eye. “You don’t wanna leave a cop guarding the thing overnight?”

“In this weather?” Malone scoffed.

“It’s only a bit of rain.”

And Niagara was only a trickle. Holly bit her lip and pretended to think about it.

Malone pointed a finger. “That river is rising fast.”

“Then maybe you
should
stay, just in case the boat starts to drift away, you could follow it…”

He finally figured out she was joking. “Ha ha.”

“If we had another officer out here I’d consider it, but not alone, not in this storm.” Once again the rain intensified, and they all hunched deeper into their already soaked clothes.

She took some crime tape out of her pocket and tied it to a branch. “This should give us a visual reference point.”

Finn pulled something out of his pocket and pressed a button.

“What’s that?” Malone jerked his chin at the thing.

“Satellite GPS. I just e-mailed you a signal from this location.”

Malone peered closely at the device and whistled. “I want one.”

Finn handed it over so he could check it out.

“How sweet.” Holly shook her head, droplets of water spinning off her nose. “Boys, bonding over gadgets.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with gadgets. Thanks.” Malone handed it back to Finn and turned to lead the way out.

Finn caught her arm before she could follow him, leaned close to her ear. “For your information, Officer, I’m a man, not a boy. And you can bond with my gadget anytime.” He wiggled his brow, pleased with his joke. That sexy grin was oblivious to the rain and wind and bleak atmosphere of the ancient forest.

Holly backed up a step and would have fallen over a tree root if he hadn’t steadied her. “What is it? What’s the matter?” His urgent eyes scanned her face.

“Nothing.” She sneezed and shivered and stumbled away. She was in deep trouble. Very deep trouble. Because she didn’t know the last time her heart had felt such giddy delight. Didn’t remember the last time desire had pounded through her bloodstream like a narcotic. And the combination of those two factors scared her more than all the cougars and all the bears in the goddamn universe.

Mike needed a beer more than he needed breath. Gina had taken the edge off, but he was now back to being terrified. The gun he’d stolen from Finn rubbed his spine, and after a moment of indecision, he pulled it out of his jeans and stuffed it back in his glove box. If Dryzek saw he was armed he’d kill him for sure. He couldn’t appear to be a threat.

At least it had finally stopped raining. His hands shook.

Another car slid in beside him, no lights. A malevolent black shadow in the deserted parking lot in the middle of nowhere. Mike forced himself out of his truck as Dryzek rolled the passenger window down an inch.

“Did you find it?”

Mike put his hands in his pockets. “I searched Finn’s place, but it isn’t there. It wasn’t in his truck either.”

“What about Brent?”

Fear made his mouth dry. “The guy never leaves the house. I can’t get into the place without him seeing me—”

“I don’t care how you do it. Kill him for all I care. I just want my stuff.” Dryzek’s voice was a furious hiss.

He could feel his heart punching his ribs. “I can’t hurt anyone, Remy. You know that. Brent Carver will beat the shit out of me the moment I step on his land.”

He heard the driver’s door slide open, and Gordy Ferdinand climbed out and walked around the car. The man was a massive, threatening hulk of meanness. Mike backed up a step, but Ferdinand drove his sledgehammer fist into Mike’s stomach. His knees crumpled and he wanted to hurl.

“Jesus,” he gasped, sitting in an inch of mud on the ground. How the hell had he got into this mess? “What the fuck was that for?”

Ferdinand picked him up by the collar and rammed him again.
Holy mother
. His vision blurred. Pain twisted his insides into a rigid knot.

Dryzek slipped the window down all the way as Mike, on his knees, braced one hand on the ground, the other arm trying to shield his body. In the darkness he couldn’t see a damn thing, but the proximity to Ferdinand’s boots scared the shit out of him. One good kick could snap his neck, and he’d suddenly figured out—five minutes too late—that he should have just taken off until the cops found Len’s killer.

“Set up a diversion. Hell, get the guy arrested if you have to. Just find a way to search Carver’s place. I want to know if that fucker is trying to take over my turf, and if he is, I’m going to take him down, along with that piece-of-shit brother of his.”

“And if I don’t find anything?” His voice was shaky and weak.
Dammit
. When had he become lowest on the food chain?

Ferdinand grabbed him by his shirt collar and hauled him to his feet. “Then we’ll figure out where you’re gonna look next.”

His whole body shook. “What if the police find it first?” There was no way he was hanging around Bamfield to get screwed over by Remy Dryzek.

The sharp edge of Remy’s profile became visible as he stuck his head out the window. “Now that would be a shame…because Gordy’s been dying to pay your old man a proper visit.”

Mike’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as all the moisture in his mouth disappeared.

“I don’t normally let him pound old men or women, but this is important to me.” Mike finally saw the guy for what he was—evil. “Like your parents are important to you.”

His heart stopped beating.

“You understand?”

He nodded, and a fist like a brick smashed into his jaw.

“Answer him, you little shit!”

White light flashed through his eyes and his vision faded in and out. He staggered to his knees, tensed as Ferdinand grabbed his hair and pulled his head back for another strike.

“Wait,” Dryzek ordered. “Do we have a deal, Mikey?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, we have a deal.” The words grated out from between locked teeth.

Ferdinand shoved him to the ground. A moment later the hot blast of engine fumes whipped over his face as he lay panting in the mud.

He was so fucked.

Pictures of violent death were spread out on the table as they all gathered around, drinking coffee. The fact she was still hungry meant she was getting a little too used to the job.

The command group had convened for another meeting. She and Malone had dried off, changed, and towel dried their hair—his more successfully than hers. She sneezed.

“Bless you,” said Messenger.

“Thanks.” Holly sniffed, then sneezed again so violently it tore through her bruises with a nice sharp kick.

“
Gesundheit
.” Malone grinned then sneezed himself. “Fuck.”

“Phone records show no outgoing calls from Len after Monday, April second,” Jeff Winslow carried on.

“Can we get access to his incoming calls and voice mail?” Holly asked.

“Already did.” Jeff distributed copies. “We’ve got a lot of activity from a burner phone out of Port Alberni on that Monday; same burner was used in Bamfield but hasn’t been used since. Several messages from Remy Dryzek asking where the hell Milbank was, one in particular telling him if he didn’t get his ass back by Friday he was personally going to rip his balls off.”

“When was that one left?”

“Thursday the fifth.”

Holly looked around at the other officers, trying to shake off the pervasive cold that had fused with her bones. “According to the pathologist, Milbank was probably already dead by then. I want a list of names of everyone who called Milbank or who he called during the last six months and we’ll cross-reference them with locals who said they didn’t know the vic.”

“Can we get a fix on where he made his last call?” asked Holly.

“Yep, but it doesn’t give us anything except Port Alberni.”

“Which we already had.” She pressed her lips together. “Any trace evidence at all on the vic, Steffie?”

“Not a damned thing.”

“Think someone knew how much seawater messes up evidence?” This from Chastain, whose eyes were bloodshot and shadowed. Steffie had told her he’d just been dumped by his fiancée via text message. She’d told him to go home and fix it, but he’d been determined to stay. Being a cop and having a personal life wasn’t easy. Everyone on the team needed a power nap.

A wave of hurt hit Holly head-on. She pulled out her pain meds and swallowed another two with a mouthful of coffee. Damn. “I don’t know, but whoever murdered Milbank had to have screwed up somewhere. Can they locate Milbank’s cell phone now?”

“Phone company has been trying to ping it, but they found nothing. My guess is it’s in ten feet of water,” said Jeff.

“Or out of cell tower range,” suggested Steffie.

Too many options in an area this remote. “What do we have from Milbank’s apartment?”

Steffie shuffled her notes. “We’ve got traces of narcotics. Fingerprints from Dryzek and associates and several females who have records for prostitution. Found a few diving manuals and books borrowed from the local library.”

Chastain laughed. “Len Milbank had a library card?”

It didn’t fit with his character. “When did he join the library?” asked Holly.

“Friday, March thirtieth,” said Steffie.

Excitement burned a hole in Holly’s chest. “So Finn Carver and Thomas Edgefield find the wreck on Wednesday, March twenty-eighth, and by Friday Len Milbank knew about it?” She snorted. “No matter what they said, someone else knew they found that wreck.”

“You still believe them when they say they didn’t tell anyone?” asked Steffie.

“I do, but…” Her thoughts turned to the librarian. “See if a woman called Gina Swartz shows up on any of those phone lists. Did Milbank have an e-mail address?”

Malone nodded. “I’m checking out those messages right now.”

“Anything suspicious that hinted at shipwrecks during that time period?”

Malone checked his notes. “Nothing.”

Holly’s brain was firing, and she knew she’d missed something. She snapped her fingers. “Finn Carver said they wrote down their coordinates on the dive sheets. Did you check that?” She looked around, but everyone shook their heads. She checked her watch. Crap. “I’ve got to go pick up my stuff anyway. I’ll go check.” She eyed the couch balefully, and everyone avoided her eye. “Let’s see how closely the coordinates they left match up with the site of the shipwreck and if someone could have used it to pinpoint the exact location—especially if someone overheard them talking about what they’d found.”

Her phone rang. Almost midnight. Staff Sergeant Furlong. Tension squeezed all the air out of her lungs. “Yes, sir?”

“What’s the progress, Sergeant Rudd?”

She cleared her throat. “We’ve narrowed down the timeline for time of death and believe he was killed on Monday, April second.”

“Do Carver and Edgefield have alibis for Monday?”

She stretched out her stiff neck. “I’m not sure yet, sir. We’ve only just narrowed it down—”

“Find out,” he snapped. “I want them to account for every damn minute.”

“Yes, sir.” Holly could feel her cheeks burn. Malone eyed her steadily and Chastain went to grab himself another coffee. They’d be peeing pure caffeine at this rate and had more chance of coma than sleep.

“Have you checked the dive shops regarding the knife?”

“The knife was old, sir.” Christ.

“Well, maybe the killer had to buy a new one to replace it. Get on it, Sergeant.” He disconnected, and the ensuing silence made her agonizingly aware of how one lapse in judgment could screw with her whole career.

Shit
. The man was going to waste their time focusing on suspects that her gut was telling her were innocent. But she had to follow orders, which meant if they got a lead from those lines of inquiry, Furlong got the praise. If they got nothing, she’d get the grief. Damned if she did and damned if she didn’t.

“Rachel.” It was the first time she’d used Messenger’s first name. “The team commander wants us to circulate a photograph of the knife to all the local dive shops. See if anyone recognizes it. And ask if any of the BMSC staff or Bamfield residents bought a new knife recently.”

The woman looked annoyed but didn’t complain.

“Did you talk to the guys investigating yesterday’s crash?” Malone asked.

“I gave them a statement, but they don’t have much new. They’re canvassing the drivers of logging trucks. I also asked them to check to see if the drivers had seen anyone walking along Klanawa Road over the last two weeks too because whoever dumped that boat had to get home somehow.”

“Unless they had an accomplice,” Chastain put in.

“It’s worth a shot.”

“Pity you didn’t get a better look at the guy who ran you off the road.”

One side of Holly’s lips drew up in a rueful smile. “If I’d known what was going to happen I’d have shot the crap out of his truck, but I was too busy trying to keep my vehicle on the road.”

“And look how well that worked out for you,” said Malone with a serious expression. “Next time, shoot the damn truck and screw the paperwork.” No one liked it when a cop got hurt. It brought back the awareness of all the dangers of the job.

She rubbed her forehead. “You guys get some sleep. I’m going to go down to the dive shed and check those coordinates.”

“I’ll come with you,” Malone said.

“I don’t need a babysitter.” Her voice got hard. She didn’t need protection or special treatment. They had a motorboat to cross the channel now, so it wasn’t like she’d be rowing. “I’ll be thirty minutes, max.”

“Don’t forget your gun,” said Chastain.

She snorted, hand on her pistol. As if she would after yesterday. They all stood and headed off to steal a much-needed couple of hours of rest.

Steffie came to stand beside her and eyed the couch. “You can’t sleep on that wretched thing; it’s four feet long.” They both eyed it distastefully. “Stay where you were last night. No one’s gonna say anything. Carver isn’t even a suspect except in Furlong’s tiny brain.”

“I need to check his alibi for Monday to know that for sure.” Plus, no way could she risk being alone with him overnight again. Every time she saw him she wanted to touch him, and every time she touched him she wanted to kiss him and…not a good idea. “I’m not allowing anything to cloud this investigation.” She dropped her voice. “I can’t take any chances, Steff. Furlong would bury me if there’s any sort of impropriety.”

Steffie shook her head. “Finn Carver isn’t our guy and you know it.”

Holly mumbled under her breath.

Steffie gripped her forearm with strong fingers and shook her slightly. “You always feel like you have to work harder than us because of who your father is. Better test scores, better fitness, better marksmanship, better clearance rates, higher ethics, longer working hours—everything. Did it ever occur to you that
those
were the reasons you got promoted so fast?” She smiled sadly. “That you might actually deserve the position you’re in?”

Holly watched her go and wanted to believe her. Trouble was there was no way she could ever prove she’d got as far as she had on her own merit, and she’d made enough mistakes to last a lifetime. “Well, you can’t fix stupid.” But she didn’t have to do anything to make it worse. She headed out the door and into the enveloping darkness.

Finn lay in bed staring at the ceiling. He could hear the guys downstairs having a beer outside, but that wasn’t what was keeping him awake. Images kept circling his mind. Holly in street clothes the day she arrived. Bloody and injured after the wreck. Those tiny frogs on her toes. Sleeping across the hall last night. Kissing him on the beach.

Why had she freaked out on him back there in the woods? Had he overstepped some invisible line by joking with her like that? Her face had turned ghostly white under her bruises and she’d barely spoken to him the whole drive back. After the connection they’d shared, her sudden pulling away had confused the hell out of him. But he was dealing with a woman, so it wasn’t exactly new or unexpected territory. He had to stop thinking about her. He punched the pillow under his head to try to reshape it. Launched it across the room when that didn’t work and laid his arm across his forehead. What the hell was he thinking anyway? That a woman like Holly would fall for his charm? What the hell did he have to offer besides a quick slaking of some red-hot lust?

Goddamn it. He didn’t need to be thinking about any slaking.

She was so rule oriented and dedicated. His imagination whirled. What would it feel like to shatter the professional façade and reveal the woman beneath? To touch her naked body as he laid her on a blanket. To take her against a wall, rough and sweaty, hard and slow. Those lips. Those eyes. Those long, slim limbs that looked like they’d been made to wrap around his body. He groaned and sat up, knowing sleep was as elusive as a five-legged goat.

The creak of a footfall had him rolling out of bed to his bedroom door within a split second. He pressed his ear to the wood. Boards groaned gently. Someone was in his cabin. Remy Dryzek? Ferdinand?

He glanced at his wardrobe and thought about getting his handgun, then dismissed the idea. No time. Plus, he didn’t need the gun when he had darkness. Silently he eased open the door. A silhouette was outlined against the window, black on black. He immediately recognized Holly’s shape, or maybe he knew her scent on a cellular level.

“I was just going to borrow your keys to the dive shed.” Her voice was gruff, almost nervous sounding.

Something was wrong. “Everything OK?”

Her chin rose and he heard her swallow thickly.

Shit. This was about him. He walked toward her. “I don’t know what I did to freak you out—”

“You haven’t done anything—”

“Then why the hell are you backing away from me?” Loud, vehement, frustrated. Definitely frustrated. He tried to dispel the lust that scratched at his veins.

She froze, but he’d gotten close enough to see the expression in her eyes. Not fear. Something else. He released a breath that had been trapped tight in his chest. He took another step so she was within arm’s reach, and her gaze ran over his body. Right, he’d forgotten he was wearing only boxers. Thankfully, it was dark and he had some measure of self-control.

“What happened out there in the woods?” He kept his voice low. “What did I do, besides be an idiot?”