Donovan slid a sidelong glance at Shawn. “We’ve arrested Mr. Arbury.”
When Shawn had called Donovan to let him know they believed Martin Raupp was involved in Cassie’s kidnapping and that they were on their way to the Spectrum factory where they believed he was holding her, he’d also told Donovan where he could find Teddy Arbury.
“Two days ago you called your sister?”
“The bathroom in the panic room flooded a few days before. The smell was awful.” Cassie’s nose crinkled, and her face twisted in disgust. “On the second day, I woke up after lunch, my hands tied behind my back, in an office. They’d moved me so they could have the bathroom fixed.”
“How did you get a phone? And why didn’t you call 911?” Donovan asked.
“If there was a phone in the room to begin with, they’d taken it out, but I was able to work one of the desk drawers open, and I found my wallet and cell phone inside. I used the facial recognition to unlock it and voice commands to call Addy, but I was still groggy from whatever they’d put in the food. Mr. Raupp must have heard me talking.”
Donovan scratched the back of his neck and shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, but there is no good way to ask this next question, Miss Williams.”
Addy’s back straightened under Shawn’s arm. She squeezed Cassie’s hand in support.
“Why do you think Martin Raupp kidnapped you instead of, well, instead of—”
“Killing me?” Cassie visibly swallowed.
“Well, yes, ma’am.”
The fire that ignited in Cassie when she’d begun talking seemed to have fizzled. “I don’t know.”
Shawn spoke up. “This is just speculation, but we think Raupp knew Intellus was onto the fraud. They weren’t sure exactly who was behind it, which is why they hired us, but we were closing in. The death of a Spectrum intern would have invited scrutiny that Raupp probably wanted to avoid until after he’d put the fraudulent chips out into the market.”
Donovan shook his head. “That makes sense. We may never get a for-sure answer. Neither Raupp nor Teddy is talking.” Donovan closed his notebook. “It’s hard to imagine something like this happening in my town.” Donovan patted Cassie’s knee. “I think that’s all I need for now. You get well,” he said before leaving the hospital room.
“Did Dr. Rose answer all your questions?” Cassie rolled her eyes at her sister.
Addy reached for Cassie’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Yes, he did. He wants to keep you for observation overnight, but he said you can go home tomorrow morning.”
“Yippee. I am so ready for home. New York home.”
“And I’m so ready to have you back home in New York.” Addy smiled at Cassie.
“Shawn.” Ryan’s voice came from the doorway.
“Be right back.” He planted a kiss on Addy’s temple and earned a cheeky eyebrow raise from Cassie before exiting the room.
He and Shawn moved farther down the hall, away from the door. From the hard set of Ryan’s jaw, he wasn’t going to like whatever his brother was about to say.
“Intellus wants a debrief ASAP. In person. We can be on a flight out in three hours if we leave now.”
Shawn’s head was shaking before Ryan finished his last sentence. “I can’t leave Addy right now.”
Ryan crossed his arms over his chest. “Addy and her sister are fine. Didn’t I hear her say they were headed back to New York tomorrow?” When Shawn didn’t reply, Ryan added, “Intellus is our client. You were the principal on this. No one else is going to be able to debrief as well as you.”
“Go.”
Shawn turned at the sound of Addy’s voice behind him. Shawn shook his head. “I’m not going to leave you to deal with everything on your own.”
Addy’s shoulders rose, then dropped. “What everything? Cassie and I can get ourselves back to New York.”
“I don’t think—” He stopped when Addy stepped in close to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and looking up into his eyes.
“Go. I’ll be here when you get back.”
He placed a light kiss on Addy’s lips. “Promise?”
Addy’s smile was blinding. “Absolutely.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dr. Rose discharged Cassie from the hospital at eight the next morning. They didn’t even bother to stop at the sheriff’s office and pick up the things Addy and Shawn had found in Cassie’s attic. By eleven they were back in New York City.
Addy felt like it was the first time she’d taken a breath since Cassie went missing.
For three days after they got home, her entire focus was on taking care of Cassie. Her independent sister let her hover for two days, but her patience with the mothering had worn thin.
Cassie was out now, at a friend’s house, working on getting some sense of normalcy back. Addy had received several recommendations for therapists. She and Cassie agreed that seeing one together could go a long way to helping them both heal. They had their first appointment next week.
On the second night they were back in New York, they’d gone out for a nice dinner and had a long talk about the future. Cassie admitted she planned to turn down MIT’s acceptance and attend university in the city. Addy couldn’t be happier to keep her sister close, and considering Addy was now unemployed, she appreciated that Cassie’s decision to attend school in the city took a lot of the financial pressure off.
Now here she was, less than a week before Christmas, sitting at the small desk in the corner of her bedroom, ostensibly to put out feelers, hoping to set up some job interviews in the new year. But she’d spent more time thinking about Shawn than searching job sites. They’d shared several short text conversations and two even shorter phone calls since he’d left the hospital headed for Silicon Valley. She missed him more than she could have imagined. In the few short days they’d spent together searching for Cassie, she’d fallen totally and irreversibly in love with Shawn West, despite her best efforts.
During their conversation last night, Shawn had told her that he might need to stay in California for another week.
The separation disappointed her, but it was the distant tone in his voice that scared her. She couldn’t help but wonder if, now that the adrenaline had worn off, Shawn was reconsidering a relationship with her.
She inhaled deeply, let it out slowly and focused on the computer in front of her. She’d put out feelers and had received a surprising invitation to discuss a job opportunity from Brandon West, Shawn’s brother.
Brandon West’s firm was small, just him and a couple of paralegals, based on his website. But the work they did was innovative. They were a long way from offer and acceptance, but joining his firm would mean reimagining what her career could be. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that, so she hadn’t responded to his email yet. The description of his firm and the work he did was intriguing, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about working with Shawn’s brother. Especially if she and Shawn didn’t work out.
The doorbell rang.
She opened the door and froze.
Shawn stood in front of her.
“Hi.” He smiled, but it was shaky and unsure. Very un-Shawn-like.
Her heart fell into her stomach, but she forced a smile onto her face. If he was there to call things off, she’d accept his decision with grace.
“Hi.” The word came out thinner, breathier than she intended.
They stared at each other for a long moment before Shawn spoke. “May I come in?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” she said, moving aside so he could stride past her into the apartment.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, closing the door and leading Shawn into the living room.
“I just followed one of your neighbors in. He didn’t even look at me.”
“That’s not what I meant. You said you needed to be in Cali
fornia for another week.”
“I know, but right after we got off the phone, I realized that the place I truly needed to be was with you.”
“Really?” A smile so wide it hurt Addy’s cheeks spread across her face.
Shawn’s smile mirrored her own. “I think I knew it six months ago, when I caught you undressing me with your eyes across the reception hall at my brother’s wedding.”
She scoffed, but her smile didn’t dim. “I was not undressing you with my eyes.”
Shawn arched an eyebrow, his eyes blazing with heat. “Well, maybe you can do that later, then?”
A laugh bubbled out of Addy. “So I guess we’re giving this relationship thing a whirl, then.”
“For as long as we both shall live, princess. For as long as we both shall live.”
* * *
Look for the next book in K.D. Richards’s
West Investigations series when
Christmas Data Breach
goes on sale in October.
And if you missed the first book in the series,
Pursuit of the Truth is available now
wherever Harlequin Intrigue books are sold!
Keep reading for an excerpt from Dead in the Water by Janice Kay Johnson.
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Dead in the Water
by Janice Kay Johnson
Chapter One
Claire Holland cautiously separated the flaps of her tent to look out. At least there was no patter of rain, but after two cold, foggy days of paddling while battling ocean swells, she was ready for dry and warm.
She and her partner, Mike Maguire, had chosen to follow the western shore of Calvert Island off the coast of British Columbia, Canada, unshielded from the open Pacific Ocean, and it had been all the challenge any sea kayaker could wish. A brutal headwind had been followed by ten-foot-high ocean swells as they crossed Hakai Passage. Claire had been immensely grateful for last night’s campsite above a beautiful sandy beach on Triquet Island.
She blinked at the view outside her tent. Sunshine, dazzling her eyes.
As was the case on most of the BC coast, the setting was glorious. The wooded arms of the inlet wrapped around them, and they could see a cluster of the small rocky islets that dotted the short stretches of water between these islands, creating a maze of narrow passages. The air was salty, but she could smell the sharp tang of the spruce and cedar trees a few feet away.
Mike crawled out of his own tent and grinned as he rose to his feet and stretched his lanky body. “Wow. Maybe we should camp here for a week or two. We don’t have to tell people we didn’t really get to Goose Island.”
She laughed. “What say we dawdle, at least?”
So that’s what they did while they waited for high tide, which made launching a lot easier anyway. No hauling their heavily loaded kayaks—or their kayaks and then their gear—across the distance exposed by the low tide.
After a breakfast of oatmeal and coffee, Claire happily shed several layers of clothes to bask in
almost-warm sunshine—this was only June, after all—while they waited for the tide to rise. She and Mike laid damp clothing and gear out to dry and indulged in an extra cup of coffee.
Today, all they planned to do anyway was wander. Both had paddled most of the Inside Passage from Washington State to Alaska before, although not together. For this trip, they’d agreed to check out some of the most scenic and less-traveled groups of islands on the coast, and catch the ferry home from Prince Rupert in Alaska, just over the border from Canada.
“Hate to say it, Claire,” Mike said, nodding toward the shore.
She made a face at him. She’d already broken down her tent and rolled her sleeping bag, but still had to pack up the camp stove and minimal pans and dishes. Plus, they’d spread out more than usual.
They’d met at a kayaking class that she’d taken to strengthen her skills so that she could tackle more adventurous trips. Having been paired up for some drills, they’d gotten along well. After the class ended, they took day trips, then weekend explorations in the San Juan Islands and the Canadian gulf coast islands. Fortunately, Claire and Mike’s wife, Shelby, hit it off right away. She was lucky Mike’s wife let her “borrow” him, as Shelby put it. Shelby, who liked to sun herself on a beach in the Caribbean or Hawaii but hated getting cold or dirty, was perfectly willing to loan out her husband for the totally insane hobby he and Claire shared. As far as Claire could tell, Shelby had never had a moment of worry about the two of them together, isolated, off for weeks on this journey.
Claire wrinkled her nose at the thought. Gee, the fact that Shelby was stunningly beautiful and possessed eye-popping curves might have something to do with it. Mike was madly in love with his wife, too, or Claire wouldn’t have agreed to this jaunt.
Thank goodness she no longer had to worry about what Devin—or any man, for that matter—thought.
Long practice allowed both to stuff their dry bags quickly, leaving air in them to increase buoyancy, and jam their possessions into their kayaks, lighter items at the stern and bow, heavier things like the tent, food bags and water close to the cockpit. The worst part, as far as she was concerned, was suiting up for another day on the water. She thought every time about the oft-used image of sticking your hand in a bucketful of worms. The inside of her wet suit was always clammy. And, even more fun, she had to squirm and contort to pull the stretchy neoprene over her body and get her arms inserted into the sleeves and her feet into the molded booties. With the day so pleasant and their plans so unambitious, she almost tucked away her gloves rather than wearing them, but then looked ruefully at her hands. She’d acquired a few blisters that had popped, and, gee, the rash from the devil’s club she’d encountered two days ago still burned.
Oh, fine. On with the gloves.
Once suited up, she reminded herself how happy she was on the water in her sleek blue Boréal Design Baffin Series kayak. She’d found much-needed peace and self-confidence in exploring the wilderness in her watercraft.
After she and Mike took turns slipping into the cold ocean, Claire looked around with pleasure. The water was almost completely still, a deceptive blue shimmer disguising the strength of tides and currents beneath. She barely had to dip her paddle in to send her kayak gliding forward. Those islets topped by stunted trees blocked much of the view ahead as they emerged from the long cove that sheltered last night’s camp spot and zigzagged among the cluster of islands.
They hadn’t seen another soul in days, only larger ships out on Queen Charlotte Sound and cabin cruisers and fishing boats at a distance when they crossed Hakai Passage, so it was a surprise twenty minutes later to hear voices carrying over the water. Probably, they came from one of those cabin cruisers or fishing boats whose skipper had chosen to anchor here. Larger boats kept their distance from the intricate maze of islands, inlets and passages in this part of the British Columbia Queens Sound, a small slice of the vast Queen Charlotte Sound that was cluttered with tiny islands on this western edge of the BC coast. Charts weren’t always accurate.
Mike was ahead when he passed an islet almost large enough to classify as an island, although it was unlikely to have ever been named. She heard him say, “What the—”
Some instinct had her back paddling, although she’d already glided forward enough to see what had startled him: an older coastal freighter, probably no more than forty or fifty meters long but still wildly out of place. A crane on its forward deck was currently swinging a pallet of something heavy onto the smaller deck of a shining white yacht. Men were working aboard both yacht and freighter, neither of which would be able to linger h
ere long with the tide already ebbing. And why they’d tucked themselves in among tiny islands— No, she thought slowly. They must want to be unseen. She’d read that smuggling was common across both the land and water borders between Canada and the US. People, drugs, who knew what else.
Mike’s neon-red-and-orange kayak moved well into the open, even though he wasn’t paddling. The frightened instinct telling her that neither ship belonged here kept Claire hovering in the shelter of the islet. Wispy branches of a twisted cedar hung low enough she was able to reach up and grab one to hold herself in place, her kayak bumping and scraping along the vertical rocks as the nearly unseen waves lifted and dropped. Through the feathery branch, she saw the moment someone on board the freighter noticed Mike.
The man shouted a name. Everyone visible on both the yacht and the small freighter turned to look.
Mike lifted a hand and called, “Hello!”
People tended to be friendly in these waters. Several times earlier in the trip, he and Claire had been invited to have dinner aboard one large cabin cruiser or another, most recently enjoying a wide-ranging conversation with a retired couple who said they spent most summers cruising between the San Juan Islands and Alaska.
But this—
Horror filled her chest when one of the men on the freighter lifted a rifle.
Mike saw, thrust his paddle into the water to push backward. Stunned, Claire was still watching the guy with the rifle when a crack, crack, crack nearly deafened her, and something skimmed the water only a few feet from her kayak.
A bullet.
Events had become slow-motion. Mike jerked, then slumped sideways. His weight carried his kayak into a roll. To hide in the water, she prayed, but he didn’t reemerge. Untethered, his paddle drifted loose on the surface. Hull up, the kayak floated at the mercy of the tide.
Missing at Christmas Page 18
