The Killing Tide

by Dani Pettrey

  “Who are you?” Fletcher slurred.

  Finn pulled up a seat. While he knew Will well, he only knew Dennis Fletcher from Will’s brief mentions of him. “I’m Special Agent Finn Walker.” He held up his CGIS badge.

  “Coast Guard Investigative Service. Good. Maybe you can catch the guys who killed Will and nearly me.”

  “About that . . .” Finn said, scooting closer to Fletcher, careful to avoid the IV stand situated by the head of the hospital bed.

  “Are you up for answering a few questions?”

  Fletcher sat up at an angle, looking more beaten up than he had in Finn’s initial survey of his injuries. “I’ll do my best. Whatever it takes to help find Will’s killer, but I have to warn you, my head’s fuzzy at best.”

  “We’ll take it slow. How about we start with what you remember happening?” It was hard to restrain the massive flow of questions racing through his mind. Like how he managed to get away? What was the secret Will was keeping? And was Fletcher involved as well, as Tess believed?

  “Will and I headed out at sunset for some fishing. We were about to head back when two men rushed us. We didn’t even hear them board.”

  “What did they look like?”

  “They were in scuba gear.”

  “Tanks and all?”

  “No. Just full body suits. One knocked me to the ground with a hard crack to my head. He must have thought he knocked me out because he left me alone. Then the other man had a heated argument with Will.”

  “About what?”

  “I don’t know. He spoke Spanish.”

  “And Will? Did he respond in Spanish?”

  “Yes.”

  “The arguing grew more heated. I stood and fought one guy, but the other pulled a gun on Will, and a shot rang out. Both men’s attention focused on Will. I rushed up on deck and over to the outboard, nearly tripping over the men’s scuba tanks and fins on the way. More shots rang out as I flopped into the outboard and then at least one more as I rode away.”

  “So the men dove to your location?”

  “They must have.” He slowly shook his head, as if trying to clear the cobwebs. “I think I hit my head again when I fell into the outboard . . . and banged my shoulder. I took off as fast as I could, anxious to get help for Will, but the next thing I remember is waking up here.” He cleared his throat. “I heard what happened to your man trying to rescue me. I’m sorry.”

  Finn kept his thoughts focused on the questions for Fletcher. “Do you think they spent the night searching for you?”

  Fletcher shrugged, then winced at the motion. “Must have.” He coughed, wincing again.

  “Any idea what the men wanted?”

  “I don’t speak Spanish.”

  “Anything else?”

  “That’s all I remember.”

  The doc entered. “That’s enough for today,” he said to Finn. “My patient needs to rest.”

  “Of course. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  Finn headed for the morgue. Hadley had texted, letting him know he was about to begin the autopsy on the drug runner Caleb had killed while trying to protect Sam. If only they’d reacted a moment faster, maybe Sam would still be alive.

  He hadn’t seen Gabby since he’d asked her to leave Fletcher’s room. She clearly wasn’t happy with him, and he worried she may be talking with Tess. . . . Come to think of it, he didn’t see her either.

  He stopped short.

  “Gabby,” he breathed as he turned around and rushed for the lobby. She wouldn’t . . .

  An extremely frustrating twenty minutes later, after searching the hospital, having Gabby and Tess paged, and trying both on their phones repeatedly, he’d concluded that he was right—she’d left the hospital. She and Tess were together, and they were gone.

  Thankfully, it only took a minute with Reggie, the valet, to learn of their destination. The Coffee Connection on Market Street. He should have known. The two went nearly every day throughout Gabby’s winter stay.

  Climbing into his Nissan Rogue, he plopped the cherry on his dash, lit it up, and rushed for downtown.

  eighteen

  Rissi followed Noah into the station. The three surviving drug runners were being held in separate rooms. Caleb sat interrogating a man in the far right one, while guardsmen stood watch at the other doors.

  Caleb looked back through the glass and nodded at them. He stood and stepped into the hall. “He’s the one who killed Sam,” he said, pointing at the man. “I talked plenty, but he isn’t. Didn’t even ask for a lawyer after we Mirandized him. None of them did.”

  “Let Rissi take a crack at him,” Noah said.

  “Of course.” Caleb nodded.

  Father, please help us get a confession. This man took our friend and teammate’s life. Let justice be done, she prayed, pausing outside the interrogation room.

  The team relied on her in these situations, relied on her knack for getting suspects to talk. She had no idea why God had gifted her in that area, but He had. As upsetting as it could be, she was grateful for her role in getting to the heart of a killer and bringing out the truth.

  Taking a steadying breath and releasing it, she entered.

  The man—midtwenties and Latino—didn’t bother looking up.

  Anger at his indifference for so capriciously taking a man’s life sizzled through her limbs.

  Taking and releasing another attempt at a calming breath, she pulled out a metal chair and sat on the cool seat. She slid a legal pad and pen to the man.

  “Write your confession.”

  “I want my phone call,” he said, speaking for the first time since his arrest, his accent thick and heavy.

  “All right.” She sighed. He had the right, but it was frustrating that was the route he’d gone. Though she knew the chances of an outright confession had been slim-to-none.

  Having no choice except to let him exercise his right, she watched as Noah walked in and unlocked his cuffs from the steel ring on the table. He escorted him to the phone at his desk and settled the man in his seat, cuffing one arm to the chair arm.

  Rissi leaned against the doorframe, the metal cool against her bare arm. She hadn’t had time to change into professional clothes since the competition, so she decided to change while the suspect made his call. In the locker room, she swapped her tank, swimsuit, and shorts for a pair of navy trousers, a white blouse, and navy Tieks.

  Stuffing her shed clothes into her locker, she glanced over at Sam’s.

  Why, Lord?

  She teared up at the thought of Beth without a husband and Ali without a father.

  Exhaling a jerky breath, she shut her locker and rested her head against it.

  Please be a shelter for Beth and Ali. Help me to anticipate any needs and to be there for them. Protect their hearts and mine in the sorrow.

  She hated being vulnerable, and today had made her taste the sting of death. Sam was a believer, and according to Finn, Will was, too, so at least they were in a better place, but that didn’t change the heartache those left behind had to endure.

  After a brief knock and her call to come in, the door creaked open and she turned her head to find Caleb standing there.

  He tapped the door’s edge and then strode to her. “You okay?”

  She lifted her head off the locker and linked her arms across her chest, rubbing the chill from them.

  He pulled her into his strong arms. “It sucks.”

  Caleb was a man of few words, but he always got straight to the point, and she appreciated the brevity.

  “It all happened so fast. I worked with Sam yesterday, and today he’s gone.”

  “It always happens too fast. Even with long illnesses the end goes too quick.” He cradled her head in his hand. “It makes me want to live differently.”

  She looked up, tears burning her eyes. “How?”

  “To never put things off because you never know when it’ll be too late.”

  Suddenly she felt very small and exposed.
/>
  “Ris?”

  She looked around Caleb’s shoulder to see Noah at the door.

  He rubbed his forehead. “He’s done with his call.”

  She stepped back from Caleb’s embrace. “Coming.” Swiping the moisture from her eyes, she stepped around Caleb. “Thanks,” she said, looking back.

  “Anytime. I’m always here for you.”

  “And I appreciate it very much.”

  He nodded and followed her out.

  “He spoke in Spanish on the phone—low and hushed,” Noah said. “But I understood a few words. Help and sorry.”

  Noah stepped to his desk, uncuffed the man, and escorted him back into the interrogation room, recuffing him to the table.

  Emmalyne Thorton appeared at the door, her poppy-patterned, flowing skirt and matching red blouse a bright spot in an otherwise dark day. “I found some information.” She handed Noah a manila folder.

  “Thanks,” Noah said, shutting the door and skimming the folder.

  Rissi retook her seat, but Noah remained standing—providing a level of intimidation as he brooded over the man. After reading the folder’s contents, he handed it to Rissi and shifted into an at-ease stance. His military training lingered in a number of ways. He’d served in the Coast Guard a handful of years before attending CGIS A-school and becoming a civilian with the Investigative Service.

  Rissi read the file. The man in front of her was Juan Cadarz, an illegal immigrant from Cuba.

  “Juan,” Noah said, “why don’t you tell us what happened today?”

  Juan swallowed at the mention of his name and shifted in his seat, but he remained frustratingly silent.

  She couldn’t help but wonder whom he’d called and what was said.

  nineteen

  Difficult as it was to ignore her reporter instincts, Gabby waited for Tess to begin. She didn’t want to rush her friend or overwhelm her with questions.

  They were nearly at the Coffee Connection when Tess finally spoke.

  “I had the sickest feeling when Will left for his fishing trip with Dennis.”

  “When did you realize Will hadn’t come back?”

  Tess shook her head, kneading her fingers together, soft pink polish chipped from nibbling teeth. “Not until I woke up this morning. I feel so bad I didn’t stay awake or wake up and notice he wasn’t there. This pregnancy has me conking out by eight every night. Will and Dennis always stayed out until the last light vanished before heading back. He said it would be at least ten by the time they cleaned the boat and he hung out a bit. I didn’t really expect him before eleven. Will was thoughtful but often lost track of time.”

  “So you called the Coast Guard when you woke and realized he hadn’t come back?”

  “I woke early, and when he didn’t answer his phone, I decided to drive to Dennis’s place. Every now and then Will would crash there, but he hadn’t called me, and before he did something like that, he always called. His truck was still there, and the boat wasn’t at the dock, so when no one answered the door, I panicked and called the Coast Guard.”

  “No one else lives at Dennis’s place?”

  “No. He lives alone. He and Val split about six months ago.”

  “He’s divorced?”

  Tess shook her head. “They’re estranged. It’s weird, if you ask me.”

  Finding a parking spot on the street outside of the Coffee Connection, Gabby decided to hold off on further questions until they were situated in the café. The scent of roasted coffee beans mingled with peppermint tea swirled in the air as they entered. The espresso machine whirred as they stepped farther in.

  Paul Barnes, the owner, greeted them. “Hey, lovely ladies. It’s been a while.” He came around the waist-high counter to give Gabby a hug. “How ya doing, kid?”

  She hugged the sweet, fifty-something man back, always loving the spicy scent of his cologne. “It’s been a rough day.”

  “I heard there was some commotion with the Guard. I heard an officer was killed, but I don’t know if that’s true. You know how gossip runs.”

  “It’s true,” Tess said, her eyes welling with tears.

  “No.” He shook his head. “Not Will?”

  Tess nodded as she broke into sobs.

  “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Of course not.” Tess dabbed her eyes with a scrunched-up tissue.

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know yet. Only that he was murdered.” Tess sniffed.

  “Murdered?” His gray eyes widened. “By who?”

  Tess looked overwhelmed by Paul’s questions, so Gabby decided to answer for her. “We don’t know yet, but Finn said he would get to the bottom of it.”

  “Finn’s leading the investigation?”

  “Yes.” Gabby nodded.

  “You’ve got a good one there.” She didn’t know if Paul was referring to Finn’s leading the investigation or her winter relationship with him. News spread fast in the Coast Guard community.

  “Let’s grab a seat,” she said, placing her hand on the small of her friend’s back—arched slightly to compensate for her protruding belly.

  “Please, sit. I’ll bring your usual,” Paul said, hustling back around the counter.

  “Thanks,” Gabby said over her shoulder as she looked for an open table with some privacy. The brown leather chairs by the unlit fireplace were full, along with the tables lining the wide back hallway. Which left them either seats at the communal farm-style table running down the center of the shop, or a table in the front-window alcove.

  She didn’t want them talking so close to other people sitting at the farm-style table, but if Finn came looking for her, she’d be easier to spot in the window.

  “Over there,” Tess said through a sniff.

  Gabby relented and moved with her friend to the table by the window.

  The whir of the espresso machine heightened to a whistle, steam wafting over the bronze machine as Paul poured the dark brown liquid from the espresso glasses into their paper cups. Soon the sound and smell of frothing, steaming milk invaded her senses.

  Tess fingered a straw she’d pulled from the jar on the table, twirling it between her fingers. She looked ready to talk, so Gabby started the conversation. “So you were saying when no one answered at Fletcher’s place, you called the Coast Guard and . . .”

  “They assured me they would look into it and told me not to imagine the worst, but panic set in. The guys had been out at sea all night. That wasn’t like Will at all. He’d never stay out all night. Not without getting word to me. I knew then that the worst had happened. If I’m completely honest, I knew something bad was going to happen as soon as Will walked out the door.”

  “What did you fear happening?”

  Tess leaned forward, then stilled as Paul carried their drinks over.

  “Here you go, ladies, and some muffins on the house,” he said, setting the plates down in front of them. The sweet, tangy scent of blueberries and butter swirled in the air.

  “Thanks,” Gabby said.

  “I’m so sorry, Tessie,” he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “You let me know if you need anything, ya hear?”

  “Thanks.” Tess nodded then remained quiet until he’d walked away.

  She leaned forward and whispered, “I feared something terrible would happen to Will. I even had a nightmare about him dying.”

  “Why were you so sure something bad was going to happen? Was it just a feeling or something more?” She thoroughly believed in instinct—it’s what kept her alive in the field . . . until it nearly didn’t. She’d been played a fool once. She’d never be that vulnerable again.

  “Before Will left he told me he’d gotten into something he shouldn’t have and was in over his head. He promised me he was getting out that night, said he’d make things right for me and Will Jr.” She ran her hand over her belly in soothing, rhythmic strokes.

  Gabby tried her best not to go all-out-reporter. Friendship t
rumped story, even if her instincts and desire to uncover the truth were screaming to dive deeper. She paced herself while still proceeding forward. “Did he say what he’d gotten into?”

  “No. But whatever it was, I believe Dennis has to be involved.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because there had been this weird dynamic between them lately.”

  “How so?”

  “I don’t know, exactly. It was like they were keeping a secret. You know the looks you share with someone when the two of you know something no one else does. The way you move off to the side to talk quietly to each other or how you shift the conversation when it touches on a subject you don’t want others to overhear.” She exhaled. “And it’s not just that. The stress that comes from carrying a secret around—especially if it’s not something you’re supposed to be doing—hung heavy on Will. He was anxious, tired, worried. I could read it on his face. I asked him what was going on, but he just said work was hectic.”

  Gabby thought she’d been astute at reading situations and, more importantly, people, but she’d completely dropped the ball with Asim. Somehow she’d missed the red flags. Either he’d been a perfect liar, or she’d been too blinded by love. Had she totally misjudged Will too? How could sweet, faithful Will be involved in anything illegal?

  Based on drug runners attacking Fletcher and the rescue team, she’d guess it was drugs. Had he and Fletcher been trafficking drugs on the side? It didn’t seem real, or even plausible, yet here they were.

  Had Will told the drug runners he was out, and it went very wrong? Had he told Fletcher? How had he reacted? Was he in on it, too, as Tess believed?

  So many possibilities, but from the attention Fletcher was getting at the hospital, if anything, it appeared he was being treated as a hero for “going for help” and for surviving.

  She had her next story—one she was doing for her friend’s sake. She’d discover if Fletcher was involved or not. At this point, it really could go either way. It’d be her job to uncover the truth.

  Gabby exhaled and looked up. She winced at the sight of Finn striding through the door, irritation sparking in his green eyes.