“I know what I’m doin’,” Charlie snapped at her. He was clearly still holding on to the remnants of a grudge. There was nothing she could do, except hope for the best. They didn’t have time for a debate. Andi shut her mouth.
The small group pushed on, crunching through the bushes, as the sun peered through the trees.
When they’d started, it had been dawn. Now, two hours later, Andi was feeling the warmth.
She stopped to peel off a layer of clothing.
Charlie called out “Stop!” and held out his hand. He was a short distance ahead, and the group of searchers gathered around him. Andi tied her sweater around her waist.
“It’s here,” Charlie called out. “I can see the tipple. The shaft must be around here somewhere.”
The group dispersed and Andi jogged over to help. Charlie pointed to his left.
“Try that way.”
Andi kept her eyes to the ground, careful to step only on solid ground. She heard Charlie calling out to the group to be careful. The last thing they needed, she thought, was for someone to fall down the shaft.
After a few minutes of fruitless searching, she looked up to see where the others were.
The dappled light made it hard to see. Andi shielded her eyes. She saw a figure in front of her. Charlie?
“Have you found it?” she called and stepped forward into a shadow. The figure said nothing. Charlie? Her eyes adjusted as she saw in horror a man holding a gun and pointing it straight at her.
Andi was frozen. Everything around her melted away. The last time she had been near a gun, she was running to save someone else. It was impulsive. She hadn’t stopped to think. But now, this gun was aimed at her. It felt like slow motion as the man readied his weapon and aimed. Andi saw a glimpse of his face as he moved slightly, and she saw he was smiling. Art Whilley. It must be. Andi took a breath and willed herself to move, but it was too late. She heard a loud crack and then everything fell silent.
Andi was still standing.
The man took off running.
“He’s going towards the tipple!”
Andi heard the other hikers crashing through the brush. She wanted to call to them, to remind them that it was only Charlie who could apprehend Whilley, but her voice seemed stuck in her throat. Was she really OK?
She looked down at her arms and legs, expecting to see blood. But it was true, she hadn’t been hit. She heard a groan from behind her. She willed herself to turn, terrified that somehow Art Whilley had doubled back and would attack from behind. But the only person she saw was Charlie Rollins.
He was lying on the ground, face up. Blood seeped from his chest.
Andi dropped to the ground and grabbed his radio. “Help us! Help us!” she screamed. “Charlie’s been shot!”
Chapter Forty
“This is as near as we get,” Harry said, pulling the throttle back. “It’s too shallow and rocky to go any further.” He killed the engine and looked at Matt. “What did they say? On the radio?”
Matt had lost all his colour.
“They’ve sighted Whilley. They think he’s in the tunnel, probably headed our way. Vega’s called the coast guard to help.”
“And?” Harry could see by Matt’s face there was something more.
“Someone’s been shot. I lost the signal and couldn’t hear who it was.”
Harry nodded. He couldn’t trust himself to speak. He felt panic rising. Please, God, don’t let it be Andi. Not again.
Clara had Harry’s binoculars and was looking at the beach.
“There,” she said, pointing and passing the binoculars to Matt. “I see a boat.”
Matt nodded. “A speedboat of some kind.” He fumbled for the radio. “I’ll call for backup.”
Harry looked at him. “Son, it’ll take a while for even the coast guard to get here. I know Vega alerted them, but Whilley could come out of that tunnel any second and get away in that boat. He could be at the border in minutes. Call Vega, but in the meantime, we need to disable that boat.”
Harry left the wheelhouse and went to the bow of the boat to drop the anchor. Matt and Clara waited for Harry on the deck while he went into his galley and came out with a shotgun.
“What are you doing?” Matt asked in alarm.
“I don’t think I can get a shot into that boat. At least, not to do enough damage to stop him trying to use it. I might just put Jade in danger of drowning.”
“So what are you thinking?”
“We can get onto the beach and make sure Whilley can’t even start the boat. We’ll use my skiff.” Harry pointed at a small dinghy chained to the stern of the Pipe Dream. “We’ll get over there, pull some wires on that speedboat and get back here. Then at least Whilley’s stuck here, or he’ll have to go back the way he came. Hopefully, Vega has manpower at the other end.”
Matt nodded. “OK, makes sense.”
Harry was relieved Matt agreed. He sensed the young constable was a bit out of his depth. But he seemed to be calm, and Harry respected him for that. Now he had to focus on the task ahead, and put his worry for Andi out of his mind.
Harry wound the cables and lowered the skiff into the water. He climbed over the side, holding his shotgun.
Matt grabbed his arm. “You can’t take that,” he said. “I have a gun. I’m the only one who should use it.”
Harry frowned, but remembered Vega’s instructions. He’d been clear on this point. Only officers may carry guns and engage with Whilley. Harry handed his gun to Clara.
“You stay, Clara. Radio if you see Whilley. Let Vega know if he runs back in the tunnel.”
Harry started the outboard and steered the little skiff until they reached the rocky beach. Matt hopped out and dragged the boat into the shallows.
Feeling his heart pounding, Harry ran over to the speedboat and started pulling at wires under the dashboard. If Whilley made it to the end of the tunnel, he wouldn’t be going any further.
***
Matt could see what Harry was doing. He wished he’d been able to take charge as effortlessly as Harry. He was still feeling sick after the boat ride and nervous about what would happen next. He felt as if thirty years of police experience had been crammed into the last few days.
“Get the fuck away from my boat.”
Matt turned to see Art Whilley standing partially behind a rock, with his arm around Jade Thompson, who seemed semi-conscious. She was leaning heavily on his arm. In his other hand, he had a gun. It was pointed at Harry.
Matt could see a large hunting knife hanging from Whilley’s belt.
“Let the girl go, Art,” Matt said, hoping his voice wasn’t shaking. “Then you can go. We only want Jade safe and sound.”
Whilley carried on speaking. It was as if Matt didn’t exist.
“You’re Harry Brown,” he said.
Harry nodded. “I am. Haven’t seen you for a while, Art. Last I heard, you burned in a fire. But you’re looking well enough now.”
Harry’s tone was casual, as if he were bantering with a buddy in the pub. Whilley’s attention was fully on Harry, and Matt knew this was the moment to take Whilley down.
As Harry talked, Matt eased his Smith & Wesson from his holster. He tried to keep calm and remember his training.
“When you pull your gun, all bets are off,” he remembered his instructor saying. “It’s not a negotiation after that. You shoot to kill, not to wound.”
“Art Whilley, put your gun down,” Matt shouted as loud as possible, hoping to catch Whilley off guard.
Instead, he swung round and pulled Jade Thompson closer.
“You won’t shoot. You won’t risk killing the mayor here.”
Harry said, “Come on now, Art. It’s all over. We all know what’s going on. What’s the use of taking Jade? What do you think you’re going to do with her?”
Art Whilley looked back at Harry and then at Matt. Then he started laughing.
“You’re just a kid. Still wet behind the ears. I bet you’ve
never shot that gun in your life, have you?”
Matt ignored what Whilley was saying. He could see the older man’s arm holding Jade was trembling. He must be in his sixties, he thought. He’s just trekked through a long tunnel dragging Jade. He can’t hold on for much longer. He’ll have to make a break or drop her.
Whilley waved his gun at Harry.
“Get out.”
Harry did as he was told but tried again. “Art, Clara’s on my boat. She tried to help you, remember? And what about Ann South? She cared about you. Don’t let them down, man.”
Art seemed to hesitate. “They all betrayed me. They took everything. I tried to make them like me . . . but I was no better than an animal. Prey. And now I’m doing the hunting. Just like Clara showed me.”
“Whilley, I won’t ask you again, drop the gun and move away from Miss Thompson,” Matt said, as calmly as he was able.
“No, I’ve got a better idea.”
In one movement, Art dropped Jade and aimed the gun directly at Matt.
This was it. He must not fail.
Matt pulled the trigger. But he’d forgotten. “Twelve pounds of pressure on that trigger,” the inspector said. “You can’t hesitate.”
A gun fired. Matt looked down. It wasn’t his. He was still standing. Harry was still standing. Time seemed suspended as Matt tried to figure out what had just happened.
Art Whilley looked confused. Jade Thompson was sprawled on the ground. Art Whilley crumpled slowly, blood gushing from a hole in the side of his head.
Matt and Harry rushed forward.
“Clara,” Harry said. “Got him behind the ear. Took him down like a deer.”
Matt looked back at the Pipe Dream and saw the woman standing there, still aiming the shotgun, her white hair blowing in the sea breeze.
“Matt!” Harry brought Matt’s attention back to the present. “Jade’s unconscious. What’s wrong with her? Did he poison her?”
Matt felt Jade’s pulse. “She’s still alive. Her lips are blue and her breathing’s shallow. I think it’s carbon monoxide poisoning.”
“Right, gases from the tunnel,” Harry said. “What do we do?”
“Nothing,” Matt said. “Nothing we can do, except hope she can hold on until help comes.”
Just then they heard a rhythmic thump, thump, thump.
Matt looked up.
“Thank God. Or Clara. It’s the coast guard helicopter.”
Epilogue
Jim climbed down the ladder.
“All hooked up,” he said to Clara and stood back to admire the new solar panels installed on her trailer. He’d been checking in on Clara every few days, until she’d told him to stop.
“I’m fine. Don’t be bothering me,” she’d told him.
But Jim turned up anyway, fixing a few things in her trailer.
“How do they work again?” Clara asked a little suspiciously, gazing up at the sleek panels which looked out of place in her rustic homestead.
Jim laughed. “It’s OK, Clara, it’s easy. You don’t need to do anything.”
He explained how they worked and showed her how to switch to the generator as backup.
“So less diesel, then?” Clara asked.
“Way less,” Jim said, and her face broke into a wide smile.
* * *
An excavator blocked the sun.
Mayor Jade Thompson-Ellis cut a ribbon and waved to the operator.
A large metal claw descended slowly, crashing through the roof of the old fish plant. It grabbed a load of rotten rafters and debris, like a giant mechanical bird collecting twigs, and swung back and deposited them in a massive dumpster.
There was a ripple of applause from the watching crowd. Summer Thompson was at the front, beaming with pride.
Andi was surprised to find herself so elated to see the crumbling fish plant being demolished. It’s just a building, she thought. But it symbolized so much more — as if it was bringing closure to a horrible murder and an end of sorts to the trauma of the last few months.
Andi thought Jade had bounced back quickly. After being treated for carbon monoxide poisoning, she’d taken a few weeks off and had some counselling. Jade had handed Andi a business card when Andi interviewed her. It was for a counselling service in Nanaimo.
“She helped me, and she’s still helping me,” Jade said. “Why suffer when you don’t need to? Doesn’t make any logical sense.”
The card was still in Andi’s purse. She’d taken it out and put it back several times. But she was sure she would make and keep an appointment. It was time those nightmares stopped for good.
Andi saw Charlie Rollins in the crowd. It was the first week of his retirement. This morning, the Coffin Cove Gazette carried a photograph of him smiling and accepting an award for bravery, accompanying Andi’s story about Charlie saving her from a crazed killer.
Matt Beaufort stood beside him. He was staying on for the time being, he’d told Andi. He wanted more experience before he transferred to a city. Besides, the detachment was getting an overhaul and some new equipment. Plus, the mayor had found enough money in the budget for an extra full-time officer. It was the service Coffin Cove deserved, she’d said.
Doug and Terri South were not there.
Andi knew they had a special appointment. Today, Art Whilley would be laid to rest in the Coffin Cove cemetery. It was a controversial decision, Doug said he knew, but the secret ceremony was to remember the boy, not the killer. It would have pleased Ann, Doug’s mother. Andi had decided not to report this in the Gazette.
Katie Dagg stood beside Lee. The museum was open, and the first exhibit was called “Pioneer Women” and featured Clara Bell, who had offered to tell stories to the tourists. For a fee, she had told Katie sternly.
Jim tapped Andi on the shoulder.
“I hear Lee and Katie are moving,” he said. “Hell’s Half Acre will be vacant. Unless Wayne comes back.”
Andi nodded but said nothing. The last time she’d talked to Andrew Vega, he’d told her about a second set of human remains they’d recovered from the chapel, just where they had found Ricky Havers. Forensics were still working on it, he said, but he was certain they belonged to Wayne Dagg.
Andi and Andrew Vega had met for a coffee before he caught the floatplane back to the mainland. Andi had felt awkward at first, remembering the intimate moment they had shared. Maybe Vega felt the same, because at first, he’d talked a lot.
Vega had been suspended. Superintendent Sinclair had no other option, he explained to Andi. He’d simply not followed standard procedure.
“But you saved Jade Thompson,” Andi said. “If you hadn’t authorized the search parties, she’d be dead now. And maybe more people. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“It does,” Vega said, smiling, “but an officer was shot, and a civilian killed a suspect. There are rules, Andi, in my job. I broke them, and now I have to pay the price.”
But he went on to tell her the better news. Nanaimo RCMP had credited his team for helping crack the drug ring. Kevin Wildman had provided enough information to lead the drug squad to the Knights’ headquarters. In a small warehouse, they had found a stash of drugs matching the “dukes” on the street. Interestingly, they also found a freezer and traces of embalming fluid. Vega was sure they would link the warehouse with Art Whilley.
“Can I print that?”
“Sure. It’s a scoop, right?” Vega had teased her. But then he’d looked serious. “You were right about a lot of things, Andi. You have good instincts.”
Andi had wanted to ask what it was she’d been right about, but the distant throb of an engine got nearer, ending their conversation.
As the floatplane taxied to the dock, Andi had impulsively blurted out, “What now? For you and me, I mean.”
Andrew Vega had stood still and then reached out an arm to pull her into a hug.
“I hope there can be a ‘you and me’, Andi. But . . .”
“But I’m a journalist and
you’re a police officer?”
Vega had nodded.
“It would always be complicated.”
Jim poked her in the ribs, interrupting her thoughts. “Are you ready? Harry’s cooking.”
“I know,” Andi said and smiled. “Hey, Jim, did you know halibut have cheeks?”
Jim rolled his eyes. “Everyone knows that,” he said, and they walked down the boardwalk to the Pipe Dream, where Harry was waiting.
THE END
ALSO BY JACKIE ELLIOTT
COFFIN COVE MYSTERIES
Book 1: COFFIN COVE
Book 2: HELL’S HALF ACRE
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