In Dark Water (Rarity Cove Book 3)

by Leslie Tentler

  Noah frowned. “Why the sudden concern for Mercer Leighton?”

  “Not her. You. My men.” Skin mottled, he used his shirtsleeve to wipe at the perspiration that had begun to bead on his forehead. “If Draper and his group ambushed that safe house, there’d be bloodshed.”

  Bell ran a shaking hand over his mouth. “But they started leaning harder on me. They threatened to rat me out to the department—”

  “That’s when you called in the Marshals. To get her off your hands?”

  “That was my hope.” Head bowed, Bell dragged a hand through his graying hair. “Turns out they have someone at the Marshals Service in their pocket, too. They found out about the transfer into WITSEC.”

  Noah’s voice was cold with contempt. “So, they devised a plan with your help and the help of whoever their informant is within the Marshals Service.”

  Bell peered up at him. “As God is my witness, I swear that it wasn’t supposed to go down like it did! They told me they were only going to detain the marshals until their men could meet up with you and Tyson for the hand-off. You’d have no reason to think they weren’t the real marshals and the transfer would go peacefully. I-I didn’t know they were going to kill anyone—”

  “Other than an innocent woman.” Noah seethed inwardly.

  There was nothing Bell could say to that. His demeanor seemingly now resigned, his eyes reddened. “What are you going to do, Noah? You’re going to arrest me like that?”

  Noah understood that Bell meant in his current condition, with his arm in a sling. The wound throbbed steadily and his body nearly vibrated with exhaustion. He had barely been able to drive here. With every hour that passed, he could feel his strength ebbing away and he wondered if Bell could sense it. If he was considering trying to overpower him. It might have been foolish for Noah to come here alone, but this confrontation was profoundly personal to him. He had trusted and respected Bell for too long. The betrayal cut too deep. Noah kept his weapon trained on him.

  “I’m going to keep you here until the uniforms arrive.” With his words, Noah felt bitterness, as well as loss. “I’m not the only one who knows, Cap. Ty knows. I have two friends who also know. Even if you manage to get through me, it’s too late. This can’t be undone.”

  Despite everything, something broke loose inside Noah as Bell dropped his head into his hands, his big shoulders quaking with barely repressed sobs. But a minute later, he seemed to pull himself together. Noah swallowed thickly before moving to a phone console on an end table. Using the speakerphone function, he dialed 911, then trained his gun once again on Bell, who merely sat there with his shoulders slumped. When the dispatcher answered, Noah identified himself with his badge number, gave the house’s street address, and requested that a squad car be sent. Once Noah disconnected, Bell stood to pour another large measure of whiskey into the glass he had used earlier, then gulped the liquor down.

  “Will you let me go into the bedroom and change into civvies, at least? I’m an old man, Noah.” Bell’s eyes watered again as he made the request. “I…don’t want to do the perp walk or go into lockup in uniform. I can’t bear the shame of it.”

  Noah remained silent, trying to make some sense of the man he had thought he knew.

  “Please, Noah,” Bell pleaded, a tremor in his voice. Fatigue had settle into the pockets under his eyes. “I was your CO for over ten years. I was a good leader until I screwed up, wasn’t I? Please? I’m begging you to let me keep some scrap of my dignity.”

  Noah felt the dull beat of his heart as they stared at one another in a charged silence. Then he gave a faint nod. Bell turned and left the room. His slow footsteps echoed down the hall.

  The world seemed to slow down as Noah stood in the deafening silence.

  He closed his eyes as a gunshot rang out in the next room.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The unexpected sight of her nearly took his breath away.

  Noah had answered the knock at his apartment door to find Mercer nervously biting her full bottom lip, her soft-blue eyes wide and her honey-blond hair framing her face.

  “Hi,” she said, although her gaze appeared uncertain. She wore a stylish denim jacket over a blouse and casual wrap skirt.

  “Hi.” Noah took a step back to allow her to enter.

  “You’re not wearing your sling. How’s your arm?”

  The wound was still bandaged underneath his blue dress shirt. As Noah closed the door, guilt flowed through him. Nearly three days had passed and he hadn’t yet contacted her. There had been too many things going on. Things that he was still trying to process.

  “It’s still sore, but I got tired of only having the use of one arm,” he told her. “The doc said it’s okay to ditch the sling as long as I’m careful and I don’t pick up anything over a few pounds. I have a follow-up appointment tomorrow morning.”

  Noah slid his hands into the pockets of his dark suit pants as Mercer took in his small but tidy apartment with its spare furnishings.

  “How’d you find my place?” he asked, knowing that his street address wasn’t public information.

  She fidgeted and scraped a hand through her hair. “I called Remy. He gave me his number and told me to contact him if I ever needed anything. I…needed to get in touch with you. You didn’t return my voice-mail message. Noah, are you all right? Remy told me you were at your captain’s house when he…”

  As her words died away, the knot inside him grew larger. Bell’s suicide had been in the news, as well as the allegations of bribery and collusion. Noah had just returned from the burial. Despite everything, it was something that he felt like he had to do. In light of the charges and the manner of death, the department had denied Bell a traditional police funeral with honors. There had been only a short graveside service with no more than a handful of police in attendance and none in uniform. Bell’s family—his children as well as his ex-wife—had apparently wanted things handled as expediently as possible. The no-frills burial had taken place less than thirty-six hours following the autopsy’s completion.

  “I’m okay.” Noah clasped the back of his neck. “And I’m sorry I didn’t return your call. I mean it. I’ve been planning to.”

  Her eyes held doubt. She glanced to the sofa where his tie and suit coat had been neatly draped over its back. A paper funeral program lay on the coat’s top. Mercer appeared contrite. “You just got back from the funeral. I didn’t know. I’m sorry if I’m intruding—”

  “It’s all right. You’re not.”

  “That must’ve been difficult for you. Attending the funeral, I mean. I imagine you have such mixed feelings.”

  Avoiding the topic, Noah took a step toward the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink? Some water, at least?”

  She shook her head, her hands fiddling restlessly with the clutch purse she held. “I’m not staying. I just wanted to check on you. I’m actually on my way to a meeting at the Charleston Area Convention Center.”

  “How’re you holding up?” he asked. Other than the fading scratch on her cheek and bruise at her collarbone, Mercer appeared physically well. But Noah understood that looks could be deceiving. He also noticed that she wasn’t wearing the chain that held her rings.

  “I’m having a little trouble sleeping, is all.” She played it down with a small shrug. “I’ve been having to keep the bathroom light on at night, but other than that, I’m okay. It seems strange, but everything is getting back to normal. What about you? Are you still working on the investigation?”

  He nodded. “There’re some last aspects of the case that need to be closed down.”

  “Have you learned anything new?”

  “We got confirmation that Orion Scott gave Draper the bribe money,” Noah told her. “After Scott’s death, a family member reported a large amount missing from one of his bank accounts.”

  Mercer appeared anxious. “Do you know anything more about the marshals who were killed?”

  “Both were laid to rest
yesterday. My understanding is that the Marshals Service hasn’t made an arrest yet, but they’re zeroing in on the leak within their organization.”

  “How’s Detective Beaufain?”

  “They think he might be released from the hospital sometime next week. He’ll be on paid leave for a while, and then he’ll be riding a desk at the precinct for a couple of months.”

  They stared at one another in the late afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window, until Mercer broke the silence. She rubbed at her brow.

  “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this.” Her soft mouth was downturned. “That I wouldn’t chase you, yet here I am. Before I throw what’s left of my pride under the bus, I should be going. I just needed to see for myself that you’re all right.”

  “Mercer,” he whispered into the air, but she had already begun walking to the door, her narrow shoulders held rigidly. She hesitated before turning back to him. Her voice sounded frayed.

  “You should know that I’m not pregnant.”

  His heart squeezed as guilt cut through him again. He couldn’t let her go like this. It was wrong of him to shut her out without explanation. Noah fought past the paralyzing self-recrimination that had been gripping him.

  “I…knew that Bell had a gun in the bedroom,” he said roughly.

  At the admission, shock appeared on Mercer’s features. Noah’s throat tightened. “All cops have backups. I let him go back to his bedroom alone. I knew what he was going to do. I gave him an out and I’m not sure I should’ve.”

  Dragging a hand through his hair, he tiredly closed his eyes. Mercer returned to him, her hand tentatively sliding up his arm. Her gaze was liquid with concern.

  “Could you stay for a few minutes?” he asked. When she nodded, he led her to the sofa and they sat together. He released a slow breath.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch,” he repeated in earnest. “Truly. It…hasn’t been about you.”

  He looked at her with a searching gravity. “I know how I feel about you, Mercer. I’ve known it almost from the first moment I met you, although I did my best to fight it. I just need some time to get my head around some things.”

  By things, he meant Bell’s betrayal and his own ethically questionable passivity the night he had gone to confront him. Although Noah hadn’t entered out of respect for the crime scene, he had gone to the bedroom’s doorway, had seen the bright splatter of crimson on the wall and Bell’s sprawled body on the floor. By not stopping him from doing it, Noah felt complicit. He felt as though he had added yet another person to the body count that had begun with Lex Draper entering that art gallery. The gruesome sight of Bell’s corpse joined a long list of the unspeakable things that he had witnessed in his life. As of late, it felt as if Noah was being pulled into an undertow. He had respected Bell, even looked up to him. He felt disillusioned by the career he had given his life to and what the man that he called his captain had done.

  “Noah, you are a good person. Never doubt that.” Mercer’s voice soothed him. “But you have to understand that what your captain did—taking money from Draper in exchange for information—was his decision. He did that, not you. It set off a landslide he couldn’t outrun.”

  Noah pensively ran a hand over his jaw, his voice low. “I should’ve done better. I should’ve forced him to face the consequences of his actions.”

  “If Walter Bell wanted to kill himself, he would’ve eventually. He would’ve found a way. And you couldn’t have been completely certain of what he planned to do. I don’t believe that.” Mercer paused uneasily. “Regardless, pulling that trigger…that was his choice, too. Just like accepting the money in exchange for betraying his own men.”

  Noah swallowed, trying to keep his emotion in check.

  “I’m glad you came by,” he managed finally. “I should’ve been in touch. Don’t think that I haven’t been thinking about you. I just need some time to clear my head.”

  She appeared to understand, although there was pain in her eyes and her brow was creased with worry. “I don’t want to leave you like this—”

  “I’m okay,” he assured her. “You should go to your meeting. I’m not the best company right now, anyway.”

  “I don’t need for you to be good company.” Still, honoring his wishes, she rose from the couch and picked up her purse that she had placed on a side table. “I’m a phone call away if you need me. But you need to talk to someone, Noah. If not me, would you consider seeing a therapist again? Just to talk some of this through? You told me that the one you saw after Afghanistan was helpful.”

  “It’s a good idea. I’ll think about it.” He stood from the sofa, as well.

  “We all go through rough spots.” Mercer’s voice was soft. “Losing Jonathan was my hurricane. But I think maybe the problem is that you’ve been through too many storms—bad ones—all on your own. You deserve to be happy, Noah, whether you believe that or not.” She looked at him for several moments before adding, “If you’re ever ready to talk about us, I’m here.”

  He walked her to the door. Their fingers mingled and then she pulled gently away. Noah felt the loss. As he watched from the breezeway, she went down the stairs. He recognized the black Audi sedan she climbed into as the one that had been parked in front of the bungalow the night they had packed up her things.

  The car pulled onto the street and disappeared.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A coolness had fallen over the beach in time for the oyster roast, which had taken place annually on the St. Clair property for as long as Mercer could recall. The crowd tonight was one of their largest, with hotel guests as well as invited locals enjoying the live music, cold beer, and seafood that ranged from oysters to Lowcountry boil. Paper lanterns were strung on wires between bamboo poles around the event’s perimeter, illuminating the beach with a soft yellow glow. The ocean breeze blew Mercer’s hair, and she shoved it back from her face as embers from the chef-manned trestle swirled upward into the star-filled night.

  “It looks like you were right about pushing this back to fall.” Mark appeared pleased as he came up beside her. Earlier, Mercer had noticed him seated at one of the long, paper-covered tables with Samantha, Emily, and Ethan as they ate. “The hotel’s full, which is saying something for this time of year.”

  “There’s so much competition in late summer. Schools are on fall break right now,” Mercer replied. “People are looking for a getaway and not everyone wants to go to the mountains.”

  “Have you even taken time to eat?” Mark indicated the iPad that she held against her chest. It contained all of her notes that kept an event like this running smoothly. “You know what they say. All work and no play…”

  “Considering who just made that comment—the original workaholic—I’m going to ignore it. And trust me, I’ve eaten. I’ve been picking at things all night. I’m stuffed to the gills.”

  Mark stared off toward a group of older folks. Olivia stood in their midst, holding court as her fingers toyed with the ever-present double strand of pearls at her throat. Anders was nearby along with his daughter, her husband, and their two young sons, the latter of whom were engaged with several other children, Ethan and Emily among them, in a game that required throwing beanbags into a hole at the far end of a slightly raised wood platform.

  “This means a lot to her.” Mark still peered at their mother. “This tradition. Dad started doing these oyster roasts back when he and mom were just newlyweds.”

  Mercer thought of Olivia’s recent hospitalization. That had been over a week ago. “She doesn’t look any worse for wear, does she?”

  “You know Mom—she thrives on this stuff. She’s always been the social butterfly of the family. Well, her and Carter.” Mark grew more serious. “You did a great job bringing all this together, Mercer. Especially considering things.”

  She smiled her appreciation. Except for the food and the bar, which was the hotel’s executive chef’s territory, she had handled every detail o
f the event, from the decorations and planned activities to booking the band and marketing. Pensively, Mercer smoothed her hands over the leggings she wore under a shimmery tunic top, her feet bare in the cool sand. She didn’t mind the work. She had been clinging desperately to it, in fact. Keeping busy meant that she was focused on the now.

  “Look at this, won’t you?” She pointed as Quinn, holding Lily’s hand, came toward them across the sand. Lily wore a grass skirt, although she had on a light sweater over the rest of her hula girl outfit. A lei made of colorful plastic flowers hung around her neck.

  “Lily, you look adorable!” Mercer exclaimed. “Did you get your outfit in Hawaii?”

  Chewing on a small finger, Lily smiled and nodded.

  “She insisted on wearing it.” Quinn playfully rolled her eyes. “Even if this is South Carolina.”

  “I don’t know. I think maybe we could use some pretty hula girls around here.” Mark dropped down in front of his niece. “Want to show me how you dance?” He chuckled as Lily began to shake her hips and wave her arms, emulating the dancers she had seen in Hawaii. Mark bowed his head so that Lily could transfer the lei to his neck.

  “Aloha,” she lisped.

  Mark ruffled her curly, auburn hair and gave the lei back to her before standing again. “Where’s Carter?” he asked Quinn. Carter had wrapped up shooting on the film and returned to Rarity Cove a few days earlier.

  “He’s still back at the house. He said he’ll join us later when the crowd starts to thin.”

  Mercer closed the cover on her iPad. “That’ll disappoint Mom. She’s been waiting for his arrival so she can show him off.”

  “She’ll have to fight me to get to him,” Quinn remarked jokingly. “We’ve gotten so used to being together that this last week without him seemed to go on forever.”