Night Watch

by Susan Sleeman

  She climbed onto the rail. Issued a silent prayer. And leapt.

  The water enveloped her body. Cold and breath stealing, She clamped her lips closed to resist gasping.

  She got her bearings and swam toward the boat. She slid between the slippery fiberglass and the deck, the water roiling under her.

  The intruder raced out the bedroom onto the upper deck, his solid footsteps sounding in the night. He remained in the shadows, but she knew he was looking for her. She wished she could see his face. How she wished that.

  She tried not to move—not a fraction of an inch—but her body shivered.

  Please go away. Please.

  His feet pounded over the deck, heading back to the house.

  Now! She had to move now before he got down the stairs and out to her location.

  She tried to scoot free but couldn’t move. The boat had shifted in the current and wind, pinning her against the dock.

  She shoved against it, the fiberglass cold under her already chilly hands. The boat bounced up and down, splashing water, but didn’t move away from the dock.

  No. No. This couldn’t be happening.

  Footsteps sounded nearby. Feet came into view. Big feet wearing military style boots. She caught a glimpse of a crooked nose through the mask and a narrow face.

  He gripped his gun with confidence as if trained to use it. No. Not just trained. Experienced.

  His boots came closer, looking elephant-sized in her eyes.

  She slid further under the boat.

  Water lapped at her mouth. Her nose.

  Please, don’t let him find me. Please. Please. Please.

  2

  Erik was a glutton for punishment. Otherwise why would he be in his truck headed to Kennedy’s floating home? So she could rip his heart out again? Probably, and unless he liked pain, which he didn’t think he did, this was a stupid move.

  And yet…

  He lifted his foot from the gas pedal and whipped into the marina parking lot, holding tight to the wheel in the strong wind. Maybe he should turn around. Ignore Finley’s phone call. Sure, Kennedy was struggling—burning out as she tried to prove her mother’s death was foul play, but that wasn’t life threatening. It wasn’t as if Kennedy had any proof that her mother had been murdered and the killer had Kennedy in his sights. She didn’t need his protection.

  He let out a long breath and took another as he ignored his good sense and pulled into a parking spot near a footbridge leading down to a long line of floating homes. He got out and clasped the steel railings on the bridge that were warm in the night, and the moon above had broken through heavy clouds. Stars sparkled in another nearby clearing. A magnificent August night.

  The vibrant blue, white, and orange homes shone brightly, the river below angry from the approaching storm. Floating homes. He’d always called them houseboats, but he’d since learned that these homes didn’t fit the term. A houseboat was a live-aboard boat with a motor and could navigate bodies of water. Floating homes were homes built on floats, moored to a semi-permanent location, and had to be moved with another vessel.

  A man dressed in an army green T-shirt, camouflage pants, and boots darted onto the walking bridge. Head down, he slammed into Erik, glanced up, and kept going.

  “Watch it!” Erik snapped and turned to follow the guy’s progress as he raced across the parking lot and disappeared in the line of trees abutting the highway.

  People jogged at all times of the day, but this guy wasn’t dressed for jogging, and with a storm approaching, running was foolishness. If he were a resident of the community, he would get into a car and drive off, not bolt into the scrub.

  Kennedy! Was she okay?

  Erik charged toward her floating home, his heart pounding.

  The lights were all out, the home illuminated only by the moon. Maybe she was asleep. Or maybe something had happened. He crossed the short gangway to the house, quickly adjusting to the subtle movements below his feet.

  The front door stood open, heavy pry marks on the jamb.

  A break-in. Someone broke in. Was it the guy he’d rammed into in the parking lot?

  Erik’s gut cramped hard.

  He drew his gun. He wanted to call out Kennedy’s name, but he couldn’t signal his approach to any intruder. He slipped past the small kitchen immediately inside the door and entered the attached living area. Her purse and phone sat on a table. So she was here.

  He noted a spiral staircase to an upper level but moved past it to the back wall with a sliding door. The latch was closed and locked.

  All clear. No one on the back deck.

  He turned to the twisty metal staircase. He’d be an easy target on those stairs.

  So what?

  If Kennedy was in danger upstairs, he would move heaven and earth to get to her. Even after she hurt him more deeply than any person had ever done.

  He cocked his head, listening. Only heard the river lapping against the deck and the wind howling outside. He started up the steps. The first one creaked.

  Father, please protect me. Protect Kennedy too.

  Gun raised, he wound slowly up, his breath shallow, his heart thudding. Step by step. Up higher. One by one. He popped his head above the landing and peered down a hallway. No movement. He quickly took the last few steps.

  Slow down. Be careful. You can’t help her if you’re dead.

  He emerged onto the second floor. The first bedroom door stood partially open. He pressed on it. The wood slammed into a dresser someone had shoved almost all the way in front of it. Almost, but not enough.

  Had Kennedy been trying to keep an intruder out? Had he gotten in and killed her?

  No. Oh no. Please.

  Heart in his throat, he entered. His breath left him at what he might find on the other side of the bed.

  Fighting for air now, he eased forward. Glanced around the bed. No one. But the patio door was wide open.

  He stepped onto the small deck. No sign of Kennedy.

  He started to return to the bedroom but heard whimpering.

  “Kennedy?” he called out. “It’s Erik.”

  He stepped closer to where the sound had originated.

  “Erik Byrd,” he added in case she’d forgotten all about him.

  “Erik. Oh, thank God. Is he gone?” Her words came out between chattering teeth. “The intruder?”

  His heart swelled at hearing her voice. “There’s no one here. I’m coming.”

  “I jumped,” she said, her unsteady voice setting a blazing fire of anger in Erik’s gut. “Hid. Got stuck and can’t move. Too much pain. Oh, please hurry. Down here. So cold.”

  He bolted for the stairs, swallowing choice words as he tried to maneuver the confounded circular thing in a hurry. River temps at this time of year would be in the sixties, too cold for a swimmer not wearing a wetsuit. He had to move.

  At the bottom, he flew across the room but paused at the door. He was ready to leap into the water but took a moment to shed his boots and some clothing. Especially his overshirt, which he wore to conceal his gun. The suspect bumping into him could’ve left touch DNA on the fabric that they could use to identify this creep.

  Erik charged across the deck in his bare feet, anger burning like a hot coal in his gut. No, Kennedy didn’t need to see that. She was already frightened enough. He dug up the professional protector mode that he used on the job to keep his cool.

  “Where are you, honey?” He shone his phone’s flashlight ahead at the side of the deck where he’d thought her voice had sounded.

  “Here. I’m here.”

  He fought the wind to swing right and kneel, searching with the flashlight beam between the deck and a small ski boat, where the water beat against the deck. Near the bow, Kennedy’s large brown eyes locked on his. Her disheveled and shivering state, from cold or maybe fear, hit him like a fist grabbing his heart and squeezing.

  “I’m here,” he said, doing his very best to keep anger and pain from his.

  He
ran the light over the area, looking for the best way to free her quickly. “I’ll untie the boat and then hoist you up. If I can’t do it from the deck, I’ll get in the water and hold onto you so you can pull up on the deck.”

  “Thank you.” She sounded so forlorn it deepened the ache in his chest.

  He pocketed his phone and released the closest mooring line, then gave the boat a shove with his foot and held it out against the choppy river waves.

  Kennedy scooted out of the way. “I’m free. Oh, thank you.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how I got stuck, but I wasn’t thinking clearly after the guy pulled a gun and came after me.”

  “He was carrying?” Erik heard his high-pitched words echo down the river. “That changes everything.”

  “We should call the police,” she said.

  “Getting you out of the cold water’s top priority.” He leaned over the edge, the wind beating against him. “Grab onto me, and I’ll pull you up.”

  She raised her arms, and icy fingers clamped onto his shoulders. His anger over her suffering doubled. “Ready?”

  “Yeah.” The word carried a heaviness that reminded him of his heart the day of their senior year of college when, after two years of what he thought was blissful togetherness, she told him she didn’t want to be with him anymore.

  He raised her up until their bodies connected. He held her longer than was necessary, taking in a long draw of her coconut scent that hadn’t changed over the years. She didn’t try to break free.

  Oh, man. To have her in his arms again. Pure joy. And heartache. She wasn’t his anymore.

  Would never be.

  Face facts, man. Years had passed. Six years. And his reaction said he wasn’t over her. He could resume their relationship right now. If…if she hadn’t left him with no explanation. No reason. Just good-bye and a backward glance that left him wondering all those years. But that wasn’t all. His latest girlfriend had cheated on him. Two strikes and he wasn’t going for the third one. He couldn’t trust a woman again. Never again.

  He eased away from Kennedy before he did or said something he regretted. “We need to get you inside and into a hot shower and dry clothes.”

  She gave a sharp nod, but behind her eyes he saw turmoil. From the hug? From the attack? Likely the attack, as she was the one who broke things off in the past. She was the one who didn’t want him. Pure and simple. He had to remember that.

  “Thank you for coming.” A tentative smile crossed her lips, and she gently touched his cheek. “For the rescue. I don’t know why you’re here, but thank you.”

  Her soft touch set a fire burning inside of him. He backed away and secured the boat. “Finley called me.”

  Kennedy frowned. “She shouldn’t have.”

  Right. Kennedy doesn’t want me here. “Let’s go in and talk about it once you’re warm.”

  She went in through the patio door and straight to the stairway. He followed but stopped in the family room.

  “While you change, I’ll get the police looking for the intruder.” He held up his phone. “Did you get a good look at him?”

  She shook her head. “I can give you a few things though. Big guy. Six feet plus. Maybe two-twenty. Big army boots and camo pants. His face was in the shadows, but I did see a crooked nose and a long face.”

  Like the guy he ran into in the lot. “I’ll call it in and stay until an officer arrives.”

  She looked over her shoulder. “You don’t have to stay. I’m—”

  “I know you don’t want to have anything to do with me, but the guy was carrying, and I’m not leaving you alone in case he comes back. So you’ll just have to deal with me being here.” His words came across as harsh, but come on. She was hurting him all over again.

  “I didn’t mean it that way.” She grabbed a thick strand of wet hair and twisted it around her finger, something stress always had her doing. “Not at all. I just didn’t want to waste your time.”

  Could he believe that? She seemed earnest enough. “Guess I’m a little amped up on adrenaline.” Add some heart-wrenching memories of rejection to his wild emotions, and he was cranky.

  “I’ll be right back.” She climbed the stairs and, though he should look away, he watched the fluidity in her body evident under the soggy pale blue knit pants and top clinging to her curves. She’d always worked out to stay in shape for underwater diving, and her sleek form attested to her keeping up the work in the years since he’d seen her.

  She disappeared up the stairs.

  He quickly dialed the Portland Police Bureau dispatch. Most people would call 911, but as a former PPB officer, he knew to reserve the 911 board for real emergencies. He’d cleared the house, and Kennedy was unharmed. There was no emergency here. Other than his need to put his feelings for her back into the folder where he’d stowed them years before—and do it before she came back down those stairs. He wasn’t going to go crazy over her again. No way.

  Erik resisted firing off a smart comment at Sarge with the Portland Police Bureau and ended the call. It wasn’t sarge’s fault that they didn’t have the necessary resources to investigate every break-in that occurred in the city. So Erik would be on his own, and he phoned his sister, the forensic expert at the Veritas Center, a highly rated and respected local lab.

  “Hey, baby brother,” she answered cheerfully.

  Erik nearly groaned at her use of the word baby, but she was a new mom and had babies on the brain, so he would cut her some slack. He described the situation.

  “Kennedy?” Sierra’s voice rose, and Erik could imagine his sister lurching to her feet at the news. “Seriously? And how are you doing with seeing her again?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Uh-huh. Sure. Then why do you sound like a strangled cat?”

  “What?” He laughed at the vision.

  “There’s a tightness in your voice. Maybe others wouldn’t hear it, but then I’m not others. I’m your only sister and changed your diapers. Fed and burped you. So I know you, little brother. Know you well.”

  “Okay, then. Moving on. Can you send someone out here to process the place?”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “You’re on maternity leave.”

  “Reed can handle Asher for the couple of hours it’ll take to process a floating home.”

  “You don’t have to do it.”

  “Are you kidding?” Sierra’s voice rose. “Miss out on seeing Kennedy again? No way. Give me the address, and I’ll be right over.”

  Erik knew better than to argue with his sister. Once her mind was made up, disagreeing with her was like fighting with a bull, and he couldn’t think of a time when he’d come out on top.

  He shared the address and ended the call when footsteps above caught his attention, and he turned toward the stairway. Kennedy’s feet, covered in thick slipper socks, appeared, and she descended slowly. She’d put on black sweatpants and an oversized hoodie with the FBI emblem on the chest. The sweet smell of her coconut shampoo drifted across the room.

  “What?” she asked. “No police yet?”

  “They don’t have the resources to send someone out for a break-in. But Sarge will assign a detective if we can provide physical evidence.” He met her gaze. “I should’ve asked before. Are you thinking the break-in is related to your mom’s death?”

  She nodded. “And I thought it might make them rethink their findings on her death. But then I shouldn’t be surprised by the lack of response. Not after my years in law enforcement.” She moved to the entryway table and grabbed her keys from her purse.

  “Going somewhere?” he asked.

  “I want to get going on finding that evidence, and my forensic supplies are in the trunk of my car.”

  “I called Sierra. She’ll handle it.”

  Kennedy lifted her chin and locked eyes with him. “I’d rather do it myself.”

  He hadn’t forgotten her stubborn streak, and he’d often found it cute. Not tonight. Not when the intruder could stil
l be around. And he couldn’t let her put her life in danger. “I get that you’re like this super FBI forensic tech, but you’re too close to this case. If this guy is arrested, we don’t want the defense attorney to claim you tainted the evidence.”

  Her shoulders dropped. “You’re right. But you need my help. He tossed something into the water. I think it was the crowbar he used to break in. Diving isn’t Sierra’s forte, and I plan to go in after it.”

  “I don’t know.”

  That cute chin rose even higher, and she crossed her arms. “You have any other underwater crime scene investigators in the area?”

  “We could get someone from Clackamas County Sheriff’s Dive/Rescue Team.”

  “Sure, they have divers, but none with the kind of experience I have. They can’t afford anyone full-time. None of the agencies around here can. It would be auxiliary duty at best, so how qualified are they? I dive on a regular basis and have had years of experience doing the job.”

  She had a point. One Erik couldn’t argue with, but he didn’t know all the facts of criminal law either. If she collected this evidence, would that jeopardize the case? “We can’t risk you blowing up this investigation because of your connection. We need to get some legal advice before you go hopping into that water.”

  “You must know some criminal lawyers we could call, right?”

  “Malone Rice is our best bet. She’s the sister of Sierra’s husband, Reed. Malone specializes in helping teens and battered women, but she’ll still know if this is a good move.”

  “Okay, give her a call then.”

  “Not until you tell me more about what’s going on.”

  “No time to waste.” She fisted hands on her hips. “The river’s current could carry the tool downstream. I need to dive tonight so that doesn’t happen.”

  “First you can bring me up to speed.” He gestured at the couch.

  Kennedy narrowed her eyes, drawing his attention to her many freckles. He’d once spent hours tracing the invisible lines between them with his finger.