How could I not be the very thing Ashlee said I was?
In the bathroom, I stared at my reflection. Was that what everyone saw when they looked at me?
Tucker didn’t.
“Maybe that’s because Tucker doesn’t know me.”
Returning to my room, I strolled over to where Piggy stared at me through button eyes. “I know. You don’t have to remind me that I just had a temper tantrum worthy of Dove. And now I’m talking to a stuffed rabbit.”
The walls seemed to move inward, and the air became thicker. I grabbed a jacket and rushed from my room, almost colliding with Mother. “Oops. Excuse me.”
“What’s the matter, Piper?” Mother brushed my hair away from my face. “Mildred told me she heard noises coming from your room. I was just coming to check on you.”
I moved out of her reach. “Why would you need to check on me?”
“We’re concerned.” Tern came up behind me. “You were almost killed, then finding BettyJo’s body . . . Well, that’s a lot of shock.” He put his arm around me and gave me a hug.
I untangled Tern’s confining arm from my shoulder. “Thank you, Tern, Mother. I’m fine. Maybe . . . more than fine.” Turning away, I could feel their eyes on me as I walked to Tucker’s room and tapped on the door.
Tucker answered, his gaze going from my face to my family. Without saying a word, he stepped back, allowing me to enter, then firmly shut the door behind me. “What’s going on? Your brother and mother just gave me the strangest looks. Are you okay?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, it’s time.”
“Time for what?”
To grow up? Stop running? “Would you help me find out what happened to my daughter?”
“Don’t you pretty much know all the details?”
“I know she drowned, that her body washed up on Curlew. But what happened before that? What if someone . . . did something to her before throwing her into the ocean? And who did it? Why?”
He studied my face intently. “Do you really want to know all that?”
I closed my eyes. “Yes. I have to. I need to. And I have to make her killer pay for what he did.”
“Revenge is a caustic companion.”
“Then call it justice.”
He stared at me for a long moment. “I hope I can eventually call it forgiveness and redemption. Yes. Of course I’ll help as much as I can.”
I kissed him on the cheek.
He leaned against a chair, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me on the lips.
I was afraid my suddenly wet-noodle legs would give way. The world took a step backward, leaving me in the center of an electrical storm.
When he let go, I almost did fall. We stared at each other for an awkward moment.
“I . . . The time . . . I promised I’d pick up Hannah. She’s probably standing on the dock right now.” I turned and fled.
I didn’t stop running until I arrived at the dock. BettyJo’s body must have been transported to the mainland already, as only one official boat was tied up, presumably Lieutenant Gragg’s.
I opened the door to the boathouse, took out a key to one of the smaller vessels, climbed aboard, and headed for the mainland.
The fresh air cooled my hot face, and the sea was relatively calm. I concentrated on driving the boat, but my thoughts kept bouncing around in my brain. He kissed me. And I liked it. But was I simply reacting to Ashlee’s engagement announcement, or did I really feel something for Tucker?
* * *
Tucker watched Piper race across the foyer and out of sight, mentally kicking himself for his rash kiss. What made him do that? He’d vowed during The Darkness following his wife’s death that he’d never seek another woman. That was his personal penance for losing her and their baby.
Piper had only come to his room to ask for help. He’d probably just made it too awkward for the two of them to work together. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
He returned to his desk and sat. The three stones in his pocket jabbed him. He pulled them out and lined them up on top of his desk. At this point, the best he could do was finish the drawing.
Two hours later he laid down his pencil. A very pretty young version of Piper smiled out at him. She looked so familiar.
He placed a hand over the left side of her face. Now Hannah stared back.
* * *
Hannah was waiting on the dock and raced toward me as soon as I’d tied up. I had to admit she made me smile. She had a way of lifting my spirits.
“I didn’t know what to think!” Hannah said. “I was afraid they’d found Grandma, then afraid they hadn’t found her. I didn’t want to be alone.”
“You’re not alone. I’m here.” I liked the way that sounded. “I didn’t think to check for food at Joyce’s place. Maybe we should visit a grocery store first.”
“Absolutely.”
Watching out for lurking reporters, I drove to the nearest Publix market. As we stepped from the car, a little boy walking by with his mother pointed at Hannah’s face and burst into tears.
Hannah glanced at me, gave a slight shrug, wiggled her fingers at the boy, and moved toward the store entrance.
I slowly followed. Who should be uplifting whom?
* * *
Tucker leaned back in his chair, staring at the drawing. Obviously meeting Hannah had played into his sketch, adding a resemblance he hadn’t intended. He reached for his computer and booted it up. The internet connection needed a password.
Standing, he grabbed his crutches and made his way to the kitchen to find Mildred. He found Tern instead. “Sorry to bother you, but I’d like to get on the internet and need the password.”
“Boone, capital B. Not very creative, but it’s not as if we have a lot of people wanting to use it.” Tern checked his watch, then glanced toward the kitchen.
Tucker took the hint and started to hobble away.
The phone rang.
Tucker moved around the corner and out of sight, then paused to listen. He was probably being rude, but he was curious.
“Yes, this is me. What do you have for me? Really?” Tern was silent for a few minutes. “I agree. I have another name I want you to look into—a BettyJo Wilson. Right. No, look into the family. Hopefully she’ll not have any. It’s important that we keep this out of the news. Have you found out anything about that reporter, Bailey Norton? Okay, then get on it as soon as you can. Right. Get back to me as soon as you have something.”
Swiftly Tucker moved toward his room, not pausing until he’d closed the door. He guessed politicians wouldn’t want news of a dead woman found at their home splashed all over the media, even if it was an accident. More fodder for the island-curse legend.
His computer was still on. He logged on to the internet to learn what he could about Dove. A quick search didn’t add any more to what Piper had already told him. If he were still in law enforcement, he’d have had access to more detailed information than what the police would share with a civilian. His former colleagues wouldn’t help him. They’d made it clear he was on the wrong side of the thin blue line.
He could resurrect his college hacking skills. He’d have all the reports, bank records, travel information, even the link analysis charts from the initial investigation.
But accessing those would mean he’d be breaking the rules of Clan Firinn, which had literally saved his life. He said a quick prayer, then returned to his computer screen.
Television shows and movies often showed detectives, agents, or other officers discussing an investigation while gathered around complex wall displays. Glossy photos of the crime scene, victims, and suspects would remind the viewers of the characters. In reality, detectives usually worked multiple cases at the same time, and wall space for such lovely charts was limited. But Tucker had a link analysis program that would allow him to create a virtual wall, albeit without the yarn, Post-it notes, maps, and photographs.
The police assumed the theft of the boat was the motive behind the attack on Ash
lee. He would interview Silva to find out more. He started a file on the boat in his link analysis program. The value of Dove as a ransom victim was another avenue he could explore; however, there was no ransom note. Maybe someone had killed Dove before the note could be sent. The criminal element was at best unreliable. Under the heading of Suspects, he wrote unknown/stranger, family, staff, neighbor, business associate, friend. That narrowed the suspect pool to everyone.
* * *
We returned to the dock with Hannah’s groceries and loaded the cruiser. Hannah had been silent since the incident at the store. I didn’t know what to say to her. I settled on a bland, “Have you been out on the ocean before?”
“No, although Wisconsin does border both Lake Michigan and Lake Superior, both pretty big.” We pushed off the dock, aimed for the inlet, then turned east toward the island. She sat beside me and raised her voice over the engine. “That bothered you, didn’t it?”
“What?”
“The little boy’s reaction at the store. I could see it in your face.”
“Yes. Very much. You . . . you were so gracious. Didn’t it bother you?”
She turned so I could see both sides of her face—her peaches-and-cream skin paired with the brown, deeply scarred side. “I’ve learned to run with endurance the race set before me.”
“That sounds like a quote.” The island was growing larger in front of us. I turned north.
“It is. From the Bible. Hebrews 12:1. That’s what gives me strength. And hope.”
Something twisted inside me. “You are a most remarkable young woman.”
She gave me a lopsided grin. “And you are everything Grandma said you’d be. Do you really have an entire rescue place for animals? I’d love to go there.”
“Well, technically I just support some of the animals. Make that a lot of the animals. You could say I’m a critter patron.”
“Could we go visit?”
“Sure. There’s a goose that’s honking to meet you.” I nodded ahead. “We’re almost there.”
She shaded her eye to see the island better. “It’s beautiful.”
Joyce’s dock appeared and I slowed the boat to just above idle, stood, and chucked the fenders over the side. I stopped the engine and let the boat drift close. Before I could say anything, Hannah had grabbed the line in the bow and jumped onto the dock. I did the same in the stern. A moment later we were tied up. Hannah picked up her suitcase, and I grabbed the groceries.
A path led upward to the small bluff Joyce’s house was built on. To my right was the spit of rock and sand with Dove’s rock cairn at the natural seawall. I still needed to replace the fallen stones.
“Piper?”
I realized I’d stopped to stare at the cairn.
“Is that where they found your daughter?” Hannah indicated the small monument.
“Yes.”
“Grandma told me a bit about it. Did you want to go over and put the rocks back?”
I shook my head. “We need to get your groceries into the refrigerator. I’ll see to it after that.”
Joyce’s house looked the same, but some of the pages of the open birding journal were starting to curl in the slight humidity. I closed it as I passed, then showed Hannah into the kitchen.
A loud panting came from the other door into the house. Nana, with uncanny insight, waited outside the screen for a cookie.
“Nana!” Hannah opened the door for him. Nana paused long enough to acknowledge the greeting, then charged toward the closet with the cookies.
“You know his name!”
“Sure. Grandma talked about her.” Hannah furrowed her brow. “Shouldn’t Nana be black?”
“This Nana is a male, and yes, most Newfoundlands are black, but they also come in brown and gray. And some are even black and white, which are called Landseers.”
“But I thought Nana was black and a girl dog.”
A slight chill went through me. The last black female Newfie we had was before Dove had passed. That Nana died two years later, replaced by a Landseer, then the brown version we had now. “Joyce must have talked about an earlier dog.”
“I guess.”
Nana had planted himself in front of the hidden closet and was staring at it intently, as if he could will the cookie from the box and into his mouth. A long, ropy strand of drool extended from his jowl to the center of his chest. I snatched a paper towel and captured the slobber before it hit the floor.
“That is so gross.” Hannah moved backward.
“Well, it’s much grosser if Nana shakes his head and launches the drool in all directions.” I opened the closet, pulled out a dog biscuit, and handed it to the canine. “Then again, you haven’t lived until you’ve been hit with a Newfie spit bomb.” He politely took the biscuit and trotted outside.
“You love that dog though, don’t you?”
“I do, but how did you know?”
“Your face. When you see something you like, your eyes grow wider, your mouth opens slightly, and then the corners of your lips tighten into a tiny smile.”
“You are unusually observant.” I looked around the room. “Are you sure you’re going to be comfortable here?”
“Yes. I’m near my grandmother here.”
“Do me a favor? If you think of anything, or even if you get lonely, call me.” I wrote my cell and house numbers on a pad of paper next to the phone.
“Will do.”
I gave her a hug, surprising both of us, then trotted from the house. I couldn’t get Hannah’s comment out of my mind. “But I thought Nana was black and a girl dog.”
Chapter 16
Tucker popped a couple of painkillers, grabbed his crutches, then moved outside, not encountering anyone on his journey. He needed more information about Dove’s disappearance, and a logical starting point would be Silva, the captain of the stolen vessel. Hopefully Silva would be on the island, not the mainland.
He also needed to get that kiss with Piper out of his mind.
Not sure of the protocol on using the family’s carts, he opted to walk down to the beach. Gray clouds had moved in, casting the surroundings in dusty shadows. The briny air smelled of rain while seagulls emphatically cawed overhead. He could easily get used to living here—if only he didn’t have to get here by boat.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted the day cruiser tied up. Silva himself was busy wiping down a spotless bench seat.
Tucker kept his eyes on the man as he negotiated the dock. The slapping of the water under his feet was enough to increase his heart rate.
Silva paused when he spotted Tucker. “Need a lift?”
“Nah. Just out for a walk. I’m curious. Do the family members call you when they need a ride?”
Silva leaned against the seat. “Call or leave me a note. I practically live on this boat, so I’m easy to find.”
Tucker raised his eyebrows. “You live here? How big is this thing?”
“This sweet baby, Taire, is a fifty-four-foot Cantius Cruiser. Three cabins, two heads.” He noted Tucker’s expression. “Two bathrooms. I keep her in running condition, and when the family’s not wanting to go to the island, I go fishing. Just me and the ocean. The way I figure, this is pretty much paradise and I have the perfect job. When the time comes to retire, I plan on getting a boat like this and fishing full-time.” He relaxed and studied the sky. “Storm’s coming.”
“So I see. What about the boat that was stolen? Was it like this one?”
Silva caressed the railing with the cleaning cloth. “The Faire Taire. An eighty-two-foot Hatteras High Spirits.”
“What does the name Faire Taire mean?”
“I was told it meant something like ‘be silent’ or ‘hush.’ I figure it must refer to the engine. She was a beauty. Not so much cruiser as yacht. Had five staterooms. Mr. Boone—Montgomery, Piper’s father—used it to entertain clients. Even had his sculpture on the bow.”
“And you would pilot it?”
“Sometimes. I
suppose technically no one needed to pilot any of the Boone boats. They all have some form of autopilot. Sometimes Mr. Boone took it out. Sorta gave me a break.” Silva looked away and pulled on his ear, then cleared his throat.
Interesting reaction. “Mr. Boone took it out when he had certain clients he wanted to entertain?”
“I didn’t say that.” Silva’s jaw clenched.
Change the subject. “If I could ask, what’s a boat like the Faire Taire sell for?”
“Double this one. Somewhere between four to five million new.”
Tucker gave a soft whistle. A yacht worth that amount would certainly be a target for theft. And a family rich enough for a full-time captain to pilot the multimillion-dollar boat would make a good target for kidnapping. What ransom would that little girl have been worth? “A boat, make that yacht, must be difficult to maneuver. Was it usual for Piper’s husband, Ashlee, to take it out without you piloting it? Especially since it was, after all, your home.”
“Police asked me the same thing. I said it was practically my home. I have a small place on the mainland. Yeah, Ashlee wasn’t much for boating. Oh, he could steer and dock it if he had to—just needed to be careful. Anyway, the only boat at the island that day was the Hatteras.” His voice drifted off as he made a fuss about loading tobacco into a pipe he’d pulled from an inside pocket.
“Piper said everyone was on the island that day for the annual meeting.”
“’S ’at how she remembers it?” Silva didn’t look up. “Not surprising. The whole thing nearly killed her.” He lit the pipe and puffed a few times. “That’s why there weren’t any other boats besides the yacht. Almost everyone in the family had arrived for the meeting but were doing errands on the mainland. As far as I know, only Piper, Joyce—the neighbor lady who lives at the other end of the island—and I were on the island when the Faire Taire was stolen.”
Tucker shifted his weight. “So technically, almost no one had an alibi for when Dove was kidnapped and killed?”
Silva stared at him for a moment. “You sound like a cop.”
“No.” Tucker tried to give him a reassuring smile. “I’m just an artist. Piper told me a bit about what happened to her daughter.”
Relative Silence Page 13
