by Connie Mann
Chapter 8
Nick pulled up in front of Wally’s Gas-n-Go, climbed out of his SUV, and scanned the area from behind his shades. Varga and his cronies lounged in their usual spot around the picnic table. Nobody showed any reaction to his presence, but he could feel the change in the air. He had to play this just right. Part of him wanted to lock Varga’s sorry butt up for the bruises around Cat’s neck, but since she wouldn’t press charges, he couldn’t really force the issue. Besides, he wanted to get Varga on more than that. All his cop instincts screamed that he’d been involved with Demetri and Roy and their drug business in Safe Harbor. He just hadn’t been able to make the connection yet. At least, he had no hard evidence and certainly nothing that would stand up in court.
He walked over, hands resting on the front of his utility belt within easy reach of his weapon. “How’re things, Eddie? Guys?” He nodded to the other men.
Varga blew out a stream of cigarette smoke, shrugged, and winced. “Can’t complain. What brings you out here?”
Nick hitched his chin toward the gauze on Eddie’s upper arm. “Officer Dempsey says you accused Cat Johnson of stabbing you in the shoulder this morning.” He used the name the locals knew her by and watched for a reaction, waiting to see if Varga repeated his earlier accusation. Nick itched to put a few bruises on Eddie’s scrawny neck to match those on Cat’s, but that wouldn’t get him what he needed.
“I think Dempsey misunderstood. Cat and I had a friendly conversation. When she almost fell, I tried to help and scraped my shoulder against the picnic table.” He met Nick’s eyes, challenge in them. “I’m a klutz. What can I say?”
Nick glanced at the other men, who eyed Nick with distain. “From what I hear, you spent some time hanging out with Teddy Winston before he died.”
Varga shook his head. “Such a shame what happened to the kid. Do you know what killed him yet? Very sad. I feel for his parents.”
“Was he buying drugs from you, Eddie?”
“Now you’re insulting me, Officer. You know I don’t do drugs, or sell them. Especially not to kids.” He paused, leaned a fraction closer. “That’s just speculation. If you had one shred of proof, you’d have arrested me a long time ago.” His expression had turned smug, daring Nick to disagree. Knowing he couldn’t chafed Nick like too-tight jeans. “But I did spend a bit of time with Teddy. He was a good kid. Wanted to learn to fish, so I took him out a time or two. You can ask around at the marina.”
“Your uncle still doing fishing charters?” Nick asked, and Varga nodded. “You go out with him?”
“When he needs help. Tourists book everything through the Internet these days. Hard for my uncle to compete with the big flashy outfits in Tampa.” Varga pierced him with a look. “If you’re worried Teddy was involved in drugs, you should ask Joey Bard what he keeps in his storage room at the Blue Dolphin. Now you didn’t hear it from me, but there are rumors that certain items pass from there on out the back door at the Dolphin.”
Nick kept his tone casual. “What kind of items?”
Eddie shrugged. “I dunno. Just what I heard, is all.” He stood. “Don’t let us keep you, Officer.”
At the arrogant, dismissive tone, Nick grabbed him by the front of his tank top and yanked him close. “You ever lay another hand on Cat Johnson—or any other woman—and I’ll come down on you like the wrath of God. We clear?”
Varga sneered. “Careful, Officer. This feels a lot like police brutality. I think Chief Monroe—or the mayor—wouldn’t be too happy about that.”
“Don’t push me, Eddie.” Nick released him and stepped back.
“Hope you figure out what killed that kid.”
Nick climbed into his SUV and pulled out of the parking lot. He glanced in his rearview mirror and saw Varga salute him with his cigarette. He couldn’t blame Cat for stabbing him. He was tempted to shoot him just on general principle. He sighed, rubbed the back of his neck.
He’d bet every last dollar Varga was involved in Safe Harbor’s drug trade, and he wouldn’t stop until he proved it. In the meantime, nobody manhandled women. Not on his watch. He’d be keeping an eye on Varga.
Cat went out onto the porch after Nick left. Mama looked up from her knitting. “He is a good man.”
“If you say so,” Cat said, then smiled to take the sting out of her words.
Mama eyed her shrewdly. “There are good policemen and bad ones. Nick is a good one.”
Which was part of what she was afraid of. If he was as good a cop as everyone seemed to think, there was no way he wouldn’t dig around in her background, try to figure her out. Especially since she was driving someone else’s car and had shown up about the same time a local teen turned up dead. She was sure he’d already run her license and talked to Walt by now. She only hoped Safe Harbor hadn’t suddenly gone high tech. Billy’s forgery was good, but she wasn’t sure how good.
A chill passed over her. That wasn’t her biggest concern, of course. She couldn’t still be here when someone in town said something to someone else, or posted something online or . . . the Gazette.
“Mama, where is the paper?” She tried to keep her voice calm as anxiety churned in her gut.
Mama nodded to a basket in the living room, and Cat grabbed the paper, flipping pages. Several minutes later, she let out a small sigh of relief when she found no mention of her name or, worse, any pictures of her.
Blaze walked into the room wearing a black T-shirt and jeans and saw Cat sitting on the couch. “The online version is better. There are always more pictures.”
Cat’s relief vanished. “Do you have a computer?”
Blaze nodded. “Laptop, why?”
“I need to borrow it for a few minutes.”
To keep from wringing her hands while she waited, Cat went into the kitchen and rooted around in a lower cabinet until she found three vases. She put the flowers for Mama on the kitchen table, then put the other two bunches into separate vases. She was carrying the second one out to the living room when she heard Blaze clump down the hall.
She set them down on the coffee table in front of the teen. Blaze looked up. “Nice.”
“They’re for you.”
Her head snapped up. “What? Why?”
Cat shrugged. “I have no idea what kind of flowers most of them are, but the gerbera daisies at least looked bright and cheery. Thought they might make you smile.”
Blaze buried her head in the blooms, and when she looked up, her eyes were wet. She swiped the tears away. “Thanks.” She shrugged indifferently. “Nobody ever bought me flowers before.”
Something clenched in Cat’s heart. She understood. Truly. But she’d also learned Blaze wasn’t outwardly emotional. She smiled. “They’re frivolous and beautiful just by being there. Enjoy.”
Blaze turned the laptop her way. “You want me to do a search for something?”
“I just wanted to see the latest issue of the Gazette.”
Blaze’s fingers flew over the keys. “Since Avery Ames took over, they have a Facebook page, and they’re on Twitter, too.”
The knot in Cat’s stomach grew. Blaze set the laptop on the coffee table, and the two of them scanned the paper, along with the Gazette’s social media sites. It figured that this little town would move into the next century now.
Cat looked up when she felt Blaze staring at her. “You have bruises on your neck.”
She reached for the scarf, then dropped her hand. “No big deal.”
Blaze looked horrified. “Did Eddie do that? What did he say?”
“He said he was sorry Teddy was dead but he didn’t have anything to do with it.”
Blaze narrowed her eyes. “Why do you have bruises, then?”
Cat made a mental note never to underestimate this girl’s smarts. She was quick, too. “Let’s just say I told him I doubted his story.”
“I hope you gave as good as you got.”
Cat’s grin was quick, then she sobered. “He probably won’t be pitching toda
y, that’s for sure.”
Blaze’s cell phone signaled an incoming text. While her thumbs flew, Cat scanned the rest of the sites, relieved that, at least for the moment, there was no mention of her anywhere. But she had to be long gone before that changed. The idea that someone would hurt any of her family on her account was enough to make her want to throw up. Or leave town right this second.
She stood, ready to run upstairs and grab her stuff. Let Nick dig around in her past. He wouldn’t find anything. She had to disappear again.
“We need to go talk to Bryan,” Blaze said.
Cat saw the fear in her face. “Who’s Bryan?”
“He was Teddy’s best friend since, like, kindergarten. He just texted that he needs to see me. It’s important, he said. He sounded scared.”
Cat glanced at the stairs, then at Blaze, torn. The worry that disaster would strike her family if she didn’t leave right now rumbled like an impending storm.
Blaze must have seen something in her eyes, because an air of resignation slumped her shoulders. “Never mind. I’ll go myself.”
Cat squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t just leave. But if she stayed too long?
She swallowed her unease. “Let me grab my keys.”
Just a couple more hours. Then she’d be gone.
Chapter 9
Nick returned to the station, surprised to find Chief Monroe in residence. Lately, the man spent more time out of the station than in. He’d been making more and more noise about retiring and dropping hints that he wanted Nick to take over, which was fine by Nick. He wanted to be the next chief of police. He just had to be sure he didn’t tell his boss off before he got the job. He didn’t like Monroe’s politicking and good-old-boy police work, but he figured there were still things to learn about the people who lived here from a guy who’d held the job for so many years.
Monroe and JD had their heads together when Nick came in the door.
“Hey, Nick,” Wanda said as she handed him a stack of little pink slips. “Messages.”
He’d been trying to get Wanda to send him texts instead, but she said she wasn’t comfortable with all that high-tech stuff. He hid his sigh behind a smile. “Thanks, Wanda.”
“Nick, I was just checking in with JD on where we are with Teddy Winston’s sad death,” Monroe said. “Teddy’s father just called me again, asking for news. Do we know how the poor boy died yet?”
“Still waiting on the coroner, Chief,” Nick replied as he approached.
“What’s this I hear about you roughing up Eddie Varga?” Monroe asked.
Nick shook his head, amazed—and a little jealous—of how far and fast Monroe’s network reached. “I didn’t rough him up. I simply got close enough to be sure he got my point. Who is saying different?”
Monroe brushed it aside. “Don’t get riled, just wondered on your take is all.”
“Who told you?”
Before Monroe said anything, Nick’s cell phone rang. “Stanton.”
“This is Eloise from Blue Sky Cellular in Tampa. I just wanted to let you know I emailed you Theodore Winston’s call log.”
Nick’s phone chirped with an incoming email as he was thanking her. He pulled the phone away and checked. “Yes, I just got it. Thank you for responding so quickly.”
Nick hung up, then opened the email and scrolled down to the bottom of the list first, checking to see who Teddy had called right before he died.
“Who was that?” Monroe asked.
“I asked for Teddy’s cell phone log. I want to know who he called the other night.”
“And?”
“Two names. Blaze Martinelli and Bryan Hendricks. Both within minutes of each other.”
Bryan Hendricks’s family didn’t have a lot of money, judging by the age of the single-wide mobile home set back in the trees. But where Eddie Varga’s home showed both age and neglect, the Hendricks obviously took care of what was theirs. The yard was neatly mowed, there was a vegetable garden planted in neat rows behind a sturdy fence, and clothes flapped in the breeze from a line that hung between the house and an equally aging carport.
As soon as Cat parked, Bryan hurried out of the house toward them, grief and worry etched in every line of his thin face. He was tall and lanky, very similar to Teddy in build, from what she remembered, but his hair was dark while Teddy’s had been blond.
He pulled Blaze into a bear hug, his eyes red-rimmed and haunted. Interesting that Blaze didn’t pull away from him, like she did everyone else.
Blaze finally stepped back, eyed him carefully. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“I don’t know what to do.” He looked from Cat to Blaze and back again.
Blaze nodded at her. “She’s cool. You can talk in front of her.”
“So the other night, Teddy was really freaked out, you know?”
“Which night? Saturday?” Cat asked.
“No, Friday night. He brought his PlayStation over, and we were playing video games, but he was really jumpy, and scared and, like, he couldn’t sit still. He kept jumping up and looking out the window, like he was looking for someone. When I asked him what was going on, he wouldn’t say. We kept playing, but after a while, he said he was tired and was going to go.” He took a deep breath before he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, held it out to Blaze. “He gave me this note and said if anything ever happened to him, I should give it to you.”
Blaze’s hand shook as she took the envelope and read the short note. Her eyes filled, and she handed the note to Cat, who read it aloud.
“Blaze, I’m so sorry. You deserved better. I never meant for any of this to happen, but it’s too late. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I hope you’ll think good thoughts when you remember me. Be happy. I love you. Teddy.”
Blaze leaned against the car, hands over her face, crying silent tears. Her shoulders shook, but she didn’t make a sound.
When she looked up at Cat, her eyes were filled with anguish. “Does that mean he killed himself? Is that what it means?”
Cat shook her head, her heart aching. “I don’t know, Blaze. It sounds like it. Or it could mean he was in some kind of trouble he didn’t know how to get out of.”
“But then that means somebody killed him!” Blaze shouted.
“We still don’t know that,” Cat said. “But I think you need to show the note to Nick.” She turned to Bryan. “And he should know about Friday night.” She didn’t understand why she kept pushing them toward the police, when normally she ran as far and as fast as she could away from the cops, but there was something intrinsically honest and decent about Nick that made her trust him. Which also scared her enough to cause heart palpitations, since she knew that also meant he’d never stop until he got answers. About Teddy. Or about her, if he started digging.
Bryan was clearly still agonizing over something. “What else, Bryan?” Cat asked.
His head snapped toward her, and indecision warred inside him, Cat could tell. “He, uh, he left something else.” He picked up a worn black backpack from where he’d set it beside the car, and Cat was surprised she hadn’t noticed it before.
He slid the zipper open and showed them a gallon-size zippered freezer bag that had dozens of small bags inside it, all filled with marijuana. Blaze cursed. Cat sucked in a breath.
“I-I don’t know what to do.”
“You have to give it to Nick,” Blaze said immediately.
“But what if he thinks it’s mine?”
“He won’t. Nick will believe you,” Blaze insisted.
Cat wished she could be as certain. Alarm bells clanged in her head. As much as she felt she could trust Nick, when drugs were involved, things could get dicey. But before she could figure out what to do, the man himself pulled in next to her car.
As he climbed out of his SUV, Cat had to remind herself not to stare. Despite the scary uniform, he had the kind of male magnetism that made some primitive part of her want to reach u
p and wrap her arms around his neck, pull him close, and never let go. Since she hadn’t had a reaction like that to a man in, well, forever, the thought brought her up short and yanked up all her defensive shields, quick. He was a cop. He was the very last man on the planet she should want to get close to, in any sense of the word.
She backed up several steps, and her chin rose as he glanced her way, a question in his eyes.
Nick was surprised to see Blaze and Cat already there. Blaze looked completely devastated. Cat looked wary. And worried.
He approached the skinny teenage boy. Dark hair. Red-rimmed eyes. “Are you Bryan? I’m Officer Stanton, with the Safe Harbor police. I’d like to ask you a few questions about your friend Teddy.” When Bryan’s chin quivered, he added, “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. He was my best friend, since kindergarten.”
The boy spoke well, looked Nick in the eye, lived in a well-kept house with a tidy yard. Good family, financially strapped as many were, but hardworking, from what Monroe had said. “Are your folks home, Bryan?”
“No, sir. They’re both at work.”
“You talked to Teddy on Saturday night?”
Bryan stiffened in surprise. “How did you know that?”
“We pulled Teddy’s phone records.” He watched the boy’s face. “What did you two talk about?”
“Not a lot,” Bryan said, frustration evident. “When he called, he was upset, scared. He wouldn’t tell me what it was about, just said, ‘Loose lips sink ships.’”
Nick stilled inside. “Do you know why he said that? Was he keeping a secret of some kind?”
Bryan looked from Blaze to Cat and back to Nick, pleading. “He’s never been in any trouble. He never did any drugs, nothing, you’ve got to believe that, but . . .”
Nick waited while Bryan tried to get the words out, to say whatever so obviously troubled him. Finally the boy took the backpack and handed it to Nick. “He left this here Friday night, along with a note for Blaze. Said if anything happened to him, I should give her the note.”
“Did you tell anyone about it? Let anyone know you were worried?”
