The Dangerous Protector

by Janet Chapman

  “How long will it take? Can I get ya back out tonight?”

  Willow thought about that, and also considered the option Duncan was offering. If she let them arrest her, she could be in jail twenty-four to forty-eight hours, unless they had decided to bring her in for questioning—which wasn’t unheard of if they wanted more time to build their case. But would John do that to her? And could she afford to let that happen right now?

  “I could be tied up for days. So, Your Grace, which window opens onto the fire escape?” she asked, ignoring Rachel’s gasp and shooting Duncan a wide grin. “This appears to be one of those rules I might like to break.” She shrugged. “Although I’m not really doing anything wrong. I haven’t seen any state detectives.”

  Duncan turned to the woman who had run upstairs with the news. “Tell them Willow Foster already left about half an hour ago, would ya, Colleen? Say ya think she mentioned she was heading back to her apartment in Augusta.”

  Colleen, whom Willow used to babysit for at least ten years ago, nodded at Duncan and then looked over at Willow. “You always made me go to bed by nine,” she said, smiling crookedly. “So I’m only doing this because I’ve bet all of last week’s tips on Duncan. And I really want a new MP3 player.”

  “I put you to bed but you never stayed there,” Willow said, getting up and walking to one of the back windows. “Thanks, Colleen. If you lose your tips, I’ll buy you that MP3 player.”

  “Careful, counselor,” Duncan said as he joined her at the window and opened it. “That’s coming close to actually obstructing justice.”

  “I’m not buying you an MP3 player,” Willow quickly told Colleen. “Just stay up here a few minutes. You can have my supper. I haven’t touched it,” she offered, waving at her plate beside Rachel.

  “Luke, go out and see if they’re watching the back of the pub,” Duncan said, waving him over to the window. He looked at Kee. “We’ll meet in two hours.”

  “Willy,” Rachel interjected. “You can’t do this.”

  “Sure I can, sis. I haven’t been handed a warrant for my arrest by anyone.” She ran back, hugged Rachel, and kissed her cheek. “I’ll turn myself in once I figure everything out. Please don’t worry about me. You know I’m in good hands.”

  “Why are you going out the window, Aunty?” Mikaela asked. “Because you don’t want to get caught driving drunk again? You only had soda.”

  Willow sighed and hung her head.

  “I’ll explain to her what’s happening,” Rachel promised, giving Willow a push. “Just get out of here.”

  “All’s clear,” Luke told Duncan, sticking his head back in the window. “I’ll let the air out of their tires just as soon as you get out of here. Take my truck.” Luke handed Duncan his keys, then waited while Duncan dug in his pocket for his keys and gave them to Luke.

  Duncan put one leg over the sill, but stopped and looked back at the room. “Kee, could ya take Ben to a hotel for tonight? And, Mother, I expect ya to stay right here in Puffin Harbor until I get this settled.”

  Margaret sniffed. “You are not my guardian, Duncan Ross.”

  “Nay, but I am in possession of yar passport,” he said with a pirate’s grin. “Jane, ya’re not to get more than ten feet from Jason, understand? We don’t need to be hunting for you, too.”

  “Yessir!” Jane said with a snappy salute. She turned and smiled at Jason. “I’ll be all over him like hot butter.”

  Willow watched Duncan look around the room, as if checking to see if he’d missed giving orders to anyone. “They’ll survive without you, Dunky,” she said, shoving him out the window. But then she stopped and turned to smile at their gaping audience. “Sorry to break up this exciting party. But please, continue without—”

  Duncan reached in, grabbed Willow by the shoulders, and pulled her out the window.

  They made their escape to Luke’s house in Luke’s truck, and Willow couldn’t remember ever being on such a surreal adventure—not even in high school. She was running on nothing but adrenaline and riddled with guilt at the realization that this was really serious business. Gramps and the crates were still missing, she was hiding from both sides of the law, and Duncan was sticking his neck out to aid and abet a now wanted criminal. And they still weren’t any closer to understanding what was going on.

  “Is there a reason you and Kee live in beautiful homes and Luke lives in a shack?” Willow asked, flopping down on the tattered couch in the living room of the gently collapsing old farmhouse.

  Duncan walked through the darkness to the window, and peered outside. “Because Luke thinks this is a mansion,” he said, turning to face her. She could just make out the slash of Duncan’s grin. “And he doesn’t know how to go about setting down roots. He grew up on the streets of New York, and is content if the roof doesn’t leak and the toilets flush.”

  “He’s not that uncivilized,” Willow said with a laugh. “He acts more sophisticated than you do most of the time.”

  “Because he attended the school of hard knocks. That, and he sat through four years of classes at Columbia University.” Duncan shrugged. “Though ya don’t get a diploma unless ya pay tuition.”

  “He stole his education?”

  “More than that—he made his living doing term papers for the real students.”

  Willow just stared in awe at Duncan, until she realized something was poking her thigh. She reached under herself and pulled out a sneaker. “It appears he doesn’t entertain much, either,” she said with another laugh, only to finally sober and get back to their serious business. “Why do you suppose they stored those crates in the quarry? That pesticide was banned four years ago.”

  “Banned in this country,” Duncan said. He came over and sat down in a chair facing her. “It’s possible Kingston Corporation contracted to legally dispose of the pesticide, but instead of putting it in their landfill, they stashed it to sell to another country where it isn’t banned.”

  “But four years? Kids swim in that quarry every summer. How come they didn’t find it? Jane thinks the pond flooded early last winter, so the crates would have been visible before then.”

  Duncan thought for a minute, then tilted his head at her. “What if this was just one of many shipments? What if they put those particular crates there last fall, and were planning on moving them this spring before the kids got out of school? I’m sure nobody goes out to that island in the winter. It would be nothing but a frozen rock.”

  Willow thought about what he was suggesting, and suddenly sat up straighter. “Then Kingston Corporation’s records would show they’ve been taking in that particular pesticide on a regular basis for the last four years. But if we don’t find any of it actually buried at the waste site, that would mean they’ve been selling it all along.”

  “Are ya planning on working the shovel, or are ya leaving that job to me? How in hell are ya going to find out if there’s pesticides buried there or not?”

  “It’s a hazardous waste site. Surely they have to keep a log or map or something of where they bury everything. They can’t risk putting two incompatible chemicals beside each other, or they could blow a good chunk of Maine off the map.”

  Duncan stood up, paced back to the window, and turned to her. “So ya’re wanting us to break into Kingston’s office, rifle through their files, and then start digging where we think the pesticide is?”

  “No,” she said, waving that away. “We’ll break in, rifle through their files, and see if they have a record of taking in that pesticide. If they do, then we’ll sneak back out and call my boss and let him do the digging.”

  “The moment he hears yar voice, Pike’s going to demand ya turn yourself in. Or have ya forgotten your half-million dollars sitting in an overseas bank account?”

  She waved that away, too. “I know lots of good lawyers. I didn’t throw that case, and I can prove it.”

  “How?”

  “I keep meticulous records.”

  “I imagine ya would, espe
cially if you’re planning on losing a case, counselor. A good prosecutor will blow your records out of the water.”

  Willow hung her head. He was right. It’s what she would do if she were prosecuting someone in her position. “That overseas account has got to be connected to this Kingston thing.” She looked up at Duncan. “Why else would it have suddenly appeared with my name on it, along with an anonymous letter to John and the news media? I bet it’s an account they’ve had for some time, a sort of insurance policy that they could put anyone’s name on to set them up.”

  “Aye. But proving that is going to take some doing.”

  Willow shook her head. “All we need is one credible witness,” she said, leaning back on the couch and crossing her arms under her breasts. “This entire operation takes manpower. It’s not just a few executives shuffling paperwork; it’s several men willing to risk their lives to move crates, a broker who sets up their foreign sales, and someone on the clerical staff at Kingston who’s willing to look the other way when the bills of lading show up without the crates.”

  “Okay,” Duncan said, crossing his own arms over his chest. “Let’s assume we do find that they’ve been selling illegal pesticides for the last four years. That would mean the boat that left Thunder Island yesterday morning did not go just forty miles down the coast, it likely went out to sea.”

  “And if Gramps was following them…” Willow whispered, unable to finish the sentence.

  Duncan came over, sat down beside her on the couch, and took her hand in his. “Ya need to prepare yourself for the worst, lass. Gramps would have followed them until he had only enough fuel left to bring him back home. And he would have been in radio contact with someone.”

  “You think he’s dead, don’t you?”

  “I think it’s a very good possibility, Willow. Unless he had mechanical trouble that caused an electrical failure, we would have heard from him by now. And the Gulf of Maine is a very busy place this time of year. If Gramps’s boat were simply floating on the currents, someone would have crossed his path by now.”

  Willow turned and buried her face in Duncan’s chest, heaving a shuddering sigh when he enclosed her in his warm, comforting embrace. “That would change everything,” she said into his shirt. “It would escalate this crime to murder.”

  He tilted her chin up to look at him in the dim light. “Aye, but only if we find Gramps’s boat and can prove there’s something foul about his disappearance.” He smiled down at her. “Then again, the old bastard may come rowing home on his own. I saw his boat that night on the pier. It’s fully equipped with survival gear. So what I’m saying, lass, is that ya should be prepared for the worst, but don’t write Gramps off just yet.”

  Willow stretched upward until her lips came into contact with his. Duncan tightened his arms around her with a grunt of approval, and canted his head, urging her to open her mouth.

  Need blossomed inside her like the static charge of an impending storm. Willow wiggled around until she was sitting astraddle his lap, not once losing contact with Duncan’s deliciously provocative lips. How could this man—this protective, possessive, dangerously passionate man—make her forget her resolve every time he touched her?

  “We have to stop,” he growled, breaking the kiss and running his lips over her cheek. “They’re here.”

  “They?” she whispered, trailing her mouth across his jaw to nuzzle his ear.

  He took hold of her shoulders and held her away. “Our partners in crime just drove up.”

  No sooner had he said that, when Willow heard a vehicle door slam. She tried scooting off Duncan’s lap, but he pulled her back against him and tucked her head under his chin. “Shhh. Let them think we’ve been making out. I love watching Jane’s reaction when we remind her ya’re getting some action and she isn’t.”

  Willow poked him in the side. “You pervert. Jane’s my friend, and it’s not nice to enjoy her frustration.”

  “She could end her frustration any time she wants. Jason is ready, willing, and able.”

  “But does he respect her mind?”

  Duncan drew his head back. “Her mind?” he repeated, rolling his eyes. “For Jason, the mind is the most sensual organ.”

  Willow beamed at him. “And for you?” she asked quickly, hearing the kitchen door open. “What turns you on, Duke Duncan?”

  “Having a woman write troglodyte on my hand,” he said with a laugh, leaning down and kissing her with all the drama of a stage farce.

  The living room light snapped on and a snort came from the kitchen doorway. “You two are worse than a pair of lovesick rabbits,” Jane said. “Come on, we have an office to break into.”

  Duncan still didn’t release Willow.

  “They found Gramps’s boat,” Kee said solemnly. “Or rather, they found what’s left of it floating at sea. It appears to have burned down to the waterline.”

  Willow gasped, and Duncan pulled her tightly against him, one of his large hands holding her head to his chest, as if he could protect her from the heartache of the news. “And Gramps?” he asked.

  “They didn’t find any sign of him,” Kee said. “Only his empty life raft, opened and floating near the wreckage, and his cold-water survival suit.”

  “I have to go to Mildred,” Willow said, struggling to get free.

  Duncan held her tight. “Nay, lass. Ya have to finish this. We have to figure out where that boat is going so it can be intercepted while still in possession of its cargo.”

  “They found the wreckage seventy nautical miles east of here,” Kee said. “Draw a straight line, and it looks like Gramps was heading to the southern or southeastern tip of Nova Scotia.”

  “There’s nothing on the eastern side of Nova Scotia but sparsely populated fishing villages,” Jason added, stepping over and putting his arm around a softly weeping Jane. “It is, however, the most direct route to St. John’s, Newfoundland, which is a good jumping-off point for air cargo.”

  “It’s an awful roundabout way to go just to ship cargo,” Duncan said, still holding Willow and still keeping his hand over her head. “But they may be using one of those fishing villages or a deserted old cannery or something on the eastern shore of Nova Scotia.”

  Willow was shaking—not just with grief, but with anger. There had been no need for those men to kill a defenseless old man. And so help her God, if she ever caught up with the bastards, she’d throw them overboard and let the sea claim their soulless bodies the same way they had let it claim Gramps.

  Willow knew it was very un-attorney general of her to think that way, but then, she was sorely tired of being politically correct when it came to dealing with criminals. Sometimes she wished society would smarten up and bring back public floggings.

  Duncan finally took hold of her shoulders and leaned her away just enough that he could see into her eyes. “We’ll find them, Willow,” he said gently. “And then ya can get your revenge in court.”

  “I have no intention of prosecuting them,” she said. “I’m going to make sure they have an accident at sea.”

  He clasped her chin, his smile tender and his eyes dancing. “Aye, that’s what I’m needing to hear, counselor. So are ya ready to drive the getaway car?”

  “I want to go inside with you.”

  “Nay,” he said, his hand on her chin tightening. “You and Jane will be our lookouts. We’ll do the breaking and entering.” His grin slashed sinister. “We’re good at it, ya see.”

  “You don’t know what you’re looking for.”

  “I know as much as you do,” he countered. “Jason and I go in, you and Jane keep watch, and then we play whatever cards we find. Maybe we’ll find some sort of paperwork that will give us a ship’s name, or a contact.”

  “Edward Simmons can’t be part of this,” Willow said, glancing at Jane. “It must be going on without his knowledge.”

  Duncan used her chin to make her look back at him. “Who is Edward Simmons?”

  “He’s one of the
owners of Kingston Corporation. And he’s a prominent lawyer here in the state. He ran for governor two elections ago. He’s a good man. Maybe we can get him to help us.”

  Duncan immediately shook his head. “If Simmons doesn’t know what’s going on, then he’s off the hook. But until we know all the players and their roles, we trust no one. Understood?”

  Jane stepped away from Jason. “I get to drive the getaway car.”

  “Why you?” Willow asked, finally crawling off Duncan’s lap when he turned to glare at Jane.

  “Because I didn’t just total my truck.”

  Willow shot her a scathing glare, then walked up to Kee. “You’re not coming with us,” she told him. “I will not be responsible for worrying my sister sick. Go home.”

  Kee looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh in her face. Duncan sighed and stood up, walked over, and turned Willow to face him. “If ya need to go to the bathroom, go now,” he told her, also glancing at Jane to include her. “Ya can’t be visiting the woods when you’re a getaway driver. Ya got to be ready to drive.”

  “Kee is not going with us.”

  “He’s got something else he’s doing for us.”

  “What?”

  Duncan just smiled and pushed her toward the hallway. “We’ll meet ya in the truck. Ya have three minutes, then we’re leaving without ya.”

  Willow stopped in the doorway of the bathroom and looked past Jane, who had followed her. “You don’t even know where you’re going.”

  “I can read a map,” Duncan told her. “And Jane is driving.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “He doesn’t kiss like a caveman,” Jane whispered.

  Willow turned from staring out the window at the woods where Duncan and Jason had disappeared thirty minutes ago, and looked at her friend. “Duncan kissed you?”

  Jane looked momentarily startled, then snorted and shook her head. “Not Duncan. Jason,” she whispered, fidgeting with the key chain dangling from the ignition of Luke’s truck. “On the Seven-to-Two Odds, right after you and Duncan left, and Ahab got done bawling us out for breaking that pulley. I was down below, getting our gear, when Jason came down and…and kissed me.”