Shielding the Suspect

by C. J. Miller

  Susan folded her arms over her chest, trying to focus on the task at hand. She wanted the truth, to bring Justin’s killer to justice and to clear her name. “Brady, wait a minute.” Spinning on her heel, he stopped short, but his body was inches from hers. He didn’t step away and she held her ground on principle.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked. If he was arrested because of her, if he got into trouble because of her plan, she wouldn’t forgive herself.

  She could smell him, the light, soapy scent of his clothes and the masculine scent of his aftershave.

  “I’m certain. We’ve come this far. Don’t lose your courage now.”

  Courage was a big deal to Brady. He associated it with acting with honor. “I’m not ‘losing my courage.’ I don’t want to drag you into my mess. Look what happened to the last two men who were around me. Reilly is in trouble. Justin is dead.”

  “Thanks for your concern, but I’ll be fine,” Brady said, sarcasm lacing his voice. He took her elbow and they continued.

  When they reached Justin’s boat, Brady stilled.

  Her heart was pounding so hard, she felt dizzy. “What’s the matter?” she asked, looking around, certain they’d been caught.

  “He named his boat after you.”

  Susan frowned. Sketchy Lady, Justin’s nod to her, and a name he’d found amusing. She was an artist and she liked to draw, take photographs and sketch.

  “He thought it was funny.”

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  Susan sighed. Justin had bought the boat before they’d been engaged. He’d said buying it was the fulfillment of a dream he’d had since he was a child.

  “I think he was poking fun at my work and my art.” It had seemed like a laugh at her expense, but Susan hadn’t said anything, thinking she was being oversensitive.

  Brady looked at her, his eyes traveling down her body. His gaze raked over her, leaving her skin pricking with heat.

  “What?” Susan asked, brushing at the drops of rain on her face.

  “I’m questioning for the hundredth time what you saw in him.”

  She’d tried to make it work with someone who was wrong for her. Lots of people did it, hence the high divorce rate.

  “You knew him. He was smart and focused and career-driven.” Safe and unadventurous, Justin was the complete opposite of Brady. When she’d started dating Justin, she hadn’t seen his stability and practicality as a problem. He could sometimes be obtuse about her feelings and it was something she’d hoped would change as they grew closer.

  “I did know him. That’s why I’m surprised you went for it,” Brady said.

  “Went for what? Dating him?”

  Brady snorted. “He had his eye on you from the moment he met you. That you were mine only made you more appealing.”

  Annoyance tweaked her thoughts. “You’re saying he was interested in me because I was dating you? Doesn’t that seem a bit egotistical on your part?”

  Brady folded his arms over his chest. “No. It’s the truth. Justin was always in competition with someone. The moment he met you, he wanted you. He was waiting for me to be gone to pounce.”

  “That’s not true. He was being a friend to me because he knew I was hurt when you left.” Hurt and confused.

  Brady tipped his head to the side as if to say, Do you really believe that?

  “I know you two didn’t get along. He was still a good person,” Susan said.

  She turned away from Brady, cutting off further conversation on the matter. They needed to hurry. Walking to the boat in silence, they boarded. Susan took a deep breath and tried to slow her racing heart. The last time she had been on this boat, she had woken up alone in the living room with blood on her hands. She had been confused and sick to her stomach and had called the police. Shoving aside those memories, she focused on what happened before waking up on the boat. What had occurred that had led to Justin’s death?

  Fear tightened in her stomach and her thoughts skidded to a stop. “What if I remember that I killed him?”

  Brady shook his head. “You didn’t kill him. It doesn’t make sense. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Her mother’s words replayed through her mind. Susan had done something wrong, but was it enough for the police to twist it into murder? No one was blameless. “But if I remember something incriminating—”

  “If you do—and I have no problems saying this because you won’t—then we’ll deal with it. We’ll tell the police what happened and we’ll get clear on why someone wants to hurt you. At least it will be out in the open and we can deal with facts, not missing information and guesswork,” Brady said.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance and the rain fell harder, plopping against the hull of the boat.

  “Give me a couple of minutes to get this door open,” Brady said.

  Susan turned her back to him and watched the dock while Brady picked the lock on the door. His Special Forces skills were useful time and again. She got a thrill at his physical prowess. He was quick and agile, smart and shrewd. His strength was only second to his honor. He would never become a man who beat a woman. He would never turn into her abusive father. Knowing that with every ounce of her being had made falling for him and giving him her trust easier. What did she feel about Brady now? He wasn’t her boyfriend or her lover. He was acting as an ally, but his loyalties were first to his brother. If Reilly hadn’t been involved, Susan felt sure Brady wouldn’t be either.

  Susan squinted into the dark, the light of nearby boats casting shadows. Some of the boats were dry-docked. Those would be vacant. Were she and Brady alone? Was someone watching them? Or was it her paranoia? Goose bumps rose on her arms.

  “Okay, it’s open,” Brady muttered.

  Susan turned away from the dock. Brady stepped inside the main cabin and shined his flashlight around the small space. “Nice place.”

  Susan followed him inside with dread heavy on her chest. Lights from the dock glared through the curtained windows. They couldn’t risk turning on lights and drawing attention.

  Susan waited near the door, watching the pier for movement. Water lapped against the boat, rocking it slowly.

  “Tell me what you did when you first stepped onto the boat,” Brady said.

  Susan looked around. This was where she had woken. In this room. She suppressed her nerves and focused. “Justin and I talked about work. About life. We ate. We opened a bottle of wine. We talked.” The maroon upholstered couch faced the wet bar, the grey carpet in between. The television mounted against the wall. That morning, blood had been spattered on the screen. She shivered.

  “What did you talk about? Be more specific,” Brady said.

  Susan closed her eyes and inhaled. The boat smelled differently, like cleaning products and heavy pine air freshener. The crime scene cleanup team had done their job.

  Justin had begged her to meet him. She’d broken their engagement the night before he’d died. Guilt twisted hard at her chest. Susan hadn’t told the police that. More questions would have come and it would have been difficult to explain why she had broken up with him. It could be twisted into a motive for murder.

  Ending their relationship had been the only option for her. She wasn’t happy and had felt their relationship had been rushed, but not in a finger-snap, instant attraction way. Nothing like the day she’d met Brady. Had seeing Brady in the hospital affected her decision? He’d crossed her mind over the months with a mix of hurt, anger and longing. She had never dealt fully with those emotions and she wondered if they had dealt with her, encouraging her to end her relationship with Justin and find peace about the past.

  How could she be in a relationship with one man while she harbored unresolved feelings for another?

  She wasn’t on the boat to think about Brady. Just
in needed her. He didn’t have anyone else who could speak about what had happened. What had she and Justin talked about? The conversation had been stilted and Justin had been angry with her. Scorn had underlined every word and he’d taken verbal jabs at her. She’d felt she’d deserved them for breaking up with him. He had been hurt and angry.

  “We talked about what we did at work. Annoying stories about coworkers.” Not a lie. Not the whole truth either. Could she confide the whole truth to Brady? In the past, she hadn’t hesitated to tell him her most private thoughts and secrets.

  Thinking about Justin sent sadness crashing down on her, dragging her further into her morose thoughts. How had everything turned so terrible in such a short time?

  “Did he say anything about work that could help? Did he have an argument with a coworker or a disagreement with his boss?” Brady asked.

  Justin hadn’t mentioned a specific argument with a coworker. Justin frequently had disagreements with coworkers. If he’d had another, it would have been an ordinary event. Susan had gotten the sense that it annoyed his coworkers that he behaved with an air of entitlement because his father was a lieutenant general in the air force and he felt it brought prestige to the firm. “Minor arguments. What could an accountant do that would anger someone enough to kill him?”

  “He works with money. Other people’s money. Money is a motive for murder.”

  Susan had thought about that. The economy was volatile. People were in desperate straits. But Justin was a corporate accountant. From what he’d said about his job, he analyzed ledgers, prepared reports and looked for cost-saving measures. “Justin never talked about problems with any clients.”

  “Doesn’t mean he didn’t have them,” Brady said.

  Susan couldn’t talk to Justin’s boss or his coworkers. Like the police, they were holding her responsible for the murder. She’d have no pull with anyone in Justin’s office.

  “Did you feel sick at any point? Did you lie down and fall asleep?” Brady asked.

  She had been tired, but she hadn’t taken a nap and she hadn’t planned to spend the night on the boat. “The last thing I remember is talking with Justin at dinner. I woke up and my face felt sticky. I looked at my hands and they were covered in blood.” She had called out for Justin. She had looked around the boat. She had found her cell phone in her handbag on top of the bar and dialed 911.

  “How did you feel when you woke up?” he asked.

  “I had a headache and I was nauseated. I was scared and confused.”

  She looked around the room again, willing her brain to recall some important slice of information. Rain was splattering hard against the boat’s roof. She wished it were quiet so she could think. Letting out a cry of frustration, Susan paced. “This isn’t working.”

  “Try not to get upset. It won’t make it easier,” Brady said, his voice low and soothing. “Try to let the memories flow.”

  Susan didn’t want to sit or touch anything in the room. It was clean, but in her mind, everything was covered in blood.

  “Did Justin have a gun?” Brady said.

  Susan shook her head. “I don’t think he had a gun. I’ll check the safes.” She wondered about the books she had seen in the picture she’d taken. Would they be in either of the safes?

  Susan led the way to the bedroom. The bedroom safe was open and empty. Susan moved to the galley, removing the front of a cabinet and setting it on the floor. She reached into the cabinet and slid the false backing to the right, revealing the safe. Crouching in the cabinet, she opened the safe’s combination lock. To her surprise, the safe was filled. “Looks like they only found the one safe.” Had they searched the boat if they hadn’t looked in the galley cabinets? Or was searching the boat not important? How much forensic work and gathering of evidence had been done?

  Dread curled in her stomach. The detective assigned to Justin’s homicide was sure she was responsible for Justin’s death. Had the police done enough investigative work or considered other suspects? Was she the easiest target for a busy detective’s caseload? Or had the real killer framed her for the murder, wrapping up the case for the police in a neat package?

  Inside the galley safe were bills in small denominations, paperwork on the boat, several keys on a canary keychain, copies of Justin’s driver’s license and passport, and three notebooks. She took the notebooks from the safe and opened the top one.

  “Are those the books you saw in the picture? What are they?” Brady asked.

  They looked like Justin’s accounting ledgers, lists of bills and expenses, some for the boat, some for his house. In the back of one of the books was a notecard with names and passwords. “His accounting sheets for his bills and some logins and passwords.” Nothing mind-blowing. Disappointment assailed her. She had been clinging to the hope they would find something more inside them. Some indication why anyone would want to murder Justin and something that would clear her name or jog her memory about that night. The thought was silly, of course. Justin hadn’t prepared a list of suspects for her to find in the event of his death.

  Brady knelt next to her. In the cramped quarters of the galley, Susan had nowhere to move to get away from him. Brady crowded her, as if sticking close on purpose and trying to provoke a response from her. Her body betrayed her, desire plucking at her body and she fought the urge to lean into him for support.

  If she needed emotional support, Brady wasn’t the right person to turn to. She’d better burn that into her memory. The moment she let herself rely on him, he’d back away. He’d done it when he’d broken up with her and he’d done it after the kiss they’d shared in his cabin.

  Brady took the second notebook from her. He paused midway through, paged back and then forward again. “What are these?” he asked, pointing the beam of his flashlight onto two columns, one with the date and one with an amount of money.

  The ledger showed over two dozen payments, starting in smaller amounts and rising to larger sums over a period of eighteen months. Brady pointed to the last date in the ledger. “If these are payments, one week before he died, he made another in the amount of eighty thousand dollars.”

  That couldn’t be right. Justin was well off, but he didn’t have tens of thousands of dollars to spare. “Maybe they aren’t payments he made. Maybe they’re money owed for accounting services. Or maybe he’s tracking estimated taxes for a client.”

  “In a ledger he kept on his private boat?” Brady asked.

  It did sound strange. Susan flipped to another page of the notebook, looking for an explanation, and found none. “Justin didn’t have this kind of money. He made a good salary as an accountant and he had some family money, but he didn’t rake in enough to dole it out by the thousands. He wouldn’t have given away this money and I don’t know where he could have gotten money like this.”

  Brady took out his phone and snapped a picture of the pages listing the dates and dollar amounts. “What’s in the other notebook?”

  The other notebook proved as ambiguous. Some names, or nicknames, along with dates and payments. Brady snapped more pictures of the pages.

  “Did he say anything to you about these?” Brady asked.

  She would have questioned it if he had. “He never mentioned huge sums of money being paid out or in, but if those are Justin’s billable hours, I can see him keeping close track of them.” Justin had been meticulous and detail-oriented. It was part of why he had been a successful accountant, despite his personality conflicts with his coworkers.

  A creak sounded and Susan jumped, clutching Brady’s arm. Brady turned off the flashlight and pushed her behind him.

  Was someone on the boat with them? The boat swayed in the water and the rain had let up, the pounding on the roof noticeably lightening. Susan peered around Brady’s shoulder, trying to see into the dark. She released his arm, realizing her nails had been diggin
g into his coat. Silence. Had the noise been the boat rocking in the water?

  Brady’s hand brushed hers, stroking silently in a calming gesture. She got the message without needing the words. She needed to stay quiet. The second, more reassuring part of the message: Brady would keep her safe.

  Chapter 5

  Another sound echoed through cabin. The wind? The slight shifting of something on the boat?

  The next sound was clearer. The crackling, flicking, unmistakable sound of fire. Brady pulled her to her feet and they stopped at the entryway to the galley. Smoke, thick and acrid, filled her nostrils. Justin’s boat was on fire!

  Blood roared in Susan’s ears. How could she stop the fire? Justin had a fire extinguisher, but Susan wasn’t certain she could find it in the dark. They needed to get off the boat and warn everyone along the pier to get to safety. How quickly could a fire spread from boat to boat?

  “Susan, come on!” Brady’s voice broke into her thoughts. How long had she been standing, staring, paralyzed by the sight of the fire?

  Brady dragged her out of the room. Dodging the flames, Susan and Brady raced onto the main deck. The fire was spreading, cracking and hissing into the night air. They couldn’t reach the pier, flames blocking their way. Were those people on the pier? The people who had started the fire? In the dark and with the flames from the fire dancing around them, it was difficult for her to focus her eyes.

  The next boat was too far away to jump.

  “Get in the water!” Brady shouted.

  The water? It was cold and dark. They couldn’t see where they were swimming. What was in the water? How deep was it? Was it safe to jump? The thunder rolled in the distance.

  A loud pop sounded and Brady’s hands were on her waist, throwing her over the side of the boat. The water was shockingly cold and stung her hands and face on impact. Susan struggled to pull off her shoes and peel off her jacket, the weight threatening to keep her under. She’d been on her high school’s swim team, but this was different from swimming in a pool. The depth. The cold. The dark.