Luke spun around and hissed at her. "Be quiet!"
But he was too late.
A white-faced Christina West was standing at the entrance to the salon. She was still wearing her apron from the café. She seemed unable to speak.
Betsy got shakily to her feet. What had she done? "Chris—"
Luke didn't move, didn't look at either woman. Christina whispered something unintelligible, flew around and ran out.
"Go after her!" Spit flew out of Luke's mouth, and he pressed his palm into the middle of Betsy's back and shoved her, propelling her across the carpeted floor. "Undo the damage you've done. Then pack up and get off my boat."
"Luke—Luke, I know you're tired—"
He pushed her again. "Go!"
Sobbing, Betsy staggered for the afterdeck, tripping over chairs as she stumbled onto the slip. Christina was faster, younger, upset but not as shattered, not as terrified as Betsy was. Betsy was shaking. She couldn't walk properly. The finger slip undulated under her with the wake of a passing sightseeing boat. She thought about flinging herself into the water. Maybe she'd drown. Maybe she'd die of hypothermia. Maybe Luke would rescue her.
But she wasn't going to kill herself.
And nobody would ever rescue her.
* * *
A damp southwest breeze brought with it gray clouds and the smell of impending rain. J.B. noted that Zoe's color was better than when he'd first charged into her house with Kyle Castellane. She was perched on an old wooden lobster pot in his rented boat, staring out at the harbor and thinking. Or maybe not thinking. She wasn't talking.
They'd found her VW on a side street about a half mile from her house, the keys on the dashboard. Shelton must have parked his truck there and walked down to Ocean Drive, crossed over to the water and gone about his business. J.B. called the police to let them know.
Since Shelton had shot at Zoe, the police wanted to go over the car thoroughly. After she and J.B. gave statements, he drove her down to the town docks and Bruce's disreputable boat.
Zoe had jumped right in, a reminder she'd grown up on the coast and had been jumping in and out of boats all her life.
Bruce was out in deep water. J.B. radioed him, but Bruce had heard about Shelton. "I haven't seen that asshole," Bruce said, referring to his former tenant. "Zoe okay? She got shot?"
"Shelton missed. She cut her hand on a piece of flying glass."
"Christina?"
"Wasn't involved."
"I'm coming in. See you soon."
Zoe breathed in deeply, as if she wanted to suck in as much of the ocean air as she could, as if it had secret healing powers or maybe just would crowd out the demons. "Bruce's father took me out on this very boat when I was a little kid. I figured out pretty quick I didn't want to be a lobsterman. It's almost a calling in a lot of ways."
"When did you know you wanted to be a cop?"
"Then." She blinked up at the sky, her eyes the same gray as the clouds, the blue flecks seeming to have disappeared. "I knew I wanted to catch bad guys like my father. I didn't want to catch lobsters. It was one of those rare moments in life of absolute clarity, where you just know what you're meant to do."
Those were rare moments, J.B. thought.
She turned from the water, the late-afternoon light making her short curls seem a tone darker, the wind blowing wisps off her face. "It seems I was wrong."
"Not for the past ten years. Maybe for the next ten."
She shifted back to the water. Her back seemed stiff, and blood had oozed through her bandage. She'd declined again to go to the E.R. "It must have been a moment of a different kind of clarity this summer with the man you killed."
The man you killed.
That was what he'd done. Forget the euphemisms, forget the reasons. He'd killed a man.
"Maybe it would have been worse," Zoe said quietly, "if his children had to watch their father kill you."
"Maybe it would have been better if I'd seen it coming and prevented it."
"Hindsight."
J.B. nodded. "I know. I did what I had to do. I don't have regrets so much as—" He looked out at the gray water, still, mirrorlike as the breeze died down. "Demons, I guess."
"They're not why Teddy Shelton shot at me today," Zoe said. "My demons are."
He was silent. There didn't seem to be anything to say.
She rose stiffly, wincing, and glanced around. "This is a very scary boat. Only Bruce and a risk-taking undercover FBI type would think it's seaworthy."
"You don't want to go for a ride?"
She smiled. "I don't think so. I'd like to have a chat with Luke. You?"
"Next item on my agenda."
They walked along the dock, mingling with sight
seers and a stray dog Zoe recognized and had to pet. Luke was drinking a bottle of spring water on his afterdeck but didn't invite them on board. "If you're looking for Betsy, she's gone for a walk. Kyle? Here earlier, but gone, he didn't say where. If it's Christina you want, she was here a moment but ran off, apparently having misunderstood a discussion Betsy and I were having." He glanced up at Zoe. "Does that answer all your questions?"
She didn't wait to be invited and climbed on board, and J.B. followed her lead. He'd had a look around the Castellane yacht earlier when he'd talked to Betsy O'Keefe. It was a hell of a nice boat, but he thought he liked his better.
"I haven't seen you since I've been back, Luke." Zoe pulled out a chair at the round table and sat down. "How's it going? Kyle tell you about his second encounter with Teddy Shelton?"
Luke's lips thinned, and he took a swallow from his water bottle without answering.
"You know Teddy," Zoe went on. "Drifter type. He showed up in town last summer."
"Yes. I know Teddy Shelton." Luke's tone was stiff, borderline unfriendly. "I've noticed an increase in tensions around here since you came back. Connecticut didn't work out?"
"For a while. Then, no, it didn't."
"Betsy saw you on Breaking News this summer."
"That was a wild few days," Zoe said.
His resentment of her was plain. "You got your killer."
She said nothing.
Luke sighed audibly and set his bottle on the table. "I considered your father a friend. I adored Olivia. I don't know you and Christina as well, but I've tried to do right by you since their deaths. When Special Agent McGrath turned up in town, I was concerned his very presence, whether or not he was on vacation researching his genealogy, would put people on edge."
"So you hired Teddy Shelton?"
"After I got worried about McGrath. Just to keep me informed. Then you came back, and I asked him to let me know if you started to unravel again." He raised his watery eyes to her. "You know what I mean. I don't have to spell it out."
"You didn't want me to hit the self-destruct button again," Zoe said.
J.B. noted her tone was objective, but she'd started to rub one finger along the edge of her bloody bandage, staring at it. Luke made a small gesture with one hand, as if he wasn't agreeing or disagreeing with her. "I had no idea Teddy would beat up my son or take a shot at you."
"Have you seen him or talked to him since it happened?" J.B. asked.
"I left a message on his cell phone, firing him."
Another breeze stirred, and J.B. thought he felt a drop of rain. "Did you tell the police?"
"Of course. I gave them his cell phone number, not that they can't get it on their own. I have nothing to hide, if that's what you're implying."
J.B. shrugged and didn't respond.
"I don't know what Teddy's game is. He could be working for someone else. He could be running his own angle. Kyle could simply have caught him at the wrong time, in the wrong place, and we're all overreacting."
"Could Teddy have followed Kyle to Olivia's?" Zoe asked.
Luke replaced the cap on his bottle of water. "I have no idea."
"Have you seen what he's collected for his documentary? I'm wondering if Teddy thinks there's mon
ey to be made there." She pushed back her chair, rising. "Even blackmail money."
"You're reaching, Zoe. Now, if you don't mind—"
"Kyle's not trying to find my father's murderer, is he?"
Luke was on his feet but stiffened visibly at her question. "I don't have to answer your questions, do I? This isn't an official visit, is it?"
Zoe didn't back down. "Who else knows you hired Shelton?"
"You might not approve, Zoe, but my arrangement with Teddy wasn't illegal. What he's done on his own isn't my fault. I won't allow you or anyone else to tarnish me because of it." He yawned, covering his mouth. "If you two will excuse me, I have work to do. I'm leaving Goose Harbor in the morning. I don't usually stay this late in the season as it is."
"What about Betsy?" Zoe asked.
"She won't be coming with me."
J.B. thought that was the first bit of good news he'd heard. Betsy O'Keefe deserved better than this snot. He looked at Zoe. "I guess this means dinner on the yacht tonight's canceled."
Luke ignored him. Zoe spun on her toes and got off his boat. J.B. could
sense her anger. She shot ahead of him and was out to the main dock before he caught up with her. She marched along at a brisk pace. "I can't believe Aunt Olivia didn't see what a coldhearted bastard he is. I know people who've come out of abusive childhoods. They don't treat people like cockroaches. They—" She stopped herself. "It was the tone he used when he mentioned Betsy that got to me. Like she wasn't worthy of going south with him. The summer stuff you leave behind in Maine."
"He's a condescending prick."
She gave him a sideways glance. "Your professional opinion?"
"They teach us to recognize condescending pricks in the academy. You should have gone."
For the first time in hours, she laughed. It was good to see. J.B. slipped his hand into hers, and she didn't pull away. "You need a new bandage."
"Christina has a first-aid kit at the café."
He nodded. "I thought you might want to talk to her."
Twenty-Six
Christina wouldn't let them in. She'd locked the café door and was down on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor with a bristle brush. Zoe pounded on the door. "Chris! Come on. I know you're upset about something Luke said."
She didn't respond at once. Zoe, more worried than annoyed, gave her a chance to collect herself. Christina didn't like to be pushed. Finally, she got up and unlocked the door, then turned away quickly, dropping her brush into her bucket so hard, water and suds splashed out.
Zoe had seen her tears but wasn't sure J.B. had. The café smelled of cleaning detergent and looked as if it'd been scrubbed from corner to corner. Christina was on a tear.
"Chris?" Zoe's voice was gentle, and she approached her sister slowly, reaching out one hand tentatively, as if Chris might bite it. "What's wrong? What happened with you and Luke?"
"Oh, that's not important." Her back was rigid as she stared into her cleaning bucket, fat locks of hair hanging in front of her face. "I heard you were shot at. That's much more important than anything I've been through."
Zoe heard the hurt in her voice, the fear, recognized that Christina wasn't being bitter or sarcastic but trying to put into perspective whatever had happened to her. Zoe didn't move, didn't touch her. "Shelton wasn't shooting at me, Chris. I'm fine. He shot over my head to drop me in my tracks and give himself a chance to escape. He'd stumbled on Kyle—"
"That's right. My sneak of a no-good boyfriend."
Christina whirled around, her apron dripping, her ruffled blouse soaked up to the elbows. Her face was raw and red from crying. But she didn't seem to notice. She was focused only on Zoe. "Why did you come back? Maybe the first break-in was nothing—just someone looking for silver."
"Chris, we don't know that Teddy Shelton has anything—"
She refused to listen. "Kyle—Kyle never would have sneaked into Aunt Olivia's attic if you'd shown any interest at all in what he's doing. Now—" She spun back around and gave her bucket a kick, more water splashing out on the floor. "Now his own father thinks he was involved somehow in Dad's death. That bastard."
"Is that what you believe?" Zoe asked quietly. "That Kyle was involved?"
"No! How could you suggest such a thing?"
"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm asking. Because if you don't believe it—"
Christina faced her sister again, her gray eyes dark with emotion. "I don't believe it."
"What about Kyle? Does he know his father thinks—"
"Of course. He must."
"Have you asked him?"
She shook her head. "The two of them are hard to figure out. I've quit trying." Her voice was hoarse but calmer, some of the fight gone out of her. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's afraid Luke had something to do with Dad's death, if the two of them aren't trying to protect—" But she didn't finish, squeezed back tears. "I can't—Zoe, can you understand? Can you understand that I just don't want to think about it anymore? I don't want it to be a part of me anymore. Dad's murder. Aunt Olivia. The whole mess."
Zoe nodded. "I can understand."
"I'm sorry." She spat it out, then softened. "I know it's not your fault."
"Where's Kyle now?"
"I don't know. I haven't seen him. I'm sure he's feeling stupid and inadequate over what happened with you and Teddy Shelton. I'll finish up here and go look for him." She cleared her throat, quickly stepped out of a puddle she'd made, apparently not realizing she'd been standing in it all along. "What about your car?"
"We found it," Zoe said without explanation.
"Well, that's good, isn't it? One thing, anyway."
Christina attempted a smile, but it faded quickly. "Maybe we're letting Shelton spin us around until we're all nuts, and none of this has anything to do with who killed Dad."
"That's possible. We'll just have to see."
J.B. stepped forward, steering clear of the wet spots on the floor. "Let us help you finish up here," he said quietly.
Christina looked at the mess she'd made and peeled off her dripping apron, dropping it in a puddle on the floor and swirling it around with her toe like a makeshift mop. She smiled at them through her tears. "Sure. Mops and sponges are out back."
Bruce Young materialized in the doorway. "This'll be fun. I want to see an FBI agent mop a floor." His natural good humor seemed to infuse the place with positive vibes, and he walked right in and tugged on Christina's long, messy braid. "You okay, kiddo? You look like shit."
"Now I feel great, Bruce. Thanks." She rolled her eyes at him, but smiled.
He turned to Zoe. "Crappy day?"
"You could say that."
Bruce acknowledged her words with a rare display
of seriousness. "Teddy didn't kill your dad. I'd bet both my boats on that, Zoe. He's just your basic meat."
J.B. retreated to the back room, got a sponge mop and a bunch of rags, returned and shoved the rags at Bruce. "Swab up some of this water.You ought to be good at that."
"Aye-aye, Captain. Hell, you armed? Were you wearing that thing last night at Perry's? No way am I playing darts with you if you've got a goddamn gun. It's loaded?"
J.B.
ignored him and started mopping the floor. Christina shivered in her wet blouse but seemed more cheerful. Bruce pulled off his Carhartt and slipped it over her shoulders, and she murmured her thanks.
Zoe noticed Betsy O'Keefe down on the docks by herself and decided to try to talk to her without the FBI standing next to her. Not that Luke's rudeness was J.B.'s fault—Luke was going to be difficult with or without
J.B.
there.She started backing toward the door, but J.B. pointed his mop at her. "Uh-uh. You're staying put." Bruce grinned. "Whoa, the FBI has spoken. Zoe? Were you intending to give Agent McGrath the slip?" "Bruce, I swear I don't know why your father didn't throw you overboard when you were six." "Because he knew you at six and figured you'd need someone to give you a hard time when you were thirty."
/>
Zoe could have taken that answer and run with it, but she directed her attention at J.B. "Betsy's down on the docks. I want to talk to her. Two minutes."
He nodded. "Stay in sight."
It wasn't so much an order as a reminder to use common sense. She'd been shot at once today, Teddy Shelton was still on the loose and J.B. was armed. And Zoe had a lot on her mind. J.B. would see that.
Christina stepped back onto a dry section of floor. "She's just trying to get out of helping." But she sniffled at her sister, and the earlier tension between them might
never have existed. "You want me to go with you?"
"If you think it'd help," Zoe said.
"It could."
Bruce dropped the rags into the puddle of water. "I meant what I said. Teddy's a meat. He's impulsive. He doesn't think things through. But he's not bright enough to get away with murder." Bruce sighed heavily, working at the rags with his toes. "Don't you wish you knew whose side he's on?"
J.B. squeezed out his mop. "I'm not sure it matters."
"Yeah. A friend kills you, you're just as dead." Zoe touched Christina's shoulder. "Let's go."
* * *
"Tell that little fuck son of yours to stay out of my way." Teddy, parked in an out-of-the-way corner of the salt marsh south of the lobster pound, spoke in as low and deadly a voice as he could manage. He wanted to scare the hell out of Luke Castellane. Enough was enough. "He sneaks up on me again, he'll be lucky to live."
Luke was remarkably calm. "My son is an artist. He doesn't think the way you do."
"No shit."
"I didn't call to ask you to defend your actions. Our work together is done. I've already told Zoe, the FBI agent and the Goose Harbor police that I've fired you."
"That right?"
"That's right." There was that cool, snot-nosed tone again.
Teddy didn't know how long he had before the cops picked up his trail, but he wasn't letting Luke get the upper hand, take control. "I suppose now you want me to get out of town."
Luke sniffed. "It makes no difference to me, but I imagine it would be the prudent thing for you to do."
"Gooseshit Harbor. Yeah, I'd love to clear out. Last night, I smack the hell out of your jackass kid. Today, I smack the hell out of your jackass kid. What's his problem? Why's he always in the wrong place at the wrong time?"
The Harbor Page 20
