“I’ll never understand why you stayed with him?” Rick shook his head. It wasn’t the first time he’d said that.
“I know you don’t, Rick, but please believe me, if I could leave him, I would.”
Rick nodded, resigned to the fact he couldn’t change her mind. They’d been over this before, five years ago, when Kaz had suddenly reappeared and demanded his wife come home. She wasn’t able to leave her husband then and she couldn’t now. Nothing had changed.
Except Chris. The love of her life was dead.
“Well, you know you’re always welcome here. Beth’s got a bed made up in the spare-room. We’d be happy to have ya.”
Darling Rick. Always looking out for her. She gave him a sad smile. “I know. Thanks Rick. That means a lot.”
“Let’s have some coffee,” he said, getting up. “I could sure use a cup, perhaps with something extra thrown in, if you know what I mean?”
“I wouldn’t say no.” Sarah followed him into the kitchen. “But just a touch. I’m driving.”
They talked about his kids. He had two teenage daughters, both of whom were at college now. So grown up. Never home. Rick doted on his family. Apart from fishing, they were the most important thing in the world to him.
“You know, there was something else that was strange about the accident,” he said, as they stood outside on the patio overlooking a gorgeous green and gold valley and in the distance, the hazy Columbia River estuary. It was the kind of mesmerising view you had to fight to take your eyes off.
Sarah reluctantly looked away. “Oh, really?”
“The coast guard said it looked like the Lucky Strike had been rammed before she capsized.”
“Rammed? You mean someone sailed into her?” Sarah’s mind went into overdrive. That would explain why they capsized. The only reason Chris would jeopardise the boat was to avoid hitting someone else.
“So they said, but I’m sure I would have remembered.” He spread his hands, a frown on his face. “There was no one else about. Just us.”
“But you were unconscious, you said yourself. You hit your head falling down the gangway. Maybe the other boat appeared after you were knocked out?”
“It’s possible, but unlikely. Like I said, there wasn’t anybody else around. The sea was deserted. Besides, who would venture out in a storm like that?”
“You did,” pointed out Sarah.
“Yeah, I guess so. We were caught unawares. There was no forecast of a storm.”
“So maybe someone else was too?”
He stared across the valley. “Yeah. Maybe.”
Could it be Chris had seen someone else out there that night in the storm? Had he swerved to avoid hitting them? And if so, maybe that’s how the boat had gone over? It made more sense than capsizing in a freak storm. Sarah knew Chris, he was too good a skipper to go over in a storm, no matter how big the waves were. He could outride just about anything. She bit her lip. This explanation made sense. But it also posed more questions.
“Where’s Lucky Strike now?” she asked Rick gripping her coffee cup, her mind working overtime.
“It’s down at the dry dock, awaiting repairs. The forensic team were all over it, then the insurance guys. I was going to get her fixed up and sold.” He gave Sarah a sad look. “I don’t think I could bear to sail her again.”
Sarah put her hand on his arm. Lucky Strike hadn’t been very lucky for the three friends.
“I should get back,” she said, after a short moment.
Rick nodded. He knew better than to ask questions. “It was great to see you, Sarah. I mean it. Don’t leave it so long, next time.”
Sarah gave him one last hug. “Take care of yourself, okay.”
He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You too, young lady. You too.”
Crane watched as Sarah exited the house and walked to her car. The man didn’t come outside to see her off.
She paused to dig in her handbag for her keys. It took her a long time to find them because she kept stopping to wipe her eyes. Was she crying? He wasn’t close enough to see, but from her actions, it sure looked like it. Had something happened between them? Had they argued, or had some sort of altercation? Perhaps he’d broken it off with her, or vice versa? Whatever had occurred, it had upset her.
Finally, she found the car keys and got into the car. After a moment, she started it and reversed out of the drive. He checked his watch. She’d been inside a little over an hour.
Enough time for a quickie.
He ducked down as she drove past, in case she saw him and recognised him from the gym. It was unlikely but one couldn’t be too careful. To to his surprise she pulled over again opposite him. He peeked out the side window, keeping low, but she was too absorbed by what she was doing to notice him. Ah, yes. The disguise. Even out here she was cautious. He watched as she put the wig back on, then the glasses, and checked her appearance once more in the rear view mirror.
He followed leisurely as she pulled away. There was no rush to keep her in sight this time. He listened to the radio and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He knew where she was headed. Back to the gym to change out of her disguise and collect her car. Then home.
CHAPTER SIX
They met in a dark bar on the outskirts of Portland. It was the kind of place no respectable person would go into. Frequented by alcoholics, loners, or those unlucky enough to live in the neighbourhood with no place else to go. As he pulled up outside, Crane saw a slim, nervous-looking guy in a cheap suit standing beside a black SUV smoking a cigarette and peering around like he expected an army of vigilantes to jump out of a side street at any minute. It had to be Kaz’s car. No one else around these parts could afford a vehicle like that. If his client was trying to be inconspicuous, it wasn’t working. The windows were blacked out so he couldn’t tell if there was anyone else in the car or not.
Crane walked into the bar and cast his eyes around. Always observing. There was a group of men in the corner playing cards and drinking bourbon, a half-empty bottle on the table. They didn’t look up when he entered. Not a threat. A middle-aged drunk sat slumped at the bar counter, staring into his empty glass. Crane let his eyes get used to the dimness. A man at the back raised his hand. Crane nodded.
Kaz. He was alone.
Crane made his way over to the table and sat down. Kaz hadn’t ordered a drink, in fact, he looked decidedly uncomfortable, like he didn’t want to be there. Crane didn’t blame him. The place was a shithole, which was precisely why he’d chosen it. No one would know them here.
“You have something for me?” Gone were the pleasantries of the their last meeting. Now it was all business.
Crane nodded. “Yeah. I followed her out to Astoria. She met a man there. Fifties. Average height. Balding.”
Kaz’s eyes narrowed, but his expression remained neutral. “Who?”
“The house is registered to a Mr. R. Copeland. That name mean anything to you?”
Kaz shook his head.
“She wasn’t there long. An hour maybe.”
He knew what Kaz was thinking. The same thing he had. It was long enough.
“Anything else?”
Crane shook his head. “No. After that she went home.”
He left out the part about the gym, and how she’d tricked him with her disguise. She’d done exactly what he’d expected, and gone back to the gym to drop off the rental car and pick up her own. He’d waited on the slip road outside and picked up her trail once she was back in her Merc and on her way home. He didn’t know why he didn’t mention it. Call it instinct. Or maybe it was pride. Either way, he wanted to keep that fact to himself for a while. Why would Sarah feel the need to disguise herself before she went to see Mr. R. Copeland? Why the elaborate car change? Did she suspect her husband was having her followed? He still wasn’t convinced this was an affair. Again, no reason other than his gut feeling, but something didn’t add up.
Kaz stood up and held out his hand. “Thanks. Good jo
b.”
Crane shook it. He felt dirty. This kind of surveillance wasn’t his thing, especially not when it involved someone’s wife. Sarah was pretty. Hell, let’s be honest here, she was a stunner, and she looked like a decent person. He considered himself a pretty good judge of character. So why would a woman like that be banging a middle aged guy in Astoria with a receding hairline? It didn’t make sense. A millionaire businessman maybe, or a politician…but that guy?
Nah. He didn’t buy it.
He didn’t especially like Kaz, either. Perhaps that was a harsh thing to say given the man had saved his life, however, if he dug a little, Crane was sure he’d find Kaz Erkel had his manicured fingers in a lot of very suspicious pies. Which is why he wasn’t going to dig. He didn’t want to know. The sooner this job was over and he could get back to normal the better. Doug would be happy too. His FBI-buddy had left a message on his cell phone only that morning asking how the job was coming on. Crane had read between the lines. What Doug meant was, I need you. And to be honest, there were bigger fish to fry than some guy’s wife who may or may not be having an affair.
“Do you want me to carry on, you know, watching her?” Hopefully Kaz would say no, that he had what he wanted. A name. Confirmation of who she was seeing.
Kaz gave him a hard look. “A few more days.”
Crane nodded and kept his expression neutral. Doug would have to wait a little longer.
“Let me know if you find anything else,” Kaz said, and left the bar.
Crane got up and walked to the dirty windows. He studied the businessman, through the greasy smudges, as he walked towards the SUV. A confident walk, shoulders back, like he was always in control.
The driver was now presumably at the wheel. A beefy guy, tall - about six foot four - dressed in a ill-fitting suit, got out of the back and opened the door for his boss. Kaz got in. The tall guy shut the door, glanced up and down the street, then walked round to the other side of the vehicle and climbed back in. The SUV pulled out into the traffic. Crane watched until it disappeared around a corner.
Security? Protection? The beefy guy had been packing, that’s for sure. He also didn’t look American. Eastern European maybe? Arabic? Definitely hired muscle. But for what? The bad feeling Crane had when he’d accepted the case just got worse.
Sarah knew there was something wrong the minute she walked into the house. Aneez, her husband’s sinister right-hand-man stood in the marbled entrance hall, waiting for her. He gave her the creeps. In his bulky suit, with that self-satisfied smirk on his face and his greased back hair, he reminded her of a fat crocodile lurking in the shallows waiting for its prey. Why did she get the feeling she was it?
He inclined his head. “Good day, Mrs. Erkel. Your husband would like to see you in his study, right away.”
That’s why. She’d been summoned, just like that. Her heart dropped. What did Kaz want with her? He couldn’t possibly know where she’d been, could he?
Her face betrayed none of her concern. “Thank you, Aneez.” She walked past him, conscious of his eyes on her, across the hall and down the corridor to her husband’s study, her sneakers squeaking on the bare tiles.
She tentatively knocked on the door. Kaz insisted upon it. Once she’d forgotten and barged in to tell him something and… well, let’s just say she wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“Come,” he called.
She opened the door and went in. He was standing up behind his desk, a massive mahogany monstrosity similar to what one would expect to find in the Oval Office. Perhaps that was how he saw himself, President of his domain. She wouldn’t be at all surprised. His ego was second to none.
“You asked to see me?” She positioned herself close to the door, but didn’t shut it after her. This wouldn’t be a long visit.
“Come here,” he beckoned, coming round the desk to stand in front of her. She hesitated. Something in his voice… She took a nervous step forward.
He lifted his hand as if to stroke her cheek, his eyes burned into her. Sarah recoiled. Please don’t let him want to have sex now. She really didn’t feel like it. Not after the emotional day she’d had. After Rick’s, she’d come home, gone for a run to clear her head, then gone to the store to get some groceries. Maria was bringing them in from the car now. All she wanted to do was flop down in front of the TV with a glass of wine and forget all about her pathetic existence.
“I heard you had a little outing today,” he began, his voice steady. Sarah went cold. Icicles clutched at her heart. It was not sex on his mind. It was far, far worse.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she stammered. “I was at the gym.”
He looked disappointed. “Please don’t lie to me. I know where you’ve been, Sarah. I always know.”
How? She’d been so careful.
He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, his touch deceptively gentle. He shook his head, the tone of his voice like he was addressing a child. “We’ve been through this before. You know the consequences of breaking our agreement.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
Without warning, he whipped his hand back and slapped her hard across the face. She flew backwards into the wall.
“How could you do this, Sarah? I thought we agreed you’d never go there again. After what happened last time, I thought you’d know what’s at stake?”
“I went to offer my condolences because I didn’t go to the funeral. It’s been six months since Chris...” she petered off, unable to say his name in front of her husband like his mere presence would sully it somehow. Her legs gave way and she sank down onto the floor. Her face was burning. She knew better than to cry as that only fuelled his rage, so she held it in and tried to steady her breathing. In a more reasonable tone, she added, “It was the right thing to do.”
Her husband gave her a hard look. “This better be the last time. Have I made myself clear?”
She nodded. “It is. I swear. It’s over now.”
“Get up.” It was an order.
Sarah got to her feet, the room swam. Her head was fuzzy from the blow. She reached behind her and held a hand against the smooth, cool wall, grateful for its support.
His cold face was unemotional, his voice remained even, it was just his eyes that blazed with undisguised fury. “Now leave me alone.”
Sarah turned and stumbled out of his study. Kaz closed the door behind her with a soft click. Even that motion was measured, controlled. There was never any slamming or raised voices, but somehow the quiet, white-hot rage was even worse.
She closed her eyes and exhaled shakily. Damn, her cheek hurt. She knew from experience it would be bright red, then slowly turn blue before it faded to a murky yellow.
Kaz hadn’t hit her for a long time. It must be three or four years at least, but then he’d had no reason to. She’d been the perfect wife; entertaining his guests, keeping house, making herself available when he was in the mood - anything to keep the peace. That way she could almost get by.
How the hell had he found out? She’d taken such care to hide her tracks, even hiring the car and disguising herself. Bloody Aneez. The sneaky creep. It must have been him. Who else could it be? That’s probably why he’d been smirking earlier. He knew.
Her husband’s henchman was no longer in the hallway, having skulked off to another corner of the house. His bungalow, and those of the other staff members were situated on the far side of the lake, accessible by a footpath on the west side of the house. She ran upstairs to her bedroom. At least she had a separate bedroom to Kaz. His idea, not hers. If she had to lie next to him every night she’d probably have ended it all by now.
Then she thought of Ben. Darling Benjamin. No, she wouldn’t have.
For his sake she’d keep going. She’d stay strong. She had to. Her son was everything to her. One day, she promised herself. One day they’d be together again, without Kaz. She’d make sure of it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was a crisp autumn morning,
the kind that made one appreciate the changing of the seasons. The sky was cobalt blue, but the air was fresh with a definite chill. A sign winter was just around the corner.
Crane sat in his pickup, hidden away in a heavily forested off-road section and waited for Sarah’s Merc to appear. All around him trees were turning from green to ochre, and the off-road area where he waited was covered with fallen leaves churned up by the passing cars or billowy gusts of wind. He’d been there since seven, his flask of coffee nearly empty. It was an early start for a Saturday, but until he knew her habits, he had to be ready for all eventualities.
It was impossible to see the house from the road, thanks to the forest that surrounded the property. All he could see through the heavy iron gates was the gravel road which led to the house and part of a deep, wide lake. The gates were manned by an armed security guard who wasn’t even trying to disguise his weapon. It was a bit much for a businessman, even a security obsessed one, and that told Crane his client was up to no good. His business card said imports and exports, but that could mean just about anything these days. But he told himself it was none of his business. He was just there to do a job, and in a few more days it would be over.
At ten past eight he saw his target come down the driveway and stop at the security gates. The guard let her through. Crane hunkered down as she turned left onto the road headed into town, not that she’d notice his pickup anyway, it was so camouflaged by the trees.
Show time.
He pulled out of his hiding spot, wincing as a barrage of sticks and twigs scraped the undercarriage of his pick-up truck. There wasn’t much traffic, so he stayed well back. Even if she glanced in her review mirror, he was far enough away that she wouldn’t be able to discern his facial features. This time she didn’t turn off to the gym but stayed on interstate towards downtown Portland. She drove at a leisurely pace, keeping well within the speed limit. No disguise this time, so she wasn’t up to anything untoward. He sighed. He had a feeling this was going to be a waste of a day. The river was pumping and he wanted to get out there. Perhaps later, if she wasn’t gone for too long.
Undercurrent: A P.I. Munro Crane Romantic Suspense Thriller Page 5
