Red Tide

by Peg Brantley

  Her legs and arms began to tingle, almost burn. Then she was on the ground next to Brian, trying to reach for his hand before she realized they were still holding hands. He pulled her toward him in an embrace. Her face wet with tears. Hers and Brian’s.

  Loud, steady buzzing made her look up. The plane seemed to hover over them, and she thought she saw a camera lens mounted on the belly. How strange.

  Corrine’s chest tightened as she and Brian looked into each other’s eyes.

  The air had been sucked out of the universe by a toy.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Yes, this is Nicholas Grant.” Nick pulled off his Sorrell boots, phone clamped to his ear by his shoulder. At five grand a pair, they weren’t the most expensive western boots on the planet, but they were expensive enough to be comfortable except when he wanted his slippers. And he really, really wanted his slippers.

  “Yes, I used to be married to Sandra Bellamy.” What’s going on here? “Who did you say is calling?” Nick sat back in the chair, his stocking feet forgotten. What new trick is Sandra pulling? “Look, my schedule is full. Sandra and I were divorced eight years ago. Just because she’s retained some new lawyers doesn’t alter the fact that we both finished that chapter in our lives with, I’m sure you’re aware, a binding agreement.”

  That time represented some of the worst months of his life. Whirlwind romances could affect men as much as women, and his and Sandra’s courtship definitely fell into the whirlwind category. At first it was magical. Sandra had come across warm and compassionate. Her beauty stunned him every time he looked at her, and Nick felt it reached inside as well as outside. But not long after the exchange of their vows, her façade began to slip.

  Sandra’s definition of a partnership involved a spending partner and an earning partner. She could spend with the best of them. During their dating days, she told him his deep bank accounts didn’t matter. He believed her. He believed his character and charm and sense of humor and honor would rise above his net worth. He had been naïve.

  When she found out he could, and would, put the brakes on her shopping sprees, Nick became a piece of lead in her life that grew heavier by the minute. She tried manipulating him sexually until she figured out he thought of sex as an intimate connection, as making love. When she tried to turn it into a bargaining chip, he moved to the sidelines until he could figure out a way to end the game.

  “Our divorce settlement can’t be breached. What? Yes, I know the premise presupposed a childless marriage.” Had there been a child, Nick would have fought for sole custody, and he’d have won. He’d held out hope until the final day, but by the end of their union, Sandra had managed to demonstrate complete disregard for anything bordering on commitment. And since there had been no child, end of story.

  Nick leaned forward, his head in his free hand. “Sandra is dead?” They’d been divorced eight years, but he remembered the way she had looked the last time he’d seen her. “How did she die? And exactly why are you calling to tell me?”

  The man on the other end of the line said something about cancer, Nick’s legal rights, Colorado Child Protective Services, and his daughter.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Nick didn’t sleep well. Wild attack dogs came after him in his dreams, then left him to go after the defenseless baby he tripped over in a mountain meadow full of gravesites. The nightmare jerked him awake a little after two in the morning. He threw the covers off and walked to his library. A few chapters of a new novel would be just the thing to calm his mind and settle his nerves. He needed rest to be able to focus on the new case he’d been thrust into. And to try to figure out what he should do about the latest development that threatened to completely alter his life. Latest development? Threaten?

  He supposedly had a daughter. He would have some tests done to confirm the biological link, but in his heart he already knew. She was almost eight years old, living in Alexandria, Virginia, the town he’d lived in with Sandra. A little girl, with a personality and a past and a name: Kylie.

  He tried the name out. “Kylie. Kylie Grant.”

  “What do you know about me, Kylie? What have you been told?” Nick pulled a book off of a shelf without even looking at it. “What the hell am I going to do with you?”

  After receiving the phone call, he’d contacted his personal attorney to verify the information. Even given the hour, Paul had called back in forty-five minutes. The caller was legit, not some scam artist who knew a few facts, including the important one that Nicholas Grant possessed a few hundred million dollars. It wasn’t someone hoping to make a score.

  Nick called United and booked a seven-thirty a.m. flight to O’Hare since there were no direct flights from Aspen to DC. From there, he’d fly to Reagan International and meet with the attorneys handling Sandra’s estate that afternoon.

  He also called his SAC in Denver and told him he needed forty-eight hours, but would stay in contact. He didn’t mention he might be bringing a daughter home with him.

  A text message to Felicity and Jerome to alert them that they needed to plan on the possibility of a new member of the household brought an immediate call from Felicity. Before the woman could start to plan a wedding ceremony, he informed her the subject was an eight-year-old girl, that nothing was certain, and that he had no intention of going into any details with her at this hour.

  Before settling into a chair to read—or pretend to read—Nick walked over to the wet bar and filled a glass with water. A full prescription bottle of oxy sat on the inlaid countertop. He shook out a few of the pills and started to throw them into his open mouth. As they were about to leave his palm, he made a fist and opened his hand. Five pills. He reached for the bottle and scooped three of the little green pills stamped with 80 back inside the amber chamber. He would cut back, beginning now.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Jamie looked for a sign confirming that her dad might still be around Aspen Falls as she drove to work that morning. Not surprisingly, she didn’t see a thing. When he didn’t want people to know of his presence, they didn’t. A security expert who had worked all over the world, Bryce Taylor didn’t make mistakes. He had wanted Jamie to see him in the darkness the other night, to let her know he was close, to protect her if necessary. And maybe to let her know he was close to finding her mom’s murderer.

  The thought, yet again, of her mom’s death made Jamie draw into herself. For anyone, especially someone she loved, to have been buried alive just to prove a point made her furious. She understood her dad’s motive. Her mom’s death and the manner of it also had been a major factor in her doing what she did.

  At the same time, her dad’s focus, his commitment and passion—his obsession—meant she’d lost both parents ten years ago, not just one.

  As she was about to enter that wallowing stage that she hated, her phone rang. She appreciated the diversion.

  “It’s Ellen. I think I’m in love.”

  Jamie smiled.

  Ellen raced ahead, almost tripping over her own words. “Is it too soon for me to be in love? Should I slow this down? I don’t want to slow this down. Don’t you just love him?”

  FBI Agent Arnold Abner and Ellen had been as tight as fresh paint on a wall since the morning they’d met at the drugstore. Ellen had sprung open like some rare flower. If Arnold Abner made that happen, then yeah, I love the guy.

  Ellen’s emotional rush continued for a bit, and the call ended with a promise they’d all get together soon.

  Jamie pulled herself back to the task at hand. The Corbett loan, which was almost ready to be underwritten, was on her desk. She had to make sure all of the necessary information had been obtained to facilitate approval. Most of her applicants these days had a dicey thing or two in either their credit or employment history or both to deal with. She made sure any issues were addressed and answered in a way that would be satisfactory to the loan committee. She had grown comfortable living in that strange position where she had to advocate for
the borrower while preserving the lending integrity of the bank.

  At the bank, after reviewing the Corbett file and writing her own cover letter explaining the pros and cons—heavy on the pros—promoting loan approval, Jamie looked at her own list of potential economic disasters. All were related to her home.

  Her insurance company had shown themselves to be an upstanding partner in the repairs she needed to make to the entry wrecked by the hero of the hour, Teague Blanton. She couldn’t help but feel her claim might have been received in a more positive light by the insurance company because of her referrals to them over the years through the bank. Still, she was tremendously relieved to know the expenses would be covered, at least partially.

  Too bad she couldn’t expect to have help meeting all of the other expenses required to simply maintain her home, let alone bring it up to its full potential. One thing at a time.

  The mist of her thoughts parted, and Gabe Ahrens, her boss, appeared in one of the chairs in front of her desk. His appearance both startled her and left her a little alarmed. Gabe usually summoned. He didn’t appear.

  “How’s everything going, Jamie? Are you happy?”

  What in the world? She looked at him, totally uncomfortable with the dynamics. “Everything is fine, Gabe. You?”

  “I’m thinking ahead, Jamie... thinking ahead. I’m wondering whether you might be part of how I envision my future.”

  She stared at him, unable to find any words or grasp the gist of the conversation. She was a little afraid to try.

  “I want to send you to a special training course, Jamie. One that will give you the skills you need to become my second in command here at the bank. I need a successor if I want to move up, and I think you’re that person.”

  “Gabe, I—”

  “No need to thank me, Jamie. Of course, you understand it will require more of your time. You’ll need to not only prove your dedication, but show your willingness to pay your dues. One day, you’ll be able to run this branch on your own.”

  “I’m not sure about this, Gabe.” Then she looked at her boss’s earnest face and relented. “I mean, I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

  Gabe smiled the smile of someone who had just bestowed a magnificent gift on an undeserving—or maybe unsuspecting—subject. “Don’t worry about anything. I think you’re ready. The future is yours, Jamie. You just need to decide you’re ready to meet it.”

  He pushed the front legs of his chair off the ground. “And just so you know where your bread is buttered, you know that twenty-thousand dollar line of credit we shelved a few months ago? The one you wanted to use to make some repairs and improvements to your home?”

  Of course she remembered it. She’d felt about as tall and as welcome as a stink bug when she’d been told the bank didn’t see extending her credit an appropriate use of their funds at that time.

  “Well, it’s been approved. You can access those funds as necessary. And you’ll find the interest and repayment terms are better than the going rate. Oh, and of course there will be a substantial raise in pay as well.”

  Jamie felt the strands of a spider’s web wrapping around her. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” She couldn’t look him in the eye, and that bugged her. She forced her gaze to meet his.

  “Just see that you don’t let the bank down.” Gabe settled his chair back on the floor and leaned toward her desk. “Or me.” He rose and walked a few steps away before he turned. “I’m counting on you, Jamie.”

  Jamie knew she should be flattered. The bank wanted to promote her. If she chose, she could make this career her life. One day, she could manage this branch and then potentially move on to bigger and better things. But rather than a rosy future spread out before her, Jamie saw a trap. They were dangling just enough money to keep her interested. But the money would be good. She could make repairs to her house, buy a new car, take some really great vacations. She could donate as much money as she wanted to Search and Rescue.

  On the other hand, she’d have to completely give up her work with her dogs. All of them. No more searching for missing hikers or providing closure to families of loved ones who had died. Even McKenzie’s visits to hospitals and hospices and homebound people would have to stop. That part of her life would be over. She would have to be happy fixing the house, cooking for people she loved, and working at the bank. Two out of three’s not bad, right?

  She shook her head. I’ll thank Gabe and the board for this opportunity, but no way can I give up—

  Her phone rang. “Jamie Taylor.”

  Jax sounded tired. Defeated. “Hey, it’s me.”

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine... no, that’s a lie.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I need to talk to you about a loan. Business.”

  “Okay. That’s what banks are for. What do you need?” Phil and Jackie’s house was mortgaged to the hilt. Jamie had laid her job on the line for them to get the third mortgage last year. And although real estate in the area had held its own even through the tough times, they didn’t have much equity left to play with. She must need a short-term signature loan. I can probably authorize as much as a thousand.

  “Due to some unforeseen expenses, Phil and I... we thought eight hundred would be enough to get us through the next thirty days, but we’ve just discovered we need fifteen to meet our obligations.”

  “Fifteen hundred?” She could probably stretch it that far, even if she had to add a couple hundred from her savings account.

  Jax sighed. “No. Fifteen thousand.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Jax had just asked her sister for a loan of fifteen thousand dollars through the bank. She closed her eyes. Fifteen thousand. Fifteen lousy little thousand. It wouldn’t even come close to what they needed. It’ll just buy us some time... maybe. But she couldn’t come that clean with her sister. Not yet.

  To Jamie’s credit, she didn’t choke when she heard the amount. “I’ll see what I can pull together and get back to you.”

  Jax poured another cup of coffee. She’d worked in the lab until three o’clock this morning and had been about to go back to work when Phil mentioned that things were “a little worse” than he’d said before. A little worse? Y’think? Then he’d promptly left for the car lot, mumbling something about an early meeting.

  The phone rang. Jamie, so fast?

  She answered.

  An electronically modified voice wormed into her ear. “Don’t hang up. You want to hear this.” She readied her finger to disconnect.

  “Dr. Taylor, are you listening?”

  Jax moved her finger off the button. “Who is this?”

  “I need you to do something for which you will be paid handsomely.”

  “Who are you? Why are you calling me?”

  “Dr. Taylor, I will not now, or ever, answer any of your questions.” The flat, metallic voice clawed into her brain. “I am, however, prepared to pay you two hundred thousand dollars to delay the toxicology tests on the newer corpses in your lab.”

  Jax sucked in a breath. Her mind filled with possibilities. The killer, or someone working for the killer, knew of their find, and believed the toxicology report would show cause of death. But the tissue samples, even on the most current bodies, were decomposed enough that they might not have answers. Are there more bodies? Could the killer be a medical professional? How did he get my name and number this fast?

  “Two hundred thousand dollars, Doctor, in cash. We never meet. All you have to do is delay requesting the tests for a few days, or delay reviewing the reports. I’m not asking you to falsify the data in any way. You will be paid well for a few days of not doing one little thing.”

  Two hundred thousand dollars. I could pay off the goons who are after Phil and put some money back in my retirement account. No. What am I thinking? “Why are you calling me?” Another question, and she already knew the answer. She controlled the lab and she needed money. Apparently there were even fewer secrets in the sma
ll town than she’d thought.

  “I’ll be watching, Dr. Taylor. I’ll know your decision. And Dr. Taylor? You would be wise to decide in the affirmative and take the financial advantage. To decline would not be healthy.”

  The call ended abruptly and Jax began to tremble, which soon gave way to hot tears of anger. Phil’s behavior had placed them—placed her—in this horrible position. If not for his actions, she would not have been targeted as someone who could be tempted. Why in the world do I stay with a man who only uses me?

  She walked down the hallway toward the master suite and paused in the doorway of a smaller room next to it. Soft light from the windows created a peaceful setting for the rocker, crib and layette arranged with love and care and dreams.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Nick watched wipers push the rain away on the limo’s windshield. They hadn’t moved more than a block in the last five minutes. He looked at the stalled traffic on either side of the vehicle, then at this watch. He lowered the privacy window. “Look, do you know a different route? One where we can actually make some progress?”

  “The whole area is like this, Sir. D.C. is shorthand for gridlock.”

  Nick punched the button to close the window, then found the control for the air and turned the temperature down. Sweat was pouring from his body.

  He thought about the last several years—the cases he’d worked, the vacations he’d taken, the women he’d been with—and all that time, he’d had a daughter. Had she known she had a father out there somewhere? Did she wonder why he didn’t call or visit or even send her a birthday card? What the hell could Sandra have been thinking to do this to her own daughter?

  Nick’s knee began to bounce and he clamped a hand down on it. After an intense moment, the bouncing slowed and stopped. Things were getting to him.