Dangerous Waters

by Toni Anderson

  Waves washed against the nearby beach—the sound so reminiscent of childhood, he choked. “You’re the one who wouldn’t let me visit you in prison. You’re the one who shut me out.” Finn stood, breathing hard. Thirty seconds of togetherness and they’d said everything that needed to be said.

  “I should’ve just let him hammer away at you, you runty little bastard.” The red glow settled malevolently back into the shadows.

  “Maybe you should have.” He wasn’t a runty little bastard anymore.

  “Get lost. I don’t want you here. I haven’t seen you for half a goddamned lifetime and you turn up like the prodigal son? Get off my fucking land.”

  Brent had made it more than clear over the years he wanted nothing to do with him, but he wasn’t running away this time. “Our land,” Finn reminded him grimly. Not that he wanted it. Brent had earned that and more over the years. “I didn’t come here to fight. I am sorry for screwing up your life.”

  There was a long, taut silence as shared memories connected them. They didn’t need to say the words; they’d lived through good and bad times by relying on each other. Then Finn had let them both down.

  “You had that asshole professor looking out for you. It worked out all right for you in the end.” Brent sounded snide and bitter, just like their old man. His resentment toward Thom had been palpable from the start, and Finn didn’t know if it was because Thom had given him the life they’d both craved or if Brent just didn’t like the man.

  “He taught me how to read.” Dyslexia had made him an easy target for bullies at school. Brent had tried to help but hadn’t been much better at reading himself. Finn doubted that had improved in prison.

  “And I killed for you. You’re a hell of a lucky guy.”

  “Lucky?” His voice cracked and an old embarrassment welled up inside him.

  Emotion finally penetrated his brother’s ex-con hide, and Brent let out a deep breath. “You were just a kid. I didn’t want you coming to the prison and seeing that…filth, that ugliness. And by the time I got out, you’d joined the army. And after you came home…” His brother swallowed audibly. “I’m not good to be around, Finn.”

  Finn took a step forward.

  “Come any closer and I’ll blow your head off.”

  Finn’s night vision had kicked in, and the moon had risen over the water. His brother’s face was lined with age and experience. Lean and mean. Beloved and familiar.

  “You wouldn’t shoot me.”

  A bullet scored the earth to his right.

  “I’m not the same stupid asshole who protected you from that fucker. I don’t want you here.” It was the desperation rather than the anger that had Finn backing down.

  Finn swallowed the razor blades that lodged in his throat. “I don’t need protecting. Not anymore.”

  The harsh breathing eased. “Good.” The cigarette bobbed as he nodded and exhaled. “Good.”

  “I found a dead guy in a wreck at Crow Point last night.”

  Brent sneered out a laugh. “Should’ve known.”

  “Known what?”

  “That you’d only come here because you wanted something.”

  “You just shot at me, which was exactly the welcome I was expecting. You know anything about that dead body or not?” Brent had connections in low places and, according to Gina, had received enough death threats over the years to pay attention to everything that went down on this part of the island, criminal or legit.

  “I haven’t killed anyone recently, if that’s what you’re asking.” There was a feral flash of teeth. “I did get a phone call a couple of days ago asking if a guy called Len Milbank had been over to see me.”

  Shit. Finn didn’t like the direction this was going. “And?”

  His brother’s eyes were hooded. “You know who he works for?”

  Finn nodded. Len Milbank was an enforcer for Remy Dryzek, a scumbag who ran drugs and drink and anything else that paid, out of Port Alberni. Milbank was also Finn’s best candidate for the person who’d beaten Thom to a pulp two years ago.

  “I haven’t seen the bastard in months. Last time Len visited, I broke his arm.”

  “Social call?”

  Brent’s lips curled up in a half smile. “Well, it wasn’t tea and biscuits.” His expression turned flat.

  “You hear anything about a shipwreck out on Crow Point?”

  “I haven’t heard anything about nothing.”

  And wouldn’t say if he had. Finn looked at the moon and remembered staring at it as a child. That huge silver orb that hung over the midnight sea. He’d often thought about walking into that ocean when he’d been a scared little boy. Brent had saved him. No one had saved Brent.

  “The cops are in town asking questions.”

  Brent grunted.

  “I gotta go.” He turned away.

  “Finn.”

  He hesitated and looked over his shoulder.

  “It was good to see you.” His brother’s face softened for a moment. “Don’t come back.”

  “What’ve we got so far?” asked Staff Sgt. Jimmy Furlong.

  Full of nervous energy, Holly paced the floor. They’d set up shop in the local hotel on the west side of the inlet. It wasn’t open for the season, but somehow Furlong had persuaded the proprietor to put them up. Easy money because they’d barely see their beds.

  “The body has been transported back to Vancouver for autopsy. Coroner figures the TOD is at least four or five days, but he hasn’t given us anything conclusive yet, except that the victim was a mature male Caucasian,” she told the officers clustered around the makeshift conference table.

  “All those years of medical school weren’t wasted, then?” Freddy Chastain quipped.

  Furlong laughed.

  “Corporal Billings accompanied the body to Vancouver and should be back by lunchtime tomorrow,” said Holly. “A professor I know from SFU is going to observe the autopsy in the hopes she can help him identify marks caused by invertebrate predation.” Various faces were pulled.

  “Evidence?”

  “A weight belt was recovered from the floor of the shipwreck. Murder weapon we assume is the knife still protruding from his chest. Wet suit, knife, and vic’s body are the only evidence we have so far.”

  “Witness statements?” Furlong pressed.

  “I’ve interviewed the two divers who found the body. Shipped their equipment for a once-over by IFIS in Port Alberni. Professor Thom Edgefield is the director of the Bamfield Marine Science Center; he’s a leading figure in his field. The other guy, Finn Carver, is an ex-Special Forces soldier who is now the dive master for the marine lab. They say they came across the wreck ten days ago when they were looking into an otter sighting. Edgefield claims to have discovered a new species of sea slug while they were down there and that’s why they wanted to keep the site quiet.”

  “You’re kidding me.” Furlong shook his head. “I thought I’d heard it all.”

  “You believe them?” Jeff Winslow asked.

  “It’s a pretty convoluted lie to construct—he even showed me the aquarium he’s set up for the creatures.” She shrugged. “But, like all witnesses, I don’t think they’re telling me everything. The professor is an odd character.” She didn’t want to analyze Finn Carver too much. She didn’t like being attracted to someone involved in an investigation.

  “Professor Edgefield is the guy whose wife was murdered?” This from Corporal Messenger, who kept flashing Furlong idolized glances from beneath her lashes. Holly gritted her teeth.

  “Yeah.” She forced a smile. “He freaked me out because he thinks I look just like her.”

  “Really?” Furlong’s eyes gleamed with interest.

  “You do look like her—more than a little.” Corporal Messenger was turning out to be an encyclopedia of knowledge on that particular case. She pulled up an old photo online and Holly blinked. It was like staring in a mirror, except Bianca Edgefield had brown eyes. They even wore their hair the same way.
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  “Wow.” Jeff Winslow shot glances back and forth.

  “He must have had heart failure,” Chastain said seriously. “You’re like her twin.”

  Holly felt a little embarrassed at being the center of attention. She knew who her family was and where she came from, but she tried not to remind everyone of it in case they thought she was getting special treatment. “Well, he did faint,” she admitted.

  “Dammit,” Furlong swore and rose to his feet. “Did a doctor check him out before you interviewed him?” He was thinking about the big picture of an investigation—which made him a good administrator. But she didn’t like being treated like a rookie.

  “He did, and Edgefield was quite happy to talk on tape and show me his prized sea slug collection too.”

  Furlong grunted. “I want thorough background checks on both of them. Any other interviews turn up anything? Any missing person reports that might fit?”

  “Nothing. But I started compiling a list of people who currently reside in the town,” Jeff offered. There were a lot of holiday homes in the area. A lot of empty properties. Fewer suspects, assuming it was a local who’d killed the guy.

  Holly pulled up a map of the area. “The land around the cove is heavily wooded. There’s no road. This guy had to have traveled there by boat. What are the odds he just stumbled upon that shipwreck only days after Edgefield and Carver? He had to have heard about it from someone.”

  “Maybe there was treasure down there…real treasure, gold and silver,” Chastain suggested. “And someone decided they didn’t want to share.”

  Holly glanced at her watch. The first twenty-four hours of a murder investigation were crucial, and they were already well behind the curve ball. A headache ground at her temples. “Chastain, talk to the Coast Guard and see if you can figure out what that wreck is and what she might have been carrying. There’re more doors to knock on in the morning—that’s going to be Malone and Messenger’s job.”

  Malone nodded. He was closemouthed and intense, but she’d heard good things about him.

  “Jeff can keep the data compiled and talk to the local cops about any known criminal activity in the area.”

  “What are we going to do, Sergeant Rudd?” Furlong asked.

  She hoped to hell he was leaving. “Until we get a hit on the vic’s ID, I’m going to keep interviewing the locals. See what I can shake out of the tree.”

  “I’m heading back to base in the morning,” Furlong said. Yippee. She kept her face straight. “I want progress reports every couple of hours. And immediate updates on any serious breaks in the case.” He had to report to senior management, including her father. The thought made the headache pound harder. “I want this case solved and off the books ASAP. Understood?” He was staring at her, and she stood to attention.

  “Yes, sir,” she clipped out, feeling shame wedge under her skin. She’d slept with this guy, and while they hadn’t been working together then, they were working together now. She hated making mistakes and detested errors in judgment.

  “Good.” He checked his Rolex. “Might be an idea to get a couple of hours’ rest—see if the pathologist can come up with an ID to help us in the meantime.”

  Holly nodded and watched her team murmur and gather their stuff and head up the broad staircase. She was intensely aware of Jimmy Furlong watching her from the corner of his eye. The thought of him making a pass at her made her stomach twist. She hurried to her sparsely furnished room and quickly got changed. No way in hell was she going to rest. She slipped out the front door and headed down to the dock.

  Ten minutes later, Holly walked into the local bar and snagged an empty stool. The place was rough as shark skin. Dark, dingy, the faint whiff of weed hanging in the air. Enough faded denim and scuffed leather to start a Hells Angels clubhouse.

  “What’ll you have?” the barkeep asked.

  “Bud Light.”

  He passed her the open bottle, and she paid him, told him to keep the change. She kept trying to catch his eye, but he seemed determined not to chat. She sipped her beer, trying to blend in and absorb the conversation.

  “You new around here?” A dark-eyed, dark-haired guy in his late twenties, worn jeans, red plaid shirt, squeezed between her and the next stool and ordered two beers. He smelled of expensive aftershave even though there was a shadow of a beard on his jaw.

  A ladies’ man.

  “It’s my first time in O’Malley’s.” Holly gave him her friendliest smile. She didn’t know how old she’d been when she’d figured out her smile was her greatest asset, but it had been before kindergarten.

  His eyes lit up. “Studying at the marine lab?”

  “I’m learning to dive.” That wasn’t a lie, and officially she was still on vacation. “Are you from around here?” she asked.

  A dimple appeared in that shadowed jaw. “Born and bred in this little town.” His mouth tightened slightly. “Although to be honest, I can’t wait to get out of here.” He paid the barkeep and lifted two bottles off the bar.

  “What’s stopping you?”

  “Too many responsibilities.” He took a long swallow of beer, stuffed the other bottle under his arm, and reached out a hand to introduce himself. “Mike.”

  “Holly.” She slipped her fingers into his grip, cold and damp from the beer bottle. “So do you dive?”

  “Sometimes.” Mike shrugged and grinned, knowing exactly how handsome he was. “But I usually wait for the water to warm up.”

  “Know any good wrecks in the area?”

  Despite her smile, his eyes changed and he looked at her differently. Backed away almost imperceptibly. “That’s not really my thing.”

  She felt a presence beside her and recognized a familiar deep voice. “I see you’ve met Sergeant Rudd. I’ve been driving myself crazy wondering what she looks like in her red dress uniform.”

  Her new friend reared back as if she was a rattlesnake. “Seriously? You’re a cop?”

  “You wanna shout that louder, because I don’t think they heard you over by the jukebox.” Pissed, she swung around on the stool, bumped her knees into the very solid thighs of Finn Carver. She didn’t know how long he’d been there or how he’d snuck up on her so easily. She’d hoped she’d seen the last of him for the evening. He unsettled her in ways that had nothing to do with the investigation.

  “Catch you later.” The guy escaped back to his table.

  Why had Carver sabotaged her little info gathering endeavor? She tilted her head and turned her attention to the man at her side. “I was hoping for a little time off, but I’m doomed not to get it.”

  “Sure you were.” Blue eyes rolled, but there was humor in them.

  “Maybe I’ll interrogate you instead.” She took a drink of her beer. “Or did they teach you how to resist my methods in Special Forces?”

  “Pretty sure beautiful women have always been the downfall of weak, feeble men.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Nice deflection, slick.”

  He tipped his beer. “I aim to please.”

  I just bet you do.

  He smiled, and she struggled not to stare at the full mouth or vivid blue eyes fringed with the sort of lashes women tortured themselves to emulate. She shifted away from him. Wished she was indifferent.

  “You said your dad was a cop too?” Finn asked.

  “Family tradition.” Holly shook her head. “He’s almost sixty and he just learned to dive with me.”

  “You’re never too old to take up diving.”

  “When did you learn?”

  A crease in his cheek told her he knew she’d switched the conversation back to him again, but he didn’t clam up. “Thom taught me when I went to live with him. Spent a lot of time drilling safety procedures into my young head and now has to suffer the consequences.”

  “It must have been hard, losing your family like that, moving in with a stranger.”

  His gaze locked on hers, and her breathing suddenly felt shallow and tight as warmth ro
se up to engulf her. His eyes were intense against lightly tanned skin, blond hair ruffled into untidy spikes that made her think of tangled sheets and bedrooms.

  She could feel the flush creeping into her cheeks.

  His lips twitched then settled into somber. “You really do look like her, you know.”

  “Yeah.” She wiped her palms down the front of her jeans. “I know.”

  “And you’re not even remotely curious?”

  “About what?” Holly twisted to look up at him. At five feet ten inches she didn’t usually have to look up at anyone. He was closer than anticipated, and although he didn’t smell of expensive cologne, he did smell like hot, clean male with a tang of the ocean. She’d always loved the ocean.

  “About whether you’re Thom Edgefield’s missing daughter?”

  A flash of something hot surged through her. “I know who I am, and I’m not adopted.”

  Two men came through the door as the guy she’d met, Mike, and another man headed out. One of them grabbed Mike by the arm and whispered heatedly in his ear. She thought there was going to be a bit of a scuffle, but Mike nodded and left.

  Finn put his hand on her elbow and drew her attention back to him. She liked his touch a little too much, so she shook him off.

  “You were looking for local color. Now you found it.”

  Trouble.

  The new arrivals changed the atmosphere of the whole place. They wore black roll-neck sweaters and expensive-looking leather jackets. Both carried concealed weapons, and Holly would bet a month’s salary neither had a license, but she was after a murderer and the minor stuff could wait—for now. They stood beside a table full of people, who quickly gathered their stuff to leave. One guy didn’t move fast enough and earned a little push to speed him on his way.

  “Nice.” Holly leaned back against the bar.

  The barkeep walked quickly over to the table. She twisted around to look at Finn. He sat on his stool, the expression on his face so impassive she knew it was an act.