Dangerous Waters

by Toni Anderson

  “Please, sit down.” The professor sat heavily in an armchair before a fire that burned in the hearth.

  She and Corporal Messenger both sat cautiously on the edge of a sofa.

  Furlong remained standing. “Why didn’t you mention the beating that happened two years ago?”

  Edgefield blinked like an owl behind wire-rimmed specs. “I didn’t mention the time I broke my ankle tripping over a pair of rubber boots either.” His voice sharpened. “Because I didn’t think it would be relevant.”

  “We decide what’s relevant, not you.” Furlong’s attitude was grim and threatening. He was playing bad cop but without any real direction. Holly believed in leaning on a suspect when the evidence backed them up, but it was dubious with a person this unstable.

  “Tell me what happened when you were attacked,” Furlong ordered.

  Edgefield leaned back in his chair. His skin had taken on a scarlet tinge. Embarrassment? Shame? High blood pressure?

  A voice startled them all.

  “He can’t tell you.” Finn Carver strode quickly into the room. “He doesn’t remember anything.” He’d stripped off the dry suit and pulled on jeans and a faded T-shirt that said TRUST NO ONE. “He walked down to the bar one night and someone beat the living shit out of him. He has no recollection of the event itself. The cops failed to collect evidence at the scene or in the hospital. No one was ever caught.”

  Finn was insinuating, not for the first time, the RCMP was incompetent. Holly bristled instinctively, and yet so far they had failed to do much for Thomas Edgefield.

  “Mr. Carver, you weren’t invited to this interview.” Furlong looked at him long and hard. “I suggest you leave.”

  Finn walked over to an easy chair and flopped into it. “You weren’t invited either, pal, so unless it’s a formal interview I’m staying. If it is formal then Thom isn’t saying another word until his lawyer arrives.”

  “Lawyer?” Thom blinked.

  “Is that right? Makes it look like he has something to hide.” Furlong moved toward Finn, trying to get into his head. If Finn lashed out in any way, Furlong would take him down. Holly couldn’t take her eyes off Finn’s expression. She willed him to keep his cool, but he wasn’t the slightest bit intimidated by the team commander. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and stretched out his feet.

  Steam practically hissed out of Furlong’s ears.

  “We’re trying to figure out if Professor Edgefield had any enemies,” Holly put in, trying to defuse the tension.

  “What difference does that make to your murder investigation?” Those eyes of Finn’s opened and raked her skin. “We all have enemies. We all have secrets, or haven’t you figured that out yet?” He climbed to his feet, eye-to-eye with Furlong as he delivered his coup d’état. “I bet even you and Sergeant Rudd have secrets.” Furlong opened his mouth and then shut it again. Fast.

  Finn’s lips curled up into a mean smile and, for a moment, she thought he was going to drive his fist through Furlong’s face. Holly wanted to curl up on the spot. Embarrassment made her cheeks burn. Finn had used that private information to rein in Furlong, and to her it felt like the ultimate betrayal. “Just because you have secrets doesn’t mean you’ve committed a crime, now does it?”

  Furlong shot her a look that promised retribution, and she set her teeth. She hadn’t betrayed a confidence, he had.

  She decided to do her job. “So you have no idea who beat you up?” she said to Edgefield.

  He shook his head. “Probably just as well because Finn would have torn them limb from limb.”

  “Thom,” Finn reprimanded him softly.

  Edgefield’s cheeks turned ruddy. “Sorry. I forget. I make these jokes and forget these people might actually believe me for once.” His face lost all expression. “All the times I’ve sent them positive proof people were lying about where they said they were when Bianca died and no one has ever done a damned thing.” He held her gaze and Holly had to look away.

  “I’m very sorry for your loss, Professor.” This from Cpl. Rachel Messenger who sat quietly beside her. The rookie. The most professional officer here. “I read about the case in school, and it’s one of the things that inspired me to join the police force.”

  Thomas blinked, clearly shocked. “Well,” he breathed out heavily. “Maybe you’ll catch some bad people and something positive will have come out of it in the end.” He rubbed the corner of his eye.

  “Jesus.” Furlong rolled his eyes and then leaned closer to Finn. “Watch who you’re threatening, sunshine.”

  Holly wanted to lambaste Furlong for how badly he’d handled this interview. But she couldn’t think of a single word that wouldn’t get her fired.

  “You need to leave.” Finn’s expression was unruffled, but Holly sensed an anger so deep she could almost feel it searing her skin. He held the door wide open. Holly paused for a moment as she passed him. She held his gaze and spotted the submerged glitter in his blue eyes—disappointment? It shouldn’t have stung quite as much as it did. She wanted to be pissed. She wanted to say she was sorry. Instead she nodded and turned away. Concentrated on the job she needed to do before she could get the hell out of this creepy little town.

  “Jesus, Thom, what the hell were you thinking, letting them in here like that?”

  “They didn’t exactly give me much choice.” Irritation laced Thom’s tone.

  “You’re the director of the marine laboratory. You always have a choice, don’t you forget that. Just because Holly looks like—”

  “Holly?”

  “What?” Finn asked, confused.

  “Yesterday it was Sergeant Rudd. Now you’re on first-name terms? When did that happen?”

  Finn stopped talking and regrouped. For all Thomas seemed out of it sometimes, he didn’t miss much. Finn had been furious when he’d overheard that asshole Furlong harassing him. He’d dealt with that sort of bully before, but physical violence wasn’t gonna work on a jerk with a badge. And he didn’t want to explore the unfamiliar feeling of jealousy that had taken root inside him because Holly had slept with the sonofabitch. She was gonna hate him for using that information, even though he’d been subtle.

  “Just because Sergeant Rudd looks like Bianca, don’t let it throw you off and make you say something stupid.”

  “But I didn’t kill that diver. How on earth can I incriminate myself by talking to them if I didn’t do it?”

  Finn checked his watch. He had five pupils down at the dock ready to do a dive off the pier. Shit. He didn’t have time to explain the twisted ways of the criminal justice system to a guy who already knew them inside out. “Just promise me next time the cops come calling you won’t say a word without Laura present.”

  “Laura?”

  “Laura Prescott,” Finn said impatiently. There was only one “Laura” in a fifty-mile radius.

  “Laura Prescott the potter?” Thomas’s voice was plaintive.

  He closed his eyes and counted to five. “She still has her legal license, and something tells me Byron Summers isn’t going to have much time for you after you suggested his daddy murdered your wife and child.” Finn stared hard at Thom. The man had alienated most of the town’s hundred and fifty inhabitants. “We’re a little short of options.”

  “But Laura Prescott…?”

  Finn tipped his head to one side to examine the man. “What the hell is wrong with Laura?”

  “Nothing.” Thom bristled, but Finn knew him well enough to know something wasn’t right. Thom drew in a big breath into that skinny chest, but the bravado popped as soon as he met Finn’s gaze. He swallowed and looked away. “I barely know the woman.”

  Then he got it. After all these years, Thomas had finally noticed another woman and it scared the crap out of him. Finn knew exactly how he felt.

  He headed to the phone and wrote a number on a pad of paper beside it. He also wrote it on another piece of paper and jammed it into the top pocket of Thom’s pj’s. “You can use this as a
way to break the ice.”

  Thom pulled the number out of his pocket and stared at it. “She’ll just think I’m crazy, the same way everyone thinks I’m crazy. How come you know her number?”

  Finn laughed. Thom was kind and patient and caring and loyal. He was also scalpel smart and clinically analytical. “You are crazy. You know I’ve always been good at memorizing numbers.”

  “Yeah, but how come you memorized hers?” Thom was beginning to sound a little pissed.

  Finn headed out the door to start work. “You’ll have to ask her, now won’t you?”

  Furlong gave a quick spiel before heading back to the mainland. Basically he told them to keep pressing Thomas Edgefield and Finn Carver about their alibis. He made it personal, and that was always a mistake.

  That whole scenario didn’t fly with Holly.

  Why commit murder, hide the body in one of the most inaccessible places on earth, and then report finding the body a few days later? Why not let the body float off into Barkley Sound or just rot in situ? Neither Edgefield nor Carver seemed stupid. But Edgefield was fragile and an easy target to crack, as Furlong put it. Trouble was, like most good cops, Holly didn’t just want to get the case off the books, she wanted to find the killer and get him or her off the streets.

  “Walk me to the helipad, Sergeant Rudd.”

  Here goes. She wasn’t fooled by that friendly tone. He carried his overnight bag over one shoulder, walked with long strides that forced her to hurry to keep up. Deliberate. He wanted her off balance. At the bottom of the hotel steps he stopped. The chopper wasn’t here yet, but they’d had word it was on its way.

  “You’ve got some nerve.” The words were barely a whisper but vehement.

  Holly bristled. “Pardon me?”

  Furlong moved closer and leaned down. “After everything we discussed, you told Finn Carver about us.”

  “I didn’t tell anyone.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, aware of eyes staring at them through the windows of the hotel.

  “I sure as hell didn’t mention it.” Rage soured his breath.

  “He overheard us talking on the boat yesterday morning, put two and two together.”

  “Shit.” He let out a tight breath that seemed to dispel most of his anger, but his frown remained. “Being the deputy commissioner’s daughter means a lot of people will be scrutinizing your work. Our past”—he cleared his throat—“relationship would cause quite a stir in the wrong hands.”

  “I didn’t get this job because of you or my dad. I got it because I’m a damned good investigator.”

  “The press doesn’t give a damn about how good an officer you are. They care about headlines and cover-ups, and we can’t afford any more sex scandals.”

  “I know that.” Dammit, hadn’t she had endless discussions with her father about how to improve the force’s reputation, especially where woman were concerned? Her voice was so quiet it was almost indiscernible. “Why the hell didn’t you keep your pants zipped, or at least keep your wedding ring on? I would never have slept with a married man had I known—”

  “Maybe that’s why I took it off.” He held her gaze, and she read something in his eyes that she didn’t want to see. “Did you ever consider for a moment that I might have actually had genuine feelings for you?” Oh, god, she didn’t want to do this. Not now. Not ever. He’d been a massive mistake, and nothing could change that. This would only make it worse.

  He opened his mouth to say more but both their phones rang simultaneously. Thank god.

  His lips twisted. “It’s your father.”

  Her call was from Steffie Billings. “You’ve got an ID? Fantastic. Who?”

  “Tell me,” Furlong ordered, obviously wanting to pass the information on to her dad.

  “A guy named Len Milbank.” She paused and relayed more information. “He’s got a record and acts as a local enforcer for an organized crime gang operating out of Port Alberni.”

  Remy Dryzek—the guy from the bar last night.

  Finally they had a lead.

  CHAPTER 6

  “What can you tell me about Remy Dryzek?” Holly asked Sgt. Greg Hammond, an officer who worked as part of the British Columbia Combined Forces Special Enforcement Unit, which dealt with the organized crime on the island. He was based in Port Alberni, which was a nightmare drive from Bamfield on agonizingly rutted gravel roads. In his early forties, Hammond had short hair and an unruffled manner. The rest of her team was conducting more house-to-house inquiries, asking if people had seen Milbank in the area. If so—where and when. They were in the process of pulling his financial and phone records. As well as e-mail.

  “Second-generation Romanian. Born right here but parents moved to North Vancouver when he was small. He moved back to the island about five years ago when things got a little dicey with the Russian mafia. Served time for assault back in 2005 but managed to fly under the radar ever since.”

  “What makes you think he’s involved in organized crime?”

  Cool hazel eyes regarded her. “Oh, he’s involved all right.” Hammond opened a new computer screen. Pulled up a dozen mug shots, mainly girls who didn’t look legal age. “He runs a prostitution ring all over the island and probably on the mainland too. None of the people we’ve charged will give him up. We inserted an undercover officer into his club once, but they broke out tea and cupcakes and she knew the game was up.”

  “Did he threaten her?”

  Hammond shook his head. “Guy’s too smart to mess with the cops directly. They just sat and laughed at her until she eventually walked out.”

  An idea buzzed in her nerves. “I could go undercover. I was introduced to him in a bar the other day, erroneously, as someone’s girlfriend.” She might be able to get close, get a confession. Excitement started to whip through her blood.

  “No way.”

  “Why not?” She frowned.

  “The deputy commissioner would have my balls. I like them attached.”

  “How do you know about my father?” Her relationship with the big boss wasn’t something she broadcast.

  “Your team commander called earlier asking for information on your vic. He happened to mention it.” His gaze was bland, but Holly had to wonder what else Furlong had said about her.

  Dammit. “What do you have on Milbank?”

  Hammond brought up another mug shot. “No rocket scientist, but he knew how to use his fists. Served time for armed robbery and had a bunch of DUIs. Worked the doors at Dryzek’s club and generally did grunt work.”

  At least she now had a face to replace the grisly corpse she’d met yesterday. Square faced, stubbled jaw, eyes only a mother could love. “Can we visit his home?”

  Hammond nodded. “But we got a report last night to say the place had been burglarized.”

  “What time?”

  Hammond checked his notes. “Landlord reported it around seven o’clock. He doesn’t know when the break-in actually occurred. I’ve applied for a warrant to collect evidence, but we could do an initial scene examination.”

  Her heart gave a little flutter. Had the killer been looking for something? If so, what? Remy Dryzek had told Finn he’d misplaced something and threatened him. Had Milbank stolen something from Dryzek? Or was Milbank the thing that Dryzek was looking for? Why was he in Bamfield looking for the guy? What did he know?

  Cpl. Steffie Billings breezed through the door. She’d flown back from Vancouver and was catching up with the IFIS people based in this building. “I’m never gonna eat sardines again. Or shrimp.”

  Floater autopsies required an iron stomach, but Holly had enough professional interest to be sorry she’d missed it. “Bad?”

  The other woman held up her hand. “I don’t even want to think about it.” Her face was a little pale and she wouldn’t meet Holly’s gaze. Steffie wasn’t a rookie. It must have been grim.

  “Did the post turn up anything useful?”

  “Apart from an ID, not much.” Steffie handed her
a file to look through.

  “Is this my copy?” Holly asked.

  “Yes. I’ve another to give Jeff for the files, and I sent a copy through to the team commander at his request.” She raised both brows and dipped her chin.

  Shit. Furlong was shadowing the investigation much more closely than most team commanders.

  “Knife sliced the left ventricle. Cause of death was massive blood loss. Coroner ordered a bunch of toxicology tests, but it’s going to be hard to figure out if he was drugged first, given the condition of the body. It’ll take a few weeks to get the results back.”

  Holly flicked through the file. Seawater was a bitch. No trace evidence. Flesh had been nibbled away. Starfish, shrimp, and crabs had done some damage, although the neoprene had kept the body off the seafloor, which helped. She looked at a photo of the knife in the chest. Something bothered her about the image. “When I was down there yesterday you had to be super careful not to even make the smallest disturbance; otherwise, visibility was wiped out in seconds. A struggle in that hull would have caused blackout conditions and trapped the killer down there too.”

  Hammond peered over her shoulder. “What happened to Milbank’s tanks?”

  That was it. The lightning bolt moment. “He must have been killed before he put his equipment on—or after he took it off—because with his air tanks on, there’s too much gear. The knife would never have penetrated the heart.”

  “Why would he take his air tanks off inside the wreck?” asked Hammond.

  “He wouldn’t.” She remembered the cold, oppressive feel of that wreck. The disorientating darkness.

  “So he could have been killed on land or in the water and then dumped in the wreck?” Steffie asked.

  “Or on a boat,” Holly said thoughtfully.

  “But why dump the body in the wreck?” Hammond rubbed his eyes.

  “A wreck no one was supposed to know about…” She shot him a hard look. “Good question. Let’s see if we can figure it out. Did the techs finish with Carver and Edgefield’s dive equipment?”