Dangerous Waters

by Toni Anderson

“Never said. But if he did that to her I’m going to rip him apart.”

  She touched his arm, not even withdrawing her fingers when Malone came out of the bungalow, cell phone glued to his ear. “It’s important for us to figure this out without going vigilante or panicking the whole town.”

  “Why shouldn’t they panic? There’s some bastard running cops off the road and stabbing people through the heart. What’s not to panic about?”

  “You’re right. I just don’t want to see you arrested for hitting the wrong guy—”

  “I wouldn’t hit him, Holly. I’d put a pair of bullets between his eyes.”

  Her eyes turned hard. “I need you on my side. Finn—I don’t want to have to arrest you.” Her voice broke.

  Breath sagged out of his chest. He was being selfish. A fool. But the need to act crawled through his belly and wanted to explode. He reined it in. Pushed down the raging inferno that demanded retribution.

  “So I’m not a suspect here?”

  Her eyes told him the truth. Of course he was a suspect. “We need to question you further. But I did verify your alibi for Len Milbank’s murder.”

  “Great.” Finn crossed his arms over his chest and stretched his legs out in front of him. He couldn’t believe this mess. Get cleared of one murder and in the frame for the next.

  “But she’s in full rigor, which means she was probably killed between six and twelve hours ago, give or take.”

  Finn felt his stomach twist.

  “You were with me during a lot of that time last night, driving out to Klanawa River and then dealing with the fire for the rest of it.”

  “We both know there’s a gap in the middle where I could have snuck out and stabbed her. It wouldn’t take more than twenty minutes to drive up and down from the lab.” Had someone raped her? Christ, the thought of Gina suffering made him gag.

  “When we came back from finding Milbank’s boat there were two students from the cabin below yours sitting on your bottom step. They were still there when I came back to get the keys for the dive shed.” A tinge of red bloomed in her cheeks, probably remembering that wasn’t all she’d gotten. She eyed the surrounding bush warily. “Did you leave the cabin?”

  Finn shook his head.

  “Then give me their names and I’ll confirm that ASAP. Pretty sure those two are going to provide you with a solid alibi. We’ll know more when the coroner gets here and establishes an accurate TOD, but for what it’s worth, I don’t consider you a suspect.” The wind blew strands of her hair across her face. “But I’ve got to phone Furlong, and he will.”

  He clenched his teeth. “I’d forgotten about that asshole.”

  “I haven’t.”

  Finn jolted.

  “I don’t mean—” She pressed her lips together and stopped saying whatever it was she’d been about to say. He watched her swallow nervously. “Until I solve this case, I’m stuck with him.”

  “You could ask your father to remove him from the case.”

  “Yeah, I could.” Her gray eyes watched the sky again. “But I don’t want any special favors because my dad’s the deputy commissioner of E Division.”

  “Just make sure Furlong’s on your side, Holly. He’ll screw you over as soon as look at you.”

  Holly smiled. “Yeah. Good advice.”

  He needed a drink of water but welcomed the soreness of his throat. A little discomfort reminded him he was still alive while Gina was definitely and irrevocably dead. “I went for a run to Pachena Beach this morning because I had someone I couldn’t get off my mind, so I did another loop, trying to forget her, and ended up here.” Life was too damn short for playing games and he didn’t want to hide from what he was feeling anymore.

  Eyes darkened, but she didn’t look away.

  He curled his fingers into fists. “But I don’t want to forget her anymore.” He pushed away the image of Gina’s dead body. “I’m done running from whatever it is between us, Holly.”

  “It’s just lust,” she said quietly.

  That did nothing for his pulse. “No, it’s not. Anyway, people kill for less.”

  “If you know anything at all about Gina’s relationships, you need to let me know.”

  She was avoiding the personal conversation he was trying to have. Although, damn, he owed it to Gina to put a sock in it and let Holly do her job and find her killer. He wasn’t at the fucking prom.

  She stood as another vehicle rumbled along the track.

  “Who the hell?” Finn rolled to his feet. “Oh, jeez.”

  But he was too late, and Brent had pushed past Malone with an animal roar and was running toward Gina’s open door. Finn sprinted harder and took Brent down in a tackle that smashed them both onto the deck so hard the house shook. Brent, fighting hard, shoved his palm into Finn’s nose, elbow into his ear, and knee into his crotch, but Finn dodged the worst of it, holding onto his brother with every ounce of strength he possessed. He whipped Brent onto his front, facedown against the wood. He could not let his brother see what someone had done to Gina. It would destroy him.

  Brent roared like a bull and almost succeeded in dislodging Finn from his back. “Gina,” he gasped. “Is she all right? Tell me, Finn. Fucking tell me!”

  He drew his brother’s arms high up to try to just hold him still, calm him down long enough to talk to him, to break the news. Malone snapped cuffs around both Brent’s wrists.

  “Hey!” Finn grabbed Malone by the arm.

  Malone shook him off. “Don’t make me arrest you too.”

  “You can’t arrest him!”

  “He assaulted a police officer.” He dragged Brent to his feet. Muscles bunched in Malone’s jaw. Holly shook her head slightly, and Malone backed down a millimeter.

  “Where is she? What’s happened to Gina?” Brent’s gaze never left Finn’s face. “I got a phone call. Something about a homicide on this road.” His voice got super quiet. “Where’s Gina, Finn?”

  He forced out the words. “She’s dead, Brent. Someone killed her.”

  His brother dropped to his knees and screamed as if someone was ripping out his heart. The sound stabbed through Finn like a bayonet. Howls filled the air. Great big sobs of grief as if nothing else would ever matter.

  “We’re going to need to ask you some questions, Mr. Carver.” Holly leaned closer to Brent. “We’re going to take you down to Port Alberni and record an interview. You’re not being arrested for assault, and Corporal Malone is going to let you out of those restraints just so long as you behave.” Malone gaped at her. Holly ignored him.

  “You know how this works. If you resist us or run into this house and contaminate our crime scene, it will look bad for you. Very bad. So if you’ve got nothing to hide and want to help us find who killed Gina, you need to stay calm and tell us everything you know. Do you understand?”

  The whites of Brent’s eyes were bright red. He raised his chin.

  “Do you understand, Mr. Carver?”

  Brent’s eyes died right in front of him. Finn shivered. They’d looked cold before, but now they looked like the inside a freezer in the morgue. Brent nodded. No emotion, no more tears. No more roars of pain. He walked quietly to the SUV and Malone helped him climb in the back, his wrists still cuffed.

  Finn’s heart cracked. “You want me to go too?”

  Holly pursed her lips and shook her head. “I’m going to take down a statement from you while I wait for backup and the coroner. I want you to give me the names of the guys from the downstairs cabin. Then you can go back to work at the marine lab. I’ll question you later.”

  “I’m going to get Brent a lawyer.”

  Her eyes flashed.

  “He’s my brother, Holly, an ex-con, and he didn’t do this.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Do what you have to do. Just don’t tell anyone about what you saw in there.” She pointed her finger. “Right now we’re the only ones who know what happened to her—”

  “Except her killer.”

  �
��Exactly.”

  Finn looked from his brother’s desolate expression to Holly’s slender back as she walked away. They were suddenly as far apart as the Pacific Ocean, and barreling toward them at five hundred miles per hour was a category five hurricane.

  CHAPTER 14

  The wound in Gina’s chest gleamed darkly, blood crusted and dried against pale skin. Blood had run down her chest and soaked into the bedding. The coroner bent over her, peering closely at the wound, pressing turgid flesh with a satisfied grunt, working his alchemic magic. “I can only give you a wide ranging time of death at the scene, you know that.”

  George Margolis was a methodical and careful man who measured words as carefully as the corpse’s temp.

  “She’s still in full rigor mortis.”

  “Hmm.”

  Holly held on to her patience. When she got a pathologist who’d commit to more than a cup of coffee at a crime scene she was going to do a jig on the spot.

  “George, give me something to work with here. I’ve got two dead bodies, both with knife wounds to the heart, and a town full of suspects. If you can give me a TOD, I can start eliminating people from the suspect list.” She dug her hands deep in her pockets, reining in her frustration.

  He threw his head up dramatically and gave her a pitying look. “And when I change the TOD after the autopsy you’ll be pissed and back to square one, correct?” Supercilious brows rose over ruddy cheeks.

  “Yes,” she gritted. God, she hated doctors in all their forms.

  “Hey, what happened to your face?” He’d obviously only just noticed her bruises. He was much better at dealing with the dead.

  “Kissed an airbag.”

  “You don’t get out enough.” He turned back to the body and Holly resisted pacing. She had Chastain and Messenger outside Brent Carver’s house waiting on a search warrant.

  Maybe she was going soft, but she didn’t like the guy for this one. The grief had been too raw, too potent. A search warrant would actually help clear his name as long as they didn’t find any bloody clothing or knives hidden away. She doubted Finn would see it that way.

  Jeff and Malone had taken Brent into Port Alberni for questioning. Steffie was working her ass off, cataloging all the evidence from this crime scene on top of all the others. Holly had put a request in for more officers, because with a double homicide and multiple crime scenes, they were stretched as thin as plastic wrap.

  She answered her cell on the first ring. “Yes, sir?” Furlong. Again. Christ, he was certainly keeping this investigation under microscopic scrutiny.

  George rolled his eyes. He was one of the few people in the world who thought Staff Sgt. James “Jimmy” Furlong was a complete prick. She gave him a half smile as Furlong started in on her.

  “Coroner got a TOD yet?”

  “Not yet, sir.”

  “Useless piece of—”

  “You’re on speeeaker,” George sang loudly in the background, then grinned evilly.

  “What the fu—”

  “You’re not on speaker, Staff Sergeant Furlong.” She rolled her eyes and walked out of the bedroom, away from what remained of poor Gina Swartz. “George is messing with your head.” And frankly, she liked it.

  Furlong paused. She could actually imagine him tilting his head in consideration and realizing he’d lost some of his vaunted cool.

  “I just spoke to Malone, and he said Finn Carver found the body. I want that man in custody—”

  “That would be a waste of our time and resources, sir. Finn Carver’s whereabouts can be vouched for almost all of last evening—”

  “Well, people lie.”

  “I don’t lie.”

  “You’re his alibi? After everything I said to you before I left about causing a scandal?”

  Holly tried to find the calm center of the raging storm that swirled inside her at his insinuations. She’d come close to crossing the line with someone involved in the investigation, but she’d resisted. Thank god. “He drove Malone and me out to find Milbank’s boat because we didn’t have a vehicle at that time.” A small dig, but a dig nonetheless. “Then, after midnight, he was getting the dive logs for me when we spotted a fire outside the marine lab. He helped put it out and spent most of the night questioning students to see who’d been stupid enough to almost burn the place down.” Her voice had risen and rang out over the trees. She was outside, standing next to the flowery-patterned garden swing that sat in a small patch of sunshine. Gina Swartz had sat there, had read there, relaxed there. Hell, maybe she’d even made love there. Her eyes narrowed. She needed to make sure the DNA on the sheets and mattress was analyzed ASAP. She needed to know who her most recent lover was.

  If Brent Carver’s DNA was on those sheets, he was lying about his relationship with the vic. Maybe this had been a crime of passion? Most women were killed by partners or ex-partners.

  She zoned back to hear Furlong talking about coming out there as soon as his schedule cleared. Dammit. “I can manage, sir.”

  “Funny, because I thought you’d requested more people?”

  “But I know how busy you are.” Her stomach churned. Ripples of unease rolled through her.

  “I’m coming out there, Holly. It isn’t just your reputation on the line, and this thing is starting to get out of control.”

  “I can manage.”

  “Well, you’re doing a piss-poor job so far.”

  Maybe he was right. Maybe she hadn’t done a great job on this case. There were so few clues and no one was talking. But what the hell could Furlong do that was different and still legal?

  “I look forward to seeing you, sir.”

  After she hung up, she stared fixedly at the bare patch of ground under the swing. No way was she letting Furlong elbow her aside. She dialed another number. Usually she didn’t pull strings, but she was going to solve this case any way possible.

  “Hey, Cassy. I need a favor.” Cassy was a friend who worked for IFIS back on the mainland.

  “Hey, chica, how you doing out there in the wilderness?” Cassy DeAngelo was five feet and one inch of sheer, unadulterated sexiness. Guys fell for her the moment they set eyes on her and vied for her attention like groupies at a rock gig. She treated them all with indulgent indifference.

  “Truthfully? I’m struggling.”

  “Uh oh. How can I help?”

  Holly smiled. “I’m going to courier you some bed linen.” Which would hopefully give them the name of Gina’s current lover—assuming he, or she, was in the system. They could cross-reference her phone records. See if they could obtain voluntary DNA samples for all her acquaintances, which would help whittle down the suspect pool to a manageable number. “If you could get back to me ASAP on DNA and run it through every database you can think of, I would be forever in your debt.” If she waited for normal channels, they wouldn’t see results for at least a month, and she couldn’t bear another month of the commanding officer from hell.

  “Is this favor worth a weekend away with me to NYC?”

  “Anything.”

  “Anything? Wow, I should have asked for a fortnight in Hawaii, seen if we could hustle us up some cabana boys.” Holly could hear her friend’s grin. She was irreverent and unrepentant and the master of decoding genetic secrets of biological material in all its many forms. “Tell ’em to mark the package urgent and with my name, not just the lab. I’ll get on it as soon as it arrives.”

  “Thanks, Cass. I owe you.”

  “And I will collect.”

  Thom hovered behind Finn as he pushed inside Laura’s back door. He’d tried to get Finn to calm down, but for once the unflappable ex-soldier was too riled for reason.

  “I need your help,” Finn said to Laura.

  She stood there in old jeans, a faded pink sweatshirt, and both hands covered in clay. The outfit was all potter, but the angle of her chin and glint in her eye was pure prosecuting attorney. He caught her gaze. She nodded at him, that silent communication all they needed to co
nvey the importance of this moment. Finn asking for help. She turned, wiping her hands on a crusted rag.

  “Gina Swartz was found dead, and they’ve taken Brent for questioning.”

  Her hand went to her chest and Thom watched her nostrils flare before she swallowed. “They used to date, right?”

  “Yeah. But he broke it off a couple of months ago. She told me she’d just started seeing someone else.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know.” Finn ran both hands over his face. The guy had been up all last night and probably hadn’t got much sleep the two nights before that. Thom clasped his hands together wanting to do something to help. Finn had long ago stopped being the vulnerable teenager Thom had rescued. But right now he was remembering everything he’d gone through to become the man he was today.

  “Does he have an alibi?” Laura asked Finn.

  Finn’s lip curled. “Brent? How would he? He’s almost a recluse.”

  “Hmmm…” She headed for the tap and started running hot water and then soap over the red clay that was trapped in the margins of her fingernails. She got the scrubbing brush to work, clearly figuring out what she was going to say.

  Finn’s expression hardened. “I know he’s not the nicest guy in the world.”

  “Not nice barely covers it.” Laura looked over her shoulder archly.

  So she’d met Brent Carver.

  “Look, I know he doesn’t conform to all the social niceties.” Finn’s voice was tight, his actions jerky.

  Laura’s eyes flicked to Thom. She seemed to be looking to him for guidance. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

  “He loved Gina. He wouldn’t hurt her,” Finn said.

  “Hmmm…” She dried her hands on a soft peach towel beside the sink.

  “OK.” Finn rammed his fingers through his hair. “Just give me the name of another lawyer in Port Alberni who has a chance of keeping an ex-con—who’s on parole—out of jail. And lock the doors and windows from now on because Brent didn’t do this. Someone else did.” He turned and shouldered his way past Thom.

  Thom exhaled a breath and stared at Laura, strangely at ease with her, considering she jumbled him up inside. “It would mean a lot to him,” he said. “You might not have noticed, but he rarely asks for anything for himself.”