Dangerous Waters

by Toni Anderson

  Which one? They had a lot to choose from.

  Anita’s eyes darkened. “I guess you’ve had more important things to think about with Brent Carver killing poor Gina. Such a sweet girl.” Her gaze was avid on her face, searching for clues to feed the gossip mill.

  “No one’s been charged yet.” Maybe people around here believed that if you said something often enough and loudly enough it became fact. Better than thinking the monster was still out there among them. “I’d make sure your doors and windows are locked at night. Just in case.”

  The woman went white.

  “We’re still checking everyone’s whereabouts last night. Ruling people out of our investigation.”

  “We were all here last night,” Anita said quickly. Too quickly.

  “From what time?” Holly pulled out her notepad.

  Anita bit her lip. “I finished work about five thirty. I only work late if we have an emergency.” She nodded pointedly to Holly’s face.

  You owe me, loud and clear.

  “Mike and Grant came back from the hardware store about the same time.” Anita laughed, a little high pitched. “We all stayed in and watched American Idol. Had an early night.”

  “I love that show.” Not that she ever had time to watch it. “So where can I find the men of the family?”

  “Grant’s at the store and Mike’s down at the dock.” Anita bit her lip.

  Holly turned and, sure enough, a somber-looking Mike Toben had just come up on the deck of a small charter fishing boat.

  Holly said good-bye to Anita and went down to talk to Mike. The dog followed, still wagging his tail but getting distracted by a good smell in the grass.

  “Hey,” Mike called, without his usual sparkle. He had a bruise on his jaw, as if he’d been socked.

  “How you doing?” Holly smiled. “Been in a fight?”

  He touched his chin, shrugged, and turned back to wiping down the surfaces of the boat. “I don’t know why I’m bothering,” he eyed the ominous clouds, “but we’ve got a booking from some anglers this weekend, and I wanted to get it clean.”

  There was no flirting grin today. No levity at all.

  “Did you know Gina Swartz, Mike?”

  He stilled and then went back to cleaning the boat. “This is a small town. I know everyone.”

  “Even Brent Carver?”

  He clenched his jaw, muscles bunching. “Brent Carver is a murdering asshole, and if I ever see him again I’m gonna rip off his head.” Dark fury rolled off him.

  Was that protective male posturing or something more, something deeper? “Did you ever have a sexual relationship with Gina?”

  “We were friends, nothing more.” But his eyes shifted, and suddenly Holly didn’t believe him.

  “You ever been in her house?”

  His lips pressed firmly together and his eyes glittered as if trying to decide what to tell her. “She asked me to upgrade her plumbing a few weeks ago. Every damn tap in the house dripped.”

  “I’m going to need your fingerprints so we can eliminate them from the scene. I’ve got a kit in the SUV. I’d like to take DNA too, eliminate you from all our inquiries.”

  “I don’t want my goddamn DNA in the system like some common criminal.”

  She grimaced. Unfortunately, Mike wasn’t alone in his suspicious nature. They hadn’t had a single volunteer for their database yet. She’d need warrants, which meant more headaches and more delays. “At least you’ve got a decent alibi, huh?” She smiled, trying to put him at ease.

  “What?” He stood straight and glared at her. She kept her reaction light, but was balanced on the balls of her feet for any sudden moves. Had Mike been Gina’s new lover? “You and your mom, watching TV together. It’s rather cute, although I figured you for more of a hockey fan.” Given every T-shirt he wore bore the Canucks’ logo.

  “I watch whatever she wants to watch.” His face was hard. Eyes flat. Giving nothing away. No more charming rogue. The guy was pissed.

  “Come up with me now so I can get your fingerprints and eliminate them from our investigation, OK?”

  Anita leaned on the door frame and watched them.

  “Fine.” He swallowed, then asked abruptly, “D-did she suffer?”

  “Gina?”

  He nodded rapidly. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his brow. Plenty of nerves. Why? Lover? Killer? Distraught friend?

  “I’m sorry,” she told him gently, “I can’t disclose any part of the investigation.”

  He flinched.

  “But, no,” she said quietly. “I don’t think so. I think it was probably very quick.”

  “Good.” He blew out a long breath. Sniffed loudly. “That’s good.”

  Holly took his prints under the watchful gaze of his mother. Then she got in her SUV and drove away, watching them in the rearview. Mike—tall, dark, and handsome, beside his petite, blond mother. Something was definitely up with that family, but Holly didn’t know if it had anything to do with her case or not.

  Her cell rang, and she saw it was Furlong. She answered, wishing like hell she had enough seniority to ignore the guy and knowing she didn’t. “Yes, sir.” Every syllable hurt.

  “Coroner’s given us a pretty firm TOD for once, mainly because the victim spoke to her sister in Vancouver just before midnight. Gina Swartz was murdered between midnight and one o’clock.” Her heart gave a little leap of thanks because that put Finn in the clear. “You still interviewing locals?”

  “Yes, sir. Just spoke to Anita Toben and her son, Mike. Something seemed off about them. It’s possible Mike Toben could have been Gina Swartz’s mystery lover. I’d like to apply for a warrant to obtain a sample of his DNA.”

  “Yeah?” Furlong sounded distracted. Tired. “That sounds like a good plan.”

  “You OK?”

  “Nothing an arrest wouldn’t cure.”

  She wanted to kick herself for asking. “IFIS get anything else from Brent Carver’s place?”

  “They got a few fingerprints. Get your ass back here and let’s see what we’ve got.”

  “On my way, sir.”

  “And, Holly?”

  Her heart gave a painful spasm, expecting more criticism.

  “I was out of line before. I let things get the better of me.” His voice dropped. “I’ve been having a few problems at home, and I allowed that to spill over into my work. We need to work together on this, start over. Concentrate on the case.”

  Her breath stuttered. An apology? Not exactly, but wow… “Let’s catch this killer so we can all go home,” she said.

  He laughed with such pained irony she got a glimpse of why she’d briefly fallen for him.

  “If only that would solve my problems. See you soon, Sergeant Rudd.”

  Back in the hotel, Holly was working through the list of people from the village who had solid alibis for last night. The vast majority of folks at the marine lab were accounted for, although not everyone. Thomas Edgefield didn’t have an alibi; neither did Rob Fitzgerald, Gladys, or half a dozen others. Still, it felt good to knock a few people off the list of potential murderers—assuming the killer was a local. She was looking to see if they could get any information from cell towers that might pin down locations of the others. Unfortunately, the fire brigade hadn’t been called until twelve thirty, which gave all of those volunteers thirty minutes in which to commit the murder, so none of those guys were necessarily in the clear. The arson investigator couldn’t say for certain if the fire was started deliberately or not, but it had all the feel of a diversion.

  “We finally got records from the phone company who confirmed there was a call to Brent Carver at nine thirteen in the morning. It came from the public call box in town,” Messenger shouted out to her and Furlong, who grunted. They were working in the lounge.

  “See if we can get a warrant for all the calls made from that call box. Outgoing and incoming,” said Holly. In the age of cell phones, public pay phones were often overlooked. “Call IFIS
and get a technician back here to see if we can get any DNA or fingerprints that might give us an ID on who made that call.” She checked her watch; she was exhausted but couldn’t afford to slow down or take a break.

  “Get Chastain and Malone to guard it until the tech gets there. It won’t do much good in court, but it might give us a name,” Furlong muttered, running his fingers through salt-and-pepper hair. There were loaded bags under his eyes. Everyone on the team was starting to look hollow-eyed with fatigue. “We need a break in this case.”

  Holly looked up. “You don’t fancy Brent Carver for this one?”

  His mouth twisted. “Before we found the knife I’d thought he was a good bet, but what sort of asshole leaves a bloody murder weapon on his frickin’ bed? Doesn’t fly, and it stinks of a setup.”

  “Unless it’s a bluff.”

  He laughed. “You need balls of steel to make that bluff, and no one likes prison that much, especially not this guy. I’m thinking we need to identify Gina Swartz’s lover as a person of interest, but the lab is swamped. I tried strong-arming them earlier.” He had the grace to look sheepish. “Didn’t work. What can I say? I’m an ass sometimes.” The look in his eyes was almost haunted.

  Still, she wasn’t about to feel sorry for him. Or tell him the local lab didn’t have those particular samples. Instead, she went out the front of the hotel and called Cassy to see how it was going.

  “I’m getting there, but no matter how brilliant I am, I still have to give it a few hours in the PCR machine. I found skin cells and semen.” She sounded excited. The nerd. “I also tested different blood drops. Amazing how much people leave behind on a sheet when they have sex.”

  Especially when one of them ends up dead.

  “How long do you think before you can start trying to type it?”

  “I’m going to go grab a couple of hours’ sleep while it amplifies and then come in early to get this started before I start my real shift—”

  “Thank you so much.”

  “I’m sending flight details and a list of hotels to you as soon as I finish this, BTW. Three full days, got it?”

  “I’ve got it. Your birthday is coming up next month, right?”

  “Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Cassy didn’t want to be thirty. But she brightened. “NYC will be a great place to take my mind off it.”

  Holly hung up, glad to have pulled this particular string. She jumped an inch off the ground when she realized Rachel Messenger was standing in the darkness just a few feet away.

  “Sorry,” Messenger said quickly. She looked over her shoulder. “I just found out something about the knife,” she whispered.

  “What?” Holly frowned and stepped toward her. Her heart started a slow pound. Whatever it was didn’t sound good. Messenger motioned her to come closer. She was acting weird, and Holly hated people who acted weird.

  “What is it?”

  “The hotline got a tip about who the knife belonged to and passed the message on to me.”

  Holly crossed her arms. “Who?”

  “Thomas Edgefield.” Messenger’s eyes ping-ponged off the entrance.

  “Shit.” Holly’s jaw locked.

  “I’ve also got a record of him purchasing a new knife in Tofino the day before Milbank was killed.”

  Finn had lied to her. Holly firmed her lips together. Anger was flowing along her veins, and she didn’t want it to escape yet.

  “But the most interesting thing is this. I listened to the call, and I recognized the voice of the guy leaving the tip.”

  “Who was it?” Holly snapped.

  “Rob Fitzgerald. Finn Carver’s assistant.”

  She mulled it over. Either Rob was being a concerned citizen while trying to not lose his job or he was trying to pin the murder on Edgefield, which meant maybe he was involved. “I want you to dig into Rob Fitzgerald’s background. Everything from phone records to financials.” She looked across the inlet, the anger gaining ground now. Searing her skin. Simmering inside her heart. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

  “Where are you going?” Messenger asked.

  “I’m going to re-interview Edgefield and Carver about that knife. Let’s figure out exactly who is lying about what before we tell the boss.”

  Rachel nodded rapidly. “I won’t say anything. Just report in, OK?”

  Holly snorted. Messenger was worried about her. She tapped her Smith & Wesson. “I’ve got you on speed dial. But don’t worry, I can take care of myself.”

  Finn sat on his deck sinking a cold one. He’d had bad days in his life, plenty of them, but they never got any easier. First finding Gina dead, fighting with Holly, and seeing Brent carted away like some piece-of-shit criminal. He clenched his fist and held back the fury that burned through his veins.

  Idiot. Getting close to Holly after he’d told himself not to. And what had happened? Within hours of figuring out he cared about her, his brother was sitting in an eight-by-eight cell. He tipped back the beer and downed the lot. Christ. Emotions burned his eyes, but he didn’t cry. He wasn’t that stupid little kid anymore. He would fix this.

  Boots stomped up the stairs. About goddamn time. He flipped the cap off another bottle and leaned back in his chair, letting his gaze rove insolently over her body. Because he didn’t have anything to lose anymore, and pissing her off was a bonus.

  She leaned down until they were eye level, hers as hot as lava. Her teeth didn’t move as she ground out, “You lied to me about the knife.”

  He went dizzy for a moment. He’d forgotten he did have something else to lose. Thom.

  He stood, forcing her to take a step back. He opened his door and dragged her into his living room. This was not a conversation he wanted anyone to overhear.

  “Let me go.”

  He dropped her arm like a stone. “How did you find out about the knife?” And what exactly did she know?

  Anger rolled off her in waves. Well, hell, they were even. “That’s classified information. Tell me about the knife.”

  Shit shit shit.

  “Fine. The knife was Thom’s old dive knife. He said it went missing a couple of weeks ago.” He dragged his hands through his hair. “Anyone could have taken it out of his locker. We don’t lock them up, and even if we did, it—”

  “I understand that.” He watched the line of her throat ripple as she worked to clamp down on what she really wanted to say. “What I don’t understand is that when I asked you about that knife, you lied.”

  “Thom wasn’t involved in Milbank’s murder, but if you’d known his knife was the murder weapon you’d have hauled him in for questioning the same way you hauled in Brent.”

  “With good cause—”

  “My brother would never lay a hand on Gina!” He always kept control of his temper. Always. But right now he was ready to punch the wall. “You already eliminated us from Milbank’s murder because of the timeline. I. Did. You. A. Favor.”

  “Impeding a police investigation is an offense.”

  Thunder rumbled in the distance. He held his wrists together in the moonlit room. “Then why don’t you arrest me?”

  “You’re impossible.” She whirled away, stalked back. “What else have you been lying to me about?”

  He pressed his lips tightly together. He didn’t believe Brent had killed anyone, but he wasn’t giving the cops fodder to make a circumstantial case against him.

  “If you know anything, Finn, you have to tell me.”

  “I don’t know anything.” He went to the sink and filled a glass with water, downed it, and filled it again. Heard the fat drip of rain as the sky finally unleashed the storm it had been promising all day. “Except Thom and Brent are not killers.”

  “Where is he, the professor?” She followed him and leaned against the counter.

  He was hyperaware of them being alone together. Cocooned as the lightning flashed across the sky. His anger left him feeling raw and exposed. Emotions pulsing too close to the surface.

  “He’s
staying with Laura Prescott, Brent’s attorney, in Port Alberni until they get him released.” Thunder boomed, making the windows shudder in response. “No way would Brent risk going back to prison. He said he hadn’t seen Milbank in months.”

  “And I thought you hadn’t spoken to Brent?” she said archly.

  She was sharp. He’d give her that. Slowly the rage was filtering out of his body, leaving him tired and angry. “I went to speak to him after I found that body in the wreck. I asked if he’d heard anything.”

  “Had he?”

  “Only that someone was asking after Milbank.”

  She hissed. “So you knew the identity of the body before we did?” The skin around her mouth went white.

  Finn rested his hand on her shoulder. “It wasn’t like that.”

  She shook him off. “Then what was it like?”

  He took a breath. Looked for his Zen mode and found it pretty damn elusive in Holly’s company. “I suspected it might be Milbank because Remy was looking for him and the size of the body was about right. That’s all I knew. That it might be Milbank.”

  She turned away from him. “Did you tell Gina Swartz about the shipwreck?”

  Shock jolted through him. “No. No! She was in the library, but I didn’t talk to her about it. If you want to keep something a secret in this town, you don’t tell a damn soul.”

  “Could she have seen what you were doing?”

  “No.” He shook his head and then froze. “Shit.” He swallowed. “I left to get a book out of the main library—the side room near the front door. When I got back, she was in her seat after getting back from lunch.” He closed his eyes, trying to visualize the moment. “I had a list of local shipwrecks on the PC and a large map of Crow Point spread out.”

  He dropped the glass and it shattered in the sink. “Did I get Gina killed?”

  Holly grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the glittering shards. “Careful, I’ll help you clear that up.”

  He jerked his hand away. Lightning lit up the sky and thunder boomed. “Is it my fault she’s dead?”