by Keaton, Elle
Of course, they hadn’t yet bought their plane tickets or made reservations at a resort. Were they even resort guys? Most of Hawaii’s appeal seemed to be distance from Piedras. As much as Mat loved his home and the community he served, sometimes it was nice for them not to know every minute detail of his life.
His mom was quiet for a bit, then said, “I’m going to make a pot of decaf so we can talk this over.”
“Mom,” Mat groaned. “Niall and I are the ones getting married.”
She plugged in the coffee maker before pulling the decaf beans from the freezer. “Yes, but this is a cry for help if ever I’ve heard one.” Reaching across him, she filled the carafe with water and then poured it into the coffee maker.
Rolling his eyes, Mat finished rinsing the plates and stowed them in the dishwasher. By the time he was done, his mom had the coffee started.
“Cookies?” she asked.
The back door banged open and Riley and Fenrir burst inside, bringing the musty pre-autumn air with them.
Riley eyed her grandmother with a decidedly predatory look in her eyes. “Is it cookie time yet, grandma?”
Alyson took in her grubby granddaughter with a single glance. “First it’s bath time, then you can have some cookies.”
“Gramma!” Riley protested, throwing her head back and looking at the ceiling as if her grandmother had asked her to do the most ridiculous thing in the world.
“Bath,” Mom said firmly.
“Hmph.”
Riley dashed out of the kitchen and down the hallway, and a minute later they could hear the bath water running. Fenrir padded out into the living room, where Alyson had a dog bed set up for him. Mat heard him as he turned around three times and settled with a thump, something that always made Mat smile. Why did dogs do that?
His mom turned to him. “So, about the wedding.”
“No cookies until we let you help?” Mat teased.
“Something like that. Honestly, Mat, I won’t do anything without running it past you first, but you and Niall are both very busy—too busy to plan your wedding. And Hawaii is ridiculous. If you really want to go there, go for your honeymoon. There are several places here on Piedras that would be lovely and affordable for the ceremony.”
Alyson slid out a file folder that had been tucked in between her cookbooks and handed it to him. It was stuffed full of various venue brochures from around the San Juans and the mainland.
“Look at these while I pour coffee and set the cookies out.”
It was a losing battle… and his mom was right. Neither he nor Niall had the time to plan a big event. He sighed; they should’ve eloped when they had the chance.
That night, Mat slept on the living room couch, as he’d given his room up to Riley when he moved out months ago. It was comfortable enough, and Fenrir slept on the rug next to him, his doggy snores keeping Mat company. It niggled at Mat that Niall didn’t call, but he didn’t have great cell reception where he was in backcountry Idaho. Before tucking his phone away, Mat shot him a text confirming he was staying at Alyson’s; they could talk tomorrow.
4
Niall [same evening]
Niall and Leo had installed themselves back at their table in the tavern, and Leo was looking on impatiently as Niall chatted with one of the analysts who worked from the WCF offices.
“Yes, it’s a specialty hiking boot, pricey and popular. The tread is fairly unique, but it’s the wear on this one that really sets it off.” Ryder said, his tone confident.
“So you say, Sherlock. Is the perp six feet tall, right-handed, with a lisp and a southern accent?” Niall teased. He liked Ryder Mann and Scarlett Weaver; Leo called them the WCF home team. It was easy to get a rise out of Ryder, so of course Niall goaded him whenever he had the chance.
“Jackass,” Ryder grumbled. “Give me all the crap you want, but I’m telling you, from the wear marks on this tread, I’d say that the owner has some kind of permanent injury or disability. The arch is far more worn down than the rest of the sole. Maybe he walks with a limp or a shuffle?”
There was a rustling sound, and then everything got muffled. Niall glanced around the tavern. Eventually Ryder came back on the line. “Scarlett’s got something for you guys. Have Leo call her line.” He clicked off without saying goodbye.
“Scarlett’s got something,” Niall informed Leo after summing up what Ryder had told him about the boot print.
Now it was Niall’s turn to listen to a one-sided conversation. Leo nodded as he listened, raising his eyebrows at something Scarlett said. Niall knew Leo had asked Scarlett to see if she could find a connection between Graniteville and Prichard. It seemed she had.
Leo ended the call and shoved his phone back into this pocket.
“Marcus Langley has a cabin outside of Prichard, close to the river. He also has a recreational mining permit.”
“You think he brought that ore in?” Niall asked.
“The stuff Bjerke told us about, yep,” Leo agreed. “Marcus is probably mining for gold or silver. Did you know Idaho is one of the world’s biggest producers of silver?”
“Focus, Leo.”
“There’s literally a five-mile radius where that ore occurs in conjunction with silver deposits in Idaho.”
“Let me guess. Langley’s cabin is within that radius.”
“You, sir, are the winner. We’re gonna need a search warrant.”
Four hours later, Sheriff Dawson was in possession of two search warrants, one for the hardware store—Langley lived above it—and one for his late-model Jeep, and they were headed back to Graniteville.
“How do you want to do this?” Niall asked Leo. As the newest team member, he didn’t want to step on any toes.
Leo pursed his lips, focusing on the highway ahead of them. Graniteville was just a few miles away. They’d accompanied Dawson to McCall in case the judge wanted to talk with them. She hadn’t. The sheriff had done a great job of presenting the evidence against Langley.
“Dawson’s had his deputies keeping an eye out while we were gone. One of them is stationed in front of the store; the other is in back. Dawson will serve the warrants, and we’ll back him up.”
Dawson didn’t think Langley was a flight risk. “His family is here. He’s a bit of an odd guy, but,” the sheriff had said, shrugging, “so are a lot of us.”
Graniteville Hardware was situated in an old two-story clapboard building that had seen better days. The structure had been white once but over time had faded to a dingy shade of gray. The paint was peeling in places, and a few pieces of siding needed to be replaced.
The front door was recessed between two large windows. At nearly four in the afternoon, the rays of the late summer sun reflecting off the watery panes of ancient glass were blinding. But Niall remembered from his previous visit that one side of the window displays had things like climbing ropes, carabiners, and gloves, because Langley catered to hikers and campers who stopped in the tiny town. The other window had rakes, hoes, bags of lawn seed (why, Niall wondered), shovels, and, randomly, what seemed to be empty paint buckets.
It was an unsettling walk back in time as the three of them pushed through the door. A bell hooked to the door handle chimed, announcing their presence. The store was dimly lit, the aisles narrow and the shelves packed with goods of all kinds. On a top shelf against one wall, Niall spotted an ancient and dust-shrouded clothes dummy lying on its back, one handless arm lifted into the air as if asking for help. A stack of MREs had fallen or been left on the floor. Niall’s booted foot hit them, and he winced as they scattered across the aisle. A fly buzzed loudly, bumping its body against one of the windows.
Langley’s office was in the back, but he didn’t come out to meet them.
“Are we sure he’s here?” Niall asked quietly.
Leo nodded, “His Jeep is still in back, and he hasn’t left through the front or back door. He’s been here since we left.”
A tingling between Niall’s shoulder blades was al
erting him that something was not right, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He grazed Leo’s wrist with his finger to get his attention and made eye contact. Leo nodded again. He felt it too; the store was too quiet. The fly had stopped bumping against the window. Somewhere, a clock ticked.
Sheriff Dawson was about five feet ahead of them. “Langley?” he called out.
Langley didn’t answer. The tingling between Niall’s shoulder blades intensified. Some primal instinct screamed, “Danger.” They needed to get out, now.
“I think we should—”
The building exploded. There must have been sound of some kind, but Niall didn’t hear it after the first monstrous detonation. Around them, in a kind of slow motion, shelves began to collapse, the inventory vomiting off the metal shelving and onto the cement floor. Years of dust plumed into the air, making it impossible for Niall to breathe or see, and he still couldn’t hear. What he remembered later was how the clothes dummy slowly teetered back and forth before finally tumbling off its perch to land behind a display of uncut keys that glittered in the afternoon sunshine. What a weird thing to notice, he thought.
Then the back of his head exploded with agony. He shut his eyes against the pain, but he could see stars as the ground lifted up to meet him. He tried to open his mouth, to say something to Leo, but everything went dark.
5
Tuesday—Mat
“Mat.” His mother shook his shoulder. “The phone is for you.”
Mat sat up, groggy. It had taken him forever to fall asleep, the sounds of the house he’d grown up in no longer familiar and comforting. The tendrils of a dream clung to him, strands of a spiderweb he couldn’t brush away quickly enough.
“What?” He realized Alyson was holding his phone out to him.” Who is it?” He took the phone from her, pressing it against his chest. His brain still wasn’t working right. “What time is it?”
He got up from the couch and padded into the kitchen. The stove clock read 3:20. He’d been asleep about two hours. His dream wouldn’t dissipate. Irrationally, it seemed like answering the phone made it stickier and more ominous. Maybe he’d heard the ringing and hadn’t been able to wake himself up? He was that tired; he shook his head again to try to wake himself up a little more.
His mom followed him. “I don’t know who it is, but they asked for you. I’ll make coffee.”
Nodding thanks, Mat sucked in a deep breath and brought the phone up to his ear, “Dempsey here.”
His mom busied herself at the sink, but Mat was aware she was listening to every word of his side of the conversation. Her movements were careful yet sharp; Mat wanted to tell her to go back to bed but knew she wouldn’t. If the worst had happened—if something had happened to Niall—Mat didn’t know if he could handle the comfort she’d try to offer him.
“Sheriff Dempsey,” a younger, worried, male voice replied, “my name is Ryder Mann. I work with Leo Zelinsky and Niall Hamarsson at West Coast Forensics.”
Mat’s stomach lurched; he was going to vomit. “Has something happened?” he managed.
“Sort of, but first: both Zelinsky and Hamarsson are going to be fine, from what Leo’s told me. But they were admitted to the hospital last night for observation.”
The relief was so overwhelming, Mat nearly collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs. Instead he just grabbed the back of one to hold himself steady. He had so many questions. The first one was, why hadn’t he been notified right away?
“I’m sure you’re wondering why it took so long for me to call,” Mann said, “or why Investigator Hamarsson hasn’t called you himself. My apologies. Field Lead Zelinsky has authorized me to share the information I have about the situation.”
Mat heard Mann take a deep breath, then he began to speak. “Zelinsky and Hamarsson were assisting in the service of a search warrant yesterday evening, in a hardware store in Graniteville. As they entered the store, the suspect detonated a homemade bomb. The guy had made the structure into a booby trap. Hamarsson and Zelinsky were hit on the head by flying debris and both were unconscious for a time, so the EMTs admitted them for overnight observation.
“Their cell phones were destroyed, which is why we couldn’t contact you immediately—and it took longer than any of us here in the office liked to find out about the incident. In my opinion, those fuckers out in Idaho took their time on purpose. I can’t prove anything, of course, but Leo has a big-ass tattoo of a rainbow merman on his arm. And,” Mann added, “I didn’t think you’d want this call on the Piedras County Sheriff’s Office emergency line. As soon as Hamarsson was able to, he gave me this number.” He rattled off the number of the hospital and Niall’s room number. “I just talked to him, so I know he’s awake. If you dial direct, he will answer, but at this time of night the switchboard won’t put you through. And don’t worry, I’m getting new phones to them ASAP.”
“Thank you…” Mister Mann? Mann? Mat’s brain would not cooperate.
“Just call me Ryder. It’s easier. And you’re welcome.”
“You mean,” Mat clarified, because something Ryder had said was just beginning to compute, “the hospital dragged their feet because Niall and Leo are gay?”
“Like I said, I can’t prove anything,” Ryder replied.
“I just… don’t understand that kind of hate.”
“Me either.”
He disconnected, quickly punching in the numbers Ryder had provided. The phone rang once before Niall’s growly voice came the line, and for the first time in five minutes, Mat could breathe. He sucked in a shuddering lungful of oxygen.
“I’m fine, Mat.” Niall’s voice cut through Mat’s lingering panic.
Relief at hearing Niall speaking—and grouchy as fuck—coursed through Mat’s veins. “What the hell happened?” he demanded, standing up again and pacing to the kitchen door and back to the table.
Niall cleared his throat before replying. “I’m sure Ryder told you, but the perp set up a booby trap and we walked right into it. The entire building came down on top of us. Leo and I got off easy. The sheriff was trapped in the rubble, and they had to dig him out. He’s having surgery on his leg.”
“The perp?” Mat asked, but he thought he knew the answer. He padded to the back door and looked out over the yard he knew so well. Dawn was still an hour or so away. Mist clung to the grasses and draped elegantly along the tops of the fir trees that surrounded the lot. He shivered. The coffee pot gurgled; the first drops of coffee landed in the bottom of the carafe with a splat and a hiss. He watched as his mom opened a bag of bagels, sliced one, and dropped it in the toaster. This is what happened: regardless of people living or dying, you slept, had coffee, ate breakfast. For all his years in law enforcement, Mat had never felt it so keenly before.
“The fucker took the easy way out. Blew himself up,” Niall ground out, bringing Mat back from the rabbit hole he fallen down.
It may have been the easy way, but the fucker had almost taken Niall with him, and that shook Mat to the core. Especially after the conversation with his mom last night.
“Okay, um…” Mat caught his mom’s eye, mouthing “He’s okay” to her, even though she had to know already. “I’ll call Birdy in and start heading your way. You don’t want to fly with a concussion.” He looked around the kitchen as if his car keys were going to miraculously appear. “If I catch the first ferry, I think I can get to you by early evening.” It was a grueling eight-hour drive if traffic cooperated, which it never did.
“Mat, I don’t have a serious concussion—the doc thinks maybe not one at all. I was just knocked out,” Niall growled, interrupting his panicked planning. “Ryder’s got everything taken care of. He’s already on his way. He and someone else from the office are coming to get us. I guess Ryder got the short stick, because he’s driving me to Anacortes. I’ll take the ferry from there.”
If Niall thought Mat wasn’t meeting him at the Anacortes ferry landing, he was several cards short of a full deck.
“Ryder an
d company should be here in a couple hours; they’re flying and then renting cars.”
Mat didn’t go back to sleep. By the time he’d argued with Niall and finally hung up the phone, the clock had ticked over to four a.m., and he’d been wide awake. He and his mom had sat in the kitchen sipping coffee and talking about everything but losing a partner to violence.
He went in to work early and spent most of the day at the station, digging through the envelopes he’d been planning to hand off to Birdy. It had slipped his mind that today was her day off, and his other deputies were not investigators. Thankfully, the Island County Council had finally authorized the hiring of another deputy and posted the position a few weeks earlier. He’d already interviewed a few candidates.
While he was staring at his desktop, the screen flickered. He quickly clicked Save.
There were so many visiting boats; Hidden Harbor was a popular destination. By midafternoon, Mat resorted to the reading glasses he kept tucked in the top drawer of his desk. Was he slightly vain? Yes. But the damn glasses made him feel ancient.
He’d created an Excel doc and was laboriously entering the information from each envelope. Translating various scribbles and chicken scratch into data. What he was looking for he didn’t exactly know, but in his experience as an investigator it was things like this, the tedious stuff, that often led to a break in a case.
Now it was after seven in the evening, and Niall was arriving on the next ferry. Mat chuckled to himself, because apparently Niall hadn’t been able to shake his chaperone in Anacortes. Ryder Mann had been given strict instructions to get Niall home, and dropping him off at a ferry dock didn’t count.
