Danger Deception Devotion The Firsts

by Lorhainne Eckhart

  Marcie, sweet Marcie, had become his Achilles heel. Sam pounded down the hill, tripping over roots and sliding in the dirt. She meant more to him than this case—a case that had consumed him for so long.

  Onto the dock, he ran, diving blindly into the ocean, reaching around until he hit boulders, rocks, and the bottom before pushing back up. His chest burned when his head broke the surface. “Marcie!” Gasping, fear almost paralyzing him, he treaded in the frigid water. He couldn’t see her in the darkness, even with the lights around him, but he knew this was where she had gone in. Sam sucked in a lungful of air and dove down again, reaching into the shadows.

  A spotlight illuminated the dock and shoreline when he broke through the water again, this time gulping down the cold, dank air.

  Diane raced along the rocky shore, stumbling over boulders and rocks. “Sam, she’s on the rocks!”

  Sam trembled while he clawed his way out of the water. Jesse dropped to his knees on the shaky dock, grabbing Sam’s arm and leg, pulling him out of the water onto the narrow pier. Drenched, Sam slid on his stomach and pushed himself up on shaky legs, panting as if he’d just run a marathon. Pure adrenaline had him stumbling over boulders, guided by Diane’s flashlight, to a huddled form lying still on the sand and gravel shore. A thick, foamy tide brushed over the twisted fabric pasted around her legs and cast and then retreated. By the time Sam reached Marcie, she still hadn’t moved. He pushed past Diane, who was down on her knees, whispering to Marcie as she rolled her over. A low moan gurgled from her wet, sandy lips. Sam cradled her in his arms, and her eyes fluttered open. She reached up and grabbed his sopping wet jacket. Sam pulled her closer, wiping the grit and tangled strands of hair from her face.

  She coughed. Her voice was raspy. “Where were you?”

  He pressed his lips to her forehead, rocking her while he fought back tears.

  “She’s going to be okay.” Jesse patted his back and then removed his coat, draping it over Marcie.

  Sam didn’t know how he found the strength, but he lifted Marcie on legs that had turned to rubber and carried her. He couldn’t let go. Marcie’s head lolled on his shoulder while he struggled up the hill, slipping on the steep incline, refusing Jesse’s help. His legs should have given out by the time he’d stuck her in the backseat of the big four-door sedan that was parked in front of her truck, and surrounded by agents; a renewed fury over what he could have lost kept him going.

  Sam didn’t need to question anyone about what had happened. The whole night had been a complete fuckup. Where was Greg’s boat bringing the cocaine, and why had the Coast Guard arrived in such grand force without warning them of their arrival?

  The seventeen-member task force was supposed to wait until the drugs had actually changed hands—until Dan and Marcie were on the boat. But then there was no boat, and a mysterious call had pulled the team out. This fuckup had amateur hour posted all over it, as everyone appeared to scramble.

  * * * *

  Marcie shivered in the backseat of the borrowed late-model Olds belonging to Kent, the owner of the Las Seta Hotel.

  The interior light lit up a dusty vinyl interior and magnified the deepened lines around Sam’s startling cobalt eyes. He dripped from his coat, his hair, but he insisted on peeling off Marcie’s sopping wet sweatshirt. He dumped it on the dirty floor mat and helped her pull Jesse’s oversized coat on. She couldn’t remember ever having been so cold. The water temperature this time of year would have been around fifty degrees. Sam hovered nearby, soaked but unwilling to change his clothes. He leaned over Marcie as worry lines creased his forehead. “I’d rather be safe and have you checked out by a doctor. You’ve been hurt more times in the last few weeks than most people have in a lifetime.”

  Marcie was shaken by what had transpired and was most likely in shock. “Sam, I’m just cold, and I want to go home. Call Sally. She’s a natural healer, and I trust her opinion more than any doctor.”

  “Does she have a phone?” He ground his teeth after blowing out his breath in a huff.

  Her throat closed, jamming up the words she tried to speak. She couldn’t hold back the floodgate burning her chest, causing tears to run down her face. “Yes, Sam, she has a phone.”

  “Hey, hey, babe, you’re not okay. That’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital in Port Townsend, end of argument.”

  She reached out with a trembling hand and held his arm until he climbed in beside her and pulled her tight against his drenched coat. Leaning against him gave her the strength to talk. “Sam, I’m okay. I matter to you. You’ve never left me, and you have no idea how much I treasure that. I love how protective you are, but call Sally—please. She had a phone line installed inside of her house.”

  He let out a sigh. “Just one word—one hesitation from her, and you’re going to the hospital. Is that clear?”

  Tears spurted again, locking up her throat so she could only nod.

  “Let me wrap it up here, and then we’ll go.” Sam slid out of the car.

  Marcie grabbed his arm before he could move away. “Sam, what happened? There was no boat. What about Dan and the drugs? Do we have enough to expose him? Is it over?”

  Sam leaned over Marcie. He pushed her long, drenched hair over her shoulder. “We had some trouble. A group of your island residents picked the same that time the Coast Guard was in place to deal with a problem.”

  “What problem?” She focused on what he wasn’t saying.

  He glanced out the back window at the three agents standing behind the car. “Some kid has apparently been lighting fires. Five men grabbed him, threw him in a boat, called the Sequim detachment, and issued a demand to meet them halfway across and pick up the ‘little prick’—their words, not mine. At the halfway point, they were going to dump him into the ocean whether the troopers arrived or not. Sequim didn’t have their boat tonight, so they scrambled and pulled the Coast Guard, who was already in place, as well as some of our agents, leaving only Jesse, Diane, Green, and me. We would’ve been in place before you got here, but two abandoned trucks were blocking the only intersection on this island. Diane, Jesse, Green, and I had to run the last mile.”

  How did Dan find out? She trembled with damp eyes that reached out to Sam. “He knew, Sam. He knew about the Coast Guard—he knew everything. I don’t understand how he always knows. Lance Silver would’ve been behind the blocked road, those men in the boat, and the call to the Sequim detachment. Only he has the power to control some of the residents here. Dan wouldn’t.” Hope that had become such a vital force slid away. Unable to find the words, she skimmed his damp hair and his strong jaw with her trembling hand. “Will we ever be rid of Dan?”

  “You and I are done with him, Marcie. Whatever happens next, we’re out of it. You played your part, and it damn near killed me to let you go to him.”

  “Sam, what about the cocaine and marijuana, and where was the boat? Sam, please, what’s going on?” He didn’t need to answer. She already knew. “There were no drugs, were there?”

  The deep richness that emblazoned his eyes captured hers. “There’s no cocaine and no marijuana on the barge. There was a small sealed bag of bud found overboard, along with a garbage bag filled with salal leaves. But you’re right—Dan knew.”

  “You can’t charge him with anything, can you?” His face took on an odd expression that had Marcie pulling away. “What’s going on, Sam?”

  “Greg McKenzie’s boat dropped off the radar. The guy who owns the barge down there is a caretaker on Lance Silver’s estate. His story is that the barge was just purchased, and he was out testing the engine. In the morning, they’re going to be doing some work on it, and Dan’s pointing the finger at you for the small amount of marijuana found. He said you grew it. It’s your dope, and, remember, he carried nothing.”

  Chapter Forty-four

  The last time Marcie’s cottage held this many people had been when she buried her granny. Strange voices filtered through the quaint log home like an out-of-sync s
ymphony, with stress and tension disrupting the peaceful space. Marcie lay on her bed, studying Sally. In her bulky, black and white, wool woodcutter’s coat, the older woman meticulously closed up the black doctor’s bag that had belonged to her father. Marcie’s granny’s glass kerosene lamp burned brightly on the bedside table, casting a wide circle of light in the small, rustic room.

  “You’re fit as a fiddle, my girl, but you already knew that. You did an amazing and courageous thing. You listened some. There were some twists and turns, but you held true and stayed honest. You made a stand, cut his cord. I know it was hard. He’s powerful. But so are you, and you did it right even though I know you were tempted by his promises. So who got you out of the water, Jerome or Sam’s wife?”

  Marcie was drawn into the reflective wisdom transforming Sally’s light eyes. Waving her hand, Sally dismissed the question and picked up her floppy straw hat from the foot of Marcie’s bed. “Ah, posh, girl, I already know. Get some sleep. I’ll go and talk to your man out there.”

  “Sally, how did you know Elise saved me?”

  Sally didn’t face her when she spoke. She settled her hat on her head, clutched the old doctor’s bag, and gripped the doorknob. “I’ve been at this since long before you were born, seen things I’ll never talk of. I listen to Spirit, practice my craft, and I’ve seen pure evil that made me question everything: God, goodness, the universe. Just know this. There are things you aren’t meant to know, and some you are. As far as Dan’s concerned, it’s not over yet. Remember, the bad will be there, but don’t listen to it, and don’t listen to the gossip. Rise above it. There’ll be an investigation, too, but keep your head high. Your man will protect you. Remember what I told you: ‘When you react to something instead of taking a step back to listen to Spirit, that’s when you make mistakes.’”

  Sally pulled the door open and then stared back at Marcie. She opened her mouth to say something but then clamped it tight. It was her darkened eyes, the way they watched her, that had Marcie wondering why her heart hammered in her throat. Then Sally was gone, pulling the door closed with a soft click.

  Marcie rolled awkwardly on her side, snuggled in her soft pink fleece pajamas, with her granny’s Irish chain quilt draped over her.

  The door squeaked open.

  “You asleep?” Sam filled the doorway, dressed in navy jeans and a black FBI sweatshirt.

  “No.” Marcie patted the bed beside her. “I’m fit as a fiddle, Sally said.”

  “So she told me, but you’re still not getting out of bed until you have a doctor’s note.” Sam slid his hands into his dry jeans pockets and approached cautiously. He hesitated for a second before he sat down beside her, leaned over, and touched her lips with his lightly. He pulled back a fraction. He was being careful—too careful.

  “I won’t break, Sam. I’m okay, really.”

  He just nodded as he looked away.

  “Sam, what’s going to happen now?”

  He slid around on the bed and let out a sigh. “I don’t know. The marijuana and cocaine are long gone. We’ll never find it.”

  “The missing marijuana from all your gardens alone should be in the ballpark of a couple million, so, just out of curiosity, what would your share have been?”

  The dim room hid the gray shadows from his eyes, but she sensed there was no accusation or distrust.

  “You know what? Nowhere near that, so Dan managed to win in the end. When we were together, I wondered how he’d move it. I heard rumors of hockey bags dumped from a small plane to a sheep farm or of people kayaking the freezing waters to a remote northwest Washington location. Dan’s into wood. Don’t forget, he was a contractor and ex-forester in his youth. I know he loved the story of hollowed-out logs stuffed with BC bud, so I was curious how creative he’d get.”

  Anger filled her at the injustice. Why was he not being held accountable for all the hurt he’d caused? She knew this was where her faith was weak. “Sam, when I was with Dan, I did what you’re supposed to do; I looked the other way. I expected to make a few thousand and be his one and only. How’s that for pathetic?”

  “Are you feeling sorry for yourself, maybe still hung up on him? Don’t forget, I did see you kiss him.” Sam pulled his hands back and gestured wildly in the air.

  “No, God, no. You need to get your eyes checked. He kissed me, and if you recall, the plan was for him to believe we were getting back together. As much as I wanted to, I didn’t pull back. Just so you know, I feel redeemed, as if, for the first time, I’m on the right road with you. I’m angry with myself for not seeing the monster he was sooner, and I’m mad because he keeps getting away with this.”

  Sam frowned and moved closer, resting his hands on each side of her.

  “I want a life with you, and I want Dan out of our lives forever,” Marcie said. “More than anything, I want the threat against you gone, and Richard and Maggie…” An awful feeling tightened in her stomach. Richard was supposed to be out there with Sam. Even now, in the commotion, she realized Maggie and the kids were gone. Oh dear God, what happened? She grabbed Sam’s arm and tried to sit up. “Sam, where are Richard, Maggie, and the kids?”

  “Lay down.” He rubbed her shoulder through the thick pink fleece. They’re safe. Richard pulled them out after you left. We didn’t tell you because you had enough to pull off. You didn’t need something else to worry about.”

  “Why did they leave, Sam? Did something happen.” Although it was dark, she didn’t miss the way he tensed. What’s he hiding? “Sam?” She touched his arm lightly.

  “Richard found out that Dan’s involved with a group of three. Lance Silver’s one, while the other is Dan’s brother, Greg.”

  Marcie slid her hand under Sam’s and linked her fingers with his. “Well, you might as well tell me all of it. Who’s the third guy?” Marcie couldn’t help the unease sweeping through her.

  “We don’t know for sure; it’s just a rumor, but Richard said it’s a cop.”

  “How does Richard know all this?” Marcie bolted upright. “Sam, are Richard and Maggie in danger?”

  “Someone called his cell phone when he was out wandering by the road. Richard refused to tell me the name of his contact. He said if we want to continue getting information, his contact stays anonymous. Jesse made sure Diane agreed. As far as we know, Dan has no idea Richard’s been helping us. He’s just an angry husband pissed at his unscrupulous partner who tried to use his wife to commit a crime for him. I’m sure Dan will keep his distance from both of them.”

  “Sam, don’t let anything happen to them.” Marcie felt the spiral spin of the wheel of fortune; a fate set in stone that couldn’t be undone. The hurt in her stomach expanded. She had no idea how long she leaned against him, but soon he lowered her down and covered her with the cozy quilt. Her eyes burned; she was so tired, but she feared the repercussions in this unknown, twisted game, that was beyond time and her control.

  * * * *

  He pulled her against his chest. What he didn’t say, as he rested his chin on the top of her head, was how angry Dan had been at her for betraying him, how he had raged at the DEA agents who slapped the steel cuffs on him. If Lance Silver had his way, Marcie would become a target.

  “Shh, get some sleep. Nothing’s going to happen to anybody, okay?”

  Chapter Forty-five

  “Is Marcie sleeping?” Diane peeled off her coat and tossed it over a kitchen chair. She pushed up the sleeves of her black sweatshirt, her gun still holstered. Underneath her bloodshot eyes, puffy bags with a hint of gray seeped through her normally pale complexion. She poured herself another cup of coffee from the banged-up, ceramic percolator and dumped in a spoonful of sugar. Every mug that Marcie owned was littered across the narrow counter, and coffee was splattered on the stove, the floor, and the table.

  Two agents swept the front room with a handheld bug tracer. Sam had left that to Jesse, who’d demanded and coerced until the tracer finally arrived. Jesse was like a dog with a bone, convin
ced there had to be some type of audio transmitter planted. Sam crossed his arms and leaned against the stove. He didn’t know what to think, so he watched.

  “She fought it, but she’s finally asleep. These guys find anything yet?”

  “Nothing.” Diane dumped her spoon in the cluttered sink. “Somebody had better clean up before Marcie sees this.

  “Later. Do you have any news on our pirate?”

  “Dan’s being held right now on assault and possession with intent to sell.”

  “Intent to sell is quite a stretch. I can’t believe the DA went for it.”

  “Well, it doesn’t really matter, since Dan’s lawyer, ‘Big Frank’ Hawking, appeared in Port Angeles before they could question him.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. Big Frank, the marijuana lawyer? He’s Lance Silver’s attorney. Any hope for a link between them?”

  Diane shook her head and blew on the steaming coffee. “No, sir. Same with the connection to Greg. Nothing. They covered their tracks well.”

  “So, right now, the DA’s leaning on Donny, trying to get him to talk and tell us where the drugs are, but he won’t talk. I didn’t see him throw the marijuana floating in the water.” Diane shrugged.

  “Dan said it’s Marcie’s, and he’s doing a damn fine job of shining the light on her. After this fuckup tonight, nothing will stick, except maybe the assault on Marcie,” Sam said, shaking his head and turning away.

  “Come on, Sam, maybe if we can get Donny to tell us where the all the marijuana went, we can locate it and get Donny to testify that Dan had arranged to exchange all the bud for cocaine. That has some real teeth.”