The Cottages on Silver Beach

by RaeAnne Thayne

  I disobeyed a direct order, interfered in a case that wasn’t my jurisdiction, blew up a months-long investigation by another agency and ended up killing a man.

  She swallowed. “Wow. When you screw up, you don’t mess around.”

  “One might even call me an overachiever in that department.”

  “Yes. One might.”

  She might have thought he smiled a little in the moonlight before his expression grew grave again.

  “The situation was a disaster from the start.”

  “What happened?”

  “I usually investigate fraud and money laundering but for the last few months I’ve been part of a task force investigating a string of luxury car thefts in the Denver area. It was a well-organized ring that could steal a high-end car, completely alter the VIN numbers and ship it by train to the coast, where it would be sent to China within twenty-four hours. We had an undercover guy on the inside who managed to contact us about a conversation he had been a party to that had nothing to do with our case. He and one of our subjects met up with a worm by the name of Louie Cho, who was in the market for a Lotus for a relative back in China. Turns out Cho let slip he was expecting a major shipment that night and would be able to pay cash the next day.”

  “Drugs?”

  “That’s what we thought at first but it didn’t take long for us to figure out he wasn’t talking about bringing in drugs.” Elliot paused and she thought for a moment he wasn’t going to tell her the rest. When he spoke, his voice sounded reluctant, as if the words were being yanked out of him one by one.

  “He was talking about underage girls, at least fifteen of them, smuggled in from rural China, to be dispersed the next day throughout Colorado. Sex trafficking.”

  Nausea curled through her at the abhorrent words. “Oh, no.”

  “Our guy on the inside had a location where they were spending the night. We reported it to the special agent in charge, who relayed the info to the DEA. We started working on a warrant and began assembling a team, ready to go in hot and make a rescue using our intel.”

  He paused and she could see his jaw harden.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Interagency politics. Within the hour, the DEA shut us down. Turns out that while we were looking into the stolen vehicles, they had a simultaneous investigation into a major heroin distribution ring and Cho was a confidential informant for them. If the FBI raided the place to save a dozen girls who were in the country illegally in the first place, it would jeopardize their case and they would lose all their progress of the last six months. We argued until we were blue in the face. There would be no better time to rescue the girls than right then, before they were dispersed throughout the state. After that, we didn’t have a chance of finding them all. In the end, we were ordered to stand down.”

  “But you didn’t.” She knew enough about Elliot’s stubbornness to guess that, even if he hadn’t already dropped hints.

  “I couldn’t. Our undercover guy risked his life to take a secret video with his phone and email it to me. I saw them. Girls jammed into the back of a semi trailer. These were just kids. Scared girls, some just a few years older than Chloe back there.”

  Sometimes she couldn’t bear thinking about the ugliness in the world.

  “I became an FBI agent because I wanted to make a difference. I kept asking myself what my father would have done in my place.”

  John Bailey had been chief of police in Haven Point for decades. During those brief months she had been dating Wyatt, he had always treated her with warmth and kindness.

  The entire Lake Haven community had grieved when he suffered a brain injury after a shoot-out with a burglary suspect.

  His family had lost so much—first Wyatt, then John, though Elliot’s father hadn’t died until years after his initial injury. Instead, he had spent his remaining years in a nursing home, unable to walk or talk.

  No wonder Elliot hadn’t shared anything about his injury with his family. He was protecting them, she realized, from the ugliness that had touched him.

  “What did you do?” she asked.

  “For the first time in my fourteen-year career at the FBI, I disobeyed direct orders. I organized the raid, figuring we could rescue the girls then sort it out later. We had a chance, so we took it. The only trouble is, Cho came back unexpectedly, just as we were loading the last girl into the van. He started spraying us with gunfire.”

  “So you killed him.” She couldn’t quite believe she could utter those particular words in such a matter-of-fact tone.

  For an instant, Elliot’s features briefly looked tortured, yet they returned to his usual reserve so quickly she wondered if she had imagined it. “I didn’t have a choice. He was firing on us and on the girls. He was going to kill someone.”

  His jaw worked. “I couldn’t get a clear shot without leaving whatever small cover we had with the van. Somehow he hit me in that brief instant.”

  Though he didn’t fill in the blanks more than that, Megan knew Elliot well enough to guess at the rest. No doubt he had risked his life in order to save the others. The Baileys were predictable to a one.

  His family protected and served, had done the same for generations. Wyatt used to say it was the Bailey family curse.

  “I see why you’re keeping the truth to yourself. Especially with your family’s history. Charlene would be beside herself.”

  “She’s been through enough. She doesn’t need to know.”

  “So you told her you had bone spurs removed.”

  “It wasn’t a complete lie. I did. I just didn’t tell her I also had a slug removed from a semiautomatic weapon fired by a sadistic, homicidal bastard.”

  Whom he had killed. She shivered a little as they reached Silver Beach. The moon hung low above the mountains, casting a pearly half-light across the water. The lovely, calming scene seemed in stark contrast to the ugliness of his words.

  “You’d better take care of your dog,” Elliot said as they approached her cottage. “Sounds like he knows you’re out here.”

  She could hear Cyrus’s little hey-Mommy bark from inside.

  “You can’t stop there. Let me put my gear inside and let Cyrus out. Then I need to hear the rest of the story.”

  “I’ve told you all the important points.”

  “You didn’t tell me what happened next. Hold on.”

  She hurried up the steps, aware of him following behind with her tripod. She opened the door and was greeted immediately by Cyrus’s writhing delight.

  “Hey, buddy. How was your night? I need a second. Then I’ll give you the love.”

  She set her camera gear inside then took the tripod from Elliot, careful to keep her wayward fingers a safe distance away from him. It wasn’t an easy task, especially when she had a powerful urge to tuck them inside his tailored gray jacket.

  He had loosened his tie, she saw, something she hadn’t noticed on the walk over from Serenity Harbor. He looked sexy and rumpled and...tired.

  All her insides seemed to have turned gooey and warm. With dismay, Megan turned to the ready distraction of Cyrus, picking him up to give her hands something to do. He licked at her face and wriggled with joy, as if she had been gone months instead of only a few hours.

  “Can I grab a beer for you?” she asked, once she had cuddled her dog sufficiently for both of them.

  “No. I had a glass of champagne at the party and a finger of scotch. That’s more than enough alcohol for me on a given night. There’s always a chance I might need to take a pain pill later.”

  She had a strong feeling he wouldn’t, whether he needed it or not.

  “Do you...want to sit down?”

  Her open living room and kitchen wasn’t a huge space and she had made it smaller by filling the periphery with planters containing favorite flowers, props used for portrai
t shots and her kitchen herb garden. She had created a cozy conversation nook with a small sofa and a comfortable armchair positioned by the front window that overlooked the beach, but Elliot made no move to sit there.

  “Seems like a shame to waste one of our perfect Haven Point evenings—the rare night when the weather is good, yet the tourists aren’t here being stupid.”

  “I need those tourists,” she reminded him.

  “Most of the town needs them. That doesn’t mean residents can’t enjoy shoulder seasons when they’re not here.”

  “Sure. Let’s go outside.”

  As soon as they walked back out to her porch with the dog leading the way, she realized the problem. All she had out here was a porch swing. She would have no choice but to sit beside him.

  He was investigating her brother.

  Unfortunately, the reminder didn’t have the cooling effect she might have anticipated. Luke and his missing wife seemed to have slid to the back of her mind.

  After a moment’s hesitation, she plopped onto the cushioned swing to a rattle of chains.

  “Will that hold us both?” he asked, doubt in his voice.

  “Oh, yes. It’s secured to the joist.”

  He hesitated a moment more then sat down beside her. The chains clanked together from the movement but the swing didn’t even wobble with the added weight.

  The scent of his aftershave, cedar and citrus with a spicy undertone, drifted to her on the night air. They were only inches apart, so close she could feel his shoulders move with each breath.

  Megan scooped up Cyrus and held him tightly in her lap. “Then what happened? You disobeyed orders, you rescued the girls and you shot the bad guy. Not a bad night’s work, I suppose.”

  His mouth quirked a little, as if he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “One would think, right? But here’s a little something you might not know about the Federal Bureau of Investigation. They tend to frown on renegades. Outliers. It wasn’t the fact that I shot a man, though no one was particularly happy about that. I disobeyed a direct order and ignored the chain of command. In the process, I risked the girls and two other agents in the FBI, not to mention our operative on the inside, though he managed to protect his cover.”

  “What about the DEA?”

  “Oh, they’re good and pissed at me. I killed one of their informants. Yeah, he was a scumbag, but he was their scumbag. Turns out their case had already been all but wrapped up, even without Cho, so they still managed to make several significant arrests and shut down the drug ring.”

  “A win all around, then.”

  “Not quite. I still disobeyed orders, and a man died.”

  She heard the grim note in his voice and suspected that night still haunted him. Maybe during all these late nights, he hadn’t been burning the midnight oil, working on his book, but brooding instead about the life he had taken, no matter that it sounded as if the man provided no value to the world.

  “What will happen next for you?”

  “I’ve been suspended for a month and I still have to face a disciplinary review board. I may be done at the Bureau—and that’s before you factor in whether my shoulder heals correctly and whether I can still pass all the firing range requirements.”

  All because he had tried to do the right thing. “Oh, Elliot. I’m sorry. That’s so unfair. Isn’t it your job to protect the innocent? Those girls had no one else but you! I think you’re a hero. I’m only sorry you have chosen not to tell everyone about it. Your family should be celebrating what you did.”

  He was silent for a long moment. In the dim light on the porch, she saw surprise and something deeper in his eyes.

  “Thank you. I appreciate the vote of confidence,” he finally said, and the raspy note in his voice made her shiver.

  “It won’t do you much good. My vote doesn’t particularly count. Who cares what an innkeeper in Haven Point, Idaho, thinks?”

  “I do,” he answered softly.

  She gazed at him across the width of the porch swing. In the moonlight, his somewhat austere features looked softer, somehow. He looked younger, less severe. Far more approachable.

  Gorgeous.

  A low ache of awareness curled through her. It would be so very easy to reach across that short distance and touch him. She was overwhelmed by the urge to tangle her fingers with his and tug him toward her.

  She wanted him to kiss her.

  The realization swept over her, fierce and shocking and somehow right at the same time. What would that mouth taste like? Would he kiss with the serious focus he applied to everything else in his world?

  He gazed down at her and for an instant she thought she saw something leap into his gaze. A yearning that matched her own.

  He wanted to kiss her as well. His pupils dilated slightly and he swallowed hard. His fingers flexed on his leg.

  “What time are you leaving tomorrow?”

  The abrupt change of topic left her a little disoriented. He was so very hard for her to read. Had she imagined that expression? Or was he simply an expert at veiling his emotions?

  Either way, she had to give herself a few moments before she could formulate her stray thoughts into a coherent response.

  “Early. Probably before seven. Everything’s loaded up into my SUV now. I’ll try not to make too much noise to disturb you.”

  “I’m not worried about that. I’m an early riser.”

  “I’ve noticed.” He went to bed late and was up early, heading out before sunrise to run around the lake. “I’ve wondered if you even get any sleep at all.”

  “Not as much as I need. And the only reason you know that is because you’re up at all hours of the day and night as well. Don’t think I haven’t seen your lights on over here.”

  That soft, seductive awareness curled through her again to think about him gazing at her cottage from his, maybe wondering about her as he stood at his window. “Things have been a little crazy lately while I’ve been busy preparing for the gallery opening. They’ll settle down now, especially after I go to Hope’s Crossing tomorrow to take the prints.”

  He was silent, the only sound in the night that rhythmic rattle of the chains and the quiet lick of the water on the shore.

  “How would you feel about having a traveling companion?”

  * * *

  AS SOON AS Elliot asked the question, he knew it was a mistake. He hadn’t meant to blurt it out quite like that, raw and unadorned, but the idea had been stewing since she told him she was leaving for Hope’s Crossing the next day.

  He should have let it percolate a little more—and then slammed the lid on it and shoved it in a cupboard, never to see the light of day.

  What was he thinking? Under what crazy moon did he ever think it might be a good idea to be shut up in a car with Megan Hamilton for eight hours at a stretch as they drove to Colorado together—and then back again?

  It would be a huge mistake, especially with this low heat that simmered inside him whenever he was around her.

  “You want to go to Hope’s Crossing with me?” she said slowly.

  Hearing her say the words aloud only reinforced what a wild idea it was. He did want to go to Hope’s Crossing, but he didn’t necessarily need to go right now, with Megan.

  “There’s a person I would like to interview who might have information about Elizabeth’s case.”

  She tensed. “In Hope’s Crossing?”

  Her pudgy, smushed-face dog lifted his head and whined at her sharp tone.

  “I’ve been poring through my father’s files on Elizabeth’s case and found a...possible lead. Someone who might have seen her that night.”

  He chose his words with care. In truth, he wasn’t exactly sure what this Peggy Burnett might have seen, but he certainly found the brief tip report he had discovered the night before buried in the fil
es intriguing enough that he knew he couldn’t leave that particular stone unturned.

  “What sort of witness? What does he have to say?”

  “I don’t know yet. My father’s paperwork isn’t as...complete as I might have wished.”

  The investigation had huge, gaping holes, but he didn’t tell her that. He found them heartbreaking, this further evidence that his father’s mental acuity and job performance both had been slipping in his last months as police chief.

  Clearly, the sheriff’s department had tried to fill in some of those gaps after taking over the case, but for reasons he didn’t understand, no one had followed up with this particular tip. The report had actually been misfiled, tucked into the middle of a stack of interviews conducted among neighbors of Luke and Elizabeth.

  “I do know he is a she. A long-haul truck driver who might have seen something that night. I won’t really know until I talk with her. I could take a statement over the phone but I always prefer face-to-face interviews whenever possible.”

  In person, he could ascertain things like body language and facial tics that wouldn’t be clear on the telephone. Through that body language, he could also pick up on avenues he needed to pursue, things he wouldn’t necessarily sense over the phone.

  “And she lives near Hope’s Crossing? That’s an odd coincidence.”

  “About forty miles from there. I was planning to talk to her after I return to Denver in a few weeks, but since you’re going to the gallery anyway, I could keep you company, maybe take turns driving.”

  Yeah, it was a crazy idea and he didn’t know why he had suggested it. Megan looked as baffled as he was.

  Whether responding to her unease or just bored with the conversation, her dog wriggled to get down from her lap and curled up on the braided rug in front of the door.

  “I’m planning a quick trip down and back but I’ll still be gone for at least two days,” she finally said. “Don’t you have a deadline?”