Which indeed it might, Lexie realized, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on tight as if she would never let him go.
Zanko or another gun for hire could get to them.
Or Simon could simply realize he’d made a mistake in coming back to Jenkins Cove and take off for parts unknown.
This might be the last night she would have with the man she loved—a reason to make it memorable enough to last her for a lifetime.
LEXIE ARRIVED at Drake House the next morning in the garden center’s delivery truck. Phil Cardon was driving. She wondered if he’d noticed that they were being followed.
She glanced back just once to see Simon’s truck ease by the gate. He’d insisted on following her, had made her promise that before she left Drake House, she would call him on his cell so that he could come back to do the same.Having spent the night in his arms, she had soft feelings for Simon. A yearning that wouldn’t go away. She wanted to believe that he would stay for her. For their daughter. Give her a real family of her own. But another part of her thought that would be highly unlikely, especially in light of the Simon she’d seen in that abandoned boatyard.
Phil parked the truck and they got out, then began unloading the greenery from the back.
“Hey, did you ever find the owner of that key you showed me the other day?” Phil asked as they hauled out a couple of small balsams for the upstairs parlors.
The mention of the key jerked Lexie to attention. “No. Why?”
“Just wondering. So what did you do with it?”
Pulse thudding, she kept her voice even as she lied. “I threw it away.”
“But it belonged to someone. You didn’t turn it in to Chief Hammer?”
“It was only a key.”
“Still. The owner’s probably pretty peeved he lost it.”
She’d bet he was. But what was Phil’s interest in something so seemingly minor? she wondered as they each carried a tree into the foyer and up the stairs. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t forgotten about the key the moment he’d said it wasn’t his and he’d never seen it.
Unless he’d been lying…
Could something other than curiosity underlie his interest?
Had he told someone about the key? The owner who’d then come after her twice? Or had her assailant been Phil himself?
Phil had never had a regular job since moving to Jenkins Cove several years ago. He’d taken odd jobs, worked for her during the holidays and on big landscaping jobs. And yet he lived in a decent house, never actually appeared to hurt for cash.
Because he had a secret job that paid him well?
Human trafficking?
Were all his side jobs just a cover?
Lexie shook herself as the reached the parlors. What was she doing, trying to pin something so awful on Phil just because he had asked about the key?
Apparently the conversation with Simon the night before had set her up to be suspicious of everyone. Who would she think was guilty next?
Needing some respite from the trauma of the attack in the boatyard—a trauma eased but not erased by a night spent in Simon’s arms—Lexie determined to put the human trafficking operation out of mind, at least while she was working at Drake House.
AFTER MAKING SURE that Lexie was safe at Drake House, Simon decided to do some investigating on his own. He drove back out to the mass grave. No patrol car idled there—Lexie had told him that she’d heard Chief Hammer had stopped trying to cover the area, not only because he was shorthanded, but because no one wanted to go near the place. Even so, Simon made sure to hide the truck, just in case a patrol car drove by.
Stopping in front of the swampy area, he paused and looked around, wondering if the ghost of the dead kid made daylight appearances. There was mood lighting, courtesy of a sky that had grown gray with the threat of rain or snow, but there was no fog, no ghost. A wry smile played on Simon’s lips as he moved on, around the area in a direction he hadn’t yet taken.There was a road down to the pier and warehouse where the surgeries had been performed, but not knowing if anyone might be wandering around down there, a cautious Simon had determined to go on foot, to stay within the treeline, to remain a ghost.
Lexie had told him the warehouse was probably a half mile or more off the main road, but that was an easy five minutes or so for a man as fit as he was. The sun had melted off the snow most places, but the woods were protected, and patches remained here and there. From what he remembered, snow never lasted that long here. Not cold enough.
As Simon jogged down a path through the trees, he thought about the night before, about the promise of a different life—one filled with more nights like that. With happiness. With that family he’d always wanted. What would Katie think if she suddenly learned that she had a father she hadn’t known was alive? Would she recognize him from the market? Be freaked out? Or be happy that he existed?
Katie wouldn’t be happy if she knew about his past, not any more than Lexie was. Not that she had said so. But she’d overheard his threats against Zanko and had seen him in action. That gave her some idea of what he was. While she’d made love to him, had held him as if she would never let him go, he was certain that in the end she would do so, if not for her own sake, for their daughter’s.
Katie was Lexie’s number one concern…just as it should be.
And as it should be for him. Both mother and daughter were his concern, and as such, they would be better off if he left after he made sure that justice was done.
Not wanting personal thoughts to distract him as he neared his destination, Simon turned off that part of his mind and tuned up his senses. A moment later, he heard voices, though he couldn’t make out what they were saying, since the forest muffled any sound.
Slowing, Simon moved to the tree line where he could better see the road leading to the warehouse, which was practically within spitting distance. The decrepit old building was made of weathered wood, with boards missing on both sides. It hung partly over the water as if growing from the cattails that lined the shore. He could see yellow crime scene tape flapping in the wind.
Closer to him, two men stood out on the pier, one decked out in a wetsuit, hood, gloves, boots and full face mask, an air tank strapped across his back.
What the hell? Did he really mean to go into the water at this time of year? For what purpose?
The man jumped off the pier backwards, while the second guy watched. With close-cropped, sandy-brown hair and a weather-beaten, jowly face set in a scowl, the man on the pier looked familiar to Simon. He was dressed like a workman in jeans, heavy boots and a canvas jacket. It took Simon a while to identify the guy, but suddenly his memory kicked in.
Doug Heller. Cliff Drake’s right-hand man and one of their prime suspects.
What the hell was he up to?
Simon wanted to go out there and make the man talk, but he held himself in check. He had to remain a ghost for a little while longer.
But a little while stretched into minutes, then into nearly half an hour. The water couldn’t be very deep here along the shore, so the tank would last quite a while. Heller edged up and down the pier, apparently watching the diver’s movements. The sky was getting darker and wisps of fog were rolling in over the water. Heller couldn’t hide his impatience and began stomping around the pier, once taking a cell call, his voice too low for Simon to hear his conversation.
Finally, a dark shape broke the water’s surface. Heller threw the other man a rope and hauled him up out of the water and onto the boards. His back was to Simon as he removed his gloves, mask and hood. He was empty-handed, which seemed to drive Heller into a fury.
“What do you mean you didn’t find it?”
Simon tuned in, barely caught the shouted words.
“…telling you…wasn’t there.”
“…has to be.”
“Then you go…find…”
“…through with…”
Simon caught enough to get the drift of the argument.
&nb
sp; The man stomped toward the warehouse and only when Heller yelled, “Wait a minute!” did he turn back.
Simon immediately recognized the puffy, beard-stubbled face.
Hans Zanko!
There it was, proof of collusion between the man who’d tried to kill Lexie and him the night before and Doug Heller, one of their suspects.
Simon quickly took out his cell phone and snapped a couple of photos of the two as Heller caught up to Zanko and spoke in a tone too low for Simon to hear.
Both men disappeared into the warehouse, leaving Simon playing twenty questions with himself about what the hell they’d been up to.
He knew he had to find out.
He settled down, his back against a tree trunk, to wait and to think things through.
All along, Lexie had maintained that Heller had to be the guilty one. Apparently, she’d been correct.
But how to prove it to the satisfaction of the authorities?
Maybe whatever Heller had expected Zanko to find in that water would provide a clue…
Chapter Twelve
After the men drove off, Simon waited awhile, then cautiously approached the warehouse. Dismantling the lock only took a minute. Still careful, Simon entered and focused his senses. No one else here. Closing the door behind him just in case some cop on patrol came along, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark before moving around inside. The only shafts of light came through the high windows.
The foundation was cement, weeds growing through cracks here and there. The place looked empty but for a padded table that might belong in an operating room. The place was drafty, with odd cold spots that sent a chill up Simon’s back.How did he know it wasn’t haunted by the people detained there who hadn’t made it out?
Hardening himself against the sheer inhumanity that had gone on in this place, Simon looked around until he spotted a sheltered area in one corner and headed for it, only to find the wetsuit hanging on a pipe over a drain. The rest of the gear had been laid out on a table. He checked the tank. About twelve minutes of air left.
It would have to do.
Simon wasn’t looking forward to getting into near-freezing water, but he’d been trained to deal with any conditions, and he’d been trained to scuba dive—he’d even done so on a couple of missions. Searching for some lost object in shallow waters would be easy by comparison.
Quickly, he donned the Thinsulate underwear that went under the wetsuit, then the suit itself. Zanko was a stockier man than he and, as Simon had expected, the neck seal especially was a tad loose. Nothing he could do about that, he thought as he pulled on the boots and then the hood, except pray that the gap wouldn’t let too much cold water inside the suit or he would be vulnerable to hypothermia. He added weights and a buoyancy compensator and the tank, then grabbed the face mask, regulator and underwater light and left the warehouse for the pier.
Where to go in?
Heller had been a pretty accurate marker as to where Zanko had searched. He hadn’t quite gone to the end of the pier, so that’s where Simon chose to begin. Undoubtedly, they’d been looking for an item someone had dropped. Now if only he had a clue as to what that might be…
Simon secured the face mask, checked over the rest of his equipment, then jumped into the water, which was only about twelve feet deep here. Even so, a trickle of icy water oozed its way in through his loose neck seal.
Starting at the very tip of the pier, Simon turned on the underwater light and inspected every square foot. The only things that immediately caught his eye were plastic beer can holders and pages of a newspaper that hadn’t yet dissolved. As he went on, he found more garbage dropped by careless humans. Certainly nothing of value.
The bay’s water continued to trickle down inside his wetsuit. His discomfort growing, Simon checked his air supply time.
Five minutes left.
As he inched along the pier back toward the shore, he thought fast. If Heller had believed the lost object was still here somewhere, then Simon figured it was something with weight. And if the object had dropped from the pier, it should still be around. Tides moved things, even heavy things. But an object with weight shouldn’t have gone far.
Four minutes…
Though he kept checking at every piling, turned over anything that stuck out of the bay’s bottom, Simon was getting closer and closer to the area near the shore where Zanko had spent the most time searching.
But Zanko hadn’t searched where the warehouse hung over the shoreline.
Three minutes…
Simon tried to ignore the blossoming cold inside his wetsuit as he finished checking the length of the pier. That brought him into shallower water, where he turned his underwater light along the shoreline. Part of the warehouse hung over the water’s edge that was lined with cattails. All kinds of things were caught in the stalks, which grew to more than six feet.
Two minutes…
Clenching his jaw so his teeth wouldn’t chatter, he moved under the edge of the warehouse and searched and pulled at things woven into the shoreline vegetation. Frustration ate at him as he struck out again.
One minute…
And then he spotted something big and shiny near the edge of the warehouse, close to where the road above ended. He raced to the spot.
Zero minutes.
Simon surfaced and gasped, tried to shake off the chill now affecting his efficiency. Tempering his breath, he took a deep one and dived. He got a gloved hand on the object that was long and heavy, but the cattails seemed to have grown around it, clutching it. He started ripping at the vegetation, but before he could free the object he had to come up for more air.
Down he went a second time and nearly managed to pull the object free.
A third dive and he succeeded, taking possession of a metal object shaped like a long cup.
Surfacing with no air to spare, Simon took a moment and simply breathed. Tendrils of fog snaked along the water and up over the shoreline. The outside air had changed, hitting him in gusts. About to climb out onto shore, he stopped when he heard a vehicle moving toward him. Grasping the trophy to his chest, he threw himself back into the cattails close to the warehouse and listened, ready to sink below water level if necessary.
The vehicle crept closer and Simon’s pulse thundered, the extra adrenaline warming him. Had Heller and Zanko returned to renew their search for the trophy? Or had someone else come out here to look for it?
Simon waited chin-deep in the water for what felt like forever, but was actually only a few minutes. The vehicle never stopped, merely circled and moved away. Simon moved, too, so he could get a look at the vehicle that turned out to be a Jenkins Cove patrol car. Apparently, the local cops were still on the job, after all.
Heaving a sigh of relief that he hadn’t been discovered, Simon lifted the trophy to see exactly what the hell he’d found. Inscribed on the base of the cup was the name of the race—UK Challenge Cup—and the name of the winner.
Clifford Drake.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Lexie asked when her mother walked into the ballroom with Katie in tow.
“Nice to see you, too, sweetheart.”Lexie hugged her mother, who was several inches shorter with a soft, round body. Her glasses were pushed up into her dark hair threaded with gray, and she wore a smear of flour on one cheek.
“It is nice to see you. Just a surprise.” One Lexie didn’t appreciate at this moment, considering the circumstances. Besides, she was just about to call Simon again. He hadn’t picked up the last two times she’d tried to get him and she was worried. She hugged her daughter and reminded herself that at least Katie’s bodyguard had their back. “Hey, kiddo, how’s the cookie-making?”
“This morning, Nana showed me how to make six kinds of cookies from one dough recipe.”
“Well, good. I expect you’ll keep us well-stocked with goodies from now on.” She looked back to her mother. “So what’s going on?”
“We decided to take a break from baking. Katie wanted
to stop at home so she could get her iPod and some fresh clothes. And then she insisted that we come here so she could get a sneak peak at what you’ve done with the place. I was curious myself. You’ve outdone yourself, Lexie. It never looked this good when Jonathan was alive and your dad and I did the decorating.”
Lexie gave her mother another hug. “You exaggerate, but thanks.”
“This looks really rad, Mom.” Katie twirled and dipped in the center of the ballroom as if she were dancing with an invisible partner. “Next year you’ve got to hire me to help.”
Lexie started. “You’re asking me for a job?” Her daughter was growing up way too fast. “Aren’t you a little young to be worrying about working?”
“I will be a teenager by then,” Katie reminded her, her snub nose in the air. “Teenagers have needs that allowances just don’t cover.”
“Okay,” Lexie said, holding herself back from laughing, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She spent the next ten minutes showing her mother and daughter every public room so they could see everything. She even had one of the lighting guys turn on the snow effect.
But all the while she had to hold her anxiety in check. What was Simon up to? Had he gotten into the warehouse?
When Mom and Katie left with hugs and kisses all around, Lexie pulled out her cell and tried again.
No answer.
A chill settled in her middle and she was suddenly afraid that Simon had gotten more than he’d bargained for.
What in the world was going on?
THOUGH SIMON DIDN’T KNOW the significance of the trophy being in the water, he was certain it was what Heller had sent Zanko down to find. Thinking it wouldn’t do to mess with any prints on the metal, just in case they would prove to be significant, he kept the diving gloves on until he got back into the warehouse and shoved the trophy into a ditty bag that had been left with the diving gear.
Then he stripped, dried himself off as best he could, and dressed in his blissfully warm clothes. Even so, he was cold to the core and trying not to shake inside. A jog back to the truck should warm him.Not wanting anyone to figure out what he’d been up to, he put everything back the way he’d found it. Hopefully, the damp undergarments he left folded on the table wouldn’t give him away.
Christmas Delivery Page 12
