Deep Waters (The Security Specialists)

by Jessica R. Patch

  She inhaled deeply. “On your six.”

  He nodded and they left the comic-book shop, Shepherd sticking to her like glue. They made it to the car. He opened the door for her and rounded the hood to his side. Inside, he cranked the engine. “I’m going to call Tom. Let him know what happened and get some information on the club’s owner and manager. Get Wheezer on it too. He can pull off a few things Tom might not be able to.”

  Back to business. Fine.

  Shep gave her a sidelong glance. “Put your seat belt on. Last thing I need is a car accident irrelevant to all this mess injuring you.”

  She clicked her belt into place with more force than necessary.

  Silence remained until they reached her bungalow. Miss Whittle had already gone to bed. Caley switched a lamp on in the living room. She listened as he called Tom and then Wilder. She walked to the kitchen.

  His neck was red and a vein popped out along the side. His fist rested on the counter. “I’m not interested in your sister, Wilder. Give me a break.”

  He’d made that clear, but hearing confirmation stung. Caley held back burning tears.

  “She’s fine,” he said. “Shaken up, I expect... Okay. Seriously?” He groaned and spun around.

  Busted.

  He froze, cocked his head and licked his bottom lip, then jabbed the phone toward her. “He wants to talk to you.”

  She didn’t want to talk to Wilder. She wanted to bury her head in her covers and not come out until this was over, but she couldn’t. Caley took the phone. “Hello?”

  “How are you? Honestly,” Wilder said.

  “A few scrapes and bruises but I’m in one piece.” She glanced at Shep but he’d turned his back on her. In more than one way.

  “You sure?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. Shep’s kept me safe.”

  “You don’t sound safe to me,” Wilder boomed.

  She snapped. “Well, how would you know? You’re not here.”

  He sighed over the line, softened his tone. “I wish I were. I’m sorry. I just love you.”

  And she loved Wilder. But he was overprotective, and what had he asked Shepherd that caused him to respond that he wasn’t interested in Caley? Wilder might want her safe, but he had no business meddling into her private relationships. The buck stopped there. But with Shepherd standing next to her, she wasn’t going to ask. “I love you too.”

  “Get some sleep.”

  She was going to try.

  “Talk to you soon.” She hung up and handed Shep back his phone. He messed with it for a minute. “Tom said a guy named Kyle Marx owns the Nest. Google had some images. It’s the same guy I saw getting out of the car.” His thumbs ran over the phone keyboard. “Texting Wheezer to get us info on him.”

  No way could she sleep. She ran her hand through her hair. “I’m going to make myself some tea. I don’t think I can eat. But if you’re hungry, I can make you a sandwich.”

  He tipped his head, squinted. “You...you wanna make me a sandwich?”

  “Well, yeah.” How hard was it to slap some ham and cheese between two pieces of bread?

  “I thought you were mad at me.”

  “I am, sort of. Doesn’t mean I’m going to withhold food from you. Do you want a sandwich or not? You haven’t eaten.”

  If ever she’d seen a confused expression, this was it. “I... Yeah, okay.” His voice sounded like an unsure little boy.

  A sudden thought knocked her off balance. “Shepherd, did your foster parents do that to you? When they were mad?”

  He stared at the floor.

  Answer enough. She wanted to find the names of those evil people and...and...every violent thought ran through her mind. How could adults do that to a child? “Shepherd, I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Helped me in the end...to be a better solider.”

  He could justify it all he wanted. It was not okay. The urge to wrap him in a hug hit her, but she’d just told him no more physical contact, and he’d probably shrug her off anyway. Instead, she made him the biggest ham-and-cheese sandwich and topped it with a pickle and chips. She brought it to the table and lightly touched his shoulder before putting a kettle of tea on for herself.

  Shep scrolled through his phone while he ate, casting side glances her way every now and again.

  “Mary Beth knew her attacker. Lack of defensive wounds. After tonight, I’m even more convinced it was Leo Fines. She trusted him.”

  “Why would she go swimming with Leo?” Caley asked. “Unless he’s Mystery Man.”

  “Let’s say he is. Why would she kayak and swim alone at night with him right out in front of the center and dormitory? Someone would see them. And interns have said she was being sneaky and going out late at night. That wouldn’t be too sneaky, would it?”

  “So the Mystery Man theory is probably moot.” Caley wanted to scream. They still didn’t have enough to put a who to the list.

  “Based on what we heard and saw tonight, yes. I think she discovered the eggs were being poached and sold inside the club and went to Leo.”

  “So explain the swimsuit.”

  Shep finished off his sandwich and pushed his plate away. “I have no solid proof, but what if the swimsuit was placed on her after? She could have met Leo somewhere else with the information. Maybe even in his office late at night. Then she was placed in front of the center to make it look like an accident, and she drifted.”

  Caley sank farther in her chair, the tea not offering the relaxation it typically did. “And we can’t approach him with this new theory.”

  “No. And we have the GoPro to find.”

  “If she was going to go to Leo, wouldn’t she have taken it with her? To show him the footage? Or someone. We can’t be sure it was Leo who killed her.”

  “True. But he’s looking like the best suspect.”

  “He was talking to someone. He said it was getting out of control. He’s not in this alone.”

  Shep wadded his napkin. “No. He could have been on the phone with Kyle Marx, the club’s owner and manager.”

  “Maybe that’s what he was doing up there. Waiting for Kyle to arrive.”

  Nodding, Shep stood, carried his plate to the kitchen and loaded it in the dishwasher. “I don’t know where that GoPro is. Or what caused it to slip from the killer’s grips, but it’s the key to this.”

  “If she was killed elsewhere, maybe she dropped the GoPro or hid it to keep the killer from it.” She chewed her nail. “But that doesn’t make sense because she wasn’t afraid of her killer. She had no defensive wounds. No skin or blood under her nails.”

  “She might have gone in trusting him, and gotten spooked. Hid the GoPro. Who knows? But Leo Fines, Kyle Marx and even that bartender are in on this. What was his name again?”

  Heat flushed her cheeks. She’d forgotten about that display. “Rob.”

  “Rob.” He folded his arms over his chest, but didn’t press the issue about how she’d learned to flirt like he said he would. “And what about Ashley, Billy and Toby? They could all be in on this too. They can be tied to the club. They have access to the eggs and logbooks and Mary Beth trusted them.”

  She ran her finger along the edge of her mug. “But the intruder at the dorm room, the club that night, on the beach. That wasn’t Leo. Maybe he could mask his voice, but not his physique. He’s at least a foot taller than whoever attacked me and more slender with a runner’s build. Not beefy.”

  “Could be any one of those cronies at the club.”

  “True. But why do they think we have the GoPro if she took it with her to show evidence or to confront them? She must not have taken it at all.”

  “Or something else, Caley. Something you don’t want to believe. But Mary Beth might have been in on this and was blackmailing someone, and it got her killed. Now the killer is on the hunt for the footage to make sure no one else finds out.”

  Caley couldn’t swallow that pill. But then she’d never dreamed Leo was crooked.
“My head hurts.” She rubbed her temples. The GoPro was the key. She jumped up. “We can track it! They make devices to track GoPros. It’s easy to lose them because they’re used in rugged terrain, underwater, at high speeds. If she had one, she would’ve placed the device on the body of the GoPro to connect it to an app. The app on her phone would allow her to keep tabs on it at all times. And the app will be in her iCloud account.” Excitement bubbled.

  Shep smiled. “You ever think about getting a job with Crisis Covenant Management? You’d make a good detective.”

  Not in a million years. Especially after all the danger they’d been through tonight. “I don’t even want to watch crime shows anymore. I don’t know how you do it.”

  “Somebody’s got to. And I like helping people who are in trouble get free.” He picked up his cell phone. “I’m going to call Wheezer. Check to see if she has that app that links to the GoPro and if she does, he can track it once he gets the password. Might take a couple days or he could pull it off in minutes. Who knows with him? Go on and get some shut-eye. If I have something before morning, I’ll wake you.”

  She almost refused, but she was exhausted, and what more could she do but stew and pace the floor? Although, she doubted she’d sleep. They were closer than ever to discovering the truth.

  * * *

  Shep sat in one of the Adirondack chairs on Caley’s patio, watching the sun rise until he could wake Caley. The past few days had consisted of Caley going about her typical routine, trailing Leo, which got them nowhere, and checking in with Tom at TBPD and Wheezer.

  Mary Beth had the app and tracking device, but Wheezer was having more trouble cracking the password than he had with her Apple password. Mary Beth’s parents had tried to help by searching for a password book, but it was a dead end.

  Until this morning when Wheezer had called right after Shep had made a new pot of coffee at 0300 hours. He’d cracked the password. But Shep wanted Caley to get some sleep. They could go after the GoPro when the sun rose.

  She’d been through the trenches the past couple of weeks. All the attacks on her. The night at the club had almost done her in. Almost done him in too. Emotionally. He hadn’t lied to Caley. He did know she used physical contact for comfort. What he didn’t say was that drawing her to him, even for a moment, had felt oddly right. Like the closest thing he’d ever had to home. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, share that truth. And her comments about not wanting any part of the kind of life Shep lived only confirmed he wasn’t the guy for her.

  But she didn’t understand what it was like to constantly feel trapped and want help getting out of a bad situation. She didn’t know the frustration and fear of being bounced from one family to another and none of them being good ones. They were out there. But Shepherd had never once landed on their doorstep.

  Freedom meant everything to him. Helping others find it meant equally as much. It was tough and dangerous, but it also came with satisfaction. And he hoped it made up for all the mistakes he’d made. That God would see the good he was doing now and not leave him. Not change his mind about Shepherd.

  Because Shep made mistakes often. He’d hurt Caley. Made her mad. Frustrated her.

  And she’d offered to make him a sandwich. She’d shown him grace he certainly didn’t deserve. It baffled him. She was so unlike the women in his childhood, who’d withheld love from him often. In the form of food. Physical contact. Verbal affirmation. He’d gotten used to it. Tried to do better and, when he’d failed, given up.

  Channeled all that pain into being an unemotional soldier.

  Until Caley Flynn.

  How could one woman be so incredibly soft and tough as steel all at once? She was the bravest woman he’d ever met. She was kind and good and everything he’d always wanted to be. She’d pulled his past from him, and while it was bitter, it had also been freeing. The woman didn’t judge. Didn’t call him stupid—like so many before. If he had any idea how to love a woman, she’d be the exact person he’d want to make a go of it with. Longer than a day. Longer than three weeks. But her kindness blinded her from seeing the truth. He was damaged goods. Unworthy of her affection. Her grace. He wasn’t a turtle she could rehabilitate.

  There was no cure for his skin rot.

  And that’s why he refused to succumb to these feelings.

  He’d infect her.

  Checking his watch, he headed for her bedroom. Time to wake her.

  He knocked on her bedroom door. “Little Flynn. It’s 0600. Up and at ’em. I’ll rustle you up some grub.”

  A groan sounded behind the door. He grinned and headed to the kitchen. Miss Whittle had already left to have breakfast with the neighbor lady and run errands the rest of the day. Caley finally emerged from the bedroom. Wet head. Glasses. No makeup. The way he liked it.

  “Wheezer call?”

  “He did.”

  “I had a feeling. Why else would you wake me?”

  “The GoPro was tracked to Palm Lake. We can get the vicinity but not an exact pinpoint.”

  Caley added some scrambled eggs to her plate and a piece of toast. “That was her favorite place. You think she met up with her killer there?”

  “Likely, but I’m not sure what went down or how she lost it—or tossed it.” He buttered his toast.

  “Thanks for breakfast,” she said.

  “Welcome.”

  They ate quietly, then headed for Palm Lake.

  “Just park anywhere,” Caley said, digging through her purse and retrieving a pair of prescription sunglasses.

  Shep pulled into a space near the sidewalk that led into the park. Only a few cars dotted the lot. Bird-watchers. Runners maybe. The sun was bright in the sky already. It was going to be a scorcher, and rain would come fairly soon. The muggy air was pregnant with it.

  “It’s located somewhere about two miles north of the foot trails.” Shep had done research on Palm Lake while sitting up all night. Palm Lake was one of the largest maple swamps on the Gulf coast. The view from their car was amazing. Too bad it wasn’t going to be a leisurely stroll. And he wanted to beat the rain.

  Caley clambered from the car and stretched. “Gonna rain soon.”

  Smiling, Shep locked the car and surveyed the parking lot one last time, taking in the details of every vehicle. Watching for danger.

  Birds squawked and chirped. “Let’s get to it.” They walked to the entrance of the park, lined with signs that gave them instructions, warned them of gators and showed pictures of many varieties of birds with blurbs about each. Herons, ibis, eagles, wood storks.

  Salt and earth invaded his senses.

  The wooden boardwalk led to a covered observation tower. From here, Shep eyed two older gentlemen with binoculars.

  “Nature trails start over there.” Caley pointed in the direction of the tower and they hoofed it, only to be met by a runner coming out.

  “Ashley,” Caley exclaimed.

  She tore her earbuds from her ears, her sweat-soaked T-shirt and forehead evidence of a good workout. “Hey, Caley. Mr. Lightman.”

  “You really shouldn’t be running alone in a secluded park. It’s not safe,” he said.

  She shrugged off his warning with a smile. “Ah. It’s safe out here this early. I run it every morning.”

  Caley fanned her face. Already the temperature was rising. “Did Mary Beth ever run with you?”

  Ashley laughed. “No. But occasionally she’d come with me and bird-watch, shoot photos while I ran.” She studied them. “What are you guys doing out here?”

  “Nature walk,” Shep offered. A gut feeling hit him. What if she was out here searching for the GoPro? Could she know about it?

  “Lots of that here.” She checked her phone. “I’m on dive duty this morning, so...”

  “Yeah,” Caley said. “Go on.”

  Ashley checked her phone again. “Happy nature walking.” She jogged toward the lot.

  “Where’s she from?” Shep asked.

  “Georgia, actually.” S
he took the lead down the path. Trees flanked each side. A grouping of white birds with long legs and beaks tromped around the wetland. “Ibis.” Caley acknowledged the birds Shep had been watching.

  “I see why Mary Beth liked it out here.”

  Caley nodded. “There’s a place not far from here where she spent most of her time.”

  Shep walked along beside her. “Is it near the area on the app?” He showed it to her. Wheezer had sent screenshots.

  “Yeah. Anything else from Wheezer?”

  “Leo Fines’s accounts had zero large deposits. But one fairly substantial withdrawal about three days before we saw him carry the black duffel bag into the club.”

  “You think he was bringing Kyle Marx money? Why? If he was selling eggs...”

  “Just because he withdrew a substantial amount of money doesn’t mean he was paying anyone off or delivering it to the club. Could still be eggs in that bag,” Shep said. They’d never be able to prove that he’d stolen eggs unless Mary Beth had recorded it on the GoPro. “I’d like to see those journal entries Leo Fines has. The ones logging rescued and rehabilitated sea turtles. But asking again will garner another negative response.”

  “True. We could sneak in there and see if we can find them.” Caley studied the edge of the trail and took a left. “That’s the grove of wildflowers she loved to shoot.”

  Red and white ones. Shep had seen them in her photos.

  “You think after we inquired about the journals, he’d leave them in his office?” Didn’t seem smart. Shep wouldn’t have.

  “I don’t know. Worth a shot.” She held her arms out. “Mary Beth loved this spot.”

  A small area hemmed in by maples. The wildflowers from some of the photos abounded. Red, white, purple. “This place is secluded but not too far off the path. If the killer lured her to this park, I don’t see him wanting to be positioned in a more public area.”

  “Who knows where they met up. We only know the vicinity where she left the GoPro. So let’s get looking.”

  They trekked to the general area. Great. Salt marshes.

  Caley groaned.

  Shep squatted surveying the area, a few wood storks milling about. “A salt marsh. Water. Salt.”