Poppy made a raspberry noise in a show of support. “One at a time is enough, sister-friend. See if he has handcuffs. Maybe he’ll need to strip search and interrogate you.”
Tru sighed. “Poppy, he’s here to question me about a dead guy I found. He’s here with a whole team. I don’t think any of that is in the cards.”
“You can always dream about it,” she said softly. “Those would be sweet dreams, my dear friend. I’m wishing you the sweetest of dreams tonight.”
Poppy always knew what to say when Tru’s mind went to dark and depressing places. When Tru went downstairs a few minutes later, she wore a clean pair of pants and a resigned smile. She found Agent Lockmeyer sitting at a table in the corner sipping from a tall glass. The rest of the agents were seated at the next table, an intimate foursome eating and conversing.
Lockmeyer rose when she came into the room. “Gertrude, I saved you a seat.”
She grimaced at the name and the fact that she was expected to have dinner with the FBI. Under other circumstances, she wouldn’t have minded, but the upcoming conversation would be designed to give her indigestion. “Please, call me Tru.” Even her grandmother went by Trudy.
Agent Lockmeyer flashed a friendly smile. “Tru, then. That’s a pretty nickname. I ordered for you. The kitchen was about to close, and the waiter said it was now or never. I hope you like chicken, and I got you a salad because they were out of soup.”
Tru was not a picky eater. She appreciated any good food, and The Abiding Tide had a great chef. She sat across from the agent. “It’s fine. Thank you.” The server set a salad in front of her. Tru thanked her and dived into the mixture of greens, which was better than admitting she was the star of the freak show that five government agents were watching and that questions concerning her puzzling visions still swirled in her brain. Lunch had been hours earlier—a hasty sandwich and an energy bar inhaled during a break in the hike. “I don’t want to answer questions right now, Agent Lockmeyer.”
With a friendly sparkle to her green eyes, Lockmeyer laughed and stabbed at her salad. “Call me Brandy, and I hadn’t planned to ask you anything until after dinner. That was the deal, right?”
Tru felt a little better after that reassurance, but she still didn’t love the situation. Gathering strings of bravado, she glanced to the next table, noting that Liam Adair sat across the table on the far side. She had a great view of him. If he’d meant to hide, he’d chosen the wrong seat, even if it did put distance between them. The other female agent, Forsythe, sat next to him. The big guy, whose name she’d forgotten, sat on the same side as her. He of the Chocolate Almond Eyes sat between her and the big one with the dark, shaggy hair. The men were generally handsome, though in very different ways, and so were the women. Like on a TV show, this crew seemed to have been cast by someone partial to attractive people with danger simmering just below the surface. Of course, it could have been the standard-issue Fed suits or the way they all seemed aware of every action happening in the nearly deserted dining room.
She forced her gaze back to Lockmeyer. “And you thought we should have dinner together so that I don’t get away? Where, exactly, do you think I could go? We’re kind of in the middle of nowhere, and I don’t have a car.”
Brandy laughed, a husky, sexy sound that was nothing like Tru’s usual snort-and-giggle montage. “It’s nothing like that. I was curious about what it’s like to be a travel writer. That sounds like an exciting career.” Finished with her salad, she put her fork down and sipped her water while watching Tru expectantly.
Okay, so this woman wanted to set Tru at ease and gain her trust. This wasn’t the first time an authority figure had tried this tactic, though in the past, it had always been doctors. They started off asking about your day, and then they ended up getting to the heart of the matter, which generally led to less-than-fun bouts of chemotherapy. Resigned to playing the game, Tru shrugged. “Sometimes. I’m doing a series on coastal bed and breakfasts. I was supposed to be finished a couple weeks ago, but views and comments on my last post went viral, so we decided to extend the series.”
“Viral?” Brandy glanced at Agent Adair who pulled out a tablet and started tapping away like he was playing Space Invaders and didn’t know how to aim. “What was it about?”
Tru was tempted to tell her that it was about an amazing one-night stand with a stranger backstage at a dance club, but she opted for the truth. While she hadn’t been read her rights, she figured that she probably shouldn’t get X-rated with the FBI. “The last B&B I stayed at had a plumbing problem. They fixed it and patched the ceiling, but they didn’t replace the rotten timbers. A guest filled up a bathtub, and it crashed through the floor into the room below, where I happened to be.”
At the next table, Mr. Chocolate Almond lifted his brows. “You weren’t hurt?”
Tru shook her head, and when she looked into those dark pools, she almost fell in. “I was on the other side of the room trying to finish writing my post so I could file it before I checked out the next morning. Let me tell you, I did not get it done in time. My editor wasn’t too upset once I texted pictures of the damage. We promoted the hell out of it, and it ended up being our most popular post to date.”
Most of the agents frowned. Tru felt like she’d committed some kind of faux pas, but she had no idea what she’d said that was so controversial. Liam looked up from his tablet, and their eyes met briefly. That sizzling thing happened again, but she might have been the only one aware of it. After all, she was also imagining the agent diagonally across from him as dessert.
Brandy sipped more water. “Did you send pictures of what you found this morning?”
She hadn’t taken pictures of the body. “My blog attracts people looking for travel and adventure, not tragedy or that kind of sensationalism. Nobody was injured or killed when the bathtub crashed through the floor. I will eventually post something, maybe with some of the pictures I took outside of the cave, but it’ll be tasteful. I didn’t take pictures of the man, and besides, I’m sure his surviving family members wouldn’t want the world to see him like that.”
Brandy leaned closer, like a friend about to disclose a sensitive secret. “I’d ask that you refrain publishing anything about this case until we conclude our investigation.”
Having been in journalism for a decade, Tru knew the request harbored an unspoken threat of a gag order. However she doubted there were grounds for getting one. With the casual lift and drop of her shoulders, Tru declined to commit either way. “What are you investigating? He probably slipped, and when the tide came in, it bashed his body on the rocks.” That’s the conclusion Gram had suggested, and it sounded entirely plausible.
Brandy exchanged a look with Agent Chocolate Almond. He made her crave chocolate cake with almond buttercream frosting—spread all over his chest so she could lick it away. Tru smiled at the man from her vision. “What does SSA stand for?”
“Supervisory Special Agent.” He returned her smile, and his eyes sparkled. “Tru, there’s more to the situation, and the details are confidential right now.”
In her attempt to not think about the incident, she hadn’t thought about why the FBI would send a team of five agents to investigate one death. She’d thought it was more wasteful government spending, but it looked like that wasn’t the case.
The server brought six plates, and they fell silent while she placed chicken dinners in front of each person. She looked over the two tables. “Can I get you anything else right now?”
Everybody but Liam assured the woman that they were fine. He flashed a smile, and though it wasn’t directed at her, Tru felt a tremor of desire pass through her core. “Can I get some ketchup?”
Agent Forsythe wrinkled her nose. “Dare, try the chicken before you smother it in condiments.”
“I like ketchup.” His smile never wavered, and it seemed to grow a flirty edge.
“Of course.” The server returned his smile with one that morphed from friendly to genuin
e. “Anything else?”
Tru ignored the server and concentrated on eradicating the small stab of jealousy at their interaction. So what if he was a flirt?
Turning her attention to her dinner, she cut a bit of chicken and loaded her fork with rice. “So it’s murder. That’s what I originally thought.” She wished Gram had been right, but then she would be eating alone and composing the beginning of her next blog post in her head. Part of her didn’t want to eat, but her stomach objected with a loud grumble, so she acquiesced.
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Tru concentrated on her food, but she could see the looks the agents exchanged with one another. There were raised eyebrows and head tilts as they had a silent conversation that seemed more appropriate for a Laurel and Hardy act. Finally they decided on something.
Agent Forsythe had been elected to continue the conversation. “What made you think it was murder?”
Had it been a feeling or something more? As Tru thought about it, nightmarish pictures flashed through her mind. At the other end of the next table, Agent Adair squirted a puddle of ketchup onto his plate. The body hadn’t been bloody, but the ketchup imagery didn’t help. She set her fork down. “I don’t know.”
“Sure you do,” she pressed. “Take some more time to think about it.”
This wasn’t a conversation she’d wanted to have over dinner. “I don’t want to think about it. I wanted to have dinner.” Her reaction wasn’t selfish. She hadn’t refused to speak to them—and she’d spent a good hour going over it with several different police officers that morning. However, the topic didn’t sit well in her stomach, and she was still hungry. Rising, she picked up her plate and glass. “I’m going to another table. Please leave me alone for the next twenty minutes.”
Chapter Three
Liam watched Tru cross the spacious restaurant and settle at a table on the other side. She sat with her back to them. He wanted to go to her—somehow make her feel better—but he stayed put. The waitress stopped at Tru’s table. They exchanged words, and the woman squeezed Tru’s shoulder before disappearing back into the kitchen.
He regarded Jordan with a steady gaze. “I don’t think she’s involved with The Eye.”
His buddy shook his head. “Agreed.”
Avery stabbed food onto her fork. “Yeah, her tolerance for the topic is weak. I thought she was going to reintroduce us to her salad course.”
“Still interested in why she thinks it was murder.” Brandy shifted to face their table. “I read the statement she gave to the police, but it lacks some key details. Mostly they questioned her about why she was down there and how she discovered the body, which makes sense given the limited background they have on the case.”
Liam turned to watch Tru. She’d hunkered down over her plate. “I should go over there.”
“Better take the ketchup.” Jed snorted to punctuate the quip. “Show her how fine dining is really done.”
“She said to leave her alone,” Brandy reminded him. “We don’t need you upsetting her even more.”
He looked to Jordan, his mentor, for his opinion. Jordan shoved a forkful of chicken and rice into his mouth, probably to buy time. Finally, he shrugged. “She’ll either find you reassuring or annoying. There won’t be a middle ground. Given the way she kept looking at you, I think she finds you attractive, so hope for the best but prepare for the worst.”
With that helpful advice playing through his mind, he rose.
“Sit down, Agent Adair.” Brandy’s order, crisp and commanding, made him freeze in place.
“All of us at once is too many,” Liam said. He had an insane urge to protect her from this unpleasantness. “Let me talk to her. I won’t mention the case at all.”
Brandy’s expression soured. “Negative. Finish your dinner. Avery and I will talk to her when she’s done eating. Women generally have an easier time opening up to other women.”
Liam followed orders, though he wasn’t happy about it. By the time he finished his meal, Tru had returned. She resumed the seat she’d abandoned. Her color was better, and the air of vulnerability had vanished. Liam was both sorry to see it go and pleased to see that she’d pulled herself together.
She folded her hands on the table. “Okay, Agent Lockmeyer. I’m ready to answer your questions.”
Brandy pushed her plate aside. “There’s a sign at the trailhead that warns people not to go down there alone. It’s rocky, and the tide comes in rather quickly.”
Tru nodded as Brandy took a breath, but she didn’t rush to fill the silence. Liam thought about what she’d look like on her knees, patiently waiting for him to start a scene. Her gaze would be focused on a point not far in front of her, and she’d be hyperaware of her surroundings, like she was now, but she’d trust him to keep her safe.
“It was just after dawn, and you were alone. What possessed you to take that chance?”
A grin transformed Tru’s face, banishing all trepidation. “It’s what I do. Haven’t you read my blog?”
Liam had looked at it. Interspersed with reviews for places she stayed were narratives of her many adventures. According to her latest post, she’d jumped from a hot-air balloon.
Brandy made an encouraging noise. “I haven’t yet had the pleasure, so perhaps you can explain?”
“Writing reviews is a small part of what I do. Many of my posts are about my adventures. When I was just starting out, I didn’t have sponsors or editors. It was just me writing about living life and trying new things. My goal was to try fifty-two new things each year, one for every week. Sometimes I did big things, like spelunking or swimming with sharks. Much of the time, I was limited by my budget, which meant I did free or inexpensive things. I’ve hiked, made jewelry, attempted a three-tiered cake, volunteered at fundraisers for cancer research or at convalescent homes—things like that. My blog documents my adventures.”
She paused and looked across the room to the table where she’d eaten. The server had already cleared everything away.
“Thirsty?” Liam came around the table with his full glass in hand. He’d drunk the pop and ignored the water. “I didn’t touch it.”
Her fingers brushed his as she took the glass. “Thank you.” Their eyes met again, and just like before, electricity jolted though him.
He liked hearing her voice. “You’re welcome.” One day they’d have a substantive conversation that didn’t involve gratitude or questions about a murder. “A half million followers is quite a feat.”
“Yeah.” She drained a third of the glass. “When I got to twenty-five thousand, I signed a distribution deal with The Eclectic Traveler, and that really expanded my audience. They cover most of my travel expenses, though a lot of the places I stay give free lodging in exchange for an honest review. I’m fair, and if I feel like a place deserves fewer than three stars, I give them the option to not have the review published.”
Liam hooked his ankle around a chair at the next table and scooted it closer to join Brandy and Tru. “That’s generous. You said the website covers most of your travel expenses. Who pays for the other stuff?”
She warmed to the topic, and her reticence seemed to fall away. “A lot of what I do is free, like the hike and the bird watching today. If the company or owners invite me, then they usually give me a free pass. If I decide it’s something I want to do, then I sometimes pay for it. The blog makes money, so it covers my salary and some expenses. Often when I contact a place and tell them I want to try something, they’ll comp the excursion.”
Her adventures, he knew, would be tax-deductible as business expenses, as they would be for the businesses that provided their services for free. Brandy shot him a look for co-opting the interview, but she sat back and let him continue. He noticed the golden flecks in Tru’s dark brown eyes and how the sharp line of her nose was accented by her round face and eyes. “That sounds like an amazing life. Does it pay better than a government salary?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not gr
eat, but when I’m home, I live with my grandmother, so I don’t really have a lot of expenses.”
Still, it kind of sounded like a dream job. “It must be wonderful to have the freedom to come and go whenever you desire.”
The corners of her mouth turned down. It seemed he’d stumbled upon a sore subject instead of engaging in mild flirtation. “I don’t, not completely. Each trip takes a lot of planning. There are phone calls, emails, lots of pieces to coordinate. My itinerary has to be approved by the editorial board. Though they’re pretty supportive, sometimes they want me to focus on something else. I was supposed to be at home for another two weeks, but when the series on coastal B&B’s turned out to be so popular, they cancelled my plans to visit Arizona and New Mexico in order to extend this tour for another month. I’m not complaining, but I had other plans. I was going to go in a hot air balloon over the desert.”
Recalling her post about dead-air jumping, he chuckled. “You probably can still do that afterward.”
“Maybe. The future is always a question mark. Tomorrow doesn’t always exist. Right now is the only thing that’s for certain.”
He hadn’t expected such cynicism from someone who seemed so full of life, but then again, she’d witnessed death only that morning. He touched her wrist, a light caress of his finger on her soft skin. “This morning was difficult for you.”
“Yeah. I thought I’d meditate by the sea, get some great pictures, and see a tide pool before breakfast.” Her gaze dropped to the tabletop. “I guess I did those things.”
“Did you see anyone else this morning?”
She sucked on her lip, a move that distracted Liam from his line of questioning. While he contemplated being the one to suck on her lip, she arrived at an answer. “No. It was early.”
“What about inside or in the parking lot?” Brandy sat forward. “Maybe there was someone else in the hall when you left your room?”
“No. It was quiet.”
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