Debra Burroughs - Paradise Valley 06 - The Harbor of Lies

by Debra Burroughs

  “That’s for sure,” Rosco shot back. “I’m not splitting the haul with anyone else.”

  “Then he started in about my sister—how he was going to tell her what I was doing, how she followed him around like a lovesick puppy and he could get her to do whatever he wanted. He said he’d already gotten to second base with her and getting her in his bed wasn’t far away.”

  Poor Whitley.

  The movement of the boat on the waves was making Emily a bit nauseous. She raised her head and pulled in a deep breath. Her stomach settled a little as she blew it out slowly.

  “He said if I didn’t get him in with us, he’d have her any which way he wanted. Ughhh! When he started going on about my sister, I just lost it. I picked up the nearest thing I could get my hands on and smacked him upside the head.”

  Eric shook his head sadly. “Oh, man. This is going to come back on all of us—you know that, don’t you?”

  “Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist,” Rosco uttered with a smirk. “The boy didn’t kill Ben—I did.”

  Rosco did it?

  “You?” Eric gasped. His look turned from angry to nervous. Was he afraid of Rosco?

  “I just let the boy think he did it, to toughen him up a bit,” Rosco said with a rough laugh.

  “I’m not a boy,” Caleb bit back. “I’m almost thirty. And I did do it.”

  “Shut up about that!” Rosco snarled. “I can’t have you going around telling people you killed Ben.”

  “Why not?” Caleb asked. “It’s true.”

  “It’s not true and if you say that it will screw everything up. I’m the one who did the deed, so I’m the one that earned the reward money. Don’t get the idea we’re gonna split it.”

  “What reward money?” Caleb asked.

  Rosco narrowed his eyes. “You really don’t know? Or are you just playing dumb?”

  “What are you talking about?” Caleb’s eyebrows grew together into a nervous frown. “What money?”

  “All right, all right, don’t wet yourself. I believe you,” Rosco said. “I’ve got this cousin in New York, see. He told me someone put a big bounty on that guy’s head, fifty thousand Gs. I thought you might’ve heard.”

  Fifty thousand? Was Rosco’s cousin planning to keep the rest of it for himself or was Rosco trying to pull one over on Caleb?

  “He sent me Ben’s picture on my phone and told me if I saw him I could make some real money,” Rosco continued. “I guess someone else found him before me and tried to kill him but screwed it up.”

  The car crash?

  “No, man,” Caleb argued, shaking his head, “I don’t know nothing about the money, but I am the one who hit him in the head with the side of my hammer, and he dropped like a ton of bricks.”

  “Naw. You might have knocked him out, boy,” Rosco said, “but I stuck him with my knife, right in the heart.”

  That’s what the medical examiner reported. The thought sent a wave of chills over Emily’s body and she couldn’t help but shiver. She pulled her knees up closer to her body and clasped her hands around them.

  “I guess I should thank you for making my job so easy, boy.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Caleb asked.

  Rosco turned toward him. “I followed the guy that night from the place where he was staying, then I saw him talking to you by those bushes next to the pool. I watched you clobber him and he went down, and I thought I’d lost my chance at the bounty money. But after you ran off, I watched him for a while, trying to figure out how I could spin it in my direction, somehow make it look like I’d done it before anyone else came wandering through there. Then he staggered to his feet and that’s when I saw my opportunity to make that easy fifty thousand.”

  Caleb let out a sigh of relief and his shoulders dropped, seeming comforted at Rosco’s statement, assuring him he wasn’t a murderer after all.

  Rosco’s gaze turned hard on Caleb, his thick black eyebrows hovering over his dark brooding eyes. “So don’t be getting no ideas about taking any share of that money.”

  “But how did he get on the deck to my room?” Emily blurted out before she thought it through.

  Suddenly, all eyes were on her again. She cowered against the side of one of the benches and tried to wrap her hands around the table’s leg to steady herself as the boat continued to bob.

  “No one’s talking to you,” Rosco growled, wagging the gun at her.

  “Yeah, Rosco,” Eric said, eyeing him suspiciously. “I was kinda wondering about that myself.”

  “Jeez, that’s simple. After I stuck him, I heard someone coming. So I dragged him over to the nearest deck and dumped him in the chair. Then I hid in the bushes ’til it was all clear.”

  “I wondered what happened.” Caleb looked down at Emily. “So what are we going to do about the girl?”

  “Emily,” she squeaked, trying her best not to sound frightened, but her high-pitched tone betrayed her.

  Caleb frowned at her and tilted his head. “Huh?”

  She drew a deep breath to relax her throat and glared at him square in the eye. “As long as you’re going to kill me, you might as well know who I am.” If she made some kind of connection with at least one of them, maybe she’d have a chance of getting out of this thing alive. What other options did she have? It was three men against her, and one had a gun.

  The men shot questioning stares at each other, which did nothing to convince her she had succeeded to connect. She tried again.

  “I’m Emily Parker.” She forced herself to hold Caleb’s gaze and her voice to stay calm, even though her heart was thudding hard and fast. “I’m getting married tomorrow—or, at least, I was.”

  “You shut up, woman, if you know what’s good for you,” Rosco said, his gun still on her.

  She ignored him. How could things get much worse? She worked up a bit of a smile and turned her attention to Eric. “You met my fiancé, the police detective, didn’t you, Mr. Malone? And my maid of honor, the FBI agent?”

  “Police detective?” Eric mumbled. “FBI agent?”

  “I told you to shut up,” Rosco barked. “Boss, don’t let her rattle you. Let’s cast off before someone comes looking for her. We’ve been jawing long enough.” Rosco turned his attention to Caleb. “You get us untied, boy, and I’ll start the engines.”

  “No,” Eric said sternly. “I want to know what you have planned for this woman first.”

  “That’s easy. Wait ’til we’re far enough out to sea,” Rosco replied flatly, “then we’ll dump her body.” He said it like she was chum to be thrown overboard to feed the sharks.

  Eric stepped closer to Rosco. “We’re not killers.” His voice sounded strained.

  “You let her live, boss, and we’ll all be spending the rest of our lives in prison,” Rosco shot back with a snarl. “Is that what you want?”

  “Of course not, but—”

  “Well, if we don’t get rid of her, that’s exactly what you’ll get. I ain’t going to prison because of some skirt.”

  Chapter 23

  Curled up on the floor, Emily was paralyzed with fear as she listened to them quarrel, hardly noticing the motion of the boat now. She had never been this close to death with so little chance of being rescued.

  “But her friends—” Caleb started to question.

  “We don’t have time to argue,” Rosco growled. “We’ve got to get going before we draw those people down here looking for her. Otherwise, we won’t make it to Boston on time, and you know what that means. The people we’re working for don’t accept lame excuses.”

  Eric cast a pitiful glance at Emily as the boat rocked. “It sounds like the wind is picking up and the rain is starting to come down. Are you sure you checked the weather report, Rosco?”

  “I checked it—I ain’t stupid. It said we were just getting the edge of that big storm. It’s turning eastward, out to sea.”

  “Maybe we should find shelter until the storm passes.” Eric peered down at Emily. �
��We can take her with us until we decide what to do.”

  Rosco shook his head angrily. “No. We need to shove off now. You know they’ll be expecting us in Boston just before sunrise. We have to board the passengers at nine, so we’ve got to get the cargo loaded while it’s still dark. If we delay, we won’t make it in time.”

  “Besides, it’s too early in the season for a really bad storm,” Caleb added, rubbing his arms nervously. “Isn’t it, Rosco?”

  “That’s right.”

  Eric eyed Caleb, whose face had gone pale and uncertain, then he glanced up the stairs again, toward the stormy darkness. Eric laid a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “We’ll be fine.” His confident words did not match the expression on his face.

  “I’ve got bills to pay, boss,” Caleb muttered. “If we don’t get this load, I’m gonna be in trouble, big time.”

  Emily thought of what Whitley had said about their mother living in a home and the expenses of that, for which Caleb was largely responsible. Was that what he was worried about? Or did he have other debt? Alimony or child support? She didn’t really know much about his life.

  “Ah, stop your whining,” Rosco hollered. “It’s just a little rain and wind. I’ve been sailing this ocean for the better part of twenty years. I know what I’m doing.”

  With her heart hammering in her chest, Emily gazed at Rosco from her spot curled up on the floor. She could just imagine that he was thinking only about the fifty thousand dollars waiting for him. A chilling sense of fear continued to rattle her. It was clear they were going to drown her at sea, if they didn’t shoot her first.

  “You’d better go up there and get us out of here,” Rosco told Eric, his gun still pointed at Emily.

  “You’re the captain,” Eric snapped back.

  Rosco shot him a cutting stare, then flipped the pistol around and handed it to Eric, grip first. “Then you hold the gun on her.”

  Eric reluctantly took the weapon and Rosco bolted up the steps. “Don’t worry, Caleb,” Eric said, glancing over at the young man, as he focused the pistol on Emily. “You tie her up while Rosco casts off. We’ll be in Boston harbor before you know it.”

  ~*~

  Colin phoned the police chief. “This may sound stupid, but I’ve misplaced my fiancée. Do you think you could put out an APB on Emily and have your guys keep their eyes peeled for her?”

  The chief laughed.

  Colin was silent. He couldn’t go into the details of his request.

  “Oh. You’re not kidding, are you?”

  “No.”

  “So, she’s really missing. How long?”

  “Maybe twenty minutes.”

  “Mighty short time to report someone missing.”

  “I’m not officially reporting her, I’m just concerned because of the weather and I need to find her. Will you help?”

  “Funny,” the chief said, “she called me about ten minutes ago to make sure I was monitoring that GPS tracker she had planted on the boat, ’cause tonight is the night they’re supposed to go and pick up a load, remember?”

  In all the furor over Evan, he had forgotten about the case. “That’s right. Have you heard from her since?”

  “No, I haven’t. Sorry.”

  Colin sighed in frustration. His gaze flew toward the docks.

  The chief cleared his throat. “Say, aren’t you supposed to be having your bachelor party tonight?”

  “Uh, that’s been postponed,” Colin replied. “I really need to find Emily.” Would she have gone down to check on the boat?

  “Did you two lovebirds have a spat?”

  “Something like that.” Colin glanced over at Peter, not wanting to have to explain about Evan and what transpired. “Have you seen any activity on the boat?”

  The chief paused and Colin assumed he was studying the monitor. “As a matter of fact, it has moved a bit from the dock. They must have taken off for Boston a short while ago, but don’t you worry. The search warrant came through and we’ll be waiting for them when they get back in the morning.”

  “That’s good to hear, but let’s get back to Emily,” Colin paused briefly, working to keep his words calm and coherent, caring more about finding her than about arresting the drug runners. “Chief, if I give you her cellphone number, can you track that?” Colin was anxious to find her.

  “You sound worried, Detective.”

  Apparently he hadn’t kept his voice as calm as he’d thought. “Can you track her?” he repeated, contemplating if they should start walking toward the wharf.

  “Oh, we don’t have any of that kind of fancy equipment in Rock Harbor. What would we need that for?”

  “Do you have any connections at the Bangor Police Department, someone who could track it for you? I’m desperate here, Alvin.” Colin cut a quick glance toward Peter, whose brows twisted into a suspicious expression.

  Peter was a reporter after all, and Colin’s statement of desperation had to be making his senses tingle.

  “Whew! That must have been a humdinger of a fight, my friend.”

  “Do you, Chief?” Colin pressed.

  “Sure, what’s her number?”

  Colin recited it to him. “Could you put a rush on it?”

  “I’ll try. What’s the big hurry?”

  “Knowing Emily, if she was thinking about the boat taking off from the dock tonight, she might have gone down to do a little snooping around.”

  “You figure she’s on that boat?”

  “She might be.” He hoped he was wrong, but he wasn’t taking any chances. “And if that’s the case, do you have a police boat?”

  “Eyah, I do,” the chief replied. “It’s moored down at the end of the dock. Are you thinking we should chase after the Hoosier Daddy? What if Emily’s not on it? Then we’ll blow our morning drug bust. We’ve got to catch these guys, put a stop to the heroin they’re bringing into our area. I’d want to know for sure she’s on that boat before we go chasing it, especially with the storm out there.”

  “Then I’d better let you go so you can call the Bangor Police and get a trace on her phone,” Colin said. “We need to know right away, one way or the other.”

  “I’ll phone you back and tell you what they find.”

  “Thanks, Chief.” Colin slipped his phone back into his pocket, trying not to make eye contact with Peter. “Let’s head down toward the marina.” Colin zipped up his jacket and took a few steps, expecting Peter to catch up with him.

  “Whoa,” Peter sputtered, grabbing Colin by the arm. “One freakin’ minute! What’s really going on here?”

  “Let’s talk while we walk. We’re losing time.”

  As they hurried toward the docks, Colin explained that there had been a murder in town the day after the girls arrived. Because the police chief was just a young guy with no experience with murder investigations, he had asked for Colin’s and Emily’s help to find the killer.

  “So instead of kicking back and enjoying the sights, you and Emily have been working a murder case all week?”

  “Afraid so, only it seems it’s also turned into a drug bust.”

  “Oh, man. And now Emily’s in danger? How’d that happen?”

  “Well, we got into an argument and she had to get some air, she claimed.”

  “I didn’t want to say anything,” Peter grinned, “but I saw that fat lip she gave you.”

  Colin touched his lip and winced. “This wasn’t Emily.”

  “Then who?”

  “It doesn’t matter. We’ve got to find her.”

  Once they reached the dock, Colin saw the empty slip where the Hoosier Daddy had been tied. He looked around for any clues, anything that would lead him to believe she’d been on the boat, but there was nothing.

  “Peter, a few of these boats have their cabin lights on. Maybe someone saw or heard something. You take that one,” Colin said, pointing to a schooner a few slips away. “I’ll take that old trawler down this way.”

  They split up and proceeded
to question the occupants, but none of them claimed to have seen or heard anything. A middle-aged man was climbing out of a sports craft, stepping onto the dock, so Colin approached him, asking if he’d seen a pretty young woman with curly honey-blond hair, about five seven, a hundred and twenty-five pounds.

  “Wish I had,” he joked, “but no.” He marched up the dock toward town.

  “Now what?” Peter asked. “The rain is starting to come down pretty good.”

  Colin’s phone rang in his pocket and he quickly pulled it out and answered it. “This is Colin.”

  “Hey, this is Chief Taylor. My friend at the Bangor Police verified that Emily’s phone is on the same path as the boat, which means—”

  “She’s on the boat!”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Now can we go after her?”

  “Eyah, I thought you’d say that. Like I said, the boat’s down at the end of the dock. I’ll get one of my men and be down there shortly.”

  “Thanks, Chief.” Colin stared out over the dark, choppy water as he tucked his phone away. “Emily’s out there.”

  Peter put a hand on Colin’s shoulder. “I heard. Tell me, what can I do?”

  Ideas swirled around in Colin’s head, trying to rush a plan together. “I’m going to have Isabel meet me down here, but you call your sister and tell them they don’t need to search anymore.”

  “Are you sure? I’m happy to go with you.”

  “I know, Peter, but this is a police matter. It’s best you take care of Camille and the others.”

  Peter patted Colin on the back a couple of times. “Good luck, buddy.”

  He began walking down the dock, back to the inn, his auburn hair darkening with the rain. He stopped momentarily, turning his head. “I want to hear about that fat lip tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” Colin muttered to himself, waving a hand in the air.

  He phoned Isabel right away and explained the situation. “Meet me at the far end of the dock, and have Alex and Evan go back to the inn and wait for us.”

  “Roger that,” Isabel confirmed. “I’m only a few minutes away.”

  Chief Taylor met Colin at the police boat, wearing an opaque rain slicker, with his portable GPS monitor tucked underneath it. Alongside him was one of his men, Officer Cantrell. The officer climbed aboard and started up the engine. “We’ll be ready to cast off as soon as the rest of the parties arrive.”