Suspicion at Sea
By
Amie Nichols
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All rights reserved,
Copyright© 2014, Amie Nichols
Prologue
According to Maritime law, any and all vessels that are able to provide assistance on receiving a signal from any source that persons are in distress at sea, is bound to proceed with all speed to their aid.
Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Maine.
“Max, Sam, we need to head back before this storm hits,” I yell at my two brothers pulling up lines. The water is starting to get choppy and there's a nasty squall headed straight for us on the radar. Max holds up his hand indicating just a few more minutes.
“No, now!” I yell from the helm. We are already starting to toss. If we don't head back now, I don't think we will be ahead of the storm.
“Jesus, Jade, relax,” Sam says, coming into the cabin. “We don't want to lose today's catch.”
“Just hurry, I don't want to be out in the storm. The hull has a small crack, remember? Do you really want to chance it getting bigger in this squall?” I have to shout over the sound of the wind coming in the bay windows. “You've got until I go down and check the seal. If you're not done by then, too bad.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sam shakes his head, returning to Max to help bring up the cages.
Seeing that the seal is holding, I return to the helm. Looking out the bow of the boat, I don't see my brothers.
“Sam...Max...” I yell, but still don't see them. I run out and see there is a cage half up, pounding against the stern. Leaning over the railing, I scan the water. It has started to rain and the deck is slippery. I run below deck searching the cabins. “Sam, Max, come on guys; this is not funny.” The boat is tossing and I hear the creak of the hull, an eerie sound, as darkness falls on us from the storm.
“Sam,” I yell, frantically running back on deck. “Max.” My voice is drowned out by a loud clap of thunder. I'm standing on the bow alone in a storm as a swell lifts the boat up fiercely and back down. I slide, hitting the railing. Where the fuck are my brothers...
Chapter 1
“Agent Ellie Marks,” I answer my phone, seeing that the call is from a Bureau land line.
“Now where in the world did you say you were heading?” my partner, Cody Reed, says into the phone.
“Bailey Island, Maine.” Deputy Director Carl said it is a great place to unwind and just what the doctor ordered before coming back.
“And you are going to be there how long?” I can hear the concern in his voice. We have been partners for seven years, and after I was shot last year he's been a mother hen.
“A few weeks, I just want to relax and put the past few years behind me.” I turn my rental car onto Harpswell Island Road that will take me over Orr's Bridge into the small town of Bailey Island.
“You and me both, sister,” he sighs in the phone. We were in deep cover for two years before I got shot. Although Cody was undercover with me, I had the hardest job. “What are you going to do for three weeks all by yourself?” I am used to being by myself. I have never had a serious relationship. And with what I had to do while undercover, infiltrating one of the worst syndicated crime gangs in the world, Los Diablos Rojos, having a relationship of any kind was the last thing on my to-do list.
“I'm going to lie on the beach, read some books, eat lots of seafood, and just relax.” I've spent the last year recovering and spending a lot of time on my psychiatrist’s couch. Not having to think about anything sounds like heaven. I've always been the type to be able to turn my emotions on and off. Having to relive moments over and over and how they made me feel was becoming more torture than actually being there.
“Be safe and keep in touch,” he orders over the phone, trying to sound authoritative.
“Yes sir.” I can't help but laugh at his attempt.
“Shut up.” He laughs with me, knowing that he has absolutely no control over what I do. Never has, and it frustrates the hell out of him.
“Love you,” I tell him before I hang up the phone. Once graduating with a degree in criminal justice, I was accepted into the FBI training program. After my parents were murdered in a home invasion I focused on nothing else but bringing their killers to justice.
Being an only child, I have no family other than an aunt I never talk with. The last relative I was close to was my grandfather, and he died four years ago of a heart attack. Cody is the closest thing to family that I have and I love him to death. He has been my rock; my solid foundation that always brings me back down to earth when needed.
He's six-foot-two, muscular with chiseled features, and the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. The ladies love him, but right from the start he took me under his wing, brotherly almost. I've never thought of him in any other way than family.
Chapter 2
I pull up to the B&B where I had rented a room. I decided a homey feel would be more relaxing than a hotel. The house is right on the beach with the front facing the road and the back facing the ocean. It is large and built on gigantic round pillars; much like the other houses on this stretch of road.
Parking my car on the road in front of the house, I throw my purse over my shoulder and pop the trunk. I balance my duffle bag and makeup bag on top of my large rolling suitcase, and when I think I have it, I start to roll it down the walk. I've always been a one trip kind of girl. I get it from my father, and it drove my mother nuts.
I smile thinking of when they moved me into my dorm freshman year. My father and I were determined to get everything in one trip. It took us forever because we kept dropping stuff and having to resituate. Laughing so hard our stomachs hurt, my mother mumbled under her breath the whole way about how stubborn we were.
My smile fades as I feel the loss of my parents. I always do this. I remember a happy time, but it gets crushed. They were brutally murdered, and the reason I was part of one of the largest and most successful undercover operations to date.
The sign on the door says 'welcome, please come in'. Turning the knob and opening the hefty wood door, I maneuver my bags into the foyer. Stepping into the front room, there's an older woman with gray hair sitting in a rocking chair reading a book. I clear my throat since she hasn't seemed to notice me yet.
“Oh dear.” She jumps at the sound. I told her on the phone what time I would be arriving.
“I'm Ellie Marks, we spoke on the phone a few days ago,” I introduce myself, wondering if I have the wrong B&B.
“Oh yes, I wasn't sure you were still coming with all the rumors,” she says, getting out of her chair with a grunt.
“Excuse me, rumors?”
“You know, the aliens,” she says high-pitched, her hands going up in the air. I stare at her wondering what in the hell she is talking about.
“Aliens?” I repeat, not knowing what else to say.
“Everyone's chattering about it, so I just figured you weren't coming,” she announces like it makes complete sense.
“I don't know what you are talking about, but—”
“Well of course you don't; you're not from around here,” she interrupts me and her eyes do a half roll. “How would you know, silly girl?”
Okay, either I am really missing something or this woman is bat shit crazy. I'm leaning towards the latter.
“Well, aren't you a pretty little thing. I can't believe you are staying here alone.” She does a one-eighty and grabs for my makeup bag. “Let me show you to
your room.” She takes off toward the stairs. I'm still standing there dumbfounded when she turns to me once she reaches the bottom step. “This way, dear.” She waves her hand for me to follow her.
I walk up behind her, she opens the door to my room and stands aside while I enter. It's a very open large room with a couch and chair, and a bay window overlooking the ocean. There are French doors leading out onto a private deck and a second room with a king-size bed and a private bathroom. It's perfect, and totally worth putting up with the crazy lady.
“You should have everything you need, but if you are missing something just ask. You're my only guest so you have my full attention,” she says, standing in the doorway watching me as I lay my purse on the small round table in the sitting room.
“Thank you,” I tell her, going to the French doors and opening them to step out onto the deck. The warm salty air hits me and I breathe in deep. I turn around to go back in the room to ask her about the aliens, my curiosity piqued greatly, but she is gone and the door is shut.
“Okay,” I mumble to myself, looking around the room. There is a safe in the closet and I place my FBI badge, Glock and holster in it. I unpack some of my toiletries and my bag to settle in. It is late afternoon, and after my flight from DC then my drive, I'm spent.
I change into some jean shorts and a light tee. The stuffy gray pant suit that I wear to work is not vacation attire. The deck is multilevel with a lounge chair on the lower section. I grab my sunglasses and walk down the wooden steps. Standing at the railing I take in the breathtaking view. There are people on the beach, but not many. A sidewalk runs the length between the house and the sand. To the left of my position, I see the path leads to a row of docks, the boats docked there are fancy, more like yachts. In my research of the island, the side I'm on is the touristy ‘rich’ side. There's a row of shops, a few fancier restaurants, and a bar. The middle of the island has a grocery store, the department store, post office, etc. Then on the other side of the island are the fishing boats, warehouses, bait shops, and such. Houses are scattered about all over. I plan to explore this whole island during my trip.
I'm just about to sit on the lounger when something catches my eye; I mean someone catches my eye. It's a man running barefoot on the sand at the water's edge. Now this doesn't happen to me. I don't notice men like this. I wouldn't say I'm a super model, but I know I'm attractive. I have dark skin because my father was black and my mother was white. I got a mixture of them, having what some call the perfect golden brown caramel skin, with dark brown hair and eyes. And when you're in the FBI you have no choice but to keep in shape, so I have a tight body.
I get hit on all the time by attractive men. Being used to the eyes of men on me since I hit puberty has made me very good at ignoring them most of the time.
So I'm a little shocked at myself as I can't take my gaze off him as he runs with ease in the sand. His tanned, wet with sweat skin glistens in the sun. He's far enough away that I can stare without being noticed. Just as he passes the B&B, he slows and stops. As if sensing he is being watched, he turns his head my way.
I don't look away as I'm caught red-handed staring at him and a smile crosses his lips. I actually feel my heart flutter and sit in a hurry on the lounger, out of view because of the railing.
What the fuck was that, Ellie?
I've never had a reaction like that in my life. After a few minutes, I stretch my neck so I can peek over the railing. He's gone. I look up and down the stretch of beach and see no sign of him. Taking a deep breath and shaking it off, I lie back on the lounger and doze off with the warmth of the sun on my skin.
Chapter 3
Justin
I still have a huge smile on my face from the stunning, beautiful tourist staying at Esther's B&B who was checking me out. I felt her eyes on me and heat burning my skin before I even knew she was looking at me.
Climbing aboard my boat, and home, I grab a towel to wipe the sweat from my face. I usually jog in the morning, but today I volunteered at Orr's Island's YMCA, teaching CPR and basic life saving techniques. Ever since I left the SEAL team, I like to do classes to keep my skills sharp. Not that I will ever lose them, I'm sure. My training was extensive and grueling, and I've saved people in some of the worst situations imaginable.
I bought my yacht when I got back to Bailey Island a little over a year ago. When I was honorably discharged from the Navy, I had nowhere else to go. So I came home after being gone eight years.
If it wasn't for my sister I'm not sure I would have come back. I probably would have found somewhere, anywhere other than the small island I grew up on.
“Justin.” I turn toward the dock, hearing a familiar voice call my name.
“Sheriff,” I greet when I turn around and see my father dressed in uniform. He hates that I will only call him that. I haven't called him dad since I was in high school. I've been avoiding Sheriff Ben Bennett, dodging his phone calls for the past few days.
My father and I have butted heads since I was a boy. My mother died of cancer when I was young. Thank God for my sister or there would have been a good chance my father and I would have killed each other years ago.
“Son, you've been avoiding my calls,” my father says, stepping off the dock onto the deck of my boat. I haven't seen him much since I got back. I stare at him and notice the wrinkles that are starting to set in around his eyes. His hair shows the gray, and he has a pot belly that is causing his shirt to be too tight. My father has always been in great shape, but looking at him now he seems to age right before my eyes.
“Been busy, you know.” I know he knows that I haven't been busy at all. He cocks his head at me knowing full well that I'm full of shit. I don't work, except occasionally at a friend's tourist shop on Orr's Island where I teach tourists how to wakeboard during the busy times. It's fun, and the college girls that come in for lessons always mean a good time for me.
Besides my pension from the Navy, my sister and I received large inheritances that were put in a trust fund for us when our grandfather died. When I turned twenty-one I invested, and now if I do need money I only take from the interest accrued. Other than hanging out at The Gull, a local tavern owned by one of my friends, Jim Dobbs, I don't do much else besides jog, swim, and tinker on my boat.
“Yeah, I know you are soooo busy,” he mocks me. I know what he's been calling about. The McGill brothers went missing a few days ago, and I'm not sure if he's here to arrest me as a suspect or ask my opinion. The oldest brother, Jade, is also my slimy, asshole brother-in-law who has slowly drained my sister's inheritance to nothing, using her money to buy his fishing boat and a large warehouse for the start-up of his fishing company.
He somehow ended up with an exclusive contract to a well-known seafood chain, becoming their sole provider of lobster. The worst part is that all the money he's made, he's supposedly been putting it back into the company. Conveniently an account that Suzy has no access to. With me constantly riding her to find out when she would be getting her investment back, she finally started asking questions. He had a whole slew of lies ready for her. Such as wanting to buy another boat, or needing to repair this or that. Even she was starting to figure out she wasn't getting her money back. When Jade started staying out all night, Suzy really wokeup. They were high school sweethearts, and I think at one time Jade really loved Suzy, but his backwoods family never approved of her.
When they were trying to get pregnant, with no luck, Suzy went to a specialist only to find out she had female problems and was the reason she couldn't get pregnant. It made their relationship even more strained. Mary McGill, Jade's mother, made Suzy feel like less of a woman every chance she got. Suzy went into a severe depression, and didn't start getting better until I got home.
I had been helping her the past few months with finances, trying to figure out how she could get her money back in the divorce. We found out that Jade had worked the business to be only in the McGill name. Suzy had even signed her rights away to the busines
s. She obviously did not know that was what she was doing. He told her they were some tax papers. She trusted him, so she signed with no questions asked. It states specifically that in the case of a divorce, the McGill Fishing Company was not subject to assets owned. About a month ago we contacted a lawyer and he told Suzy it was a very iron clad contract. And with Suzy's signature there in black and white, it would be hard to fight.
“What's up?” I ask, using my towel to wipe the sweat from my chest and arms. Grabbing a beer from the mini fridge, I tilt the bottle toward my father to offer him one and he shakes his head. With a suit-yourself shrug, I twist open the bottle and take a long swig.
“Was wondering what you think about the disappearance,” he says. So he's wanting my opinion. I was sure I was going to be arrested as a suspect. Everyone in town knows I would rather punch Jade McGill than look at him. We've had more than one confrontation over the years. When he started cheating on my sister, he hid it at first, but after a while it was like he couldn’t care less and he wasn't sneaky about it either. He didn't have anything to lose, after all, and I was sure he was going to be hitting her with divorce papers before we could. Like I said, we had been working on finding a loophole.
“I don't know, have you looked into the alien abduction thing?” I deliver my smart ass comment and get a look of disappointment.
“Son,” he says in a firm, serious tone. I know it's not a joking matter, but I say good riddance to the McGill boys. Fucking assholes, all three of them. They got themselves into something and I think they've paid the price. Now, what that something is and how they disappeared, I can honestly say I have no idea. “The coast guard played the mayday for Mary McGill, and she swears the voice is not one of her boys,” he tells me, talking about their mother, who is the worst of them all.
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