Cold Evidence (Evidence Series Book 6)

by Rachel Grant

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A cold, terrifying numbness infused Undine as Luke checked for Annie’s pulse, knowing from the smell he’d find none. The scent of singed electronics hinted that Annie had died at the beginning of the storm, before the power went out, while the water was still electrified.

  Someone must have turned up the voltage to the tank, prior to pushing her head under.

  Federal law dictated that with some exceptions, homicides on Indian reservations fell under FBI jurisdiction. That would certainly be the case in this instance, given the tiny police force that likely only handled misdemeanors and low-grade felonies. From conversations with Curt in the past, Undine also knew prosecution for major crimes committed on tribal lands would fall to the local US Attorney’s Office, which in this instance was the Western District of Washington, in Seattle, so instead of calling 911 to report the murder, she called Curt, who contacted the FBI.

  He requested they not inform the local police, as the small population on the reservation meant word would spread quickly, and inexperienced officers might not maintain the integrity of the scene. Instead he asked that Luke guard the body with assistance from the Coast Guard. Given the remote location, it would take several hours before the FBI’s crime scene investigators would arrive. Parker was called for this purpose, and he and Luke took up posts outside the building.

  While the two men guarded, Undine sat with the museum curator in his office in the main building. Upon learning the news, he’d closed the museum, using the excuse that the alarm system was offline and electricians needed to access the display cases. Other museum employees accepted this story, as the system really was down.

  The FBI had asked that no one be informed of Annie’s death until they arrived. After all, they still needed to confirm the victim’s identity, which wouldn’t happen until she was removed from the tank.

  In a small tribal town like Neah Bay, everyone was family. Word would spread quickly once the first family member learned the news, and the curator told Undine he feared his ability to remain quiet if he went home to his wife and children. So he hid in his office, in silence with Undine.

  “Did you tell anyone about the case?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “No. Of the museum staff, only Annie and I knew you’d set up the reduction tank. It was hardly significant at first, and later, you asked that we remain silent. I don’t know if Annie told anyone, but I don’t think she would have.”

  They lapsed back into silence.

  She didn’t even know if the metal case was still in the opaque water. Luke had touched nothing but Annie’s neck at the crime scene. But of course, her gut said it would be missing when the tank was finally emptied. What else could Annie’s murderer have been after?

  Conspiracy theories ran rampant in her mind as she waited. Had the mudslides that closed off the town been caused by something other than the storm? The power outage had somehow taken out the museum’s generators, frying the alarm system. That was unusual. And finally, the cell tower’s loss of power, that was rare. She’d learned landline phones were the first to go, but she’d been unaware of that because the cabins at Hobuck didn’t have landlines.

  With the road closed and the water too rough for boats to make port, Neah Bay had been completely cut off from the rest of the country for two full days. For Undine, it had been a magical, thrilling romantic respite, and now she wondered if it had been done to delay notifying the outside world of Annie’s murder, and guilt and shame clogged her throat.

  The curator had told her Annie lived by herself in a small cabin on a dirt road outside the boundaries of the town. During the bigger storms, the tribal member would check on her homebound neighbors and deliver food and fuel for generators. When she didn’t show this time, people must have assumed she was hunkered down herself. Or maybe they did note her absence, but there was no way to call and check on her.

  Guilt weighed heavy on Undine’s conscience.

  “It’s not your fault, you know,” the curator said, breaking the long silence. “The storage building is a curation facility. It made sense for you to leave it with us.”

  She met his gaze. His dark skin had the sallow undertone of grief. She could swear the lines around his eyes had etched in a little deeper in the last hours. “I could say the same to you.”

  “Usually, I’m the one who closes down the museum and storage facility when a big storm rolls in, but Annie volunteered because she knew I didn’t want to miss the Seahawks game.” He shook his head. “The satellite dish went out before halftime, and the power twenty minutes later. I should have come back. I should have checked. I’d received the text from Annie that everything was fine, but still, I should have checked.”

  “It’s possible Annie was electrocuted and didn’t die from drowning. In which case, she was dead before the power went out. Even if you had come back to check, it could have been too late.”

  He gave a sharp nod. She reached across the desk and took his hand. His fingers curled around hers. It was a strange thing, to attempt to comfort a stranger, when there was no comfort to be found. This must be how the doctors and nurses had felt when she was in the hospital right after the explosion. But this man’s grief was so much more profound. He’d lost a coworker who was also family.

  Her pathetic attempt at comfort made her all the more thankful that Luke had been at the hospital when she woke. He’d been a virtual stranger as well, and yet deep in his core, there’d been a familiarity. He’d known she’d need that familiarity and accepted the job of being both the bearer of horrific news and comforter. He’d held her, which she’d needed desperately, and she wished this man before her could go home to his wife and receive the embrace he must need.

  At last, the FBI arrived. She was interviewed. The agent had already been briefed on the case and its importance by no less than Curt himself, so the interview went quickly, as she filled in only the smaller details.

  When she and Luke were finally free to leave, they went back to the cabin that had been such a lovely haven, sheltering them from the storm. Darkness had fallen, but they didn’t bother with turning on lights. They sat on the couch in the dark, she crawled on his lap, and they held each other. Too nauseated to eat, too numb to cry, too distraught to make love.

  Eventually, he carried her to the bedroom and set her on the bed. She emerged from her grief-ridden haze long enough to brush her teeth and don a T-shirt. She slipped under the covers and he joined her, pulling her back to his chest and tucking his knees behind hers.

  Hours later, she woke to the feel of his lips on her neck, his hand cupping her breast. She turned and faced him. He brushed a soft kiss over her lips. “If you don’t want to make love, I understand.”

  She stroked his cheek. “Are you wanting something life-affirming?”

  She felt his nod in the dark. “I’ve seen a lot of death. I’ve even caused it. It was always part of the job. The mission. Protecting my brothers on the team. Protecting Americans who had no idea what we were doing, how far we were pushing ourselves physically, mentally, to be the best of the best, so we could kill on their behalf. I’ve seen a lot of the ugly shit humans do to other humans in war zones.

  “But Annie, she wasn’t in a war zone. She was just a bystander. Like you. Like the others on Petrel. Shit, Undine, all I could think was that could have been you. I feel horrible for Annie. For the tribe. For her family. And yet deep down, I’m selfishly grateful it wasn’t you. And I want to make love to you, if only to confirm on a stupid, selfish, psychological level I don’t even understand, that you’re still here with me.” His hands slid up her back, under the T-shirt. A caress, but not a demanding one. “But if you aren’t in the mood, if sex is the last thing you want, that’s fine. I can be content with holding you.”

  She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his mouth to hers, testing to see if he could arouse her. She kissed him tentatively, no promises. Her tongue touched his with a gentle swi
pe. Slowly, the heat between them built, a simmer at first, which grew hotter with each silent touch of hands or mouths.

  T-shirts and underwear were discarded, and they were skin to skin. Their bodies knew each other well at this point, but this was different, this utter silence. Even their breathing was muted, as if the devil were listening and they didn’t want him to know they were seeking comfort in lovemaking in the wake of his atrocious act.

  The silence and darkness added a special element. They had to rely on touch, and touch alone, to know the other was pleased. The tremor that passed along his hips as she took him in her mouth. The wetness of her vagina as he slipped two fingers inside her.

  I love you.

  The words repeated in the silence of her mind. A chant. A mantra. A truth she didn’t dare speak.

  When she couldn’t take the intensity any longer, she pushed him to his back. She sheathed his penis with a condom and straddled him. His erection slid inside easily. She rocked on his hips, loving the feel of his cock as his pelvis thrust upward from the bed. The abrasion of her clit against his pubic hair. His hands cupped her breasts, and still, they made not a sound.

  I love you.

  She tilted her head back, holding her breath against the pants and moans and words that wanted to break free. This silence was like scuba without full-face radio masks. The darkness was the water, the air a cold current against her bare skin. She didn’t need to close her eyes in the complete blackness of the room, but she did anyway.

  I love you.

  Luke touched her clit as he thrust and she rocked, and her body coiled with pleasure, on the cusp of what was destined to be an intense orgasm. From the way his body tightened between her thighs, she knew he was close as well. His thumb stroked her clit, and she crested. The rhythm of his thrusts changed as she clenched around him, and she knew he was coming even though he made no sound.

  She let out her breath with an audible gasp as another pulse of pleasure hit her, her orgasm increasing in intensity, not decreasing. She collapsed on his chest, breathing heavily. Wave upon wave of orgasm pulsed through her as he continued grinding his pelvis to hers.

  Luke chuckled, the first sound he’d made, and rolled over, still nestled between her thighs.

  The darkness of the room, the feel of his body, the intensity of the orgasm, they all cocooned her. Without thought or even the knowledge she was about to speak, the words she’d chanted in her mind broke free. “I love you, Luke.”

  Undine pushed against his chest and swore. He locked his arms tight around her back, preventing her from fleeing, even though he wanted to let her escape. Only a complete asshole would pretend he hadn’t heard her declaration, and while Luke was certain he was on the far end of the asshole spectrum, he hoped he wasn’t that much of a prick.

  “Forget I said that,” she said as she tried to escape his hold.

  “I can’t.” But he wanted to. God, did he want to. He wanted the bliss of three heartbeats ago, when he’d ejaculated and was caught up in the heat and sensuousness of being inside the body of a beautiful woman who meant…something…to him.

  But she’d said the words. This was the point of no return, and he had no idea where to go with this moment. Once, he’d spoken first and had believed he’d said them to the woman he’d spend his life with.

  He’d been wrong. So horribly wrong.

  Twice, he’d received the words, and they’d been the hopeful declarations of women who loved the idea of being with a SEAL far more than the reality. He’d recognized the fantasy for what it was and ended both relationships.

  But with Undine, he was at a loss. Did he love her? It was hard to say, given the tangle of emotions she triggered. All he could do was give her the honest truth. He kissed her first, to stop her frantic attempts at retreat. It didn’t work. “Honey, settle down.”

  “Settle down?”

  From her tone, he guessed that was the worst thing he could have said. He stroked her cheek and slipped from inside her. He had about ten seconds before the condom would start to itch on his flaccid penis. Better settle this quick, because he had a feeling getting out of bed and cleaning up—as he’d done when he was in full asshole mode after sex a week and a half ago—would trigger bad memories.

  Women had no idea how much men’s reactions after sex were triggered by bodily discomfort. When his cock itched or was otherwise engaged in pleasure or pain, he’d have trouble giving his name, rank, and serial number. It was one reason torture aimed at the genital region was so damn effective. He might have been a SEAL, but his resistance training had lapsed years ago.

  And he’d never been trained to face a moment like this. All he could do was be honest. “I care about you, Undine. But I don’t love you.”

  Shit. He should have gone with something more vague, like I don’t know how I feel. It was the truth and less harsh. This was a six-cylinder situation and his post-orgasm brain was at best a one-cylinder engine.

  She tried to leave the bed, but he pinned her in place. “No. Stop. Dammit. I…shit. Please?”

  She stopped fighting him, but he felt the tension in her body. “Please what?”

  “Please understand that I’m a dumb fuck. But you should have figured that out by now.”

  “True.” Her body remained tense.

  “Let me try again. I care about you. But I don’t know where this is going. The original rules—this ends when we leave Neah Bay—are still in play for me. I can’t make any promises for more.” He wished he could see her face but at the same time was afraid. Maybe the dark was better. Yeah. It had to be.

  “Let me go, Luke. Please. Let me go.”

  He rolled off her, and she slipped from the bed. “Undine…”

  He heard her searching for clothing in the dark. She opened the bedroom door. Light from the nearly full moon flowed through the high windows and gave the room a milky glow. He slipped off the condom and rose from the bed. He dropped it in the bathroom trash.

  She was a dark, half-dressed shadow as she passed him in the hall and crossed the kitchen to the sliding glass door. The comforting sound of crashing waves entered the cabin when she opened the door and slipped outside.

  Much as he wanted to give her space, going outside when a killer—who’d twice targeted her—might be on the hunt wasn’t smart. He couldn’t even give her that.

  He returned to the bedroom and plucked his shorts from the floor then followed her outside. “Undine, you can’t—”

  “I’m just going to sit on the porch,” she said as she dropped into one of the heavy plastic chairs.

  “I need to be with you. To protect you.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.” She pulled her knees to her chest, planting her bare feet on the seat.

  “Tough.” He sat, and cold plastic met his bare back. He should have grabbed a blanket or shirt. Stupid. But that was nothing new. Undine had had him in knots since she showed up at his door in Port Angeles.

  She loves me.

  The thought triggered a warm sensation in his belly.

  She loves me.

  He’d never been truly loved by a woman before. And with Undine, it sure as hell was real, or she never, ever would have said it.

  The warmth in his belly spread.

  She loves me.

  This might not be a bad thing.

  It might even be the best thing that had ever happened to him. If only he didn’t fuck it up. Except, he probably already had.

  The night was crisp with low clouds on the horizon, but the sky above was open and clear, revealing a brilliant canopy of stars over the moonlit ocean. The bright moon gave enough light to see waves break both on the shore and in the distance.

  He was freezing his ass off, however, in the chill wind. He stood and plucked Undine from her seat. “Luke!”

  He moved to the porch steps and sat down, facing the ocean with Undine on his lap. He leaned against the upper step and looked at the stars now that they were no longer under the porch roof. She se
ttled against him, the tension in her body leaving her by slow degrees.

  He inhaled the salty, fresh air. Listened to the crash of the waves. “So. You love me.”

  She made a noncommittal grunting sound in reply.

  He tightened his arms around her, so thankful for this moment. This beautiful night. This beautiful woman. He buried his face in her neck. “Cool,” he whispered.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “We couldn’t get a decent side scan sonar image on the Wrasse before because it was covered by too much sediment,” Undine said to her father. “Fifty years in the strait can do that.”

  Undine, Stefan, Trey, and Luke sat in a semicircle around a table on the Nereid, colorful charts laid out on the surface. A camera was rolling. The information she imparted wasn’t for Stefan’s benefit so much as it was for documentary viewers.

  Luke fidgeted in discomfort, wondering how the hell he’d gotten himself roped into this. He was a SEAL, trained to avoid the limelight, yet here he was at the table, in front of cameras. Even worse, this wasn’t being forced on him. Like an idiot, he’d volunteered.

  When he agreed to swim with Undine in the cutaway shoot yesterday, it had been nothing more than a fun way to needle Stefan. He’d never planned to stay on for the actual excavation and filming. But then he’d found a woman’s body in a tank of electrified, rusty salt water, and now he couldn’t walk away.

  Diving on Wrasse and the Soviet sub might be the fastest way to figure out Yuri’s plan, to know what he was searching for in the deep, and why he’d wanted the case badly enough to kill for it. And so once again, Luke’s plans to leave Neah Bay were foiled by conscience and a quest for answers.

  He’d been granted leave from his NOAA duties until the excavation was complete, because his bosses at NOAA were delighted with the idea of him having a role in the documentary, complete with his Navy SEAL background and current NOAA credentials below his name whenever he answered questions and spoke directly to the camera. It would look good for the agency, and everyone believed the story of seven retired sailors taking down a Soviet sub during the Cuban Missile Crisis would garner much deserved attention. There was already talk of a big screen release, not a straight-to-TV run.