“Everything is exactly the same except for the levels of arsenic and lead and this summary paragraph.” Tessa looked up.
“One of these must be fake.”
“Why would Jason have conflicting copies of Roger Duvall’s soil reports hidden in his duct?”
“There are only two reasons I can think of to hide fake environmental reports. Fraud and blackmail.”
“Since Jason hid the documents rather than destroy them, I’d bet on blackmail. I need to make some calls.” Tessa pulled out her phone and touched the screen. “But who was blackmailing whom?”
“Since Roger is the property owner with financial vulnerability, and Jason is the one who is dead, I’d bet on Jason being the blackmailer.”
While Tessa made her calls, Logan went outside for some air. He walked down the driveway. Trees lined the road in both directions. Roger could have come to Jason’s house, killed him, and left without anyone seeing him. He would have returned after dark to take the body out to sea.
Logan shoved his hands into his pockets. The bright sunlight warmed his back.
Tessa joined him a few minutes later. “I spoke with the manager of the environmental testing lab. The original report showed elevated levels of arsenic and lead at the Smuggler’s Point Farm property. The second report is a fake. Apparently, high levels of arsenic and lead are common in old apple orchards from pesticides used years ago. Cleanup can cost a million dollars an acre.”
“I’d say we found a damned good motive.”
Tessa’s head tilted. She crouched low and examined one of the boulders that flanked the driveway entrance. “Check this out.”
Logan bent and studied the mark, a long scrape line of color. “That looks like paint. Dark blue or black maybe?”
“It’s metallic, like vehicle paint.” Tessa rocked back on her heels. “It would be easy to hit one of these boulders if you were rushing out of the driveway.”
Sunlight glinted on the rock.
“It’s purple,” Logan said.
“Purple?” Tessa stared at the scrape.
Logan remembered Roger’s purple shirt and purple high-tops. “What color vehicle does Roger Duvall drive?”
“Let’s find out.” Tessa led the way back to her SUV, where she used the dashboard computer to access Roger’s car registration. “He drives a purple Porsche Cayenne.”
Logan used his smartphone to google the Porsche. “I’ll be damned. The Cayenne is available in Purpurite Metallic.”
“That bastard.” Tessa’s eyes narrowed. “Metallic purple is a rare color for a car. We’ll sample the paint on the rock and send it to the lab for testing. They should be able to match it to the exact color Porsche uses on the Cayenne.”
“Can you arrest him now?”
“I don’t want to rush into it before I have enough evidence to make the charge stick.” Tessa tilted her head. “We know Roger argued with Jason shortly before he was murdered. Roger said he’s never been to Jason’s office, but we have evidence that suggests he was lying. We also have the real and fake soil reports for Roger’s property hidden in Jason’s office. I’d like to find the murder weapon or drops of Jason’s blood on Roger’s clothes or in his vehicle.”
“What next?”
She turned and strode for her SUV. “We’re going to bring Roger into the station for questioning and get a search warrant for his property. The murder scene was messy. Cross your fingers that Roger brought home some of Jason’s blood.”
9
Tessa pulled up in front of the Smuggler’s Inn and scanned the property in the waning light. “I wish we had more daylight left.”
It was just after four o’clock, nearly sunset in December.
“Do you see his Porsche anywhere?” she asked.
“No.” Logan pointed through the windshield. “There’s a four-bay garage behind the house. Maybe it’s in there.”
On the way to the inn, Tessa had stopped at the station to call the sheriff and fill out the paperwork for the search warrant. Her goal was to question Roger right up until the warrant was issued, which shouldn’t take too long on a weekday. She wanted to take Roger by surprise. At this point, he had no clue they were focused on him as Jason’s killer, and she wanted to keep it that way. She didn’t want to give Roger time to destroy any evidence. She wanted him sitting pretty, thinking he’d gotten away with the murder.
She had called the ferry station. No Porsche Cayenne had boarded the ferry that morning. She’d given the operators Roger’s description and instructed them to be on the lookout for him. They would not leave port with him on the boat.
“Are you going to question him here or take him to the station?” Logan asked.
“We’ll take him to the station and make him sweat.” Tessa put the vehicle in park.
They got out of the car just as the sun disappeared below the horizon. Her phone beeped with a text. She read the screen. “Bruce says Marybeth is unconscious but still fighting. The doctors won’t give odds on her chances of survival.”
“Still alive is a good sign.”
The temperature dropped. Tessa shivered and zipped her jacket higher as they walked to the front door. Standing to one side, Tessa motioned for Logan to stand away from the center of the doorstep. Then Tessa knocked, but the house remained quiet. She rapped louder. As if in answer, the sound of a nail gun firing drifted across the yard.
Tessa turned and left the step. She and Logan followed the noise to the same cabin Roger had been working in the day before.
“The cabin has a rear exit,” Tessa said in a low voice. “Would you go around back in case Roger bolts?”
“Of course.” Logan headed around the small building.
The front door was propped open. Tessa peered through the doorway. Roger stood on the top rung of a four-step ladder, using a nail gun to put up crown molding. A bandage on his hand made his grip on the wood awkward, but he was managing.
He could have bashed Marybeth over the head with little difficulty.
Tessa knocked on the doorframe. Roger glanced over his shoulder and bobbled the wood. The ladder tipped, and he put a hand on the wall to steady himself.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Tessa said from the doorway. “I have some follow-up questions.”
Roger blinked, and his response was one heartbeat too late. “All right.”
Tessa stepped over the threshold. She positioned herself between Roger and the front door.
He descended the ladder and stood with his back against the wall, clutching the nail gun in front of him. “How can I help you?”
“Please put down the nail gun,” Tessa said.
“Why?” Roger’s eyes darted to the door. Was he contemplating rushing her?
Tessa’s voice became more serious. “Because accidents happen.”
Roger hesitated, and when he finally set down the nail gun on the top rung of the ladder, it remained within reach.
“Step away from the nail gun,” Tessa said.
Sweat broke out on Roger’s brow, but he remained where he was. His gaze met Tessa’s and went cold.
He knows.
“What do you want to know?” he asked.
“Move away from the nail gun.” Tessa’s voice shifted from request to command.
Roger’s gaze darted to the door again. “Why don’t you ask your questions?”
“Move away from the nail gun.” Tessa’s hand hovered over her weapon.
Surprise flickered in his eyes, then panic. He licked his lips.
Tessa pulled her weapon. “Now.”
The door banged open. Abby skipped into the cabin, a cookie in her hand. “Roger! I’m home, and Mom made chocolate chip today.”
Tessa made a grab for the child, but Abby was moving fast. She blew past Tessa and slid to a stop in front of Roger, her head tilting in confusion.
No!
Roger snagged the little girl by the arm and hauled her in front of his body. He whipped out his pocketknife and place
d the blade at her throat, a fraction of an inch from her smooth skin.
Tessa could not shoot at him for fear of hitting the child. Helplessness flooded her.
“That hurts!” Abby shouted, squirming.
He shook her. “Be still.”
She froze, her eyes opening wide with terror as she tried to pull her head away from the knife. “Let me go.”
The quiver in her voice broke Tessa’s heart.
“Don’t move, Abby,” Tessa said in a calming tone. “It’s going to be all right.”
Tessa wanted to believe Roger wouldn’t hurt a child he’d befriended. But he was a violent, cornered man. It was possible he’d killed Jason in a fit of rage, but Marybeth’s attack had been cold and calculated.
Abby began to tremble, and a tear slid down her cheek. “Why are you hurting me?” she wailed, her voice full of hurt and betrayal. “We’re friends.”
10
A child’s cry carried through the door. Logan drew his weapon and turned the knob slowly, silently, revealing a tiny mudroom. He crept past a stacked washer and dryer into a corridor. As he stole down the hall, he glanced into two open doorways. Empty bedrooms.
“Put down the knife, Roger.” Tessa’s warning came from down the hall. “Do not hurt that child.”
“Put down your gun,” Roger shot back.
At the end of the hall, Logan peered around the corner. Horror chilled his blood. With one arm, Roger held Abby close to his body, using her as a human shield. In his bandaged hand, he held a knife to the child’s throat.
Images rushed at Logan, all of a dead child covered in blood. Sweat poured from his body and soaked his shirt. His hands trembled.
“All right, Roger. You win.” Tessa lowered her gun. Stooping, she set it on the drop cloth that covered the floor. “Now let Abby go.”
“That’s not going to happen.” Roger jerked his head toward the kitchen area. “Kick the gun toward me.”
Tessa gave her weapon a halfhearted nudge that barely moved it.
Roger stared at the weapon on the floor, as if trying to decide whether obtaining the gun was worth getting closer to Tessa or allowing her to get closer to him.
But Roger made no move toward the gun, clearly deciding Tessa was too unpredictable. “Handcuff yourself to the refrigerator.”
Tessa did as she was told. Roger frowned at the gun on the floor. If he tried to grab it, he’d be within kicking distance of Tessa. Roger inched toward the door, keeping a tight hold on Abby. “Now throw your key, phone, and radio across the room.”
The items bounced on the drop cloth as Tessa stripped them from her person.
Logan considered his options. He had no shot at Roger. Both Abby and Tessa were in the way. Could he circle around to the front of the cabin and take Roger by surprise? Logan eyed the blade at the child’s delicate neck. If he jumped Roger, the knife could slip. Abby could be hurt—even killed.
He couldn’t let her be cut. She’d bleed to death right in front of him. Logan couldn’t let that happen. Not again.
No. Logan had to wait until the blade wasn’t as close to the child’s throat. If they got into a vehicle, Roger would have to lower the knife to drive.
And where would he go anyway? They were on an island, and the ferry operators would be looking for him.
Best for Roger not to know he was there. Logan wiped his sweaty hands on the thighs of his pants.
As Roger backed out the front door, he picked up Abby, turned, and ran.
After Roger and the little girl disappeared, Logan rushed into the room. He grabbed the key off the drop cloth and opened the handcuffs on Tessa’s wrists. She scooped her gun and phone off the floor and ran for the back door, whispering, “Don’t let him see us. If he thinks he’s safe, maybe he’ll let Abby go.”
They exited, then stopped at the corner of the cabin and peered around its side. Tessa pulled back. “Shit.”
“Where’s he going?”
“The boathouse,” she said, her voice low.
Logan remembered that Roger’s boat was a twenty footer. “His boat is too small to cross to the mainland on anything but the calmest of summer days. Winter seas are too rough.”
“I agree, but he’s desperate, and there are other islands he could hide on.” Tessa sent Kurt a text. Logan read it over her shoulder. She gave a quick update and asked him to alert the sheriff and coast guard.
Then she shoved her phone into her pocket and looked around the corner again. “We’ll follow them and try to separate Abby from Roger.”
She put her finger to her lips, then crouched and jogged across the grass toward the water.
At her side, Logan could barely see Roger’s shadow approaching the boathouse, then disappearing inside. A faint light flickered on.
They broke into a run, stopping at the sagging door to the boathouse. Logan peered through the crooked gap at the hinges. The boathouse had three slips, each with its own boat lift to raise the boat out of the water when not in use. Wooden walkways separated the slips. Only one lift was occupied. A small outboard runabout hovered above the water. Roger had put the child down and was dragging her by one arm toward the boat. The old structure groaned under their weight, and black water lapped at the pilings.
Abby had found her voice and her spunk. She dragged her heels, resisting. “I don’t want to go. You’re hurting me.”
Roger brandished the knife in her face. “Shut up and do what I say.”
“I hate you!” she cried. Despite her brave front, her voice trembled.
“Stand right there. Don’t move.” Lowering the knife, he shoved her ahead of him. She stumbled, almost falling into the icy water.
“Don’t fall in!” Roger yelled. “That water is cold enough to kill you.”
Logan startled as Tessa tapped on his arm. She motioned for him to circle around the boathouse. Leaning close to his ear, she breathed, “He’s not holding Abby right now. It looks like there are some missing boards on the other side of the building. See if you can sneak inside and grab her. I’ll distract Roger.”
He started around the building. Despite the cold air blowing off the water, sweat ran down his forehead as visions of dead children danced in his head.
11
Tessa waited for Logan to disappear around the building. She looked through the crack again. Roger had put the knife in his pocket to free his hand to work the lift levers. A soft hum sounded, and the boat began to lower.
Where was Abby?
Tessa spotted her standing in front of Roger. Tessa had no shot. The child was in the way.
The boat was almost in the water. Tessa needed to stop Roger now. She could not let him take Abby away on the boat. There were hundreds of islands in the area. He could hide on any one of them. Who knew how long it would take for the coast guard and sheriff to go after him? Roger might dump Abby overboard when he no longer felt he needed a hostage.
Tessa opened the door to sneak inside, but the hinges squeaked. Roger whirled, grabbing Abby by the hair. The boat bobbed as its hull settled into the water. In her peripheral vision, she saw Logan crouching on the opposite side of the boat.
Time to distract Roger.
Just inside the doorway, Tessa yelled, “Hands up!”
About fifteen feet away, Roger dragged Abby across his body again, but he didn’t have the knife out. He fumbled in his pocket.
“Ow!” Roger’s bandaged arm jerked. Abby had bitten him. His gaze went from the child to Tessa. In one quick movement, he shoved the little girl into the water of the empty slip. Abby hit the water with a splash. Roger hit another switch, and the overhead door that led to the water began to roll upward. He jumped onto the boat.
Tessa looked over the edge of the walkway. Inside the building, with no light, the water was black as ink. Panic bubbled in her throat. “Abby?”
Where is she?
Bubbles burst on the surface of the water, and then Abby’s head broke through. Unable to reach the child from the walkway, Tes
sa jumped in. The shock of the cold water closing over her head paralyzed her for a few seconds. Then she kicked to the surface, her boots and clothes dragging at her. Abby was treading water a few feet away, her hair plastered to her head, her face white. Her head went under; then she resurfaced, sputtering.
Tessa swam to the little girl. “I’ve got you. Can you put your arms around me?”
Abby flung her arms around Tessa’s neck, nearly taking them both under. Tessa adjusted her grip and kicked toward the dock.
The boathouse door went all the way up. Roger was going to escape—for now. But Tessa could live with that. Abby was safe. Logan plucked Abby from the water. Next, he pulled Tessa onto the walkway. Her body shook with a bout of uncontrollable shivering.
“Shit!” Roger shouted from the boat. He was twisting the key, but the engine wasn’t turning over.
Confusion filled Tessa as Logan took the handcuffs from her belt. Why wouldn’t the engine start?
He jumped onto the boat. Roger’s hand went to his pocket, and he fumbled for his knife. Logan didn’t bother drawing his weapon. He punched Roger in the face. Roger’s head snapped back, and blood spurted.
“How dare you use a child as a shield!” Logan punched him again. The turmoil on his face alarmed her. He cocked his arm to throw another punch.
“Logan, that’s enough!” Tessa shouted.
He froze, then lowered his arm and took a deep breath. Blood was smeared across Roger’s face. Self-control reestablished, Logan twisted Roger’s arms behind his back and handcuffed him. Then he patted down Roger’s pockets. Finding the Swiss Army knife, Logan put it in his own jacket pocket. Then he dragged Roger off the boat.
Relief flooded Tessa. “What happened?”
“He’s wasn’t going anywhere without this.” Logan pulled a coiled red cord from his jacket pocket. He’d removed the engine kill cord, a piece of plastic wire connected to a switch on the dashboard or engine of small boats and Jet Skis. The driver of an open boat wore the cord attached to his wrist or clothing. If he was thrown overboard, then the engine would stop, and the boat would not run over him.
“That was smart,” Tessa said, impressed.
Whisper of Bones Page 8
