Exposing Ethan (Cassidy Kincaid Mystery Book 4)

by Amy Waeschle

  “What else happened?”

  She fought against the memory of Bo’s body behind her, trapping her against the table. But then the rest of them came: his snake-like smile, his hand on her hip, holding her possessively, his offer for more “lessons.”

  “Cassidy?” Bruce’s firm voice cut through her tumbling thoughts.

  “Stop!” Cassidy said, bracing her feet against the floor. “Stop the car!”

  Nineteen

  Cassidy finished emptying the contents of her stomach into the weeds. Bruce stood nearby with a box of tissues and a bottle of water.

  Cars rushed past them in a dark blur. They must be near the beach; she could smell the dewy salt air.

  Still leaning over, she wiped her mouth, then spit. Standing, she let the world come back into focus. Her fingers shook as she cracked the lid of the water.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, leaning against the side of the car for support, the hot metal warming her icy skin.

  “It’s okay,” he replied, his voice soft. She dared not look at him, afraid of how his compassion would make her feel.

  “I need you to tell me what happened,” he said.

  Cassidy sipped her water. “Nothing.” She exhaled the tight breath trapped behind her breastbone.

  “Well, it’s obviously bothering you,” he said, crossing his arms.

  How could she describe the reckless feeling she’d experienced while playing pool with Bo? The powerful buzz from the alcohol had somehow unlocked her loneliness. While Bo’s attention wasn’t welcome, a small part of her had been flattered, and she’d fed it with more alcohol. It was just like before, with Mel. Bruce would never understand.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  Cassidy shook her head, which protested with a dull thud. “I don’t want to be that person anymore,” she said.

  “What person? Cassidy, I don’t understand.”

  “You can’t possibly, okay?” she said, almost shouting.

  “Cassidy, what the hell happened in there?”

  “Nothing!” she said as the emptiness inside her stretched open like a black hole, sucking everything that was good into it. “I just can’t do this anymore.”

  He watched her carefully. “The case?”

  “Everything,” she said, her molars tapping shut. “What if Bo gets tired of me putting him off?” What if you leave? she wanted to add.

  “You have the team,” he said, sounding flustered. “We’re with you all the way. You’re not alone.”

  “But I am alone, Bruce,” she cried. “And clearly I’m not strong enough for this.” Cassidy inhaled a slow breath that tickled all the way down into her lungs.

  “That’s not what I see,” he said. “You’re so brave, Cassidy. Why can’t you see that?”

  Because I was out of control tonight. “Can I go home, please?”

  “Of course,” Bruce said, his kind gaze turning pained.

  Once they reached Quinn’s apartment, Bruce turned to face her, looking worried. “Are you going to be okay tonight?”

  There’s a loaded question, she thought. “Yeah,” she replied, and stepped from the car.

  She felt his eyes on her as she unlocked the exterior door and slipped inside. How could he think of her as brave? More like stupid. She remembered Bo’s hand on her hip. Had he felt her reaction?

  Only inside the empty apartment did she finally feel safe—from Bruce’s compassion, from Bo’s advances, from her recklessness.

  The next day, Quinn was lounging on his patio, scrolling the news on his phone.

  “What a nice surprise,” she said, sitting next to him.

  “You look like hell,” he said. “How’d it go last night?”

  A dull ache throbbed in the back of her brain. “You want to get out? I could use some fresh air.”

  “Sure,” he said, his eyes lighting up.

  Ten minutes later they were walking up the concrete ramp to cross the PCH, travel mugs of coffee in their hands.

  A bright sun washed out the colors of the buildings and sky and an offshore breeze teased wisps of hair from her ponytail. The noise of the cars rushing by felt horrendously loud, but she knew the beach was only moments away.

  “I drank too much last night,” she said as they waited.

  “Liquid courage?”

  Cassidy hugged herself. “It hasn’t happened in a long time.”

  He twitched his lips. “And you’re kicking yourself for it?”

  The light changed and they hurried across the street. Once they reached the sand, Cassidy slipped off her flip flops. Quinn did the same, and they strolled down the slope to the broad beach, the breeze strengthening with each step. In the distance, a handful of surfers dotted the lineup, bobbing like a pack of black birds over the swells. Broken waves sent pulses of white foam over the sand.

  “I can’t do it anymore, Quinn,” she said, walking to the band of firm sand left behind by the lowering tide. “Last night, I felt out of control.” She shook her head. “It felt like I was going back to that time, after Pete.”

  “You’ve come a long way since then, Cass.”

  Cassidy grimaced. “Maybe.” She remembered Bo’s teasing. You’re always saying maybe. You think too much.

  Cassidy turned north, the cold, wet sand chilling her toes as she walked. A wave crashed, sending a thin curtain of water racing for her feet. “I’m scared because a part of me liked his attention,” she said in a rush.

  “Why wouldn’t you? Don’t we all like to feel wanted?” He stopped and faced her.

  “Not by someone like him,” Cassidy said.

  “You stood your ground, didn’t you?”

  “Of course,” she said, flipping a tiny pebble with her toe.

  “So, this obviously has nothing to do with Bo.”

  She tugged a stray hair from the edge of her mouth.

  “It’s gotta feel nice to have attention from someone. That’s all this is.”

  “What if I’m meant to be with someone like him?”

  “What?” Quinn cried, startling a nearby gull that was foraging at the edge of the surf. “Cassidy, come on, don’t tell me you really believe that.”

  “I don’t want to, but look at my track record.”

  His eyes turned serious. “What track record? We’ve already been through Mel a hundred times. You couldn’t have known, Cass.”

  Cassidy inhaled a slow breath. Quinn was right about Mel. She had worked through it, both with Quinn and with Jay. Her lack of intuition with Mel didn’t need to define her.

  “And think about what you did to rescue Izzy. That took balls.”

  Cassidy smiled.

  Quinn started walking again.

  “I sort of blew up at Bruce last night,” she said.

  “You were with Bruce?”

  “He picked me up at Legends.”

  A pair of joggers passed them. One of them held a phone that blared rap music.

  “Well, if you’re going to blow up at one of them, I’d pick him and not Special Agent Harris.”

  Cassidy laughed. “Yeah.”

  “Speaking of the lead dog herself, she thinks it’s time for me to shake the tree a little bit.”

  “Last night, Bo complained about you being stubborn. He also said something about doing him favors that he’d pay you for.”

  Quinn sipped his coffee. “That’s what he hinted at with me, too. I think the linen thing is how he’ll deliver money.”

  “That makes sense, doesn’t it?” She bent down to pick up a perfectly round, black rock, examining it for a moment before skipping it on the water. “He got the supply chain up and running, now he’s itching to use it.”

  “Special Agent Harris thinks he’ll proposition me soon. Maybe even today.”

  “Do you think Bo’s involved in what they do to those kids?”

  Quinn took a moment to answer. “Sounds like he helps get the shipment out of the port. But maybe he doesn’t know what’s inside the cans.”

 
The coffee in her empty stomach churned. “It’s so horrible.”

  “That’s why what we’re doing is so important.” He tugged her hand to stop her. “Can you stick this out for just a little bit longer?”

  The fear and uncertainty rose up inside her. “I’m not going on any more dates with him.”

  “Then let’s hope they can get him before he asks.”

  “Meanwhile, will you help me with something?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Sure.”

  And hour and a half later they were wandering the rows and rows of shiny, new cars beneath the shadow of the giant car dealership building.

  “Why buy something here?” Quinn asked. “That means you’ll have to drive it all the way back to Seattle.”

  “But this way I can leave whenever I want. I’ve changed my flight once already. I think the airlines are going to blacklist me soon.”

  “SUV? Sedan?”

  She gave him a questioning look. “Sedan?”

  He gave her an exaggerated shrug. “Someday you might want room for more than one passenger.”

  “Like when?” she asked, baffled.

  He flashed the palms of his hands in a “forgive me” gesture. “Never mind.”

  Cassidy shook off her confusion. “Truck. It’s the best fit.”

  “Even though your last one let you down?”

  “I’m the one that let her down,” she said as wave of remorse washed through her. “I just kept wanting Pete to take care of it.”

  Quinn put his arm around her. “I know.”

  She relaxed in this rare moment of affection from him.

  “So what color?” he asked, moving down the row. “How about red?”

  “Oh, my word, what has gotten into you today?”

  He laughed. “Okay. Green? White?”

  “Not white, though it is practical.”

  They walked down the next row. “These are all so shiny.”

  “Can I help you today?” a woman’s voice called from behind them.

  Cassidy and Quinn both turned. A fifty-something saleswoman in a skirt suit and black pumps stood smiling at them. Her straw-colored hair was curled under at the ends that brushed her shoulders and her blue eyes exuded a warmth that Cassidy fell for in an instant.

  “I’m looking for a truck,” Cassidy said. “Blue if you have it.”

  The saleswoman’s soft, round face broadened into a smile. “Right this way.”

  An hour later, after test driving two different trucks and a SUV to appease Quinn, she was leafing through the paperwork inside the office Annette—the blonde saleswoman—shared with one other sales rep.

  She had decided against blue—the current shade was way too bright—but the silver was growing on her. Quinn and another sales rep were talking motorcycles in the showroom when Cassidy stepped out to call Rodney, their financial advisor. She had already texted him earlier, explaining her need.

  “How are you, Cassidy?”

  She pictured him in his tailored suit behind his broad desk. “I need wheels, Rodney,” she said with a grin.

  “Indeed,” Rodney replied in his pert, crisp voice. “Do you have the total?”

  She read the number scrawled on the Post-it note Annette had given her.

  “Okay, I can transfer that to your account today. It will likely take twenty-four hours.”

  “That’s fine,” she said, knowing that she wouldn’t be leaving until their role in the case was over.

  He asked her about her new job, reminding her to forward any tax-related documents.

  “Oh, hey, before you go,” she said, as a sudden thought came into her mind, “I have a weird question for you. Does the name Preston Ford mean anything to you?”

  “The media tycoon? Of course.”

  “But do you know if he and Dad were connected somehow? Like in business?”

  She had searched for “Preston Ford” and “Seattle” to see if she could find the connection, but had found nothing. As far as what events happening that day, the list was huge. She needed to narrow it down.

  “It makes sense that their businesses would align, but Ethan never mentioned Mr. Ford to me.”

  Cassidy strolled into the shade of the building. “Did Dad support any nonprofits?”

  She heard the squeak of Rodney’s desk chair. “Yes, several.”

  “Do you know the names?”

  “Well, let me think,” Rodney murmured. “I know the Special Olympics was a big one. And I believe Pamela and he contributed to Water for All. There was that big auction every spring. There were others, but I don’t remember them.”

  Preston Ford didn’t seem like the kind of person to support either of those causes. “Could you look them up?”

  “May I ask why?”

  Cassidy tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and squinted at the rows and rows of sparkling-bright cars lined up on the lot. “Just curious.”

  “I can get this to you by the end of the day, will that do?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  She hung up and stepped back into the showroom, searching for Annette, but Quinn caught her eye first. He broke away from the sales rep he was talking to, an excited look on his face as he hurried over.

  He flashed the screen of his phone. There was a message from Bo:

  Quick favor to ask. Meet at Drift?

  Twenty

  Cassidy walked side by side with Quinn down the hallway behind Special Agent Santiago and into the conference room, her breathing fast in her chest. This was it, the moment everything could change.

  “Okay, we’ll make this quick,” Special Agent Harris said, on her feet as if she’d been pacing behind the oval table. Today she was dressed in pale blue slacks and a white button-down shirt, her blonde hair pulled back in a simple ponytail at the nape of her neck, a set of tiny blue earrings sparkling in the light.

  “Where’s Bruce?” Cassidy asked.

  “Special Agent Keolani will be here soon,” Special Agent Harris said. “We needed him to follow up on a new lead.”

  Cassidy reeled in her disappointment. Though she recognized that Bruce was an agent who took orders from his superiors and had little control over his assignments, couldn’t he have been here for this?

  “We have the recording devices in place, but I want you wearing a wire in case he moves somewhere else for the exchange,” Special Agent Harris said on an exhale. “Do whatever you can to draw out exactly what he’s proposing. With the way he put it as a favor, he’s likely going to ask you to take cash and add it to your nightly deposit. He’ll likely tell you a story that sounds legit.”

  Special Agent Santiago got to work adding a body recorder to Quinn’s torso.

  “Should I play hard to get or agree?” Quinn asked.

  “Make him work for it,” Special Agent Harris said. “He’s expecting that.”

  Quinn nodded. Special Agent Santiago tested the recorder, then, apparently satisfied, he nodded at Special Agent Harris.

  “All right, everyone, we’re ready,” Special Agent Harris said.

  “What happens after?” Cassidy asked. “I mean, say you nab Bo, where will you take him? What happens to Quinn?”

  Special Agent Harris and Santiago exchanged a look.

  “They have to arrest me,” Quinn said.

  “What?” Cassidy cried.

  “It has to look like I’m guilty, too, or he’ll know I set him up.”

  Cassidy pleaded with her eyes. No, she told him. This isn’t what I signed up for.

  “He won’t be charged,” Special Agent Harris said.

  “But you’re going to take him in like he will be!” Cassidy said, glaring at Special Agent Harris. “Isn’t there some other way?”

  “It’s not like it is on TV. We won’t be dragging him. The press won’t be there,” Special Agent Harris said, her hands on her hips.

  “It’s okay, Cass,” Quinn said, gripping her shoulders. “I knew this going in.”

  “I didn’t!” she said, des
perate for a way they could change course. In her mind, she was counting on this moment to be the end, so they could stop pretending. So they could move on with their lives.

  “I want you to remain here until we have him in custody,” Special Agent Harris said. “Stay in this room. If I’m right, this will all be over fast and we’ll be back soon.”

  Cassidy had expected something like this, but still bristled at the scolding tone. “What if something goes wrong?”

  “Both Special Agent Santiago and I will be close by. Plus, we have backup standing by if we need it.” She moved around the table to stand by Quinn’s side. “This is what we do, Dr. Kincaid. We won’t let anything happen to him.”

  Cassidy closed her eyes. How many times had she been promised that the people she loved wouldn’t leave her?

  “Come here,” Quinn said, and pulled her into his arms.

  Cassidy held him tight, burying her face against his collarbone. If only Bruce were going to be there, too, I wouldn’t be so scared. Where the hell was he? What could be more important than this?

  “It’s time,” Special Agent Santiago said behind her.

  Reluctantly, Cassidy let him go. Quinn winked at her. She held his gaze for a long moment, hoping it conveyed everything she wished she could say. Then, he turned away.

  Cassidy sank into the chair, her mind slowly petrifying to a hard, empty void. Sliding her arms across the smooth, cold table, she glanced at the clock on the wall opposite her. Had it been here when this building was a school district headquarters? She imagined principals and administrators gathering here with paper coffee cups in their hands to talk about things like building codes and budget cuts.

  The wall clock ticked, signaling a minute had passed. Cassidy groaned, knowing there was no way she was going to be able to sit here and wait.

  She used her burner phone to text Bruce but didn’t receive a reply.

  She imagined Quinn driving his motorcycle to the alley behind Drift. Would Bo already be there? Or would Quinn have to wait? She pictured them shaking hands, Quinn inviting him inside. During the daytime, Drift felt too bright, too quiet. She noticed things like the color of the flooring, the art on the walls, the smell of the glassware coming out of the dishwasher. It was impossible to imagine the vibe that took over the place after dark.