by Dani Pettrey
Finn’s brow arched. “Sure. . . .”
The curiosity dancing in his green eyes was obvious, but he didn’t need to know her purpose.
Gabby snuck into the bathroom and called Tess on the cell Noah had given her.
“Hey,” she said, whispering just in case Emmalyne entered.
“Why are you whispering?”
“I’ll explain later.” She peeked over the stall to make sure she was still alone. “I’m working Will’s case, and I’d like to start with Fletcher’s estranged wife. Do you know where she is?”
“No . . . I’ve only heard a few rumors about what went on.” She was quiet for a moment. “I guess I could ask around . . . if you want me to.”
“No, that’s okay. People might wonder what’s going on if you start asking questions. I’ll check into it.”
“All right. Call me if you find anything.”
“Absolutely.” She tucked the phone in her pocket, washed her hands well. Trying to look as nonchalant as possible, she settled back into Finn’s desk chair to do some research on Valerie Fletcher while Finn was at the morgue attending Will’s autopsy. She was worried about him and said a prayer for God to protect his heart during it.
It might take her a while to find what she needed on Valerie Fletcher, but she wouldn’t stop until she did. Thankfully, uncovering information was her gift from God.
thirty-one
Rissi paced. She clenched her hands into fists, then shook her fingers out. Glancing at the clock, she exhaled.
It’d already been two hours. “How much longer do they expect it will be?” she asked Noah as he entered the private consultation room—one of two they’d been given by the cooperative hospital staff to question everyone after they’d been released from the ER.
Noah handed her the can of Coke he’d grabbed from the vending machine.
The can was cool in her palm. She tapped the top after the tumble it no doubt had taken dropping into the bay of the outdated vending machine in the nurses’ station.
He set his coffee cup on the small table between the stacked magazines and the short brown lamp. “They said Genevieve is still pretty upset, understandably. They don’t want to release her until she’s calmer.”
“That might be a while.” She felt for the poor woman, but the best way to help her was to encourage her to share what was brewing inside. To let her get all her concerns and fears out.
“They said they might keep her for overnight observation.”
“Really?”
“She’s having dizziness and nausea that won’t abate.”
“They think it’s dive related?”
“No. Just stress induced, but they aren’t comfortable releasing her. They said most likely she’d be placed under a twenty-four-hour observation.”
“Poor lady.” Rissi slid her hands into the pockets of her white shorts, once again not having anything to change into since the challenge. It felt odd to be working in such casual clothes and under the chilly AC. Gooseflesh, alternating with heat, flushed her skin.
She popped open the soda, a burst of carbonation releasing. She took a sip, thankful for the sugar rush. It’d been hours since she ate, but she was too preoccupied to bother seeking out food.
“They’ll grant us access to her as soon as she’s either stable and released or settled in her room,” Noah said.
The analog clock mounted on the wall ticked the time away.
Rissi plopped into one of the chairs lining the wall, releasing a puff of air as impatience pricked at her. Was there any way what Genevieve Layton claimed could be true? She hated to ponder the implications if it was.
Noah’s tight jaw said he feared the same.
thirty-two
The information Gabby had been searching for popped up on her screen twenty minutes later. Bingo. The address of Dennis Fletcher’s estranged wife.
She looked around. Caleb was replaying the video feed for Emmalyne while zooming in to see the wet suits’ brand, which might be possible to track to a local scuba shop.
As stealthily as possible, Gabby placed a call to Tess Seavers.
“Hey,” she said in a hushed tone when Tess picked up. “It’s Gabby.”
“Did you find her?”
“Yep. Could you pick me up at Noah’s office?” she whispered, thankful Caleb and Emmalyne were so fixated on their work.
“Sure. I can be there in five, but you really think Noah’s just going to let you out of his sight?”
“He’s on a call, and Finn’s at the morgue. I’ll fill you in when you get here. Pull up on the south side. I’m coming out the bathroom window.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” She switched back to speaking at normal volume as Caleb’s inquisitive gaze shifted to her. “Yeah, my stomach’s off. Breakfast must not have settled right.”
“Good play,” Tess said.
“Thanks. I’ll talk to you soon,” Gabby said.
“Grabbing my purse now,” Tess said.
“Bye.” Five minutes after hanging up, she excused herself for the bathroom. Finn and Noah would be as mad as all get-out, but something was going on. She could feel it, and she wasn’t wired to ignore a story. She’d be safe. She was with a friend. There’d been no sign someone was after her here, and she’d be back within the hour. Finn could berate her afterward.
She waited until she saw Tess pull up in Will’s truck. Flipping open the window, she popped out the screen and crawled out. She hurried to the truck and jumped in the passenger seat.
Tess pulled out of the lot. “Hey, girl. So where are we headed?”
“Val Fletcher’s house,” Gabby said, looking over her shoulder, thankful to find no one following for her. “Let’s hope she can provide some answers.” She gave Tess the address and exhaled with relief once they were off the base and out on Route 14.
She glanced about her, surveying Will’s truck. Tess had driven her car yesterday. “So . . . Will drove his truck the night he . . . disappeared,” she said, thinking that might hit a little softer than died.
“Yes, he did,” Tess said as she turned onto Magnolia Lane.
Gabby’s brows pinched. “Then, where’d you get it?”
“It was still parked at Fletcher’s when I went to look for him. My brother helped me pick it up this morning. I wanted it back.”
That’s right, Tess had mentioned that. Gabby realized she hadn’t asked many details because she’d been too focused on the whys rather than the hows.
“I think you said they launched from a dock on Fletcher’s property?”
“Yep.” Tess nodded, chewing her minty-smelling gum.
She needed to check out his place, his dock—see if any clues had been left behind. “You said Valerie Fletcher is his estranged wife. Do you remember anything else about what went on with them?”
Tess’s chipped pink nails tapped the wheel. “Let’s see. Val left, and I heard she’s living with another man. They had an affair. I think his name is Kenny . . . if I remember right. Anyway, the two of them supposedly ran off together, but neither she nor Dennis has filed for divorce. At least not last I heard.”
“If that’s the case, then I’m guessing Val technically is still part owner of the house.”
Tess frowned. “I suppose. . . . Why does that matter?”
“Because if Val gives us permission to search Fletcher’s house and vehicle, as long as they’re still legally in her name, then we aren’t breaking any laws.”
“Man, you are good at this.”
“Thanks. Now, would you mind if I look through Will’s truck while we drive to Val’s?”
“No problem, but what are you looking for?”
“Anything that might provide a clue—or better yet, an answer—to what Will might have been involved in.”
Gabby started with the glove box, pulling everything out and flipping through the registration and car manual. Halfway through the latter, she pulled out a red-and-white entrance pass of s
ome sort.
“What’s that?” Tess asked, her gaze darting to the pass, then back to the road.
Gabby held it up. “You’ve never seen this before?”
Tess shook her head. “Nuh-uh.”
“Let’s ask Val about it. Maybe Fletcher had one, too, and if so, maybe she’ll know what it’s for.”
Anything that would give her a clue about what they’d been up to.
thirty-three
After an unexpected meeting with a colleague, Hadley signaled Finn into the autopsy room as his coworker exited. Finn pushed off the wall he’d been leaning against.
“Sorry about that,” Hadley said as Finn followed the ME into the sterile autopsy room.
“No problem.” He was anxious to get back to Gabby though. It was impossible to stop himself from worrying about the girl. It was rather frustrating, but also warming, to realize how deeply she’d burrowed into his heart.
Finn paused at the sight of his friend on the steel table, a paper sheet covering him from waist to knees. The sanitizer scent emanating from Hadley’s tools and the sight of the gleaming sink and spotless counter space were a stark contrast to the heavier odor of decay thick in the air.
Hadley slipped on his blue paper mask and settled his protective glasses in place.
Finn swallowed. This was going to be harder than he’d thought. He took a moment to swipe Vicks under his nose, then folded a stick of cinnamon gum into his mouth. He hoped to prevent the odor of death from seeping into his mouth and settling on his tongue. It was the strangest sensation to taste death, but it was similar to the way the scent of buttery popcorn seeped into one’s mouth, lingering on the taste buds and causing one’s mouth to water—obviously the latter a far better sensory experience. The former was beyond unsettling.
“James, my colleague, needed to confer on a case,” Hadley explained.
“Everything okay?”
“Just some peculiar findings.”
Finn didn’t prod any further, knowing Hadley couldn’t share details about a case that wasn’t his. Shifting his thoughts to the case at hand, Finn stared at his friend’s prone body as he strode to the steel table. Will’s eyes were closed, the bullet holes prominent on his body.
“I took photographs from head to toe while James and I were discussing his case. Now it’s time to examine the wounds and interior damage.” Hadley inhaled and released the breath in a whoosh, his gaze fixing on Will’s body.
He didn’t have to expound. It was time to cut into his friend.
Finn’s muscles tensed further, unease raking through him. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all, but he owed it to his friend to work the case as he would any other.
Hadley switched on his headlamp and directed the adjustable overhead light onto Will’s forehead wound. He ran his gloved hands around the edges, then measured the wound. “You said there were no guns retrieved on the boat?” he asked as he proceeded.
“No. Will must not have been armed.”
“Probably thought it was unnecessary for an evening fishing trip.”
Maybe if Will had brought his service weapon, as Finn did everywhere, he would have been able to defend himself. Maybe he would still be alive. Though maybe was a dangerous word. He had to stick to the facts rather than conjectures.
Hadley moved to the first of the chest wounds.
Finn still couldn’t help but wonder why two different weapons were used. Had there been two different shooters? Fletcher claimed two men had boarded his boat. Had both shot Will with different gun models?
Hadley retrieved his bone saw. “Now for the messy part.” He narrowed his eyes, his gaze fixed on Finn over the edge of his paper mask. “Are you sure you want to be in here for this?”
Finn nodded. “Positive.”
“While I begin . . . the file on John Doe’s autopsy is on the counter.” Hadley gestured across the room with a lift of his chin. “Thought you’d want to take a look at it.”
Finn was thankful for the distraction as Hadley made his first cut into Will’s sternum. The saw buzzed. The scent of burning bone trailed after Finn as he strode to the counter. He flipped open the cover of Hadley’s report on the drug runner still identified as John Doe.
The sight of Sam being shot, his body flinging back with the impact, the shock radiating in his dimming eyes reverberated through Finn.
Please, Father, help me through this torrent of emotions. I feel like I’m sinking. Please lift me above the water. Help me to keep my eyes on you. Don’t let me drown in this case.
Two friends were dead, and now all the drug runners responsible for the shootout were dead. Who’d killed them? And why?
Perhaps to keep them quiet, to get rid of any loose ends? Maybe even to punish them for failing to kill Fletcher or for getting caught?
Whatever the reason, they were dead, which just left the evidence. Finn prayed the clues were enough to solve the case.
After scanning the autopsy report, he flipped to the photographs and paused. The man had numerous scars—the one near his rib cage the work of a serrated blade. Hadley’s notation confirmed Finn’s assessment. He had a healed bullet wound to the right of his heart. He’d clearly seen some action.
Finn’s cell rang. “Sorry,” he said to Hadley over his shoulder as the saw stopped.
“No problem. We’ll be here.”
Finn nodded and stepped into the hall, thankful for the fresh air as he answered the call. “Hey, Caleb. What’s up?” He prayed there’d been a break in the case.
Caleb cleared his throat. “Gabby’s gone.”
Finn’s muscles coiled. “What?” A chill crept up his spine.
“I’m sorry. I was tracking down info about the wet suits from the security footage. I was on the phone pretty much constantly.” He cleared his throat again, tension tight in his tone. “Gabby said she was heading to the restroom. When she didn’t come back, I sent Emmalyne in. Turns out Gabby popped out the window screen and left.”
Without a car of her own, she must have gotten a ride with someone. “Any idea where she went or with who?”
“Don’t know the who. But despite the fact that she’d erased the history off your computer, Emmalyne was able to retrieve the intended location. Looks like she was searching for Valerie Fletcher’s place.”
“Valerie Fletcher, as in Dennis Fletcher’s estranged wife?”
“Yep.”
“Got an address?”
“She did a fair amount of searching, but yeah, she found her.”
The girl was good.
Caleb relayed the address.
“Got it. I’m on my way.” Finn hung up, apologized to Hadley for having to leave, and darted for his Rogue.
When he found Gabby, it was going to take every ounce of his restraint to keep from strangling her.
thirty-four
Tess pulled Will’s truck to a stop in front of the trailer. The double-wide sat along the marsh-lined river about a half hour from Wilmington. Aged pine trees dotted the landscape, their needles cushioning the path to Val’s front door.
Tess opened the storm door and knocked.
A man with a wrestler’s build—tall but stout, with wide shoulders, bulky arms, and a wide stance—answered. His questioning gaze shifted from Gabby to Tess, whom he studied as if he were trying to place her.
“Hi, I’m Tess. I think we met a while back. I’m here to see Val.”
He continued appraising her for another moment before recognition dawned. “Right.” He snapped his fingers. “Hang on.” Keeping the door open, he called Val’s name into the house, his deep voice echoing through the trailer.
Val Fletcher stepped to the door. She was brunette and petite. “Tess! I heard some ladies in town talking about Will. I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.” Tess nodded, her fingers fidgeting with the small white pom-poms decorating the fringe of her maternity top. “Could we chat for a minute?”
“Sure.” Val stepped out to join them in the war
m September air. She gestured to the wooden picnic table nestled beneath a giant pine tree. “How about over here?”
“Great,” Tess said. “Thanks for chatting with us.”
Val nodded and led the way across the pine-needle-covered yard. She took a seat at the well-worn table and gestured for them to do the same. Tess sat sideways to avoid pressing against the table’s edge with her baby belly. Gabby sat beside her, eyeing the silver double-burner grill standing on the concrete slab to the right. She bet Val and Kenny spent a good many nights out here. And with the incredible view of the river, she didn’t blame them.
“So what did you want to know?” Val asked.
“Anything you can tell us about Dennis,” Gabby said.
Val’s arch-shaped brows hiked. “Who are you?”
“I’m sorry,” Tess said. “This is my friend Gabby. You may remember her brother, Noah Rowley.”
“Sure. The handsome one.” Val smiled, glancing back to the trailer to make sure Kenny hadn’t overheard them. “So what specifically do you want to know?”
“Honestly, anything you can tell us could be a huge help.”
Val chuckled, but there was no humor in it, more like an edge of bitterness. “I could tell you a lot.”
“Start anywhere you’d like,” Gabby said, knowing they needed to learn all they could about the man lying in a hospital bed.
Val’s brown eyes narrowed, her fake lashes fluttering with each blink. “What’s this all about?”
Tess twirled one of the pom-poms on the fringe of her shirt through her fingers. “I’m . . . we’re . . .”
“Trying to determine what kind of man Dennis is. Is he an upstanding guardsman, or is there another side to him?” Gabby said, her gut indicating the latter, but she had nothing concrete to base that on.
“Another side . . .” Val snorted. “Dennis is the kind that likes to punish women. Infer from that what you will.”
Tess’s widened gaze fixed on Val. “What? Are you saying . . . ?”
Her lips thinned. “That man took pleasure in knocking me around.”