by Dani Pettrey
“Is that when you learned Mr. Layton had died?”
“Yes. Mrs. Layton was crying. Braxton explained everything and then sat with her. Jack came up and said Mo wanted to see me, so we swapped places and I headed down.”
“And what did you find when you got down there?”
“Mr. Layton laid out on the floor. Next thing I knew there was a loud explosion and we were abandoning ship.”
“Before the dive, did you thoroughly instruct Mr. Layton about the necessity of dive stops during the ascent?”
Marv’s shoulders tensed and broadened. “Of course. He’d already had the training, but we always go over it just to make sure people understand the importance. I explained that because of the depth, we have regular hold spots on the way up to avoid decompression sickness. I also explained that occasionally folks got freaked out about having to ascend slowly, but it was absolutely imperative for the client’s safety. John said he understood.”
“So let’s backtrack. You see John Layton on the floor, and then how long would you say it was until the explosion occurred?”
He shrugged. “From the time I got downstairs, maybe five minutes.”
His initial comment suggested it had happened almost instantly. “Five minutes?” she confirmed.
He shrugged again. “To the best of my recollection.”
“And what happened during those five minutes?”
“Well, Mo and I double-checked that Mr. Layton was deceased. Then he started to go to call the death in, but the explosion nearly knocked us off our feet. Water came rushing in, and Mo and I moved Layton’s body to try and get him out of the water. We didn’t know the ship was beyond rescue yet.”
They’d moved the body—that would have greatly compromised the crime scene, but with the Calliope underwater, it was destroyed anyway, which made an explosion so soon after . . . suspicious at best.
“Where’d you move his body to?”
“Mo’s cabin up front.”
“His office or bedroom?”
“Office, on the couch.”
“Did you not consider that you were destroying evidence?”
“Evidence?” Marv frowned.
“It’s a crime scene.” Or it was until they corrupted it and the explosion had sunk the ship.
“Crime!” Marv’s brow furrowed. “What crime? It was an accident.”
“How can you be certain?”
“He was in the bathroom with the door locked. He slipped and hit his head.”
It was very possible that was what happened, but given their inability to process the bathroom and examine the body, she couldn’t be sure—they might never be sure. “Tell me more about the explosion,” she said.
“I don’t know.” Marv shrugged. “We heard a loud blast and water flooded in. We moved Mr. Layton’s body, then went topside. The stern was on fire and already dipping below the waterline, so we immediately evacuated the passengers into the life rafts. We made sure everyone had a life vest, sent a distress call with our coordinates, and abandoned ship. You guys arrived, and then the Coast Guard showed.”
“So Mo didn’t initially call the death in because . . . ?”
“Because of the explosion.”
So why hadn’t he said anything about it when he’d called in the Mayday, and what had happened during those five minutes? Had they really just talked and inspected the body?
Mo had been great during their charter dives, but something was definitely off.
thirty-eight
Finn glanced at Gabby as she waved good-bye one last time to Tess. They’d taken her home, helped her pack, and dropped her off at the tiny airport outside of Wilmington. She’d agreed it would be a good idea to stay with her brother and his family on Norfolk’s Navy base.
“She’ll be safer there,” Finn said, resting his hand on the small of Gabby’s back and directing her outside to his Rogue. He opened her door and saw her in before moving around to the driver’s side.
The warmth of the sun-heated car only heated his limbs more. He’d been burning up since he’d seen a man enter Fletcher’s house. Parking the car maybe only forty-five seconds later—it had seemed like an hour—he’d raced up the steps, his heart in his throat, fearing he’d be too late. He was doomed to be late, or so it had seemed. But thankfully, God had spared him this time. Spared Gabby and Tess.
He reversed out of the parking spot, shifting the SUV into drive. “Gabby . . .”
“I know what you’re going to say.”
He highly doubted that.
“What I did was stupid—I agree.”
“That’s a first.” Gabby never admitted she was wrong.
“I should have never taken Tess with me.”
“Tess? No, you shouldn’t have, but what about you? You should have never gone, period.”
“But I had a lead.”
How many times had he heard her talk about leads? What had he learned from all her stories about time in the field? That a lead appeared, and she dropped everything. Just as she’d dropped him and their growing relationship. She’d gotten the job offer from the Raleigh Gazette and was gone the next morning. He doubted she’d even given them a thought in that rapid turnaround. He tapped the wheel. “Today could have ended very differently.”
She flipped her hair over her shoulder, running her fingers through it. “Well, it didn’t.”
“But it could have. You shouldn’t have taken the risk.”
She propped her forearm along the window frame.
A warm breeze riffled through the cab, the scent of black-eyed Susans lingering as they passed the open fields outside of town.
“There was no way for me to know that would happen.”
“Exactly.” His voice hitched up a notch. “That’s what I’m saying. You don’t know what will happen when you go poking your nose around.”
“Poking my nose around? And what are you doing?”
“My job.”
She linked her arms across her chest. “So am I.”
“According to Noah, you’re off the job right now.”
“No. I’m not.”
Stubborn woman. “Don’t you care about your safety, your life?” Heat raked through his limbs at her silence. He gripped the wheel tighter. “You might not care, but I do.” He swallowed as his throat narrowed. Had he really just said that? To the woman who didn’t care about breaking his heart?
What was it about her? She’d barely been back in town, and all the feelings he’d shoved down, or tried to, were back and raw on the surface.
“I . . .” She struggled for words. “Of course I care about my safety. I didn’t think anything was going to happen.”
He raked a shaking hand through his hair as the wind ruffled it. “You never do.”
She looked at him, then back out the window. “The fact that someone was there should tell you there’s something important in Fletcher’s house.”
Finn frowned. “Why would you think that?”
“Why else do you think that armed man was there?”
He tapped the wheel. “Fuentes sent him.”
“Please, no way you missed the genuine confusion on his face when you mentioned Fuentes. He had no clue who Fuentes is.”
She was right, but the man had gone after Gabby. Or . . . had gone to Fletcher’s to get something and was caught off guard by her and Tess’s presence. “Regardless. It was a dangerous move.”
She arched a brow. “You aren’t even going to admit I’m right?”
“Right about what? Unless he confesses his motives for going to Fletcher’s, you have no way to know why he was there for certain.”
She exhaled in a long stream.
But there was a way for him to find out if Fletcher was hiding anything connected with the case. He instructed his Bluetooth to call the office.
“CGIS, Wilmington office,” Emmalyne answered.
“Hey, Emmy. Can you work on getting a warrant to search Dennis Fletcher’s house? We think there
might be something inside that ties to this case.” He relayed the rest of the information.
“On it,” she said. “Gabby okay?”
“I’m fine,” Gabby said.
“Glad to hear it.”
“We’re on the way. ETA fifteen,” Finn said.
“See you then.” Emmy disconnected the call.
Gabby looked over with a smirk.
He shook his head. “You don’t even know if you’re right.”
She cocked her head, linking her arms across her chest. “We’ll see.”
Gabby and Finn entered the station to find Caleb pacing.
“What’s up?”
“The man asked for a phone call during processing . . .” Caleb said.
“And?”
“He called Litman Limited,” Emmy said.
Finn shook his head. “What is it with this company?”
“I covered the basics, then left the interrogation for you, since you were the one on-site,” Caleb said.
“Thanks.” Finn looked at Gabby and then his watch. “When are Noah and Rissi due back? Do they need help with the new case?”
Caleb swiped his nose. “They are investigating as we speak, and Noah said they’ve got it covered.”
Gabby looked at Caleb, unease stirring inside. The last thing her brother needed while working a case was to be worrying about her. “Did you mention . . .”
“Your Houdini trick?”
She swallowed. She hadn’t meant to make Caleb look bad by leaving the office. “I’m sorry. I . . .”
Caleb held up a hand. “You don’t have to explain to me. That’s between you and your brother. But if I’m ever on sister watch again, you aren’t going anywhere on your own.”
She nodded. “Got it.”
Finn smirked and headed for the interrogation room. “I’ll be back in twenty. She’s all yours,” he said to Caleb.
Great . . .
thirty-nine
Noah paced the hall outside the Wilmington General’s ER. He understood Mo wanted all the passengers and even the rest of his crew to be tended to before him, but why was it taking so long for them to get to Mo?
He took a sip of coffee and looked at the clock.
Once the Calliope was deemed safe to dive, he and Finn would go down and retrieve Mr. Layton’s body—if it hadn’t been decimated by the explosion. He hoped the two ship sections had settled relatively close to where they went down, making it easier for the Coast Guard to find and assess the stability of each for diving.
His gut tightened. Doing an investigative dive without Sam would feel awkward at best. With his passing, they’d have to modify. He knew that, but it didn’t make it easier. On the plus side, Finn was a talented diver and would be a great help in the interim, but Noah had already put in a request for a new dive investigator. No one could replace Sam, but they needed to fill the role.
Dizziness swirled through Noah’s head. He took another sip of cold coffee, hoping it would ease the constant thumping in his head. He rubbed his brow.
“You okay?” Mo said, entering the room.
“I should be asking you that.” Noah gestured for him to sit. “Are you?”
Mo sank into the cushioned chair, running a hand across his bald head. “Other than heartache over my girl sinking . . .”
Noah asked the question still burning in his mind. “What happened out there?”
Mo looked up, his shoulders hunched. “It was all going well. We had the regular crew—me, Marv, Braxton, and Jack.” He propped his elbow on his knee and cradled the weight of his head in his hand. “Everyone aboard was working on their basic open-water dive certification except John Layton. He was doing his second wreck dive.”
Noah nodded. It was just as he’d heard from the others he’d interviewed.
“Marv took John Layton, Braxton and I took the others, and Jack had the helm. Our dive went flawlessly. We were back on board and the clients were having a snack when Mr. Layton returned, and then Marv.”
He shifted, repositioning himself in the chair. “Mr. Layton went to the head as soon as he got back. Braxton and Marv put their dive equipment away. Next thing I know, Mrs. Layton is hollering for help. I head down the galley steps, Jack’s busted into the bathroom, and Mr. Layton is laid out on the floor, his head all banged up and bloody.”
“He was . . . ?”
Mo exhaled out a long stream of deflating air. “Dead.”
forty
After reading the file Emmalyne had put together, indicating the intruder’s identity and last-known address, Finn entered the interrogation room. “Mr. Bashert, Isaac Bashert. That is your name, isn’t it?”
The man nodded, a sullen, irritated expression on his face.
Finn leaned across the table and released his cuffs from the hook. He didn’t seem like a threat, and it’d make it easier to read his body language if his hands were free.
The man was blond with blue eyes, about Finn’s six-one height. In coloring and physique, they were quite similar, but he doubted they were alike in any other way.
“So why don’t you tell me why you were at MCPO Fletcher’s house?”
Isaac slouched in his chair. “I was going to check on him. I heard he’d been in an accident.”
“So you and Fletcher are friends?” Why didn’t he believe that?
“Uh-huh.” The man picked something out of his teeth. Charming.
“How do you know each other?”
“From bowling,” the man said, not missing a beat.
Finn arched his brows. “Bowling?”
“Yeah. He’s in a league at Wilmington Lanes, and I drop by occasionally. We picked up a conversation a while ago and enjoy a beer together when we’re both there.”
“Okay.” He wasn’t buying it, but it was easy enough to check out. “How’d you learn about Fletcher’s injury?”
“At the bowling alley. Besides, the town is all abuzz about it.”
“Why’d you go to his home instead of the hospital?”
“I thought he was recuperating at home.”
“You always visit your friends with a firearm?”
“I have a legal permit for it.”
Unfortunately he did. “Why rush up the stairs holding that gun?”
“I saw a strange car in the driveway, heard rustling upstairs. It felt like something was wrong, so I ran up to check it out.”
“What did you think was happening?”
“I thought Fletcher might be in danger. I was trying to protect my friend.”
“Did you call for Fletcher when you entered?” Gabby said he’d never identified himself or said a word.
He stalled a moment, then said, “No.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t announce your presence if you’re checking out a possible break-in.”
“Why’d you suspect a break-in?”
“I just had a bad feeling.”
“A bad feeling?”
“Yes.”
How was he supposed to argue with that? “And when you saw the woman in the office . . . ?” He didn’t need to learn Gabby’s name.
“I didn’t have time to ask who she was or what she was doing there. I rounded the corner, saw something glass in her hand. Next thing I know, she bashes me in the head. I wake up and find I’m on the floor in cuffs. I want a lawyer because I’m going to sue.”
“Sue for what?”
“Assault.”
“You entered a home that’s not yours, didn’t identify yourself, and ran at a woman with a gun. It was self-defense, and she has witnesses.”
“I want to talk with my lawyer.”
“Is that who you were calling at Litman Limited?”
The man’s blue eyes narrowed. “You traced my call?”
“You’re using our phone. We’re allowed to monitor all calls.”
He leaned forward, resting his intertwined hands on the Formica tabletop. “That seems like an infringement of my rights.”
“It’s legal.”
“We’ll see about that. Like I said, I’m requesting a lawyer.”
“So that isn’t why you called Litman Limited?”
“I don’t have to answer that.”
“What is Litman Limited?”
“Again . . .” He slouched in his chair with a satisfied smile. “I don’t have to answer that.”
Gabby watched Finn emerge from the interrogation room with irritation sparking in his eyes, lips tight.
“Went that well, huh?”
He exhaled. “He claims he’s a friend of Fletcher’s and that he thought you were an intruder.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“You and I know that.” He dropped the case folder on his desk. “But he has no priors, and he’s requested a lawyer.”
“Great.”
“I do have a couple leads to check out—his home, if we can get a warrant based on the evidence we have, and Wilmington Lanes.”
Gabby frowned. “A bowling alley?”
“He claims that’s where he knows Fletcher from.” Finn pulled the man’s mug shot out of the folder and tucked it in his pocket. “I’ll go see if anyone recognizes Mr. Bashert.”
“You might want to check this out first,” Emmalyne said, handing Finn a piece of paper.
“What’s this?”
“An address where Litman Limited received a package.”
Gabby smiled. Finally, they had a local connection to the mystery company.
“I’m on it.”
“Can I go with?” Gabby asked.
“I’d rather you stay put with Caleb.”
“I’m on my way out to check out the drug runners’ homes.” Caleb stood from his desk. “Warrants just came through.”
“She can hang with me,” Emmy offered.
“Nah,” Finn said. “She can come with me.”
Emmy inclined her head. “I’m quite capable of keeping Gabby safe.”
Gabby linked her arms across her chest. “I’m quite capable of keeping myself safe.” Not to dis Emmalyne’s ability, but they were talking about her as if she was inept. She’d protected herself just fine with Bashert.