by Dani Pettrey
“My folks were married close to thirty years before Dad died.”
“You’re lucky.”
“Here we go.” Ginny sailed back into the room, Piper’s cookies arranged in a circular pattern on the plate. “So . . . how can I be of help?”
Bailey cranked down the window as they wove their way down Ginny’s flower-lined drive. “Ginny is wonderful. I still feel rotten, though, asking her about Henry’s last flights.”
“I think it made her happy to help. To feel she could be useful in such a bad situation.”
Bailey clutched the copied itinerary, scanning the data. “Agnes’s flight left Yancey for Anchorage at 11:05 on the morning of August first. Henry noted on the books that she was headed to Russia from there—but he didn’t include any flight or destination information. And he picked Agnes up in Anchorage at four thirty in the afternoon on August the seventh. So we can assume she was in Russia for approximately five days. Now we just need to figure out what she was doing there. Maybe Landon or Slidell can pull her credit card slips.”
“Good idea. I’ll give Landon a call.” Cole pulled the truck into a scenic overlook off the highway. “I’ve seen too many accidents caused by talking on the cell when driving. Safer just to stop and take in the scenery.” He yanked the phone from his pocket and it rang. “Good timing,” he said, flipping it open. “McKenna here . . . Oh hey, Jesse. What’s up? . . . Uh-huh.” He reached across the dash and grabbed a pad and pen from the glove compartment. “Great, eight thirty on the first. Hang on a sec.” He covered the mouthpiece. “Looks like Agnes may have wiped them out before her trip after all.”
“Really?” Disappointment flooded Bailey. Why? What had she been hoping for? Confirmation Agnes was the reason for the crash? Like that would somehow make it better.
“Jesse says the last date the system was touched was 8:30 a.m. on the—” Cole slid his hand away. “Yeah, Jesse, I’m here. What did you say?” His jaw tensed as he listened. “You’re sure? Okay. Thanks. Yeah. Keep me posted.” He shut the phone.
“What?”
“Jesse said before we logged on yesterday the computer hadn’t been touched since 8:30 p.m. on the first.”
“Agnes was already gone.” Color drained from her face. “Someone was in the Post after she left, erasing her e-mails.”
“There’s more. According to Jesse, it looks like Agnes’s e-mails are being rerouted to an alternate e-mail account.”
“What account?”
“He doesn’t know yet. He needs more time.”
“We better tell Slidell.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
31
Cole held the sheriff’s station door open for Bailey.
Before she could enter, Slidell strode out, a stark expression fixed on his face. “McKenna, good timing. Follow me.” He waggled two fingers in the direction of his vehicle.
“We found something interesting,” Cole said, striding across the parking lot to keep up.
“Yeah?” Slidell opened his truck door. “So did Piper.”
“Huh?” What was his little sister up to now? And why was Slidell in such a hurry?
“She was walking Aurora out by the point, tossed the dog a ball, and it came back with a femur.”
Landon gathered Piper’s hair in his hand, pulling it back from her face while she retched, her slight frame convulsing from the force.
He didn’t know what to say, what to do, how to make things right. He patted her back, his hand feeling awkward and clumsy. He sucked at consolation. Lecturing, protecting—those he could handle. Jesting and teasing—he excelled at them. But comforting? Not up his alley.
He checked his watch again. Where was Cole? He should have been there by now. He’d have the right words, the right touch.
Piper straightened, swiping the back of her hand across her face.
“Here.” Landon offered her a handkerchief.
“Thanks.” She dabbed her mouth and sniffed. “Some detective I’d make.” Despite the tearstains, her cheeks still held the telltale blush of embarrassment.
“We all do it,” he said, trying to offer some modicum of reassurance. The last thing she ought to be embarrassed about was tossing her cookies like a rookie.
She blew her nose in the hanky. “Do what?”
“Lose our lunch, at one time or another. It happens to everyone.”
She narrowed her puffy eyes. “Even you?”
He shifted his weight. “Well . . . not everyone reacts the same.”
“So in other words, no.” She shrugged. “It figures.” A hiccup racked her slender body.
“What does?”
“That stuff—” another hiccup jolted her—“like this, wouldn’t bother you.”
“Not bother me?” He’d have to be heartless not to be upset at finding a man’s remains strewn across a half-mile patch of beach. “Where’d you get an idea like that?”
“Piper,” Cole called. He raced across the open stretch of beach, kicking sand up in his wake. Bailey and Slidell followed.
Rushes swayed in the breeze as the wind shifted, sweeping the putrid odor of decay over them anew.
Piper grabbed her stomach, her eyes filling with humiliation before she doubled over and lost what was left of her lunch.
Cole cradled her in his arms as soon as she was upright. “Thank God you’re okay. When Slidell said you’d found remains, my heart dropped.” He pressed a fierce kiss to her brow, then slackened his hold only enough to study her face. “You all right, kid?”
She nodded and buried her head into his chest, her body heaving with sobs.
Landon moved to stand beside Bailey at the edge of the police tape, giving them their space.
“I better talk to Booth,” Slidell said, striding toward the town’s medical examiner.
“What happened?” Bailey asked, lifting her chin toward Slidell’s retreating back. “He didn’t say much.”
“It’s too early to be positive, but I think Piper may have just found our mystery man.” The breeze shifted and Landon grimaced. “Or what’s left of him.”
Piper woke in a cold sweat, the odor of death still rancid in her mind.
Landon leapt from the armchair. “You okay?”
“Aside from finding someone in pieces?” She wriggled to a seated position, ignoring the light-headedness. “Any word from Slidell?”
“Not yet. These things take time.” Landon sat on the couch by her feet, a bag of potato chips in his hand.
“How will they even be able to tell, there was so little left of—” She stopped. On site Booth had been unable to even determine if the limbs and torso belonged to a man or a woman. What if it wasn’t the mystery man as they all seemed to believe? What if it was someone they knew?
“You’d be amazed what Booth can do with practically nothing.”
She bit her bottom lip and nodded, afraid if she spoke she’d break down in tears, again. Landon must think her the biggest baby.
“Are you thirsty? Hungry?” he asked. “I can fix you something.”
“Water would be nice.” She propped herself against the couch cushions. “I don’t think I’ll be eating for a while.”
“Right.” Landon shoved the chips behind his back. “One water coming up.”
She brushed the damp hair from her brow and noticed the throw spread across her. The house was dim, quiet. How long had she been asleep? “Where is everybody?” Cole and Bailey had been there. Sheriff Slidell for a time. Gage, Kayden, and Jake had all dropped by. It was like she’d broken her collarbone all over again—everyone fussing over her. But this was worse, much worse. This would haunt her for years to come.
Landon returned with the water and a plate of saltine crackers. “Slidell’s back at the station. Gage, Jake, and Kayden are up on Kodiak, leading that survival camping excursion. They offered to cancel, but Cole insisted you’d want them to go.”
“Of course.” But why was Landon here? Why did he have to be the one to see her fall apart?
/> “Cole dropped Bailey off at Agnes’s and went into the shop.”
“Ahh,” she grunted. “It was my night to close up.” She scrambled to her feet, only to be knocked back by a wave of dizziness.
“Easy now.” Landon lowered her back down. “You’re in no shape to go anywhere.”
“I’m fine.” Minus the wooziness swarming her brain.
“You haven’t eaten in hours. What you had this morning is long gone. And it only makes sense, given what you saw, that you’re experiencing at least a mild degree of shock.” He covered her with the blanket, tucking her in. “Which means you’re staying put.”
She opened her mouth to argue and he shoved a cracker inside.
Cole walked Bailey to her door, not willing to leave until he saw her safely inside. She’d witnessed only a fraction of what Piper had, but it’d been enough to rattle anyone. She needed comfort too. Whether she was willing to admit it or not.
Bailey turned, key in hand. “Is she going to be all right?”
“Piper’s tenderhearted, but she’s strong. It’ll take some time, but she’ll eventually get past this.”
“Landon’s very brotherly towards her.”
“Yeah. Landon and I have been friends since Piper was born. He’s watched her grow from her terrible twos, to her knock-kneed, gangly teen years, on till now.” Cole shook his head with a grin. “Those two fight and jab like they really are siblings.”
Bailey rubbed her arms as if a chill had just washed over her. “It’s nice she has so many people looking out for her.”
His heart squeezed at the deep ache in her words. He stepped closer, and to his amazement, she didn’t move back. “You need someone like that in your life, Bailey.” He tipped her chin up, staring into her fierce blue eyes.
Her jaw set as if ready for a fight. “I can take care of myself.”
Air jolted from his lungs as if he’d been hit. “Of that I have no doubt.” She didn’t have room for him in her life. There’d always be a wall there, a distance she wouldn’t let him breach, and the realization left him starved.
32
Cole stacked the last of the flippers on the rack and glanced at the clock. Five of nine. The day had flown by—running a handful of excursions followed by a steady flow of customers. He was thankful business was booming, but equally thankful it was just about closing time. He pulled to his feet as “Wipe Out!” sounded behind him.
A man entered. Early forties, tall, athletic. Definitely not local.
“How’s it going?” he said.
The man gazed about the shop before cracking a smile. “Oh, can’t complain.”
“Can I help you find something?”
The man closed the distance between them. “I surely hope so.”
“What are you in the market for?”
“Oil,” the man said with a smile and a hint of a southern accent.
“As in suntan?” Cole pointed to the small display. They didn’t get much call for it in Yancey.
The man laughed. “No, as in crude oil, son.” He yanked a business card from his shirt pocket and handed it to Cole. “I’m with Pentrinium Oil.”
Cole studied the card. “Greg Stevens.”
Greg extended a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same here. My name is Cole. What can I do for you, Greg?”
“Well, I’m in need of a diver to map a grid of underwater caves. We just secured the drilling rights and believe there’s oil just waiting for us, but before I can send my boys in, I need to know what we’re looking at terrain-wise.”
Cole studied the man as he spoke, noticing for the first time the uncertainty filling him. All this talk of murder was apparently getting to him. “Why come to me?” he asked, feeling the strange need to test the man. To make sure Greg and Pentrinium Oil were aboveboard.
“I’m not the sort of man who enjoys wasting time. I asked around, learned you were the best, so here I am.”
“Who do I have to thank for recommending me?”
“Sheldon Graves over at P and R. Mike Thornton at Burnett.”
Greg’s answers fit, but something still didn’t feel right. Cole couldn’t put a finger on it. Just felt it in his gut. “Well, my family and I have done a number of exploration and mapping dives.” He stepped behind the counter and retrieved the date and log book. “How large a grid are we talking about?”
Greg removed a schematic from his briefcase and spread it out on the counter between them.
Cole studied the area boxed in with red marker. It included Herring Cove, where Cleary’s missing boat had been found, the vicinity where Liz Johnson’s body had been recovered, and encompassed the area offshore of Chirikof Island. The preliminary grid he’d made for Slidell was eerily identical. He leaned against the counter, his arms crossed. “What makes you think there’s oil there?”
“Based on preliminaries. So when can you start?”
“I’m afraid not for a while. We’re swamped right now.”
“Oh?” Greg’s pleasantness faded.
Cole flipped through his book. “Looks like next month would be the earliest we could commit to that chunk of time.”
“Even if the price was right?”
“Sorry. My hands are tied.”
“I see.” Greg rolled up the schematic and tapped the counter with it. “You have my card. Give me a call if anything opens up. I don’t have a month to waste.”
“Will do.” Cole looked back at the card, finding only a 1-800 number. “Say . . . where are you staying in town?”
The only answer he got was “Wipe Out!” playing as the door shut behind the man.
Cole picked up the phone and called Landon.
“Grainger.”
“Hey, man, it’s me. How’s Piper?”
“Quickly getting back to her spitfire self.”
“That’s great.”
“If you say so . . .” The tension had slipped from Landon’s voice, replaced with a hint of his teasing manner. Piper really must be doing better.
“A guy just tried to hire me for a cave-mapping expedition.”
“Okay?”
“It’s in the same region we’ve been spending a lot of our time.”
“Is that right? He didn’t resemble our mystery man, did he?”
“No. Too old. Besides, aren’t we assuming Piper already found our mystery man?”
“I pray that’s the case. Otherwise we’re looking at yet another victim. I tell you, Booth can’t make his report fast enough for me.”
“Or me.” The possibility of another victim seemed ludicrous, but Cole had learned from experience, when it rained it poured.
“So tell me about this guy. Did you get a name?”
“Yeah. Greg Stevens of Pentrinium Oil. Left his business card with me. I’ll drop it by your place on my way home.”
“Actually, I was thinking since Kayden’s away tonight, maybe I should bunk out on the girls’ couch.”
“Probably not a bad idea, but I can do that.”
“It’s no bother. Besides, you had your turn guarding Bailey. I’ll take this round.”
“All right. Thanks, man. Call if you need anything.”
“No problem. You should stop by the station after you close up, though. See what kind of sketch you can give Earl. Who knows . . . might come in handy.”
“Will do.”
A smile crept over his face as he strolled away from Last Frontier Adventures and into the night. Cole McKenna’s reaction to the proposed schematic was everything he’d hoped for. He’d targeted his best guess and the man responded beautifully, albeit with evasion rather than acceptance of his offer, but it mattered not.
Clearly he’d roused Cole’s suspicion, and his curiosity along with it. It wouldn’t be long before he and the girl were in the water. Both were bright and experienced. He chuckled at the promising turn of fate—he couldn’t have fashioned a better team for his purposes if he’d tried. They’d find what he needed—and when they did
, he’d take it from them. Simple as that.
It wasn’t how he’d planned it, but the result would be the same. And that was the mark of greatness—what separated natural-born leaders like himself from mere pawns—the ability to fashion everything to suit one’s needs, one’s desire. He’d done just that and they had no clue.
33
“How’s Piper doing?” Bailey asked the following afternoon as they made what was quickly becoming their daily walk over to the sheriff’s station. She wore a knee-length copper sundress and a pair of flip-flops. It was as casual as Cole had seen her, and it made him smile.
“Better. Though Landon said she suffered a few nightmares.” Not that he’d slept much better. All the time spent with Bailey was only confirming how much he was going to miss her when she was gone, and it frustrated him to no end. He prayed God would answer his plea and change his heart. He was falling fast, and if something didn’t shift soon, he was in for one painful landing.
Cole sidestepped a string of jubilant kids skipping with their newly won prizes—stuffed animals ranging in size from small husky dogs that little hands could easily curl around all the way up to an oversized moose that was nearly double the size of the preschooler insisting he could carry it.
Today kicked off the Summer Festival, and tourists and locals alike crammed the town square to take part in the action. A bevy of booths lined the space, offering everything from the ring toss to native crafts. The scent of cotton candy danced in the air, bringing to mind the Summer Festivals of his childhood.
“Looks like they’re having fun,” he commented as they passed an elderly couple feeding each other funnel cake.
Bailey blushed. “Yeah, it does.”
“Are you planning to go?”
“To the festival?” She fidgeted with the hemp bracelet on her slender wrist. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, if you change your mind, I’m pretty good at the ring toss.”
She smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I saw the way you were eyeing that moose. It could be yours.”