The Crushing Depths

by Dani Pettrey

  “Why?” Logan asked.

  “If she’s capable of all you say she is and all we found”—Emmy indicated herself and Logan—“I’d be scared too.”

  “What else did you two find?” Noah asked.

  Emmy crossed her legs. “In her early twenties, she went by Gwyneth Hill. Under that name she was charged with harassment, trespassing, and vandalism. The group she worked with then—Activists for Animal Rights—was caught tossing stink bombs on whaling boats, cutting their lines, breaking into factories that dump chemical waste, even monkeywrenching.”

  “Monkeywrenching?” Mason asked.

  “Sabotaging equipment that they believe is environmentally damaging,” Em said.

  Rissi flipped through the articles Emmy had handed her. “Looks like they were accused of starting a fire at a series of sporting goods shops after they were closed for the night.”

  “Sporting goods?” Mason said. “Seriously?”

  “Apparently, they believed the shops encouraged unethical treatment of animals by selling hunting and fishing gear.”

  “Okay,” Noah said. “So we’re dealing with extremists. Everyone be on your guard.”

  Everyone nodded in reply.

  Noah exhaled. “Today’s been quite the busy day.” He went on to share about Brooke’s second break-in along with the vandalism. Whoever was stalking her, his threats were definitely escalating and that was never a good sign.

  Rissi was thankful Noah was on it. Brooke couldn’t ask for a better investigator. He went on to explain Brodie’s supposed alibi and the plan for him and Emmy to hit Riley’s Pub tonight to see if anyone besides Brodie’s buddies could account for his whereabouts.

  Rissi silenced her thoughts and focused on her Father. Please, Lord, be with Brooke. Put a hedge of protection around her and everyone looking out for her, especially Noah. Please guide him to find whoever is responsible and help him bring them to justice. The battle is yours, Lord. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.

  Next Caleb shared about his interview with Rick Carson and Logan about the airport footage. Noah wasn’t exaggerating. It’d been a busy day for the team. One after which they usually decompressed with a bonfire dinner on the beach at Finn’s, but tonight she just wanted to be with Mason. Just the two of them picking up where they’d left off.

  “I also had a talk with Rick Carson’s fiancée earlier today,” Logan said.

  “Oh?” Rissi asked.

  “Yep. Bella Armstrong.”

  Rissi’s brows hiked. “As in financial guru’s daughter, Bella Armstrong?”

  “One and the same,” Logan said. “Apparently, she met Carson at a thousand-dollar-a-plate garden party back in May.”

  “I’m sorry,” Rissi said, almost choking on the iced latte Mason had just handed her. “Did you just say the Carson fellow from the mug shot was at a garden party?”

  “Bella said Rick was dressed in an impeccably tailored suit and was nothing but charming.”

  “Charming?” Caleb guffawed. “Carson? You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “I know.” Logan stood up and smoothed his shirt. “Not everyone can be as charming as me.”

  “Or as arrogant,” Emmy said with a playful smile.

  “I prefer to think of myself as confident.” He winked at her.

  “Let’s continue,” Noah said, nudging the two back on pace.

  “Rick lied to me,” Caleb said.

  “Color me shocked.” Rissi sighed. She hated men like that. Ones that used and hurt and lied.

  “What did he lie about?” Noah asked Caleb.

  “He told me he met Bella at a Narcotics Anonymous meeting after Jesus saved him and he turned his life around.”

  “Uh-huh . . . ” Logan said.

  “How’d it go with Bella?” Caleb asked.

  “Well, clearly another lie,” Logan said, “but Bella said Rick introduced himself as a yacht enthusiast who dabbled in hedge funds.” He shook his head. “I’d delved into Carson’s financials, and knew it was a bald-faced lie.”

  “Did you tell her?” Rissi asked, outraged at anyone who was being taken advantage of or preyed upon by cons like Rick Carson.

  “Of course I did,” Logan said, taking a seat on the sofa arm by Emmy’s side. “Not only that, but I showed her Carson’s rap sheet.”

  “And?” Emmy asked, looking up at him.

  “She thanked me and left the coffee shop.”

  “That’s it?” Emmy frowned.

  “Surely she’ll confront Carson, if she hasn’t already,” Rissi said. Every self-respecting woman would. “But I worry how he might respond. He’s a dangerous man.”

  “I caught her at the car and expressed my concern. She said not to worry. The men Carson has waiting on him hand and foot are employed by her. And the head of the pack—a Samuel Barton—has been with her family for years. She said he’d never let anything happen to her. That he was good at taking out the trash.”

  “Interesting comment,” Rissi said. “Almost makes it sound like she’s endured men like Carson before.”

  Emmy rubbed her arms. “I hope not. No woman should be treated like that.”

  Caleb leaned forward. “What I want to know is how Carson pulled off the rich vibe long enough to convince her to marry him. That had to take some money upfront for clothes, a car—things she’d expect to see with a man of substance.”

  “I know how he set up the illusion of being a rich hedge fund manager,” Emmy said with a twinkle in her eye.

  “How?” Caleb asked.

  “He came into ten thousand dollars the week prior to the garden party.”

  “How did that happen?” Rissi asked. “Rich relative?” She was joking, but seriously, how had someone like Rick Carson come into so much money?

  Emmy smiled like she had a secret to tell.

  “Spill it, girl,” Rissi said, anxious to know how Rick had acquired the funds.

  “They came from the Freedom Group.”

  Rissi’s jaw slackened. “What . . . how?”

  “The Freedom Group paid ten thousand dollars via PayPal to a corporation called Satterley Investments.”

  “Okay?” Rissi edged near the end of the seat cushion.

  “Logan?” Emmy prompted, nudging him beside her on the couch arm.

  “Emmy told me about the large cash transfer,” he began, “so I did some financial digging, and there is no Satterley Investments. The company doesn’t exist beyond an email address where the money went via PayPal. An email address that no longer exists.”

  “Then where did the money go?” Caleb asked.

  “Here comes the interesting part,” Logan said. “The same day the Freedom Group sent the money, Rick Carson deposited ten thousand dollars into his bank account.”

  “So you think Gwyneth was funneling him money?”

  “Maybe laundering it or just paying off a man she had ties with. Who knows,” Emmy said. “Perhaps she and Rick were in it together for him to con Bella Armstrong out of her fortune. You put a shark and a con together and no good is going to come from it.”

  Rissi looked at Mason. “Ed said if any foul play was involved in Greg Barnes’s death, we should be looking at Gwyneth and her crew.” Rissi pulled her blazer about her shoulders, the station temperature a little cool even for her.

  “You cold?” Mason didn’t wait for her to answer, just pulled off his navy fleece and handed it to her.

  She slid it on over her head and slipped her arms in the sleeves. It was soft, warm, and smelled of him. She looked up, and everyone was watching them. “So how does it all fit together?” she asked, more in an attempt to shift their attention off her and Mason than seriously thinking anyone had the full answer yet, but together they were getting there.

  “I’m not sure yet,” Emmy said, “but I’ll . . .” She glanced up at Logan. “We’ll keep searching until we put all the pieces together.”

  “You guys make quite the pair,” Mason said.

  Pink rushed Emmy’s c
heeks, and Logan cleared his throat, though a longing for something lingered there.

  “I meant as an investigative team,” Mason said.

  “Right.” Emmy released a nervous laugh. “Of course. What else would you be talking about?”

  “I’m going to have another talk with Carson,” Caleb said, redirecting the conversation.

  “Good plan.” Noah nodded. “All right, folks, you all have your assignments. Let’s get moving.”

  As soon as the meeting wrapped, Rissi caught up with Noah a few feet from his desk. “Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?” This was one conversation she wasn’t looking forward to, but Noah needed to know about Lucas.

  “Sure,” he said. “What’s up?”

  She glanced around. Caleb was watching. “Can we talk in private?”

  FORTY-FOUR

  “Is everything okay?” Caleb asked Noah as he returned from speaking privately with Rissi.

  “She was filling me in on what they learned today.” Noah clamped a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “We need to talk.”

  Caleb’s brows arched.

  Noah hated the conversation he was about to have. He’d asked Rissi to remain in the conference room, so she could be there when Caleb got the news. He understood things were strained with Mason in the picture, but he still felt Rissi could be of help. Besides, Caleb would have questions Noah probably couldn’t answer.

  Caleb followed him into the room, and Noah shut the door behind them.

  “What’s going on, Ris?” Caleb asked.

  She stood at the edge of the table. Swallowing, she began, “Emmy discovered that Gwyneth was a visiting professor of marine biology at the University of North Carolina Wilmington last year. Lucas took two of her classes.”

  “And so did a hundred other kids,” Caleb said.

  “Yes, but Lucas’s roommate said that he and Gwyneth spent time together alone off campus.”

  Caleb’s jaw tightened. “What are you saying?”

  Rissi exhaled. “I don’t know any other way to put this. Lucas and Gwyneth had or are still having a romantic relationship.”

  “What?” Caleb stepped back. “No. For one, she’s like a decade older than him.”

  “Eight years, apparently,” Rissi said.

  “You can’t really believe . . . ?”

  Rissi rested her hand on Caleb’s arm. “I’m sorry to tell you all this, but after Lucas dropped out of school, he moved in with some guys in Topsail.”

  Caleb narrowed his eyes. “What else?”

  “Logan found that Lucas withdrew the funds for his tuition from his student account. It took a while to trace it, but Lucas donated it to the Freedom Group.”

  Caleb sank into a chair, and Rissi pulled up one beside him. “I’m so sorry.”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “So what does this mean?”

  “It means we have to assume Lucas took a job on Dauntless to, at the very least, be a spy for Gwyneth,” Noah said.

  “And Greg Barnes’s death?” Caleb paled. “Please tell me he had nothing to do with that?”

  “We have no idea if Greg Barnes’s death was anything other than an accident at this point, but we need to look into all the things that have gone wrong on Dauntless.” Rissi took a breath and released it. “We need to make sure Lucas played no part in any of it.”

  Caleb sank back. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  Here came the part Noah hated most. “Given the circumstances . . . ”

  “Yes?” Caleb said at his pause.

  Noah exhaled a thick stream of air. “We can’t have you working this case.”

  Caleb didn’t argue, but pain streaked across his creased brow.

  Caleb strode out to his car, anger and disappointment tensing his muscles until his arms felt rigid. The air held the heaviness of rain, dark clouds brewing overhead.

  “Hey, Caleb,” Logan said, striding out of the station toward him.

  Caleb lifted his chin. “What’s up?”

  “Why don’t we grab a burger.”

  “I appreciate it, but . . .” He dealt with blows better alone. Or maybe it was just that he’d always chosen to go it alone.

  “Come on,” Logan said. “I’m buying.”

  Rain plopped on Caleb’s head. First a drop, then another and another. He had to eat, and Donna’s Burger Shack was legendary for its burgers. “All right. I’m guessing Donna’s?”

  Logan shrugged. “Where else?” He pulled out his key fob and clicked his locks open. The truck beeped in response, its headlights flashing. “I’ll meet you over there.”

  The winds picked up as the sky let loose, the rain pelting as Caleb hopped in his car. They’d had a series of storms earlier in the month, but now forecasters were saying a bigger swell was heading inland over the next couple of days. The restless weather echoed the restlessness of his soul.

  He still couldn’t . . . well, wouldn’t, wrap his mind around the thought that Lucas had . . .

  He rubbed the back of his neck.

  Please, Lord, don’t let this be true.

  Brooke headed for her car. It’d been a productive day off. She’d accomplished so much around the house—the most satisfying project being repainting the spare bedroom. She’d gone with a sky blue. Now she just had to decide what to do with the room. She already had a guest room, two seemed superfluous. Perhaps a home office? She really had no need. The best use might be turning it into a cozy reading room.

  Maybe after grabbing a spicy chicken sandwich, fries, and a Coke from Chick-fil-A, she’d pay a visit to Tim’s Woodworks and see what kind of bookshelves he’d made lately.

  Approaching her car, she fished her keys from the bottom of her purse and clicked the fob button to open her door. Rain sputtered from the sky, soft drops sprinkling her face.

  She opened the door, tossed her purse on the passenger seat, and was about to climb in when something skittered across the tan leather seat. She followed the movement to the floorboard, where a mass of black scurried.

  Spiders.

  She jolted back, her gaze fixing on the one dangling from the rearview mirror on a thin silk strand. It spun. A distinct red hourglass marked its underside. She staggered back, her hands breaking her fall as she collided with the pavement.

  Black widows.

  She kicked her car door shut and scrambling to her feet, bolted for the house. Keys jangling in her trembling hands, she finally got the door open. She burst in and locked it behind her. Brodie had gone too far.

  Noah pressed the gas pedal flush with the floorboard, his chest tight. No need to panic. Brooke was locked safely in her home. He’d intended to be there earlier, but he paid Brodie a quick visit. He’d been ready to throttle him, but once again, Brodie had an alibi. He’d been on shift, but his worry over telling Brooke that Brodie had an alibi for the night the garage was vandalized was superseded by the fact someone had put poisonous spiders in her car, and it couldn’t have been Brodie. He’d confirm the bar story as that was possibly a group lie among Brodie and his friends, but him being on shift was a solid alibi.

  If somehow Brodie was involved, he’d crossed the line to attempted murder. On the other hand, if Brodie’s alibis held tight and he hadn’t put the black widows in Brooke’s car, then who were they dealing with? Maybe one of Brodie’s friends? Regardless, an UNSUB scared him far more than someone they could keep an eye on.

  Noah slammed the brakes. Another red light. Was he bound to hit every single one?

  Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he attempted a deep breath but only managed a jagged inhale, his chest squeezing in response.

  The light finally turned green, and he exhaled, brief as it was, and floored it. The engine roared, and a gaggle of elderly ladies gathered along the row of high-end storefronts shook their snow-white heads as he sped past.

  He plopped the emergency cherry on the dash and switched it on. Brooke’s call had rattled him.

  Two more turns, and he slowed as he
entered Brooke’s neighborhood. Too many little ones to speed.

  Another left and two rights, and he coasted to a stop in Brooke’s hedge-lined drive.

  Brooke ran out her door and crossed the lawn before he climbed out of the car.

  She rushed to his side. He wrapped her in his arms, fighting the urge to press a reassuring kiss to her forehead. Where did that come from? He loosened his hold and took a step back.

  “Thanks for coming,” she said, her words throaty and breathless.

  “Of course. I told you anytime, and I meant it.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself. “Thank you.”

  “You said they were black widows?”

  Brooke nodded, tears in her eyes.

  “Okay, I have animal control on the way as well as an exterminator. Wasn’t sure which was best in this case.”

  An hour later, with every last spider wrangled up by the animal control officer and exterminator working together, Noah was nothing but thankful to see them drive away with the spiders in a safety tub. What happened to them now, he didn’t ponder. He was just relieved Brooke wasn’t in danger—at least not from black widows. If she hadn’t been so observant, if she’d climbed into the car by rote memory as he had so many times, she could have died.

  No way he was leaving her alone. Not now. Not until Brodie or whoever was after her was behind bars.

  “I’m headed to my sister Kenzie’s for dinner with the family. I’d really like you to join us.”

  Surprise crossed her face. “Oh?”

  “I just have a bad feeling about leaving you alone.” He glanced around the neighborhood, the rain a fine mist on the quiet street. “What do you say?”

  “Okay.” She nodded. “Thanks for the invite.”

  “Hey, Kenz,” Noah said, opening his sister’s front door and holding it for Brooke to enter before him.

  Brooke smiled, but there was a hint of apprehension in her eyes. Gabby had brought her to a family dinner a couple of weekends ago, but, come to think of it, she’d seemed rather quiet then as well.

  Curious. Was she nervous being around their boisterous family? Or perhaps she just took a while to warm up around people she didn’t know well.