“Coast Guard, eh? I haven’t even seen the ocean in six months, kids. I doubt there’s anything I can shed light on. Most days I can barely remember my name.” He wiped his filthy hands on his jeans and jerked his head toward his house. “Let me wash up, and I’ll share my lemonade with you. Have a seat on the porch, and I’ll be right back.”
Ellie glanced at Grayson and shrugged as the old man went into the house. “What’s your take?”
“He’s a lot sharper than he wants you to believe.” He took her elbow and steered her to the steps.
By the time they were seated on the porch swing, the old man was back with a tray of three glasses of lemonade and a plate of Girl Scout peanut butter cookies. He set it on the table in front of the swing, then settled into the rocker close to them.
He took a big swig of lemonade, then smacked his lips. “That hits the spot. So, Miss Ellie Blackmore, what can I do for you? Is this about your sister’s death?”
Grayson suppressed a smile. He’d been right. The old guy was sharper than his chainsaw.
Ellie sipped her lemonade, then ran her finger around the sweating rim of the glass. “I spoke with Monte Bennet this morning. He told me how to find you and that Mac had been talking to you about building ham radios.”
“I thought old Monte would drop dead in the traces. How’s he enjoying retirement? He should come see me, and I could show him the best fishing he’s ever experienced.”
“I’m sure he’d love that. Why would Mac be interested in building a radio? Couldn’t she just buy one?”
He blinked, then reached for a cookie. After popping it into his mouth, he chewed slowly, his gaze looking off into the dark shadows of the trees. “Well, sure. But when you build one, you can make it special. And it’s cheaper.”
Ellie leaned forward. “Did she ever mention an interest in North Korea?”
His muddy brown eyes went wary. “The FBI already talked to me. I suggest you have a chat with them. I’m not supposed to talk about it.”
“The FBI told us to back off, but she’s my sister. I have to help her.”
Hodges stared at her. “Okay, yeah, she talked about Kim Jong-un. I got the impression he scared her, and she was trying to convince herself the danger from him that the news is always blathering on about wasn’t real.”
Grayson opened his mouth, then shut it again. Ellie had a bit of a rapport with the old guy, probably because of Mac. He’d let her run with it.
“You’ve heard the rumor about her stealing cocaine, right?” Ellie asked.
The old man nodded. “Can’t say I was surprised. That girl was running scared from something, but she wouldn’t talk about it.”
“Did the FBI tell you anything that might help us?”
“You want me to end up in jail, girl? I shouldn’t have even told you they came to see me.”
Ellie took a sip of her drink. “Did she ever mention anyone’s name to you? Someone else we could talk to?”
“She often talked to someone she called Wang, which was a nickname meaning he was the boss or king of the operation. It’s Korean, she said.”
“Not a real king?”
“I don’t think so.”
He squinted toward the woods, and in the next second Grayson heard a bullet whiz past his head and saw it hit the old man, who slumped in his chair. “Get down!” He yanked Ellie from her chair and onto the porch floor, then pulled his gun out. “Stay here.”
He saw a glint in the woods, which was probably what had alerted Hodges. In a crouched position, he started down the steps to the yard, but he heard the distant sound of a vehicle roaring away. He reversed his steps and went back to check on Hodges.
Ellie was kneeling by his side, and tears streaked her cheeks when he joined her. “He’s dead, shot through the head.”
“I’ll call the sheriff.”
He probably should call the FBI too, but they’d know he was still investigating. If they threw him in jail, he wouldn’t be able to protect Ellie.
It was hours later by the time they’d briefed law enforcement and were on their way back. Had Hodges been the target or had the shooter been aiming for Ellie? She was so clueless of truly evil people.
He glanced over at her and found her staring out her window at the fall color in the trees. “Looks like your sofa and I are going to be best friends.”
“I can’t stay home.” She turned her head to stare at him, and myriad emotions streamed through her eyes: curiosity, fear, resolve. “Someone doesn’t want us investigating. We were followed today.” She sat up straighter. “I know—I’ll camp out at the Saltwater Point house. I’ve got tons to do there anyway. I’ll stay in the apartment over the garage. I can let the sheriff know, and he can post a deputy.”
At least she wouldn’t be at her remote house. “I’ll let the sheriff know myself.”
And Grayson could camp out in his vehicle as well. She had no idea how determined these people were.
Chapter 20
If a good foundation is the most important part of a structure, the roofing is a close second. It does no good to fix things inside if the roof is bad.
—HAMMER GIRL BLOG
The next morning Jason was waiting for her in the main house when she came through the back door with her backpack slung over her shoulder. The crashing of walls coming down and the banging of hammers told her demolition was still in progress. She coughed at the dust in the air.
Jason wore a tool belt slung low over his dust-covered jeans, and he motioned for her to join him at the wall between the kitchen and dining room. “You wanted this one down, right? What else?”
Ellie retrieved her blueprints from her backpack and rolled them out on the Formica counter in the kitchen. “That wall too.” She pointed to an adjacent wall that adjoined the living room.
Jason nodded. “I checked the attic, and we’re going to need a support beam.”
“I assumed we would. I also want to join the two smaller bedrooms down the hall to make a master. And we can make a second guest master upstairs with the full bath next to the smallest room. We can put another half bath under the stairs.” She pointed out her plans on the blueprint.
“Looks good. Nice and airy.” He slid the hammer in his hand back into his tool belt.
She knelt and examined the floors. “These look like solid oak. I think we can save them. I know where to get lookalikes to fill in where the gaps are after we take down the walls.”
“That’s what I thought.” Jason paused and studied her face. “Any updates about Mac yet?”
“No, they have no leads on what happened to her.” She reached up and brushed drywall dust from his hair.
He frowned. “You said you were investigating. What have you found out?”
She couldn’t tell him about the terrorist angle. He’d been too ready to believe the worst about Mac, and she didn’t have the strength to defend her sister.
“What about the missing cocaine? Is the Coast Guard still fingering Mac for that?”
She looked away at his eager expression. All he wanted to hear was dirt about Mac. “Well, yes. There’s a video that shows her directing two other men where to load it. There’s not much doubt she took it, but I’m sure there was a good reason. I just have to find out what it was.”
“I’m not surprised. She pulled the wool over your eyes for years. She wasn’t the Girl Scout you’ve always thought she was.”
He was talking about Mac like she was dead, and Ellie wasn’t ready to accept that. “I think someone made her take it.”
He took his cap off and ran his hand through his sun-streaked brown hair. “You have the evidence right in front of you, but you refuse to see it. I don’t even know what to say to you.”
She touched his arm. “You loved her once. How can you be so hard-hearted?”
“I have known her since we were in school, Ellie. She always wanted more. When you redid your bedroom with new paint and linens, she talked your parents into getting that big
canopy bed that cost twice as much. When you were asked to the prom by that one boy, she worked on him until he withdrew his invitation and asked her.”
Ellie took a step back. “I never held it against her.”
His dark brows drew together. “You should have. Everything had to be about her, and she couldn’t stand it when attention landed on you. You have never seen it, though.” He jerked his hammer out again and slammed it against the next wall to come down.
Ellie rolled up her blueprints and went to get her tools. She’d always considered Mac her best friend, not just her sister. Mac depended on her. Before she ever made a decision, she called to talk it over with Ellie. Before she took the university job, she asked Ellie’s opinion.
Was everything about her life a lie? Even though Jason disliked Mac, the things he’d pointed out were true. Mac had needed attention like a baby needed milk. Ellie had always assumed it was because Mac was the youngest. It was understandable.
Her head throbbed, and she rubbed her temple. She hated conflict, especially with people she loved. With her work she was in her element. Take down that wall, open up that space, raise that ceiling, and put a window in there. Design a house the way she wanted it, and she had a sense of satisfaction as she walked around and looked at her handiwork.
Why didn’t life cooperate like that?
She glanced at the time on her phone. There was a meeting about the festival at three, and she needed to be there. If she was going to probe everything Mac was involved with, she needed to look at the tall ship flotilla coming to town. Mac had been obsessed with it. There might be a clue there.
City Hall used to be a mercantile back in the last century. The committee overseeing the festival met in a space in the back of the basement, cramped quarters with no windows. It always had a musty smell. Ellie looked through the tiny pane in the door and saw everyone was there.
Isaac Cohen noticed her and motioned for her to come in. She pulled open the door and stepped into the room. “I hope you don’t mind my visit.”
Isaac shook his head. “If this is about what happened to Mac, any one of us would do anything we could to help.”
“It is.” She advanced to the front of the room and turned to face the group of six.
She knew all of them: Isaac, Felicia Burchell, attorney Kristy Gillings, Stuart Ransom, and Michelle Diskin, whose eyes filled the moment she saw Ellie. The person she was most surprised to see was her employee, Clint, but she shouldn’t have been. He was very interested in politics.
Ellie focused her attention on the most sympathetic face in the group—Michelle’s. “I’m sure you’ve all heard the rumor about Mac stealing a seizure of cocaine from the Coast Guard.”
Fire flashed in Michelle’s eyes. “It’s ludicrous.”
She’d talk to Michelle privately and tell her what she knew, but right now Ellie didn’t want to feed the rumor mill more. “I’m trying to re-create Mac’s last weeks. She was very passionate about the tall ship flotilla coming. What can you tell me about the progress of it?”
Isaac pulled a chair up for her. “Have a seat, Ellie. I know it’s been a hard week.”
“Thanks.” It felt a little cozier sitting at the same level as the rest of them.
Kristy Gillings tucked a graying strand of hair behind her ear. She looked like a frumpy housewife, but she had one of the finest legal minds in the state. “The fleet will be here a week from tomorrow. The festival is on Saturday, but they’re getting in a few days early. The Parade of Sail wraps up the event on Sunday morning, then the boats will dock for tours through end of day Monday. Twenty tall ships from three countries will be here. Mac’s idea was really genius. We’ve already sold three times the tickets we expected. I’m glad we didn’t cancel it.”
Ellie frowned. “Cancel it?”
Felicia looked stunning in a deep-red sheath dress. When she rose to get a glass of water, the men in the room watched her. She handed the glass to Ellie. “You know Mac was passionate about the tall ship plan. Did you know she changed her mind the day before her death?”
Ellie curled her fingers around the cup. “I-I don’t understand. Mac talked of nothing else for weeks and weeks. Why would she want to cancel it? She never said anything about it to me.”
Felicia settled back in her chair and crossed shapely legs. “It surprised all of us too. We’d gone too far and had actually paid the organizers in full by the time she made her request. We couldn’t pull out.”
“But she had to talk you all into it.”
Felicia nodded. “I know. She didn’t have a good reason for why she wanted to cancel it. She kept saying something about it being dangerous. I don’t know if she thought one of the ships would run aground or what. She rushed out of our meeting quite upset, almost desperate.” Felicia’s dark-brown eyes held compassion.
“I’m stunned. That’s all I can say. Is there anything else?”
Stuart leaned forward. “She said something about having to talk to Terrance Robb. You might ask him if he knows why she wanted to cancel it. We were all surprised.”
“He’s already gone.”
“No, he’s still in town for a birthday party for his wife. It’s next Friday night at her parents’ house. You might try to contact him then.”
“Thank you, I’ll do that.” Ellie tossed back the small cup of water, then crumpled it in her hand. “I’d better let you get on with your meeting.”
Isaac walked her to the door and took her hand. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need. Mac was important to all of us.”
“I will.” She rushed out of the musty room and up the stairs to push through the door into the sunshine. The fresh air cleared the dankness from her lungs.
Why would Mac have wanted to cancel the big coup she’d worked so hard for? Ellie pulled out her phone and called Grayson.
“I was about to call you. Are you done for the day? I just saw Dylan heading into Harvey’s Pier.”
“I can come now. I was wondering if you could get an invitation to a birthday party next Friday.” She explained what she’d found out. “Candace Robb’s dad is a Coastie, and I thought they’d probably be in attendance at their daughter’s party so maybe you could get an invitation. I need to talk to Terrance Robb.”
“I think I can manage that. When is it?”
“On Friday night.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Meet you at Harvey’s Pier.”
Things were spiraling out of control. With all the information being tossed at her head, Ellie had no idea what to believe about her sister.
Chapter 21
Repairing doors and locks is like riding a bike. Once you learn how, you never forget.
—HAMMER GIRL BLOG
When Mackenzie opened her eyes, she saw nothing. Total blackness pressed in on her from every side. She bit back a groan as she struggled to sit up. Her head throbbed in time with her heartbeat, and she touched a warm, sticky substance at her temple and found the skin stitched together at her hairline.
The springs underneath her squeaked a protest as she swung her legs over the side, and she ran her fingers along the surface of the mattress and down the bed frame. She appeared to be lying on a narrow metal cot. How long had she been here? Days or hours? She thought it might be days.
She forced herself to stand and groped along the wall in the dark. She smashed her shin against cold porcelain. A toilet. She skirted it and continued around the next corner where she came to a door. She tugged on the knob, but she was so weak she could barely turn it. By her calculations the space seemed to be the size of a small bedroom, but the lack of windows and the dank smell told her she was likely in a basement.
This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. She and Tarek were supposed to be together, and she’d intended to talk him out of his plans. But the attack had come out of the blue. Had he found out what she’d done?
Her throat and chest tightened, and she forced herself to take slow breaths. Calmer, she ran her
fingers over the latch and doorknob, both old and crusty with rust. She pressed her ear to the latch and heard the faint trickle of water. No amount of screaming would lift her voice out of this deep hole, so she didn’t waste her strength.
She touched the wall on the other side of the door and felt a light switch. She flipped it on, and light flooded the room. She flinched and closed her eyes until they began to adjust, then lifted her lids and peered around the room. A bare bulb swung from an open socket above her head. Cracks spidered across the concrete floor, and the only furnishings in the space were the cot and the old, stained toilet.
Only then did she look down at herself. She wore a hospital gown, but there were still traces of blood on her skin. Her arm ached, and she saw a puncture and the stickiness left by IV tape. Her head swam a bit, and she tottered to the cot and sat down with a thump, then put her head between her legs until her vision cleared.
Did she have anything she could use to pick the lock? When the dizziness abated, she stood and saw her jeans hanging over the end of the bed. She stuck her hands into the pockets of her jeans but came up with only lint. The cot felt a long way down as she dropped back onto its hard, lumpy surface. She had to get out of here.
Her head continued to throb, but the light-headedness began to ease. She slid off the cot onto her knees and looked the bed over. The legs screwed onto the frame, and she tried to twist the one at the bottom right side. The rust had it stuck fast, so she tried the other bottom one. It moved slightly under her fingers, but before she could get it loose, she heard footsteps outside the door.
She scrambled back to the cot and sat waiting with her pulse galloping in her chest. Her vision blurred again, and she put her head between her legs for a moment. When the hinges on the door screeched, she lifted her head. She clutched her hands together in her lap and tried to compose herself as a beautiful Asian woman entered the room.
She wore a deep-blue dress that complemented her figure. “Your meal.” She spoke English but with a slight Korean accent, and her gaze flickered over Mac and dismissed her.
The House at Saltwater Point Page 14