The House at Saltwater Point

by Colleen Coble

  Mac staggered to her feet. “Please, I need medical attention. I’ve lost a lot of blood.”

  The woman shook her head and backed toward the door. “You aren’t dying, if that’s what you think. You’ve received the best of care, a transfusion and IV nutrition. It’s not up to me what is done with you.”

  What is done with you. Mac swallowed, then wet her lips. Could she rush the woman and overpower her? Even as her muscles tensed for an attack, a fresh wave of dizziness blurred her vision, and she sank back onto the mattress. “Who are you? My name is Mackenzie.”

  “I know who you are. And why you’re here.”

  Mac switched to Korean. “Why am I here? I don’t know you. Are you Hyun?”

  The woman Wang loved answered in Korean. “Ah, you’ve heard of me. I know what you tried to do to us, to Wang. He was wise to your ways, and I’ll do anything I can to make sure you don’t hurt him.” She clamped her lips shut and stepped through the door, then slammed it behind her. The lock clicked into place.

  Mac exhaled and blinked back the moisture in her eyes. Crying wouldn’t help her now. Her worst fears were realized, and she was helpless to warn the authorities.

  A Beatles tune blared from the jukebox as Grayson held open the door for Ellie at Harvey’s Pier. The place was along the waterfront, and from the scent of fish and lobster inside, the food was going to be good and fresh. For a second he wished he could just sit across the table and look at Ellie rather than talk to a dirtbag like Trafford. He liked catching the expressions that flitted across her expressive face. He thought about hiding her glasses from her way too often.

  He did a quick scan of the place. Fishnets draped from the wood walls painted the color of driftwood, and the wide plank floors underfoot made him feel as if he were on a boat. Through the expansive windows, he could see the blue water of Rainshadow Bay.

  Ellie tugged on his arm. “There he is.”

  He followed her gaze to the pool table against the back wall. Dylan was cuing up with another Coastie, a young man about the same age with hair so blond it was almost white.

  He glanced down at her and wished he hadn’t brought her. Something about the confrontation felt dangerous. Trafford was a hothead, and Grayson wouldn’t be surprised to see the guy swing a pool stick at one of them, especially if he’d been drinking.

  He watched Trafford take a swig from a beer. “You could grab us a table while I talk to him.”

  She shook her head. “He might talk to me. I think he really did care about Mac.”

  She might be right, but he didn’t have to like it. He took her arm and steered her through the packed tables.

  Trafford straightened as they approached, and his wary gaze flitted to Ellie, then back to Grayson. “Did you find Mac’s body?”

  Ellie shook her head. “We still don’t know what happened to her. I was hoping you might help us.”

  “She dumped me, remember?” He bent over the pool table and cued up, then took his shot. A blue ball thumped into the left corner pocket.

  His partner eyed them. “Talk to you later, Dylan.” He put down his pool stick and fled.

  Ellie took a step closer. “I saw the video, Dylan. We know she was involved in removing the cocaine from the Coast Guard hangar. Do you have any idea where she intended to take it? Were you in on it too?”

  He jerked around with the pool stick in his hand. “That’s a lie! I had nothing to do with it, and I don’t believe Mac did either. That would mean . . .” He swallowed hard.

  “Mean what?” Grayson prompted.

  “That she only went out with me to locate the cocaine.”

  Grayson hadn’t looked at how long they’d dated. “You only went out after the cocaine seizure?”

  Trafford grabbed the neck of his beer bottle and took another swig. “She introduced herself in that booth right there.” He pointed to a booth near the jukebox. “I was sitting by myself, and she came up to congratulate me. Said she’d heard about the seizure and wanted to meet the man instrumental in it.”

  “Were you? Instrumental, I mean?” Ellie asked.

  “Not really, but she was all wide eyed and admiring so I couldn’t burst her bubble.” His shoulders slumped, and he laid the pool stick down on the table. “Looking back, I have to wonder, you know?”

  Grayson examined the misery in Trafford’s face. Poor guy really did seem to care about Mackenzie, and Grayson was beginning to believe the young woman didn’t deserve Ellie’s loyalty. She had dark depths. He’d hoped he was wrong, but it wasn’t looking that way.

  “Where might she have taken the cocaine?”

  “I would think she’d sell it. I assume it hasn’t hit the street yet?”

  “Not that we can tell. I suppose it could have gotten out of the country, but we’ve been watching smuggling routes pretty closely. I think she took it somewhere here.”

  Ellie’s chin jutted out. “I think she was forced to do it.”

  Trafford barked out a derisive laugh. “No one coerces your sister into anything.”

  Color swept up Ellie’s neck and lodged in her cheeks. “You don’t know her as well as I do.”

  Trafford lifted a brow. “I think maybe you don’t know Mackenzie as well as you think you do. That girl had dark layers. Lots of them.”

  Ellie opened her mouth, then closed it again with a scowl. Grayson knew she wanted to argue but didn’t have any proof to offer. Was any of this getting through to her? It was one thing to be loyal and another thing to be stubbornly blind. She needed to realize her sister wasn’t who she thought she was.

  Grayson would have to handle this now. “Any sign she might be part of a terror cell?”

  Trafford rolled his eyes. “Get real. She was no terrorist.”

  Grayson watched him shift from foot to foot and glance toward the door. “Thanks for your help. If you think of anything else, would you give me a call?” He passed his card to Trafford, then took Ellie’s arm and steered her to an empty booth.

  Chapter 22

  Not just any hammer will do. Select the right one for the job.

  —HAMMER GIRL BLOG

  Ellie flung herself into the booth and wished she could throw something. “Why does everyone say such terrible things about Mac? You could tell by talking to him that he had something to do with this. He doesn’t want you to be suspicious of him, so he’s making sure you believe Mac did it on her own.”

  Grayson’s blue eyes held a dark shadow. “Ellie, I think he was telling the truth. He seemed genuinely hurt at the thought that Mac was using him to get to the cocaine.”

  The words slammed into her heart. “Gray, you said you’d keep an open mind, that you’d look at all the options.”

  He smiled. “Only my sister calls me Gray. It sounds good coming from you.” He reached across the table to take her hand. “I’ve been doing that. And you promised you’d keep an open mind too. I don’t think you want to face Mac’s true character.”

  The warm press of his fingers did something funny to her pulse, and she pulled her hand away. “Where is my sister? Or at the very least, her body?”

  “I wish I knew, honey.”

  The endearment threw her for a moment. She liked this guy with his broad shoulders and caring manner way too much. It was hard to believe she’d only met him a week ago. “Nothing makes sense.”

  “Maybe it doesn’t.” His gaze softened, and he shrugged. “I don’t see how all the dots connect, not yet. I don’t like how I was taken off the case. That points to something bigger than we might realize.”

  “An EMP bomb?”

  “Maybe.” A troubled frown settled on his forehead. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. Maybe I should follow orders and back off.”

  Warmth spread into her chest, and she couldn’t look away. “I-I’m sure I’ll be fine. Even if you back off, I’m not going to. They can’t make me. Mac is my sister.”

  “I worry about you.”

  “I don’t want someone hovering
over me. I can take care of myself. If nothing else, I have my hammer.”

  He grinned. “Hammer Girl. That’s a good nickname for you. I’ve yet to see you swing a hammer with intent.”

  “I have a blog by that name. It’s got a pretty good following. Come out to the House at Saltwater Point and watch me. You wouldn’t believe all we’ve got done.”

  “I’ll have to do that.” His phone dinged, and he pulled it from his pocket to view it. “Looks like my date and I are invited to the Robb birthday bash next weekend. Black tie.” He glanced up from the phone and grinned. “I wouldn’t wear a monkey suit for just anyone. I’ll have to rent a tux, and you’ll have to buy a new dress.”

  Her chest squeezed. “I don’t think I’ve ever gone shopping for a new dress without Mac’s advice.”

  He waggled a brow at her. “My sister Izzy would tell you I have an accurate eye for what looks good on her. I could go with you. How about we head to Seattle tomorrow? We could talk Shauna into flying us in her chopper.”

  It was an appealing idea, and she could no more say no than she could stop breathing. “Okay.” Her voice sounded a little breathless. “If she’s busy, we could go to Port Townsend. They have a few shops.”

  “Nope, we’re going to Seattle. Only the best for this shindig. If Shauna is busy, Zach would probably fly us. Let me check.” He bent his head over the phone as he texted Shauna and Zach.

  What kind of guy offered to go dress shopping? Not a single one of her friends had ever talked about their husbands taking them shopping for clothes. Most men wouldn’t be caught dead in a women’s department.

  He looked up and caught her gaze. “What?”

  “Just wondering if you have an ulterior motive. You’re going to toss me out of the chopper to shut me up, right?”

  His mouth eased into a grin. “You figured it out.” His phone dinged again, and he pumped his fist in a triumphant gesture. “Yes! Shauna is snickering about it, but for your sake I’ll endure her mockery.”

  A chuckle erupted from her, and she put her hand over her mouth. “I think we should record tomorrow’s events. No one will believe it if I tell them.”

  “I hope you’re not telling anyone. My reputation as a big, bad dude might be compromised.” His grin widened. “Want to go for a run after dinner? I haven’t had any exercise since I got here.”

  “You might have to carry me.”

  “I’m game.”

  She smiled back. “Okay, let’s give it a try.”

  The server arrived with menus and Ellie took one, then peeked over it at Gray. She liked him way too much for her own peace of mind.

  Mackenzie’s headache had finally subsided to a dull roar instead of a full-on scream, and she wasn’t quite as dizzy. She hoped she was beginning to recover. Her fingers throbbed from unscrewing the bed leg. She sat on the cold, hard floor and studied the metal appendage she’d managed to obtain after hours and hours of weak effort. What had she thought to do with it? It was only six inches long and had no sharp edges.

  She palmed the end that connected to the frame and brought up the smaller tip in a swooping arc. It might work as a weapon if she managed to thrust it into someone’s eye. The thought of doing that made her stomach roil. She started to discard the bolt, then thought better of it and stuck it in her pocket.

  The soup the woman had brought had congealed in the bowl, but Mac reached over and pulled the tray closer. She had to be strong enough to attack. She forced herself to slurp down the nasty mess, then tossed back the tepid water. Her stomach rebelled a bit, and she swallowed hard to keep it down. The nausea gradually subsided, and she felt stronger when she rose and went to the door.

  There was no sound on the other side. How long before someone came to check on her again? Hours probably. She dug the bolt out of her pocket. It might not fit through the keyhole. She squatted in front of the door and inserted the bolt. It didn’t go in at first, and she maneuvered it until it scraped through, but it needed to have a bend in it to unlock the door.

  She and Ellie had helped their dad around the house many times over the years, and she’d helped Ellie and Jason often enough with their remodeling business. Though they’d never come up against an antique lock like this, she knew how it worked by principle. What else could she use to pick the lock?

  She glanced at the tray the woman had brought in. The spoon handle might work if she could bend it. She grabbed it, then lifted the cot and placed the tip of the spoon under one leg. Sitting on the cot for weight and leverage, she bent down and pulled on the spoon. It was flimsy and bent easily. This just might work.

  Heartened, she went back to the door and began to manipulate the bent end of the spoon in the skeleton keyhole. The click reverberated through the metal, and she tried the door. It opened easily, but the squeak and scrape of the hinges froze her in place for a minute. When no one came thumping down the steps, she slipped out of the room and looked around in the dark space.

  A dirty window let in a bit of light in spite of the cobwebs covering it. She didn’t think she could squeeze through the opening if she broke the glass pane. She went past the rickety steps to a door on the back wall. When she heard no sound on the other side, she pushed it open to find a dank space filled with boxes and another tiny, dirty window. No escape there, but maybe she could summon help through one of the windows.

  She walked toward the window farthest away from the steps and stepped onto some boxes. The broken glass looked out onto an empty parking lot overgrown with weeds. The area didn’t seem familiar, and scraggly pine trees pressed close to the perimeter of the cracked concrete. How far had they brought her? She went to the room with the steps and peered through the window, only to be greeted with the same view.

  She turned and stared at the steps. It was her only way out. Was anyone upstairs? She hadn’t heard any noise since the woman had brought down lunch. Only one way to find out. The first step creaked when she put her weight on it, and she froze. The door remained closed, and she heard no steps. She braved another step, then another until she reached the top of the steps and touched the doorknob. Was it locked?

  But no, the knob turned easily under her fingers, and she stepped out of the stairwell into what appeared to be a deserted office building. Debris littered the floor, and bullet holes and broken panes let in light past the dirt. Where was this place and how did she get to civilization?

  Before she could decide what to do, the sound of tires crunching on pavement near the front door set her rushing for the back door. She had to get out of here before they came in and discovered her gone. The door wasn’t locked, and she walked outside into the late-afternoon sunlight.

  The forest was a good two hundred feet away, but she ran that way, gasping with weakness. It would take several minutes for them to go downstairs and find out she’d flown the coop. With any luck, they wouldn’t realize she had just escaped.

  The coolness of the forest was like a balm. She plunged through the trees, then spared a glance back at the building. The back door was still shut, and no one was racing after her. Not yet. Maybe she’d escape this after all. She picked her way through the tangle of fallen limbs and tangled vines. Could she be tracked? She looked behind and saw her footprints in the damp weeds as clearly as if she’d walked through cement.

  Maybe there would be a stream up ahead where she could mask her path. She rushed on, trying to ignore how the thumping in her head had resumed. At times she felt so weak and dizzy she had to stop and bend over at the waist until her sight cleared. Her path grew darker as the large trees blocked out more of the sunlight. She reached a run-down fence topped with barbed wire. There was no way she could climb it without getting entangled. She gave it a violent shake. There had to be a way. She hadn’t come this far just to be captured again.

  The bottom of the fence was loose in spots. Maybe she could scoot under. She fell to her knees, then army crawled under the fence. That wasn’t so hard. She staggered to her feet, then back into the f
orest. There seemed to be a deer path or something. Reeling like a drunken person from fatigue and light-headedness, she followed it to a knoll and looked down into a clearing where a charming cottage sat. An old pickup was parked in the drive as well as a motorcycle. Surely they’d help her.

  She hurried down the slope to the back door and peeked through the window into the kitchen. It appeared empty, but surely someone was here. There was that truck.

  A hard hand gripped her forearm. “There you are, Mac. I thought we’d have to get dogs to track you, but you came right home to me.”

  She whirled to stare into the face of the handsome man sporting a thick mass of black curls on his head. Tarek Nasser himself. No amount of yanking and squirming could tug her arm out of his powerful grasp.

  The run was just what Grayson needed. He could almost feel the blood pumping through his veins. When was the last time he’d seen a sunset like this? Maybe never.

  The road ran along the top of a cliff overlooking Rainshadow Bay, then veered through tall stands of Sitka spruce, maple, and Douglas fir that shielded an understory of lady fern and stair-step moss. A black-tailed deer darted across the road in front of them, and a bald eagle soared overhead.

  A sharp cramp hit his wounded leg, and Grayson bent over and gasped for air, then massaged his left calf muscle. “Cramp. Go ahead without me. I’ll catch up.”

  She stopped and wiped her forehead. “I need to catch my breath. I’m not used to jogging.”

  He rubbed his knotted muscles. A thrush peered at them from a huckleberry bush, and he wished they had some bread to throw to it. They were deep in the Olympic Forest, and the quiet of the woods was like an embrace. He really liked it here.

  A black Taurus idled toward them. The windows were tinted, but he had a vague impression of a man with his face obscured by a ball cap. Adrenaline shot up his spine as the car slowed to a stop. Hadn’t Ellie said something about her truck being rear-ended by a black Taurus?