Overboard: Nightforce Security Series - Book 3

by Beck, Keira

  “But he’s not a cop killer,” Alana said.

  “Doesn’t matter. That’s what the DA is arguing. It’s going to be up to us to prove otherwise,” Mako said. “You got any leads, Dec?”

  “I must be on the right track, because I’ve had a couple of incidents since the marina. I just don’t know what track I’m on.”

  “Incidents? What kind of—hold on a minute.”

  While Declan waited, he looked at Alana. She stared at the phone like she was willing Mako to return with good news.

  “You still there?” Mako asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Take me off speaker.”

  Declan started to switch to the handset, but Alana grabbed his arm. “No, Mako. If you know something about my brother, I have a right to know.”

  “But you don’t need to hear it from me. Maybe you should get back to the house.”

  “What happened?”

  “Declan? Speaker?”

  “You might as well just tell her now. If you don’t, she’ll just nag me to death as soon as we hang up.”

  Mako expelled a colorful string of curse words then sighed. “Scott Bruno is no longer missing at sea.”

  “That’s great! Wait…” Alana bit her lip, and the hope in her eyes flickered out.

  Declan took her hand and squeezed it.

  Mako sighed. “His body was found an hour ago.”

  * * *

  After Declan got the location from Mako, he headed back toward the gated community they’d scoped out earlier.

  “Where are you going?” Alana asked. “We need to go the other direction.”

  “I’m taking you home.”

  “You’re doing no such thing! I’m going with you.”

  “They’re not going to let us near the scene, anyway.”

  “Then why are you going?”

  “To see if I can learn something.”

  “Then I’m going, too.”

  “Not in my car.”

  “Fine. I’ll drive myself. I can probably find out more on my own without you slowing me down, anyway.”

  Declan clutched the steering wheel tighter. The woman could try Job’s patience. “I slow you down?”

  “Well, let’s see. So far, I’ve had to fish you out of the lake, wake you up, sit with you at the phone store, and direct you all over town. All things that took up time when I could have been investigating Scott’s…” She spun away from him and stared out her window.

  “Alana, you can’t even say the word ‘murder’. What makes you think you can look at a corpse? Especially when you knew the guy?”

  “Because my brother needs my help.” There was a waver in her voice. “You don’t even believe he’s innocent.”

  “We been through this. You know I do.”

  She turned and looked at him. “Prove it. Set my mind at ease.”

  “How many times do I have to say it?” He ran his hand through his hair. “It wasn’t a matter of changing my mind. If I’m investigating, I’m supposed to be objective, right? So I was. I had no opinion at first. None. Now, everything indicates someone is trying to make Adam take the fall. I promise, I’m on your side. And I’m committed to solving this case.”

  Alana sighed. “At least we’re on the same side now.”

  “We always were.” Almost always. “Can I please take you home now?”

  She crossed her arms.

  “Fine.” He made a U-turn at the intersection and headed for the address Mako sent him. At least if she was with him, he could try to keep her from seeing the worst of it.

  * * *

  Even if Declan had wanted to get close to the body, he couldn’t have. Police had the recovery zone cordoned off, maintaining a much wider berth than usual. After parking roughly fifty yards away, they climbed out of the car and he scanned the area with binoculars.

  Alana reached for them. “Let me see.”

  He pulled away and continued staring through the lenses. A charter fishing boat was moored between two Coast Guard vessels. Several squad cars and the coroner’s van were closest to the docks. The body was already in a black bag on a gurney and was being wheeled toward the transportation vehicle. Looked like the entire police force had shown up to witness the recovery.

  Declan offered her the binoculars. “Nothing to see. Body’s being loaded into the coroner’s van.”

  She snatched them from him and scanned the docks. “This is all your fault!”

  “My fault? What exactly am I taking the blame for?”

  “For getting us here late. That’s probably the only clue we’ll get, and we missed it!”

  “Exactly what did you think you’d discover from all the way back here? A carpet fiber? An errant strand of hair?”

  Alana shoved the binoculars into his chest then crossed her arms. “If there was nothing to see here, why’d we rush over?”

  “Let’s get something straight. ‘We’ are not investigating this. I am. I don’t have to tell you what I’m doing or even take you with me.”

  “You’d be lost without me. You’d have nothing.”

  “You’ve saved me some time, but don’t think you’re my exclusive source of information. I could have gotten any of this from other interviews.”

  “Maybe. If you hadn’t drowned in the lake first.”

  “I don’t need this right now. I’m not even supposed to be working yet. I was on vacation.”

  “I know. You rented one of our cabins. Just another thing I did for you, by the way.”

  “Anoth—Are you kidding me? I rented that cabin before any of this happened, and I paid a premium for it, thank you very much. And you let me believe you were a real estate agent, not a property owner.”

  “What difference does it make what I do?”

  “It makes a difference because people like you are always looking down on people like me. You’ve done nothing but try to micromanage my investigation this entire time, like I’m not capable of doing it without you. You question my motives, you insult my methods. I’d ask why you even bother, since you clearly think you’re out of my league, but I know why. You’re convinced you’re better than me, and you’re determined to prove it.”

  “Right. My brother’s wedding was interrupted by the death—possible murder—of his best friend. A crime he’s being blamed for. But my biggest concern is crushing your ego.” Alana’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried more impact than if she had shouted.

  When she stepped around him and walked away, he was too ashamed to chase her.

  Self-flagellation was an option—one richly deserved—but he didn’t have time for it. Instead, he meandered toward the dock and assessed the scene.

  The coroner’s van was pulling away, followed by the squad cars. It was the funeral procession without the funeral, the officers traveling single-file behind their fallen comrade-in-arms.

  Things were getting ugly. Fast. He needed a better lead than two broken taillights, or Adam Morgan might go to prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Assuming he lived to see a trial. If he was getting roughed up when being held under suspicion of murdering a cop, he’d be in a lot more danger now that the body had been recovered.

  The crime tape had come down, the traffic had thinned, and even the Coast Guard ships had gone. All that remained were the usually nosy neighbors and the fishing charter. Unless he missed his guess, that guy didn’t plan on sailing again today, so he had to be among the people still milling about.

  Declan scanned the scant crowd, gaze darting face to face to face until he saw a duo who looked far more stricken than curious. Had to be the ones who found the body. They were his target. He made his way over to them.

  Neither seemed to notice him standing there.

  He cleared his throat. “Excuse me. Are you all right?”

  The older of the two reacted first. He slowly turned and met Declan’s gaze, but his eyes were glassy, unfocused. “Sorry. Come again?”

  Definitely had the right guys. Thes
e two were in shock. The younger—maybe sixteen, seventeen years old—was a pallid shade of green. He wavered on his feet.

  “Why don’t we go across the street? I’ll buy you guys lunch.”

  The kid blanched. “I can’t even…”

  “You’re right,” Declan said. “Food might be a little hard to swallow right now. How about ice cream? Or a snow-cone? You’d be surprised how much sugar can help at a time like this.”

  The kid stumbled forward.

  “My son’s allergic to peanuts.” The man blurted the information like it was all one word.

  “No peanuts. I’m sure we can find something. Let’s go get you off your feet.”

  Declan led them across the street to an ice cream shop. They walked like zombies, feet shuffling, gazes unfocused. Asshole cops shouldn’t have left them that way. What if they had tried to drive home?

  The kid ordered lemon sherbet in a cup. The dad a small vanilla cone. Declan paid for their orders and got himself a blackberry milkshake. After they were seated at a little table outside, he wondered if either would bother to take a bite. When the man noticed the ice cream dripping on his hand, he licked his knuckles clean then started eating. He nudged his son, who finally took a bite.

  Declan was right—the sugar helped. As they devoured the frozen treats, color came back to their faces, alertness back to their eyes.

  The man offered his hand. “Thank you. I’m Justin Price. This is my son, Gage.”

  His hand was still tacky from the dribbled ice cream. “Declan Flynn.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Flynn. We were a little out of sorts back there. I appreciate the kindness.” He elbowed his son. “Gage?”

  “Yes, sir.” Gage reached across the table. “Thanks.”

  At least his hand wasn’t sticky. “No problem. You guys okay now?”

  “Much better, thanks.” Justin wiped his hands on a napkin.

  “I take it you two are the ones who found the guy.”

  Gage’s eyes widened.

  Justin paused in the act of dropping the napkin on the table. “How’d you know about that?”

  “Wasn’t hard to figure out. Cops and the coroner’s van suggest a death. Coast Guard ships indicate it was probably on the water. The two of you were the only ones standing there without morbid fascination on your faces.” Declan shrugged.

  Gage circled his arms on the table and rested his head on them, hiding his face.

  Justin patted his back. Then he looked at Declan. “It was supposed to be a lazy afternoon. A father-and-son fishing trip on the lake. Didn’t even expect to catch anything. Just sailing a little, then hanging the lines in the water while we shot the breeze. He’s going to college in the fall. Won’t have many more times like these.”

  Declan didn’t know anything about father-son relationships, but he knew his grandmother had struggled when he left for the Navy, so he could empathize. Of all the memories these two could have made before the kid left home, this had to have been at the bottom of the list. “You feeling better now?”

  The guy scoffed as he looked at his son. “Better? I can’t even…” Then he met Declan’s gaze and mouthed a question so his son didn’t hear. “You ever see a body?”

  Declan nodded.

  “I don’t mean at a funeral home.” His voice was so low, the boy may not have caught it.

  Dec nodded again.

  Justin let out a long, slow breath. “Then you know.”

  “More than I’d like to, yes.”

  “Just supposed to be a father-and-son day on the lake.”

  “What happened?”

  “Told you, we cast the lines. Never thought we’d catch anything. Just sitting there, listening to some Garth Brooks and drinking the wife’s lemonade.”

  “But one of you caught something?”

  Justin’s head bobbed. “Gage’s reel spun. I was as surprised as he was. Maybe more. Helped him bring it in. I remember telling him—”

  “It’s okay.”

  He shook his head.

  Gage sat up, eyes rimmed red. “He told me I’d caught a big one, maybe the catch of a lifetime. Said we’d take a picture of me holding it and hang it on the wall.”

  Shit. It was always the innocent comments that came back to haunt you.

  Justin clapped his son on the back.

  “No offense, Dad, but I don’t want those pics on my wall.”

  “I should just delete them. But if the cops need them for anything.” Justin shrugged.

  “Wait. You have pictures of…?”

  Justin nodded. “I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t know if the line would even hold. I documented our coordinates and took pictures, just in case something happened, while Gage called the Coast Guard. They showed up pretty fast. Handled the… retrieval.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d let me take a look at those photos?”

  Gage’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Justin leaned back and shot a violent glare across the table. “What kind of sicko are you?”

  “Believe me, those aren’t images I want to see.” Declan leaned forward. “It’s for my job.”

  “You a reporter? Because I don’t want these images splashed all over the web.”

  “No.” Declan shook his head. “Not a reporter. I’m with a private firm. I’m investigating the murder.”

  “Cops have it well in hand.”

  “The cops are blaming an innocent man, and consequently, they’ve stopped looking at the clues with any objectivity.”

  “I guess you work for the guy they arrested?”

  “His family.”

  “Doesn’t that make you biased, too?”

  Declan shrugged. “I’m all this guy’s got. The victim has every cop in the tri-state area on his side.”

  Justin drummed his fingers on the table.

  “Look at it this way. If my client is guilty, there won’t be anything I could find to vindicate him. And it’s the only evidence I might get a chance to see.

  He took a deep breath. “Fine. But I don’t want to look at them again.” He turned on the phone and slid it over. “Do what you need to do, but leave me out of it.”

  Declan hurried to send the photos to his himself, then he handed the phone back. “Thanks.”

  “Best of luck to you, Declan Flynn. If you’re on the right side.”

  “I am.”

  He nodded. “Hope so.” Then he turned to his son. “Come on, Gage.”

  Gage rose and shook Declan’s hand. “Mr. Flynn.”

  “Call me Declan.”

  “Declan. I won’t forget this. You helping us, I mean.” He offered a half-wave, then turned and left with his father.

  The kid might not forget the help, but that wasn’t what he really meant. There was nothing about that day Gage would ever get out of his mind. Declan prayed the boy and his dad would find some peace from the nightmare.

  He knew all too well how illusive that kind of peace could be.

  Chapter Nine

  Declan sat at his kitchen table, munching on chips and scrolling through the pictures from Justin’s phone. Twenty-four hours wasn’t a lot of time, but decomp didn’t take long.

  The body was bloated, almost beyond recognition. The complexion had turned a pale, sickly green, and the skin on the swollen hands and feet was wrinkled and pruny. There were signs of a struggle, bruising on his face. Might have been from the fight he and Adam had, might have been a fight with someone else that happened at the time of death.

  The close-up of Scott’s face was the one he studied. No foam around the mouth to indicate drowning. Of course, that could have washed away in the recovery process. But there was faint bruising near the throat, and it was likely more bruising would develop there as time passed. The scratches on his neck were the biggest indicator. He had clawed at someone’s hands—hands around his neck, which in turn had scraped his skin. Declan was no expert, but everything he noticed indicated foul play. Scott definitely didn’t fall in accidentally or jump—he
was strangled.

  That only made things worse for Adam.

  Declan needed to talk to the wedding guests. He needed to find someone else with motive. And he really wanted to know what the cops knew. Did anyone overhear what Adam said to Scott? Did anyone see Scott after the fight in the stateroom? What were the specific findings from the autopsy? It had been several hours, so the medical examiner should have an early report done.

  Time for some reinforcements. He called Danny.

  “Caruso.”

  “Dan. Who do you know that can pull digital records from the police department?”

  “You mean commit a cybercrime?”

  “I prefer to think of it as assisting in an investigation.”

  “As luck would have it, so do I. What’s going on there?”

  Declan filled him in on the particulars of the case, leaving out the damage to his car, the GPS tracker, and the attempt on his life. He wrapped up the summary with a request. “I’d really like to know what evidence the cops have—especially if they have a witness who overheard Adam threaten Scott that afternoon. And I’d like to see the autopsy report. If Scott was strangled, and I’m pretty sure he was, they might have recovered DNA. Doubtful, given he was in the water, but it’s worth a shot.”

  “I’ll check and see if Nico has the time.”

  “Nico?”

  “Dominico Micelli. We go way back. He can get into anything, but he’s got a lot on his plate.”

  “Okay, well, if he’s not free, do you have a backup?”

  “I have a couple of ideas.”

  “Sounds like Nightforce needs to hire a hacker.”

  “I didn’t think we’d be getting into so many investigations, but it seems to be going that way. Probably isn’t a bad idea.”

  “Well, until then, see if one of your contacts can find anything out for me.”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  As soon as he ended the call, someone knocked. He knew who it was without looking. The only person it could be. Declan walked to the front of the cabin and opened the door. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Alana stood there, fidgeting with the strap of her sundress, not meeting his gaze. “Can I come in?”