Hooked (A Romance on the Edge Novel)

by Tiffinie Helmer

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Sonya wiped a circle through the fogged up window with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Sure enough, there was the Calypso, bold as brass, right off her portside.

  Damn it, she was fishing here. Or at least, she was in a fishing period. Once again, too many nosey set netters would be witnesses to the Calypso harassing her. Speculation swam faster than spawning salmon rushing to mate upriver. She opened the window, leaned out, and hollered, “What do you want?”

  “It’s official business, Sonya,” Garrett said, standing strong—and oh so sexy—on deck with his feet braced apart against the choppy waves buffeting the trooper vessel.

  What could have happened now? She had everyone she cared about on board.

  Except her grandparents.

  That thought shook her to the core and had her grabbing her rain jacket, struggling into it while she hurried to the deck. Everyone in the pilot house followed in her wake.

  Garrett stood proud and enforcement-like, decked out in his dark blue uniform with matching raingear. A ball cap shielded his face from the drenching sheets of rain that seemed to assault the rest of them who were hunched over in an attempt to lessen the biting downpour. Only Garrett seemed above the elements, as though nothing, least of all, something as weak as water could bend him.

  Garrett’s face hardened when Aidan stepped up beside her.

  “Did something happen to Grams and Gramps?” she asked.

  Garrett’s face softened and so did his voice, more the lover, than the enforcer. “As far as I know, they’re fine, Sonya. This doesn’t concern them. We’re following up with our investigation into Kendrick’s death.”

  A lot of those words sounded official and caused a shiver of dread to run down her spine. “May we tie up?” he continued.

  She was surprised he even asked.

  “Uh, sure.” Sonya turned to her crew. Wes and Peter grabbed the ropes the Calypso threw over, and Garrett, along with Judd, boarded her boat. She caught a glimpse of Skip’s face from the cabin of the Calypso and it caused another finger of dread to chase after the previous one.

  “Sonya,” Garrett said, interrupting her eye contact with Skip. “We need to talk with you. Alone.” He glanced at her motley crew, his stare dwelling on Aidan.

  “Lana and I should be checking our net anyway,” Aidan said. “You need anything, Sonya, and I mean anything, we’re just a holler away.” They quickly dressed in the rest of their gear and went to the stern to pull in their skiff.

  “Well, I guess Peter and I should do the same,” Wes said, elbowing Peter whose attention had been caught on Lana as she bent over to put on her chest waders.

  “Uh, right.” Peter turned to Sonya. “That is unless you want us to stay.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.”

  “Sure you shouldn’t have a lawyer present?” Her brother sized up Garrett, his eyes narrowed. “I know the law, and she doesn’t have to talk to you unless she wants to.”

  “Peter, I’ll be fine,” Sonya repeated.

  “Don’t give up your rights, Ducky. You didn’t have anything to do with Kendrick and they know it. If things get too hot, demand your right to speak with a lawyer and boot them off the boat.” It gladdened her heart to have her baby brother come so strongly to her defense. Wasn’t this the same boy, who just weeks ago, hadn’t wanted much to do with her? Now he was giving her advice. On legal matters, no less. She hoped he wasn’t thinking lawyer as a career choice. The cost of tuition for a law degree had to be outrageous.

  “Thanks,” Sonya said, “but I can handle this.”

  Peter turned to Garrett and met his eye, man to man. “I know you’re sweet on her, but you hurt her and you’ll have me to contend with, comprende?”

  To Garrett’s credit, he didn’t crack a smile, though Judd glanced away to hide his amusement. “You have my word, Peter. I’ll do everything in my power to protect your sister.” They did some more of that man stare stuff, which must have satisfied Peter, for he nodded, donned his gear, and climbed off the boat into the waiting skiff with Wes.

  “We’ll be watching. Sonya, you need anything, give us a shout.”

  “Got it, Peter.”

  “That’s quite the young man you’ve raised,” Garrett said, after Wes and Peter motored off.

  A blush of pleasure heated her cheeks over the compliment. “Thank you.” She motioned for the men to follow her out of the rain. They entered the pilot house to a mess of empty hot chocolate cups, a half finished bag of peanut butter cookies, and an interrupted game of Rummy. Sonya busied herself cleaning up cups, cookies, and cards.

  Garrett pointed to the game. “Who was winning?”

  “Wes. He’s a card shark. I swear he cheats, but I haven’t been able to catch him at it.”

  Judd and Garrett shared a look.

  Sonya eyed both men. “What does that mean?”

  “Why don’t we all take a seat?” Judd said, standing by the cleared bunk, his body blocking the door. Garrett leaned against the counter, choosing to stand between the two of them, and Sonya settled into the captain’s chair feeling anything but in charge.

  “How much do you know about Wes Finley?” Judd started.

  “Excuse me?” Sonya glanced at Garrett, but he just stared at her as though gauging her reaction. “What about Wes?”

  “Are you aware he has a record?” Judd continued.

  What the hell was he talking about? Then realization dawned. “You mean his juvie record?”

  Judd nodded, reaching into his jacket and pulling out his notepad. Flipping through the pages, he came to a stop on the information he was after. “Vandalism, grand theft, assault and battery.”

  Sonya shrugged her shoulders, hoping they didn’t see how much their knowledge of Wes’s illicit past upset her. “Who hasn’t acted out when they were teenagers? How did you get that information anyway? Those records are supposed to be sealed.”

  “So, you are aware of Finley’s record?” Judd asked. Garrett had yet to say anything. She wondered if it was by choice or orders from his superior.

  “Of course.” Though the assault and battery was new. “Gramps dropped the grand theft charges after Wes made restitution.” She directed her next question toward Garrett. “Did you investigate all of us?”

  Garrett met her eyes without flinching. “Yes.”

  She sucked in a breath. Well, he didn’t believe in sugar-coating the truth, now, did he? Neither did she. “Why?”

  “It’s a murder investigation, Sonya. Part of the job.”

  “How deep will you dig?”

  His eyes were unapologetic as they burrowed into hers. “As deep as I need to.”

  “Who’s next?” she asked, anger making her voice snap. “Peter? Do you think he had anything to do with this? Gramps? Oh, no! It’s Grams, isn’t it? There’s her extensive knowledge of weapons, and everyone knows she has a talent with a knife. A hook would be child’s play for her. Let me guess, Aidan’s next? Or is Aidan who you’re after all along and you’re just throwing Wes to the wolves to provide a smoke screen?” She took a breath and raised a brow. “How am I doing?”

  Garrett’s lips twitched. “Not bad.” He turned to Judd. “What’d I tell you?”

  “She’s quick.” Judd nodded, an admiring smile playing along his lips.

  “She’s also in the room and doesn’t have time for this kind of bullshit.” Sonya stood to show them the door, but a wave knocked her off balance, and she stumbled back into her chair.

  “We’re not done,” Garrett said in his trooper voice. This time, instead of sending a tingle down her spine, dread returned. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say. She knew without a doubt it was going to ruin her already dismal day. “Aidan Harte is an interesting character. How much to do you know about him?”

  “A lot. Why don’t you just tell me what you came here for? I’ve got fish to catch.”

  “You’re aware that he writ
es graphic novels?” At her nod, Garrett continued, “Have you ever read one?”

  She met his stare, not liking where this was going. “I know they revolve around spirit totems.” She rolled her eyes as she understood where Garrett was going with this. “And there is a smartass heroine who looks a lot like me.”

  “Are you also aware that he killed her off in his last novel?”

  No, she wasn’t. She dragged in a breath. “It’s fiction, Garrett. The hero is also a shape shifter.”

  “The hero and heroine were at odds with each other before she was sacrificed.”

  Sacrificed? She gulped and hoped Garrett hadn’t seen her reaction to his words. “What’s your point?”

  “You don’t see any similarities, Sonya?”

  “I repeat, Aidan writes fiction. He might take some life experiences and twist them to fit in his novels, but that is all.”

  “Why was Aidan onboard your boat? Last night he was shooting at us and today you welcomed him aboard?”

  “We’ve been over that. He wasn’t shooting at us. He was scaring off a bear.” She indicated the once again, fogged up windows. “If you haven’t noticed, it’s miserable out there. We, including Aidan and Lana, were taking a break from the weather. Warming up with a game of cards and having mug-up.”

  “How much do you know about Earl Harte?”

  The swift change in subject knocked Sonya off course. “He’s cranky, mean, and not a nice guy. Why?”

  “Were you aware that your mother took out a restraining order against him?”

  “My…mother?” Where was Garrett headed? She felt like he was leading her through a fogbank. “No.” Her brow furrowed. Why hadn’t anyone told her about this before? “When?”

  “Before your parents married. From what we could tell, your mother dated both Earl and your father the summer she was employed as a cannery worker for Trident. Your dad won out, but Earl wasn’t willing to let her go.”

  “Yeah, but that was…Thirty some odd years ago.” Who holds onto a grudge that long?

  “The Harte brothers have also spent many a night in jail for criminal mischief, drunk and disorderly, domestic assault, and the list goes on,” Judd added, reading from his notes.

  “Is this all you have?” Another big wave hit the boat, and she grabbed the edges of her chair. A sloshing sound echoed and distracted her until Garrett’s next words interrupted her speculation.

  “There’s more. We received the preliminary report back from the medical examiner in Anchorage. Kendrick’s cause of death is being ruled as a homicide. You were right. He’d been in the mud for a time. They found traces of it in his lungs. His blood alcohol level was over the legal limit. He probably never knew what hit him.”

  “Also,” Judd added, “with his blood alcohol level so high, he probably didn’t have a lot of fight in him.”

  “Meaning, anyone, including me, could have easily gaffed and helped him overboard,” Sonya said.

  “The gaff stab wouldn’t have killed him,” Garrett revealed. “The incoming tide, mixed with the alcohol, did. Drunk as he was, the man was beyond helping himself. I’m thinking now the person who attacked Kendrick hadn’t planned on killing him. Chances are Kendrick never knew who stabbed him. The attacker probably figured that when Kendrick pulled himself back onboard his boat, and found your sunglasses, he would have retaliated. Not many fishermen have jeweled dragonflies on the frames of their sunglasses. We know you didn’t do it, Sonya.”

  “Yeah, but until you find the real person, I’m all you’ve got.”

  “Not with me as your alibi,” Garrett said, iron in his voice.

  “There is more than one way to be prosecuted, Garrett.” Sonya cocked an ear as that same strange sloshing repeated when the boat rocked again with the waves. It sounded like it was coming from below deck. That couldn’t be right unless—

  She was taking on water.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Garrett paused in what he’d been about to say as Sonya suddenly went whiter than the condensation clouding the inside of her windows, and jumped to her feet.

  “Out of my way.” She pushed passed him, out into the rain, and slid down the steps to the deck. Garrett and Judd followed in time to see her lug off the metal manhole cover to the engine compartment.

  Sonya swore, but it sounded more like a desperate prayer. She stood, turned, and tried to push through him and Judd again, but Garrett caught her in his arms, the rain making his hold slippery. “What’s going on, Sonya?”

  “We’re sinking.” The shock of her words lessened his hold, and she slipped through, running for the pilot house.

  Garrett turned to look down into the hold. Sure enough, water was filling the compartment. After a few cranks of the engine, Sonya got it started. She leaned through the window and hollered, “Garrett, grab that hose. Yes, there, wrapped around the hook. Submerge that end into the water while I turn on the pump.” She engaged the pump, and water began spraying out of the other end of the hose into the ocean.

  “What’s going on over there?” Skip shouted from the Calypso.

  “The Double Dippin’s taking on water.”

  “How bad is it? Do I need to untie?”

  “Don’t know yet,” Garrett returned. “Hang tight. We’ll keep you posted.”

  Sonya leaned back out the window. “Judd, get up here.”

  Judd looked to Garrett. “Who’s in charge here?”

  “She’s the captain. Now get your butt up there and see what she needs.”

  Judd grumbled about the messed up chain of command, but made his way back up to the pilot house while Garrett concentrated on keeping the end of the industrial-size hose sucking water out of the hold. Sonya dashed back carrying a Mag flashlight. Before he could suggest that he head down into the engine room, she was already lowering herself into the compartment.

  “Sonya, let me crawl down there.”

  “My boat.” She glared up at him, donned ear muffs to protect her ears from the noise of the engine. Then she ducked her head and was gone. Garrett kneeled on the wet deck, still holding the hose, and lowered his head into the compartment so he could keep her in his sights.

  The situation smelled fishy.

  “Hand me that toolbox,” Sonya hollered, giving him directions before he could ask, “to your left against the rail.”

  “Don’t touch anything until I take a look.”

  She scowled. “I have water coming in and you want to take time to look around.” She motioned to the rising water she stood knee-deep in. “There is no time.”

  “Sonya, calm down.” He knew this situation had to be bringing up horrific nightmares of her family drowning. She was handling it pretty well though, considering. “The pump will take care of most the excess water. Hold the hose and let me come down there.” He kept his voice even, mellow, hoping it would help recede the panic he could hear in hers.

  “Fine.” She steadied the hose as he lowered himself into the tight area.

  The sound of the engine, along with the running pump, was deafening in the enclosed space. The pungent tang of oil and diesel mixed with saltwater assaulted his nose.

  “There.” Sonya pointed, indicating where water seeped in like a garden hose left in the on position.

  Garrett bent farther to investigate. He knew about boats, mostly driving and diving out of them due to his SEAL training, but this complicated engine room was above his expertise. He was a cop not a fisherman. “Explain what I’m looking at,” he said.

  Sonya pointed to a pipe that came up out of the floor with a metal plate bolted over it, where the water was spewing in. “This is the impeller plate, it seals the drain.” She indicated the pipe. “When we winterize the boat after the season, and store it at the cannery over the winter, the bolts are loosened to drain any water left in the pump. If left unsealed, ocean water leaks in when the boat is launched.”

  “I take it no one’s fiddled with this since the beginning of the season.”


  She shook her head. “There wouldn’t be a need to.”

  Garrett bent to get a closer look at the bolts on the metal plate. “Let me see your flashlight.” Sonya handed him the Mag. He shined it on the bolts, and fingered the edges of the hex-cut heads. “These are fresh tool marks.” Seemed as though someone had been in a hurry to loosen them. Maybe while others onboard were playing a hand of cards? “How long would it take for this much water to spill in?”

  “Sitting at anchor, maybe a few hours, could be less.” Sonya turned his attention to some cut wires, fingering them. “Look at this. These go to the alarm that’s supposed to sound when the water level in here rises. Someone disabled it.”

  Their gazes met, each serious, though hers still held traces of fear and panic. “Someone tried to sink my boat.”

  “No,” he said, his tone deadly. “Someone attempted to kill you.”

  Wet and freezing, Sonya stood on deck, having just climbed out of the cramped, cold engine compartment, and wiped water out of her face. The unrelenting rain just wetted it again, sinking through her already drenched clothes and into her clammy skin. Now that the crisis was over, the bolts retightened on the impeller plate, and the sinking of her boat diverted, she physically shook from the aftermath. What if they hadn’t been able to stop it? What if she hadn’t figured out what the sloshing sound had been in time? What would she have done if forced into the open water?

  Garrett joined her after settling the heavy engine plate in place. “You okay?” His eyes narrowed.

  “Fine,” she replied robotically. She was far from fine. She pointed to Wes and Peter busy picking fish, hoping to distract him and herself. “Looks as though the fish arrived.” At least that was some good news.

  “What happened to your rain jacket?” Garrett snagged her attention again.

  For some reason she was having a hard time focusing, as though she didn’t want to deal with the reality of what had happened, or what could have happened.

  “Sonya,” Garrett said, his voice sharper this time.

  “Hmm?” She’d really like a nap. Wanted to lie down and forget this even happened. Yep, now that sounded like a plan.