by Tess Oliver
Cash untied us from the dock and hopped into the boat. He sat in the passenger seat and we puttered away from the marina. Preparations for the evening’s December on the Pier had gotten underway. The city owned a scissor lift just for the occasion. Lights and decorations would be strung across all the storefronts, lighting up the entire pier. Many boat owners were already decorating their masts.
The motor rumbled loudly and the smell of fuel filled the air. “The water is still smooth enough, but in a few hours, it will be hard to steer. Choppy waves are hard on this kind of boat,” I said over the din of the motor. “Seton was the only one who could wakeboard in rough water. Bodhi and I needed glass.” Driving the boat had evoked memories of summer days on the water, days that had been perfectly fun with no crappy stuff to mar them. “I used to watch Seton wakeboard and think he was the toughest, strongest guy on the planet— next to my dad, of course. I was a typical little sister. I bugged him, and followed him around and then he’d get pissed and call me Pita and throw me over his shoulder and turn circles until I got dizzy. Almost puked down his back once. I’d scream but I loved it. Just having him pay attention to me was like gold.”
“Sounds like good memories,” Cash said. “Why Pita?”
I glanced over at him. “Pain in the ass.”
“That’s a good one.”
I pulled back on the throttle, and the bow of the boat lifted up over the crests slamming down on the other side. Cash took hold of the side of the windshield to keep from bouncing off the seat as we coasted across the water toward the cove.
“When did you learn to drive a boat?” he asked.
“In Tucker’s Village, you learn to drive a boat long before you learn to drive a car. It’s just a skill you need to have. Especially if you come from a fishing family. Sometimes, on warm, calm days, I’d get up before dawn and go out with my dad and brothers to fish. Dad would even let me drive the fishing trawler. The day was long, and afterwards, my hair would need a bottle of conditioner and my lips would be so chapped they’d be bleeding, but it was totally worth it.”
I slowed to an idle and stood from the captain’s chair. “Here give it a try. Just remember, there are no brakes.”
We switched seats and Cash pulled back on the throttle. I pointed ahead to the cove and he steered in that direction. “Pretty cool. Little rougher than two tires on asphalt, but I could see tearing it up out here on the water.”
“There’s a great view of the lighthouse and keeper’s cabin when we get around this cliff.” Cold wind slapped my face, and my nose and eyes watered, but I was glad we’d decided to take the boat out. Cash was having a blast. He slowed the boat down as we entered the cove. The water flattened out some, and the bow gently slapped the water as we glided across its surface. A massive flock of seagulls lined the deserted sand of the cove.
I pointed to them. “They like it here away from people and boats. Of course, there are no cheese curls or sandwich crusts, but there are also no fishing lines or noxious fuel fumes to get caught in.”
Cash stared up at the lightkeeper’s cabin. “I’ll bet the view from that place is something else. I can see why you had your sights set on renting it.” He looked over at me. “But it’s sort of remote, isn’t it?”
“Yep, and that’s the best part about it. No neighbors. But some of the place’s mystique has been tainted by its current occupants.”
“Something tells me they won’t be around too much longer.” He put the boat in neutral. “Why don’t you drive over to those public marinas you were mentioning.”
We switched seats. “Yes, detective,” I said. “Maybe you should go into police work.”
He laughed at that suggestion. “I’m pretty sure my shady past would come back to bite me in the ass with that idea.”
I turned the boat out of the cove, and we flew over the water toward the next town. “The public dock has a gas station and a bait store but not much more. Unlike the private docks, where the local’s boats are moored all year, the public marina is rarely used in the winter. If Banyon’s boat is there, it’ll be easy to spot.” I pointed to a metal box on the side of the passenger’s chair. “There should be some binoculars in there.” I smiled over at him. “If we’re going to go all Sherlock Holmesish, then we’d better do it right.”
Cash reached into the box and lifted out the pair of binoculars my dad had stored inside.
“On a clear day, you can see oil tankers and the occasional cruise ship passing by,” I said. “My dad liked to use them to watch for whales and seals. Sea mammals are a good compass for finding where the fish are swimming.”
“I’ll bet.” He lifted the binoculars to his eyes but lowered them quickly. “That’ll make your head spin. I guess they’re better when the boat isn’t moving.”
I pointed through the windshield. “That’s the public marina up ahead. This is the town of Trentville. It’s bigger and more posh than Tucker’s Village, but it doesn’t have a lighthouse. And, I think tourists like the hominess of our town better. Of course, I might have a biased opinion on all that.”
I slowed the boat and headed into a small stretch of water just ahead of the private marina. There were enough boats bobbing up and down along the dock to camouflage our low profile boat. A row of pigeons sat atop a big sign on the public marina that read No Gas Today. It was a sign they displayed whenever the pumps were out of fuel, which happened a lot in winter. There were two boats moored to the public dock.
Cash lifted the binoculars and maneuvered the lenses for a few seconds. “I’m not a boat expert, but I’d say that is the boat we saw in the cove on the day of our picnic…” He lowered the binoculars and cast a grin my direction. “And cave exploration.”
My face warmed at his mention of our first intimate encounter tucked inside the cliffs of Brimby’s Cove. “We have had fun in some rather unusual places,” I said.
“I think that list has only just begun. Now, why are we here? Oh yeah. You and I could never be detective partners. My attention span is pretty shaky when you’re nearby.” He handed me the binoculars. “That second boat doesn’t look all that seaworthy.”
I adjusted the lenses to my eyes. “It’s an old tugboat someone must have converted into a private boat. I’ve actually seen some pretty cool conversions, but that is not one of them. It looks like they bought it from a ghost shipyard. You’re right. Not very seaworthy.” At first glance both boats looked empty but then a figure emerged from the pilot house on the tugboat. “I see Zeke Banyon and another guy who looks related. They don’t look happy.” Zeke’s face was big and meaty, but it was plain to see that he was uneasy about something. The Banyon’s boat was smaller but nicer than the tugboat. It had a rack on the side with a personal watercraft sitting on top of it. “And there’s our boy, Clint.”
Cash took the binoculars. “More guys. Two of them and they both make Zeke Banyon look like a choir boy.”
“I can see a lot of people but from this distance but I can’t make out who is who.”
Cash was suddenly quiet. He squinted into the eyepieces with profound interest.
“What do you see?”
He lowered them. “A lot of tension…and some pretty heavy artillery, which they are brandishing as if they are all invisible.”
I glanced around the marina. “They almost are. There’s hardly anyone out here, and they obviously have no idea they’re being watched.”
Cash handed me the binoculars and pulled out his phone. “It’s kind of far, but I’ll get a few pictures of the boats.”
I narrowed my eyes behind the lenses. “Text these numbers to yourself. I can read the hull identification number from here on the tugboat.” It took some doing between the boat rising and sinking in the tide and the glare from the water, but I read off the numbers. Cash typed them into his phone.
“Esme, I’m getting you a phone. I don’t want you to be without one while all this shit is going down around your family. I’ll just add a phone to my plan.”
I looked at him. “Thank you for worrying about me.”
He took hold of my hand and kissed it. “I guess we can assume that whatever your dad’s got himself involved in, it reaches deeper than just the Ridgewater brothers and the Banyons. From the looks of it, their connections are black market heavy hitters. And you really have to know what the hell you’re doing to step into those dark waters.” He glanced back toward the boats and laughed. “That’ll teach me to think so highly of myself.” The words seemed to have been meant as just an out loud thought, but they’d piqued my curiosity.
“What do you mean?”
He scrubbed back his short hair with his fingers. It was growing in thick and dark. “Last night, when I left your house through the bedroom window, Clint and Banyon followed me on bikes.”
“What? You didn’t tell me. What happened?”
“Nothing really. It was weird. They were trying to get me to take your brother’s spot in the business. I’d told myself it was because they were just scared enough of me to want me as a friend instead of a foe. You know— cut him in on the profit and he won’t be a problem. But now I see they just wanted me because they have hooked up with some dangerous people. They just want a bigger force in case things go south. Which, from the looks on their faces over there, could easily happen.”
“You said no, of course,” I said. He looked slightly hurt that I’d asked. “Sorry, stupid question. What do you think might be happening?”
He shrugged. “Could be the goods weren’t delivered, or if it’s drugs, the stuff might be bad quality or at least a lower quality than promised. A lot can go wrong. And when shit goes wrong, there is usually a domino effect and people get hurt or killed.”
He spoke confidently and plainly and it sent a chill through me.
“Let’s hope things don’t explode. Then, maybe your dad will come to his senses and cut himself loose from these guys. If they let him,” he added.
“I’m so pissed at my dad. I don’t know if I can ever forgive him. I’m just glad Bodhi left town.”
“Yeah, that’s good,” he said, but with some hesitation.
“What? Do you think Bodhi is still in danger?”
He didn’t answer at first.
“Cash?”
“Some of these guys have pretty long arms when it comes to straightening out people who have wronged them. But he’s better off out of town.”
The wind was kicking up, and small waves were cresting and pushing the boat in slow circles. “We need to get back before it’s too choppy.” I was feeling beyond despair. There didn’t seem to be a light or clear end to the dark tunnel my dad and brother had entered. I started the boat and putted out into the open sea. Cash lifted the binoculars to take one last look, but I didn’t want to know anymore.
“Shit, did you say that Clint would know this boat?”
“He used to ski behind it, so I’d say yes.”
“He’s spotted us.”
“Great.” I pulled back on the throttle. The boat speared up into the air and then smacked the surface. We headed back toward the cove.
Cash stuck the binoculars back into the box and shut it. “He’s following on the Waverunner.”
Small waves were breaking in front of us. I had no choice except to slow down. I heard the buzz of the watercraft behind us. The smaller craft was much more agile in the rough water, and it didn’t take Clint long to shoot past us. He grinned obnoxiously and saluted as he sped by. Then he circled around and, as tempting as it was to run him down, I slowed the boat to avoid hitting him. Cash stood and the look on Clint’s face assured me that he hadn’t noticed him sitting in the passenger seat. The arrogance vanished from his expression, and suspicious anger replaced it.
He put the Waverunner in idle. “What the hell are you two doing skulking around the Trentville Marina?”
“Skulking?” I asked. “Good for you using those big, hard words, Clint.”
“Esme was just taking me out for a boat ride,” Cash said. “You and your friends just happened to be in the way.”
He laughed. “Right.” His attention went to the cove. “Maybe you two were heading in for another cozy picnic or to pay respects to old man Moore’s dead son.” It seemed the second the words left his mouth, he wanted to suck them back in. His face paled like white stone.
Cash rested his arm on the top of the windshield and stared out at him. “And why would we come to the cove to pay respects to Hunter?” His voice was cold and steady.
The question made Clint’s mouth tighten. His eyes darted over to me and then back to Cash. He took a deep breath and jutted out his jaw. “I don’t know. Just came to my head because I know you’re hanging with the old man. That’s all.” It was a lame explanation, but the possibility of what was behind his statement was too much to fathom. As cool and calm as Cash remained, there was a tension in his jaw I hadn’t seen before.
“You both need to mind your own business,” Clint said tersely. “And stay the hell away from us.” He fired up the watercraft and dashed away.
Cash watched him ride off. “Were the Ridgewaters still living in the village when Hunter drowned?”
I flipped back through my memory. Certain things, like the horrible tragedy of Hunter’s death, were better left blurry. “I think they left soon afterward.” Now, the chill in the air was nothing compared to the icy fingers that gripped my stomach.
Cash looked at me, but he didn’t need to say anything. We were reading each other’s minds, and none of what was floating around up there was good.
We boated back to Tucker’s Village with little conversation, both lost in our thoughts. Hunter’s death had all but destroyed Ben, and never knowing what had happened to him had made the whole thing that much worse. It had been concluded that Hunter had gotten drunk and fallen overboard. Only that’d never seemed plausible to Ben. Hunter rarely drank. But it was just too insane to think that Clint had somehow been involved with Hunter’s death.
The afternoon sun was still bright, but the lights had been hung and they glittered in the daylight. Boat owners, including Ben, were decorating their boats with lights as well. It was great to see him participating again. I glanced over at Cash. He was still deep in thought.
“Ben hasn’t come to the celebration since he lost Hunter,” I said.
He looked over at me. “Yeah.” He knew why I’d brought it up. For now we needed to let it go. Neither of us had anything to go on other than the strange comment from Clint and his uneasiness afterward. But Clint wasn’t known for brains or social aptitude. Still, it bothered me plenty that both Cash and I had gone right to the same dark notion.
Cash got out and tied off the boat.
“Cash!” Ben called with a wave. “You’re just in time to help with the Molly Ray.”
“I’ll be right there.” Cash held out his hand and helped me out of the boat. He kissed me and held me for a long moment. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“I will be watching for you.”
Chapter 24
Cash
Clint’s puzzling statement and even more squirmy reaction to my questioning of it, stuck with me like a fist in my chest all day. But as Esme had pointedly noted, Ben was finally getting back into the swing of life. Ben had suffered loss and heartbreak and some of the weight of it seemed to finally be lifting from his shoulders. For now, things were better left unsaid. Particularly when I had no real evidence or proof to back it up. We’d spent the rest of the afternoon decorating Ben’s boat. He seemed determined to have the Molly Ray outsh
ine the rest. I’d pulled on my one sweater, black and not exactly festive, but I was limited on clothes, and it was damn cold on the pier at night. The glow of the gold and silver lights lit up the sky over the water and music thrummed in the distance.
It had been rare, but occasionally there had been parties or celebrations at the Bedlam compound. Dreygon Sharpe, the club president, would stick in his rock and roll CDs and the music would pour
down over us from vintage speakers that produced more static than actual music. But there were no lights or holiday sweaters at his parties. Just a lot of drinking, drugs and by the end of the evening, a lot of sex and brawls. And those were the successful Bedlam parties.
I turned the corner onto Esme’s street. She was on the porch. Twister sat dutifully next to her. The light above her head flickered weakly, but she still looked radiant beneath it. She was wearing a dark green dress that hugged all her curves. Cowboy boots finished the already hot look. Her hair was tied up with a matching green ribbon, but a lot of the curls had already broken free.
I gazed up at her from the bottom step. “You already look like a party, so let’s just stay here and see how long it takes me to get that awesome fucking dress off of you.”
“Good try, Mr. Social. We don’t have to stay long though.” She turned around. There was a long zipper that went down the back of the dress all the way to her perfect, round bottom. “And I think this zipper should help when removal time comes.” She spun back around.
“You do realize that I’m going to be thinking about that zipper all night now.”
“I sure hope so.” She hopped down the front steps and into my arms. “I’m so glad you’re coming with me tonight. Everything else feels—” Her face turned down.
“What’s the matter?”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing, except, at the moment, you are the only thing that feels solid to me. Everything else is coming apart, and I can’t keep track of the pieces.”
I looked up at the house. It was empty. “Did they go out on the boat?”
“Yep. And neither of them would say a word or even look at me. They’re in trouble. Deep trouble.” She lifted her face to me. “Let’s go to the pier. There’s nothing we can do about it right now. Besides, I’ve been waiting to dance with you.”
“Uh, about that. I’m not really a dancer.”
She took my hand. “That’s all right. As far as I’m concerned I’ll be happy just standing in your arms. We don’t even have to move our feet. People can just dance around us.”