Love Inspired Suspense December 2015, Box Set 2 of 2

by Margaret Daley

  Whereas with Rachel, he used to be able to predict her next move. She knew him better than even Gramps when they were growing up. Everything she was thinking was right there in the open. No guessing. A person knew where he stood with Rachel.

  “Everyone enjoyed themselves, and the prime rib was a big hit.” Jake also didn’t hold a grudge against Brad because he moved in on Celeste when she was engaged. Letting go of the anger freed him. Now he understood what Gramps and Rachel had said about forgiveness. Being mad at Brad and Celeste really only hurt him in the long run. He was the one who stayed away from Port Aurora and let any relationship he had with Rachel dwindle to almost nothing.

  Brad stopped in the middle of the cavernous room and slowly rotated all the way around. “I need to talk to you without people seeing or listening.”

  His hushed tones drew Jake’s full attention and Brad’s action, rubbing his palms together, looking from side to side, held Jake’s concentration. He slipped his hand into his parka and grasped his gun. Had Brad lured him here to kill him? Every nerve ending sharpened its awareness.

  Finally, as though satisfied they were alone, Brad stepped closer and expelled a deep breath. “Some strange things have been going on at the fishery. I think Ivan is doing something illegal behind my back. On Sunday I was going to go into shipping and do some checking, but the lock had been changed. I didn’t authorize that.”

  “Did you ask him about the new lock?” Jake held up his hand for a few seconds while he stuck his other hand into the top shirt pocket and showed Brad he was recording their conversation using his cell phone.

  Brad gave him a slight nod. “Yes. He said he just did it and had forgotten to tell me. He would have a new key for me this week.”

  “What was wrong with the old one?”

  “Nothing. But it was old and could be picked easily according to Ivan.”

  “Is that true?”

  Brad combed his fingers through his hair. “I guess so. Up until Betty’s murder, serious crimes didn’t happen in Port Aurora. I suppose I’ve let security go lax because our town has been relatively untouched by crime, especially in the winter months.” He sighed. “But with the expansion, more people are coming to Port Aurora, and crime is increasing.”

  Was Brad playing him? Was he really innocent of the drug smuggling? “What do you think is going on?”

  “It’s got to be some kind of smuggling. Maybe drugs. I don’t know. I’ve looked at Rachel’s accounting, and everything seems on the up and up, but have you ever had a gut feeling something is wrong and it is?”

  “Yes. I’ve learned to trust my gut. Who do you think is working with Ivan? If he’s smuggling something in, he has to have coconspirators. Where is he getting the drugs from, if it is drugs?”

  “That’s why I’m talking to you. I don’t know. There are parts of this fishery I don’t have access to. I’m the owner. I’ve always gone freely anywhere around my company. Now doors are locked in buildings and to buildings.”

  “What doors in which buildings?”

  “I went into shipping this morning to talk to Ivan, and then I walked around. One freezer was locked and a small storage room.”

  “What did Ivan say about that?” Jake asked, studying Brad for any signs of lying.

  “Nothing. I couldn’t find him.”

  Still not sure if he could trust Brad, Jake asked, “What do you want me to do?”

  “You’re a police officer.”

  “Not here in town.”

  “Okay, I don’t know if I can trust ours. Ivan and Officer Steve Bates are good friends. I’ve seen them hanging out together at night.”

  Jake thought back to Friday night and recalled seeing Bates come into the Harbor Bar and Grill and sit at the bar. Ivan sat next to him for part of the night before the officer left. They talked occasionally during that time but also to others. That fit with what Betty said to Rachel about not trusting anyone.

  “What do you want to do?” Jake wasn’t going to say anything about a state police officer staying at the bed-and-breakfast until he felt Brad wasn’t playing him.

  “Contact some people you trust. I’ll give them permission to search the whole fishery. If there isn’t a problem, then I’ve overreacted, but I’ll be relieved that the company is doing only legal business.”

  “Let’s go, then.” Jake started for the exit.

  The sound of a shot cracked the air.

  *

  Rachel gulped and backed up against the table. As she gripped its edge, strength flowed from her legs, but somehow she managed to keep herself upright as Beau came toward her and Captain Martin shut the door.

  She fought the fear attacking every part of her. Beau was muscular and huge. Is he the one who hit Aunt Betty so hard she died? Trembling followed the fear and encompassed her whole body.

  Beau gripped her upper arms and jerked her toward the bunk nearby. After he shoved her down, he took out a rope and yanked her hands together, then bound them in front of her. When he produced a second length of rough twine, he knelt, removed her boots and tied her ankles together so tight she didn’t think blood would circulate to her feet.

  “Too bad you had to be so nosy. Now we have a mess to clean up,” Captain Martin said, still standing by the exit.

  “I came in to get the payroll papers,” she said in a quavering voice. “As Mrs. Cohen told me.”

  “Don’t take us for fools.” Beau stepped back from the bunk.

  “Just ask her.”

  “I know she did because I told her to. It’s all the other snooping you’ve been doing.” Captain Martin glared at her.

  “What are you going to do with me?”

  “Why, kill you, my dear. Didn’t you get the message that snoops end up dead like Betty?” The captain shook his head and put his hand on the door handle. “You don’t cross the Russian mafia.”

  As Captain Martin left, Rachel peered at Beau. “I don’t know anything.”

  “We know a state trooper flew in this morning. That ain’t a coincidence.”

  “I don’t know a state trooper.”

  Beau backed away from the bunk, his cackles sending goose bumps down her body. “You might not but your boyfriend does. Don’t worry, he’ll get his due soon enough.”

  “You don’t need to kill me. Use me as a hostage.”

  His hideous laughter filled the cabin. “We don’t need you. When the rest of the crew is here, we’re putting out to sea. When we’re far enough out, I’m going to kill you, then dump your body over. The current will take you where no one will find you. Frankly, after the fish take care of you, you won’t be recognizable. You know it might be fun just to toss you into the water alive and let nature take its course.”

  As Beau turned toward the door, Rachel sent a prayer to God. I need Your help. Anything is possible through You. There was still time that Jake could save her.

  “Oh, just in case you think your boyfriend is going to come to your rescue, he won’t. He’s being taken care of as well as the state trooper. Then people in Port Aurora will learn who really runs the town.” Beau slammed the door as he left, the lock clicking into place.

  Leaving Rachel alone.

  Devastated.

  Hopeless.

  *

  A bullet whizzed by Jake and struck Brad, who cried out. As he collapsed to the floor, Jake dropped down and knocked a metal table onto its side to use as a shield, rolling it to also protect Brad. The shooter was behind a concrete pillar about fifteen yards away.

  Mitch jerked on his leash, wanting to do what he had for years. Jake couldn’t risk him, even though his K-9’s heart was in it. He pointed to Brad and said to Mitch in a low voice, “Lie down. Stay.” When his dog was stretched out beside Brad, guarding him, Jake asked his friend, “Where are you hit?” as he cased out their chances of getting out alive.

  Brad moaned. “Ch—est.”

  Another shot blasted and splintered the corner of the table by Jake’s head, a fragment pierci
ng his cheek. He hoped the assailant was counting on Jake being unarmed since he was on vacation. He contemplated returning fire but wanted to see if the man would do something foolish like rush him.

  He peeked around the table and saw a man dressed in a black ski mask dart to the next pillar. Jake still didn’t shoot when the assailant came out from behind that protection and raced to the nearest concrete support, forcing Jake to roll the table to the side to shelter Brad, Mitch and him.

  Minutes ticked away with only silence from the shooter. Was he playing his own mind game? Jake sneaked a look and noticed a door behind where the assailant was. Did he escape? Would he be coming in another door to take him by surprise?

  He needed to know. Jake popped up, taunting the guy to shoot him.

  Nothing.

  Jake had to get medical help for Brad—fast. He took out his cell and called Randall. Although not totally sure how involved the police were in the drug-smuggling ring, it was a risk he had to take. He needed assistance, or Brad would bleed out. The red splotch on his coat was growing quickly.

  “Randall, this is Jake. I’m at the hall at the fishery where the party was last night. Someone shot Brad, and he’s bleeding a lot. The shooter may or may not still be here. He was behind the third support pillar from the back on the left side.”

  “Be there.”

  They needed more protection in case the assailant had escaped and was coming in another door. Jake placed the table where he could rush to the next one and lift it onto its side to be a second shield. He dragged Brad closer to the back exit with Mitch moving beside the fishery owner. As Jake upturned a third table, the shooter leaned out from the pillar and fired several rounds at them. The last bullet grazed his arm. He winced. Ignoring the pain, he focused totally on what he had to do to get them out alive.

  This time Jake shot back, and the guy ducked behind the concrete support. After positioning the third table, Jake pulled Brad even closer to the door. Adrenaline pumping, Jake was deciding if he should go for a fourth one when the door on the assailant’s side burst open, and the police chief and an officer rushed into the building. While they pinned the shooter down, Jake tugged Brad to the back exit with Mitch beside them. Brad had passed out, and Jake prayed the one ambulance in town was there.

  His arm throbbing, Jake opened the door and used his leg to hold it ajar while he hauled Brad the rest of the way out of the building. When Jake straightened, an officer ran toward him, gesturing at the ambulance speeding into the parking lot. The two paramedics jumped out, and one hurried to Brad while the other retrieved the gurney from the back.

  Once the paramedics took over, Jake said to Mitch, “Stay,” then headed toward the door, intending to help the police inside.

  The officer stopped him. “You’re hurt. You need to go with the paramedics, too.”

  Jake glanced at his arm, blood on his coat sleeve, but nothing like Brad’s. “Not until I’m sure Randall is all right. Who is with him?”

  “Officer Bates.”

  *

  When the engine started on the Sundance, Rachel knew her time was ticking down quickly. Once they were away from the harbor and out of sight of land, she would be killed and tossed into the sea. If she didn’t die from the bullet, the frigid water would kill her.

  The boat began moving. Rachel wiggled off the bunk until she could stand up. She looked out the bank of windows at the front of the trawler. She wasn’t giving up. If she could get to the window, maybe somehow she could signal for help. The only way was to hop the ten feet.

  Slowly, she jumped toward the windows, but when she was only two feet away, the trawler picked up speed close to the mouth of the harbor. The sudden jerk forward sent her to the floor, her left shoulder slamming into the wooden planks, her head bouncing up then down.

  Pain radiated from her arm. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling as the boat accelerated even more. I was too late. The thought taunted her with despair.

  No, you aren’t going to win. I’m in God’s hands. He’s with me.

  She pushed herself to a sitting position and scanned the cabin for any kind of tool to help her untie herself. Once freed she would find a weapon to use. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

  Using her knees to bear her weight, she bridged the distance to the bunk and plopped her tied hands onto it to assist her up. When she straightened to a stand, she scanned the cabin for anything to help her untie her hands. All she saw was a glass in a holder on the desk. She inched along the bunk toward it, steadying herself when the boat pitched. Her stomach roiled like the waves did. Fighting the nausea, she reached the edge of the desk and used it to move down its length.

  The Sundance veered to the right, and Rachel flung herself across the desktop to keep herself upright. Sucking in shallow breaths, she tried to calm her racing heartbeat. The glass was inches away. She rolled partway on her side and reached for it. Her fingertips grasped the lip of the drinking cup and she lifted it from its holder, barely clutched between her two hands, the coarse rope chafing her wrists.

  Her chest burned with lack of adequate oxygen. Again the trawler lurched, this time to the left. Rachel slid to the floor, the back of her head hitting the leg of the desk. She heard the glass hit the wooden floor and shatter. For a few seconds she closed her eyes, the nausea rising into her throat.

  Lord, I need You.

  Slowly, she opened her eyes to the swaying room. She found the shards of glass and plucked up the largest one to slice her ropes. Back and forth she maneuvered the jagged piece, occasionally its sharp edge slashing into her wrist. The blood flowing from the wounds made it harder to hold the slippery piece of glass, but she couldn’t stop.

  They were going to kill her if she didn’t do something. As she repeated that over and over, she kept working on cutting the ropes about her hands while listening for anyone approaching.

  Then the sound of footsteps echoed the warning one of the thugs was coming for her. Were they already far enough from land to kill her? Frantically, she sawed the last part of the twine binding her hands. It fell away, and she hurriedly went to work on the ropes around her ankles. The door handle rattled as though a key were being inserted.

  *

  His Glock in his grip, Jake eased the back door into the hall open and used the rolled tables to sneak forward. The sound of a gunshot reverberated through the cold air. Peeping around his barrier, he assessed the situation, needing to know where the police chief, Officer Bates and the man in the ski mask were. Jake glimpsed Bates coming into the room from the side door near the rear while Randall stood at the far end. In between lay a still body with a black ski mask on, probably shot by the police chief. Bates hurried to the downed perpetrator and felt his pulse.

  “Is he alive?” Randall walked toward the shooter on the floor and his officer.

  Bates took the gun on the concrete and rose. “Yes.” Then he lifted the assailant’s gun and aimed it toward the police chief. Randall halted, his eyes widening.

  Jake stood and squeezed off a shot a second before Bates did. The blast resounded through the hall as Randall dove to the left and Bates collapsed to the floor, the gun skidding across the concrete. Jake rushed him as the officer fumbled for his gun holstered at his side.

  He made it to Bates a few steps ahead of the police chief. “Don’t force me to shoot again.” Jake pointed his Glock at the officer’s head.

  The ski-masked man on the floor groaned and tried to get up. Randall pushed him down, then rolled him over and removed his black covering. Sean’s eyes glared up at the police chief, then connected with Jake’s.

  Although Jake had told Rachel he suspected everyone until proven innocent, seeing Sean lying on the floor stunned him. Jake felt like he’d been punched in the gut, all air rushing from his lungs. He clenched his jaws together so tightly that pain streaked down his neck.

  Sean looked away. “You’re gonna regret this,” Sean said through gritted teeth as he clutched the side of his s
tomach, blood leaking through his fingers.

  “I’ll call the ambulance to come back for these two and have your officer Clark come in to help you. Then I’ve got to make sure Rachel, Gramps and Chance are okay. Chance is a state police officer who can assist you in searching the shipping warehouse and processing center.” Jake kept his voice low so no one could overhear him. He was still concerned. Where was Ivan?

  Randall frowned. “Why didn’t you let me know he was coming?”

  Jake pointedly looked at Officer Bates. “I wasn’t sure who to trust.” He hurried toward the back door, hoping that Officer Clark was nearby.

  The police chief called out, “I’ve got another man coming. He was on a call outside town.”

  As Jake exited the building, the ambulance pulled away with Officer Clark coming toward him. “I need you to call the ambulance back as soon as Brad is dropped off.”

  “I heard gunshots, but Chief asked me to stay with Brad until he was safely away from here. Who’s hurt?”

  “Sean O’Hara and Bates.” Jake refused to acknowledge Bates as part of law enforcement.

  Officer Clark tensed. “Is Chief Quay all right? How bad is Bates?”

  Jake signaled Mitch to come to him. “Randall is okay, and Bates was hit in the left thigh. He’ll survive and go to jail.” The police chief needed help. Jake hoped the rest weren’t on the payroll of the drug-smuggling ring.

  “What do you mean?” A scowl grooved deep lines in Clark’s forehead.

  “He tried to kill Chief Quay. I’ll let him explain it. How is Brad?”

  “The paramedics said it was a through and through in his shoulder. He should be all right once he gets to the clinic.”

  “Good. I’ve got to find Rachel.”

  Jake took off in a jog toward the fishery headquarters, hoping she was back in her office. When he reached her office, the vacant room goaded him into searching the whole building. No one he saw knew where Rachel was. Jake, with Mitch beside him, ended his hunt at Brad’s office.