Solomon's Compass

by Carol Kilgore

  She released his hand and sat up straight. “That’s how you pulled it off. You’re authentic.”

  “When I left the Navy, I went to work for Dad. I guess I trained for the family business.”

  She stood and walked around. This man totally charmed her, and she couldn’t let him. “Why are you here? Why isn’t your dad?”

  “Dad put the pieces together and warned Randy, but he didn’t tell anyone at CPI about the danger he was in. He didn’t confide in me, either.” Jake ran his hands over his head. “I didn’t know about the incident in Bangkok or the truth about the remainder of his service until six months ago. The only reason he told me was because he was diagnosed with prostate cancer and has been undergoing treatment. He wouldn’t take the chance you would come here when he couldn’t protect you.”

  She stopped pacing. “How is he?”

  “Right now he’s in the hospital—he’s been running a fever. Overall, we’re hopeful. The last reports were good.”

  “I’m glad. For all of you.” Taylor paced again. It was the only way to keep her thoughts away from Jake.

  “Dad rehearsed me for hours on end. ‘Treat it like a mission.’ He repeated those words a million times. And wasn’t convinced until I could perform every part perfectly in his eyes.” Jake’s looked away for a moment. “Like I said yesterday, your uncle asked Dad to watch over you, and that’s become my mission. Dad takes his promises seriously. So do I. We’d like to identify the killer, but this is all about keeping you safe. Dad would run my ass up and down the beach for a few hours if he even thought I’d spilled his backstory. Or revealed my true identity.”

  Taylor touched Jake’s hair. “You share a strong resemblance. I recognized you right away from the old photo in the ammo can.”

  Jake shrugged. “That’s why Dad thought I could pull off the impersonation. That and my SEAL training. He believed I would be in more danger as myself.”

  “I agree. You’d be a free target for the killer. Like I am. Only the killer would save you for later.” Taylor felt safe enough to sit and returned to her chair. How bizarre that she felt safe—she just acknowledged that she was in the killer’s crosshairs.

  “Or the killer would use me as a pawn against Dad. Against you, too. Dad also feared you wouldn’t believe me as myself, but you would believe him.”

  How could someone she’d never met understand her so well? “He’s right.”

  She wanted to tell Jake so much. She would try to be freer. Have a life outside the Coast Guard. Take a vacation. But the words wouldn’t come. Her head hurt. “Jake . . . the past few days . . . I’ve learned so much. I want to say—”

  Jake smiled. “You just have to learn to live, Taylor. That old up-close-and-personal thing. Your passion needs an outlet. Life’s short.”

  “I’ll try. But next week I’ll be back at sea.”

  He moved behind her and kneaded her shoulders. “It will come. We were talking about how much Dad and I look alike. Mom said when they got married, his hair was black. When he came home, it was the same color mine is now. The same change happened to me. Late twenties, over a period of a few months. I’m taller than Dad—not much. He’s a little leaner. His face is more lined and leathery now. Craggier. Our eyes are the same. We sound alike, but both his voice and word choice are usually rougher.”

  His voice soothed her. His magic touch was melting the knots.

  “I think I’d like your parents.” Her chin rested on her chest muffling her words. Jake’s hands kept moving, prodding, digging into her muscles. She could sit here until morning as long as he never stopped.

  “They’d like you. God, Taylor, do you ever relax?”

  “I am relaxed.”

  “No you’re not.”

  His hands moved from her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. He tilted her chin so she was forced to look at him. Her breath hitched at the mix of tenderness and pain in those amazing green eyes.

  “I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark. I booted myself in the butt all day for placing the cameras. No, that’s not correct. I still would have placed the cameras to avert a possible disaster. I need to put up new ones. And you need to know I secured a tracking device to your car so I know your whereabouts. It will stay in place.”

  “That’s how you followed me so easily.”

  He shrugged. “I haven’t forgiven myself for not having enough control to keep my hands off you when I knew the cameras were in place. I couldn’t help myself. You have that much power over me, Taylor. Can you forgive me for being such an ass?”

  She had power over him? His expression had turned despondent. Probably because his dad would run him up and down the beach. I have power over him!

  She stood on tiptoe and kissed his chin. “I couldn’t restrain myself either. It takes two. I forgive you, if you forgive me.”

  Jake kissed her.

  Nothing had changed between them, despite all the changes. The fire in Taylor’s belly burned twice as hot. He wore a tee, and she lifted it up and over his head. His lips left hers only for the half-second it took for the shirt to go over his head. The rest of their clothes flew off in record time. She wasn’t certain who removed what or when they moved to the bed. Somewhere along the way, Jake had put on a condom.

  She wanted him, plain and simple. She kissed her way down his body, to his feet, and back up again, heady at his musky scent. Her fingers smoothed the strip of dark hair that ran up to his belly button, enjoying its silkiness. His chest, back, arms, and legs were hard muscle, but his belly was softer and moved with her touch. She liked his reaction and continued to smooth his tummy with her hands.

  His fingers tightened in her hair, and he ground out a moan. She moved up, stopping at his chest to feel his heartbeat throbbing beneath her touch. She continued upward and tasted the skin at the hollow of his neck, salty from the sea air, the skin rough.

  “You taste like a sailor.”

  Jake’s soft laughter rumbled in his throat.

  The hoppy taste of beer joined the salt when she moved her lips to his mouth. His tongue played with hers while his hands explored her body, seemingly every place at once, freeing any inhibitions she might have held.

  Taylor soared. At the moment her entire world existed only here, with Jake. He rolled her over, kissing her face, her neck, her lips. She raised her hips, and he lowered himself into her. They moved slowly together for a long time, his breathing the melody to the drumbeat of her heart. Her legs tightened around him, and their tempo increased.

  She couldn’t hold on another beat.

  “Let go, Taylor.”

  She nodded, afraid if she spoke, she would scream.

  They connected on so many levels Taylor could hardly believe she hadn’t known Jake forever. His warmth filled her, and combined with hers, left her sated. She couldn’t move a muscle. He moved enough to the side to not lie directly on top of her.

  Taylor studied his face, the way his eyelashes lay against his cheek. His breathing relaxed and became heavy. Her own sleep would come with the next breath or two. She kept watch over him, smiling, as her eyes closed and she drifted in limbo between consciousness and dreams.

  Her eyes popped open. The answer had come in a flash. She knew how to draw out Randy’s killer and expose him for the son of a bitch he really was.

  The note lay on Jake’s pillow. Taylor picked it up and rolled to her back.

  Taylor -

  You’re always beautiful, but especially when you sleep. I couldn’t disturb you. This morning I’m meeting with someone who should provide a lead about who fired on you and Will yesterday. I want to arrive early enough to scout the area and be in place long before he arrives. I’ll be in touch. Stay safe.

  Jake

  She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed when he got out of bed, or heard the door when he left. Her fingers traced the words he’d written. His handwriting, the same as the list he’d made of the ammo can contents, consisted of strong, bold, no-nonsense strokes. C
losed a’s and o’s. He could keep a secret. As if she needed his handwriting to tell her that.

  A smile spread over her face, and she rolled over to laze where he had slept. The bed was warm. The click of the door as he closed it might have been what wakened her. She glanced at the clock—four-thirty. Snuggling down under the covers and holding Jake’s note, she closed her eyes.

  “Oh, crap!” She’d almost forgotten her plan. It required an early start, too. And she needed coffee.

  An hour later, she opened the door to Randy’s salvage shop. After turning on the lights, she returned to the car for her coffee and the ammo can. If this didn’t work, she was pulling up anchor and leaving the solving of Randy’s homicide to Detective Upchurch—if he reopened the case—or to Jake and his dad. She and Dan had a day or two remaining to work, and that would leave her a day or two to enjoy Rock Harbor, find out all the area had to offer. A day or two to enjoy Jake.

  After a few sips of coffee, she shoved the watch Randy made up past her elbow and rearranged items on the short countertop just inside the door to give her about a foot of clear space. She opened the ammo can and took out what remained of Randy’s belt, the shirt, and the old peanut container. She took the buckles out of the container and put them back in the ammo can. The killer had kept the buckles as souvenirs. Those were what he wanted, but he would recognize the peanut container, too, especially if it held significance for him.

  Taylor couldn’t figure out why the killer had sent the buckles and later the shirt to Randy before killing him. Perhaps he grew tired of Randy’s presumed inability to focus. She believed the buckles were meant to tell Randy that one person had killed the other Compass Points and was coming for him next. And the shirt was a do-I-have-to-show-you-everything move.

  The reality could be entirely different.

  She guessed the killer planned to retrieve his souvenirs and Randy’s belt and buckle after he was dead. But Uncle Randy had the last laugh. Good for him.

  Randy’s buckle was the only one the killer hadn’t possessed. He would really want it now, after a year’s time had passed. She removed the buckle from what remained of his belt and closed it inside the peanut container. The belt went back in the ammo can.

  The peanut container, but no buckles inside except for Randy’s. No stone in the buckle. No belt. That should fry the killer’s balls.

  Next she unrolled the shirt and shook it. With any luck, she’d find out this morning if the shirt provided a significant clue. If it did, she could abandon her plan and tell Glen what she learned. If not, the shirt would be simply another item on display.

  She closed the ammo can and took it back to the trunk of the car. The sun had come up, but the light was still gray. Back inside, she decided to prop Randy’s buckle on top of the peanut container—the killer wouldn’t miss that. She set the container in the center of the countertop.

  Making an artful display wasn’t in her job description. She messed with the shirt—folding, unfolding. Draping it across the counter. Nothing looked right. She glanced at the time on her phone. Dan would arrive in a few minutes. She needed to finish.

  Standing back, she eyed the countertop from the door then picked up the shirt, folded it so only the top half of the back with the tournament logo showed, and laid it on the countertop at an angle, one sleeve hanging off. She set the peanut can and buckle on top and near the back before rearranging the items she’d pushed to the side. The layout would do. To anyone but the killer, it would be another shelf of junk. But the killer should react in some way.

  Tires crunched on the driveway. She grabbed her coffee and plopped down on an old camp stool. Dan was her first test subject.

  A minute later the door opened. “You’ll never believe my morning so far.”

  Ha. He’d never believe hers either. “Try me.”

  He closed the door. A white paper bag dangled from the hand holding his coffee. “Take this first. I brought bagels.”

  “What about your cholesterol?”

  “I’ll worry about that tomorrow. Our electric went out at home. A.J. said it’s something to do with the breaker panel. I’m so glad I listened to him about having a gas water heater. Even though it’s summer, I don’t enjoy cold showers.” He shivered.

  She pulled out a bagel and handed the bag back. “Thanks.”

  “If that wasn’t enough, cats held an orgy outside our bedroom in the wee hours. A.J. can sleep through anything. Not me. Wake me up if you discover me crashed over a pile of unforgettables.”

  She laughed. “Nothing in here is unforgettable.”

  He pulled out the remaining bagel and crushed the bag into a ball. “I was in no mood for oatmeal. Oooh, what’s that on your arm!”

  She held it out. “I worked in here on Saturday and found this. I know it’s junk, but I fell in love with it.”

  He moved closer. “I’m not an expert on gems, but I think this is lapis lazuli. Have it appraised when you get back to Charleston. The watch will need repair. Looks like a makeshift band.”

  “The whole watch looks like something a teenager would make. It’s a little off the wall, but I love it.”

  He popped the last bite of his bagel and walked past her without one comment on the countertop. Her handiwork passed the Dan test. It was good to go.

  “No sleep makes me hungry. Wow! You really did work back here.”

  “All I did was clear trash from a couple of rows of tables.”

  “I’m serious, Taylor. If you’ll continue with clearing trash, I think we can finish today. If not today, with only a few hours tomorrow.”

  Taylor pulled a box of rusty, ragged lures from under a table and called Dan over.

  “These are mine. Decorators pay top dollar for these. Mark my words. They’ll all be gone in thirty days, and I’ll get a minimum of ten dollars each for the worst ones. Much more for the others.”

  The door opened and A.J. walked in. “I brought coffee.”

  Dan rushed to the front. “You’re wonderful. Thank you.”

  A.J. beamed. “I know how cranky you are when you don’t get enough sleep. I felt sorry for Taylor.” He held hers out.

  “Thanks.”

  “Besides, I’m tired from looking like an artist all weekend. I’m going fishing.”

  “Catch dinner. Or stop by the fish market if nothing’s biting.”

  “It’s early enough, maybe I can round up a redfish out of Laguna del Sol. If I head out in the boat, I’ll call and let you know where I’m going and when I’ll be back.”

  “I’ll walk you out.”

  Neither of them paid attention to her or her catch-the-killer display. Now that she knew the display didn’t draw unwarranted attention, Taylor planned to tell the few people she knew here that they could come out and have anything they wanted for free—provided Dan didn’t want their choices. Word would get around town. If the killer was here, he would find an excuse to show up and look for the items he coveted.

  She would call Glen and Zia, but she could walk across the street right now while she drank her coffee and tell Will and Trinh. The last person she would tell would be Lulu, because she wouldn’t get over there until lunch or after Dan left.

  She touched Dan’s shoulder as she passed. “I’m going to talk to Trinh and Will. If anyone wants items from in here, I’d like them to have them at no cost. People have been good to me, and I want to return the favor. You already have yours. A.J., you can look now or come back when you have time and look around.”

  A smile spread over A.J.’s face. “I did spot a couple of items. Thanks.”

  Trinh looked up from the floor. Her lap brimmed with pre-packaged aluminum cleats.

  “Inventory time?”

  Trinh’s eyes rolled and she shook her head. “I only wish. Customer with a kid. I hate kids. They’re always in here making a mess. Four, maybe five years old. Dumped out everything on this end cap. I had to smile and tell daddy how cute he was.” She made a gagging face. “Now I have to sort and p
ut them back in the right bins. Did I say I hate kids?”

  Taylor chuckled. “Yeah, you did. I came over to tell you Dan and I are close to finishing across the street.”

  “So soon? I shouldn’t be surprised. Dan Blair is a never-ending speed demon when he gets wound up. How long are you staying here? Will told me about your adventures yesterday.”

  “I’m going back Thursday, so just a few more days. Anyway, I’d like you to come over and scout around. We moved everything from the house to the shop or the trash bin. Dan is taking a few items, but the rest will be sold as one lot. So come over and see if there’s anything you want. It’s yours. No charge.”

  Trinh continued to put cleats in piles as she talked. “Thanks. My cousin is an artist and makes all kinds of things from junk. I’ll find out what she needs.”

  “Bring her. Free for her, too, unless she needs a truck to haul it off. Then I’ll give her a good deal.”

  “Got it. How about Will?”

  “I was going to tell him, too, if he’s here.”

  Trinh emptied her lap and bounced up. “He went into Corpus. You want me to tell him?”

  “Please. Tell him there’s a lot of junk but a lot of marine items, too. Those we can talk about.”

  Leaving Taylor’s bed tore Jake in two. The note he left told her bare minimum, but enough. He hoped.

  After stopping for coffee and Krispy Kreme at a convenience store, he drove past Cecil’s at ten past five and continued on to the bend in the road. He turned around, drove a short distance, and pulled as far as he could onto the meager shoulder, mosquitoes swarming in his high beams. He cut his lights, put the car in park, and got his sugar and caffeine fix while the eastern sky lightened from charcoal to gray.

  No headlights had appeared from either direction. The punk who bashed Will’s truck told him he would find Bill Abbott here around nine any morning of the week. His gut told him the thug wasn’t above informing Abbott someone was looking for him. He’d been itching to try the thermal imaging binoculars, and the timing, going from night to day, was perfect.