Mist

by Miller, Maureen A.

  “What I have here,” he began, “is hearsay and supposition.”

  Jack stood so quickly his chair nearly toppled behind him. “There are two ships missing. One presumably blown up. There is a shitload of glass in our lobby with I imagine are very real bullets laying around.”

  Unfazed by his outburst, the agent leveled his eyes and stated, “In one sentence you used the words presumably and imagine. Need I say more?”

  “This is absurd,” Olivia cried, tossing the blanket on the floor. “Do I look like some misguided tourist who cast herself in a kayak and drifted helplessly out to sea?”

  Cowler cocked a black eyebrow. “I don’t know you ma’am, so I can’t answer that.”

  Her hand vaulted above her head in frustration.

  “Listen,” the agent sat forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands linked together. “Something happened here. And yes, two research vessels are missing. And yes, I trust the testimony of Ray Gordon that you were indeed attacked here on the premises of PMSC. But, I have nothing more than that. Your uncle has gone missing at sea. According to your own ship’s engineers, there was bad weather−”

  “They don’t remember anything,” Jack volleyed loudly. “They both suffered from trauma to the head, obviously inflicted by someone.”

  “Or by falling down and hitting the outboard−” Agent Cowler patiently filled in.

  Jack clasped his forehead against the blood that pounded a corps of base drums.

  “This is insane,” he said. “The moment we walk out of here we’re targets again.”

  “Of what? From who?” Cowler countered mildly. “This−” he glanced at his pad, “−Hawkins was supposedly after you for something that you saw or possess. Under your own advisement and instruction on the combination we opened the footlocker located in the back of your Jeep. Yes, it’s fascinating that your uncle was able to locate wreckage from the Eclipse container ship, but it’s certainly not earth-shattering news. Someone was bound to discover it eventually. A chair and a telegraph. Maybe a local maritime museum will be interested, but not enough for abduction, attempted murder, and the detonation of a multi-million dollar research vessel.”

  Jack listened for condescension in the man’s voice−for judgement. Neither were there. This federal law enforcement agent was truly stating the facts.

  “You have nothing more, correct?” Agent Cowler scanned his notes again.

  Jack wanted to yank the spiral pad out of the man’s hands and write on it, READ BETWEEN THE LINES.

  “You said you took pictures of this−” the eyes flittered down, “−suspected weather-altering apparatus, but this Hawkins guy seized your phone. You claim the apparatus itself is secured in a freezer on the Algonquin, yet you believe the Algonquin has been destroyed at sea.” He glanced at his pad. “Blown up?” His shoulders dropped slightly. “And you say your uncle has witnessed more wreckage of the Pembrook and that his ship was attacked because of it−”

  But, your uncle is gone.

  Cowler didn’t need to voice the thought that charged through the room.

  “So you have no more in your possession than the CGIS now has. That means that you are in no greater danger than we are. Of course, we’ll be keeping the McKay residence and PMSC under surveillance for a period, but I don’t anticipate any future incidents.”

  As much as Jack desired an end to this drama there were simply too many unanswered questions to let it go at that. Apparently he wasn’t the only one.

  “So that’s it? We all part and go merrily on our way?” Olivia rose, as did her voice. “You won’t research the wreck of the Pembrook? And what about Jack’s uncle? You just pronounce him, lost at sea?”

  Jack’s stomach twisted. He knew how much that statement pained her.

  “The Coast Guard has been searching for Warren Pennington, but we’re going on five days now. You know full well how big that water is and how minimal the resources are.”

  So, he’d done his research about Olivia.

  “And yes,” he continued, “we will search for the Eclipse Pembrook. We have approximate coordinates now.”

  “So does Hawkins and his men,” Jack inserted. “You will find nothing but a carcass. They’ll have already stripped it clean.”

  Olivia nodded in agreement.

  Cowler glanced back and forth between them. “Give me something. Give me anything to go on. Believe it or not, I want answers. If this has reached our department, then someone else wants answers as well.”

  “Maybe we can give you a body later,” Olivia muttered as she walked away with her arms hugged about her.

  Jack wanted to follow, but he knew she needed a moment to herself. Instead he took his frustration out on the agent.

  “We’ve given you all the information we have. Our lives have been threatened. Mine by association to my uncle, but her—” his hand swept towards the woman pacing out in the corridor, “—Olivia was an innocent bystander.”

  Cowler sighed. “Heresay, Mr. Morell.” He appeared genuinely frustrated. “You’ve given me nothing but hearsay. How do I know it wasn’t you that punched her?”

  Jack nearly lunged, but reigned himself in. “Jesus Christ. I did not do that. What would even make you think that?” His tone was gruff with emotion.

  Holding up his hand, Cowler motioned Jack to sit. “I don’t believe you did, but in my profession, gut instinct doesn’t come across well on paperwork. I’ve got to go with the details that I’ve been presented with.”

  Cowler read from his notepad.

  “Warren Pennington and the research vessel, Algonquin, go missing at sea. Olivia McKay is assaulted in her home. The assailant runs away, taking nothing with him. A day later the McKay residence is again ransacked, but the footlocker that you claim someone is after is left behind. This footlocker contains a chair and a telegraph panel from the Eclipse Pembrook container ship.” He paused, “This we have verified.” Flipping the page, he resumed. “You claim to have received a call from someone threatening your uncle unless you divulge what you discovered inside that trunk, or elsewhere. Your phone is missing, but we will be able to trace your line and hopefully ascertain the source of the call.”

  “You’ll also find several calls from Amanda Newton at BLUE-LINK, who is as interested in the Eclipse ship as the men who hijacked the Odyssey.”

  Cowler’s face pinched. “Yes, I’ve received just as many calls from Amanda Newton. She has been investigated, and her interest appears to be legitimate.”

  “She felt we were in danger and sent that Ray guy out to help us.”

  “Yes,” Cowler rubbed his forehead. “Her intentions might have been solicitous, or selfish−that has yet to be determined, but she should have contacted the authorities and not used her private security. That will be addressed with her.”

  Jack glanced out into the hallway to make sure Olivia was in view and safe. She was still pacing with her hand immersed in her hair.

  “Amanda Newton didn’t trust the authorities. Maybe she suspected that they were involved. I told you that this Hawkins guy looked military.”

  “Not facts, Mr. Morell. Those are not facts. Let’s get back to them, shall we?” He held up his pad and squinted for a moment. “You claim that someone tried to run you off the road. Also, you had assailants here at PMSC, but instead of reporting this intrusion to the Police, you decide to take off in the Odyssey after−” He flipped the page and frowned. “What were you after?”

  Gripping the back of the chair for support, Jack felt overwhelmingly tired. “I was receiving a signal from the Algonquin−one that we could trace with the GPS. We went after that signal.”

  The agent’s lips narrowed. “Again, by yourself, without contacting anyone?”

  Dammit, the guy was right. “Yes, but when you have your own uncle telling you not to call the authorities−and you can hear the sound of gunfire behind him−” Clearing his throat, Jack continued, “and you have some unseen entity on the phone threatening that t
hey will know if we go to the authorities and they will hurt Warren−”

  “But they didn’t have your uncle−”

  “No,” Jack defended. “But, I didn’t realize that at the time. I agree that my decisions were not the wisest, but I was trying to protect my uncle, and I was trying to protect Olivia.”

  They each glanced out into the hall and Olivia stopped her pacing to stare blankly at them. The clash of pale skin and shadows made her blue eyes even more vivid. Damp hair now dried into a tousled cascade across her shoulders. Jack wanted to go to her. He wanted to take her into his arms and hold her until heat returned to the slim body that trembled with chills. She would reject him, though. Hell, she had to hate him by now. He had destroyed her life.

  “Off the record,” Cowler murmured by his side, “I would have done what I had to do to protect her as well.” He gripped a clean-shaven chin. “Look, I know Ray Gordon personally. I went through SEAL training with him, but in the end we chose different paths. I trust him. He said that whoever hijacked the Odyssey had some serious backing. He was able to grab the fake ID’s off the two shooters up in your lobby before they disappeared. It’s not much, but it’s something. There is a lot about this story that doesn’t add up−and it’s not on your end. You took on too much by yourself, but you did what you had to do.” Cowler cleared his throat. “On the record−” He stared down an aquiline nose. “Call me next time.”

  For the first time in nearly a week, Jack felt a sense of advocacy. He and Olivia weren’t on their own anymore. Actually, Amanda Newton from BLUE-LINK had been their advocate−they were just too distrustful to see it.

  Cowler’s cell phone rang. He mouthed, excuse me to Jack and then turned his back, growling, “Agent Cowler.”

  “Where?” he barked. “How long ago? Is there a visual? Alright, send another ship to the scene.” The back of Cowler’s head bobbed. “Right. Let me know.”

  Jack felt Olivia’s fingers worm around his bicep. Blue eyes stared up at him. “What is it?”

  They both waited for Cowler to turn around, sensing his conversation had something to do with them.

  He met their curious gazes with a level one. “There was an explosion about a mile and a half off the coast. People reported seeing it from Mariner’s Point. One of our cutters wasn’t too far away, already searching that area for the Odyssey. They arrived at the scene and have identified the debris as belonging to the Odyssey.”

  Jack’s head dropped forward. “Oh, I can’t wait to see what the insurance company has to say about two of our research vessels going up in flames.”

  “Any−” Olivia’s voice barely projected.

  “No,” Cowler read into her question. “No sign of anyone. Most likely a remote detonation. They got a ride home from someone else.”

  Another dead end.

  “I now see where you’re coming from,” Jack said. “No Algonquin. No Odyssey. The only survivors from either have no memory. No proof of suspicious activity aboard the Pembrook. And no Hawkins or any of his cohorts.”

  “We hope,” Olivia murmured.

  “We’ll have a team comb your coastline, Miss McKay. If Hawkins or his men are watching, they will see that. They’ll know that anything located there will become temporary property of the Coast Guard. If they want to come after someone−they can come after us.”

  Agent Cowler offered a confident smile. It looked ill-placed. “Look,” he relaxed slightly, “I’ll have some agents drive you both home so you can get a warm shower and well-deserved rest. I’ll instruct them to watch the properties for the night. We’ll meet again tomorrow to talk some more.”

  Jack could feel Olivia sag against him.

  “Alright,” Jack conceded. “I want to get Olivia home. We’d appreciate that.”

  She nodded in mute agreement.

  “Just give me a few minutes to collect some things out of my office. Olivia has a bag there as well. I also need to send out a message to the PMSC staff about tomorrow’s operations. We’ll stay closed for another day or two, but several scientists have projects that can’t be left alone for long periods.”

  “Fair enough,” Cowler agreed. “I’ll wait here and make a couple calls myself. There is an agent patrolling the hall if you need anything.”

  “Thanks,” Jack muttered as he cocked his head, inviting Olivia to join him.

  There was no encouragement necessary. She was already ahead of him.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Livvy collapsed into the guest chair before Jack’s wooden desk. It was all she could do not to cross her arms atop it and thunk down her head−no, not her head−the bucket of concrete atop her shoulders.

  Through the slim crack of her eyelids she saw Jack’s long body fold into his chair and his head tip back against the headrest. He closed his eyes and her own fatigue was momentarily forgotten. This man epitomized fatigue, but he did not stay down for long. Allowing himself that ten-second reprieve, he sat up in his chair and switched on his computer.

  Steely eyes met hers.

  “Just a few more minutes,” he stated quietly. “I promise I’ll have you home and in your bed shortly.”

  Livvy’s eyebrows climbed and her heart lumbered.

  Jack’s eyes widened and then he flashed an attractive grin. “Alright, that didn’t sound right, did it?” Before she could reply, he added. “Although it does sound damn tempting.”

  Feeling flushed, Livvy stammered for a response. It was not necessary. Jack was already punching buttons on his phone console and listening to messages. Most were innocent inquiries from employees about the schedule. One was from a British female that Livvy surmised was Amanda Newton.

  “I want to try and call this Amanda back,” Jack said. “But I want to get you out of here.”

  “Call her,” Livvy sat back in her chair and hiked a knee up, hugging it. “I’m just as curious as you to hear what she has to say.”

  Jack leaned forward in his chair. “You are one helluva woman, Olivia McKay.”

  The deep sincerity in his tone warmed her. She wanted to ask, how so, but he had already lifted his desk phone to his ear.

  Amanda Newton must have answered immediately. Livvy listened to Jack’s end of the conversation.

  “Yes, we’re safe. Thank you for sending Ray. We are indebted to you for that.” Jack paused for a few seconds. “You can understand that I had no reason to trust you. You’re just a voice on the other side of the ocean.” He nodded. “Well, according to Agent Cowler you are a reputable business owner with a valid interest in the situation. Unfortunately, all your efforts proved futile. There is no evidence left of foul play with the Eclipse container ship.”

  Jack tapped on the keyboard−an anxious cadence along the plastic rim.

  “My uncle went through great efforts to secure and hide some items he pulled up from the Eclipse ship. One was extremely suspect.”

  Livvy listened as Jack described the cumbersome skeletal umbrella that they had struggled with. And all for what? The Algonquin was gone. That apparatus was gone. The mystery would not be solved. Warren Pennington would not return. She brought her hands up over her face to block out the view. It was still emblazoned on the back of her eyelids, though. Jack’s dark, tousled hair. The fissure of concentration carved into his forehead. The shadow of a beard hugging a jaw that flexed in thought. And the dramatic clouds that darkened his eyes−gale force storms.

  She couldn’t aspire to have a future with this man. Their pasts were too similar. Their ghosts still earthbound.

  The staccato of his fingers on the keyboard broke her from her sad reverie. Those storm clouds across the desk flared. Strong hands suspended atop the keyboard and full lips murmured, son of a bitch.

  “Miss Newton. I’m going to need to call you back−”

  Livvy could still hear the woman speaking as Jack set the phone in its cradle.

  ***

  “What is it?” Olivia strained forward.

  Jack swiveled his monitor so
that she could see for herself. Blue eyes lit up from the glow and her face registered surprise.

  “Jack!” she cried.

  Her enthusiasm was like a drug to him. No matter what hardships she faced, Olivia possessed a fountain of eagerness that she could tap into on demand. This inner resource made her glow. It took a woman who just seconds ago looked ready to drop from exhaustion and brought vitality to her eyes, her cheeks, and her beaming lips. And amazingly, it spread from her. He could almost visualize the starburst of energy arcing across the desk and tapping him on the arm, saying, okay buddy, now it’s time to smile.

  And that was what he did.

  He smiled.

  “I thought they took your phone,” Olivia leaned her elbows on the desk and hiked the chair closer.

  Jack stared at a picture of the metal skeleton taken from his cell phone.

  “We must have had a period of coverage out there−enough time for my phone to sync with the cloud.”

  “Oh my God!” She swept her hands into her hair and peeled it back from her face. “What does this mean? Credibility? Something for Agent Cowler to trace and identify?”

  Swiping through several pictures, he had about three or four that were close-ups from differing angles.

  “I’m sure CGIS will analyze these, or send them out for an external inquest.” Jack winked. “Between you and me, we have the staff here do some research as well. It’s not too far outside our field.”

  Olivia clapped her hands and tipped her head back. “Thank you!” she cried up to the ceiling.

  Jack rubbed a hand over his stinging eyes. Thank you, he echoed in his mind.

  Finally, a break. Validation that he and Olivia were not losing their minds. Granted, it probably just opened up another can of unanswered questions. Who was to say the device didn’t belong to Warren Pennington? After all, it was on his ship. Only Warren could tell the whole tale…but he was gone.

  Peering across Olivia’s shoulder he saw the photograph of his uncle smiling, with a proud arm slung across Jack’s shoulders.

  Moisture gripped the backs of Jack’s eyes. He closed them again and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he finally opened them he was met with a wide, sympathetic gaze. Consolation he so desperately craved. God, he wanted to reach for her−to immerse his face in her hair and hold her so tight.