“Cate, Rex Conan just called in a fire and a shooting on Ruby’s Island.”
Alarm shot through her. “A shooting? What happened?”
Henry stepped closer. “Shooting?” he asked.
“His nephew, Dustin, was shot while investigating the fire. Rex said he sent him to the south end of the island because he’d spotted smoke. He figured it was teenagers building a fire on the beach, but Dustin called him saying he’d been shot and that the lighthouse was on fire.”
Leaving Henry, Cate ran across the road from the clinic and stopped at the fence to get a view of Ruby’s Island across the bay. Sure enough, a faint stream of smoke rose from the far end. She clutched her phone to her ear. “I can see the smoke. Is Dustin okay? Who shot him?”
Henry appeared beside her and stared out at the smoke. “Who’s been shot?”
“Dustin Conan,” she whispered. “On the island.”
Tessa continued. “Rex says it winged his upper arm, and all Dustin knows is that a man shot him.” Tessa paused. “Cate . . . Dustin told Rex the man had a bin of bones.”
Shock stole Cate’s breath. “Did you tell Rex the bones had been stolen?”
“No. It didn’t seem like the right time.” Tessa sounded grim. “Why do you think this man brought the bones back to the island?”
“I have no idea.” Cate’s mind raced. Why?
“Bruce and I were in Bishopton when the call came, and now we’re headed to the marina to take out the sheriff’s boat. I called the fire department, and they’re pulling together a crew to take the fireboat to the island.”
Cate’s heart sped up. Too much time. Tessa is over a half hour away. The fire department was made up of volunteers. It’d take even more time to get to the fire.
“I’m closer,” Cate said. “I’ll drive to Harlot Harbor and get the water taxi—wait!” Cate ducked under a fence rail and darted down the steep bank, stepping carefully on the big, rough rocks until she reached the tiny, dirty beach and could see south to the pier. Adam is still here.
“The water taxi is tied up at the North Sound pier. I can be on the island in fifteen minutes.”
“Be careful, Cate.” Tessa ended the call, and Cate scrambled back up the bank to the road.
“Is Dustin okay?” Henry asked as he met her, the garbage bag still in his hand.
“I think so. Someone set the lighthouse on fire and took the shot at Dustin.” She took a deep breath. “Dustin says the man has a bin of bones.”
Henry’s mouth fell open. “Holy crap. What’s he doing with them? And how do you put out a fire on an island?”
Cate only knew the answer to one of his questions. “The fireboat’s water cannons can reach the lighthouse. I need to get to Adam’s water taxi before he leaves the pier.”
“I’m coming with you. Let me grab a medical kit.” Henry ran across the street and through the front door of his clinic. He came out five seconds later without the garbage bag and carrying a case that looked like a large fishing tackle box. “Let’s go.”
They caught Adam on the pier as he untied his boat.
“We need to get to Ruby’s Island now!” Cate ordered as she stepped down into his boat.
“I’ve got a pickup in Harlot’s,” Adam told her from the dock with a glare. “You’ll have to wait.”
“We’ve got a fire and gunshots on Ruby’s,” Cate informed him. “Get moving.”
To her relief, Adam threw the ropes on the boat and followed Henry down the steps.
“On it,” Adam replied. He put the boat in reverse and gunned the engine.
She almost forgave him for his lecherous stares from her first ride.
Fifteen minutes later, they were at the small boat dock on Ruby’s Island. The lighthouse fire was raging out of control, a tall tower of flames.
“There’s no saving it,” Cate whispered to Henry, her throat growing thick at the sight. A piece of my past.
“I don’t recognize that boat,” Adam said, pointing with his chin at a tied-up boat as he pulled up to the dock. He hopped out and stayed low, tying up his own boat. The fire whooshed and crackled, filling the quiet island with its noise of destruction. Ash blew around the dock like snowflakes. Cate covered the area, searching for a gunman. Her weapon stopped on a man who staggered out of the woods, waving one arm at them. Dustin.
His other arm was tucked inside his coat, and he struggled to keep his footing as he came down the steep bank to the dock. His kit in hand, Henry leaped out of the boat to meet Dustin, and Cate followed, keeping one eye on their surroundings.
Dustin collapsed on the dock, catching himself with his good arm. “I’ve been shot!” he gasped, his eyes wide and his cheeks tearstained. Now that he was closer, Cate saw dark blood had stained one arm of his navy coat. He was lightly coated with ash.
Henry knelt beside him, laying him down on his back. “We know.”
The young man closed his eyes. “Fucking hurts!”
Henry eased Dustin’s good arm out of his sleeve.
“Dustin,” Cate asked. “Who shot you?”
“A guy,” he panted. “Don’t know him. He was digging in the same place where you found those bones. He had a bin of bones with him, and I think he was going to bury them too.” He shrieked as Henry moved his other arm.
“Dustin, I’m sorry to make you talk,” said Cate, “but we need to know what’s happening. Did he say anything to you?” Loud snapping sounds from the burning lighthouse made Cate and Henry duck. Looking back, Cate saw a large piece of flaming debris fall to the ground. We’re far enough away to be safe.
“When I spotted him, I asked him how the lighthouse caught on fire. Startled him. He was already digging.” He moaned as Henry did something to his upper arm.
“And?”
“He pointed a gun at me and said he set the fire. I put my hands up and was backing away when he shot. It hit my arm, and I ran into the woods. Hey! Watch it!” he yelled at Henry. “Fuuuuuuck!” His body arched in pain.
Henry didn’t flinch and continued to rinse Dustin’s wound.
“I’m going to find him,” Cate told the two of them.
“That guy is nuts,” Dustin said, shooting angry looks at his doctor.
“What do you mean?” asked Cate as she started to leave.
“He said he had to burn the ghost in the lighthouse.”
Cate and Henry stared at each other. “The ghost?” Henry asked.
“Yeah. I assumed he meant Ruby. Everyone says she lives there. He’s an idiot. You can’t kill a ghost,” Dustin muttered and then clenched his teeth together.
“Noted. I’ll be back.” She checked her weapon again and brushed ash from her eyelashes.
“Cate! Shouldn’t you wait for backup?” Henry sat on his heels, his eyes locked on her.
“No. We’ve got an active shooter. Procedure is to go after him.”
A long moment stretched between them. Henry pressed his lips into a thin line, and he gave a short nod. Cate turned and dashed up the hill.
Cate bent low under the trees, leading with her weapon, keeping her ears open. She’d kept far to the right from where the bones had been found, hoping to loop around and come in from the north, where she remembered there were boulders she could use for cover.
As she moved away from the fire, its roar quieted, and she listened for sounds of digging.
I hear him.
She reached the boulders and carefully looked around one.
Twenty feet away, a tall man with his back to her thrust his shovel in the loose dirt. The bin with the young girl’s bones was beside him. Cate looked for his weapon. She didn’t see it. She took a breath, ready to identify herself, when she realized he was crying. Blubbering crying. Heaves-and-snot-and-choking-breaths crying. He was muttering something between the shovelfuls of dirt, and she strained to hear it.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“FBI!” she shouted. “Put down your weapon, and get on your knees.”
<
br /> The man jerked and spun in her direction, his shovel in his hands.
Milton. The stuffy waiter.
Cate stared. Why . . .
She didn’t have time to figure it out. A man had been shot. “Where’s your weapon, Milton?” she shouted. “Throw it aside!”
“I didn’t mean to do it!” he shrieked, his face wet with tears. He ran the back of his hand under his nose. “It wasn’t my fault!”
“Throw aside your gun. Then you can tell me what happened.” Where is his gun?
He clutched the shovel. “You don’t understand. It was an accident!”
“What was an accident?” At least his hands are occupied with the shovel.
“The girl. I didn’t mean to hurt her. It was to be just for a few days.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Milton, and I’m still waiting for you to get rid of your gun!”
“I was going to bring her back. She was fine!”
“Who?”
“The girl. Becca.”
Cate’s heart sank. “Becca Conan? Did you . . . hurt Becca?”
“It was an accident!”
Metal pressed into the back of Cate’s head. “Lower your weapon,” said a female voice.
Ice ripped through Cate’s limbs, and she fought to breathe.
I screwed up. I didn’t check for another person.
“Weapon. Now!” the woman ordered.
Her heart pounding, Cate lowered her weapon and slowly turned her head, trying to see behind her out of the corner of her eye.
Naomi.
Did she kill Becca with Milton?
“Drop the gun.”
Cate let the weapon fall to one side. Backup is coming. But when?
She was on her own.
At Naomi’s urging, she stepped out from behind the rocks and moved toward the hole. Milton had stopped to watch. Tears continued to track down his cheeks.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen, Naomi,” he pleaded.
“Then you shouldn’t have set the lighthouse on fire for everyone to see!”
“I had no choice!” He raised the shovel as if to fling it at Cate and Naomi. “She wouldn’t shut up!”
“No one was talking to you!” Naomi snapped at him.
“I could hear her!”
“Who was talking to you?” asked Cate, remembering Dustin’s comment about burning out the ghost.
“Shut up,” muttered Naomi behind her. “Don’t encourage him.”
“She told me I’d pay for what I did to Becca,” he choked out. “I’m trying to make it right.” He gestured at the hole.
He killed Becca.
Why?
“You buried Becca here?” Cate asked. She got a rap on the back of her head with the gun for the question.
“She wasn’t supposed to die,” he wailed. “But she tried to escape, and I tackled her and she fought me and I pinned her—”
“Milton. Shut. Up.” Naomi was livid.
“You knew all along what had happened to Becca,” Cate said to Naomi. Hurry up, Tessa. “You helped him cover it up.”
“Wrong,” Naomi sneered.
“Naomi had nothing to do with this,” Milton said earnestly. “She didn’t know anything about Becca until her bones were found.”
“Why are you reburying the bones, Milton?” Cate asked softly. He wasn’t in his right mind. The formal waiter had been replaced with a crazy-eyed man with a shovel on the verge of a breakdown.
“I tried to take care of her, and I brought her back to her home because I messed up. But you guys dug her up and put her in a bin!” He placed a gentle hand on the bin. “She belongs in the ground on her island.”
He’s cracked.
“You haven’t done anything wrong yet, Naomi,” Cate said to the woman behind her. “You didn’t kill Becca. Let me go so we can get Milton some help.”
“Shut up.” Naomi ground the muzzle into Cate’s hair. “You don’t know what he needs.”
“Tell me.”
“He’s a good man,” Naomi said. “He took Becca so her father would ransom her and he could save his dream. Two years ago he needed money to save The Little Garden restaurant before it failed. He was the owner; it was his heart and soul. He had to sell it, and now he’s just a waiter.” Her voice broke.
A ransom? Milton needed money?
“I’m sure a prosecutor will take his desperate situation into consideration.” Not in your dreams. “But how did she die?”
Naomi lowered her voice. “I think he choked her. He said she tried to run away and stopped breathing when he had his hands on her throat.” Her voice faltered. “He brought her back home after that. He really means well.” She sniffed.
How can she pity him?
“I can get him some help,” Cate told her. “He needs to be examined by a psy—”
“No! He’s fine! He just needs to get past this! If the bones hadn’t been found, today would be like any other day!” She shoved Cate in the back, making her trip and fall on her hands and knees. “I won’t let you take him!”
Cate heard a click behind her as Naomi released the safety on her weapon.
This isn’t happening.
She was still on her knees, her mind racing for a way out.
Turn and attack. I’ve got nothing to lose.
She sucked in a breath and prepared to lunge.
A gunshot roared, and Cate flung to her stomach, her hands protecting her head. She lay in the dirt, frozen as she waited for the pain.
“Noooooo! Naomi!” Milton cried out, agony in his voice. Cate lifted her head. Milton ran directly at her, his shovel raised over his head. His face contorted. His mouth was open in a scream. Cate pulled up into a crouch, prepared to tackle the crazy man.
He jerked, spinning to his left as a second gunshot filled the air, and he fell to the ground.
Cate whirled around, expecting to see Tessa.
Rex Conan stood by the rocks, his rifle still aimed at Milton. His face sagged, and the weapon shook in his hands. Naomi was on the ground, moaning softly as she bled from a hole in her gut. Milton writhed and wailed, clamping his hands to his collarbone. Cate kicked Naomi’s gun aside and pulled off her jacket, then made a pad to press against the woman’s stomach. With one hand applying pressure to Naomi’s wound, Cate quickly checked her for more weapons. She looked up at Rex. “Come hold this,” she ordered. He leaned his rifle against a boulder and knelt by Cate, his trembling hands taking over the pressure.
“You heard what Milton said?” Cate asked.
“I did.” His face was wet with tears. “Becca’s disappearance tore a permanent hole in my heart. Nothing can fix it. Not even shooting her killer will fix it.”
“Thank you for firing,” Cate told him. “Naomi would have put a bullet in my head.”
Rex stared at the woman moaning under his hands. “For thirty years I’ve written about shooting the bad guys. I don’t ever want to experience it in real life again.” He swallowed hard and pressed on the padding. “Hang on,” he told Naomi.
Cate turned to go help Milton and found his gun next to the bin.
“Cate?” Tessa shouted from the edge of the woods. She and Bruce had their weapons trained on Cate’s group.
“All clear,” Cate yelled. “We need Henry!”
She reached Milton and knelt next to him, fumbling to stop his bleeding while frisking him for more weapons. She found two folding knives in his pockets and threw them to the side.
He turned his head and looked past her. His eyes widened, and his mouth opened. “I tried,” he whispered hoarsely. “I tried. Leave me alone.”
What? Cate frowned and looked behind her, catching a glimpse of an evaporating white wisp.
An icy pocket of air settled on her, and an electric tickle went up her spine.
Ruby.
12
Henry opened the door to exam room two and was stunned to see Cate sitting on the table.
It’d been five days since the
events on Ruby’s Island. Cate had vanished the next day, taking the box of bones to the FBI lab and reporting to her supervisors about the events that had unfolded on the island. Henry had run into Jane at the market, and she had informed him Cate would return but didn’t know when. Henry had wanted to call her . . . text her . . . do something, but he didn’t have her number and couldn’t bring himself to ask Jane.
So he had waited.
“You’re back,” Henry said as he stepped inside the exam room. Cate had dark circles under her eyes and looked like she hadn’t slept in days. He couldn’t look away. She was still beautiful.
“Just this morning.”
They both stood in silence, the air humming with unasked questions.
“Are you ill?” he finally asked.
She gave a soft snort, and her lips stretched into a smile. “No. Unless you count insomnia.”
“That counts.” He held her gaze. “I’ve had my own sleepless nights. You know . . . when I found you holding pressure on Milton’s chest, you had been splashed with blood. I thought you’d been hit.” The sight had made his heart stop. “I’ve had a hard time getting that image out of my mind.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.” He set his clinic laptop on the counter and hopped up on the table next to her, needing to get some of that horrible day off his chest. His leg was two inches away from hers, and her body heat touched him. “I’d heard the shots as I worked on Dustin. I’d expected the worst.” He tapped a heel against the table. “I’ll never complain again about how quiet this clinic is. Three GSWs in one night was like being back in an LA emergency room.” He turned his head to her, but she was looking at her lap. “How is your gunshot injury?”
“Not bad.” She touched the front of her shoulder as she met his gaze. “My strength isn’t back yet.”
“It’s way too early for that. Can I see it?”
Her chin came up, and defense rose in her eyes.
“You don’t have to.” I overstepped.
For a long moment she searched his eyes, and he sensed her indecision. Looking away, she inhaled and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt, then slid the fabric off her shoulder. The wound was dark pink and puckered, but he knew it’d fade over time. If it’d been three or four inches lower, she could have died. He gently pressed the unharmed tissue around it. She slightly flinched and brought her gaze back to his.
Close to the Bone (Widow's Island Novella Book 1) Page 8