Heron's Cove

by Carla Neggers

  He didn’t see their owner.

  He rapped on the metal door casing. “Tatiana, it’s Special Agent Colin Donovan. May I come in?”

  She emerged from the bathroom and walked unsteadily to the door. She seemed to have trouble focusing on him. “Yes, please come in, Agent Donovan. I’m sorry. I’m a bit under the weather.”

  As he stepped inside, Tatiana backed into the middle of the room. She had on her pumpkin-colored jacket, both arms holding her abdomen as if she were in pain. Her skin was pale, almost waxen. She looked tiny, vulnerable.

  Colin frowned at her. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I have terrible cramps. Nausea. It’s my own fault. I fear that I’ve turned Dmitri Rusakov into a monster in my mind.”

  “You went to see him?”

  She nodded, sank onto the love seat next to the stack of sketches and her tapestry bag.

  “When?” Colin asked.

  “Early this morning. I was up, pacing. I saw he was, too. We are alike in that way. I wasn’t sure he would let me on board the Nightingale, but he did.”

  “Was Ivan Alexander there?”

  “No. At least I didn’t see him. I saw Natalie. She is so gentle. So sweet.” Tatiana’s shoulders slumped; her jacket looked gigantic on her. “You FBI people always find out everything about everybody, yes?”

  Colin narrowed his eyes on her. “Is there something about you we should know?”

  “Much, yes. Much.” She tried to smile, then moaned, tightening her arms against her abdomen. “Such cramps.”

  “Tatiana, how sick are you?”

  She seemed confused. “Sick?”

  “Are you running a fever?”

  “No.”

  “Are you having difficulty breathing?”

  “A little. I think it’s nerves. My stomach…” She shuddered, gave him a meek smile. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Have you been vomiting?”

  She nodded, obviously embarrassed. “It’s nothing.” She seemed to make an effort to square her shoulders and give him a stubborn, dramatic look. “Ask your questions, Special Agent Colin Donovan.”

  “Your speech is slurred. What have you had to eat or drink?”

  “It doesn’t matter—”

  “Cider?” Colin asked sharply.

  Tatiana paled even more. “Yes. With Dmitri. How do you know?”

  “Where did you get the cider?”

  “I brought it.”

  “And sketches?”

  “No. I did the sketches there. On the Nightingale. I drew falcons. They’re from the story of Olga. The falcons protect her from her wicked stepmother.” Tatiana wriggled out of her jacket and let it fall onto the love seat. “My first visit to Maine hasn’t gone well. Heron’s Cove is very beautiful. Life here must be nice but I feel as if I have poisoned this place with my selfish fears. The Rusakov collection isn’t worth bad things happening to innocent people.”

  Colin moved closer to her. “What bad things, Tatiana?”

  She shoved the tapestry bag off the sketches, then pointed a shaking finger at the top sketch. “Do you know what this is?”

  “Looks like a kite and—what, a butterfly?”

  “A moth. A simple moth.”

  Colin didn’t give a damn about moths and butterflies.

  “I will tell you another fable,” Tatiana said, her dark eyes fixed on the sketch. “A moth sees a kite flying high in the sky, above everyone else. The kite thinks the moth—so tiny in the valley below—must be envious. But the moth isn’t envious, for the kite is on a string that is controlled by someone else. The moth might never attain such heights as the kite, but she is free to go and to do as she pleases.”

  She moaned, and Colin got out his cell phone. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

  She looked up from the sketch, tears glistening in her eyes, on the lashes. “I like to be tiny moth.” Her arm fell away from her abdomen, as if she didn’t have the strength to hold it there. “I should have stayed in London. I was wrong to interfere, but I return today. I’ll be inconsequential again soon. A speck, like moth.” Tears spilled down her waxen cheeks. “I’ve always believed the worst about Dmitri Rusakov.”

  “It’s true,” Ivan Alexander said as he entered the cottage from the deck. “She has from the time she was a small child.”

  Colin hit Kevin’s number on his cell phone even as he took in Ivan’s words, his presence—Tatiana’s reaction to him. Not just acceptance. Expectance. She had known he would be there for her.

  “A small child?” Colin sighed. “She’s Dmitri’s daughter?”

  Ivan nodded.

  “I want nothing from Dmitri Rusakov,” Tatiana mumbled, sobbing silently.

  Ivan said something to her in Russian, then switched to English as he addressed Colin. “She convinced herself that her father was involved in arms trafficking with Vladimir Bulgov. She wanted to save the collection from him and help Natalie understand that she needs to stay away from him.”

  Tatiana looked up at Ivan, her eyes wide with fear and whatever was making her sick. “Ivan…I’m a mere moth. I can’t fly as high as the kite but I am free.”

  But she was fading.

  “She needs to get to a hospital,” Ivan said.

  Colin nodded as Kevin answered. He spoke to his brother. “I’m at Tatiana Pavlova’s cottage in Heron’s Cove. She needs an ambulance. I think she’s been poisoned.”

  “The cider?” Kevin asked.

  “That’s my guess.”

  Kevin swore. “There’s more. Now that he’s warmed up and fully conscious, Andy remembers seeing two men by Hurley’s boathouse. Julianne says she saw a dinghy but didn’t see the men. One was in his mid-thirties. Medium brown hair. Scary-looking, according to Andy. The other was older. Gray hair. Andy started over to them when he was hit from behind.”

  Colin sucked in a breath.

  “Colin?”

  He gave Kevin Yank’s number. “Tell him that Horner, Boris and Yuri are here.”

  “These are the guys that tried to kill you?” Kevin asked.

  Colin didn’t sidestep his brother’s question. “Yes. Tell Yank to fill you in. Then meet me at the Nightingale.” He disconnected and turned to Ivan. “The cider. Did you drink any?”

  “No.”

  “Who did?”

  “Dmitri,” Ivan said, focused, any emotion banked down.

  “Tell the ambulance crew you suspect deliberate poisoning. My guess is botulism. It’s soon for symptoms to appear if she drank the cider this morning, but it’s not impossible—and she could have ingested the botulism sooner, another way.”

  Ivan glanced at Tatiana, then leveled his gaze at Colin. “Agreed. You’ll find Emma?”

  “She trusts you.”

  “She should.”

  “And I trust Emma. I don’t know if that’s an algebraic equation, but yes, I’ll find her. The ambulance is only minutes out.” Colin started for the sliding glass door, looked back at the Russian. “Can you handle this situation?”

  “I’ll keep Tatiana safe.”

  “You always do, don’t you?”

  Ivan didn’t answer, and Colin headed out, dialing Emma again. She still didn’t pick up. By the time he reached the street, he was running.

  His guys from Florida were there.

  A Russian billionaire…a collection worth a fortune…

  An anxious, dangerous buyer who wanted the promised weapons.

  Pete Horner and his Russian thugs wouldn’t hesitate this time.

  They would kill whoever they had to kill.

  25

  EMMA RACED OUT the gangway. She expected Natalie to be on her way by now, but she was still on the pier, a man in a car service uniform with her, taking her suitcase. Natalie gave an exaggerated shiver as she slung her tote bag over one shoulder. “It’s chilly,” she said to the driver. “Just as well I’m going back to Arizona. Thanks for waiting for me. Shall we be off?”

  “Hold on, Natalie,” Emm
a said. “I need to talk to you.” She showed her badge to the driver. “Move back, please.”

  Natalie turned to him. “It’s okay. I’ll only be a minute. I’ll pay extra for your wait.” She smiled at Emma, a little impatiently. “What can I do for you?”

  “I want you to come back on board the Nightingale with me and clear up a few things.”

  “Why? Is something wrong?”

  “The Rusakov collection isn’t in the case in the guest cabin.”

  “It’s not? Well, I wouldn’t know where it is. Ivan or Dmitri must have collected it.”

  Emma cut her off. “I’m a federal agent, Natalie. You don’t want to lie to me. Were you in London in April?”

  “London? I don’t see what that has to do with anything. You’re checking up on me? The FBI? You can do that for no good reason?” Natalie gave a hollow laugh. “This is absurd. I’m leaving.”

  “Not until I’m sure Dmitri, Ivan and the collection are all safe. It’s for your safety, too.” The driver stepped forward and started to reach for Natalie’s tote bag. Emma shook her head at him. “Hold on.”

  He ignored her. As he shifted to take the bag, Emma noticed a scar under his left eye, remembered that Yuri, the older of the two Russian thugs who had attacked Colin, had a scar under his left eye.

  It was enough for her. She reached for her Glock in its holster on her belt, but he reacted immediately, swinging around and nailing her in the midsection with his elbow. She shifted, avoiding the worst impact of the blow, but it was still enough to bring her to her knees. She drew her weapon just as Colin jumped onto the pier from the yacht club.

  He already had his weapon in his hand. “Don’t move, Yuri. Not even a twitch. You, too, Natalie. Keep your hands where Agent Sharpe and I can see them.”

  “I will.” Natalie was pale, shivering. “You two just do your thing.”

  Colin focused on Yuri. “Where’s Horner?”

  The Russian didn’t answer.

  “Who poisoned the cider? Him? Boris? You?”

  Still no answer.

  “Where’s Dmitri Rusakov?” Emma asked.

  Yuri muttered something in Russian that she took to be a curse. Colin turned him around, cuffed him and sat him down on the gangway. “Emma,” he said, his eyes still on Yuri, “did you touch any cider?”

  The cider. She shook her head. “No.”

  “It’s poisoned. Tatiana’s sick. An ambulance is on the way. Ivan Alexander is with her.”

  Natalie gasped. “Poison? What on earth—”

  Emma steadied her Glock on her. “Keep your hands where we can see them.”

  “Of course. I don’t want any trouble. I don’t have a gun hidden up my sleeve.”

  “What about poison?” Emma asked. “What did you put in the cider?”

  “Me?” Natalie looked shocked. “What are you talking about? Why would I want to poison anyone?” She blinked back tears. “You’re scaring me.”

  “You should be scared,” Colin said without sympathy. “You’re in the middle of a volatile, dangerous situation. Your only good option is to cooperate.”

  “I’m sure you’re both good at what you do, but the only volatile, dangerous situation I’m in the middle of is the one you two are creating.” Tears streaming down her cheeks, Natalie pointed at Yuri. “I don’t know who this man is. All I did was hire a car service to take me to the airport.”

  Colin was unrelenting. “You had your Russian friends deliver poisoned cider and sketches to Finian Bracken and my family and pretend they were from Tatiana.”

  “I did no such thing!”

  “Yes, you did,” Emma said, the pieces of what Colin was saying falling into place with what she had seen up in the lounge. “What did you do, slip poison into cider Tatiana brought on board? Was the sketch of the falcon your idea?”

  “Fin got a falcon, too,” Colin said, tight.

  Natalie was pale, her lower lip trembling. “Tatiana wanted to show Dmitri how good she was, how clever. Why? What’s wrong with the sketches?”

  “Tatiana is Dmitri’s daughter,” Emma said. “But you know that already. Did your mother know? Was she jealous of Tatiana? Are you jealous, Natalie?”

  She snapped up straight. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I’ll bet we’re going to find out you were in London in April,” Emma said, still addressing Natalie. “You met Pete Horner then. Got swept up in that world. Made promises you couldn’t keep. Now you and Horner and his Russian friends owe weapons to some very bad people.”

  “You’re in a mess, Natalie,” Colin said. “Rusakov’s not buying the collection from you. There’s not going to be any quick cash. You’ve got all you’re going to get from him.”

  “Colin and I haven’t touched your poisoned cider,” Emma said. “Tatiana is still alive. She’s getting medical help.”

  Colin nodded. “My family and Finian Bracken are fine. No one’s dead, Natalie. You can still walk back from the precipice. Tell us where Dmitri is before it’s too late. There’s an effective antitoxin to botulism poisoning. It needs to be administered as soon as possible after ingestion. Symptoms typically start appearing in eight to twelve hours, but it can be sooner—as apparently is the case with Tatiana. Left untreated, botulism poisoning is lethal.”

  “People won’t just get sick,” Emma added. “They’ll die. Dmitri and anyone else who drank the cider need immediate medical help.”

  Natalie put her hands in front of her, palms down, defiant now, insulted. “If you think I tried to kill anyone, put me in handcuffs. Arrest me.”

  Colin shrugged. “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

  Kevin Donovan and his colleagues in the state and local police swarmed the pier.

  Yuri glared up at Colin. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

  “Yeah. You should have.” He turned to Emma. “Let’s go find Dmitri and anyone else who had a taste of the cider.”

  * * *

  They located Dmitri Rusakov in a small study next to the master stateroom, slumped on the floor amid a pool of fresh vomit. Emma had heard his moan, and she and Colin smashed in the locked door.

  She knelt next to the Russian billionaire. He was having difficulty breathing and was clearly weak, in pain. “Tatiana,” he mumbled. “My sweet girl.”

  “She’s safe,” Emma said. “Ivan’s with her. Are you alone?”

  Colin checked the room, nodded to her. “It’s clear.”

  “He needs a hospital, fast,” she said.

  Dmitri fumbled for her hand. “Tatiana is not responsible for this. She didn’t try to kill me, herself. Anyone.”

  “I know, Dmitri. Hang on, okay? Help is on the way.”

  Tears ran down his cheeks but he was too weak to answer. Colin squatted down next to him. “I bet Natalie and her friends managed to get botulism into him and Tatiana last night. Damn. The sick bastards.”

  They made Dmitri as comfortable as possible as the state and local police checked the yacht, discovering sick crewmembers but no Pete Horner or Boris, then let in the paramedics.

  “Boris and Pete are waiting for Yuri and Natalie to join them,” Colin said as he followed Emma out into the sprawling master stateroom. “Boris and Yuri stopped in Rock Point early this morning in a dinghy.”

  Emma paused at the foot of the king-size bed. “So they have a bigger boat.”

  “Yep.”

  He was already on his way out of the stateroom. Emma followed him to the gangway and disembarked the Nightingale with him.

  Natalie was on the pier, handcuffed, screaming. “You all think you’re so smart, don’t you? Damn you! Damn you to hell. I want you all out of my brain. I want you all dead. Dmitri, Ivan, Tatiana, Emma, Colin, his family, her family. All suffering. All dead.”

  Colin grimaced next to Emma. “I guess that’s the real Natalie,” he said. “Glad I showed up?”

  “Yuri should be. I was about to lose my temper. I don’t like getting hit.”
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  “I don’t like you getting hit, either,” Colin said in a low voice, close to her. “You had everything under control.”

  “More or less. You saved Tatiana.”

  “Ivan would have found her in time,” he said.

  She touched his arm. “We’re not keeping score, right?”

  “Right. A jug of poisoned cider was meant for us, too, Emma.”

  “I love cider, just without botulism.”

  Kevin Donovan approached his older brother. “We think we know where Pete Horner’s boat is. Want to come with me?”

  Colin glanced at Emma. “I used to be with the marine patrol.”

  “That much I do know about you. Go, Colin.” With more local and state police descending, and Matt Yankowski en route, she resisted kissing him. “Get the bastards who tried to kill you.”

  Kevin grinned at her, then clapped his brother on the shoulder. “See why we all like Emma?”

  * * *

  “My turn,” Colin said an hour later as he sat across from Pete Horner at a table in the Nightingale’s lounge. A cool breeze that tasted of salt and smelled of home floated off the water, but Colin stayed focused on what he was there to do. Emma stood by the bar. He liked having her there and knew she liked being there, seeing into a corner of his world as an undercover operative.

  Matt Yankowski was in the vicinity but hadn’t yet come aboard the luxury yacht. Colin had reported that he, Kevin and a contingent from the Maine State Police had found Horner, Boris and a stash of illegal weapons on a boat about to cruise out of Heron’s Cove into the open ocean. The use of overwhelming force had convinced Horner and Boris to surrender without a fight.

  Now Colin hoped he could convince Horner to talk, too.

  “Going to feed me to the alligators?” Horner asked with a smirk that was half bravado, half for real.

  Colin shook his head. “Nope. We don’t have alligators up here in Maine.”

  “Water’s cold, though. How long would I last?”

  “A beefy guy like you? Longer than you deserve.” Colin sat back against the cushioned, elegant chair. “You look tired, Pete. Rough few days, huh?”

  The pilot’s watery, bloodshot eyes leveled on Colin from across the table. “You have no idea.”