Enemy Waters

by Justine Davis

  He’d never had a sibling, so he really could only guess at that kind of love, but it was obvious she loved her big brother deeply. There was only a couple of years between them, Jones had said, and Cooper wondered if that made them closer.

  And he could only imagine the bond between them strengthened immeasurably after they’d lost, in essence, both parents.

  He understood, sort of. He’d been worried about his mother after his dad had been killed, and for a while had been afraid for her, at least as much as his fourteen-year-old mind could process her mood. She’d told him once, after a crying jag that had frightened him into thinking he was going to lose her, too, that she’d lived with this in her head for years, every cop’s wife did.

  Later, when he’d been a little older and he’d asked her about that time, she said being married to a cop, you always knew something like this could happen. It had been like having an abscess, always there, putting pressure on you, painful, and worse when you focused on it.

  And when it had finally happened, it was like that abscess that ruptured, draining its poison through her system, and it had been touch and go whether it would kill her, too.

  She’d been safely past that point when he’d asked, although to this day she occasionally got teary eyed when she thought about his father. It had rattled him a little when she admitted she’d considered ending the pain. But she hadn’t, because of him. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, do it to him, couldn’t leave him, she loved him too much.

  Yes, he’d been rattled, not only because of the close call, but because he realized he’d somehow sensed it, back then, even at fourteen. Just as he’d sensed when it was safe to ask, much later.

  You’re a perceptive kid, Cooper. And observant. You’d make a good cop.

  His father’s words shot through his mind, stopping his pacing midstride. He remembered it so clearly, that day on the way to the ball field. A woman had been leading a young boy away from the field where the younger Little League team had just finished a game. The woman was yelling at the child, chastising him soundly as she hustled him toward the parking area.

  “She’s pretty upset,” his father had said.

  “She’s probably just scared,” Cooper answered.

  His father had looked at him curiously. “Why do you think that?”

  Cooper remembered feeling a spurt of panic, because he wasn’t quite sure why he thought it, and he didn’t want his dad thinking he was stupid. It took him a moment to dissect the mental process that had happened so fast, and another moment to get it into words. But his father had waited, patiently.

  “Because his shirt was torn, and he was bleeding a little. And she was pulling at him, but not that arm, she was real careful. And she was yelling at him about being careful. So I think he got hurt, and that scared her, and she yelled. Mom does that, sometimes, when I scare her.”

  And that had earned him the accolade that had swelled him up with pride for weeks afterward. And filled him with determination to be just that, when he grew up.

  And less than six months later his father had been dead.

  His phone’s message alert chirped, startling him out of the morass of memory. This was followed by another, different chirp declaring the presence of email; it had caught up after being off for so long.

  The email was from his mom, a chatty, catching-up kind of thing, since she’d been off visiting his aunt Claire in Colorado for a week. He’d get to that later, he thought, as he checked voice mail. Two messages from his college buddy Derek about a pickup baseball game next week, one from the last woman he could technically call a girlfriend, announcing pointedly that she was engaged. And next came a text message from Tristan Jones. The man seemed suddenly addicted to them, never simply leaving a voice mail anymore. Cooper hadn’t actually spoken to the man since the call after he’d found his sister. The message reported he was having trouble extricating himself from scheduled meetings, something about cabinet ministers, but hoped to be on his way tomorrow.

  Cooper’s mouth quirked as he exited the program and put the phone back on the shelf. Cabinet ministers? That was some job Tanya’s husband had given her brother. But after almost killing the guy, Cooper supposed it was fitting. Guilt-easing, at least.

  And at least this time he acknowledged the delay, saying he hadn’t really expected Cooper to find her so quickly, after they’d been searching for months.

  If it was placating flattery, it worked, Cooper thought wryly. Made him feel good, anyway.

  Until he realized that it truly was almost over. Tomorrow, or two days if Jones overnighted in New York or someplace, brother and sister would be reunited, and his job would be done.

  And Nell Parker would probably vanish as if she’d never existed. Because in fact, she never really had. Tanya Jones Brown would reemerge, glamorous, rich and society page worthy, and go back to her life, all this likely forgotten after the first charity gala her husband put on.

  Her husband.

  He felt like he’d been punched. Which was ridiculous; it wasn’t like he hadn’t known. He just hadn’t thought about it lately. Why should he? What did it matter to him that she was still married to some high-powered type who did fundraising for the upper crust of business and politics? A noble kind of guy, her brother had said, who had raised millions for charity over the years.

  But if he was so noble, why had his wife run? Why hadn’t she turned to him for solace and support when she thought her brother dead? If it had truly been an accident that night…

  That was the one thing that had bothered him about this case since the beginning. But now that he’d met her, seen how wary and skittish she was, it made more sense. She was a sensitive type and probably just couldn’t handle staying where it had all happened. And he certainly understood the need to simply get away—he’d surely wanted to after his father had died. She’d just carried it a little far.

  But the bottom line he needed to remember right now was that she was still married to the guy. And for all his many sins he’d never swum in that pool and never intended to start.

  No matter what that simple, heartfelt hug had done to him.

  “So why did you leave California?”

  The abrupt question caught Nell off guard. They were walking to the café today; she’d decided she’d been eating far too well lately and needed the exercise. Cooper had shown up at her door just as she was leaving, offered her a ride as usual. She was tempted, especially after yesterday’s lovely expedition, but had held firm. When she’d declined he had affably agreed and decided to walk with her.

  It had been pleasant, until they’d reached the waterfront and he’d hit her with that question again. And her own sudden, harsh reaction told her just how far she’d let down her guard with this man.

  Fool, she told herself.

  “The heat got to me,” she answered, thinking it true on many levels.

  “What about your friends?”

  She nearly laughed at that, but stifled it, knowing it would come out bitter and harsh. Pitiful as it sounded, she had no real friends. She’d lost touch with—or been cut off from—anyone she’d known before her marriage. New friends had all been Jeremy’s. Selected and approved by him as suitable accoutrements to the lifestyle he’d built. And more importantly, all with connections that sooner or later could be of use to him.

  “They haven’t missed me much,” she said.

  “I don’t believe that,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she said, despite thinking his response had just been an automatic, polite thing to say. Maybe that was all this was, a normal attempt to make conversation. Maybe.

  “What could make you leave paradise?”

  Or maybe not, she thought. Was there something more than a teasing generality in his tone? Why did he keep asking about it? Suspicion bit deep.

  “It’s far from paradise, especially these days. I don’t miss it.”

  “Don’t miss the beach, the sun, the famous people, the parties?”

&n
bsp; An icicle-cold chill knifed through her. She bit her lip in an effort to stay calm—and quiet. He had just described her life there to a T. As if he knew.

  She clamped down on the panic that seemed to sleep only periodically, ready to awaken at full strength at any slight hint of danger. And this hadn’t been just a hint. More like a sledgehammer, pounding everything she’d ever tried to put behind her back to full, terrifying life again.

  She fought the urge to run, right here and now. Mainly because she couldn’t decide where to run to. Into the café, where they’d finally arrived and where he was following her to anyway? Back home, where he was in essence living himself?

  Pain tightened around her heart as she thought of leaving what she truly had come to think of as home. And Roger, who had been nothing short of a godsend to her, and the first real friend she’d had in years.

  “I’m sure there are people who’d want you to come back,” he was saying.

  She nearly screamed it at him then, that yes, there was one who would want her back, so he could finish what he’d started.

  “You should be in diamonds, at glittering galas, all that.”

  Her heart was pounding now. In a very different way than it usually did around him. He was coming too close to the truth, and there was only one reason she could see for it, one reason he would say such things about the plain, nondescript person she’d made herself into.

  He knew. Knew who she was, or had been. And there was only one way that could be.

  Jeremy had finally found her.

  Chapter 14

  Cooper stared down into his mug. Not even the Waterfront’s rich brew could distract him at the moment.

  He’d been worried enough that he’d come back for lunch, telling Nell he’d been out anyway to pick up some parts for The Peacemaker. She’d looked, oddly, more tired than she had this morning. Or worried. Maybe that was it. She’d been surprised to see him. And then warier than ever. And unlike the first time he’d come in here, he had no doubts she was very aware he was watching her.

  And more suspicious than ever.

  He looked over toward the kitchen, where she was in deep conversation with Riley, the ex-Navy cook. As he looked, the man reached out and put a hand on her arm, as if to steady her.

  He’d really spooked her this time. And he wasn’t sure why. Obviously it was his talk about her life before, but why would that spook her? Even if she suspected he wasn’t being honest with her, why would she be afraid? It wasn’t like he was a threat to her. In fact, once she found out why he was really here, she’d be overjoyed.

  She was, he thought, an enigma. He tried to put himself in her head. A tragedy breaks her heart, she leaves to get away from it, ends up here, drawn by memories of a long-ago, happier time. Up to there, it made sense to him. The drastic changing of her looks seemed extreme, but he stuck with his conclusion that it was a female thing he’d be better off not trying to figure out.

  On that thought he looked back toward the kitchen, but she must have finished her conversation with Riley because he was back to work, pulling a fresh loaf of the local bakery bread off the shelf above the grill.

  He went back to his musings, trying to unravel the mystery that was Tanya Brown/Nell Parker. So after all that, she meets a stranger, they become acquainted, she does him a favor, they spend some time together and despite the edginess he can’t quite explain, seem to be getting along fine. Well, minus that moment on the trail to the falls, when he’d thought she was going to run screaming into the woods as if she’d seen Sasquatch.

  And then he asks a couple of simple questions anyone might ask, out of his own curiosity about why someone would leave a life many—not him, but many—would envy. He’d just been trying to gain some insight into why she seemed so wary all the time. But she freaks. Why?

  It made no sense to him. She had reason to be emotional, and perhaps even touchy, but why was she afraid? And what was she afraid of?

  Doubts began to assail him, doubts about many things. Was there more to this than he’d been told?

  He took another sip of coffee, trying to slow his racing thoughts. The rich brew was merely warm now, and he was down to the last few swallows in the mug. Odd, Nell would usually have him topped off long before now.

  He looked around, but didn’t see her. And then Sheila, the woman who worked the register, came by with the pot.

  “Where’s Nell?” he asked.

  “Something came up. She asked me to cover for her.”

  Cooper frowned. She must have left through the back door. The restrooms were back there, so when he’d seen her heading toward the back, he’d assumed that was her destination. And she hadn’t said anything about an errand. Not that she had to tell him her schedule, but wasn’t that something you might well mention in casual conversation about the day ahead?

  “She’s gone? Where?”

  Sheila looked at him assessingly. “You’re the one staying out at Mr. Donlan’s, right? On the boat?”

  He nodded, not surprised word had gotten around; it seemed everybody knew everybody’s business around here. Except for Nell, whom they all seemed to conspire to protect. Not that he could blame them; she inspired the same sort of feelings in him.

  “Guess it’s all right then,” she said. “Not sure where she went. She never takes any time, so I don’t mind.”

  “When did she leave?”

  The woman glanced at the old-fashioned pendulum clock on the wall. “About twenty minutes ago.”

  She’d gone right after talking to Riley, then. And he’d been sitting here like a lump, lulled into complacency by her consistent routine.

  “When’s she coming back?” he asked.

  “Not sure. She borrowed Riley’s car, so I’m guessing it could be a while.”

  He set his mug back down sharply. A car. Damn.

  The woman moved off to the others suffering from empty coffee cups. Cooper shifted his gaze to the man in the kitchen, whose conversation with Nell was now explained. She’d been asking for the car. An occurrence so rare it had brought on that gesture of concern.

  He got up and walked over to where the man was lifting a basket of French fries out of the fryer. Riley was a direct sort of guy, so he didn’t bother with niceties.

  “Where’d Nell go?”

  The man hooked the basket on a stand, letting the oil drain back into the fryer, never looking up. Or answering.

  “Riley?”

  Bread went onto the big grill, next to some bacon and a couple of burgers. Still no answer.

  “Where did she go?” he asked again.

  Finally the man looked at him. “Not your business.”

  “I’m just worried about her.”

  “Then leave her alone. That’s what she wants.”

  “She took your car. So it’s not anywhere close by or she’d just walk.”

  “Clever boy, aren’t you?”

  The way the man said it, it wasn’t a compliment.

  Sheila brought him two orders then, and he turned to his work with such intent that Cooper knew he’d get nothing more out of the man. Not that he needed it. Because he already knew, deep in his gut, with that perception his father had once been proud of.

  He’d spooked her, all right. Right into running.

  He tossed a five down on the counter and went out the back door, just in case he was all wrong and she was already on her way back with Riley’s car, whatever errand it had been accomplished. He wasn’t surprised when the single parking space to the rear was empty; he would have been surprised if she, or the car, had been there.

  He swore inwardly again, harsher this time. He should never have brought up her past. There was no need. His job was only to keep her in sight. He’d been indulging his own selfish curiosity, had gone too far and now she’d rabbited on him. That he still didn’t understand why didn’t matter. What mattered was he had to find her again, and fast. And then he had to do whatever it took to keep her here.

  He started wal
king, back the way they’d come this morning. She’d go home first, wouldn’t she? Gather up her things? And…say goodbye to Roger? That thought made him wince; he knew she thought the world of the old man. And vice versa. How would she explain?

  His thoughts stopped as if they’d hit a wall. Would she even have to explain? Or did the man who’d become her friend and protector already know why she was so scared?

  He had to get there. Fast. To either find her, or get information out of Roger.

  And if she is there? What are you going to do, tie her up?

  He swore a third time, this time aloud and with a clenched jaw.

  There was only one way to do this, and her brother was just going to have to understand that. He yanked out his phone and dialed the number. It went directly to Tristan Jones’s voice mail, where the greeting had been changed to say he was on his way back from London. Cooper waited several minutes, until he got to where the walking path left the scenic waterfront and turned into a residential sidewalk, and tried again. Same result. Jones must be in the air right now, and so had the phone turned off.

  The decision, it seemed, was his. But in reality, it was already made. It had to be more important to keep her from running than to preserve the surprise, however much her brother looked forward to the pleasure. His idiocy had probably cost him the last of his fee.

  And the fact that that was the thing that bothered him least…bothered him.

  He sent a short text explaining as best he could, shoved the phone back in his pocket and started to run.

  Chapter 15

  She was not going to cry.

  “You’re sure about this?”

  “Sure enough that I can’t take a chance.”

  Roger shifted his weight in the doorway of her cottage. The cottage that she’d come to love. The landlord who had become much more; a dear, trusted friend. In a life devoid of such friends for a long time, she’d found several here. And it was tearing her apart to think of leaving. So she started to pack faster.

  She’d gotten a little lax in the past month or so, easing up on her determination to keep possessions at a minimum. She’d arrived here with a twenty-five-inch duffel bag, and now she had enough to fill two of them.