There was a pause. The phone rang but Thom ignored it. “You don’t need to thank me, Brent. You gave everything you had to protect that boy. After what happened to Bianca”—his voice got rough talking about his first wife, who was murdered thirty years ago—“I was grateful someone was out there protecting others from violence. I just wish someone had been there to save you…”
Brent planted his hands on his hips and frowned down at the man. He wasn’t that shit-scared sixteen-year-old anymore and this wasn’t what he’d come to discuss. Frankly, his battered dysfunctional heritage was something he spent most of his time trying to forget.
Thom avoided his eye, but kept talking. “To be honest I was glad to have someone around to look after.” His lips drew back on one side. “That sounds terrible—”
“No, I get it.” Sometimes, when you lost everything, you had to take comfort where you could find it.
“Laura likes her painting, by the way,” Thomas said softly. Laura Prescott was Thomas’s girlfriend and Brent’s lawyer. An unlikely ally for a man like him, but a good person to have in his corner. As a thank-you for her help last year, he’d painted her an enormous canvas he could barely get through his double doors.
“Does she have a wall big enough to hang it on?” He opened the door back to the secretary’s office.
Thomas laughed and followed him out. “If she doesn’t, she’ll probably build a new house. It’s a good thing she isn’t attracted to—” He cut himself off.
“Ex-cons. You can say it, Thom. Not like everyone isn’t thinking it.” He gave Gladys a pointed stare. She sniffed and looked away.
“I was going to say artistic types,” he muttered under his breath, obviously still trying to keep Brent’s alter ego a secret. “Anyway, I always thought what you did was more in the line of self-defense than—”
Brent held up his hand to cut him off. He did not want to talk about it. Thomas looked upset, obviously wanting to say more, but Brent wasn’t looking for absolution. And when had he gotten so soft that he cared what other people thought? But he knew when. Last spring, when Gina was murdered, and these people had helped him through the second worst day of his life.
“You going to marry her?” he asked Thom.
Gladys’s chin jerked up then, and her eyes brightened. If anyone deserved a Happy Ever After, it was Thomas Edgefield.
“You think I should?”
Brent laughed bitterly. “I’m the last person you should be asking for romantic advice.”
Thomas followed him outside and they both looked across the inlet to the other side of Bamfield. “I was thinking about it, but…” He shuddered and, despite the heat, huddled deeper into his V-neck sweater.
“It’s hard to let go of the past sometimes.” Brent understood.
“What if I’m bad luck?”
Brent pressed his lips together, because wasn’t that one of the reasons he guarded his privacy so fiercely? Not just because he didn’t like people—which he didn’t—but because he was terrified that getting involved was sure to get any friend—or lover—killed.
But he’d sacrificed his soul years ago and didn’t deserve that sort of happiness. Thom did.
“I’m pretty sure if any of us has earned the love of a good woman, Thom, it’s you.” And he strode away because he didn’t want to think about love or what it did to people when it all went pear-shaped.
Rand figured Vancouver was everything they said and more. It had ocean, mountains, enough Oriental restaurants to satisfy a horde of invaders—everything a guy could want, minus a cute, petite brunette who held his balls tightly in her sweet little hands.
Anna Silver was putting him to a lot of trouble. If she got hold of that envelope before he did, she’d have the power to put them all inside. That was not going to happen.
“You seen this girl?” He’d given the local transportation people some bullshit about being US cops with no jurisdiction in this country, looking for a woman who’d kidnapped her children. It was a good way of garnering sympathy from a largely male workforce, but they needed to be careful to avoid the attention of the Canadian Border Services Agency.
A grease monkey stripping down an engine of a Cessna glanced at the picture of the woman, paused, and shook his head.
“Were you here Friday night, Saturday morning?” The man shook his head again and went back to his wrenches. The place stank of motor oil and avgas, manual labor, and a lifetime of drudgery.
He curled his lip.
Petrie had found no record of the girl on any passenger manifests out of Vancouver International Airport. Rand and Marco were canvassing the car rental companies and smaller regional airports. Boundary Bay was only a short hop from the international airport, and Rand had a feeling about the place. Unfortunately no one was giving them jack.
She could have jumped on a bus and headed to downtown Vancouver. The chances of finding her without a money trail were about a million to one.
He walked to the hangar door, looked out at the flat delta that surrounded them. Called Kudrow. “Give me something to work with. I’m pissing in the wind here. Fucking Canucks don’t know a damn thing about anything.”
“Here’s something.” He could hear the excitement in the other man’s voice. “Davis’s ex—Anna’s mommy—still lives in Victoria on Vancouver Island. It’s where the teacher grew up and where Davis committed his crime.”
He felt a tingle low in his spine. She’d bolted for home. “Got an address for me?” He motioned for Marco to join him as he memorized the address, then hung up. He headed back inside the hangar and into the manager’s small office. “We need a flight to Victoria. Any chance one of your boys can give us a ride?”
The grease monkey followed him inside, listening in on the conversation. “You find that girl you’re looking for?”
Rand gave him a smooth smile. “Was the damnedest thing. She’s been spotted on Vancouver Island.”
The grease monkey’s eyes slid away and Rand knew the fuckchop had lied to him. “I’ll give you twice the going rate if we can leave in the next thirty minutes.”
The manager’s eyes lit up. “Andy here can take you.”
“Sorry, boss, I’m going to have to order another part for the Skyhawk.”
“I thought you said you were almost done?”
“I just noticed a crack in the prop and we don’t have a spare in the warehouse.” Andy, the grease monkey, backed away a few steps and refused to meet his eye.
Rand and Marco exchanged a look. If leaving a trail of bodies in their wake wouldn’t be a problem, this guy’s neck would have been snapped. Unfortunately they’d questioned too many people, and had been caught on several surveillance cameras. If they got nowhere in Victoria, Rand would come back and work on the bastard until he spilled more than his guts.
“There’s another pilot heading to Victoria via Nanaimo in fifteen minutes. You can catch a ride with him.” The boss shouldered past his employee and Rand followed him out. Excitement started to spread along his nerves. Most soldiers balked at taking human life, but it had never bothered Rand. Murder was easy to hide in a war zone, but in a civilian world it was more of a challenge. He wasn’t worried. He knew how to escape and evade, and he had no intention of ever getting captured.
CHAPTER 4
Katherine Plantain hurried to dress for breakfast. She shimmied into new linen pants and wondered if the neighbor’s teenage son had remembered to cut the lawn. She checked her wristwatch: 6:50 a.m.
They’d agreed no cell phones on this vacation, but she’d nurtured that lawn back to life after Ed had removed one of her prized azalea bushes last fall. Damned if all her gardening efforts were going to waste for the sake of a thirty-second phone call. She turned on the phone and noticed she had a message from Anna.
She smiled, then sighed. Thoughts of Anna always brought a pang. She’d failed her in so many ways and had no idea how to make it up to her, or how to fix things. But Anna didn’t need fixing and she’d m
ade it more than clear over the years that she didn’t want her mother’s help. She’d made herself a good life in the States. Had a successful, fulfilling career. Except for that one blip, Anna was the most sensible, most levelheaded person she knew. They all knew who to blame for the blip.
Anna was OK now, and she was also fiercely independent. Katherine put her phone to her ear and listened to the message. Her knees dissolved. She sank to the bed as her muscles turned to smoke.
Davis was dead?
She expected to feel relief, happiness even, but the image that flickered through her mind was him on his knees the day he’d proposed, and the look of love that had captured her already ensnared heart when he’d begged her to marry him.
Ed stuck his head through the door and she jumped.
“I thought we’d agreed no cell phones?” he chided sternly.
“I was just reminding Nate to mow the lawn.” The lie tripped off her tongue without conscious thought. She struggled to form the words to tell Ed about Davis’s death, but they dissolved, unspoken. A cold wave of something that felt a lot like grief washed over her and pinned her in place with the weight of iron. Her lips refused to move.
She just needed time to process the information, then she’d tell Ed. First, she needed to call Anna back, to see if she was OK.
His lips firmed.
“Fine.” With shaking hands, Katherine deleted the message and turned off the phone. “I won’t call him. See?” She went to stow the cell in the side of her suitcase, but Ed shook his head and held out his hand.
“Hand it over. We’re on a technology-free vacation.”
She wanted to roll her eyes, but felt a familiar sense of numbness closing in around her. There were pay phones on the ship, she’d call Anna later. “Fine. But if that grass is d-dead”—she tripped over the word—“I’m ordering new turf when we get back.”
Ed tucked the phone into his satchel and shook his head. “Who would have thought when I married you that you’d turn into a gardening fiend?” He slipped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her brow.
She leaned against him and waited for his presence to calm her. But it didn’t. Instead there was an unexpected pain that she could never reveal to the man who’d saved her when the man she’d loved had ripped her existence to shreds. Being dead didn’t change the betrayal or the grief, but it sank the knife that little bit deeper.
Tired of her confinement, Anna broke out some cash and decided to hit the convenience store. Chocolate might not cure all that ailed her, but at least it would give her a temporary high that wasn’t dangerous or illegal.
The reality that her father was dead was beginning to sink in. She would never get the chance to repair their relationship. Never get the chance to kiss him good-bye and tell him she loved him—that she’d always loved him.
There was a pain in her chest, just under her heart. It ached.
The sky was clear blue and the trees a dense impenetrable green as she followed the gravel road back the way she’d come last night. The air was sweet with grass pollen, bushes dripping with ripening huckleberries and thimbleberries.
Could she really be in danger in a place like this?
The idea seemed surreal. Staying with an ex-con was surreal. She tried not to think about the fact she was being forced to rely on a man about as trustworthy as her father.
Brent was not the man she’d expected to find, and yet he was exactly the kind of person she needed to help her through this mess. And her father had trusted him. That bond had gone deep.
She walked past the Coast Guard station and turned right along the boardwalk to the store to buy a cold drink. Two men sat on a bench outside the store, watching her curiously. Another guy in crisp black pants and a pale blue uniform shirt stared at her with eyes the color of coal. His face was handsome but harsh. She avoided his gaze and picked up a basket from near the door. The men’s interest unnerved her and she felt the back of her neck itch as if they were talking about her.
She loaded up with chips, chocolate, and cookies. Decided she needed to at least pretend to be an adult and grabbed bread, cheese, and tea bags. Then she pulled a couple of steaks out of the freezer, picked out two large potatoes, and a bunch of sad-looking broccoli. The idea of preparing a meal appealed to her innate need for control. Brent didn’t want her here and she didn’t want to be here, but at least she could show some basic appreciation for him not throwing her out on her ear. And not raping and murdering her in her bed last night.
She gritted her teeth.
She was sick of being wary of men, of living with the weight of the past strapped around her neck like a giant anvil. All these years later and she was still trying to shake it loose. What would it take to finally move on? To be free of the past?
The guy behind the counter rang up her purchases. “Visiting friends?”
“Uh-huh.” She could see speculation in his eyes, but he didn’t venture any more questions. An older woman, hauling a shopping bag that looked far too heavy for her to handle, called out a good-bye to the guy. Anna eyed the wine section and figured she’d never be able to manage her purchases as it was, then grabbed a bottle anyway. She had all day to walk the half mile back to Brent’s house, and wine would help her get through the meal without succumbing to insanity. Anna counted out her cash and asked for a box to carry everything home.
She hefted her purchases and headed outside. Pretty houses were scattered along the inlet, backed by ubiquitous evergreen forest. Small boats were moored at a variety of jetties and docks of all shapes and sizes. A floatplane bobbed on the water, and a fancy cruiser chugged out of the inlet with a group of fishermen huddled on the deck, sporting big grins of excitement and anticipation. A dark wedge of rock above the water told her the tide was receding and with that came the fresh scent of seaweed—not unpleasant. Massive plate-size starfish glittered in rock crevices, and she could see shoals of tiny fish darting beneath the timbers of the dock.
This was a cute town for a short visit.
She rested her groceries on the railing to watch a seal pop its head out of the water and then disappear again. This is what her father had loved about this tiny community. This, and his best friend Brent.
Perhaps she was finally ready to admit that there was a tiny part of her that was actually jealous of their relationship. A small immature slice of her soul that wished she’d been as close to the man who’d raised her as his prison cellmate was. The fact that the gulf between them since he’d gotten out of prison had been her fault didn’t make it hurt any less.
Hot grief surged up inside and a warm knot formed in her throat. She’d avoided seeing him lately. Told him she was busy with work and canceled at the last moment when she’d been due to visit. Had she subconsciously been punishing him? Or had she just been terrified he’d finally figure out what had happened to her when he’d been locked up, and do something stupid that would get him thrown back in prison? Dark feelings tangled inside her. She should have talked to him. Should have spent more time with him.
Anna drew in a long breath and tried to let it go. Regret would get her nowhere. Her father was dead and she needed to figure out why.
The cry of a seagull drew her back to the scene in front of her. Across the water sat an impressive array of buildings in all shapes and sizes, including a scallop-shaped one that faced the sea.
“That’s the Bamfield Marine Science Center.”
Anna jolted. She hadn’t realized she had company. The older woman from the store stood stroking a small tabby.
Anna had to forcefully clear the frog in her throat to speak. “Looks impressive.”
“It is impressive.” The woman plopped her bag on the boardwalk, juggled a small bunch of tulips, and stuck out her hand to shake. “I’m Laura Prescott.”
Anna shook her hand quickly. A boat was motoring over from the other side of the inlet. She squinted. It was Brent. She eyed her heavy box and then leaned over the railing, putting two fingers in her mout
h to produce a sharp whistle to get his attention. When he looked up, she waved frantically. All eyes swung in her direction and she felt highly conspicuous.
“You know Brent Carver?” the woman, Laura, asked her.
“Yes. It was nice to meet you.” Anna winced as she hefted her box and walked down the narrow gangplank toward Brent, tying up against the dock. When she got down to the boat, he took her groceries with a frown.
“I’ve got plenty of food.” He eyed the massive bars of chocolate and smiled. It disturbed her. “Hop in and find a life jacket.” He picked up a large wrapped canvas. “I just need to mail something.” He loped up the gangplank and said something to the woman who’d been talking to her. To Anna’s surprise, Laura started down the gangplank and headed for the boat. Anna took her bag and helped her climb in.
“I never learn. Every single time I buy more than I can carry. I’ll be getting a car next, just for this side of the inlet.” The woman huffed as she settled herself onto one of the seats.
“You’re a friend of Brent’s?” Anna asked carefully. She couldn’t see him offering a ride to anyone who wasn’t.
Laura snorted. “Not exactly.” Her gentle smile turned cutthroat. “I’m his lawyer.”
Anna’s eyebrows rose. Brent was now banging loudly on the door of a small red building—the post office—beside the store. The guy leaning against the railing in the pale blue shirt said something to him. The exchange didn’t exactly look friendly.
“The old bat who runs the post office just locked the door because she saw Brent coming up the ramp. She wouldn’t know kindness or compassion if it bit her on the butt,” Laura muttered under her breath. At Anna’s confused look, she added, “Brent finds it hard to get served in the local shops. Mind you, he doesn’t exactly make it easy for himself. And Cyrus Kaine has a stick up his ass when it comes to my client.”
Anna guessed Cyrus Kaine was the guy in the blue shirt.
“He’s the Coast Guard captain.” Laura nudged Anna’s arm and the boat rocked. “Better hope we don’t sink, because Cyrus might not rescue us if we’re with Brent.” Her eyes shone with delighted amusement. “Although, he has an eye for a pretty girl so you’ll probably be all right.”
Dark Waters (2013) Page 6