Black Moon: Hamarsson and Dempsey 3

by Keaton, Elle

  “But how would Reynolds know anything? He’s almost ten years younger and he didn’t grow up here.”

  “No, but from what you’ve told me, he’s a creep. I’d bet my last dollar he made it his business to know everything he could about Piedras. He’d built the island community up in his mind as something he should have been a part of but that was denied him. If he befriended Mat’s older brother, who else did he approach? Who else might have inadvertently shared information, thinking Jeffrey was a kindred soul—or not knowing he was bent on some weird self-serving justice?”

  Niall had wondered that himself. A few people came to mind. Martin Reynolds was the first one—although, as an avowed QAnon supporter, he might not have been willing to give Jeffrey the time of day. Claribel Delacombe said she hadn’t known of Jeffrey’s existence, and Niall believed her. But there were plenty of others, including Chastity Reynolds, whom Jeffrey had strangled to death. Maybe Chastity had inadvertently shared information with Jeffrey? Niall hadn’t known her, had never met her, but from what he’d heard, it was likely she’d been a source of information for Jeffrey—up until he decided she needed to die.

  Fenrir bumped Niall’s forearm with his nose, not hard enough to spill his coffee but hard enough to let Niall know that he’d been patient long enough and it was time to go down to the beach.

  “Okay, okay,” Niall said to the dog. “I need to go,” he said to Leo.

  “I’ll text you when we have the details on Ethan and his team. Can you find somewhere for them to stay?”

  “How many?”

  “Three, maybe four.”

  Niall rolled his eyes. The team was going to have the same issue Ryder had had: fall was a popular time to visit the island. “Let me know the count, and then I’ll talk to Shay. He’s rented a huge house for the time being.”

  Fog had rolled in from the water. It floated just above the ground, covering the grass, rocks, and trees, making everyday things indistinct and amorphous. Niall had always been fascinated by fog. On the islands it could be clear at five in the morning, but by seven the fog would be so thick it was dangerous to drive.

  After he pulled on a thick sweater over his shirt and his rubber boots to keep his feet from getting wet, he and Fenrir traipsed down to the beach for their morning communion with nature. The water was glass-like underneath the fog; no ripples marred the surface. If the sun had been out, it would’ve been blinding.

  When he reached his favorite sitting-log, Niall pulled out his phone to see if Mat had replied to the text he’d sent. Nothing yet. Which meant whatever the sheriff’s office was dealing with required all his attention.

  While he kept his eye on Fenrir—making sure the wolfhound did not disappear into the woods to visit his find from the other day—Niall pulled up Shay’s number and pressed Call.

  “Morning, Niall, what’s up?” Niall heard the soft tones of classical music playing in the background.

  “I have a favor to ask. I know I owe you, big time.”

  “Things come in threes. I’m glad you feel comfortable asking.”

  Just as Niall sat down, a huge blue heron squawked and launched itself into the air from one of the Doug firs at the end of the beach. The tree’s branches swayed back and forth from the weight of the big bird as it disappeared into the mist.

  “Yeah, well. Leo Zelinsky is sending a crew up here to extract the remains, and since it’s a favor—even though he’s calling it training—I’d like to save WCF as much money as I can. Do you have room for three, or maybe four, guests? I’m sure they’ll reimburse you for any costs. I don’t know how long they’ll be here. Maybe a week, at the most ten days? I’d ask Soper, but he has Trevor and Caleb now.”

  “Sure,” Shay agreed easily. “My place has four bedrooms and an entertainment room—I can accommodate them. The other day I got turned around between the garage and the great room.”

  Niall chuckled. “Thank you, Shay. I want to get this taken care of.”

  “Anything on Cooper yet?”

  “Not yet, and Mat had an early call this morning.”

  “When it rains, it pours.” Shay hesitated a second before adding, “Do you want to grab lunch today? We can hide out at Lulu’s for a bit.”

  Niall rolled the offer around in his mind for a minute. “Sure, that sounds good. It’s probably a good idea to get out. Leo and I are both off field duty for another week, so I’ve got nothing better to do than interfere in Mat’s business.”

  They both laughed, but Niall knew Shay knew he was serious. The hardest thing—one of the hardest things—about being in a relationship with another cop was staying in his own lane. Mat didn’t need Niall’s help most of the time, and when he did, he was confident enough to ask for it.

  “Noon?” Shay suggested.

  It was kind of Shay to try to keep Niall out of trouble.

  Mat replied to the text while Niall and Shay were at lunch. He wasn’t very informative, just said that he was swamped, and on top of everything, he was meeting with the candidate he wanted to offer the open deputy position to. He’d be home when Niall heard his car coming down the driveway.

  Shay chuckled at Niall’s grimace. “Just one of the reasons I’ve never gotten involved. I was always getting ready for court, in court, or debriefing after court.”

  Niall was curious. He knew Shay was bi, but even when both of them had lived in Seattle, he’d never heard of him dating anyone seriously, female or male. Shay had a reputation as someone who had quick-and-dirty hookups with whoever caught his attention. “It’s not too late. Look at Mat and me.”

  “Sure, now that I’ve moved to an even smaller dating pool—and you snagged the eligible bachelor.” Shay took a bite of his burger, chewed, and swallowed before mumbling, “I’m happy enough single. Plus, I don’t have the stress of worrying about someone. I’m a free agent.”

  17

  Friday—Mat

  Mat and Birdy spent the rest of the morning interviewing the staff at Brooch. All seemed properly horrified and had nothing to offer. No one had seen, or heard, anything. Paul Prescott himself took them to see the few rooms that had not been slept in. Two were no-shows, and one was a room they didn’t like to reserve unless they were completely full, as it was located above the kitchen. Normally it was assigned to late arrivals, and there hadn’t been any the day before.

  It was in this last room that they found evidence of a struggle. Not only was the room over the kitchen, so noise was more likely to go unnoticed, it overlooked the employee parking lot and smoking area. Together, Mat and Birdy bundled up the sheets and stowed them in a large evidence bag. Somewhere he’d find money in the budget to have them processed. The perpetrator must’ve known about this particular room. Had he stayed in it? How else would he have known of its existence?

  He considered calling off his meeting with Soren Jorgensen, but, he reasoned, the sooner he got the man on board, the sooner the department wouldn’t feel stretched quite so thin. Because right now Mat was feeling like tissue paper.

  Just as he and Birdy arrived back at the station, Tom Bellows showed up. Mat had forgotten they’d asked him to come in to try to identify the man he’d seen with Cooper. They’d be bringing Sharleen in too, but after seeing her, Mat irrationally wanted to avoid it for a little while longer.

  “Dammit,” Mat muttered. He and Birdy were having a private meeting in the break room while Bellows waited at Birdy’s desk, and Jorgensen was supposed to be arriving any minute. “Do you feel comfortable using the composite software?” It wasn’t complicated, but Birdy hadn’t had much experience with it. They usually recognized perpetrators based on a description.

  “I’ll be fine, sir. I’ve completed the training modules.”

  “I’ll talk with Jorgensen back here for a few minutes. When we’re done, I’ll bring him out to meet you.”

  Deputy Radden interrupted them. “Sheriff? Raisa and Francine are in the interview room. I’m trying to sort out where to take them. Raisa refu
sed to be admitted to the hospital, and sir, she will only give her first name. I brought them here after Raisa was, um, finished. I know you wanted them kept safe, but I didn’t know where…”

  Mat groaned. The closest women’s shelter was in Anacortes. “Shit.”

  “What about the Spiritual Living Yoga Center? They might have a room available,” Birdy suggested.

  The center wasn’t a hotel or a shelter, but the owner had been known to house people in need before. It had several small rooms where families or individuals who’d experienced trauma—last time it was a house fire—could stay for a little while.

  “Radden, give them a call.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We’ll talk in the break room,” Mat said to Jorgensen when he arrived. “My apologies. We’re short of space today.”

  “It’s not a problem, sir.”

  “Still, I’m sorry. It’s been a busy day, and, as you know, we’re shorthanded.” Mat pushed the door open. “Take a seat where you’d like. This is just a formality, and I’d hoped you could meet the other deputies, though again—busy day. But first…” He leaned against the counter facing Jorgensen. “Let me be clear: I prefer Dempsey or Mat or even Sheriff over ‘sir.’”

  Jorgensen drawled, “Okay… Sheriff.”

  “Deputy Flynn insists on ‘sir.’ I think it’s just to get under my skin—but please, don’t you do it too.”

  “Does this mean you’re offering me the position?” Jorgensen leaned back and shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

  “It does. We wouldn’t have had you come all this way a second time if we didn’t think you’d be a good fit. I thought we could go over the offer and hopefully get some of the initial paperwork out of the way. What do you think? Do you want to join this backwater sheriff’s office?”

  “I do.” Jorgensen smiled. “I think it’s just the change I need. Please, call me Soren.”

  They spent a few more minutes going over a few things—including the salary.

  “I’d like to offer more,” Mat told him, “but this is what the council has authorized for now.”

  “When do I start?”

  “Yesterday, but for now, how about I introduce you to Deputy Flynn? Deputy Radden is taking care of some last-minute details from an incident this morning, Deputy Jones is off until later today, and Holstrom is on Orcas. As far as an actual starting date—as soon as you can get here.”

  They shook hands. Mat had a good feeling about Soren Jorgensen. Not only were his references impeccable, the man emanated strength and reliability. Birdy Flynn had the same qualities, and they were characteristics Mat wanted on his team. Plus, Jorgensen came with experience. Mat wouldn’t be training him from the ground up.

  Birdy was still with Bellows, but Mat walked Soren over to her desk anyway. At the rate getting a hold of evidence they could really use on the Cooper case was going, they’d still be working on it when Soren arrived for his first day of work.

  “Deputy Flynn, meet Soren Jorgensen, our newest deputy.”

  Birdy took in the big man with one glance. “Welcome aboard.”

  “Thank you.” Soren shook her hand. At that moment Radden opened the door to the room where Raisa and Francine had been waiting, and they followed him out into the bullpen. When Raisa walked past them, she pulled her sweatshirt hood up over her head, concealing her bright blonde hair. As she had that morning, Francine had one arm wrapped around her roommate, offering both physical and moral support. Mat was glad Raisa had someone with her. Now he just hoped he could bring her justice.

  “I need to get going,” Jorgensen said abruptly. “I don’t want to miss the ferry. I’ll let you know when I can start.”

  “Sure,” Mat agreed. “We’ll give you the tour when you return.”

  Mat watched Jorgensen leave the building and then turned to Birdy. “How’s it going?” he asked.

  “Mr. Bellows and I are trying to get a handle on what the man he saw at the marina might look like. I’m wondering what you think: anyone you recognize?” She pulled her screen around so Mat could see it better.

  The composite was, as they always were, a bit weird, the face not quite in proportion. The human eye wanted everything to fit like a finished jigsaw puzzle. The face on the screen had sharp, high cheekbones, a narrow nose, and a heavy brow. The top lip was narrower than the bottom one.

  Mat shook his head. It was no one he could immediately place, although it seemed fairly likely that whoever this was had stayed out of Mat’s orbit on the island. The longer he stared at it, the more he felt that he should know this person. Whatever it was about the image, though, it was too vague for him to put a finger on.

  “Can you make the upper lip a bit wider?” Bellows asked. “And make the hair longer—straight, and almost to the shoulders.” Biting the inside of his cheek, the dockmaster stared at the screen another second, then pointed at the screen and said, “Make the eyebrow shape a bit sharper—almost peaked in the middle, but thick.”

  As Birdy worked, Bellows kept looking at the screen, nodding slowly. “Now put a beard on him, a short one.” Birdy complied. “Yes,” Bellows exclaimed, “that’s him. That’s the man I saw.”

  Holy shit, Mat thought, their first real lead. All three of them stared at the new composite. The bullpen was quiet while they committed the face to memory.

  “Sir?”

  “Birdy?” He swung around to look at her.

  “If we take the beard off and shorten the hair again,” she proceeded to do so, then sat back and stared hard at her screen, “he could also be who the victim described this morning.”

  “Fuck.” She was right. When was Birdy wrong? Not often.

  “Send the composite to Radden’s phone. Have him show it to the victim and text us back. Then we need to get back out to Brooch and see if anyone there recognizes this guy. Shit, shit, shit.”

  By the time Birdy returned from escorting Bellows out, Mat had his answer: YES, was the reply from Deputy Radden.

  Mat had made a fresh pot of coffee—the good stuff—and Birdy had gone over to the bakery next door and picked up the last couple of doughnuts left before they closed for the day. Now Birdy sat next to his desk with Radden on speaker, calling from where he was settling Raisa and Francine in at the Spiritual Living Yoga Center.

  “We need to try to identify this guy.”

  “Sheriff, Raisa is scared to death,” Radden said, his voice raspy over the cell signal. “When I showed the picture to her, she said she didn’t recognize it, but she did. If she was scared before, after she saw that picture, she was terrified.”

  “Crap,” Mat muttered. Whoever this guy was, Mat wanted him behind bars. “The other girl, Francine, didn’t recognize him?”

  “She says no, but…”

  “Okay.” Mat nodded, his thoughts racing. “I want one of you keeping an eye on the center at all times. There’s no reason to think Raisa’s attacker knows where she is, but I don’t want him finding her if he’s looking. Patrick,” he asked, “do you think Raisa is here illegally?”

  “Maybe?” Patrick replied. “I wouldn’t be surprised. She’s definitely scared to talk, but I think she understands a lot more than she lets on. The other girl, Francine, refuses to leave her. Madeline Roux has them tucked in at the center. But… they’re not prisoners. They can leave, right? We can’t make them stay?”

  “Would you head down to the center and relieve Patrick?” Mat asked Birdy. “Keep an eye on the place, just in case. Dammit, I wish Raisa had agreed to stay at the hospital.” He sighed and continued, “See if either one of the women feels comfortable enough to talk to you. Tell Madeline as little as you can… although she’s smart, and I’m sure she’s figured out those two are in more trouble than we know. Radden, I know it’s been a long day, but go get some rest and relieve Flynn at midnight. I’m authorizing OT for this.”

  Birdy nodded and stood up, collecting her keys before heading out to the parking lot.

  18

/>   Friday–Saturday—Niall

  Niall was thinking about his lunchtime exchange with Shay when he finally heard Mat’s cruiser coming down the drive. His heartbeat sped up a bit in anticipation. It was hard to believe how much he’d changed since moving back to Piedras.

  Shay claimed he was fine alone, but having someone to go home to—or someone to come home to you—was one of the most powerful feelings Niall had experienced in his life. It meant he loved and was loved. Scary as shit.

  Maybe Shay had a point about being on his own. Some people really were happy that way. But there was no going back for Niall now.

  He and Fenrir greeted Mat at the door. Mat was tired—exhausted; Niall could tell by the lines on his face and the way he carried his body. But also, Niall knew that something had happened. “Was there a break in your case?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe? A girl was assaulted out at Brooch, and… I need to change out of these clothes first.”

  Niall followed Mat to their bedroom and leaned against the doorframe. He didn’t want to miss Mat getting naked.

  “Let’s talk about your day instead,” Mat said as he unbuttoned his uniform shirt.

  “It was fine. I talked to Leo—he wants to send a team up to check out the remains. And by ‘wants to’ I mean he is going to; I just don’t know when. Let’s see, what else? I had lunch with Shay at Lulu’s, and your mom dropped off another stack of wedding brochures.”

  “Jesus, I can’t even think about the wedding right now. But”—Mat kicked his pants aside and began to pull on a favorite pair of thick cotton sweatpants, leaving his chest bare for the moment—“I want it done. I want to be married to you already, dammit.”

  Niall crossed the distance between them, grabbing on to Mat’s hips and pulling him close. “I do too. I forgot one thing; Sage wants to perform a protection rite for us.” With one finger he traced the new scars on Mat’s chest. He was glad the scars were there, that he could touch them—it meant Mat was alive—but Niall could do without him getting blown up, shot, or stabbed again.