by Keaton, Elle
Duane Cooper, on the other hand… his death was something Niall was not going to ignore. It had been five days since he’d been found, and if Mat had any leads, he hadn’t told Niall. There was something obvious they were missing, and Niall wanted to talk to Cooper’s ex-wife.
Likely Mat would be pissed off, but Niall was going to do it anyway. The whole Cooper thing bothered him. Why hadn’t he fled Piedras after the bombing? Why had he stuck around and gotten himself murdered?
Cooper had been through a divorce and, from what Mat and Birdy said, owed alimony forever, but he’d been able to afford several boats and the upkeep that went along with them. He’d still owned a house, even if it was small. Niall wanted to talk to the ex–Mrs. Cooper and maybe Sharleen Dixon. The ex lived in Anacortes, but Mat had said something about her taking charge of Cooper’s remains. He shook his head. That wasn’t the action of a bitter spouse, that was the behavior of a grieving widow.
The man and woman exited Chester’s side by side, not speaking but with serious expressions on their faces. In tandem they opened the doors to the SUV and climbed in. Seconds later, the Expedition pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the road toward Hidden Harbor.
Niall tried calling Mat, but it went directly to voicemail. He clicked off without leaving a message, then tried a different number.
“Soper here.”
“Marshal, Niall. Has Cooper’s ex picked up his remains yet?”
“No…” Marshal sounded a bit confused, which, since it was Niall and not Mat calling, he should. “I talked to her a couple days ago. She’s arranged for them to be picked up tomorrow.”
Huh. He did not like this.
Niall checked the clock on the dashboard. It was just before two. If he sped and was lucky with the ferry, he could be in Anacortes around three-thirty. He tossed off a request to Sol and her horses Árvakr and Alsviõr that the journey would in fact be swift—and that he would return to Piedras quickly with information that would put this case to rest.
19
Saturday—Mat
Before heading to the station, Mat drove out to Brooch to talk to Paul Prescott and show him the composite. When he arrived, though, it was Cody Prescott at the reception desk checking out guests, and the elder Prescott was nowhere in sight.
Mat waited while Cody helped an older couple who kept telling him how wonderful the resort was, that this was their fortieth wedding anniversary and Brooch Resort had made it so special. Cody kept glancing at Mat as he swiped their credit card for the final bill and called a… bellhop, Mat supposed, to come and help them get their luggage into the car.
From that interaction alone, Mat could tell that the younger Prescott enjoyed his job and the resort.
“I’d like to speak to Paul Prescott,” Mat said, once Cody was free. “Is he your father?”
“He’s my uncle.”
“Your dad didn’t stay in the business?”
“My mother,” Cody said wryly. “When she decided to move to Mexico, she left me with Uncle Paul.” He shrugged. “Anyway, he’s out sick today. What did you need with him?”
“He seemed okay yesterday.”
“I think having the police out here really shook him up. Is there anything I can help you with?”
Mat pulled out the printout and unfolded it. “Do you recognize this man?”
Mat watched as Cody peered at the computer drawing.
“I’m not sure? I don’t necessarily see everyone who comes to the resort. Maybe it’s someone who visits but doesn’t get a room. You know, likes to hang out at the bar or chat with the boaters. Could be a boater himself… but even then, I’d think I’d recognize him.”
Mat nodded. “Thanks. When your uncle feels better, please have him call me.” Putting the picture away, he pulled out his wallet and passed Cody a business card. “Here’s my number in case you remember anything or your uncle comes in.”
Mat started to leave but stopped, deciding he’d try one more angle. “I’m curious,” he said. “Has anything seemed odd here lately? Have you had a lot of staff turnover? Is there, maybe, an incident that stands out to you?”
Cody looked thoughtful. “The hotel business is weird. All these different personalities, strangers, coming together, and we are expected to please all of them. Yes, we tend to attract a certain demographic, but there are differing personalities among them.”
“But nothing recently that really struck you?”
“Well…” Cody lowered his voice. “What happened to that girl was terrible. Nothing like that has happened before—I mean, as far as I know.”
“How long have you been working here?”
“This is my second high season. I worked part time, though, until I got my degree.”
“Thank you,” Mat said. “And do call if you think of anything.”
Cody Prescott, Mat thought, was telling the truth. He hadn’t recognized the man in the printout. Maybe Cody was right and he was someone who just came by for drinks, or maybe it had been a random attack. But Paul Prescott suddenly being sick worried him. He turned the key in the cruiser’s ignition and drove out of the parking lot.
The multiple shades of gray that currently made up Chester’s Grocery-Mart caught Mat’s attention. It occurred to him that Sage saw a lot of people on the island, especially weekenders and seasonal folks who only came for the summer.
“Morning, Sage.”
“Morning, Sheriff,” Sage greeted him cheerily from behind the cash register. She was kneeling down organizing something, not currently helping a customer. Another employee had his back to Mat and was restocking produce.
“How are things?”
Sage stood up and faced him, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s been a busy morning already, and one of my part-timers started classes again, so I’m shorthanded. But business will die down soon enough. I shouldn’t complain about being busy.”
Mat walked over to the bagging area at the end of the cash wrap, pulled the now-wrinkled paper from his pocket, and showed it to her. “Do you recognize this man?” he asked.
She peered at the image for a long minute before looking back up at Mat. “I think so? I don’t know his name, but he’s stopped in once or twice. Funny…”
“What?”
“This is the second time recently I’ve been asked if I recognize someone. The first time it was a girl, though.”
A mix of excitement and fear shot through Mat’s chest. “What girl?” he asked, a tingle in his belly, knowing before Sage answered it would be Raisa.
“I’d never seen her before.”
“How did they describe her? Who was asking?”
“It was a man and a woman I’ve never seen before. They had a head shot of her and didn’t tell me her name. She had light hair, maybe blonde, and was in her late teens or early twenties. The man claimed she was his sister, but”—Sage snorted—“maybe adopted sister. They looked nothing alike.”
Shit, shit, shit. What the hell was happening on his island? “If they come in again or anyone is asking questions like that, would you give me a call?”
“Of course. What’s going on, Sheriff?”
“I don’t know, but I’m damn well going to get to the bottom of it.”
When he arrived at the station, he first checked in on the two girls. Maddie assured him they were fine and in the room she’d made up for them.
“What’s going on, Sheriff?”
“I don’t know.”
“Same ‘I don’t know’ that had a sheriff’s department vehicle parked behind the building all night?”
“Yes, and I’m keeping it there as long as I can. Thanks for doing this, Maddie.”
“Anytime. Although, this kind of thing—I’d rather have less of it.”
“Me too. Me too.”
Next, Mat and Birdy spent a few hours going to the businesses in town and showing the printout to people. No one seemed to recognize the man. Mrs. Tenny said maybe she did, but Mat pretty much thought
she just wanted the notoriety—things were starting to die down after her discovery of Cooper’s body. There were a few folks who thought maybe they’d seen him, and Mat tended to believe them, but they had no name, no other information. And, of course, a few places were closed. Mat marked them down to return to later.
Whoever the man was, it seemed likely he’d managed to go relatively unnoticed. If he was a visitor, he could have come by ferry, plane, or private boat. Mat was going to need to request the ferry terminal’s video feed—but they didn’t even have a date. They could be looking at months of feed, and something told him he didn’t have that kind of time.
“Let’s get back to the station,” he said to Birdy. “You stay there and take any calls that may come in. Who knows, maybe someone we talked to was afraid to say anything but will call later.”
“Yes, sir.”
“When Deputy Jones gets in, have him relieve Radden.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Radden can take the night shift again, but if we don’t get anyone in the next few days, we’re not going to be able to keep this up, as much as I want to make sure they’re safe.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Have we heard from Jorgensen yet?” Mat was anxious to get his new deputy on the schedule so his team could get a decent night’s sleep.
“No. I’ll let you know, sir.”
“Sheriff or Mat,” he reminded his favorite deputy.
At his desk, Mat powered up his desktop. Then he pulled out the legal pad with the list he and Niall had put together the other night.
Bellows had identified this man as the one he’d seen with Cooper. Patrick thought Raisa recognized him too, but she denied it. Raisa was likely in the United States illegally.
He tapped the pad with his pen, then added, “Unsub = Cooper’s murderer.”
It felt right, like when you found the puzzle piece that made the remaining bits practically fall into place. The pieces weren’t quite falling into place yet, but they were getting close. Mat needed to figure out the connection between the unsub and Cooper, and who the mystery man was. That meant querying other agencies—and, regardless of what happened on TV, it was not lightning fast.
20
Saturday—Niall
Niall sped along the roadway, keeping an eye out for slower vehicles. Of course, when you drove a twenty-year old Subaru, “speeding” was relative. He was pushing it at fifty-five, which was only five miles over the limit, but he needed to make the ferry. Niall couldn’t help but think if it wasn’t Cooper who blew up Mat’s cruiser, it had to be whoever had killed him—and if guy was still in the area, he might be starting to feel trapped.
Trapped animals were dangerous and would do anything to survive. But… why would he stick around? The only plausible reason Niall could come up with was that there was something the killer needed, otherwise he would’ve disappeared by now.
One of the multitude of reasons Niall hadn’t had a regular partner during most of his time as a homicide investigator was a failure to communicate. Human resources had practically had it stamped on every page of his file.
Niall called it acting first and asking permission later. His childhood had taught him to listen to his instincts: to act, not to wait. Waiting got a person killed. If he was wrong, it was worth a slap on the hand—and he wasn’t often wrong.
Therefore, if the ex–Mrs. Cooper was available to talk to, he was going to do it. He couldn’t explain it, but he had a bad feeling and he wasn’t going to ignore it.
When he arrived in Hidden Harbor, the ferry was just loading passengers. The line to board was fairly long, but he calculated he’d make it aboard. By some sort of luck, he managed to be the last car to board. He winced as he passed the sheriff’s office, but he shoved his misgivings aside. Once Niall was parked on the deck but before they pulled away from the dock and he’d have no service, he called Ryder Mann.
“I don’t have much time; I’m going to lose the signal—I’m heading to Anacortes. While I’m sailing, can you find everything you can about Duane Cooper—recently deceased—and his ex-wife? Shit, I don’t even know her name, but she’s the one I’m most interested in. But Cooper was a marine deputy out here for years.”
“Uh, sure?”
Crap, Ryder was probably in the middle of something else.
“I should’ve asked, do you have the time? I know it’s Saturday and an odd request.”
“No, I can, shouldn’t take long. I’ll send what I find to your email. For this quick a turnaround, it will be pretty basic.”
“That’s fine. Just flag anything odd.”
“Gotcha.”
For the first time since Niall had moved back to Piedras, the slow pace of island life grated on his nerves. Instead of enjoying watching the islands slide by and wondering if they might see the J pod orcas swimming in the water, he wanted to be in Anacortes already.
Duane Cooper had been murdered a week ago. A long week for his killer to think and maybe realize he’d made a mistake, that by killing Duane he’d opened up a can of worms he hadn’t known existed.
After what felt like hours but was only ninety minutes, Anacortes appeared in the distance. Niall’s phone buzzed and vibrated as messages loaded. Luckily, there were none from Mat—what would Niall say if he called, anyway?
The email from Ryder was encrypted. Niall signed in, downloaded the file, and spent the last few minutes before the ferry docked reading it over. There were some interesting things about the ex–Mrs. Cooper he was certain Mat would like to know.
Guilt, a feeling Niall wasn’t accustomed to, flooded him. He pushed it aside. He’d deal with Mat later. He had about two hours before the next ferry back to Hidden Harbor; he might as well use them wisely.
Cooper’s ex-wife, Bonnie, lived near Alexander Beach, which, Ryder had noted, had a lot of high-end real estate. She paid her taxes on time and had money in the bank. She was self-employed as a bookkeeper, but that wouldn’t account for her address or bank balance. Ryder had sent along the divorce settlement, and it wasn’t much. The amount might hurt Duane financially, because as a marine deputy he didn’t make money hand over fist, but still… where did Bonnie’s money come from?
Niall had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer… and that the money in Bonnie’s accounts was the reason Duane was no longer walking in this world. Even if the money wasn’t the direct reason, it was reason enough.
The address Ryder had sent him to was a one-story ranch-style house built in the 1960s or ’70s, Niall thought, and well maintained—as in freshly painted white with atrocious aqua trim. A gold, late-model Lexus SUV sat in the carport. Leaves from the maple trees that bracketed the house had blown across the driveway and underneath the car. It didn’t seem like the car had been driven anywhere for a while.
The street the house was on was extra wide, like city builders had had a bit of space left over and didn’t know what to do with it, so they’d added it to the road. The road also ran along the bay. All the houses here had incredible views and had to be pricey.
Niall eased himself out of the Subaru and shut the door. The street was quiet, and the sound seemed very loud. His was, he noticed, the only car parked on the street; everyone else used their driveways. Colorful leaves skittered down the street and sidewalk as the wind picked up; the fall storm the forecasters were predicting had arrived.
Duane’s ex-wife must have seen him park; the door opened before he could knock.
“Bonnie Cooper?”
Mrs. Cooper was in her midfifties, probably five foot six, curvy, with gray-streaked auburn hair. She was wearing yoga pants and a white cable sweater that reached to midthigh. She looked tired, or scared. Maybe both. “Yes?”
“My name is Niall Hamarsson. I’m from West Coast Forensics.” He showed her his badge before slipping it back into his pocket. “I have a few questions about your husband.”
“I’m sorry—who are you?” She didn’t automatically let him inside. On th
e one hand, he was glad she was questioning him. She shouldn’t just allow random strangers inside her home. On the other, he didn’t want to keep standing on the stoop.
“I’m with WCF. We’re an investigative agency that assists smaller police and sheriff’s departments in investigating cases.” Oh boy, there was truth and there was him stretching it to the very limit.
“And?”
“And we have some questions about the death of your husband.”
“Ex-husband.” She’d remembered to correct him this time.
“May I come in?”
This time she stepped back to let Niall in. Like the outside, the inside of the house was sparkling and beautifully maintained. She led Niall into the living room, which had an enormous plate glass window that presumably looked out over Rosario Strait with a view of Lopez Island off in the distance—but since the shades were drawn, Niall couldn’t see anything.
She gestured for him to sit in an overstuffed chair in front of the windows before sitting on the matching couch opposite him and clasping her hands together in her lap. “I should offer you something to drink.”
“No, that’s fine, I’m not thirsty.”
“What do you want to know? We were divorced for many years.”
“What was your relationship with your husband?”
“As I said, we were divorced for many years.”
“You did, but it’s not unusual for divorced couples to remain friendly or at least talk to each other. I’m wondering if you knew anything about Duane’s business dealings.”
Her hazel eyes widened, but she shook her head. “No, I wasn’t involved in anything.”
“But he paid you alimony, correct?” Niall steered away from her fear of Duane’s business, coming at it from a different direction.