Black Moon: Hamarsson and Dempsey 3

by Keaton, Elle

  “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

  “I apologize for calling at the last minute, but I need to speak to Jeffrey Reynolds again.”

  “Are you bringing a bargain to the table?” she asked.

  “Maybe, but I haven’t run it through the DA. I need to talk to him, Jeffrey, first about who else might have been involved in his crime.”

  “He’s never indicated anyone else was involved—other than your brother. I’ll talk to him, but…” He heard the shrug in her voice. It was up to Jeffrey, but if he thought he might get a plea out of talking to them, Mat bet he would agree.

  “Sooner, rather than later.”

  “I’m not on the island, so it won’t be before tomorrow.”

  A thought struck Mat: Petyr/Lambert would likely know that Jeffrey Reynolds was being held at the Piedras County Justice Center. And, if Petyr was the cold-blooded killer the feds had painted him to be, he might very well want Jeffrey dead along with Cooper.

  “When you talk to him, ask him about the name Lambert,” Mat told her. “And make sure he knows Lambert is still on the island. I have a feeling he’ll be more willing to meet with me then.”

  Clicking off, he looked back at the agents. “Being on an island has its pluses and minuses,” he said. “I can’t get in to see Jeffrey Reynolds until tomorrow. There’s not much more we can do tonight.”

  “Tell us about Reynolds. How do you think he might fit into the picture? We might be able to arrange something.”

  The clock ticked past eight-thirty while Mat and Birdy rehashed what had been happening on the island since late winter. It was a little disconcerting to have the feds’ eyes concentrating on him.

  Agent Klay tapped the tabletop with his pen, the sound loud in the quiet room.

  Richardson suddenly asked, “Do you think Reynolds really knows something?”

  Klay looked up from his tapping. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking Petyr must be feeling off balance. The girl has disappeared, and he doesn’t know where to. His back is against the wall, he’s not thinking clearly, he’s maybe as close to panicking as he was when he managed to elude us last year. He’s felt safe here. Piedras wasn’t on our radar until recently. But now he’s feeling the pressure. And if this Reynolds person does know something or even pretends he knows something, he could also be on Petyr’s hit list.”

  “Yeah, okay, but we don’t actually know where Petyr is,” Klay countered.

  “I bet he’s been mostly on the Brooch Resort end of the island,” Mat offered. “I could be wrong, of course. But in addition to the LLC properties Ferreira mentioned, I’d expect him to choose that area because of its proximity to the Canadian border. Lots of unenforceable coastline.”

  They all looked at him. Mat cleared his throat and continued, “If he’s smuggling, well, that’s where I’d do it from. Hang on.”

  Out in the bullpen, Mat opened the bottom drawer of his desk and dug around to find an old paper map of the islands. He took it back into the room and lay it flat on the table so they all could see it.

  He dragged his finger along the shoreline north of Brooch Resort. “This is the area with unobstructed shoreline. The houses here are big and fancy, and more than one of them has deep-water moorage. If I was doing what Petyr is doing, this is where I’d want to be.”

  “Several of the properties we’ve been investigating seem to be right along there,” Richardson said after looking at his laptop again.

  “What do you want to do?” Mat asked. “I have a pretty small department, pretty limited in the scope of assistance we can offer.”

  “First we need to pin down locations a bit more,” Richardson said. “Where’s the house we’re staying in on this map?”

  Klay rattled off an address on Rhododendron Street.

  “That’s right smack in the middle of the area I’m talking about,” Mat said. “I’d check the properties here”—he moved his finger—“and along here. There’d be no reason for Petyr to have any inland property—unless he bought undeveloped land, and there’s none on the coastline.”

  Someone banged against the station’s front door. Birdy pushed away from the table to see who was outside and returned with two people. One was Niall, and the other was a woman Mat had heard about but never met. Duane Cooper’s ex-wife looked terrible. She hadn’t been sleeping well, if the bags under her eyes were any indication.

  “Mat—Sheriff Dempsey,” Niall corrected himself, “this is Bonnie Cooper. She has some information you’ll want to hear.”

  The room was far too small for all of them plus Niall and Mrs. Cooper.

  It was going to be a long night.

  “Agents Klay and Richardson, this is Niall Hamarsson. He’s with West Coast Forensics and also my partner. I’m going to step out of the room for a moment. Mrs. Cooper”—Mat took her elbow and led her to their interrogation room—“I’m going to have you wait in here for a few minutes. My apologies on the accommodations. I know they aren’t the best.”

  “Am I being held? Are there… charges against me?” she asked.

  “Mrs. Cooper,” Mat began, “we just want to ask a few questions. You certainly aren’t under arrest.” With skill that came from a lot of practice, he eased Bonnie Cooper into the room, pulling out a chair so she could sit down. “Can I bring you something to drink, water or coffee?”

  She shook her head.

  “Okay. Please wait here. Someone will be with you in just a minute.” Shutting the door, Mat headed toward the break room. He heard water running and suspected he’d find Niall there breaking into his coffee stash.

  “I’m mad at you,” Mat hissed when he came around the corner to, surprise, find Niall making a fresh pot of coffee.

  Niall sighed. “I figured. Kinda hoped it would have worn off in the past few hours, though.”

  “Oh, it has. This is me totally calmed down.”

  “Mmm.” Niall tossed out the old coffee filter, pulled out a new one, and reached up into the cabinet where Mat kept his special stash. He spooned fresh grounds into the machine and pressed the On button. Then he turned around and leaned back against the counter.

  It was Mat’s turn to sigh; he couldn’t stay mad at Niall for long when they were together. Like thirty seconds was the maximum.

  “I’m sure it’s bad form to kiss the shit out of you in the station, but it’s that or yell at you.” After scanning to make sure no stray FBI agents were wandering around, Mat closed the distance between them, grabbed Niall’s face, and planted a quick, hard kiss on his lips. Before Niall could properly respond, Mat stepped back, enjoying Niall’s bemused expression.

  “I definitely prefer that to being yelled at.”

  “Yeah, well,” Mat groused. He’d much rather kiss Niall than deal with a bunch of feds, a dead fugitive, and a possibly hostile witness.

  “So, what’s the situation?” Niall asked.

  Mat shook his head, not sure where to start. “I think we’re close—and we were right, everything is connected.” Quickly he shared with Niall what he’d learned in the past few hours.

  “They’re across the street from the place Shay rented,” Niall said. “I was over there just after noon. He’d seen these guys roll up and was totally suspicious of them. Which I find slightly amusing now. They came into Chester’s when I was there too.” He shrugged. “What else?”

  “What did you learn from the ex?” Mat wanted to know.

  “Well…” Niall grabbed a coffee mug. “You want some?”

  Mat nodded, and Niall poured for him too.

  “Bonnie Cooper is scared silly, or good at faking it. She was tossing suitcases in her car and ready to head for parts unknown when I stopped her. Duane sent her some kind of record a few months ago. She claims she hasn’t really looked at it. But I have it right here.” He tapped his pocket.

  “Do you believe her?” Mat asked, holding his hand out for the evidence.

  Niall grinned and handed over a small bl
ack book. “Six of one, half dozen of the other, really. If she has, she knows more than she’s saying. If she hasn’t, it’s likely Petyr thinks she has and wants her dead anyway.”

  “Do you think Cooper told him he kept records?” Mat took a sip of his coffee. This already-long day needed more caffeine.

  “Maybe as a last-ditch effort to try to keep Petyr from killing him?”

  Mat thought that was very likely. But if so, it clearly hadn’t worked.

  24

  Saturday—Niall

  “So, the big question: where is Petyr?” Niall asked, noticing how tired Mat looked, the lines on his forehead more pronounced. They were going to need more than a short vacation after this case was over. Maybe they needed to go someplace so far from Piedras no one would consider calling him.

  Mat shook his head. “We don’t know.”

  Mat’s desk phone rang. Niall couldn’t help but eye his ass as he strode over to answer it. The khaki uniform pants were pretty damn ugly, but Niall knew, firsthand, what was hidden underneath—and it was his.

  “Sheriff’s office, Sheriff Dempsey speaking.”

  The was silence while Mat listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. Then Mat began searching around his desk, grabbed a pen, and began jotting down information.

  “Are you safe? Stay where you are—wait in your car if you need to, and lock your doors. I, or one of my team, will be there in just a few minutes. Don’t call anyone else, okay?” Mat set the phone back on his desk.

  In three long strides, Niall was next to him. “What?”

  Mat looked at him. “That was Cody Prescott from Brooch Resort. He went to check on his uncle because he’d said he was sick and then wasn’t answering calls. He’s dead.”

  “Dammit, where?” Niall asked.

  “His house is on Azalea Street.”

  “That’s one street over from Shay’s.”

  Mat crossed the bullpen and opened the door to the interview room housing the FBI team. “We’ve got a situation.”

  The feds immediately spilled out of the room. Niall would’ve thought it was funny, except someone was dead and a killer was on the loose.

  “What’s going on?” the agent who was obviously in charge demanded.

  Mat and the agents would be heading to Paul Prescott’s in minutes, and Niall knew he wouldn’t be invited along. That didn’t mean he was just going to wait at the station; that’s not who he was. He thought for a second. The feds had the authority to close the tiny Piedras airport and the public moorages, but there was a shit ton of shoreline Franjo Petyr could disappear from—though possibly not right away. The ride in on the ferry had been bumpy, and there was a small craft warning through the next morning. Haro Strait in a storm was a death sentence. He punched in Shay’s number and impatiently waited for him to answer.

  “Hello?” Shay sounded sleepy, as if Niall had woken him up, or maybe, he’d been reading or watching TV.

  “Shay, it’s Niall.”

  “What’s up?” Shay was probably wondering why Niall was calling when they’d seen each other earlier that day. They were becoming friends, but not the kind that called every night to tuck each other into bed.

  “Remember the folks who moved in next door?” Niall asked.

  “Yeah. They took off a few hours ago. The garage door opened up, and they raced out of there. I thought maybe they’d changed their minds and were trying to get the last ferry.”

  “Yeah…” Niall glanced across the bullpen to where Mat and the agents were talking. “Look, Shay,” he said quietly, “they’re feds, and the shit is about to hit the fan. A perp Mat’s been looking for—and it turns out the feds are too—he may be in your neighborhood.”

  “Do you know what this guy looks like?”

  Feeling only slightly guilty, Niall snapped a picture of the composite drawing lying on Mat’s desk and sent it to Shay.

  “Just sent a picture. Not sure how close it is, but we’re pretty sure this is the guy. If you see him, do not make contact with him. He is likely armed and highly dangerous.” There was a pause. Niall presumed Shay was looking at the photo he’d sent.

  “He looks familiar, but I can’t place him.”

  “Well, he seems to have been on the island for a little while. Maybe not going to community events, but he’s been around.”

  Niall couldn’t stand the tension of inaction.

  “I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling. I’m coming over.”

  “Christ, Niall, I don’t need you to babysit me.”

  “It’s not babysitting. I protect my family. Mat’s busy with the feds; he’s going to be working all night.”

  “Family, huh?”

  “Family.”

  “Fine. I’ll make more popcorn, and we can stream a lousy cop show.”

  “No way. I want to watch a legal thriller.”

  “We’ll argue about it when you get here.”

  Niall felt in his pockets for his car keys and pulled up as he was heading for the door, realizing one problem with his plan. “Wait,” he said to Shay. “I left my car in Anacortes—long story. Do you mind picking me up?”

  Shay grumbled and muttered something about being “perfectly comfortable” but agreed to come and get Niall.

  “Thanks, man. I’ll be waiting outside.”

  Niall clicked off and shoved his phone back into his pocket. Not wanting to interfere—well, that was an outright lie; he did want to, but even he knew better than to mess with the feds—Niall sidled over to where Mat was getting ready to leave, talking to the fed with the red hair, and tapped him on the shoulder.

  “I’m taking off.” Mat frowned at him, but he was too wrapped up in the situation to ask any questions; for instance, “Where are you going?” Niall would let Mat think he’d headed back to the yurt. That Rockford Files joke Mat had made earlier was hitting a little too close to home.

  “So, does Mat know what you’re up to?” Shay asked in an irritatingly knowing tone.

  “Know what?” Niall asked, attempting innocence. He’d never been a good liar.

  Shay rolled his eyes at Niall before taking a right out of the station parking lot and heading up the hill. “All right. How about this, then: what’s going on?”

  “You mean what did I learn that I wasn’t supposed to? Not much. Some asshole named Franjo Petyr is hiding out on the island, and he is a piece of work. It’s likely that Duane Cooper and he were partners. Or maybe the guy learned what Cooper was doing and demanded a piece of the business.”

  “Huh.”

  “Yeah. Among other things, Petyr is a human trafficker.”

  Shay made a noise in his throat that Niall interpreted as him wanting to kill Petyr with his bare hands. He knew exactly how Shay felt.

  Shay finally managed, “Do you think Cooper was too, or knew that Petyr was?”

  Niall shrugged, even though Shay couldn’t see him. They’d left Hidden Harbor behind, and Shay was navigating the dark road, his headlights illuminating the trees and shrubs along the roadway. Niall usually liked driving in the dark, but now it just seemed like there were too many places for Petyr to hide. “I didn’t know Cooper at all. I talked to his widow tonight, though. That’s what I was doing in Anacortes.”

  “Yeah?”

  “She admitted she kept the books for Duane. He’d send her the money, and she kept track of it. He sent her some kind of record book last spring—she claims she doesn’t know what it is. But I think it must be the reason Petyr is still on the island. Maybe he didn’t know Cooper had managed to send it before he was forced into hiding.”

  “What kind of records do you think they are?”

  “I really don’t know, but if Petyr has stuck around looking for it, it must be important. It’s probably dates, names, maybe coordinates. That sort of thing. Something that would implicate him. Cooper probably thought it would keep him alive.”

  “And yet… he’s dead.”

  “Yep.”

  Niall che
cked his phone again; it was just past nine.

  “Do you mind stopping at Alyson’s so I can pick up Fenrir?”

  “No problem,” Shay agreed easily.

  Niall quietly let himself into the Dempsey family home. Fenrir popped up from his dog bed and gamboled over to him, shoving his head against Niall’s thigh in a hello.

  “Did you miss me today?” Niall scratched right between Fenrir’s ears, where he liked it best. “Alyson, I’m stealing my dog back!”

  He could hear the splashing noises of Riley’s bath time coming from down the hallway. “Okay, see you later,” Alyson called. “Maybe you and Mat could come to dinner this weekend?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Niall let Fenrir out, locking the door behind himself. He opened the back door of Shay’s car, and Fenrir gave him a “Whose car is this?” look before jumping inside.

  They passed through Killegen’s Point. It was quiet, the stores locked up for the night, even Chester’s. Everything except the twenty-four-hour laundromat. Through the window, Niall saw a shadowy figure bent over one of the washing machines. The wind was gusting hard now. The trees lining the road danced wildly overhead, and downed branches already dotted the pavement like small offerings.

  Shay broke the silence. “Where do you think he is? Where would you hide, if it was you?”

  More trees and shrubs slid by. Red eyes glowed at them from the bushes: a raccoon, or maybe a coyote. Niall pondered Shay’s question. Where would Petyr hide? He had to suspect that Paul Prescott’s body had been discovered, that the police were on their way there right now or would be soon enough.

  “If I were him,” Niall said slowly, “I’d hide around Brooch and try to get away by boat as soon as it’s light enough or, I guess, when the wind dies down.”

  “There are Customs officials at Brooch,” Shay pointed out. “That would be pretty ballsy.”

  Niall nodded his agreement. “Ballsy for sure.”

  “Why wouldn’t he try to get out tonight?”

  “He’d have to be pretty desperate to drive a boat at night around here, even without the wind and especially with no spotter. I’m assuming he’s on his own now, that he doesn’t have anyone left to kill—except Bonnie Cooper. Before I called you, Mat got a call—Paul Prescott’s nephew found him dead.”