“Not lately,” Jim agreed, rising and tromping after the other guys as Heath led them down the hall to the conference room.
The men had been updated as the events involving Trevor’s reappearance and the attacks on Tracie had unfolded, so Heath didn’t need to fill them in. “I’m trying to sort out a motive here,” he began, hoping to segue into Tracie’s family history, but John interrupted him.
“Trevor’s motive for attacking Tracie?” John clarified, then offered. “Trevor’s had a thing for Tracie at least since high school. She was one of those girls who never seemed to realize guys thought she was beautiful. She was oblivious to Trevor’s existence, and he hated that. When he came back to Bayfield, he immediately did everything he could to get close to her. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. Still won’t, obviously.”
Heath looked at the other men to see if they had anything to add. Both nodded, affirming John’s words. Apparently they, too, had come to grips with the reality that Trevor hadn’t died.
“But do you think that’s everything? Tracie was telling me the other day that her father died in the line of duty fourteen years ago.”
“Has it been that long already?” Jim ran a hand back through his thinning hair and gave a low whistle. “I must be getting old.”
“So you worked here when Malcolm Crandall died?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know anything about how it happened?”
Jim looked back and forth between the two other, younger men. “You guys know any of this story?”
“I would have been in high school then,” John offered.
“I’d just joined the Coast Guard, but I was stationed over in Duluth,” Mack supplied.
“Okay,” Jim sighed. “Well, it’s all a little sketchy in my head. There was a submarine in the lake. Now, I’ve been around these parts all my life and never seen such a thing, but I hear some of those salvage ops run submersibles down. Whatever, that’s their business.” He paused. “What do you think this has to do with Trevor going after Tracie, anyway?”
Heath let out the breath he’d been holding. “I don’t know. Too many things don’t add up, and I figure any lead is worth pursuing.” He let a look of challenge rise to his eyes as he looked each man in the face in turn. “Don’t you think so?”
“Sure,” Mack said, shifting in his seat. “Leave no stone unturned, and all that.”
“Okay, well,” Jim continued, “we got this call for help, a submarine run aground on the northern tip of the Devil’s Island shoals—that’s a shallow spot near Devil’s Island. The men had air and all, but they couldn’t leave the ship or they’d have drowned or died of hypothermia, whichever got them first. We’re not really set up for that kind of gig, but Malcolm, he always loved a challenge, couldn’t stand the thought of those men dying down there, so he said he’d make a dive and bring them up.
“Of course, by the time he got it all set up, the weather was going bad on him. He took a crew out. I was one of them. Most of us guys stayed on the boat, but Malcolm, he and Struck went down on a line. After bit, Struck comes up with these two men, said Malcolm was still down there helping the other two get suited up, should be right behind him. So we waited.
“The storm got worse. I don’t like being out on the Gitchee Gumee in bad weather. Didn’t like it then, like it even less now. After bit, up come these other two guys, saying Crandall’s right behind them. So we stayed. And we waited. And when he never came up, Struck went back down.
“I thought we’d lost them both. I really did. Thought the rest of us might be goners, too, with that storm tossing us all over the place. But sure enough, Struck, he pulled Malcolm up out of the lake. He was dead by then, and there was nothing any of us could do to bring him back, but don’t think we didn’t try.” Jim settled back in his chair, his story finished.
Heath was fairly certain he knew the answer to his next question, but he had to ask. “So the guy who brought up his body, Struck. That’s…”
“Oh, sorry. Guess nobody uses his old nickname anymore. Jake Struckman. He was Malcolm’s partner.” Jim nodded. “Yeah, most people don’t know this, but Malcolm Crandall would have been the Officer in Charge at Bayfield if he’d lived. Jake was next in line.”
Trevor pushed the tip of the gun hard against the base of Tracie’s skull. “Don’t even think about trying anything.”
Tracie could hardly think at all. Her heart pounded in her ears as she turned the key with trembling hands, put the car in reverse, and backed slowly down her driveway as Trevor had instructed. She could have kicked herself for not checking her car before she got in. It had never occurred to her that Trevor might be waiting for her in her car.
“We’re going to take a little drive.” Trevor’s words barely registered. “Head for Red Cliff.”
Tracie barely blinked, didn’t respond, not even so much as a twitch of a nod, but she obediently pointed her car toward the Red Cliff Reservation. Her heart rose to her throat. He was going to kill her. She was sure of it. He might even get away with it, too. The unique laws that governed the reservation would no doubt hamper any investigation of her death—and that would be if anyone was able to guess he’d taken her to the reservation at all.
“Stay on the back roads.” He jammed the tip of the gun harder against her head when she hesitated at the next corner.
Obediently turning in the direction he’d indicated, she frantically tried to think of a way out. She didn’t dare attempt to make a run for it. Trevor was an expert marksman. He’d hit her before she made it out the door. And his position in the back seat left her no opportunity to try her self-defense skills, even if she’d have been able to summon the presence of mind to use them. No, her only shot would be to talk to him. One thought came to mind.
“Why did you kill your brother?”
“He was a little snitch, going to rat me out. Besides, he was only my half brother. My mom cheated. He’s the reason my dad went away to the war, and the reason he never came back. I didn’t want a brother, and I never liked him. You, however,” he stroked the back of her neck with the cold tip of his gun, “I always liked. A lot. It’s funny. I always pictured the two of us getting along very well, kind of like you and your new partner.” He pressed the gun hard against her soft flesh, emphasizing his words in a manner that would probably leave bruises—if she lived long enough for bruises to form there.
Tracie tried to stay on the offense. “So your father faked his own death and changed his name because your mother cheated?”
The angry push of the gun against her neck told her Trevor didn’t like her asking questions. But he couldn’t resist answering—if Tracie knew him as well as she thought she did, his pride was too strong for him to pass up an opportunity to boast. His favorite subject had always been himself.
“My dad got a better offer. He’s a millionaire many times over because he faked his death. And he’s taught me everything he knows. You can’t prosecute a dead man. See, as long as everyone thinks I’m dead, I can change my name and live the life I’ve always wanted, with everything I’ve ever wanted. Including you.”
“M-me?” Tracie couldn’t keep the nervous stammer from her voice. A bead of sweat ran down her forehead into her eyes. She blinked it away, convinced if she so much as removed one hand from the wheel, Trevor would end her life on the spot.
“Of course, you. The beautiful Tracie. At first I wanted to kill you. But when you wouldn’t die, I thought of a better idea. I want what should have been mine all along. I want you. And I’m going to get you, too. Some friends of mine are throwing a little party tomorrow night. You’re going to attend.”
“Why should I?”
“Because if you don’t, I’ll kill you.” He laughed. “See, I’ve got nothing to lose. I was going to kill you anyway. If you want to live, you have to do what I say. Besides, you can’t resist, can you? It’s the only way you’ll get all the answers you’ve been looking for.”
Tracie was pretty sure s
he knew most of the answers already. Trevor and his father were behind everything. “I don’t need any more answers,” she told him, wishing her voice would stop trembling.
Again, Trevor laughed. “Oh, you don’t, do you? I thought you’d like to meet the man who killed your father.”
For a moment, Tracie wasn’t sure she could keep the car on the road. She fought to swallow back the anguished scream that rose in her throat. So her father had been murdered. She blinked back the thought and focused on her driving. They’d reached the edge of the reservation already. She schooled her voice into something remotely casual. She didn’t want him to know how much his words had affected her. “Where are we headed?”
“The marina.” The gun at her neck didn’t waver. “That’s where my ride is waiting for me.”
It was getting a little late in the season to have a boat out on Lake Superior. The freezing temperatures they’d been experiencing had already begun to ice over some of the more sheltered portions of the lake’s surface. Soon the icy patches would grow and spread into the lake, slowly overcoming the warmer mass of lake water, cooling and hardening it.
“Pull over,” Trevor instructed her as her car neared the pier. “Park.”
She followed his commands, her palms sweaty from fear.
“There’s another question you haven’t even thought to ask, and I’ll give you the answer right now. Who is Heath Gerlach?”
“Heath?” Tracie echoed dumbly. She wanted to keep Trevor talking, but his revelations, on top of her fear, muddled her thinking.
“Of course, Heath,” Trevor snapped. “Do you like him?” he asked in a menacing voice as he ran the tip of the gun up and down her neck. “You love him, don’t you Tracie?” He chuckled. “If so, maybe I’ll let you see him again. Maybe I’ll let you watch me destroy him, slowly and painfully.”
Tracie clenched her hands around the steering wheel. She had to warn Heath. But first, she had to get away from Trevor. She prayed God would give her a way out.
Trevor chuckled to himself. “Heath Gerlach is not who you think he is. He works for the FBI. Ask him about it. He’s investigating you for your role in the smuggling ring. That’s why he wanted to get so close to you. It’s not because he cares for you. He’s just been using you so he could find out what you knew. But don’t worry, we’ll get even with him.” Trevor leaned back and stretched. “I’m in the mood to kill someone.”
Tracie braced herself for the end.
But instead of a bullet, she felt him press a paper into her hand, which was still clutched tightly to the steering wheel.
“Here’s your invitation to the party. Dress pretty—it’s a formal affair, and I want to have the most gorgeous date there.” He opened the back door. “I’m going to leave you now. Don’t try anything. My guys have their guns trained on you as we speak, and I’d hate for them to ruin your beautiful figure before the ball.” He stood. “Good night, Tracie,” he said in a hard voice just before he slammed the door shut.
Tracie watched through the windshield as Trevor strode toward the pier. In the fading sunlight, she could just make out the hulking, domed form of a submarine, its jagged mast piercing the night sky. Trevor walked out onto the craft and stepped down through the hatch, closing it after himself. Then the whole thing slowly sank in the water as it backed away from the pier into the depths of the great lake.
Tracie slumped her head against the steering wheel, her body trembling, her mind spinning. Her father had been murdered, and Trevor was buddies with whoever had done it. He wanted her to come to his party and meet the guy.
Worst of all, Heath had betrayed her. Her heart clenched at the thought. She’d trusted him. No, worse than that, she’d fallen in love with him. But it had all been a lie all along.
Something in her heart cried out, refusing to believe Heath had truly deceived her. Perhaps Trevor had made it up. She had to believe Heath over Trevor. Choking on her hope, she threw the car into gear and peeled out, sniffing back tears as she tried to level her thoughts. She’d find him. She’d ask him. He’d tell her Trevor had been lying. He had to.
She drove back to town, fighting back tears so hard she could barely keep her grip on the steering wheel.
Just as she’d figured, Heath’s truck sat in the Coast Guard lot. Tracie jumped out and hurried into the building, wiping back the tears from her face. She darted through the door, poked her head in Heath’s cubicle, and then finally found him sitting with a few other guys in the conference room, talking.
They looked up and fell silent when she came through the door.
“Tracie?” Heath jumped up from his seat and hurried to her side. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
She took a deep breath. She would be calm. She would not make a scene. “Who do you work for, Heath?”
Confusion warred in his features. “What do you mean?”
“Are you an FBI agent?” She put it to him bluntly. “Are you investigating me?”
He reached for her, the guilty look on his face telling her everything she needed to know. “I can explain.”
She pulled her arm away. “That’s okay. Trevor already did.” Unable to stand there and look at him knowing he’d deceived her, she spun on her heels and hurried away.
Heath ran after her. “Tracie, please. This isn’t as bad as it looks.” He reached for her as they left the building. “What did Trevor do to you? What did Trevor say?”
In the parking lot, she turned to face him, not caring how miserable she looked with tears running down her face, not bothering to wipe them away. “I don’t know why I should care,” she half shouted through her sobs, “but Trevor said he was going to destroy you. So maybe you should get out of here before he kills you, too.”
Her words proved adequate to keep Heath off her heels. She ran for her car before he could come after her again, quickly cranking the engine and throwing the vehicle into gear. She had a lot of things to sort out, and she didn’t have much time. According to the invitation Trevor had pressed into her hands, she had less than twenty-four hours before her date with death.
Heath fought back the urge to tear off after Tracie, throw himself at her feet, and beg for her forgiveness. No, much as he wanted to make her understand what he’d done, no amount of explaining could change the facts. He had lied to her. She had every reason to hate him.
Besides that, Trevor had made contact with her and threatened her. If he was going to protect her, he’d have to hurry.
He got on the phone with Jonas immediately.
“Your gig is up, Heath,” Jonas said instead of “hello.”
“What? It hasn’t been twenty-four hours.”
“I just talked to Jake. Your cover’s been blown. Apparently Tracie announced your undercover status in front of everyone.”
Heath cringed. How could he have kept Tracie from doing that, when all along he’d been prevented from letting her know who he really was?
The FBI officer continued. “There’s nothing more you can do for us.”
“No, Jonas, I need to—”
His supervisor cut him off. “You’re a liability, Heath. One we can no longer afford. I expect to see you in my office promptly at eight tomorrow morning.”
“Jonas, I—” But the phone at his ear had gone dead.
It was over.
ELEVEN
Joe Cooper handed the phone to Tracie the moment she stepped into the house. “Who is it?” she mouthed to her stepfather.
“She said she was from the FBI,” Joe answered with a concerned look.
“Yes, Tracie Crandall?” The voice on the other end began as soon as Tracie said hello. “My name is Martina Morgan. I’m with the FBI. I understand Trevor Price has contacted you.”
“Yes,” Tracie answered, wondering for a moment how the woman knew. But then, she’d announced the fact loudly in a room full of people, including an undercover FBI agent. And it was their job to know things like this.
“We have a delicate operation a
lready underway and need your assistance to complete the mission.” The woman paused. “Your help may mean the difference between catching Trevor Price, and letting him go free.”
Still feeling stunned, Tracie rushed to agree. “Of course. Whatever I can do to help.” She wasn’t sure yet what she was agreeing to, but it didn’t matter. She’d do whatever it took to put Trevor away for good.
Heath went back to his apartment and threw his things into his duffel bag. He didn’t know how he could help Tracie, and since Jonas had taken him off the case, he didn’t know what else to do. If he wasn’t in his office by 8:00 a.m. the next day, he’d no doubt lose his job. It was bad enough that his cover had been blown, though he didn’t know how Trevor had figured out his identity. Apparently Tim had been right. They had no idea how deep the operation really went.
Falling down on his knees beside his bed, he buried his face in his folded hands and groaned, “No, God, please. I won’t leave her. I can’t let her face Trevor alone.” Knowing how much she feared and hated Trevor, he couldn’t leave her in the hands of the man who only wanted to torment her.
“Dear God, I need Your help. I’ve got to rescue Tracie. I’ve got to. I can’t just walk away and leave her to Trevor. I can’t stop loving her.” A sob tore through his chest, sending the bruised muscles in his back into spasms of pain.
He waited, distantly aware of the grit on his carpet and the musty smell of dust bunnies under the bed. Remembering what Tracie had said about prayer, he tried to sort out what God was up to. Could God take all this evil that Trevor had intended and make good come out of it? Would God change the situation for him? Or was God simply using the situation to change his heart?
He rolled into a ball of pain on the floor and pinched his eyes shut against the horrible reality he’d found himself in. With a gasping breath, Heath laid his heart out. “Okay, God. Whatever You want. Whatever You want me to do, I’ll do it. I’m through trying to do this my way. Please guide me.”
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