The Unrelenting Tide (Islands of Intrigue: San Juans - Christian Romantic Suspense)

by Bonner, Lynnette

  Carcen’s teeth slammed together. “What did this dude look like?”

  “I don’t know, man!”

  Carcen dropped his chin, maintaining eye-contact.

  “I don’t! I swear! We never met in person. He wired me the money and emailed me instructions, right down to exactly what I was to say to her.”

  Carcen’s adrenaline spiked. Another lead to follow. They were getting closer to this slime-ball. He shoved a pen and paper across the table. “I’m going to need the email address and banking information.”

  Dawson scribbled on the tablet. “That dude was trippin’-good, man. Everything happened exactly like he said it would! Right down to the number of cops who showed up and everything.”

  A tap sounded on the interrogation room door.

  Carcen sighed. Just when they were maybe getting somewhere. But none of his officers would interrupt him without good reason. He stood. “Give me a second.” He strode to the door and stepped out.

  Niemeyer, a sheaf of papers in one hand, looked up at him. “Sorry to interrupt but I ran Wiseman like you asked me to. Nothing came up as far as a criminal record, but,” she arched her brows, “before four and a half years ago, Randy Wiseman didn’t exist. And get this…” She flipped the papers around. A glossy color photo lay on top. “This is an image I pulled from the footage of that Genesis Expedition auction.”

  Carcen’s mouth went dry. The man in the photo wore a tuxedo and his hair was styled differently, but there was no question about his identity.

  Randy Wiseman had been at that auction six years ago. Randy Wiseman who’d claimed he needed an introduction to Devynne. Randy who’d taken her out on a date and who’d suddenly decided to hang a poster of one of her movies in his apartment.

  Carcen sank against the wall staring blankly into the distance. That didn’t prove anything but it certainly raised a lot of questions. Shock shivered through him. How was this possible? For the past four years, if anyone had asked, he would have told them the man was his best friend. He forced his thoughts back to the present and focused on Niemeyer. “Thanks, Shannon. We’ll have to bring him in to answer some questions. Let me get Dawson back to his cell and then we’ll go get him, alright?”

  She nodded. “I’ll get the paperwork started.”

  Another thought occurred. “Shannon?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Radio the guys out at her place and let them know our suspicions just in case he decides to show up out there.”

  She nodded. “Already on it.”

  “Thanks.” He scrubbed a hand over his face still unable to comprehend it. Randy? They’d gone to church, attended Bible study, and worked out together weekly for the past 4 years. Randy had been there for him during the early days of deep grief after Kent had been killed. Was he now to believe it had all been a ruse on Randy’s part? That the man was only here because of Dev. And might have even killed his brother?

  Don’t go there till you have better proof. He’d give Randy the benefit of the doubt until he was able to talk to him. But he had to admit things did not look good for the man. He obviously hadn’t been honest with Carcen on a number of things. The picture he’d just seen was glaring evidence of that. If his true identity wasn’t what he’d been hiding all these years, what was?

  He gritted out a sigh and reached for the interrogation room door, forcing himself back to the work of the present.

  As he stepped into the room Dawson gave a low moan and tried to grab his stomach, but the chain keeping him secured to the table brought his hands up short.

  Suddenly the image of Randy getting Dawson’s coffee that morning flashed to mind. Alarm stabbed through him. “How long have you been sick?”

  Dawson moaned. “Started this morning. But it’s been getting worse in the last hour, or so.”

  Carcen met Harry’s wide gaze even as his hand snagged his phone. If someone had gotten into his jail and poisoned one of his prisoners on his watch he’d never forgive himself.

  The interrogation room door burst open and Donny thrust his head inside. “Carcen. You need to come now! Just got a phone call from a panicked female. She said it’s life and death. I think it was Devynne!”

  Carcen spun toward the door, his heart crashing in great bursts against the walls of his chest. “Donny what are you doing here? Have we gotten a call from Sullivan or Boyd?”

  “We gotta go! I’ll tell you on the way!”

  “Get Shannon in here now.” Concern for Dawson momentarily forgotten, Carcen’s hands trembled as though with a palsy as he scooped up his recorder, the files, and the paper Dawson had written on.

  “She left. She’s ahead of you by just a few seconds.”

  “You’ll have to stay here then. I need you to call him a doctor.” He flicked a gesture at Dawson and squeezed past Donny in the doorway. “And then get him back to his cell and man the place till we get back. Now, give me the low-down on that call. Quickly!” Carcen tucked everything under one arm, shucked his weapon, and double-checked the loads.

  Donny gulped for air. “I was heading home just like you said, but then I remembered Shannon might need me to help run some of the evidence from the ice cream parlor. But when I walked in Shannon had just taken the call. That’s all I know.”

  Carcen sprinted out the door and across the parking lot to his truck. He tossed everything across to the passenger seat and leapt in. Barely waiting for the engine to catch, he stomped down the accelerator. Gravel spewed out from under his tires. He slapped on the siren and snagged his seatbelt into place as he curled a right onto Tucker, tires squealing like pigs in a slaughter house.

  This was not good. Really not good.

  He spoke into his mic. “Boyd? Sullivan? You reading me?”

  A reply came over the line, but it was Niemeyer. “Been trying to raise them. So far I’ve gotten no response.”

  “Niemeyer, I’m right behind you. Wait for backup when you arrive on site!”

  Nothing but silent static in response to that. He tried again with the same results.

  “God…” He couldn’t think of another word to say, but he’d never cried out a prayer so fervently in his life. The three miles to Dev’s place seemed like a hundred but finally the turn loomed ahead. Rubber protested against asphalt as he made the right onto Sea Mist and cut the siren.

  The only cars in Dev’s half curve driveway were her Civic and the cruiser shared by Boyd and Sullivan. Niemeyer’s sedan, lights flashing, was parked on Sea Mist and angled at the far end of the crescent drive to block anyone from exiting from that end. Carcen jammed on the brakes and slanted his truck across the exit closest to him just as a precaution. An intruder could have a motorbike hidden out of plain view at the side or back of the guest house.

  Snatching the keys from the ignition, he leapt out and palmed his Glock. He jogged to the corner of the guest house where he’d be able to peer down and see the back of Dev’s house. The sloping yard between him and her back deck lay empty. Niemeyer, weapon at the ready, squatted behind her vehicle’s bumper. With an arch of her brows she stepped out from behind her cover and picked her way cautiously down the steps, scanning the yard from side to side.

  “Right behind you,” he called softly, running in a crouch to the top of the stairs.

  Her almost imperceptible nod was the only indication that she’d heard him.

  Just then Dev’s back door swung open, cracking against the inner wall. Even as his pistol swung toward the movement, he saw Niemeyer’s do the same. His finger tightened on the trigger. But no one stepped out. Just the wind?

  His gaze swept the yard once more and caught on a booted foot sticking up at an awkward angle through the salal across the hillside. “Niemeyer,” Carcen jerked his head toward the sight and willed the strength to remain in his legs.

  “Sullivan!” She leapt over the stair rail and scrambled into the salal.

  Carcen rushed across the landscaping right on Shannon’s heels calling into his radio, “All avai
lable units. Backup needed at 1020 Seamist Drive, Friday Harbor.”

  The door to the house creaked softly, swinging a lazy arc, but the glance he darted inside revealed an empty stretch all the way to the sea-side deck. Where were Devynne and Marissa? If he had failed them… He shook the thought away, needing to focus on the here and now.

  Sullivan lay barely visible in the tangle of underbrush though they stood right over him. But one leg, caught on a fallen tree, stuck up through the thicket that entangled his limbs. He’d taken a bullet through his forehead. His eyes, unseeing, void of life, and gaped open in distress, stared past them toward the canopy of evergreens overhead.

  Niemeyer crouched and felt for a pulse as Carcen scanned a quick three-hundred-and-sixty-degree circle. He saw nothing, but they were sitting ducks out here. She pulled her hand away and shook her head, distress etched on her face.

  “Get inside!” His low command might as well have been a yell in the stillness and shock of the moment.

  They both rushed into the kitchen, slamming the door behind them. Devynne crouched in the stairway, the only thing protruding from behind the wall were her trembling gun and the top half of her head. A red light danced across Niemeyer’s chest and paused on his. “Dev it’s us!”

  With a gasp Devynne dropped the point of the gun, then laid it on the tread beside her and covered her face. Her shoulders shook.

  Carcen reached her in two strides, thrust her gun into the back of his belt, and then yanked her into a firm embrace. He was despairing over Sullivan, yet never happier to see someone alive and healthy in his life. “It’s alright. Everything’s going to be alright. What happened. Why did you call? Where’s Boyd? And Marissa?”

  Her eyes widened and without a word she turned and dashed up the stairs. He gestured Niemeyer toward the door, circled his finger around their current level and then pointed down the stairs. With a nod, she hurried to shut the door and arm the code and he knew she’d check the mid and lower levels to make sure they were alone in the house.

  He followed Devynne to stand over Marissa who, thankfully, slept soundly in her own little bed. He did a thorough sweep of the room and determined all was clear. With no outside access to this room Marissa wasn’t in any immediate danger, so he took Dev’s elbow and pulled her back out into the hall. Motioning for her to stay put, he swept the other rooms, as well. All seemed as it should be. So what had happened here?

  He stopped beside Devynne once more just as Niemeyer appeared on the landing. “The lower two levels are all clear and secure.”

  They both looked to Devynne for some answers.

  Chin quivering, she looked back and forth between them. “Are they dead?” Alarm mixed with panic laced her whisper.

  They? Dread smeared another dark stroke over the light of this day, but she didn’t need to focus on that right now. Carcen gripped her by the shoulders and willed her to focus. “Why did you call?” He kept his voice low.

  She looked puzzled. “Call?” She shook her head. “I didn’t. I tried but the land line wasn’t working and I can’t find my cell phone anywhere.”

  Carcen rubbed the back of his neck. “Someone must have cut the line. What happened out here?”

  She rubbed her arms. “Everything was quiet all afternoon. Officer Sullivan came down and we ate dinner and he took the trash up to the bins by the guest-house but he never came back.” She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her shoulders. “Boyd tried to call him but he didn’t respond. So he went out looking for him and he never came back either.” She sighed, blinking hard against the shimmer of moisture in her eyes.

  “What time was that?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know… It seemed like hours, but it had to have been more like thirty minutes.”

  He pulled her against him again, closing his eyes. So thankful she hadn’t been hurt. “Why didn’t you shut the door and arm the code?”

  She shook her head against his chest. “I don’t—all I could think was they might need to get back into the house and I needed to stay right there in the stairwell with my gun to protect Marissa.”

  She shuddered and he soothed a hand over her hair. “I’ve got you now. We’re going to get through this.”

  Niemeyer stepped up into the hallway and rubbed a quavering hand over her face, her grim expression holding out no hope. She and Sullivan had worked together for more than ten years, but she was doing an admirable job of holding it together. “What next?”

  Carcen clapped a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Donny told me you’d taken a call. That something “life or death” was happening to Dev?”

  She nodded. “I did. The call came in right after I showed you that info on Wiseman. It came through pretty garbled and staticky, but it was a woman and she sounded pretty distraught. I caught “Sea Mist Drive” and “said he’s going to kill me” and that was about it. Sanchez came in just as I was hanging up and I told him to let you know and headed this way.”

  Carson sighed and rubbed one hand over his jaw. They still didn’t know where Boyd was. He tried the transceiver again. “Boyd? You there?” No welcoming response came through. “Boyd?” Still nothing. He dropped his hand in defeat.

  Then the radio crackled. “Sanchez here. I’m five minutes out. What’s going on?”

  Shannon’s feet shifted but she let him do the talking.

  “Just get here. Watch yourself and let us know when you arrive so we can give you cover on your way down the steps. We have one officer down and one unaccounted for.”

  Devynne whimpered softly.

  Best to keep focus away from the body in the yard. Carcen settled one hand at the back of her head and bent to force eye contact. “There’s only, what, three houses on this street?”

  Devynne nodded. “One on either side of me.”

  Carcen took her arm but spoke to Shannon. “No one goes anywhere. We all stay here together. We split up, and whoever this guy is can pick us off one by one.”

  “But shouldn’t we check the other hous—”

  Carcen raised a hand. “Decision’s made, Niemeyer. No one goes anywhere alone.” He turned toward Devynne. “We’ll call them.” He pulled out his phone. “Do you have their numbers?”

  She nodded, and took the BlackBerry from him. “I know Honey’s by heart and she might kno—” The phone buzzed in her hands and a text popped up on the screen. Her eyes widened. “Carcen?” She rotated the Blackberry till he could read the message.

  U should go help her!

  He frowned. “Help who—”

  A scream sliced through the evening air, undulating as though born on the very waves of the Sea itself.

  Devynne’s eyes widened and she clutched her hands to her chest. “Honey! I thought she was gone on vacation!?”

  He looked back down at the phone. No name. Only a number. He pressed the green button to dial it. “Where was she going?”

  “Hawaii. She’s not supposed to be back for a couple weeks.”

  So was it Honey screaming? And if not her, who?

  “Lang!?” Niemeyer had her gun out and waited for his instructions at the top of the stairs.

  The phone rang once.

  He gestured for her to wait.

  Twice.

  He glanced into the bedroom where Marissa still slept peacefully.

  Three times.

  No way could they take Marissa out into the unknown. And no way could he leave Devynne here with her by herself. And he wasn’t about to send another officer out into the unknown alone.

  Four times.

  The screaming was most likely a trap. Still, a real person was being used as bait. He couldn’t just leave them in distress without help.

  The screaming stopped and eerie silence muffled the evening.

  A message clicked on. “The person whose phone you have dialed has not set up their mailbox to receive messages. If you feel you’ve reached this message in error—” He punched the phone off, resisting the desire to hurl
it against the wall. It had been too much to hope for anyhow. He glanced at his watch. Donny would be here any moment. “Two of us will go when Sanchez gets here. For now, we’re all going down to the basement.” If the perp started a fire they’d all fry like bugs in a zapper up here on the third floor. He motioned Devynne toward Marissa. “Grab her.”

  Thankfully Devynne did so without question.

  As they headed down the stairs together he squeezed his radio. “Donny, there was a woman screaming one house to the north. Let me know when you get here and Niemeyer will come back you up.”

  “I’m here. I heard her.” Gravel crunched under tires. “Sounded like it was coming from her back deck. Tell Niemeyer to meet me there.”

  Niemeyer was already headed for the door.

  “Niemeyer will cover you till you can get down here. Then you can both head that way together.” He nodded for Shannon to code and open the door even as he held out one arm to hold Devynne back in the relative safety of the stairwell behind him.

  Sinking to a crouch, Niemeyer covered the back hillside as Sanchez took the stairs down from the drive two at a time. He reached her without incident and nodded to Carcen over her shoulder.

  “Go.” Carcen gestured them in the direction the screams had come from. “I’ll stay here with Dev. Stay together and watch each other’s backs!”

  “Ten-four,” Niemeyer called over her shoulder.

  And with that they disappeared into the deepening twilight.

  Carcen locked the black drape-clad door behind them and armed the alarm, sending up a prayer for their safety. He motioned Devynne down to the lowest level and did another quick sweep of the place before he let Dev lay Marissa on the floor of her sewing room closet.

  Devynne fluttered her hands over blankets already firmly tucked around Marissa. Pain etched her features. “This is all my fault.”

  “Look at me.” He pulled her a few steps away and bent until she met his gaze. Keeping his voice low, he said, “This is not your fault. It’s his. Whoever he is, he made this choice, not you.”

  “I should have told you sooner.” A spark of distant hope lit her gaze. “Did you get any information from Dawson?”