How could all of this have happened? Where had he gone wrong? He had always considered his parents’ marriage good. They’d never had this kind of uncertainty. Dammit, a husband and wife ought to be able to fight constructively and yet keep their marriage together! Other Coast Guard officers had problems, too, but they surmounted them. Why couldn’t he? What the hell kind of flaw was in him that he couldn’t reach Eve and get her to understand that?
Agitated, Gil turned and stalked back to the hangar. There had to be a way to salvage his marriage. Humiliation flowed through Gil, creating a bad taste in his mouth. How much more could go wrong?
By nine o’clock darkness had fallen over Port Angeles. Rook’s phone had been ringing steadily all day. Commander Joe Malone had arrived at eleven that morning and had given her a statement to read to the various reporters who called. Both she and Gil had been pulled off SAR duty and replacements chosen to fill their duty slots. Gil was working out of his office with two other commanders.
She was relieved that Malone knew his job well. The place was a zoo. She saw Stuart everywhere. Had the man cloned himself? If he wasn’t with the investigation team, he was giving her guidance and sometimes support. Rook began to hate the press. They were demanding to speak to the crews involved. To Rook’s relief, Malone dealt adroitly with them. Noah and his crew were in the admin building, waiting to be questioned individually by Pete McCall, the lawyer who had come in from Seattle with Malone.
Wiping her sweaty palms, Rook managed to grab a fifteen-minute break. She knew that she had to find her brother.
Noah glumly looked up from the table at which he was sitting in the deserted accounting office. He brightened when he saw Rook.
She shut the door quietly, leaning against it. “How are you doing?”
He snorted and stood, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his one-piece dark-blue uniform. “At this point, I’m surprised there aren’t armed guards at the door.”
“This is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard of. I’m sorry, Noah. I know you’d never hurt a defenseless animal.”
He paced the office, running his fingers through his black hair. “Then you’re the only one.”
She watched him, feeling helpless. “Captain Stuart is maintaining your innocence to the press, Noah. He’s a hundred percent behind you and your crew.”
Barely turning his head, Noah gave her a dubious glance. “Until he can prove otherwise.”
“He’s not saying it just to the press. He’s fighting for you. So are the commanders from the 13th District.”
“Yeah, I heard the admiral sent his boys down to head up this three-ring circus. You know your career is screwed when the head honcho gets involved. What a mess.”
She walked over to him. “Listen to me—I know you’re innocent.”
Noah lifted his head, studying Rook’s exhausted features. A hint of a smile tipped his mouth. “This is a new twist. My sister finally believes something I said.”
“Look, I know there’s a lot of bad blood between us, Noah, but…” She hesitated.
Noah waited, watching her struggle with her feelings. “What?” he asked gently, breaking the strained silence.
Rook met his dark-gray eyes. “Well, I’ve gotten to know you better in the last month. You’ve never lied to me—”
“Like I supposedly did before?” Noah couldn’t keep the hurt out of his tone.
Rook ignored his question. “My instincts tell me you had nothing to do with the shooting of the whale.”
Noah eyed her speculatively, his voice thick with carefully controlled emotion. “Rook, if nothing else comes out of this stinking mess except the fact that you trust me again, that’s—more than I ever expected.”
She stared down at her flight boots for a long time. “There’s a difference between belief and trust, Noah. I don’t believe you shot that whale.”
He looked away, his face drawn. “And trust?”
“No. At least, not yet.”
He nodded. “Okay, that’s honest.”
Rook gave an exasperated sigh. “Look, let’s just call a truce between us for now. I don’t want to get into another fight with you about our past while this thing is hanging over our heads.”
Wondering if she realized she’d said “our” heads, Noah nodded. “I’ve been wanting to settle this war between us ever since you got here.”
“Noah—”
“Okay, okay. Thanks for coming up to see the prisoner. He appreciates it.”
“I—do you need anything?”
Noah smiled slightly, some of the tension easing from the planes of his face. “You’d better get out of here. If one of the investigation team finds you ‘conspiring’ up here with your brother, they’re liable to think you had something to do with the whale shooting, too.”
“If I was worried about that, I wouldn’t have come in the first place.”
“My crew and I haven’t eaten since noon. Could you get someone to bring us some dinner and maybe coffee? We’d all appreciate it.”
“I’ll make sure that you’re all fed.”
Noah nodded, watching Rook wrestle with her feelings. Maybe something good would come out of this jam. Something already had. Rook hadn’t abandoned him totally.
“Thanks.”
On the way back down the stairs to her office, Rook ran into Jim. The look on his face mirrored the way she felt.
“Rook?” Jim took the last few steps two at a time. There were people walking rapidly here and there, so he stopped a few feet from Rook. As much as he wanted to hold her, it would be impossible, under the circumstances.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes. I hope you know that.” Rook heard the wobble in her low voice. He managed a slight smile. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day, and the phones to the station here have been busy. That’s why I came over. You didn’t answer your cell or the phone at your apartment, so I figured you were involved in this whale emergency. The whole town is in an uproar over it.”
She fought an urge to fall into his arms. Right now, she needed a harbor of protection. “There’s an empty room down the corridor. Let’s talk in there,” she suggested wearily.
Jim studied Rook’s drawn features in silence as she closed the door and then rested her back against it. “You look like hell.”
“I feel like hell, too,” Rook murmured. She gave him a confused look. “Right now, all I need is to be held for just a moment.”
“Come here, then…” Jim coaxed, opening his arms.
A broken sigh escaped Rook when she sagged against Jim. His arms were strong and supporting as they slid around her shoulders and back.
“Better?”
“Much,” she whispered, closing her eyes, sliding her arms around his waist.
Jim rested his jaw against her hair. “Just knowing you, I don’t think your brother could do something like that.”
Wearily, Rook barely opened her eyes, her cheek against the rough cotton weave of his shirt. She could hear the slow, steady pounding of Jim’s heart beneath her ear. “Noah and I have our problems, but he’s never been a killer of animals. Never.”
Stroking her hair with his hand, Jim muttered, “Then what’s behind this? The newspaper story I read this morning has gaping holes in its allegations. How could someone in a fog bank see a Coast Guard cutter shoot a whale?”
Each caressing stroke dissolved another layer of tension from Rook. “Eve Logan is using her newfound power as a reporter to get at me because she thinks Gil and I are having an affair.”
“Christ,” Jim grated, his arms tightening around Rook. “Can she prove the Coast Guard shot the whale?”
Rook shook her head. “I don’t know. This whole thing is a terrible mess. Eve came in here this afternoon to have a showdown with me.”
Jim looked down at her, worried. “Tell me what happened.”
She snorted. “I lost my cool, to begin with. I jabbed her in the shoulder with my finger. Then Gil showed up unexpectedly and l
iterally dragged Eve out of the office. I understand from Jody Theron that they had a huge fight out in the parking lot behind the admin building, and everyone could hear it.”
Shaking his head, Jim held her at arm’s length, studying her critically. “You’ve been through hell.”
“It’s not over yet, Jim. The captain is in a marathon session with Gil and the Seattle 13th District Coast Guard crew to try to find out what really happened.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Have you got a white horse and some armor?”
He grinned, caressing Rook’s stubborn chin. “I’d say you have your own white horse and armor. You’re standing and fighting, instead of running. That’s a good sign.”
“How’s your dad?” she asked.
“Getting along fine. In another week, he should be released from the hospital.”
“At least that’s good news.”
Jim slid his hands down her shoulders and squeezed her hands. “I know all hell’s broken loose around here, and I’m sure they’re probably trying to find you right now. I’d better go….”
Rook gazed up into Jim’s face. “You’re so strong all the time. I wish I had that ability.”
Jim tilted her chin upward, kissing her lips gently. “There was a time not so long ago when your strength was my strength,” he reminded her huskily, relishing the returning warmth of her mouth. “I’ll be yours now.” Pulling away, Jim held her gaze. “Call me when you get home tonight, all right?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll wait for your call, Wild Rose. Hang in there.”
Chapter Fourteen
It was midnight. Ward looked around the conference table at his team. Cups of half-drunk coffee, maps, photos and anything else that might concern the investigation was in evidence. Everyone was grim.
Commander Pete McCall, the lawyer who had been called in, pointed to the tape on his cell phone. “I think we’ve got to listen to your conversation with the Star one more time. Maybe we missed something in that meeting.”
Nodding, Ward depressed the button on the cell sitting in the middle of the table and the four of them listened.
Gil, who had been resting his brow against his hands, jerked his head up. “Wait!” And he signaled for the cell to be paused. He turned to his captain. “Did you hear what Eve said? She heard bullets being fired at a high rate of speed the first two times and then a third time at a slower rate.” He glanced at the commanders who sat opposite him. He liked McCall, who had proven to be sharp and helpful.
McCall sat up. “No cutter can fire a .50 caliber at a high rate of speed,” Gil continued. “Their max rate is five hundred rounds per minute. But as you all know, we always slow fire at a hundred rounds per minute to keep the barrel of the gun cooled down.”
“Besides,” he added, pulling out Caldwell’s report. “In here, Noah and his crew all stated that they fired five bursts at one-minute intervals. I think what Eve heard the third time was the cutter firing.”
Ward rubbed his jaw, which needed to be shaved. “So, who fired the first two times?”
McCall tapped his blunt fingertips against the highly polished surface of the cherry table. He looked over at Stuart. “Is it possible that a Canadian military helicopter flew over the yacht, fired at the whales and then took off for the border?”
Ward sat up. “Wait a minute!” All heads turned in his direction, waiting.
Hope charged his voice. He leaned forward on his elbows. “Why just look at the Canadian military? Channing Helicopters has just opened up a manufacturing plant here in Port Angeles. They produce a small helicopter that is sold to third world countries. Some of them are equipped with weapons.”
Gil grinned. “Yes, sir, that’s right! Christ, why didn’t I think of that before?”
McCall smiled grimly, his green eyes thoughtful. “Because we were all so busy trying to locate the guilty party among our own people, that’s why.”
Ward agreed, relief flowing through him as never before. “McCall’s correct. What we need to do is get a ballistics expert to look at those photos of the calf to figure out what kind of round was used to kill it. Then, we can match that against the Point Countess’s gun and the type of weapon Channing puts aboard its helos.”
Gil sat back, excitement thrumming through him. “If the caliber matches what Channing arms that helo with, we’ve got our first real suspect.”
The table quieted, each man gauging the other. Ward rose and cursed softly. He walked the perimeter of the small, carpeted room, thinking. He finally halted and studied the team.
“Channing has a group of test pilots who fly each new model that comes off the line. They’ve always notified us when they planned to hold target practice over the Pacific.” A gleam came to his eyes. “What if some pilot went joyriding out there and decided to take a couple of potshots at a whale?”
Gil got up. “Remember what Mrs. Edwards said. They were in a fog bank when the shooting took place. The helo she heard roared right over them. Whoever did the shooting had to be armed. Ballistics will give us the information to identify the type of slug used. Number two, not all helos are equipped with the kind of instruments that it takes to fly in fog. But, unless I’ve slipped a cog, Channing has been developing an all-terrain, all-weather helo. With an all-terrain screen, the pilot would be able to see not only landmasses, but boats or anything else on the surface, including whales. He may have been using the fog on purpose, to test that particular piece of equipment.”
“The fact that there was a whale nearby was gravy,” Ward added.
“Or,” Malone added, “he might have wanted fog and a moving target to test both the radar equipment and the weapons system simultaneously.”
Ward smiled. “Well, it’s a reasonable explanation, gentlemen—something to sleep on tonight. Let’s close up shop. I’ll meet with all of you here at 0800 tomorrow.”
Gil was walking across the deserted Admin parking lot when he heard his name called. Turning, he saw Rook Caldwell running toward him, her face contorted. What now? It was two in the morning, and he was trying to emotionally prepare himself to talk to Eve when he got home.
“Gil…” Rook said breathlessly, coming to a halt.
“What’s wrong?”
Gulping for breath, she gasped, “It’s Paula….” Rook choked on a lump in her throat, on the verge of tears. “I just talked to Tag a few minutes ago. She’s slipping in and out of consciousness. Tag said her doctor didn’t think she would last much longer—maybe a couple of hours….” Rook looked away, trying to hide the tears in her eyes. “Tag asked both of us to come over, if we could. I tried to find you in the wardroom, but you’d already left. I told the captain about Paula, and he said to find you.”
Logan closed his eyes, using the car as support. The day had been a ballbuster, and now it was going to get far worse. His confrontation with Eve would have to wait. And right now, the way he felt, he wasn’t going to call and tell her where he was. “Come on, let’s get over there.”
Rook took a deep breath. “I know how close you two are.”
“Like brothers,” Gil admitted hoarsely. “We went through Pensacola and Mobile together.”
She nodded, too emotional herself to try to find words that might comfort Gil. “I’ll meet you over there,” she whispered.
When Gil walked into the Welsh house, he knew that Paula had died. Rook gave him a strained look, as if she sensed it, too. Walking down the hall, they saw Paula’s doctor and a nurse emerge from her room. The physician confirmed what they already knew. He gestured them toward the living room. Once there, he said, “Tag asked to be left alone for a few minutes with his wife….”
“Of course, Doctor.” Gil swallowed against, a barrage of tears. He gripped Rook’s arm, leading her to a couch. “Come on, Rook, we’ll wait in here until he comes out.”
Rook wiped the tears from her eyes and sat down. The house was quiet. She glanced over at Gil. His face was drawn and his cheeks glis
tened with spent tears. Covering his hand, she choked out, “I think I’ll make some coffee. I can’t stand sitting around and waiting.”
He nodded, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah…good idea.”
Rook was working quietly in the small kitchen when she sensed, rather than heard, someone enter the room. She turned.
‘Tag?” He appeared waxen, his eyes dark and lifeless, skin stretched taut across his cheekbones. Automatically, Rook set the glass coffee pot aside and walked over to him. Tears blurred her vision as she put her arms around him and drew him close. “I’m sorry,” she muffled, “so sorry.”
Wordlessly, Tag embraced her, burying his head on her small shoulder. Rook’s womanly strength triggered a deluge of withheld grief. He’d been the steady one for Paula in her last hours. She had broken down and cried, telling him she never wanted to leave him. Tag had stroked her hair and soothed away her fears. He didn’t know what real courage was until now, when he’d controlled his own grief and fear of loss to give Paula peace of mind. A sob ripped through him, like a fist welling up through his guts, shattering his heart. Tag wasn’t aware of exactly what Rook was crooning to him. It didn’t matter. Just the solace in her voice, the care she was extending to him, was enough. Hot, scalding tears welled up in his tightly shut eyes. He gripped Rook hard, needing her support, her strength.
Gil heard Tag weeping and got to his feet, heading for the kitchen. He stood at the doorway for only a split second before moving to his friend’s side. He saw the vulnerability in Rook’s wide, tear-filled eyes as she held his sobbing friend. He read the plea in her expression and came over to help.
The three of them stood in the center of the kitchen, arms around one another, crying.
Eve heard the door slowly open and then quietly close. She glanced at the clock on their bedroom dresser. It was 4:45 a.m. Anger, more chilling than she’d ever experienced, moved through her as she slipped into her silk robe. Opening the door, she met Gil halfway down the dimly lit hall.
“Just where have you been? Do you know what time it is?”
Gil staggered to a halt, his mind spongy with fatigue. Eve’s face was shadowed with fury. He stared down at his watch for several seconds before the time registered on him.
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