Blowout

by Colleen Cross

  He gasped as an arm protruded from the tarp. She hadn’t sunk at all. She was still wrapped in the damn tarp.

  “Daddy?”

  Frank jumped, startled. He turned to face his daughter. “Emily? I thought you were sleeping.”

  “Where’s Mommy?” She wore the overpriced pink and yellow flowered dress Melinda had picked out just for the occasion of moving to a new home. Just like Melinda to spend a small fortune on something frivolous.

  “She’s downstairs, honey.” He had also slipped a sedative into Emily’s juice when they left Vancouver. It should have knocked her out for hours. Instead, Emily was merely disheveled. Her hair was tangled. One tiny pink sandal was missing and the other was unbuckled.

  Frank broke out in a sweat. What the hell had happened? Emily’s dose had been half that of Melinda’s, yet she weighed less than a third. What if Melinda’s didn’t take? What if the shock of the water woke her and she was somehow rescued?

  “No she’s not. Daddy, my head hurts.” She rubbed her eyes and frowned. “Where’s Mommy?”

  He glanced at the tarp, where Melinda’s leg was partially exposed as the buoyant tarp separated from her body. He had to fix that fast.

  “She’s having a nap, honey. Now go back to sleep.” What if Melinda was discovered and rescued somehow? The strait had a lot of marine traffic on a summer day, so it was quite possible. Why hadn’t he thought to weigh her down with cement like the mobsters did?

  Whatever. He had always prided himself on thinking on his feet, and now was no different. He would adapt and move on.

  “Why did you throw the chair overboard? Will that hurt the fishes?”

  He felt a catch in his throat. How much had she seen? “Come here and give Daddy a kiss.” He kneeled and held open his arms.

  She shuffled forward with her half-sandaled feet and fell drowsily into his arms.

  He caught her with one arm and clamped his other hand over her nostrils and mouth.

  Emily tried to scream. She struggled against him, and her tiny arms flailed as she tried to breathe.

  How long, he wondered.

  Like a just caught fish struggling for its last breath.

  He caught movement from the corner of his eye as the blue tarp unfurled in the waves. It was like a giant target as it floated on the water. Melinda’s body had finally separated from the tarp and slowly sank below the surface. He watched as he held Emily and waited.

  She stopped struggling in less than a minute and went limp. Careful not to uncover her mouth and nose, he loosened his grip on her body and checked her neck for a pulse. Nothing. He waited another minute to ensure she was dead, then tipped her overboard.

  Just in time. He spotted the sailboat as it approached from the south. At the same time he noticed the wind had picked up. He looked down at the water where Emily had gone in. He expected to see ripples.

  Except she hadn’t sunk. She floated, face down in the water. Her pink rubber sandal still loosely attached to her foot. But all dead bodies were supposed to sink, at least that’s what his research had indicated. What the hell?

  That stupid dress again. The fabric trapped the air.

  The sailboat was closer now, within 100 feet. Close enough for them to see him clearly, and perhaps even see Emily’s body in the water. With binoculars they might have even seen what he did. He panicked and grabbed an oar. He plunged it into Emily’s back, pushing her down below the waterline. The air pockets in her flouncy dress dispersed and down she went.

  Then her sandal popped off her foot and floated on the water. He almost retrieved the shoe with the oar before he realized that would release Emily’s body to the surface.

  His heart pounded as the sailboat veered closer.

  He swore under his breath. He had overlooked the most important thing. It hadn’t occurred to him that the bodies might not sink immediately.

  The sailboat straightened course and glided through the water less than fifty feet away. Only one man was visible on deck. He was busy adjusting the sails. “Thank God,” he said aloud as he held his oar against Emily’s body in the water. He raised his free arm and waved.

  It was Melinda’s fault for tricking him and getting pregnant. He wanted to enjoy life, something that was impossible with a baby, a stay-at-home wife and all the bills that were sure to follow. He was sick and tired of being manipulated and living with all the compromises he’d had to make. He only had one life to live and he wasn’t about to waste it.

  He pulled out his cell phone, wallet and keys and tossed them overboard. In the unlikely event they were found, it would appear that he went overboard with Melinda and Emily. His body would never be found, but he wasn’t too worried about that. Many bodies went unrecovered in these waters. As long as nothing traced him to the torched the boat in the harbor, he should be fine.

  It added a little bit of mystery and intrigue. He liked that. Might as well have a bit of fun outwitting them.

  He glanced at his hand and noticed his wedding ring. He pulled it off his finger and studied it in the palm of his hand. It was symbolic, he thought as he tossed it overboard. Out with the old, in with the new.

  A new life. A rich one. And it started right now.

  2

  Katerina Carter’s downtown office window framed a spectacular view of the Vancouver harbor. Great for daydreaming, not so great for getting work done. She checked her watch and realized two things: she had been staring out the window for a good twenty minutes, and her boyfriend, Jace Burton, was late.

  Jace was always on time, but he should have arrived for their weekend getaway by now. They hadn’t much time before their charter flight departed for De Courcy Island, a small, sparsely populated island in the Juan de Fuca Strait near Vancouver Island.

  Jace’s latest project for The Sentinel was historical lore based on a 1920s cult. According to Jace, the cult had plenty of scandal, sex, and even rumors of hidden treasure. The man behind it all went by the name Brother Twelve, or rather, Brother XII, as he insisted it be written. Apparently the Egyptian gods he communicated with had a thing for Roman numerals.

  The trip was technically a working weekend for Jace. His Brother XII assignment was part of a historical series he wrote. Jace freelanced, so a long-term series like this was good. It provided both steady work and perks, like free trips all over North America, depending on the story.

  This assignment was nearby, but it might as well have been thousands of miles away. De Courcy Island was located in the southern part of the Gulf Islands chain, nestled between Vancouver Island and Gabriola Island. The island was less than thirty miles offshore, yet accessible only by private boat or charter seaplane.

  De Courcy was something of a ghost island. Like a ghost town, it was long past its heyday with only a few dozen residents. Less than a hundred years ago, De Courcy had been home to Brother XII’s mysterious cult, the Aquarian Foundation. Soon after it started, the founder relocated the organization from Cedar-by-the-Sea on Vancouver Island to the more isolated De Courcy and Valdes Islands to escape public scrutiny and criticism.

  Cults intrigued Kat. She was always fascinated at how charismatic leaders duped otherwise smart and savvy people. Brother XII was a perfect example. His real name was Edward Arthur Wilson. He claimed to have been born in India to a princess, though evidence suggested he was actually from a lower-middle-class background in Birmingham, England.

  Brother XII based his cult upon the teachings of the Theosophical Society and attracted sizeable donations from thousands of wealthy individuals, including millionaire tycoons. They feared a financial Armageddon as the global financial markets collapsed.

  He claimed that his New Age occultism would save them, and that they would be safe in the Aquarian Foundation’s self-sufficient island settlements. Instead, the Aquarian Foundation went down in flames. Brother XII disappeared never to be seen again, leaving his followers in financial ruin.

  Today the Aquarian Foundation was mostly forgotten, but in its heyd
ay it had been a massive worldwide scandal. Funny how history repeated the same drama, with just minor changes to the cast and setting. People believed what they wanted to believe, even with overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Kat saw that every day as a forensic accountant and fraud investigator.

  Carter & Associates, her forensic accounting and fraud investigation business, was busy and profitable, and she had worked extra hours to catch up before her long weekend trip. She was in a festive mood, ready for a few days of sun, sand and relaxation.

  She had counted the days all week, anxious for a first-hand look at whatever remained of the settlement. She also planned to beachcomb while Jace researched Brother XII and the cult.

  She checked her watch and felt a pang of anxiety. Jace was now a half-hour late, and they were in danger of missing their charter flight. She scanned the harbor and wondered which of the half-dozen floatplanes in the harbor was theirs.

  “He’s finally here, Kat.” Uncle Harry slid into her office, surprisingly spry for his seventy-plus years. “That guy needs a new watch.”

  “Uncle Harry, slow down or you’ll break a hip.” Technically her uncle wasn’t on Carter & Associates’ payroll, yet he spent almost as much time at her office as she did. He had morphed into a permanent volunteer—and fixture—around the office. With no assigned duties, he had no real reason to be here. He was good company, though.

  “Geez, Kat. I’m in great shape. Give me some credit.” Harry spun sideways before he crashed against the wall. “Ouch.”

  “You okay?”

  “Sure.” He winced. “Yoga’s gonna hurt tomorrow.”

  “You could take a day off.” Uncle Harry’s yoga was apparently an extreme sport, evidenced by his ever-present bruises. What possessed a septuagenarian man to sign up for yoga in the first place? Female septuagenarians, no doubt.

  “I suppose. But then my flexibility would just go to pot. Oh, and Gia’s here too.”

  “But we’re already late.” Kat and Gia Camiletti had been close friends since the third grade. She had hadn’t seen or heard from Gia for weeks and wanted to catch up with her, but now wasn’t the time.

  “She’s with some hot young guy.” Harry bent over to touch his toes. He reached mid-calf before he grunted and returned upright.

  A flowery perfume scent wafted into Kat’s office, followed seconds later by Gia in a bright fuchsia-flowered sleeveless dress with matching four-inch heels. All five-foot-two of her curvaceous jiggle tugged at her dress seams. She was twenty pounds more than her dress could handle. “Kat! Meet my new boyfriend, Raphael.”

  Raphael was drop-dead gorgeous, on par with the best-looking movie or reality TV stars. The guy on Gia’s arm didn’t even seem real. His Mediterranean tan contrasted against his tailored white linen shirt. The partially unbuttoned shirt imparted a casual look and also exposed a muscular chest. He wore cotton pants and expensive-looking loafers.

  “A pleasure to meet you.” Raphael smiled and kissed Kat’s hand with an exaggerated flourish. His veneers flashed so white they were almost ultraviolet. His shirt clung to his skin from the heat outside, accentuating broad shoulders and a lean torso. He was more perfect than an airbrushed magazine model, if that was possible.

  Kat was immediately suspicious. Guys like Raphael rarely gravitated towards plump hair stylists like Gia. While he was naturally good-looking, it was obvious he had spent money on his appearance too. Most men cared little for expensive clothing or dental work. Maybe he was vain, or maybe he saw it as an investment of sorts.

  She was also surprised to see Gia with Raphael since she had sworn off men after her high school sweetheart had left her at the altar two years ago. The groom never showed—or even called—leaving Gia humiliated and vowing revenge.

  “Kat?” Gia pulled her beau closer. “Don’t just stare. Say hi.”

  Kat flushed, embarrassed as she already imagined Raphael’s demise at the hands of Gia. At least she hoped that would happen. This guy gave her the creeps. She mumbled a hello.

  Raphael held her hand a moment longer than necessary and stared seductively into her eyes. He was as cool as rain and she instinctively distrusted him.

  It was obvious what attracted Gia. The guy looked like he hit the gym for a couple of hours a day. Gia, on the other hand, wouldn’t be caught dead in a gym. Despite his model good looks he just didn’t seem like the kind of guy that would make Gia happy. Someone like Raphael would only make Gia feel more insecure about herself. He was tall, tanned, and totally out of Gia’s league. His polished look was straight from the pages of a men’s magazine.

  Raphael also seemed to be the polar opposite of Gia’s quirky and offbeat style. While Gia’s infectious enthusiasm was fun, men like Raphael tended to go more for looks than personality. It was wrong to make snap judgments about the guy, but her instincts were usually right on the money.

  Raphael bent over and planted a kiss on Gia’s forehead while still clasping Kat’s hand. “Bellissima, you didn’t mention your gorgeous friend.” He turned to Kat and looked her up and down before casting a dismissive glance at her office.

  “She’s smart, too.” Gia winked at Kat. “Kat’s a forensic accountant. She investigates fraud.”

  Raphael dropped Kat’s hand like she was radioactive. From gorgeous to toxic in mere seconds. “Raphael buys and sells businesses.” Gia beamed at him. “He just arrived from Italy and closed a multi-million dollar deal for the North American line of his revolutionary hair products. We’re moving in together.”

  “Interesting.” It was all Kat could say without betraying her suspicions. Gia was her childhood friend and told Kat everything. She knew for a fact that Gia had no man in her life just a couple of weeks ago, yet they were making plans to move in together. It was like Raphael had just materialized out of thin air. Everything was moving way too fast.

  Gia’s brows furrowed as she studied Kat. “That’s all you can say? I thought you’d be fascinated. Business deals are right up your alley.”

  “I’d love to hear the details, but we’re late for our trip.” She should be happy for Gia, but instead she was annoyed. Not at her friend, but towards Raphael. Within minutes of meeting him, she felt insecure and inadequate in her shabby little office. She resented that, since she was proud of the business she had built from nothing. But compared to Raphael, it looked like she hadn’t achieved very much at all.

  What could possibly be revolutionary in hair products? She was a cynic when it came to beauty products. Shampoo was just glorified soap, repackaged and marketed to gullible consumers—and hair stylists. She’d stick with her drugstore shampoo instead of overpriced salon products, though she’d never admit that to Gia.

  Gia, a hair stylist, thought differently. Every new shampoo or styling aid was like man’s discovery of fire or something. She chided Kat at every haircut for using cheap hair products. Kat promised to switch if Gia somehow proved her salon products were better. Of course Gia couldn’t, because there was no scientific proof or formula difference in the products.

  “Kat?” Jace stood behind the couple, a duffle bag slung over one shoulder.

  Raphael immediately turned and introduced himself. The two men shook hands as Gia smiled at Kat.

  Rescued at last. She motioned to Jace and tapped her watch. “We’re late, Jace. We’ll miss the flight if we don’t leave now.”

  “One sec. Just got a text from the airline.” Jace frowned as he studied his phone screen. Even with his head bowed he almost reached the top of the door frame. He was several inches taller than Raphael, but lanky and wiry in contrast to Raphael’s muscular physique.

  Harry pushed past Jace into the room. He held out a hand to Raphael. “I’m Harry Denton, Kat’s associate.” In reality Carter & Associates was associate-less, but Harry liked the bustle of the office and worked part-time. He wasn’t very tech-savvy so there wasn’t much for him to do other than reception and the odd bit of filing. Clients loved him though, and it was nice to have company at th
e office. It was a win-win situation for both of them.

  Raphael shook his hand. “What exactly does an-uh, associate do around here?”

  “I help Kat with the fraud investigations.” Harry pointed at Kat. “She’s uncovered some doozies. In the billions, even, like the Liberty blood diamond case.”

  “Really?” Raphael stiffened and scanned her office in distaste. “I’d never guess that from the looks of this place.”

  Kat flushed. “I usually meet my clients at their office, so there’s no need for appearances.” She immediately regretted her answer. She had practically insulted herself. Now she just sounded defensive.

  “I would probably do the same.” Raphael turned away.

  Was he implying her office wasn’t worthy of guests? Substance trumped appearances in Kat’s books any day. She disliked Raphael already. What gave him the right to march in here and criticize her office?

  “I’ve got some renovations planned. This place just needs a little elbow grease,” Harry wiped his forehead. “I’ve got to redo the hardwood floors, add a fresh coat of paint and wainscoting. There’s just never enough time in the day. I always get sidetracked.”

  Raphael laughed. ”You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

  Whatever. She liked her early twentieth-century Gastown office just the way it was. Shabby-chic, with its exposed wood and large windows that framed the harbor view. Unfashionable also meant cheap rent and low overhead. Just ignore him, she reminded herself.

  She dropped her laptop in her bag and stood, ready to go. She counted the seconds until she could leave Gia’s rude boyfriend behind.

  Jace frowned as he looked up from his cell phone. “I hate to tell you this, but our flight’s cancelled. Mechanical problems, with no other flights till Tuesday.”

  “That’s terrible.” Kat sighed. An August weekend away with Jace on a chartered plane to a sparsely populated island, all expenses paid? Of course it had been too good to be true. “Maybe next weekend?”

  Jace shrugged. “I can’t wait that long. My deadline is next Friday. I’ll need to find another way to get there.”