Against the Tide (7 page)

“What're you doing?” Detective Greene demanded as she closed the passenger-side door.

“What?” She peered curiously at him.

“You're tampering with evidence.”

“But it's my dad's Jeep,” she told him.

“We haven't gathered prints yet.”

“Oh.” She bit her lower lip, realizing she should've known better. Maybe he was doing his job, after all. “I'm sorry.” She reached inside and turned off the ignition and removed the key.

“You do want us to do our job, don't you?” He narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Well, I figured you'd had plenty of time to go over the Jeep by now,” she shot back. “It's been more than an hour.” She glanced to where a couple of cops were standing on the dock, admiring a sailboat that was for sale.

“Well, we haven't.” He waved to the officers, calling them over.

Feeling the need to bite her tongue, Megan walked away from the Jeep. Standing off to the side of the cabin she crossed her arms in front of her, not bothering to hide her irritation.

“Hey.” Garret joined her. “How'd you get the Jeep out of the shop?”

She held up the key. “Dad's backup key.”

He rolled his eyes. “Wish I'd known about that before I pushed it into the shop yesterday.” He flexed a muscle. “Good workout, though.”

She frowned over to where the cops were now converged all around her dad's Jeep, acting like it contained all the clues to their case. “I just got chewed out for tampering with evidence,” she said quietly.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I figured they'd had enough time to look through it.” She shoved the key into her jeans pocket. “And I didn't even confess that I'd already handled some of the paperwork when I put it back in the glove box.” She shrugged. “Guess I'll see if they can figure that one out.” She turned to Garret. “Do you think that detective knows what he's doing? He seems awfully young to me.”

“He is young.” Garret sighed. “And new to Cape Perpetua. First time we've had a real detective. But there had been some crimes recently—reason for the police department to make room in the budget for a detective.”

“And Detective Greene was all they could afford,” she offered.

He nodded. “Your dad didn't have much confidence in him, either. Called him Detective Greenhorn.”

She grimaced. “That sounds like Dad.”

Garret reached for her arm, pulling her over to the space between the cabins as if to keep his next words confidential. “Rory had been working on a story, Megan,” he said with a quiet intensity. “He'd been doing some investigative journalism. And the young detective had not been very helpful.”

“Do you think Greene was being intentionally difficult?” she asked in a hushed tone. “Trying to cover for someone?”

“I doubt that. I think he's just inexperienced and doesn't like anyone knowing more than he does.”

She nodded. “That's kind of how I felt, too.”

Garret's brows arched. “Did you rub him wrong, too?”

“Probably.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “And I'm not even sure I care.”

Garret smiled. “You're your father's daughter.”

“Thank you.” She told Garret a story about Dad getting in hot water with the police over his “investigative reporting” back when she was a teen. “I always felt proud of Dad for standing up to them, though. In my mind, he was the quintessential newspaper man. I wanted to grow up to be just like him.”

Garret told her a tale of his own about Rory—a fishing story involving a shark and a half-eaten halibut—and it was so hilarious that they were both laughing so hard they actually got tears in their eyes. But it felt therapeutic to her. She knew that her dad's life was something that should be celebrated. He wouldn't want her to be upset and depressed. He'd always despised gloomy funerals, claiming that he wanted his friends to gather and remember him, not mourn him. She still needed to make arrangements for a memorial service. As well as a lot of other things.

“I have so much to do.” She pointed over to where the cops seemed to be finishing up with the Jeep. “Do you think they're done yet?”

“Let's find out.” He led her over to them.

“I really need to get to town,” she said quietly.

“If you could wait about an hour, I could take you in,” he offered.

“A tow truck is on its way to my car right now. They might even be there already. I promised to meet them, to give them a key.”

Garret went over to Detective Greene, explaining the situation and after ascertaining that they were done, he opened the driver's door for Megan. As she got in, he pointed to her luggage in the backseat. “Does this mean you're checking out?”

“Oh, yeah.” She felt embarrassed. “I forgot to pay you, but I can—”

“No, no, that's not it. I'm just curious as to where you'll be staying. Town's pretty booked up, you know.”

“I know.” She frowned. “Maybe Dad's place—”

“No,” he said quickly. “I don't think that's wise.”

She nodded. “You're probably right.”

“But I can understand you wanting something more luxurious than what I have to offer.”

“No, I
love your little cabin. But I realize it's not ready for occupancy yet. I hate being in the way if you're trying to get it finished—”

“Don't worry about that.” He closed the Jeep door, leaning down to look in her eyes. “You're very welcome here, Megan. I mean that. And I'd feel better knowing you're close by. I think your dad would agree, too. Besides, Rocky is going to miss you if you leave.” He smiled. “I'll miss you too.”

She felt another warm rush run through her. “Okay,” she said a bit breathlessly. “When I get done with everything in town—and that might take a while—I'll be back.”

He pointed to her bags again. “Might as well leave those here.”

So she got out and together they extracted her bags. “Thanks, Garret.” She watched as he gathered her luggage. “I don't know what I'd have done without your help so far.” She really didn't want to leave him now. Not just because he made her feel safe either. But she had business to attend to, and so she just thanked him and started the engine.

He made a concerned frown. “Just be careful out there, Megan. Watch your back.”

“I will.” But as she pulled out of the marina, she felt uncertain and unsettled. If someone was out there with a high-powered rifle, how was it possible to watch her back?
For all she knew, the gunman from the boat could be lurking behind one of the many evergreen trees along the river right now. Or positioned along the road, waiting for her to drive into town, with his long dark gun ready, its scope pointing directly at her head.

Once again, prayer seemed her only defense. So with one eye on the road, and one eye watching the shadows alongside it, she prayed all the way back into town.

EIGHT

S
he was barely out of sight when Garret felt uneasy. Why had he let her leave like that? All by herself in the soft-topped Jeep that offered zero protection against a crazed gunman. It went against everything inside him. And yet the police, especially Detective Greene, were all acting so laid-back. It was as if their indifference had become contagious. But he should know better. He set her bags inside Cabin A, relieved to know that at least she'd be back here for the night. And she could have Rocky with her again.

Even so, as he went back outside, he was tempted to jump in his rig and follow her to town. Except that he knew he had responsibilities to take care of first. Best case scenario, it'd be an hour before he could get away from the marina. But he could check in on her by phone. He'd give her enough time to make it to town before he sent her a text. Garret wasn't much into texting, but it seemed less intrusive than phoning her. He certainly didn't want to worry her. He could tell she was already feeling pretty anxious. And why not? He would have to make it seem like he just wanted to keep tabs on her. No big deal. She didn't need to know that he couldn't get her off his mind—and not just for safety concerns either.

Seeing Wade now being questioned by the police, Garret decided to go over to listen in. He had some questions he wanted to ask Wade, too. He watched as Wade told the police that he pretty much knew nothing about any of this. And that wasn't surprising since Garret had barely had a chance to talk to him this morning. Still he was curious as to whether Wade had observed anything out of the ordinary in the past several days. Something that hindsight might spotlight.

Growing bored with the line of questioning, Garret went to check on a boat in the shop. The new employee, Kent Jones, had been assigned to it, but from what Garret could see, Kent's work wasn't only slipshod, it was absent—just like Kent. The inboard motor looked pretty much the same as when he'd started on it last week.

Seeing that the police were all leaving, Garret let Rocky out of the dog run and then headed over to the marina store. Calling out for Wade, he discovered him restocking sodas into the small cooler by the cash register. “Have you seen Kent today?” Garret asked him.

Wade shook his head. “I don't recall seeing him since Wednesday.”

“And he hasn't called in sick?”

“I haven't heard a word from him.”

“Have you seen him around your apartment building? He still lives there, right?”

“As far as I know.” Wade frowned.

“He's a good friend of yours, isn't he?”
Garret studied Wade closely. Wade was the one who had brought Kent on board.

Wade looked uncertain as he leaned down to scratch Rocky behind the ears.

“I mean, you did recommend him for the job, didn't you?” Garret waited, feeling impatient.

“Yeah, well, Kent moved into my apartment complex a while back,” Wade told him. “But I wouldn't call him a friend exactly. Not a
good
friend, anyway. I mean he was sure friendly and everything—at first. I hadn't known him that long, but he kept telling me he was looking for a boat mechanic job, talking like he was real experienced, the best thing since sliced bread. And when Larry moved inland, I told Kent about the job here. You said you needed a new mechanic.”

“Right...” Garret rubbed his chin. “So you didn't know Kent that well?”

“Not really.” Wade frowned. “Why?”

“Because I'm not so sure about him. And when I checked out his work on that Chris Craft inboard just now, well, I'm pretty disappointed. I think I'll have to let him go.” If Kent hadn't left already—like Garret suspected.

“Man, I'm sorry, Garret.” Wade slowly shook his head. “I believed him when he told me he was good with boats. He talked it up big.”

Garret studied Wade. He'd been working at the marina for several years and Garret had never had a reason to doubt him...till now.

“Do you think Kent might've been setting you up?” Garret asked. “You know, befriending you just to get hired here?”

Wade ran his fingers through his short blond hair. “Yeah, maybe so. To be honest, the more I got to know Kent, the less I trusted him. You know?”

Garret just nodded. He was tempted to say more, but he wasn't a hundred percent certain he could trust Wade. Especially considering his lack of judgment in recommending a guy he barely knew. “Well, just keep your eyes open,” he told him. “Something's going on around here. And, despite what Detective Greene said about that gunshot being random this morning, I'm convinced it was intentional.”

Wade glanced down at Rocky. “Want to leave Rocky out to roam? Just to help keep watch?”

“Good idea. But if you need to, feel free to put him in his run.” Garret held up his phone. “And if you see anything the least bit suspicious, let me know. And if anything crazy happens, don't hesitate to call 911.”

Wade's eyes grew big. “Yeah, sure. I will.”

“And if Kent shows up for work, just play dumb, okay?”

“What'd'ya mean?”

“Don't let on that he's history here. Let me take care of that later.”

“No problem.” Wade looked relieved.

“Although I doubt he'll be back.”

As Garret went to talk to Sharon, his housekeeper, he felt fairly certain that Wade was telling the truth about Kent. He probably didn't know the newcomer that well. But that didn't excuse Wade from recommending him for a job. And, although Garret didn't plan to tell Wade as much, he suspected that Kent was involved in this recent crime spree somehow. Maybe it was just paranoid suspicion...or maybe something more. But he planned to get to the bottom of it.

“Hey, Sharon.” Garret waved to the middle-aged woman. He tried not to look too disgruntled as she took one last quick puff on her cigarette before she ground it out under the heel of her worn tennis shoe. She knew about his nonsmoking policy on marina property.

“Hey, Garret.” She picked up the half-full laundry basket and hurried to meet him. “What happened this morning, anyway? Cindy—you know, my friend who lives down the road from here—she called me to say the place was crawling with cops. What's going on?”

He explained the “random” gunshot, but Sharon frowned. “A random gunshot that busts through your sliding door? With you sitting right in front of it? That doesn't sound very random to me.”

He made a half smile. “Yeah, I know.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Is it safe here?”

“I hope so.” He frowned. “But I can't guarantee anything. So if you feel the least bit unsafe, feel free to leave. I've been warning the guests about the situation and, although the police are calling it random, I've told them they're free to check out with a full refund for the remainder of the weekend. So far no one has taken me up on it.”

“Then you'll still need housekeeping,” she declared.

“Of course. But you're not afraid to be here?”

She shrugged. “Nah. Don't see why anyone would want to mess with me.”

“Okay. If you're sure.”

She grinned. “Besides, I kinda thrive on excitement. Just watched three reruns of
CSI
last night.”

He couldn't help but laugh. “Anyway, I'd like you to help me get Cabin A put together for a guest.” He explained his plan and, promising her holiday wages, was glad when she eagerly agreed.

As Garret headed to the storage shed for tools, he wondered if it was irresponsible for him to let guests and employees remain here. Maybe he should've just turned them all out. But he knew his employees needed their pay. And where would his guests go?

Besides, wasn't that kind of like letting the crooks win? How was that right?

And, like Lieutenant Conrad had told him earlier this morning, Larsson's Marina, like the newspaper office and Rory's house, was on the police's radar now. Michael had even suggested they might post a cruiser nearby. Especially if Megan stayed on there. Fortunately, Michael was starting to understand that Megan, because of her relationship with Rory, might very well be in danger, too. Too bad Detective Greene wasn't as easily convinced. Whether it was youth, inexperience or just plain arrogance, Garret had to agree with Megan. Detective Greene continued to foster the attitude that all these recent occurrences were simply random coincidences—and it was most irritating.

As he carried the paint and a few other things back to Cabin A, he sent Megan a text. He didn't say much, just that he was checking in to be sure she was okay. Going into the cabin, he looked around, doing a quick mental inventory of the things that needed to get put into place to make the cabin more livable. But first he needed to board up the broken sliding door in his own cabin. And now that the police were gone, Garret decided it might be time to strap on his own gun and holster.

As Garret used his screw gun to secure a piece of plywood over the shot-out glass door, he didn't really like the feeling of wearing a gun holster along with his tool belt. Truth be told, Garret wasn't overly fond of firearms. Not like his grandfather had been. Sure, he'd enjoyed target-shooting with Grandpa. And as a young teen he'd complied with his grandpa's wishes to take gun safety classes. He'd even attained his concealed carry permit one summer while working at the marina during his college days.

But after Grandpa died, his grandmother had convinced Garret that it was now his responsibility—as marina manager—to ensure the safety and well-being of the guests and boat owners. She had ceremoniously handed over his grandfather's holster and Ruger handgun. “To use for any uninvited, unsavory characters who show up at our marina,” she had solemnly told him. “Not to kill them, of course, but just to keep them from hurting anyone.”

So Garret had agreed to keep a firearm, but for the most part, he'd kept it locked up in his grandfather's gun safe. It was only after listening to Rory this past month, hearing his theories about the criminal activity along the waterfront that Garret got more serious about firearm protection. Garret had no doubts that there was some drug-running going on around and about Cape Perpetua. Two weeks ago he'd had an encounter with a drunken boat captain threatening a fisherman. The incident had pushed him to purchase a small gun safe, which he'd secured to the floor of his SUV. At the time it had seemed a little extreme, but after what happened last night, he was glad he'd done it.

Hearing a buzz on his phone, he checked it to see that Megan had responded to his text, announcing she was just fine. Feeling relieved, he put the last screw into the plywood and decided to spend some time working on Cabin A. At least, when she came back here, she would feel welcome. And he would feel relieved to know that she was nearby.

It was a little past noon when he finished his work in Cabin A. He paused to look around. The baseboard, window and door trim were complete, the bathroom and closet doors were installed, the curtains were hung, the shower rod and bathroom accessories were in place. With Sharon's help, the bed was properly made and she was just starting to apply the pale aqua-blue paint to the bathroom walls.

Garret was just putting his tools away when he heard his phone jingling. Seeing that it was Megan's number, he eagerly answered. Perhaps she'd be interested in getting some lunch.

“Hey, Megan,” he said cheerfully. “What's up?”

“Not much.” Her voice sounded a little uneasy. “It's just that I'm at Dad's house.”

“You went there alone?” he asked. “Are there any police around?”

“Michael was supposed to meet me here, but he hasn't arrived yet.”

“So you're there by yourself?” he asked.

“Uh...yeah.”

“Well, don't go inside, Megan. Wait for Michael.”

“That's my plan.”

“You know I would've been glad to go through the house with you.”

“I know, but Michael was supposed to be here so I felt safe. But I probably should've waited.”

“It'll take me a few minutes, but I'll be right—”

“I hate to bother you, Garret. You've already been such a help.”

“Never mind about that. In the meantime, do me a favor and get out of there. Maybe you could just meet me in town and we could—”

“Yeah, I was just locking the door. I was about to go inside, and I got this, well, an uneasy feeling. That's when I thought to myself, it's
time to phone a friend.”
She made a nervous-sounding laugh. “I thought I could just talk to you as I went inside, you know?”

“Well, if you have a bad feeling you should get out of there.” He set his tool belt on the workbench.

“Just what I'm doing if I could get this stupid door locked again. My hands are kind of jittery.”

“I understand.” He kept his voice calm, hoping to reassure her. “So I was just wondering if you wanted to get some lunch. I still have some stuff to tell you about your dad and I thought—” His words were interrupted by a blood-curdling scream. “Megan?” he yelled into the phone. “Are you okay?”

The scream continued, followed by scuffling sounds—and then the connection broke completely. Nothing but dead air.

Garret was already running toward the marina parking lot. As he ran, he dialed 911, telling the dispatcher to send emergency help to Rory's house. “It's Megan McCallister,” he said breathlessly. “She's in trouble.”