Cut and Run 08 Ball & Chain (15 page)

Chester began to cackle at the end of the table. “I’m the only Grady didn’t get lucky last night!”

Nick dropped his fork and put his hand over his eyes.

Chester grabbed his arm and shook him. “You want to bang something too, sonny, you can borrow my shovel!”

They were still laughing when Kelly came jogging back into the room. He looked flustered. “Guys, there’s something wrong outside.”

Ty shoved back from the table, Nick and Zane on his heels as they followed Kelly to the front door. Several other early risers were milling around, looking worried or confused. Kelly cut a swath through them and shoved through the door, pointing toward the staff cottages near the shore. Another small group of people was gathered down there.

Ty took Kelly’s arm. “Doc, will you go to Deacon’s room and make sure they’re safe?”

“Aye,” Kelly said, then darted back into the house.

Ty and Zane took off at a run toward the commotion, with Nick hesitating briefly and then following them instead of Kelly. When they reached the crowd of roughly half a dozen people, Zane immediately took control of the situation, trying to discern what was happening in a loud, commanding voice. They received a cacophony of confused answers, but the prevailing words seemed to be “dead” and “murdered.”

A redheaded man with a hawk-like nose and a ruddy tan finally broke away from the other staff and came up to Zane. “Jockie Fraser,” he said in a Scottish accent, offering his hand. His fingers were stained dark and he was wearing a pair of heavy-duty overalls. “I’m the groundskeeper. I was on my way to the docks when I heard Maisie scream and I came running. Found her hyperventilating and found him like this.” He led them over to the scene, wringing his hat in his hands.

The body was facedown in the sand, just yards away from the encroaching surf. The shoreline around him was completely trampled.

Nick cursed under his breath. The homicide detective in him must have been pulling the pin on a grenade inside his head just looking at this messy scene.

Zane made his way carefully to the body to check for a pulse. He found none, as he’d probably expected, and he stood and backed away in his own footsteps. “We need to secure the scene and call the local authorities,” he said to them.

Ty pulled his phone out of his pocket, but soon found he had no service. He glanced at Nick, who was shaking his head at his own phone.

“We got nothing,” Ty muttered.

They asked the staff about their cell service, since they were locals, and were told the island’s service was spotty and only found in the highest of places. They were too remote.

Zane singled out one of the onlookers to go to the mansion and have someone contact the mainland. The girl ran off, and Ty and Zane stood staring at each other for long moments. How did this always happen to them? Every single time. Another vacation, another psychopath.

Nick smacked Ty on the back, bringing his attention back to the present. “You recognize that vest, man?”

Ty took a closer look at the victim’s muddy vest. Burgundy with a gold-stitched fox-and-hound scene repeated over and over. His stomach sank. It was the head of operations, the man who’d insisted the island was safe. “Milton.”

“What do you mean we can’t contact the mainland?” Ty hissed to his brother’s future father-in-law.

The man had ridden down from the mansion when he’d heard the news, accompanied by his two bodyguards and Deuce. Nick assumed Kelly had remained behind with Livi and Amelia to watch over them, but his eyes kept straying to try to catch sight of him.

Stanton’s voice was strained when he answered Ty. “The house telephones aren’t operating properly, there’s too much static on the line. Hamish believes there’s water in the lines. But we’re not getting a radio signal either.”

The larger of his two bodyguards, the overeager leader of the Snake Eaters they all called English, took his sunglasses off and stepped forward. “It could be the work of a signal jammer.”

Stanton sighed in annoyance. “That is one possibility, perhaps. There’s also a massive storm cell all around us, the same one that passed over last night. That’s why we moved tomorrow night’s rehearsal ceremony inside. Communications are disrupted like this two, three times a week during the stormy seasons. It’s no real reason for concern.”

“I’d say it’s reason for
him
to be concerned,” Ty said with a point to the dead man.

“Of course,” Stanton said, staying impressively calm. “I’m merely saying the lack of communications is not unusual. It could be a coincidence.”

“What about a sat phone?” Zane asked.

“Do you have one?” Stanton asked, his tone one of hope rather than sarcasm.

Zane shook his head.

“Neither does anyone else. My personal one has gone missing.”

“That’s a little bit of an alarm, there, boss,” Ty grunted.

“Amelia was playing with it at dinner on the first night. Maisie was trying to retrieve it from her, but I haven’t seen it since. There’s no telling where it is.”

“Great.”

“I’ll have the staff begin a quiet inquiry for anyone else who has one, but we’re trying not to alarm anyone.”

“Even the radios on the boats are out?” Nick asked.

“I’ve not yet got word back from the man I sent to the dock. I don’t have high hopes. Even the staff’s walkie-talkies are on the fritz.”

“Storms usually do that?” Zane asked.

“Not that I’ve seen, no.”

Nick gritted his teeth in frustration. This was kind of like being in the Marines all over again and trying to communicate with cans and string.

“What about the ferry?” Ty tried. “When will they notice they’ve lost contact with us?”

“The day of the wedding is the next arranged landing if the weather is fair. After that, next week. Next month. Maybe. There’s no real schedule for the ferry because the island is private.”

Nick scratched at his eyebrow, looking over at Ty with a shrug. “We’ll send someone in one of the island’s boats, then. The authorities have to be notified of this, we can’t just wait until
nature
lets us call.”

Stanton turned to one of the groundskeepers. “Will you please send word to the dock to have one of the smaller launches prepared for the crossing? And see what’s keeping them so long with the radios.”

Once the man had gone and the rest of the staff had begun to disperse for their daily responsibilities, Stanton drew closer to Ty and Zane, lowering his voice. “Is this . . . was this an accident?” he asked, obviously more rattled than he had been letting on.

Ty and Zane shared a look. “We don’t know. We haven’t touched the scene other than to clear it.”

Nick moved closer, keeping the two Snake Eaters in his peripheral vision because they both annoyed the shit out of him. “If help is going to take a long time in getting here, we need to look at that body,” he told the others. “Evidence is disappearing as we stand here, and there’s more rain coming. And we can’t leave the body like this for much longer. The tide will come in. We’ll have to document the scene as best we can and then move him somewhere to preserve whatever’s on him.”

Ty nodded, still frowning.

“And Ty. If he was murdered . . .”

“There’s probably a murderer on the island with us, yeah.” Ty nodded, his frown growing even deeper. “Do it.”

Nick raised both eyebrows, opening his mouth in surprise. He clutched his right hand to his thigh, making a fist with it. “Me?”

“You’re the homicide detective, right?”

“Not anymore.”

“Irish, just look at the fucking body and see if you think it’s a murder or an accident, okay?” Ty snapped.

Nick grunted in annoyance. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

“I’m sorry.” Ty swiped a hand over his forehead, closing his eyes. “Please.”

Nick huffed and brushed past him, stepping carefully in Zane’s footprints to kneel next to the body. There were no defensive wounds on the parts of his arms that were visible, but the dead man’s watch was cracked. Nick cocked his head to read the time. It had stopped at 3:48 am.

“Possible time of death here,” he said without looking up. He pressed his fingers to the man’s neck. He was cold. He tried to articulate the dead man’s fingers and they moved without resistance. Nick frowned. If he’d died just four hours ago, he would still be in rigor. The cold night could have sped up the cooling of the body, but the evidence was saying different things about when the man had died.

He looked around for pieces of the glass watch face, finally finding them in the mud next to a rock a foot away from the man’s head. The beach was littered with rocks and boulders, some smooth, some jagged. It was possible he’d slipped while walking and hit his head. Nick reached for one of the shards of glass, but his fingers were trembling again. He clutched his hand into a fist and pulled it back, swiping it across his thigh instead. He’d need someone to take photos of the glass shards anyway, so he left them there.

Footprints were impossible to decipher. The sand was too loose, and too many people had passed this way. He leaned far over the dead man, trying to see his face without disturbing the scene any more than it had been. What he found was a gaping wound at his hairline, so deep he could see bone and brain matter. The blood had mingled with the ocean and soaked into the sand. The absence of a blood pool made the brutal wound a shock to find.

“His skull’s been caved in,” he announced.

“Could it be from a fall?” Zane called to him.

Nick shook his head before he even gave the question real thought. “Wound like this, there was some real leverage behind it. Looks like someone brained him with a rock. Never saw it coming. Didn’t put up a fight.”

“He
was
murdered,” Stanton said under his breath, covering his mouth with his palm.

There was a shout from the pathway, and when Nick stood to peer past the others, he saw a man guiding one of the golf carts up the path, waving at them frantically as he swerved the cart all over. When he got closer he hopped out and sprinted toward them, leaving the golf cart to roll by itself down the incline. People shouted and hustled for it before it could hit the cliff and sail over the edge, but the driver didn’t notice.

“What the hell,” Ty said.

“They’re gone,” the man blurted as he ran toward them.

“What’s gone, Gillis?” Stanton demanded.

“The boats!” the young man named Gillis gasped out when he finally skidded to a stop in front of Stanton. “All of them. They’re all gone from the dock. Even the rowboats and kayaks. Mackie says the boathouse was hit by a tree and they’re all gone.”

“Gone,” Stanton echoed.

“You can see them, little dots out floating in the water.” The kid was still breathless. He waved his arm around. “The storm set them all afloat. The ones not still floating sank at the docks.”

Stanton’s eyes were wide when he turned back to Nick and the others. Nick felt his stomach drop as the realization sank in. They were trapped on the island with no way to communicate with the outside world, possibly for days. And there could very well be a murderer among them.

He took a deep breath and let it out, grumbling to himself. “I’m going to fucking die in Scotland.”

Zane sat quietly in an office chair through a brief debate over whether the wedding festivities should carry on as planned, or if the guests should be told of the murder and the loss of the island’s launches. Ty and Nick argued first with the Snake Eaters and then with each other over which avenue would be most expedient for keeping everyone safe. Kelly was still with Livi and Amelia, or Zane was sure Kelly would have been able to keep things calmer. As it was, Zane just hung back.

Ty insisted keeping the guests in the dark would, at least for a little while, prevent a mass panic and allow them to try to find a solution in relative peace. Nick was adamant that people in danger deserved to know they were in danger, and steps could be taken to protect them and convince them to cooperate.

Zane felt like he was witnessing the core of why Ty and Nick had always made a good team. They were very yin and yang.

Finally, Nick pointed out that word would get around despite their attempts to keep it quiet because most of the island’s staff had seen the body. “Rumors are always worse than truth, and once they start, we won’t be able to get people to trust us when we try to start sharing truth with them.”