Dangerous Waters (11 page)

Made
him?

She heard footsteps behind them and turned to meet the brown-eyed gaze of Dryzek’s friend from last night.

“Hey,” he stopped midstep, “you’re Finn Carver’s girlfriend.”

Dryzek’s eyes flashed in sudden recognition.

“No, I’m not.” Holly kept her expression neutral and back ramrod straight.

“Carver’s working with the cops?” The light in his eyes turned violent. “Bastard.”

She didn’t want Finn caught up in this, but there wasn’t much she could do about it now. She’d have to warn him to watch his back.

Hammond said nothing, but she was aware of him taking everything in. “I’m Sergeant Holly Rudd, RCMP. Sergeant Hammond here and I have some questions about Len Milbank.”

“You found Len?” the second guy asked. There was a nervous edge to him too. As if he was bracing to run. This could get interesting fast.

She pulled out her spiral notebook. “What’s your name?”

He lowered his chin and stared at his boss. “Gordon Ferdinand. People call me Gordy.”

With the twin diamond ear studs, Holly could see why.

“When was the last time you saw Len Milbank, Mr. Dryzek?”

Remy scratched his head. “About a week ago.”

“Can you be more exact?”

Dryzek shook his head. “Not really. I don’t remember.”

Holly leaned forward. “Where did you see him?”

“Down at the club.” Dryzek licked his lips. “Why does that matter?”

“Last night in the bar, you told Finn Carver you’d lost something. What was it?”

“You working undercover or something?” He looked her up and down, unconvinced, then crossed his arms over his chest and seemed to be thinking about his answer. “I went looking for Len,” he said finally.

“Why?” Holly pushed.

“I’m worried about him. He has a tendency to get into trouble if I don’t watch out for him.” Dryzek pushed to his feet. “Enough of the questions. Where’s Len being held? Did he call a lawyer yet?”

Dryzek was worried that Len might tell them something. It was a damned shame he couldn’t tell them anything at all.

“Len Milbank is dead, Mr. Dryzek.”

“What the fuck?” His eyes widened and he sank back into his seat. “Shit.”

“Carver,” Ferdinand said vehemently. Holly frowned.

“When did he die? Where did you find him?” Dryzek demanded.

She hesitated. “We’re not sure exactly of the time of death—that’s why we need to figure out his final movements.”

Dryzek’s eyes darted around the desk but finally settled on his clenched fists that rested there. “I want to know everything the police find out.” His voice was low and angry. No more pretense.

“You said ‘Carver’?” Holly said to Gordy Ferdinand. “Why did you say that?”

But the two men were looking at each other, staring hard into the other’s eyes, and Holly knew two things. One, they hadn’t known Len was dead until she’d told them. Two, they weren’t going to say another word.

“If you know anything, you need to talk to the police. Obstructing a homicide investigation is a criminal offense.”

Dryzek’s fingers tightened but he didn’t speak.

She exchanged a look with Hammond, who shrugged. She took out a business card and slid it across the desk toward the crime boss. “If you have any information…”

He looked up into her eyes, but all traces of warm host were gone. “Len had no next-of-kin. You’ll keep me informed and let me know when I can have his body for burial? And his personal effects.”

“We’ll need to confirm he doesn’t have any family and then we’ll get back to you.”

Gordy Ferdinand climbed to his feet.

“Did you search Len Milbank’s house last night?” Holly asked.

“No.” The nod of his head belied his words. “But we hung out there a lot.” Covering his ass for when they found fingerprints and trace.

“Yeah, I can see why.” Holly glanced around the spacious room with its diamond bright windows, view overlooking the water, pristine carpets, and sumptuous furnishings. Why wouldn’t they watch movies in good old Len’s seedy dive? “Did Milbank have something of yours, Mr. Dryzek?”

Dryzek rose slowly to his feet and she shifted position, her expression remaining hard and blank. Twelve years on the force and she didn’t scare easy.

“Len Milbank was a good friend. I’d appreciate some time alone to grieve his death. You have more questions, you give me a call—or ask that boyfriend of yours. He probably knows all about it.”

Jeez. She did not like those insinuations on any level. She and Hammond showed themselves out, their footsteps echoing loudly through the luxury mansion. “That got us exactly nowhere.”

“Guys like Dryzek know the ropes and don’t trip up easy, but the surprise looked genuine when he heard Milbank was dead,” said Hammond. He’d been exceedingly quiet in there. Letting her run her own investigation or giving her enough rope to hang herself? She settled into the passenger seat of his car to hitch a ride back to the station. “We’ve got no suspects and no motive.”

“He was pretty anxious to find Milbank. Something tells me love and compassion weren’t the reasons behind it. Len Milbank either had something of his or he was a threat in some way. I’ll put out some feelers; see what I can come up with. Somebody somewhere knows something.” Hammond maneuvered around the quiet streets of Port Alberni and Holly blew out a tired breath.

“And all we’ve got to do is pry loose those secrets.” She said it with her trademark smile, but inside she felt daunted. Secrets were the thing the people of Bamfield seemed to guard most avidly.

The scenery was great—if you liked dirt, trees, and dust.

Holly was on her way back to Bamfield, a bone-jarring trip on supposedly well-maintained logging roads from Port Alberni. She kept her eye on the tiny red mile markers, aware that if she took a wrong turn it could take her a week to find her way out of the vast wilderness. Furlong would
love
that. She hung on tight to the steering wheel as a massive crater almost wrenched it out of her hands. Deep ruts in the gravel meant the seventy-five-kilometer route took two hours to drive.

“Ah, crap.” She squeezed over to the far lip of the road and slowed down to a crawl as another enormous trailer-towing logging truck bore down on her. The powerful monster swept past, showering her with dust and stones in its wake. For long seconds she could see nothing, so she sat tight, hating how her heart accelerated from the rush of adrenaline. She gave it another ten seconds for the dust trail to clear and pulled back out onto the dirt road.

Steffie had changed her mind about coming back to Bamfield tonight. The IFIS team had turned up a mass of possible evidence at Milbank’s apartment, and she wanted to make sure it was all catalogued correctly before she rejoined the command group.

They’d made good progress today, but were still a long way from catching the killer—or even establishing a solid motive.

She picked up her cell phone to call Jeff Winslow, then swore. No signal. Another cloud of dust appeared in her rearview, warning that another vehicle was hurtling down the road on a death wish. She kept going, slowing down, nudging as far right as she dared, a sharp drop-off just a few feet away on the edge of a thousand square miles of forest.

“Slow down, you moron.” She glared into the mirror at the driver of a massive black truck. He wore a ball cap and dark glasses. Her attention was snagged by another cloud of dust up ahead as she approached a single-lane bridge. She judged the distance and figured she had time to cross before the logging truck arrived, so she sped up, jostling as she hit a rut. The truck in her rearview accelerated rapidly and kissed her bumper as she hit the middle of the bridge. The steering wheel jerked out of her fingers, but she grabbed it and fought frantically, accelerating to get off the bridge before the logging lorry that was barreling down the hill squashed her like a fly. Sparks flashed in her peripheral vision as she struck the guardrail. The logging truck blasted its horn as she and the truck cleared the narrow bridge. Holly’s heart thundered, sweat dripping off her forehead as the truck nudged her bumper again. She craned her neck to try to make out a plate.

The whack job was going to pay for this. What the hell was he on?

No time to radio for backup. She needed both hands on the wheel. She slammed on the brakes, but the driver of the truck anticipated the move and sped up and smashed into her rear end, twisting her vehicle until it came to a sharp halt in a massive cloud of dust and grit, square across the road. Airbags punched her in the face and thrust her back against the seat. She scrambled to find her seat belt release and her gun, but her fingers weren’t working properly and the damn release mechanism was stiff and uncooperative.

Then the sound of a revving engine grabbed her attention. Terror screamed along her nerves as her fingers struggled futilely with the restraints. The truck slammed into her from behind. Rocking the SUV violently, it bulldozed her to the edge of the road. The SUV hung suspended for a breath-stealing moment, then tumbled, gaining momentum as it raced down the bank and into the brittle arms of the uncut forest.

Finn put his foot down, wanting to get home before dusk descended and the wildlife came out on the road and put a crimp in more than the occasional fender. He’d picked up his and Thom’s dive equipment from the cop shop. A small rebellious part of him had hoped to see Holly, but she hadn’t appeared and he’d had other things to do besides hang around a police station trying to score another kiss. She’d arrest him if she knew some of the thoughts he’d been having.

The backup compressor had blown a seal a few days ago and he’d used the trip to pick up the spare parts. Rob had taken out a small party of experienced divers that afternoon, but tomorrow was jam-packed with novices’ first open-water dives. A big day. He rubbed his eyes. He was tired and still had a few hours of work to do when he got back to the marine lab.

Still, busy beat brooding.

Dust trails told him several vehicles had passed this way within the last few minutes. It hadn’t rained all week—a minor miracle on the west coast—and that always made the conditions worse. He frowned at the skid marks on the bridge. It never failed to amaze him how boneheaded stupid people could be and that these people were legally allowed to reproduce. He shook his head as the skid marks continued.

Ah, shit
. It looked like someone had gone off the road here. Finn pulled over to the side, away from the dangerous bend. A sense of foreboding warned him that he was about to find his second body of the week. Although the last thing he wanted to do was look at more carnage, he couldn’t very well walk away without checking for survivors.

He started into the bush and then down the steep incline. Branches were brutally shorn off and a deep furrow scraped through the unstable soil.

He pushed past some thick fir trees and caught a glimpse of something white in the bush down below. The chance of finding survivors was slim. His nose caught a whiff of something else—gasoline, probably leaking from a ruptured gas tank. The slightest spark could start a fire. He started running, slipping and sliding past the massive tree trunks.

Catching a clearer glimpse of the vehicle, Finn’s blood turned to ice and his heart pounded like a fresh recruit. The RCMP SUV was upside down, nose wrapped around the trunk of a big old spruce, tires spinning like a kid’s toy. The hiss of steam was the only sound in the vast forest. He skidded to a halt beside the driver’s door and peered inside, past the deflated airbags. He’d expected blood and broken bones. Expected his worst nightmare. But it was empty. There was no one there.

He spun, searching for a blood trail, and worked his way back up the hillside. Then he spotted something dark lying unmoving in the low brush, and he sprinted up the slope.

Holly, covered in blood.

Absolute terror shot through his veins as he ran to her side.

“Jesus. What did you do to yourself?” He squatted beside her, checked her breath and pulse. Her skin was warm. Pulse fluttering steadily beneath his fingers. Alive. Thank god she was alive. He moved her hair off her forehead to look for injuries.
Dammit
. He was torn about what to do. He couldn’t risk moving her. Couldn’t risk leaving her behind.

“Holly?” Most of the blood seemed to have come from her nose. Smears covered her chin and shirt, but he knew from experience it probably looked worse than it was. “Can you hear me?” He touched her shoulder gently, and she groaned and started coughing. It was the best sound he’d ever heard. “Steady. Steady now.”

He held onto her lightly so she didn’t try to get up.

“F-Finn?”

Relief punched his heart. Her gray eyes were cloudy with confusion, the surrounding flesh already starting to swell.

“Yeah, it’s me. What the hell happened?”

“Someone ran me off the road.”

Anger seared his flesh. She grimaced as she tried to raise her arm.

“Don’t move.” He ran his hands over her limbs to reassure himself she hadn’t broken anything. “Are you saying someone did this on purpose?”

She pushed his hands aside and sat up, squeezing her eyes shut, clearly in pain. When she opened them again, she stared down at the wreck at the bottom of the hill. “Holy crap.”

Finn stared too. “You’re lucky you’re not dead.”
Christ
, his hands trembled as he tried to examine her injuries. He was shocked at how much this totally freaked him out. Despite everything he’d told himself, the cop had slipped under his skin like a damn sliver.

“How’d you find me?” She pulled away slightly.

Finn didn’t like the suspicion that darkened her gaze but understood the nature of the beast. Why should she trust anyone after what she’d just been through? “I saw skid marks on the bridge; ground was churned up enough I knew someone had veered off the road. Are you all right?”

“No. Help me stand, will you?”

“You shouldn’t try to move. I can go for help. Get an ambulance out here.” But it would take hours and it was almost dark.

She shook her head, but then grabbed her skull. “I managed to throw myself out of the cab before it rolled and crashed. I didn’t hit anything harder than the ground and the airbag.” She touched her nose. “But that hurt like hell.”

Her cap was gone. Long dark hair strung around her face, which was a mess of stark white skin streaked with dirty crimson. Fuck.

“We need to get you up onto the road and get a crew out here to deal with the wreck.”

“That’s evidence of the attempted murder of a police officer.” Holly pointed at the SUV, her movements shaky. “IFIS need to process it before anyone else touches it.”

“As long as it doesn’t set the whole place on fire, they can do whatever the hell they want.” Finn didn’t care. “Let’s get you out of here.” He eyed the steep incline. Before she could protest, he eased her cautiously into his arms and started the difficult ascent. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and it shouldn’t have filled him with anything except relief.

Holly Rudd stirred dangerous feelings inside him, feelings he wasn’t used to and did not want. The fact she’d almost died in a car wreck—caused by some frickin’ maniac—frayed his usually rock-solid composure. He’d wished her far away from Bamfield and out of his life. But not like that. Never like that.

At the top of the bank he stepped onto the road, breathing heavily, and carried her to his truck. He let go of her legs and leaned her gently against the passenger door. “How do you feel?” Christ, her color looked awful, and she was going to sport one if not two black eyes.

“It’s red.” Her voice broke and she sagged with whole-body relief.

He squinted at her, wondering how hard she’d hit her head.

“Your truck. It’s red.” She grinned at him, and although she looked like shit, it was probably the most genuine smile she’d ever given him.

“Yeah.” He leaned over and opened the door for her. “It’s always been red.”

“The truck that ran me off the road was black.”

OK
. “How do you feel? Any pain? Any sickness?” He stared at her pupils, watched them react to the light. So far so good.

“Don’t you get it? I know you weren’t the person who ran me off the road.”

He squeezed her shoulders carefully and smiled down at her. “
I
already knew that. Do you think I’m the kind of man to run
anyone
off the road?”

Her lips opened. Then she blinked away a sudden shimmer of tears and shook her head. “I’m just used to needing proof, not relying on instincts.”

“I’m beginning to think your instincts are pretty damn good, if only you trusted them.” He leaned down and, for some crazy reason, kissed her forehead before helping her into the truck. He would never hurt a woman. He would especially never hurt Holly. As confessions went, it was a dangerous one, so he kept it to himself. It wasn’t his own secrets he was guarding. And no matter what, he could not afford to get close to this woman.

If circumstances had been different, Holly Rudd might have made quite the impact on his life and his heart. Thinking about the strain lining Thom’s face, maybe it was just as well things weren’t different. Heartbreak wasn’t pretty.

Her hands shook as she tried to do up her seat belt. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t found me.”

He already knew that admitting weakness didn’t come easy to her, so he snorted and made light of it. “You’d have crawled up that hill on your hands and knees and flagged down a passing logging truck and demanded to be taken wherever you needed to go.” She had grit and balls. How anyone wouldn’t admire those traits, especially in such a beautiful, if battered, package, he didn’t know. He leaned over and fixed her belt. Tried to quiet the rage that simmered in his blood.

Hell. She was lucky to be alive, and he didn’t want to think about the possibility of internal bleeding or what could have happened if she hadn’t thrown herself out of a vehicle careening at speed down a wooded hillside. And what if the person who’d run her off the road had stopped to finish the job?

Fuck
. He was so angry it was a wonder his skin wasn’t steaming. But Holly didn’t need his macho bullshit. She just needed to be taken care of. The cops could deal with finding whatever asshole had done this. He’d make sure no one got the chance to do it again.

He walked around the nose of the cab and got in. “Now I’m gonna give you a choice.” Because he knew being in charge mattered to her. “The hospital in Bamfield is only twenty minutes away. It doesn’t have all the mod cons of Port Alberni, but it’s got the basics. If there’s a problem, they can call for a chopper evac, which is probably as fast as driving back to Port Alberni from here.” He gave her a flat-eyed smile. “
Or
we can drive back along this road to Port Alberni. What do you want to do?”

“Bamfield.” She braced her hand against the dash. Her breath came in sharp, shallow pants. “I want to get off this damned road as soon as possible.”

Good. “Who knew you were traveling this road alone? Who wanted to get rid of you?”

Her brow crinkled as he put the truck in gear. “A lot of people want to get rid of me—it’s a hazard of the job.” Her voice rasped in her throat. He handed her a bottle of water from the groceries behind his seat, and then grabbed his own.

He passed her his jacket to use as a pillow. “Tell me if you’re hurting and I’ll slow down.” He checked the mirror and pulled out onto the gravel, concentrating on avoiding the worst of the ruts so as not to jar Holly’s injuries, but wanting to get to the clinic as fast as possible. All the time his mind was whirling. Who the hell would want to kill a cop? A woman? Holly?

“I couldn’t see the driver with the sun in my eyes and all that dust flying.”

“It must have scared the shit out of you.”

“It wasn’t my best moment, that’s for damn sure.”

He put his hand on her thigh. Ignored the electricity and tried to give comfort. “Close your eyes. Get some rest.”

She put her hand over his and squeezed; he was disconcerted to feel the sensation echoed in his chest.

“I’m sorry about what happened with Thom this morning. Staff Sergeant Furlong was pissed at me and took it out on the professor,” she said.

“Staff Sergeant Furlong is an asshole.”

She snorted, then winced and grabbed her ribs. “Unfortunately, until I solve this case, he’s also my boss.”

“Well, that’s a hell of an incentive to solve the case.”

“It sure is.” She visibly gritted her teeth.

He swallowed a knot of emotion. He wasn’t good with other people’s pain. In his stint in the military he’d seen too many people suffer. It hadn’t taken his fellow soldiers long to figure out that while he was tough on the outside, he was mush in the middle. He might not blink at taking down terrorists or insurgents, but show him a sick kid or injured animal and he was doing everything in his power to help them. Trouble was, nine times out of ten, he couldn’t do a damn thing to help without risking the op. It was one of the reasons he didn’t miss it. He’d loved being a soldier; hated the associated misery.

“Have you always had the hero gene?”

“What?” he asked, confused.

“You know,” she tried to smile, “saving the day, sweeping a girl off her feet?”

He shook his head. “It came to me later in life. God knows I needed saving often enough as a kid.” There was silence in the cab except for the constant rumble of the gravel beneath the tires.

“I saw the photos. Of what he did to you…”

He gripped the wheel tighter. Didn’t want to talk about it. “It was a long time ago.”

“It was during your formative years. You should have turned out to be a complete jerk.”

He dropped his voice to a sexy whisper. “Are you giving me a compliment, Sergeant Rudd?”

She groaned even as she held her side. “I have a head injury. No other way to explain it.”

He grinned, wishing they’d met under normal circumstances, wishing he wasn’t just delivering her to the hospital after someone had tried to ram her into a tree.

Holly closed her eyes. He drove as fast as possible while avoiding bumps in the road and keeping an eye out for deer. They got to the clinic just as the doctor and nurse were leaving.