Dangerous Waters (24 page)

Back in the hotel, Holly was working through the list of people from the village who had solid alibis for last night. The vast majority of folks at the marine lab were accounted for, although not everyone. Thomas Edgefield didn’t have an alibi; neither did Rob Fitzgerald, Gladys, or half a dozen others. Still, it felt good to knock a few people off the list of potential murderers—assuming the killer was a local. She was looking to see if they could get any information from cell towers that might pin down locations of the others. Unfortunately, the fire brigade hadn’t been called until twelve thirty, which gave all of those volunteers thirty minutes in which to commit the murder, so none of those guys were necessarily in the clear. The arson investigator couldn’t say for certain if the fire was started deliberately or not, but it had all the feel of a diversion.

“We finally got records from the phone company who confirmed there was a call to Brent Carver at nine thirteen in the morning. It came from the public call box in town,” Messenger shouted out to her and Furlong, who grunted. They were working in the lounge.

“See if we can get a warrant for all the calls made from that call box. Outgoing and incoming,” said Holly. In the age of cell phones, public pay phones were often overlooked. “Call IFIS and get a technician back here to see if we can get any DNA or fingerprints that might give us an ID on who made that call.” She checked her watch; she was exhausted but couldn’t afford to slow down or take a break.

“Get Chastain and Malone to guard it until the tech gets there. It won’t do much good in court, but it might give us a name,” Furlong muttered, running his fingers through salt-and-pepper hair. There were loaded bags under his eyes. Everyone on the team was starting to look hollow-eyed with fatigue. “We need a break in this case.”

Holly looked up. “You don’t fancy Brent Carver for this one?”

His mouth twisted. “Before we found the knife I’d thought he was a good bet, but what sort of asshole leaves a bloody murder weapon on his frickin’ bed? Doesn’t fly, and it stinks of a setup.”

“Unless it’s a bluff.”

He laughed. “You need balls of steel to make that bluff, and no one likes prison that much, especially not this guy. I’m thinking we need to identify Gina Swartz’s lover as a person of interest, but the lab is swamped. I tried strong-arming them earlier.” He had the grace to look sheepish. “Didn’t work. What can I say? I’m an ass sometimes.” The look in his eyes was almost haunted.

Still, she wasn’t about to feel sorry for him. Or tell him the local lab didn’t have those particular samples. Instead, she went out the front of the hotel and called Cassy to see how it was going.

“I’m getting there, but no matter how brilliant I am, I still have to give it a few hours in the PCR machine. I found skin cells and semen.” She sounded excited. The nerd. “I also tested different blood drops. Amazing how much people leave behind on a sheet when they have sex.”

Especially when one of them ends up dead
.

“How long do you think before you can start trying to type it?”

“I’m going to go grab a couple of hours’ sleep while it amplifies and then come in early to get this started before I start my real shift—”

“Thank you
so
much.”

“I’m sending flight details and a list of hotels to you as soon as I finish this, BTW. Three full days, got it?”

“I’ve got it. Your birthday is coming up next month, right?”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Cassy didn’t want to be thirty. But she brightened. “NYC will be a great place to take my mind off it.”

Holly hung up, glad to have pulled this particular string. She jumped an inch off the ground when she realized Rachel Messenger was standing in the darkness just a few feet away.

“Sorry,” Messenger said quickly. She looked over her shoulder. “I just found out something about the knife,” she whispered.

“What?” Holly frowned and stepped toward her. Her heart started a slow pound. Whatever it was didn’t sound good. Messenger motioned her to come closer. She was acting weird, and Holly hated people who acted weird.

“What is it?”

“The hotline got a tip about who the knife belonged to and passed the message on to me.”

Holly crossed her arms. “Who?”

“Thomas Edgefield.” Messenger’s eyes ping-ponged off the entrance.

“Shit.” Holly’s jaw locked.

“I’ve also got a record of him purchasing a new knife in Tofino the day before Milbank was killed.”

Finn had lied to her. Holly firmed her lips together. Anger was flowing along her veins, and she didn’t want it to escape yet.

“But the most interesting thing is this. I listened to the call, and I recognized the voice of the guy leaving the tip.”

“Who was it?” Holly snapped.

“Rob Fitzgerald. Finn Carver’s assistant.”

She mulled it over. Either Rob was being a concerned citizen while trying to not lose his job or he was trying to pin the murder on Edgefield, which meant maybe he was involved. “I want you to dig into Rob Fitzgerald’s background. Everything from phone records to financials.” She looked across the inlet, the anger gaining ground now. Searing her skin. Simmering inside her heart. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Where are you going?” Messenger asked.

“I’m going to re-interview Edgefield and Carver about that knife. Let’s figure out exactly who is lying about what before we tell the boss.”

Rachel nodded rapidly. “I won’t say anything. Just report in, OK?”

Holly snorted. Messenger was worried about her. She tapped her Smith & Wesson. “I’ve got you on speed dial. But don’t worry, I can take care of myself.”

Finn sat on his deck sinking a cold one. He’d had bad days in his life, plenty of them, but they never got any easier. First finding Gina dead, fighting with Holly, and seeing Brent carted away like some piece-of-shit criminal. He clenched his fist and held back the fury that burned through his veins.

Idiot
. Getting close to Holly after he’d told himself not to. And what had happened? Within hours of figuring out he cared about her, his brother was sitting in an eight-by-eight cell. He tipped back the beer and downed the lot. Christ. Emotions burned his eyes, but he didn’t cry. He wasn’t that stupid little kid anymore. He would fix this.

Boots stomped up the stairs. About goddamn time. He flipped the cap off another bottle and leaned back in his chair, letting his gaze rove insolently over her body. Because he didn’t have anything to lose anymore, and pissing her off was a bonus.

She leaned down until they were eye level, hers as hot as lava. Her teeth didn’t move as she ground out, “You lied to me about the knife.”

He went dizzy for a moment. He’d forgotten he did have something else to lose. Thom.

He stood, forcing her to take a step back. He opened his door and dragged her into his living room. This was not a conversation he wanted anyone to overhear.

“Let me go.”

He dropped her arm like a stone. “How did you find out about the knife?” And what exactly did she know?

Anger rolled off her in waves. Well, hell, they were even. “That’s classified information. Tell me about the knife.”

Shit shit shit
.

“Fine. The knife was Thom’s old dive knife. He said it went missing a couple of weeks ago.” He dragged his hands through his hair. “Anyone could have taken it out of his locker. We don’t lock them up, and even if we did, it—”

“I understand that.” He watched the line of her throat ripple as she worked to clamp down on what she really wanted to say. “What I don’t understand is that when I asked you about that knife, you lied.”

“Thom wasn’t involved in Milbank’s murder, but if you’d known his knife was the murder weapon you’d have hauled him in for questioning the same way you hauled in Brent.”

“With good cause—”

“My brother would never lay a hand on Gina!” He always kept control of his temper. Always. But right now he was ready to punch the wall. “You already eliminated us from Milbank’s murder because of the timeline. I. Did. You. A. Favor.”

“Impeding a police investigation is an offense.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance. He held his wrists together in the moonlit room. “Then why don’t you arrest me?”

“You’re impossible.” She whirled away, stalked back. “What else have you been lying to me about?”

He pressed his lips tightly together. He didn’t believe Brent had killed anyone, but he wasn’t giving the cops fodder to make a circumstantial case against him.

“If you know anything, Finn, you
have
to tell me.”

“I don’t know anything.” He went to the sink and filled a glass with water, downed it, and filled it again. Heard the fat drip of rain as the sky finally unleashed the storm it had been promising all day. “Except Thom and Brent are not killers.”

“Where is he, the professor?” She followed him and leaned against the counter.

He was hyperaware of them being alone together. Cocooned as the lightning flashed across the sky. His anger left him feeling raw and exposed. Emotions pulsing too close to the surface.

“He’s staying with Laura Prescott, Brent’s
attorney
, in Port Alberni until they get him released.” Thunder boomed, making the windows shudder in response. “No way would Brent risk going back to prison. He said he hadn’t seen Milbank in months.”

“And I thought you hadn’t spoken to Brent?” she said archly.

She was sharp. He’d give her that. Slowly the rage was filtering out of his body, leaving him tired and angry. “I went to speak to him after I found that body in the wreck. I asked if he’d heard anything.”

“Had he?”

“Only that someone was asking after Milbank.”

She hissed. “So you knew the identity of the body before we did?” The skin around her mouth went white.

Finn rested his hand on her shoulder. “It wasn’t like that.”

She shook him off. “Then what was it like?”

He took a breath. Looked for his Zen mode and found it pretty damn elusive in Holly’s company. “I suspected it might be Milbank because Remy was looking for him and the size of the body was about right. That’s all I knew. That it
might
be Milbank.”

She turned away from him. “Did you tell Gina Swartz about the shipwreck?”

Shock jolted through him. “No. No! She was in the library, but I didn’t talk to her about it. If you want to keep something a secret in this town, you don’t tell a damn soul.”

“Could she have seen what you were doing?”

“No.” He shook his head and then froze. “Shit.” He swallowed. “I left to get a book out of the main library—the side room near the front door. When I got back, she was in her seat after getting back from lunch.” He closed his eyes, trying to visualize the moment. “I had a list of local shipwrecks on the PC and a large map of Crow Point spread out.”

He dropped the glass and it shattered in the sink. “Did I get Gina killed?”

Holly grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the glittering shards. “Careful, I’ll help you clear that up.”

He jerked his hand away. Lightning lit up the sky and thunder boomed. “Is it my fault she’s dead?”

Finn towered over her, dark and threatening, but somehow she knew he’d never hurt her. How the hell did she know that? Was she psychic or just plain old-fashioned stupid?

“You didn’t kill her, Finn. Whoever planted that knife in her chest killed her.”

“But it’s my fault she died.” The fury inside him was a palpable thing, like a tiger trapped beneath the surface of his skin.

“You can help me catch her killer. You know these people.”

“No one I know would butcher Gina like a piece of meat.” She wanted to comfort him but did not dare touch. He was so beautiful she ached just looking at him, all blond, scruffy, and gorgeous. The planes of his face were sharp in the dim light. Shoulders broad enough to carry more than their fair share of trouble. And he did. She knew he did.

There was a solid core of honor and compassion that ran through him that propelled attractive into irresistible. She wanted to reach out and test the strength in those arms, feel the hardness of his chest pressed against the softness of hers. Her body was on fire, and it made it hard to breathe, let alone think.

“What do you want from me? A meaningless apology for something I’d do again?” he asked.

What she really wanted was to feel the rough scrape of stubble over her naked skin. Not exactly appropriate. She stalked away.

“So I lied about the knife—big deal.”

It
was
a big deal. She threw up her hands. “Don’t tell me we suck at our jobs when everyone thinks it’s OK to lie to us.” All she wanted to do was catch a killer and get the hell out of this nightmare. Romping with this guy was not on the menu, no matter how hungry he made her. She rested her hands on her hips, remembering she was a professional, a solid cop with a hell of a track record for catching bad guys. “I wanted to tell you your brother hasn’t been charged and is just being held for questioning at this time. He’s OK—”

“OK? O-
fucking
-kay!” He took a step back. “You’ve got him in jail.” Silver sparked in his eyes. Thunder cracked and a bolt of lightning split the night. “He’s already spent one lifetime in that hellhole, it’ll kill him to do more.”

Holly stared up at him, trying to penetrate the fury. “I don’t think he did it,” she said quietly.

“And what about that asshole boss of yours?”

“He doesn’t think he did it either.”

“Seriously?” He stared at her wide-eyed, as if he didn’t believe her. “Then why the hell did you haul him off?”

“He’s a convicted felon, Finn, with a previous sexual relationship with the victim. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t bring him in for questioning.” She clenched her fists and relaxed her jaw. “He’s got a great lawyer, and that knife on the bed shows your brother is either a complete megalomaniacal psychopath or he’s being framed. Cops aren’t stupid, you know.”

His lip curled and he snarled as he turned away.

Because he was hurting, she realized. Because he was in pain, and for some reason that made her hurt too.

He rested his head against his forearm as he leaned against the kitchen wall. “When I saw your boss earlier.” His voice was low and gravelly. “I wanted to take him apart.”

“Join the club.”

He whipped around to face her. “Why did you sleep with him?”

Her mouth went dry.
Christ.
She should tell him to go to hell, but they were involved in something here. Something that didn’t involve police procedure and defied convention. Something elemental and essential. Like blood. And oxygen.

There were plenty of reasons she’d slept with Furlong. Loneliness and foolishness being prime among them. “My mom had just died.”

Muscles bunched in his jaw, and his breath escaped as steam that heated the air around them. The wind started to howl. Trees braced against the onslaught of the storm outside and an equal storm battered her senses, weakening her defenses. She swallowed uneasily. “I needed someone to hold me.”

“Bad choice.”

“Yeah, bad choice.” Her heart stuttered. “I don’t usually make mistakes.” She stepped forward and placed her hands on his chest.

His hands gripped her waist, and it wasn’t a gentle caress. The heat of his touch burned through the thin layer of her uniform shirt. “Am I another mistake, Holly?” His voice was a whisper against her lips. His eyes were like fire against her soul.

She shook her head and stood on tiptoes, needing just one kiss. Her fingers sank into his hair, and suddenly she was pressed up snug against his lean, hard body as she caught his lips with her own. She ran her tongue lightly over the seam and then, just as she was about to pull away, he slanted his mouth over hers and plunged.

Oh, hell
. Desire ignited along her veins, and she sank both hands into his hair, dragging him closer, absorbing every detail of their kiss—the essence, the sensuality, the unexpected tenderness. Her knees shook. He tasted like magic. Like someone had cast a spell of enchantment over her, making her want him with every particle of her being. She felt drunk, or drugged on nothing more than a simple kiss that was as complex as the universe.

It’s just a kiss, Holly.

The hard planes of his body felt solid and strong against the softness of hers. His hands slipped into the waistband of her pants and cupped her bottom, pulling her up against the firm ridge of his zipper. Fireworks exploded through her at the contact.

Busy fingers undid tiny buttons on her shirt with more dexterity than she could manage even when she wasn’t burning from the inside out. He pulled it off her shoulders, impatiently found the clasp of her bra, and the cool air wafting over her flesh told her she was naked from the top down. His fingertips fluttered over the faded bruises, and for a moment she thought he was going to stop. “Does it hurt?”

She shook her head, unable to speak.

He stripped off his T-shirt, and Holly slid enthralled fingers up the solid slabs of muscle, scraping a fingernail up over bumpy abs, then over first one nipple and then the other. She watched the slide of his throat as he swallowed. Eyes, colorless in the night, but no less intense, watched her with a combustible heat—fire waiting for oxygen.

His mouth dropped to her breast, soft hair brushing her skin an instant before pleasure shot through her. He sucked deeply, swirling her nipple with his tongue as his fingers plucked and played with its mate.

The sensation was so incredible, so erotic and magnetic. Her head spun, and the gentle rocking motion he made with his thigh had her so desperate to have him inside her she was rubbing against him with the need to get closer. Her fingers found his zipper, and she eased it carefully down, admiring the length and width of him as he sprang into her palm.
Oh, god.
She hummed as she ran her fingers up and down and around him until she could feel heat start to build just beneath the surface of his skin.

He undid her belt, top button of her uniform pants, and slid the zipper down. She bent her legs against the wall so she could undo her boots, first one foot, then the other. The weight of the equipment belt took the trousers the rest of the way to the floor. She kicked out of them and her shoes and stood there in nothing more than her panties and a splash of moonlight. The storm lashed against the windows with indignant fury, leaving them isolated in the darkness. Finn moved closer, spreading her thighs with the sheer bulk of his.

There was a tiny voice at the back of her mind whispering that she shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be doing this. Then she watched him shuck his jeans, grab a condom out of his wallet, and the little voice was roped, gagged, and sidelined into oblivion. He stripped off her nothing panties, lifted her onto the kitchen counter, and she gasped as the cold surface connected with her bare skin. He smiled and kissed her again. Long, slow, mesmerizing kisses. His fingers touched her everywhere, driving her up, driving her wild until she was panting and writhing, wanting him closer, wanting him buried deep inside her.

She picked up the condom from beside her hip and rolled it over his thick length. A fine shudder ran through his body, and she was relieved to know her touch affected him too. He positioned himself against her, the swollen head of him big and bold. She tried to move toward him, but he wouldn’t let her. He leaned down and ran his tongue between her breasts before closing once more over her nipple. Her toes curled, and she sank back against the wall, trembling and so turned on she was going to melt. She could feel him, right there, his body straining with the need to be inside her. It had been a long time for her, but she didn’t remember ever losing control before, didn’t remember being so frantic.

“Tell me I’m not a mistake.”

Her throat went dry when she realized what he was asking and why he was asking it right now. Because she could still change her mind, because she hadn’t totally crossed the line. Yet.

But she didn’t care about the line. She sank her fist into his hair and dragged him closer, wrapped her legs around his hips and brought just the thick tip of him inside her. Muscles started to clench, needy, grasping, wanting him to fill her, wanting to take him deep.

“Tell me,” he demanded, not moving an inch even as the tendons in his neck grew taut.

“You’re not a mistake.”

He took hold of her hips and thrust deep and hard, and every color of the rainbow shattered inside her mind. She moaned, and he captured the sound with an openmouthed kiss that drew her into him again. He pulled her to the edge of the counter, straining to get deeper. Sweat coated both their bodies. Skin about to ignite. He moved in and out of her wet heat, but he couldn’t get all the way inside her, and it was killing them both.

“Do you trust me?” He rested his head on her forehead.

She almost laughed except she couldn’t find the breath. She was naked on the guy’s kitchen counter. Her gun and Taser on the floor, and he was asking if she trusted him?

He pulled out and she gritted her teeth with frustration. Then he flipped her, and she yelped as cold Formica connected with her stomach and breasts. Then heat spread slowly over her body as inch by inch he toed her legs wider apart.
Oh
…

“Tell me if you hurt,
at all
,” he ordered roughly.

She swallowed.
Whoa
. She felt exposed and vulnerable and so turned on it was like being in some erotic movie. His breath was in her ear as his chest curled over her back. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve met, did you know that?”

She felt the prickle of the hair on his thighs against hers, felt the engorged head of his penis as he probed her hot, wet core.

“I’m not beautiful,” she denied. She sucked in a gasp, and suddenly he was filling her, deeper than before, and she didn’t care about being beautiful or any other damned coherent thought. So deep, he filled every corner of her body and mind with the sort of mind-altering pleasure that robbed her of speech and brainpower. He was gentle, sliding in and out with long, smooth strokes that built a tangle of need inside her until she was writhing and panting and clutching at his thighs with her fingernails. “More.”

He laughed, breath hot as dragon’s breath over her neck as he ran his tongue down her spine. And then, finally, he started pumping harder, driving deeper and cupping her breasts as he drove and drove and drove, and she was flying again, spinning out of control and shattering into a million pieces of glitter that sparkled like stardust before it too exploded. And she felt his climax pulse through her, and her muscles quivered and rode and milked his orgasm as if it was her own. She collapsed into a mass of boneless jelly and waited for her heart to restart.

It restarted with a bang.