Tangled Lies (24 page)

“Good morning, Blaze. Can I get you anything?”

“Yeah, you can pack your bags and leave already.”

“That seems a bit harsh at”—she glanced at the black-cat clock with the swishing rhinestone tail—“six forty-five in the morning. Did you want coffee?”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Blaze snapped, opening the refrigerator and taking out a gallon of milk. She reached into a cupboard for a cereal box and a bowl, then added milk to the sugary mess before she faced Sasha across the table.

“I guess I don’t. Will you tell me?” She kept her tone even, calm, trying to figure out what bee the prickly teen had lodged in her ball cap this morning.

“You’ve changed everything. This whole stupid quest. It’s making Mama Rosa cry more, and she and Pop are fighting more. I don’t want to hear them fight. You need to stop this stupid search and go away.”

Sasha sipped her coffee, choosing her words with care.

“But Mama asked me to do this, Blaze. Should I have told her no? Would you?”

Blaze jumped up from her chair. “You could have. She would have listened to you. But now you’re talking to the cops and getting old files and upsetting everybody. Mama has to get better. Don’t you get that?”

“I want her to get better, too. Of course.” She stopped. “Finding out what happened to Tony won’t change her health, Blaze. One way or the other.”

“I know that. I’m not an idiot. But it can’t be good for her to be so worried about it.”

“That’s true. I didn’t know she was worried, though. I thought she was OK with me trying to find answers, no matter what they turned out to be.”

Blaze dumped her cereal in the sink. “Shows what you know.”

Something Blaze said earlier caught Sasha’s attention. “Speaking of those old police files, they seem to have disappeared. You wouldn’t happen to know where they are, would you?”

“I didn’t take them.”

Sasha held her hands up, palms out. “I didn’t say you did. But do you know who might have taken them?”

“Maybe you just lost them in that mess you made upstairs.”

Interesting. So Blaze had been snooping in her room. She stifled a grin. Which is exactly what she would have done at Blaze’s age. Anyone who got shuffled around foster care learned to get information wherever and however they could. That way you weren’t blindsided.

“Help me out here, Blaze? Do you know anything?”

“Even if I did, why should I tell you?”

“Because ultimately, we’re on the same side, you and me. We both love Mama Rosa and Pop, and we both want them to be healthy and happy.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So who wants me to stop the search, besides you?”

“And besides Pop and every single person in this stupid town?” She tugged her ball cap farther down on her head. “He even—” She stopped herself and slammed out the door.

Sasha hurried outside and caught up with her halfway across the yard. “He what?”

Blaze ignored her and kept walking. Sasha reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her. Blaze shook her off, but wouldn’t look at her.

“Talk to me, Blaze. Please.”

“Pop asked you to stop and you won’t.”

Sasha waited as the silence lengthened. Finally she said, “Because Mama asked me to keep going.”

Blaze glanced her way, eyes full of the same pain and confusion Sasha saw in her own eyes when she peered in a mirror.

“Check the fire pit.” The words seemed like they were torn from somewhere deep inside. Then the teen spun on her heel and hurried away, earbuds already in her ears.

Sasha watched her, her own frustration boiling. Did Pop and Mama have any idea the impossible situation they’d put their daughters in?

She turned and marched over to the fire pit. In what passed for winter in Florida, when temps dropped enough to merit a sweatshirt, Sasha and her sisters used to light the fire pit and roast marshmallows and hot dogs and tell ghost stories in the dark. The rest of the year, the fire pit was a handy place to burn branches and other yard debris.

She leaned over the rock-encircled pit and saw several charred tree branches and a big pile of ashes. She looked closer. After a quick glance over her shoulder, she crouched down and fished a yellowish object from the ashes, her heart knowing what it was before her brain completely registered it. She plopped down on her backside and brushed soot from the tiny remnant of the police file Nick had copied for her.

Goose bumps popped out on her skin. If what Blaze had hinted at were true, Pop had taken the file from her Jeep and burned it.

She knew he wanted her to stop the search.

But the familiar question wouldn’t go away. Was there more to it than simply not wanting to upset Mama?

How much more?

Chapter 16

When Jesse arrived at the marina the next morning, still hunched over like an old man, he stopped in the bait shop and was disappointed to see Sasha wasn’t behind the counter. “Morning, Sal. How’re things?”

Sal looked up from an order form and offered a weak smile. “Can’t complain. Nobody wants to hear it anyway, right?”

Jesse laughed as he was meant to, but he could see that worry and sleepless nights were taking a toll.

Sal eyed him and said, “You look like you’ve been keelhauled. Do you feel as bad as you look?”

Jesse nodded. Even that small movement proved painful. “It hurts no matter what I do, so I might as well get some work done.”

“You’re not still planning to race, are you?” Sal’s raised eyebrows left no doubt as to his opinion of that.

“We’ll see,” he said. “Mama Rosa holding her own?” He wasn’t sure how else to word the question.

Pop’s eyes darkened as he nodded. “She’s a tough one, my Rosa. If anyone can beat this thing, she can.”

“I have no doubt of that, Sal. None. Give her my love, would you?”

Sal nodded and rang up Jesse’s purchases. Jesse scooped up his bag and nodded to several captains in line behind him as he went out the door.

Jesse had his head bent over
The Painted Lady
’s engine compartment, ribs screaming while he tried to see if his attackers had wreaked any havoc on the boat, when he heard footsteps on the dock. He knew who it was before he looked up. Her stride, her scent. And Bella’s nails clicking on the boards.

He looked up with a smile. “Hey there, beautiful. How are you?”

“Didn’t expect to see you here this early. And that’s Captain Beautiful to you.” Her own lips curved in a smile, but something seemed off. “Permission to come aboard, sir?”

“Aye, aye.” He studied her as she boarded nimbly, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. He stood slowly as his ribs protested, and turned to her. “What’s wrong?”

Her head snapped in his direction. “Who said anything is wrong?”

“Every bit of your body language.”

“What, you’re a psychologist now?”

“Don’t evade, Sasha. What’s up?”

Her sharp gaze swept the marina, stopping for a moment at each of the boats moored in the slips, as though looking for something. Then she turned around and scanned the parking lot, crowded with pickup trucks pulling boat trailers of every size, description, and vintage.

He wanted to pull her close and wrap his arms around her, kiss a smile back on her face. But he didn’t think she’d appreciate the gesture. Certainly not in full view of everyone in the marina.

When she looked up at him, her eyes were troubled. “I saw something last night and I’m not sure what it means—if it’s something we should be worried about.”

The more she talked about the minisub, the wider his eyes got.

“I’ve heard of those. Seen pictures online. Even had one of our customers in Tampa ask about them once, but I’ve never seen one.”

“It was really cool looking. But why were they sneaking around in the middle of the night with it?”

“That’s an easier answer than you might think. My guess is someone is testing a prototype and doesn’t want anyone to see it before they’ve run it through its paces, so to speak.”

“That was my first thought, too. But in the dark? How much can you reasonably see? Why not launch it from some remote place and test it there?”

“Could be they were trying to see how it behaves at night.” He looked over at Bella, who had curled up on the deck. “What happened to Bella? Why the bandage?”

“She’s fine. Just a little scrape.”

Jesse’s radar twitched. “Right, but how did she get that little scrape?”

Again, Sasha looked around the marina before she answered. “When they went to load the minisub onto the trailer, Bella made a racket, which they took exception to.”

He carefully folded his arms over his chest. And waited.

Sasha glanced at him, fidgeted, checked the marina. Finally she said, “They tried to shoot her, with an arrow.”

For a moment he didn’t think he’d heard right. But one look at Sasha’s face and he knew he had. He bit back several choice words and stepped even closer. “Is she OK?”

“It just grazed her. She’s fine.”

He took her chin in his hand. “And did they hit you anywhere you’re not telling me?”

This time, she met his gaze squarely. “No. Bella and I hid under the docks until they left.”

Just thinking about someone stalking them in the dark with a bow and arrow made him want to smack something. Perhaps it was due to the pain meds, but it took him a minute to realize what she hadn’t said.

“They know you were out here.”

She tried for a careless shrug. “Yeah. Wouldn’t be hard to identify Bella or me.”

Now he scanned the marina, too, but no one seemed to be paying them the slightest bit of attention. “Did you get a license plate or anything on the truck? Description of the driver? Anything?”

She shook her head. “Believe me, I tried. They had all the lights off on the truck, trailer, and the little sub.” She took a deep breath. “And the guy with the bow had a stocking or something over his face.”

“So they were making sure no one could identify them.” That changed everything. Somebody just testing a prototype wouldn’t hide their faces. Someone was up to no good out here. “You need to be—”

Sasha hopped off the boat. “I know. I have to go.”

Before he could stop her, she and Bella were gone.

Either she wasn’t taking this seriously or, and this was more likely, she didn’t want to worry him, so she’d downplayed the whole thing. Well, his ribs might’ve felt like someone had taken a saw to them, but he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Like it or not, he’d protect her. Whether she wanted protection or not.

Sasha waited over an hour before she could say what she’d come to say. Every time she opened her mouth, someone else popped into the shop or the phone rang. Finally the last of the customers walked out, and she followed Pop into his office and closed the door. He looked up in surprise, then settled in his sagging desk chair.

“What’s wrong, Sasha?”

She’d never thought of herself as all that easy to read, but twice in the space of an hour she’d given her emotions away. She sat in the seat opposite the desk and tried to ask the question the right way, instead of just blurting it out.

“Look, Pop, I know you want me to stop looking for Tony.”

When he opened his mouth, she held up a hand to stop him. “I know all the reasons. I don’t agree with you, but I get it.” She paused, watched his face. “I found the burned ashes of the police report.” Pop’s eyes widened, but other than that, he didn’t react. “Did you burn them?”

He nodded once. Looked away. “Sometimes, the past needs to stay in the past. For everyone’s sake.”

Sasha studied him. “What are you afraid of, Pop?”

He started as though she’d slapped him, then he narrowed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

“I’m afraid of exactly what I told you before, Sasha. Mama has been through enough. You weren’t here then, to see her waste away, hiding in her room crying day and night. I almost lost her, too. I won’t risk that again. Why is that so hard to understand?”

“It’s not hard to understand.” She paused. “If it were true.”

His palm came down on the desk and made her jump. “Now I’m a liar?”

Sasha’s frustration slipped its leash, and she hopped from her chair and leaned over the desk. “I’ve never thought you were a liar. But I think there is a whole lot of this story that you know—or that you suspect—that you won’t say.” She stopped as another thought struck. “You know who took Tony?” she whispered.

She watched all the color drain from Pop’s face, and then his whole body seemed to fold in on itself as he let out a huge sigh. “I don’t think he was kidnapped. I think he’s dead. There is no other explanation that makes sense.”

“A whole lot of this doesn’t make any sense at all.” She studied his face, tried to see beyond the fatigue to what he was really thinking, but he’d put up a wall she couldn’t penetrate. “Pop, what if he’s not dead? What if someone took him?”

“If that’s true, then what? We show up now that he’s a man and turn his world upside down?”

“Don’t you want to know for sure?” Sasha didn’t understand his thinking at all.

“I am satisfied with the police report that says
suspected drowning
.” He pierced her with a look that could always get her to spill her secrets years ago. “Tell Mama you’ve tried and come up with nothing—which is true.”

“I can’t. There are too many holes in the whole scenario, too many other possible answers. The police quit looking much too soon.”

“Because I told them to.”

Sasha’s mouth dropped open, and it took a stunned moment before she found words. “He was your son. Weren’t you at least curious, never mind completely desperate, to find out exactly what happened?”

“He was gone. There was nothing left to know. Besides, curiosity killed the cat.” He stood. “Go, Sasha. It’s done. Don’t bring it up again.”

Sasha stood frozen, unable to move. She studied his shuttered expression and wondered if she’d ever known him at all. The Pop she grew up with would have moved heaven and earth if something had happened to her or one of her sisters.

She walked to the door and glanced over her shoulder to see him sitting with his head in his hands, just like people said he did the day Tony disappeared.

As she walked out, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly clicked into place. Fear and frustration propelled her to the end of the dock where she paced, heart pounding, as she tried to settle her racing thoughts. Time lost all meaning as one thought repeated over and over in her mind, settled deep in her heart.
He knows. He knows who killed Tony. Or who took him.
It was the only explanation that made any sense.

Why wasn’t he telling? Why wasn’t he screaming from the rooftops for justice? What—or who—had kept him silent all these years?

She didn’t know. But she was going to find out.