Wicked Tempest: A Kate Waters Mystery (Kate Waters Mysteries Book 2) (6 page)

For Matt
. Nick shoved his foot at the door as hard as he could. His foot slipped and broke through. Heavily filtered light shined through, dim as an eclipse, but enough to see shadows, to tell the difference between the inside of the ship and outside of it in the deep. Water surged around him as the momentum of the ship’s plummet pulled him with it. He pushed his arms and legs against the current as hard as he could, struggling to swim horizontal and out of the current of the sinking ship. The bag at his waist slowed him down, but he couldn’t release it, not now that he had escaped and was almost free.

A long shadow soared at him, the mast of the ship. The wrought-iron tip clipped the side of his head and tore off his mask. Nick grabbed for his regulator, making sure it didn’t dislodge from his mouth again. The light-headedness of decompression sickness washed into him. He had to ascend slowly to avoid getting the bends, but he was nearly out of air. Not knowing how much farther he had to go, he judged time by his pain, rising only as fast as he could withstand the ache. He wasn’t going to die; he would escape the clutches of Rán, he told himself.

When the water pressure lessened to that of a deep swimming pool, he took his last, short breath of air from the empty tank. The surface might still be 20 feet up. He held his breath tight, fighting the urge to breathe in and forced all his energy into climbing up through the dark water. A force squeezed around his chest, pinched into his throat and around his head. The bag of valuables acted like an upside down umbrella, slowing him down with its resistance.

The water thinned, until finally his hand shot into the air. He gasped in a hard breath of fresh air. A shower of stars sparkled above. Another gasp, so fitful, he could barely inhale. Only when his breath finally returned, did he realize he had made it. He was alive. He swirled around in the huge shelf of a wave, searching for the Dawn Maiden. It was just a few meters away.  

Something brushed against his leg. It sparked him with fear. He was sure the cut on his side was still oozing blood. While sharks weren’t necessarily common in the area, the landslide might have brought them in with the displacement of food sources. The brush turned to a grip. It fastened tight around his ankle and threatened to pull him under. Seconds later, Keith emerged with a bellowing holler.

“Holy shit, man!” he yelled. “Can you fucking believe it! Whoo hoo!”

“No, I can’t,” Nick replied, huffing for another breath.

“The entire ship slid off the hillside.”

“Almost taking us with it! Why the fuck did you take off without me? I was pinned down by a bench down there.”

Keith’s eyes rolled. “I lost you. Fuck, I couldn’t see anything in that murky water either.”

“Did you even try to find me?”

“Screw you.”

Yeah, screw me, Nick thought.

“There was nothing I could do,” Keith continued. He lifted his arm out of the water, hand gripped tight around his bag of valuables. “But who the hell cares. We’re alive with a big stash.”

“Still too close,” Nick said. He groped for a mirror in a pouch at his waist to signal to Barry, but it was gone.

“I don’t have my mirror.”

Keith shook his head. “You’re not as dependable as I once thought you were.” He dug into his pack and drew out his own mirror, along with a whistle. “It’s a good thing you have me.” He blew into the whistle and held up the mirror. Barry’s flashlight swished through the air and paused on them. A few seconds later, the motor of the Dawn Maiden growled. The boat swung a half circle and slowly drifted up beside them.

Barry threw a dingy into the water and helped pull them both to the boat. Nick let Keith step up the ladder first. He didn’t trust him and plus he wanted to take his time with the cut burning at his side. The gash didn’t feel deep enough for a hospital visit, just bloody and stinging.

Keith dropped his bag and swiveled around to offer his hand to Nick. “See, look what a good friend I am, helping you out once again.”

Nick paused, thinking about what he had almost just lost and how Keith’s attention was fixated on gathering as many valuables as he could possibly stuff into his bag. He didn’t care that lives were in jeopardy, including his own.

Nick pulled himself up the ladder. “I saved myself.”

Keith’s eyes sharpened on him. “However you want to look at it.”

Nick chose not to reply. Instead, he sloughed off his tanks and went to the captain’s chair, his chair. Keith shook his head.

“So, what the fuck?” Barry said. “Did you find the statue?” He looked to Keith and then to Nick.

“No,” Nick said. “The ship collapsed down the hillside, almost pulled us down with it.” He watched Keith dig through his trophy bag.

“What!” Barry said. “Damn, you’re two lucky sons-of-bitches.”

Nick noticed three empty beer cans stashed in a net at the side of the seat. “Good to know that you were keeping watch,” he said, gesturing to the cans.

“What’d you expect? You rather me jerk off?”

Keith slugged him in the arm. Not hard but enough to shut him up. He picked up a towel and started drying himself off.

“What’s your problem?” Barry said to him.

“We’re down in the deep risking our lives, and you’re up here having a fucking party.”

Barry swung his arm out. “C’mon, I can drink that for breakfast.”

“Doesn’t matter, anyway,” Nick said. “We didn’t find the statue. It’s gone for good now.”

Keith pulled out a necklace from his bag. “Don’t go all pouty. We found some other cool shit.”

Nick couldn’t shake his disappointment. The statue of Rán would have meant another surgery for his Matt. Now, that dream was just as dead and cold as Jim.

A flash of lightning brightened purple into a dusk-laden sky. A few silent seconds later, thunder clashed. Lucy, Kate’s tabby inherited from Jev, jumped wide-eyed awake, ears flattened back. Kate scratched behind her collar. Lucy slowly softened to her. The cat finally grew used to her and David, and the new house, but the recent storms scared her, often sending her bolting for cover beneath the furniture.

In contrast to the gloomy weather outside, the living room Kate nestled herself into cast a warm welcome of tan, leather and walnut furnishings. Bright pillows of blue, green, and yellow illuminated the space. The Steve Lymen picture of a campfire on the beach, Jev’s favorite, rested on the mantle, along with a few other pictures of Kate and Jev with their mother in San Francisco, one with their father hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, and another of Kate and David at the beach.

Listening to David pack in the other room, her heart quickened at the sound of a luggage zipper. She feared the echoes of an empty house, how the silence would dredge up all the haunting memories of Jev’s death. She had struggled hard to forget them.

If it hadn’t been for Brooke’s death, David’s leaving might seem like any ordinary time when he worked nights or weekends, but Thea’s talk of a curse and seeing Brooke’s dead eyes, had ripped open a cut that hadn’t yet healed. Dread seeped into her like a cold river and wrapped her thoughts in darkness.

Thea had said a storm was coming. Kate glanced outside, at the sway of trees, and suspected it wasn’t the weather she had spoken of.

The bedroom door closed, and Kate sprang away from dark thoughts. She grabbed the magazine from the coffee table, pretending everything was fine, because in all truth, it would be, she said to herself.

David appeared from the dim hallway, set his bags by the front door, and walked into the living room where Kate sat.

“All ready?” she asked.

“As ever.”

She dropped the magazine on the couch and stood up. “I don’t mind taking you to the airport and picking you up.”

David shook his head. “No. I’ll just park in long-term. It’s easier.”

“Will you call me when your plane lands?”

“Absolutely.”

David reached into his jacket and pulled out a little purple velvet box with a lid on it. He handed it to Kate.

Her heart did a little sideways thing. “What’s this?”

“Open it and find out.”

She lifted the lid—feeling like a kid might with a mysterious box, slowly and cautiously, anticipating the secrets of the world. Inside, a silver chain suspended a dark, shiny gray rock. A meteorite. “David, it’s beautiful.”

“It’s us,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “You and I have traveled a long ways, and what we have is different and new. I want you to know that.”

Kate swallowed back tears swelling in her throat and blinked them from her eyes. “I do. Thank you.”

He gently worked the chain from the box, then slid his hand behind her neck, and clasped it on. He kissed her on the mouth. “I’ll miss you.”

“No, you won’t,” Kate said with a smile. “You’ll be too busy rescuing the world.”

“Not true. You’re the one I want to rescue, but you would never have it.”

“Because I don’t need to be rescued.”

David lingered on her comment, seemingly in pursuit of something hidden deep in her eyes. “Maybe.” He kissed her once more and then grabbed his coat from the back of the couch. “I doubt you’ll even have time to miss me with your diving expedition to the bottom of the world. You’ll meet some merman and fall in love.”

Kate laughed. “Hmm, yeah, Stewart does look good in flippers.”

David’s smile brightened and sent a warm ray of goodness at her. “Be careful, all right? It’s been a few years since you last dived. Are you still taking your medication?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I imagine diving is like riding a bike. I’ll pick it right back up.”

“Yeah, if you live through the earthquakes and landslides,” he said.

“Never in the same spot twice.”

“It’s not lightning.”

“Close enough.” Kate shrugged and walked to the door with him.

“I’ll call whenever I can.”

“And I’ll answer when I can,” she replied.

Their schedules had always conflicted, with David working many evenings and Kate some weekends, which is what had prompted them to move in together so they could see more of each other, even if it was only for an hour or two in the mornings and evenings. Communication through text and voicemail sufficed, but often led to a feeling of disconnection between them, one that lately seemed to be growing.

David winked at her, “Take care,” and then he was gone.

Kate shut the door. She brought her hand up to the meteorite, traced its weight in her hand. The house didn’t seem as warm as it had a moment ago. Silence followed her like the dark storm outside. She shivered and went into the kitchen to make a pot of tea. She filled the kettle and turned on the stove, then sat down at the counter and began a list of items to take for the expedition.

Lucy growled behind her. Kate’s skin tingled with gooseflesh, and she spun around to the living room.

“Lucy?”

Lucy’s growl turned to a grumbling cry as if she were in pain. Kate went into the living room and found her in the middle of the floor, back hunched, hair spiked and staring wildly at the wall. Kate assumed the storm frightened her, as the wind lashed at the windowpanes with pelts of rain and torn fir limbs, until a knock pounded at the door.

Her first thought was that David had forgotten something. Then she realized he wouldn’t have knocked because she hadn’t locked the door. The knock pounded again, firm and sharp.
Open up now
.

A cold swept over her like graveyard fog. Normally, a visitor meant nothing, but after what she had seen yesterday, her gut twisted in fear. Her heart thumped as she stepped closer to the unlocked door, hoping the person on the other side couldn’t hear her footsteps. Her breath lodged into a knot in the back of her throat. She leaned forward, careful not to touch the door or make a creak in the floorboards and peeked out the peephole in the door. A man with oil-slick-black hair stood so close, she could only see part of his face, his features in the middle disproportionately large due to the curvature of the looking glass.

Who was he? What did he want?

It wasn’t difficult to perceive the man’s anger, his brow pinched inward, lips pursed, and his jaw clenched square-like. Kate didn’t want to open the door to a fuming stranger, but what if he needed help?

He banged his fist on the door again, this time, so hard, it rattled a picture on the wall next to her. Kate reached for the knob, and slowly opened it.

“Are you Kate Waters?” the man asked in a graveled monotone voice.

“Yes.”

He pushed past her, thrusting the door open, and trudged inside the house. His scrutinizing gaze drifted over end tables, the kitchen counter, and the shelves along the living room wall.

A rush of hot fear burned in Kate’s chest and threatened to undermine her courage, but she didn’t want him to know it. She couldn’t let him see that she was scared. “Excuse me? I did not invite you in. Who are you?”

The man turned around and locked his black, depthless eyes on her. “Someone with a warning.”

Kate’s stomach knotted. “What do you want?”

“I’m a friend of Brooke Jennings. That ring a bell in your brain?”

Loudly. “I didn’t know her,” Kate said, folding her arms.

“But you found her dead in her house.”

“Me and Thea Wright. Perhaps you should be talking to her.” Kate wasn’t sure if mentioning Thea would help her situation or not.

The man’s face stiffened. “So which one of you stole the statue?”

“I’m sorry? Statue? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” even though she did, but beyond Thea’s mentioning of it, she didn’t know anything about it.

“Don’t act blonde with me.” He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a black eagle tattoo on his lower forearm. “The statue’s gone.” His finger pointed at her chin. “No one else was in the house before authorities arrived but the two of you.”

“You still haven’t told me your name,” Kate said.

“My name is Andre, and you, Kaitlyn Waters, Seismic Specialist at the Pacific Northwest Geological Survey had better have a little talk with your friend, Thea. I want back what’s mine.”

Kate shuddered at the personal information Andre had gathered on her. More or less, he had been stalking her. An old nightmare surfaced like a hand from the grave.

“Listen, Andre, I don’t appreciate you coming into my house and threatening me. You might want to know I happen to be good friends with the detective on the case, so back off and get the hell out of my house. I don’t know anything about your statue, nor do I care.”

Andre took his time walking back to the door. He lingered next to her as he passed by. “I think it would be wise of you to reconsider your position in this matter. I don’t like thieves, and I don’t think your friend, Detective Wells, does either, Katie.” He stepped outside and walked across her lawn, spitting in the grass as he did.

Kate shut and locked the door. Fear still pumped heavily in her chest. Her thoughts rushed at a dizzying pace. She went to the window to make sure he left and ducked down at the corner to hide. Andre stepped into a red sedan, a Honda or Nissan.

Who the hell was he, and what was so important about the statue? Had Thea stolen it when they were at Brooke’s?

Kate couldn’t make out the license plate on Andre’s car, but she noted a black-and-white decal on the left back fender as he drove away, engine roaring around the corner.

Only twenty minutes since David had left, and things were already going wrong. She glanced over at the clock. Nine-fifteen, Thursday night. Thea would be working. Thea, who had a lot of explaining to do.

***

Kate walked across the parking lot of Walter Biddy’s where Thea bartended. She had been to the tavern many times before, actually enjoyed its smoky, dark ambience, but wouldn’t consider herself a regular. It was the kind of place that looked like it served a double shot of trouble, the last thing Kate wanted, especially since she was the one bringing it.

Streetlights smudged the stars from the charcoal-black sky above and drew long shadows against the building. A cool breeze blew past her, carrying with it the words of Andre’s chilling warning. Whatever statue he was after must be important. Expensive. Kate wondered how much Thea knew about it and whether or not she had taken it. Maybe it was the reason she had wanted to curse Brooke in the first place.

Point of the matter—if Andre was a friend of Brooke’s, then he was probably an enemy of Thea’s, and by association, hers too. As Kate reached for the heavy wooden door, she slid those worries beneath the thin, worn rug of her sanity. Until she knew for sure who Andre was and Thea’s involvement with him, it would do her no good to fret blindly.

Smoke and darkness greeted her. Inside the dim tavern, the shadowed faces of a few patrons peered at her before returning to their conversation or cell phone. Kate steered toward the bar where she spotted Thea mixing drinks. Thea glanced up at her, face filled with surprise, a rarity that Kate enjoyed since Thea was usually the one playing that card.

Kate took a seat at the end of the mahogany counter. Thea’s curly auburn hair was swept up into a disheveled bun, not an unusual characteristic, but combined with dark circles under her eyes and little makeup, she looked tired or tense.

Thea strode over to her and spun a coaster onto the countertop. It whirled to a stop in front of Kate. “What’s your elixir tonight?” she asked, attempting a smile that only broke loose at the corners of her mouth.

“Just water,” Kate replied.

Thea frowned. “You haven’t come for a social visit.”

“Neither did Andre when he barged into my house this evening.”

Thea’s eyes flashed. Something there. She scooped ice into a tumbler and searched the glass shelf behind her, seeming to need time to formulate her response. She filled the cup with a frosty bottle of gin. “Andre Singer,” she said with her back still turned.

“You know him?”

“I know of him.” Thea turned around, squeezed a lemon wedge then dropped it into the glass and set it in front of Kate.

Kate supposed that on a night like tonight, she was going to need more than water. She picked up the glass. “Don’t think this will persuade me to your side,” she said taking a sip.

“That’s not my agenda.”

Kate let the burn of the gin settle on her tongue before she spoke again. “Andre threatened me tonight.”

“Sounds like him.”

“He thinks we stole a statue from Brooke’s house. You mentioned a statue.” Kate studied her face for any hint of secrecy, but Thea’s expression remained as straight as a fault line. “I told him we didn’t know anything about a statue. He didn’t believe me.”

Thea collected a three-dollar tip next to Kate and set the empty glass in the dishwasher. She grabbed a towel and wiped the area clean. “He won’t do anything. He’s just a little dog with a big bark.”