Читать книгу Troubled Waters - Rachelle McCalla - Страница 9

Tracie had her head in the cupboard and was evaluating her dinner choices when the phone rang. She held a box of cereal in one hand and a can of ravioli in the other, and set down the pasta to answer. “Hello?”

Heath’s voice caught her off guard. “Have you had dinner yet?”

She looked at the box of cereal. “Not quite.”

“Care to join me? I’m sorry for the late notice, I just…” he paused. She waited.

“I’ve eaten every meal by myself since I’ve been here, and I thought it might be nice not to have to do that, for a change.”

His words struck a chord, and Tracie felt an emptiness inside that was more than just her stomach growling. She couldn’t remember when she’d last shared a meal with another person. But she didn’t know Heath very well, and memories of her previous partner’s unprofessional behavior toward her set off warning bells. “I make it a personal policy not to fraternize with my coworkers when I’m off duty.” She was glad she’d established that before Trevor had gotten out of hand.

“Oh.” Disappointment resonated over the phone. “You wouldn’t make an exception for my sake?”

She hesitated. The man had saved her life. But her policy had saved her skin before, too. “No exceptions.”

“Right. Sorry to bother you. Goodbye then.”

“’Bye.” Tracie hung up the phone and leaned back against the cupboard. Gunnar, her German shepherd mix, whimpered in concern at her feet, and she realized she was clutching the cereal box so tightly to her chest that she’d crumpled it.

She looked at the box, then down at her dog. “It’s okay. I’m fine.” She forced a smile for Gunnar’s benefit, but he didn’t look any more convinced than she felt. Shaking off her doubts, she nodded resolutely and proceeded to pour herself a bowl of cereal. “That was the right answer. I’m pretty sure it was.”

Tracie pulled up at the Coast Guard station the next morning just as Heath was getting out of his truck. Her insides knotted at the sight of him.

“Medical leave,” she said with a pointed look at the bandage on his arm.

He grinned at her, and she felt her heart give a dip. “Not for me, thanks. How was your dinner?”

It had been horribly dissatisfying, and she’d ended up feeling so bad about turning him away that she hadn’t even been able to finish her cereal, which had seemed to stick halfway down her throat every time she tried to swallow. But she wasn’t about to tell him that. “It’s really none of your business,” she reminded him as she stepped through the door he held open for her.

“Mine too,” he agreed.

“What?” She spun and looked at him, meeting his eyes, where flickering sadness didn’t match the smile he’d pasted on his lips.

“Dinner,” he explained, letting the fake smile drop. “Lonely and disappointing.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Tracie’s heart thumped hard against her rib cage and she hurried to the office that housed her cubicle, hoping he’d disappear into his own. Instead, he followed her.

“Look, I don’t mean to be rude,” she stared him down, “but I have work to do.”

“We have work to do.”

“I don’t need your help completing my paperwork.”

“The paperwork can wait, Princess. Somebody tried to kill us on Saturday, and I intend to catch whoever it was before they get a chance to finish the job.”

Tracie bristled. She was no princess. Princesses didn’t work for the Coast Guard. “Look, Heath, I’d love to catch our gunman, but we have no idea who it is, and no leads right now to go on.” She sat at her desk and picked up a sheaf of papers.

“And we’re not going to find any leads sitting around doing paperwork.” Heath plucked the papers from her hands and set them out of her reach on top of her file cabinets.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Then what do you propose?”

“Have you had breakfast?”

“No,” Tracie stood. “Not that it’s any of your business.” She gestured for him to leave. “I have work to do.”

Heath smiled as he stepped out of the office. “I’ll be back.”

Twenty minutes later, Heath stepped, uninvited, into Tracie’s cubicle and plunked a fresh apple fritter on her desk, then slid a steaming cup of coffee next to it. “Half cream, no sugar,” he smiled triumphantly. “Jake ratted you out.”

“I had no idea Jake cared so much,” Tracie slid the coffee toward her, lifted the lid, and inhaled a deep breath of steam.

“From the Egg Toss Café,” Heath explained, hoping he’d earn points for fetching her favorite brew.

“I can see that.” She speared an icy eyebrow his way, but took a small swallow and reached for the fritter. “Have a seat,” she said, nodding toward the spare chair as she took a big bite of the pastry. “Tell me what I have to do to make you go away.”

Inwardly congratulating himself on his small victory, Heath took the chair and opened a white sack, pulling out another fritter for himself. “I want to know everything you know about Trevor.”

She shrugged and washed down a bite with coffee. “It’s in the report. Read it.”

“I’ve read it. I can quote long sections from memory, if you’d like. But nothing in the report tells me who else Trevor was involved with, or why they’d rather risk a murder charge than let me look at a house your men had already searched.” The vivid details of the report stood out fresh in his mind, from the moment Tracie and two civilians discovered Trevor’s body floating facedown in Lake Superior, to their discovery of a hidden cave under Devil’s Island. But the body had disappeared before they could recover it.

Tracie leveled her gaze at him across the desk. “Don’t you think I’d tell you if I had any idea? It’s not in my best interest to withhold information, you know.”

“But you were closer to Trevor than anyone else on this team.”

“We really weren’t that close.” She plucked a large blob of apple from the fritter, and dropped the gooey mess into her mouth.

As Heath watched her lips close over the morsel, he was struck again by how attractive the woman sitting across from him really was. What was she doing living in this tiny dot on the map, working for the Coast Guard of all things? It took him several seconds to pull his thoughts back to their conversation. “How long had you known Trevor before his death?”

Tracie sighed over her fritter. “I’m from Bayfield. Trevor’s from Bayfield, too, but he’s a few years older than I am. Growing up, I’d heard his name, but never paid too much attention to him. When I started working for the Coast Guard, he was stationed elsewhere, near Canada, I guess. He transferred here, we started working together. What else do you want to know? He took his coffee with cream and way too much sugar. He’d eat pretty much anything, including other people’s food if they didn’t eat it first. I think he felt entitled to things, but I never understood why.” She shrugged and took another bite of apple fritter.

Heath felt like he was beginning to make progress. “And you had no idea he was involved with a diamond-smuggling ring?”

“None,” Tracie looked at him blankly and swallowed. “As far as I know, nobody had any idea anyone was smuggling anything through the Apostle Islands. Nobody even knew there was a sea cave hideout in Devil’s Island—not unless you believed the old fishermen’s tales about pirates, anyway. Six weeks ago, the case got blown wide open. Before that, I admit I was completely oblivious.”

“So you never suspected Trevor was involved in anything covert?”

“No.” Tracie looked annoyed. “Why would I?”

“You spent ten hours a day together, four days a week. He never did anything suspicious in all that time?”

“Look, Trevor and I had an arrangement. He stayed at his desk, I stayed at mine. When we drove around in the truck together or rode around in the boat, he drove and I navigated. He did the grunt work and I did the thinking, and we never talked about our personal lives. Ever. It’s an arrangement I’m hoping you and I can duplicate.”

“But you’re friends with his little brother.” Heath persisted.

“I met Tim after Trevor was already dead, when Tim came forward with information that helped us crack the case. We’ve barely known each other a month. And yes, I’m already better friends with Tim than I ever was with Trevor, but that only reinforces how very little I cared for Trevor.”

“So you didn’t like him?”

Tracie threw back her head and looked at the ceiling. Heath watched the muscles in her slender neck shift as she tightened her jaw in frustration. “Trevor and I had an arrangement,” she repeated.

“What kind of arrangement?”

Heath watched carefully as Tracie’s eyes darted to the door, as though seeking escape. Her face paled slightly and a vessel in her neck began to pulse visibly. She stood. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Though Heath rose from his chair, he didn’t take his eyes off Tracie’s face. He was learning more by watching her reaction to his question than he’d gathered from anything she’d told him in the last five days. She was scared. Of Trevor? He had to know.

“What was your arrangement with Trevor?” he asked quietly.

“I just told you.” The fire had gone out of her voice. Her chin quivered ever so slightly.

“So you never saw him outside of work?”

“Leave,” she pointed to the door. She wasn’t ordering him anymore. Her eyes were pleading.

Heath felt an unfamiliar urge to soothe her. “Tracie.” He spoke her name softly.

She flinched as he drew closer.

And suddenly, Heath realized he had to back off. “I’m sorry. I’m out of here.” He glanced back as he slipped through the door. Tracie’s face was still turned away, and her slight shoulders heaved as she gulped a breath.

For a fleeting instant, he wanted to grab her up into his arms, to protect her from harm as he had on Saturday. But something told him he was already too late.

Trevor had gotten to her first.

It took Tracie most of the rest of the morning to compose herself. Heath showed up at her desk shortly before noon. He handed her the keys. “Why don’t you drive? You know the way.”

She accepted them with quiet thanks and tried not to shiver when his hand touched hers. His comment on the phone the night before had reminded her of how rarely she experienced human contact. But she didn’t need to get it from him. She had friends. Tim was one of them.

Tim’s place was on the edge of town, rimmed by woods like so much of northern Wisconsin. Tracie spotted his bike leaning against the side of the porch. She knew he hadn’t driven since his license had been revoked following a drunk-driving charge the year before. She smiled. Tim was a good guy. A lot of drunks just kept on driving without a license.

Heath followed her up the peeling porch steps, and Tracie felt a sense of déjà vu as she recalled what had happened two days before when she and Heath had stood on a Price doorstep. She shook off her nervousness, rang the bell, and waited. No answer. She met Heath’s eyes, he shrugged, and she pressed the buzzer again. Still nothing.

“The bell might be out. Let me try knocking.” Heath reached past her and rapped on the doorframe.

“Here, try the inside door,” Tracie suggested, alert to the possibility of danger, and eager to get inside instead of standing out in the open on the porch. She held the storm door open.

Hardly had Heath’s knuckles touched the inner door than it swung inward. Heath quickly reacted and raised his arm. “Don’t look—” he started.

But Tracie had already seen inside. Tim lay in a pool of blood on the floor.

“Tim!” Tracie gasped as she shouldered past Heath to her fallen friend. Her hand flew to his neck and found a weak pulse. Hope rose within her. “He’s alive!” She could hear Heath behind her, giving instructions over his radio. “We need a medical team, quickly!”

“Tracie?” Tim’s eyelids fluttered.

“Yes, Tim, I’m right here.” She found the wound in his gut and tried to stem the flow of blood. “Help is on the way. Hang in there.”

“Can you hear them?”

Tracie listened for the sound of approaching sirens, though it was far too soon to expect them to arrive. The only sounds she could hear were Heath’s soft footfalls as he scoured the perimeter behind her. “Not yet, Tim, but they’re on their way.”

“They’re singing,” Tim gasped. “So beautiful.” His eyes bore a faraway look.

And suddenly Tracie realized Tim was no longer really with her. “Tim,” she choked on his name. “Tim, stay with me. Look at me!” she demanded.

Tim shifted his gaze to her face, and his pupils dilated as he focused on her.

“Who did this to you?” Tracie could feel the tears running down her cheeks. She realized Tim didn’t have much time. Likely the only way they’d ever bring his killer to justice was if he could name him before he died.

Tracie watched the light fade from his eyes.

“No, Tim. Look at me! Who did this?”

Tim blinked. “T—” he choked. “T-Tre—”

Tracie focused, pleading with her eyes.

“—verrrr.” The last syllable escaped his mouth in a sigh.

And he was gone.

Tracie picked up his hand and held it to her lips. “No.” She tried to squeeze back the tears. “No, please, no.”

She didn’t realize Heath stood behind her until she felt his hand on her back.

“Perimeter’s clear,” he said softly.

Tracie nodded. She didn’t look up at Heath, but neither did she push his hand away. It wasn’t until the paramedics came rushing in that she stood and turned to face him.

“We shouldn’t have left him alone. We should have put him in protective custody.”

“He didn’t want to go,” Heath reminded her. “Besides, we thought we had everybody.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Tracie hugged herself tightly. “We should have insisted. He could have gotten mad at us, but at least he’d still be alive.” She looked back over her shoulder in time to see the medics draping a sheet over Tim’s body. She pinched her eyes shut.

Heath’s hand fell gently on her arm. “We can’t go back in time. Don’t blame yourself.”

Much as Tracie would have liked to push him away, she found she couldn’t bring herself to shrug off the light touch of his hand. She took a moment to steady her breathing, then looked Heath directly in the eye. “We have to catch whoever did this.”

The corner of Heath’s strong jaw shifted in a determined expression. “I think it was the same person who shot at us on Saturday.”

“That makes sense,” Tracie acknowledged, “but we don’t have any evidence to link anyone to either crime.”

“Don’t we?” Heath moved closer to Tracie as investigators scurried around behind them, and his hand slid higher on her arm. “You asked Tim who did this. I heard his answer.”

“You did?” A shudder rippled through her. “But all he said was—” She stopped and pinched her eyes shut, too afraid to speak the word out loud.

Heath’s mouth moved close to her ear. “Trevor,” he whispered.

She pulled back and looked at him, her eyes wide. “But what does that mean? Trevor’s friends? Trevor’s associates, his rivals, his enemies? We don’t know what Tim was going to say.”

“He said Trevor.” Heath looked at her with an intensity that made her want to shrink away.

“Trevor’s dead,” she insisted in a whisper. Didn’t Heath understand? She’d seen Trevor’s dead body floating in Lake Superior. There was no way a dead man could commit murder.

“His body was never recovered,” Heath challenged her.

Tracie shook her head, still feeling shell shocked. “Trevor’s dead,” she repeated.

Heath nodded, took a step back, and bowed his head. When he looked back up at her, his eyes wore an unreadable look. “Right.” He said simply. “Right.”

Jonas sounded frustrated when Heath finally reached him by phone later that afternoon to report on what had happened.

“He was still alive when you reached the house?” his supervisor clarified.

“Barely,” Heath conceded. “If we’d have gotten there a moment later, we wouldn’t know anything. As it was, I think it’s pretty clear he was blaming his brother for his death, but Tracie doesn’t necessarily see things that way.”

“Ah,” Jonas’s tone brightened. “The two of you are close now, hmm?”

Heath cringed. “She’s not the most open and trusting person, but I think she’s starting to let me in.” He thought about the brief time she’d allowed him to rest his hand on her arm. It wasn’t much—for most people, he wouldn’t think of it as anything. But with Tracie, it was progress.

“Starting to?” Frustration edged back into Jonas’s tone. “Look, we’ve got a gunman on the loose and we’ve just lost a witness. We don’t have time for you to ease your way into this. Tracie Crandall knows way more than she’s telling, and until we learn what she knows, we run the risk of losing more lives on this, maybe yours.” Jonas paused, and his voice dropped an octave to take on bone-chilling seriousness. “If you can’t handle this, Heath, tell me now, and I’ll put in someone who can.”

“I’m on it.”

Tracie took a long soak in the tub, but she couldn’t seem to wash away the chill she felt after watching Tim pass away in her arms. She dressed in her comfiest yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt, and joined Gunnar in the kitchen, where her bare cupboards offered little to console her. Even Gunnar whined when she poured him the same old dry dog food.

“Sorry, buddy,” she whispered when he looked up at her with pleading eyes.

She jumped at the sound of the doorbell. “You expecting anyone?” she asked the dog.

Gunnar cocked his head to the side and barked once before trotting off toward the front door. Tracie followed him and flipped the switch for the porch light. The broad-shouldered silhouette at the door appeared to be holding a pizza box. Tracie let go of the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

She looked down at her dog. “I didn’t order pizza. You?”

Gunnar ignored her and poked his head through the doggie door.

Taking her cue from her dog, Tracie drew closer and peeked tentatively through the sheer curtains.

“It’s me. Heath,” her partner mouthed as he peered back at her through the gap in the shades.

Tracie jumped back and opened the door. “What are you doing here?” She grabbed Gunnar by the collar before he could attack.

Heath stepped into the house holding the pizza above his head. “Since you turned me down last night, I decided tonight I wouldn’t bother to ask.” He looked at her with challenge in his eyes.

Tracie hardly noticed his look. Instead she stared at her dog, who was nuzzling Heath’s free hand playfully while the Coast Guardsman attempted to pet him.

“Beautiful,” Heath nodded to Gunnar. “Part Great Dane?”

“Mostly German shepherd, I think.”

“But bigger,” Heath noted.

“Uh-huh.” Tracie looked quizzically at Gunnar. “He likes you,” she said softly.

“You sound surprised. Should I be insulted?”

“Oh. No.” Tracie shook her head and tried to focus her thoughts. “It’s just that—” She stopped. She needed to convince Heath to leave, but at the same time, the pizza smelled so delicious. Her stomach growled. “What?”

“Gunnar hated Trevor,” she admitted in a small voice.

“Gunnar—” Heath looked down at the dog with a bright smile “—you’re a smart dog.” He crouched a little lower, still holding the box high above his head.

Instead of leaping up and snatching away the pizza as she’d have expected, Gunnar planted his front paws on Heath’s knees and licked his chin.

Swallowing her surprise, Tracie took a deep breath and prepared to tell Heath to leave. But the savory aroma of the pizza tickled her nostrils, and her stomach gave another grumble. She looked at her dog. Gunnar thought Heath was okay. And the day had certainly been an exceptionally trying one. Perhaps she could relax her rule just a little, under the circumstances. But what good was a personal policy if she didn’t always stick to it?

Heath reached back through the open front door and grabbed a two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew.

Tracie realized she’d been outmaneuvered. She tried one last protest. “Neither of us will get any sleep tonight if we drink that.”

Turning the bottle so she could clearly see the label, Heath corrected her. “It’s caffeine-free.” He gave her another one of his bothersome grins that told her he knew he’d won. “Where can I put this?”

With a sigh, Tracie led the way to her kitchen.