A Killing Tide (18 page)

He snorted and let go of her. "No chance of that at this point." His smile was sad, his expression becoming more distant. "But they aren't going to get away with this, not in my town."

He walked over to the window, easing the curtain aside, then swore softly. "Looks like Jackson has actually decided to take a walk around the house. Pity you can't sic the dog on him." Gary pulled a .45 Ruger out of his jacket, chambered a round and flipped the safety on, then handed it to her. "Keep this with you, even when you sleep."

She took the gun reluctantly. She knew how to use it—Gary had insisted on teaching her years ago—but she'd never been comfortable handling it. "Tell me how to get in touch with you."

He shook his head. "If you need anything, find Chuck." He walked to the door and opened it, then looked back at her, his worry evident on his face. "Goodbye, Kaz."

And then he was gone.

Kaz dropped down onto the bed, staring at the empty doorway. She picked up the pillow, shoving the pistol underneath. For several long moments, she stared at the moonlit glow of the white linen pillowcase.

Then she grabbed the pillow and hurled it across the room.

#

Lucy sat in her living room in her rattiest sweats early the next morning, mainlining coffee, eating cold pizza, and watching a rerun of a World Cup Soccer match while she cleaned her gun. Normally, she slept until the very last minute each morning, then headed into the police station and had her caffeine hit there. But this case was driving her nuts, so she'd gotten up early, figuring that watching the game and sniffing gun oil would help her relax enough to think things through.

In her opinion, soccer was a great sport. Its players exhibited the perfect blend of grace and athleticism, with the right amount of competitiveness thrown in. She snorted. Unlike football players, whom she'd always been convinced got away with culturally sanctioned assault and battery. Most linebackers and defensive tackles were lucky they'd landed a place on a team somewhere—otherwise, they'd be doing ten to fifteen in the state pen.

The United States soccer team scored a goal, and she let out a whoop. Then she removed the firing pin from the Glock, inspecting it closely for wear. The only use the gun had ever seen was on the firing range, but still, a careful cop kept her equipment in top condition.

Sykes had gotten the warrant issued for Gary's arrest in record time, dropping it on her desk the night before. He'd also assigned two more teams of cops to search for Gary, putting Clint Jackson in charge. And that worried the hell out of her, because Clint wasn't, to put it mildly, her first choice for the job. Of course, her opinion might be colored by the fact that Clint was a redneck, chauvinist asshole who got off by objectifying women. The guy made her see red every time he swaggered into the squad room. She didn't mind being treated like she was one of the guys—that's actually what she preferred. But Clint had let it be known more than once that he thought any skills she had were best demonstrated in the bedroom.

Still, no matter what her personal feelings were about him, she was convinced she was right to be worried. She wasn't the only one on the force who thought Clint could be a little too rough on prisoners, not to mention a little too trigger-happy. If Gary decided to put up a fight…she shuddered.

The dumb shit needed to turn himself in. Why the
hell
hadn't he made contact with her? Surely he trusted her. He had to know she'd do whatever she could to ensure that he was treated fairly.

Maybe he trusted her, but didn't have the confidence in her ability to help him. She pondered that while she ran a small brush through the barrel of her gun, scouring it of any gunpowder residue, then shook her head, muttering under her breath. No. She was just being insecure, which was a bad habit of hers. Gary knew she was good at her job, and he also knew she was loyal to her friends. She'd never given him any reason to think she'd let him down.

She sensed rather than heard a movement in the doorway and looked up. Then jumped a foot. "Shit!"

As if she had conjured him out of thin air, Gary leaned against the doorjamb, watching her with an amused expression. "Jesus, McGuire. You clean your gun at 6:30 in the morning?"

"You scared the hell out of me!" she shouted at him. "Don't do that—I could've shot you."

"Your gun is in itty bitty pieces."

"I can have it back together in under seven seconds."

"Yeah, and I can render you unconscious in under two."

She already should've pulled her backup gun, and she cursed the lack of caffeine in her system that was making her brain function like molasses. "You here to turn yourself in?"

Gary grunted and moved out of the doorway. Keeping a wary eye on her picture window, he leaned over and picked up her coffee mug, draining it. When the taste registered, he grimaced. "Christ. What the hell is this?"

She snatched the mug away from him and headed for the kitchen to refill it. "I reheated yesterday's."

"You're hopeless in the cooking department, you know that?" he said, following her. He leaned against the counter, muscular arms crossed, looking tall and lethal in his camouflaged army fatigues and grease paint. "Convince Kaz to lay off. I don't want her mixed up in this."

"
You
convince her."

"I tried—she isn't buying it."

So he'd been to the house and talked to Kaz. Lucy handed him the coffee mug, then palmed the .38 she'd retrieved from the kitchen drawer, pointing it at him. "I've got to arrest you, Gary. I can help you, but I have to take you in."

He shook his head. "Point that somewhere else, will you? I don't want you losing that infamous temper of yours and shooting me."

"Hands behind your head, fingers interlocked. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say—"

Carrying his coffee, he walked over to the refrigerator, looking inside. "Got anything to eat besides pizza? I'm a vegetarian these days."

"You can't just ignore me!"

He shut the door, sighing. "You're not going to shoot me, Luce, and I'm not going to turn myself in. So put that thing down, before I feel the need to take it away from you."

"I'd like to see you try," she snarled.

He grinned and winked. "And I'd like nothing better than to try, darlin'. But I've got places to go, people to see."

Pure, hot, sexual awareness arrowed through her, heating her. She swore, de-cocked the gun, and laid it on the kitchen table. Dropping into a chair, she rubbed her face. No way was she going to let him see how much he'd gotten to her with one remark and a sexy smile. "Okay, what d'you want to talk about?"

"Kaz. Convince her to go back to California." Gary's brows snapped together. "Hell, you're the one who called her and told her to come back. So fix it."

"You know about that?" Lucy felt the guilt slide through her.

"Yeah. What a dumbass move."

She bristled at his remark, but he had a point. Kaz was acting recklessly, and displaying a tenacious stubbornness that was half the reason Lucy had had a sleepless night. And it
was
her fault that Kaz was even involved. "Like Kaz is listening to me any more than to you," she pointed out.

He sat down in the chair opposite her, and she noticed for the first time how exhausted and anxious he looked. Her stomach started to churn as she considered what could make a bad-ass, ex-Army Ranger like Gary so paranoid. "Can't you arrest her or something?" he asked.

"Phil would have her out in an hour, you know that."

"Then put her in protective custody."

"Gee, all our officers are busy out looking for you."

He grunted. "I noticed. Okay, so move in with her."

"Gary…" She shook her head, then folded her arms. "I've heard rumors for a couple of weeks now about the fishermen. Care to tell me if they're true?"

"No."

"Want to confide in me about what you're doing?"

"No."

She gritted her teeth. "Where were you the night before last while the
Anna Marie
was burning down to the waterline?"

"Camping."

"Try again," she shot back. "I saw you in the photos Chapman took of the crowd."

He shrugged. "I went to the mooring basin to spend the night on the trawler, but I hooked up with Chuck instead. Satisfied?"

"Not by a long shot." He wasn't telling her everything, and the knowledge that he didn't trust her to help him hurt so much she was having trouble breathing. She forced herself to pin him with her hardest interrogation stare. "Did you go onto the
Anna Marie?"

"No." He leaned forward, close enough to pump up her pulse rate. His eyes shone with a feverish intensity. "You know I didn't kill Ken. Quit playing cop for just one damn minute and listen to me. Kaz is in real danger. Did she tell you someone broke into her house last night?"

Lucy swore.

He smiled grimly. "Yeah, I didn't figure she'd raced to the phone to call you."

"Do you know what they wanted?"

"Yeah."

She glared at him. "You going to share with me?"

"No." He stood and walked to the back door. "Figure out a way to keep her safe—that's all I'm asking."

"You can't just waltz out the door! I'm an officer of the law and there's a warrant out for your arrest."

"You never saw me—I wasn't here." He paused in the open doorway. His expression was hard, but his eyes were haunted. She shivered as cool air wafted over her. "Watch your back, Luce."

Two seconds later, he was gone, and she was left sitting alone in her kitchen, listening to the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall and the sounds of the soccer match playing in the background.

Well, hell.

~~~~

Chapter 15

When Kaz awoke around nine, her first sleep-fogged thought was that she felt like a mummy, wrapped from shoulders to toes. Then she remembered that Zeke was stretched out along one side of her, on top of the covers.

After Gary had left, she'd given in and let the dog sleep on the bed. She had a sneaking suspicion that Zeke was afraid of the dark. He'd been so rattled by their late-night visitor that the only way she'd gotten him to quit pacing, his claws click-click-clicking on the hardwood floor, was to invite him into her bed.

Zeke's forepaw now lay across her stomach, holding her down, and his head lay on her shoulder, tucked into the crook of her neck. He was sound asleep, his hind legs twitching as he chased imaginary prey. She lifted his paw and tried to roll him over. He groaned, snuffling against her neck and licking her ear, then went back to sleep.

It was the same ear that Michael Chapman had licked the night before.

Muttering to herself about the male gender, she lifted the edge of the covers and eased sideways out from under Zeke, half-falling onto the floor beside the bed. She dragged herself to her feet and went into the bathroom to splash water on her face.

After brushing her teeth and throwing cold water on her face, she glanced in the mirror. Big mistake. Two nights of little sleep had left her with purple smudges under her eyes. Worry about Gary had added hollows to her cheeks.

Taking a quick shower, she turned it to a bracing icy cold toward the end, forcing herself to stand under the stream until she felt more awake. Then she tamed her wet hair into a French braid and applied light makeup. Rummaging around in her dresser, she pulled on a clean pair of jeans, a turtleneck, and a heavy cotton sweater.

As she dressed, she assessed the weather. The wind was picking up in velocity, splattering raindrops against the panes of her bedroom window. Another storm was moving in, and it looked like it might have some punch to it. She'd check the marine forecast, but she was certain there'd be gale force winds and at least fifteen feet of storm surge, even close in to shore. No one would be going out crabbing today.

Sighing, she grabbed the pair of running shoes she had drying on the heat register and headed downstairs. Rounding the corner into the kitchen, she came to a halt.

There was a cup of freshly brewed coffee sitting on the edge of the counter, doctored the way she liked it with a small amount of cream, still steaming. It held down a handwritten note. She picked up the coffee and the note, noticing that Zeke was gone. Before she could read it, the phone rang.

She reached for the handset, then hesitated, unsure if she could cope with another hang-up. The phone rang again. She couldn't ignore it—it could be anyone, even Gary. Just this once, she wished her brother was into technology and had installed Caller ID. She sighed and picked up the portable unit.

"So glad you thought to call me about the break-in." Lucy's voice had a distinctly sarcastic edge to it.

Kaz relaxed. "What could you have done? Send the lab guys over to dust for fingerprints?"

"For starters, yeah."

"He was wearing gloves."

She heard Lucy groan. "I don't want to know how you know that."

"I noticed when I swung the baseball bat at him."