Troubled Waters (2 page)

No, there was something about him that made her pulse race every time she saw him. He was too quiet about himself, and too quick to ask her personal questions. He
watched her too carefully. And though he’d definitely tried to downplay the difference, he was overqualified for the job, and overdressed. Nobody else in the Coast Guard wore steel-plated body armor.

To her relief, the worship service began just as Heath sat down, and Tracie was able to push her nervous thoughts away and focus on the minister’s words. Whatever the issue was with Heath, the next fifty minutes wouldn’t change anything. But it would change her heart, and she needed God’s peace more than ever now.

Heath watched Tracie out of the corner of his eye. Though she’d obviously seen him, she’d failed to be nearly as welcoming as the parishioners who’d greeted him when he came in. In fact, her body language said she didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

Fine. Heath was a patient man. He’d been waiting for her to come around since he’d arrived for his undercover position in the Coast Guard. He wished he could tell her his true identity. Normally, he’d want those working closest to him to be aware of who he was and what he was up to. But not Tracie. She was the last person who’d be allowed to know. He was there to investigate her and her colleagues for their roles in Trevor Price’s murder, and to find out if anyone on the team had been involved with the diamond-smuggling ring.

The only person at the Coast Guard station who was aware of his status as an FBI agent was Jake Struckman, the Bayfield Officer in Charge, who’d helped establish his cover. All the Coast Guardsmen seemed to accept the explanation that he was a transfer from another station, brought in because of the recent trouble they’d been having, and his expertise gained during his previous experience as a Navy SEAL. So far, no one had caught on to his total
inexperience with the Coast Guard. He’d memorized the handbook and leaned on his sharp instincts to fill in the cracks. It helped that the Bayfield team were a big-hearted bunch. They’d seemed more concerned about not disappointing him than checking for any holes in his story.

Except for Tracie. She still looked at him warily and had that chip on her shoulder he couldn’t yet account for. Did that mean Tracie was connected to Trevor’s diamond-smuggling friends, or involved in some way in Trevor’s death? If he’d read about her attitude in a report, he might have reached that conclusion. But having met her, he wasn’t so sure.

No, her eyes had gone a little too wide at the sight of blood, for one thing. She’d jumped a little too high when the bullets started flying. And she’d only been wearing a lightweight bulletproof vest when the tip of the rifle had peeked through the window curtains at Trevor’s. If she’d had inside knowledge, she’d have gone in prepared. But as it was, if he’d grabbed her a split-second later, Tracie would have been dead.

Heath replayed the scene through his mind in slow motion. He’d sensed something was wrong, but the gun had still taken him by surprise. His reaction had been pure training and instinct, no time to stop and think things through. Tracie had felt so light in his arms, and so delicate. He’d been surprised by the overwhelming need he’d felt to protect her.

He glanced over at her now, sitting quietly with her head bowed as the minister prayed, her bulky fisherman-style sweater doing little to disguise her slender frame. Underneath her tough exterior, he sensed that she was fragile—frightened, even. But she’d put up a thick wall to keep him out.

In order to find out what she knew, he’d have to break
through that wall somehow. In the four days he’d known her, he’d figured out it wouldn’t fall easily. But if he could get inside to the timid woman underneath, he might be able to convince her to lean on him.

And then? Well, then he’d have his answers, which was the whole point of this assignment. His mission would be accomplished. So why did the idea of getting close to Tracie Crandall frighten him so much?

Tracie followed Tim to the fellowship hall after the final song. She wasn’t sure how to tell him what had happened at his brother’s house the day before. Fortunately, she didn’t have to. Tim had already heard.

“I’m so glad you weren’t injured. The first I heard, nobody knew which Coasties had been involved in the shooting, but I had a sense you were one of them. I even called your house, but you weren’t home yet.”

“You could have left a message.” Tracie wouldn’t have minded the excuse to call and talk to him sooner.

“I didn’t want to bother you.” Tim clutched a cup of coffee without drinking from it.

“Don’t worry about bothering me,” she patted his free arm. “You’re my friend.”

“Right.” His eyes darted about the room. Though he’d been off drugs for weeks, he still had a jumpy, disjointed manner about him. He leaned a little closer and lowered the volume of his voice. “I’ve been asking some questions.”

“Questions?”

“Some of Trevor’s old buddies. Somebody has to have heard something.”

Though part of her didn’t want Tim doing any investigative work on his own, Tracie felt partly relieved he’d taken the initiative. Tim had contacts she had no other way of
reaching, but she’d never feel comfortable asking him to get in touch with them for her. “And?” she prompted.

“Hello, Tracie.” Heath had snuck up on her.

Tim pinched his mouth shut.

Tracie could have kicked her new partner. “Hello, Heath.” She knew she needed to introduce Heath to Tim, but she didn’t know how to break it to Tim that Heath had replaced his older brother. “Tim, have you met—?”

“No,” Tim shifted his coffee to his other hand. “You’re Heath, right?”

“Heath Gerlach,” her new partner shook Tim’s hand. “And you’re Tim Price.”

“Yes. Trevor’s little brother.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your loss.”

“Thank you.”

The men maintained eye contact, and Tracie tried hard to read what passed between them. Animosity? No, Tim was too pure of heart since his conversion to sink to that. She didn’t even sense a competitive spirit. In fact, they almost seemed to share understanding. Sympathy. Tracie felt herself softening ever so slightly toward Heath. She didn’t nearly trust him, but he’d demonstrated a rare sensitivity toward her grieving friend. It was far more than she’d expected.

Now she just had to figure out how to get rid of Heath so Tim would finish telling her what he’d learned.

“You’re filling my brother’s slot on the force, hmm?” Tim raised his cup to his lips, his face curious, his tone without guile.

“He’s left me some pretty big shoes to fill,” Heath offered.

“Size fourteen, to be exact,” Tim offered.

Tracie chuckled along with them, her mind immediately latching on to Trevor’s shoe size. The same as the footprints
they’d found at his house. But he’d been dead for over a month. Could the footprints have been that old? Impossible—far too much snow had fallen since then. Could their gunman have slipped on a pair of Trevor’s boots to throw them off his trail? It was certainly a possibility.

She was so intrigued by the idea, she didn’t pay attention to what the men were discussing until she heard Tim saying, “As I was just telling Tracie, I’ve been in contact with some of Trevor’s friends.”

“But I thought everyone involved in the diamond smuggling had been caught,” Heath said, his words taking Tracie back to the final showdown on Devil’s Island six weeks before—right after Trevor’s death.

“Everyone involved,” Tim repeated, his eyes darting around the room. He lowered his voice and leaned in closer to the two of them. “You must not realize how deep this thing goes.”

“Why don’t you enlighten me?” Heath’s quiet voice remained casual.

Tim shrugged. “I’m meeting with some guys tonight. I don’t know if I’ll learn anything, but if you guys to stop by my place tomorrow, say around noon, I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“Tomorrow at noon then.” Heath graciously raised his coffee cup to Tim, then took a sip and walked away.

Tracie watched him go, her insides roiling with a mixture of frustration and distrust.

Tim’s words pulled her from her thoughts. “He seems nice.”

“Yes.” Tracie admitted. “He does.” Almost too nice.

Heath called Jonas Goodman as soon as he got back to his apartment.

“Tim Price is talking.”

“Really?” his FBI supervisor actually sounded impressed for once. “And what’s he saying?”

“I don’t know yet. We’re meeting him tomorrow at noon. I’ll call you afterward.”

“Are you sure you’re up to this? I received your medical report last night. Those bruises on your back look ugly.”

“They’re even uglier today, but that’s not going to stop me. This case is cracking, and that gunman yesterday has me convinced whatever’s going down here is big. You don’t pull out an assault rifle unless you’re pretty desperate.”

“Or pretty stupid.” Jonas noted. “Remember, we are working with crooks here.”

“Crooks who successfully imported synthetic diamonds and passed them off as the real thing for over a decade,” Heath reminded his boss. “Hardly the work of a jumpy amateur.”

Jonas let the remark slide. “What about the girl? Got any dirt on her?”

“Tracie?” Heath bristled at his boss’s choice of words. “She’s clean so far.”

“Then dig deeper. She was way too tight with Trevor not to be involved with his business. We need to catch the remaining smugglers who are still out there. She has to know something.”

Heath’s hand tightened on his phone. “How do you know that? Do you have information you haven’t passed on to me?”

“Of course not. But everything points to her.”

Heath wanted to defend Tracie, but he checked his emotions. Why did he feel so strongly about her? He couldn’t give a solid reason. “Okay,” he relented. “I’m on it.”

“Good. If you’re going to crack this case, you’ll need to
crack her first. But I don’t think that will be too difficult for you.”

Heath hesitated. “Could you clarify that statement?”

The insinuation in Jonas’s voice carried clearly over the phone. “She’s a young woman working a lonely job. You’re an attractive man.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about fallout. You do what you have to do. We’ll clean up afterward.”

Heath’s throat tightened as he realized what his boss was openly hinting at. He’d always enjoyed working under Jonas Goodman, who had a reputation as a maverick, and whose unorthodox tactics never failed to make his job more interesting. But a sick pit churned in his stomach as he realized how much more complicated his job description now was. He’d killed before. In his line of work, it was a given. But he’d never broken a woman’s heart.

“Heath?” Jonas spoke into the silence. “Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I expect a full report tomorrow. And I don’t like disappointment.”

“Yes, sir.” Heath’s throat felt dry. He ended the call and pinched his eyes shut, one single image filling his mind.

Tracie. He’d saved her life the day before, and still felt a lingering need to protect her from harm, to find out what had caused fear to haunt her eyes and to save her from whatever troubled her. And now Jonas wanted him to intentionally hurt her.

Clenching his jaw, Heath stood and paced the room. Tracie was his target. He had to break through her defenses, find out what she knew, and report back to Jonas in less than twenty-four hours. He’d never had an assignment like this one, and he already knew Tracie wouldn’t open up to
him easily. Still, he had a sense that getting close to her wouldn’t be the most difficult part of his new mission.

No, the hardest part would be forgiving himself afterward.

T
racie 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.”