Against the Tide (16 page)

Chapter Eighteen

While Rafe did whatever captains do to their boats when they arrived back in port, Liv left with the group from the Pelican. They dispersed in front of the café, which would remain closed for the rest of the day. Most were going over to Cassie's, where half the ladies in town had left food for the group of friends who had stopped by after the service and the group who would be arriving now.

Liv sent over a couple of pies, a Pelican dessert specialty, but she couldn't work up the courage to go herself.

She'd had enough sadness for one day.

Instead, she went upstairs and put on her running clothes, shoved her stun gun into her pocket, then went downstairs and out to the backyard.

The restaurant was empty. Grabbing a couple of dog biscuits from her stash next to the back door, she walked out on the porch. Khan was lying in front of his customized, storage-shed doghouse, his best friend curled up beside him.

Liv started to smile. Tuxedo was visiting. She was the sweetest little black-and-white cat Olivia had ever seen. Tux loved everyone and apparently wasn't afraid of anything, not even a big, bad German shepherd who could eat her in a single bite.

Over the months since Liv had moved into the apartment, Tux had started to appear. The little cat had put the dog in his place right away, and Khan, like everyone else, had fallen in love with her.

The big German shepherd was mostly an outside dog, though in the coldest months, Liv brought him inside the apartment. At the neighbor's, where the little cat lived, Tux had her own swinging pet door, but she was a fair-weather cat. Now that the snow had melted, she came over a lot and loved nothing more than to curl up next to Khan out in the yard.

It probably wasn't a good idea for a guard dog to bond with a cat, but Liv didn't have the heart to separate the pair. Smiling, she went back in and got a cat treat from the bag she'd purchased for Tuxedo, went back out and walked up to where the two lay in the sun.

Khan's ears went up and he came to his feet, knocking Tux from her comfy, fur-lined perch. Liv gave them each a treat and snapped Khan into his leash.

He flicked a last glance at the cat, torn between the excitement of a run and abandoning his friend. Tux's yellow eyes flashed him a pouty,
How can you leave me?
look, then she turned away and ambled back toward home.

Liv headed for the gate, then took off running, Khan falling in beside her. The dog loved getting out, seemed to love seeing what was happening in the world beyond his yard. Twenty minutes into the run, Liv felt better, her head clear for the first time that day.

She had a bad moment when she remembered telling Rafe about her dad and that she had no brothers and sisters, but she didn't really think it was information that could get her in trouble.

Khan trotted beside her as she picked up her pace and began to move faster, letting her muscles lengthen and stretch, feeling the burn. She wasn't paying attention to her surroundings, just letting her feet carry her wherever they wanted while her thoughts wandered. When she glanced up, she saw the sign for the Seaside Motel.

An image of Cassie arose, her arms wrapped tight around the urn that held Scotty's remains. If it hadn't been for Rafe's gentle persuasion, Liv wasn't sure Cassie would have let him go.

She glanced back at the motel. A dark blue Jeep Cherokee sat in front of room number two. Unless the men had gone somewhere on foot, they were probably there. On impulse she turned and jogged toward the motel. Maybe if she talked to the men without Rafe's intimidating presence, they would be willing to tell her whatever it was they hadn't told the police.

Assuming they knew anything at all.

She slowed to a walk to cool down a little. Gave the “sit” command to Khan and told him to “stay” a few feet away as she knocked on the door. The minute her knuckles connected with wood, she realized her mistake.

What if the men hadn't just heard or seen something the night of the murder? What if they'd had something to do with killing Scotty?

As the door swung open, her hand automatically went into the pocket of her sweatshirt and her fingers wrapped around the stun gun. In a black T-shirt that fit snugly over his lean-muscled frame, the handsome young Asian, Lee Wong, opened the door. The instant before he realized who was standing in the corridor and partially closed the door, she caught a glimpse of his friend, tall, dark-skinned Michael Nevin, and a third man who quickly stepped into the bathroom out of sight.

“I really hate to bother you,” Liv said, wishing she hadn't been so impulsive but determined to make the best of the situation. “I just happened to see your Jeep so I figured you were probably in your room.”

“You're Captain Brodie's friend.”

“That's right. Olivia Chandler. I own the Pelican Café.” Ignoring the sliver of unease creeping down her spine, she managed to smile. If she'd been thinking more clearly, she would have realized how dangerous this could be. Still, she was here now and she wasn't about to miss the opportunity.

“We haven't tried your place yet,” Wong said. “Heard it has great breakfasts.”

She kept her smile in place. “The best. I was wondering . . . when we were here before, I had the feeling maybe you saw or heard something the night of the murder, but didn't want to get involved. I wouldn't blame you.” She shrugged. “Who wants to get involved in a police investigation, right? So I thought maybe if I promised to keep you both out of it, not say I spoke to you, you might tell me something that could be useful.”

Nevin stepped forward, grabbed the edge of the door and jerked it open, got right in her face. “We told you, woman. We were out drinking. We came home drunk. We didn't hear or see a thing.”

Khan growled low in his throat as Wong pushed the tall man back into the room. “Take it easy, Michael. The lady lost a friend. She wants the guy who did it to pay.”

Ever the diplomat, Wong turned back to her. “I wish we could help, Ms. Chandler, but Michael's telling you the truth. We didn't see anything that night.”

She nodded. She shouldn't have come. It was a stupid thing to do. “I'm really sorry I bothered you. It won't happen again.”

As she turned to leave, the tall man made some remark she couldn't hear. She wondered who the third man was and why he hadn't wanted to been seen.

More suspicious than she'd been before, she started walking back to the café, Khan keeping pace beside her. Rafe had been right. There was something off about the men.

It didn't mean they'd committed a murder, but still . . .

Liv picked up her pace. She needed to put Kahn in his yard; then she was going to find Rafe.

 

 

“I've got to call Doyle, tell him the woman was here.” Lee pulled the burner phone out of his jeans. This whole mess seemed to be getting worse by the day. But the time was close at hand and all that mattered was making it happen, just the way they'd planned.

“You do whatever you want,” Cain said as he headed for the door. “Just remember, I wasn't here. You understand?”

“You were not supposed to be,” Nadir said darkly.

“Yeah, well, if you'd been busting your balls for weeks, you might want a little distraction yourself. I'm off tonight. I'm heading over to the Fisherman's Catch. Lots of young pussy in there. Maybe I'll get lucky for a change.”

“You gotta be kidding,” Lee said. “Doyle will freak if he finds out you're going out on the town.”

“Doyle isn't going to find out. Make the call if you want, but keep me out of it. She didn't see me, anyway. If she did and she starts trouble, I'll take care of her.”

“No way, Darius,” Lee said. “You screw this up, you'll be the one who gets taken care of. Doyle will see to it personally.”

“Fuck you.”

“Get out of here,” Nadir said. “And don't come back.”

Cain flipped a bird and left the motel room.

“That guy's trouble,” Lee said.

“Yes, but he is the key to our entire mission.”

Lee ran a hand over his short, black hair. “You don't have to remind me.”

“You had better call Doyle.”

“I guess.”

“Doyle wanted to know her name. At least now we know who she is.”

Lee nodded. But he didn't want to tell the man in charge that Cain had shown up at the room again and might have caused another problem. Doyle would freak, and shit had a way of rolling downhill.

With a steadying breath, he punched Trent Doyle's number, heard the irritation in his voice when he answered.

“What is it? And it had better not be more trouble.”

“The woman came back asking questions again. Her name is Olivia Chandler. Owns a place called the Pelican Café. What do you want us to do?”

A long silence fell. “You're a computer whiz. I want to know everything there is to know about the Chandler woman. Find something we can use, something about her she doesn't want anyone to know.”

“She owns a café. What the hell do you expect to find?”

“There's always something. An extramarital affair. Slutty reputation as a kid. Drug addiction. Alcoholism. Something. She steps in our way again, we put a stop to it. Now get to work.”

The phone went dead. Lee hadn't mentioned Cain's visit. He flicked a glance across the room, got his answer in Nadir's silent reply.

They were going to keep their mouths shut and pray nothing else would go wrong.

 

 

With the funeral over, Cassie's small house was filled to overflowing with people who had been at the memorial or out on the boat. Just like everywhere else, it was a tradition in Alaska for people to gather together in times of grief.

As the afternoon slipped past, the crowd was beginning to drift away. Half-f platters of fried chicken and poached fish, scooped-out tuna casseroles, salads, and desserts sat on the dining room table.

Rafe had spoken to Cassie and Lois, made polite conversation with friends, then filled a small, obligatory plate full of food, wandered out to the backyard, and sat down at the picnic table to eat.

Enjoying the chance to break away from the dwindling group of mourners, he had almost finished his last bite of the Pelican's delicious three-berry pie when his cell phone started playing. Rafe pulled it out of his pocket and saw his brother's name.

“Can you talk?” Nick asked, cutting straight to the chase.

At the tone of his brother's voice, a little thread of unease slipped through him. He glanced around. “I'm alone for the moment. What's up?”

“Looks like your lady friend isn't who she says she is.”

Rafe's shoulders tightened. “If she isn't, then who the hell is she?”

“No idea. On paper she's Olivia Chandler. Born to Matthew and Cynthia Chandler in March of 1983 in Medfield, Massachusetts, that's a suburb of Boston. Graduated Medfield High School. Attended University of Massachusetts, graduated in 2004 with a 3.5 grade average. She has a driver's license, a Social Security number, even a passport.”

“So what's the problem?”

“The problem, which wouldn't come up under normal circumstances and only happened because you're my brother and I don't like the thought of some woman conning you, is that if you try to track her backward, you can't.”

“I'm not getting this. What are you talking about?” His mind spun as he tried to make sense of what his brother was saying. All the while his heart was beating dully, thumping away like a big bass drum inside his chest.

“I'm telling you her parents don't really exist. Her birth certificate isn't in the courthouse records. She didn't go to Medfield High School. She wasn't at the University of Massachusetts.”

Tension settled between his shoulder blades. “No husband? No marriage?”

“No. A lot of women go back to their maiden names, but that isn't the problem.”

He felt sick to his stomach. “So if Olivia Chandler isn't a real person, why do the records show she is?”

“Here's the thing. If you have enough money, you can buy yourself a new identity. If you're a criminal, for instance, and you want a new life, you can pay someone to forge the documents you need, get them placed where you need them. Once you're in the computer system, you can use the information to get a driver's license, a passport, anything anyone else can get.”

“Olivia isn't a criminal.”

“How can you be sure?”

How could he be? He had only begun to know her. Yet every instinct told him Olivia was the strong, caring woman he believed her to be. “If you knew her, you'd know she isn't that way. What about witness protection? They do that kind of thing, right? Give people new identities. It's the only explanation I can think of that makes any sense.”

“It's possible. If she's in WITSEC, that's still not good news. Means someone wants to hurt her. Long as you're with her, that puts you in the line of fire. I'm not liking this, bro.”

He didn't like it either.

“Listen, Rafe,” Nick continued, “I know you think a lot of this woman, but you need to be careful.”

“She runs a café, for chrissake. She's not some female assassin.”

“We don't know what the hell she is. We need something else, some way to find her. Get me a photo. I can run it through facial recognition. Or better yet, a DNA sample.”

Rafe fell silent. Now that he knew his suspicions were correct, he wasn't sure he wanted to continue. But he knew his brother, knew Nick wouldn't stop until he found out the truth. His brother would want to make sure Rafe wasn't in any kind of danger.