Against the Tide (4 page)

“She?”

“Dr. Karen Ward. Works at the clinic. Town this size isn't big enough for a full-time forensic examiner.”

“That isn't exactly good news. Someone who only works part-time could miss something important.”

“She's a good doctor, but you're right. It's not exactly like having some hot-shot CSI on the case like you see on TV.”

“Speaking of forensics, maybe Scotty left something on the boat. Have you been back aboard yet?”

“No. It's part of the crime scene. As soon as it's cleared, I'm supposed to take a look, see if anything's missing.”

Olivia leaned back as he turned the SUV at the corner and drove up in front of the Seaside Motel.

“In the meantime, we'll see what Ben has to say.” Pulling into the parking lot of the two-story clapboard structure, he turned off the engine and Olivia climbed out of the vehicle. The motel was inexpensive but clean, with two dozen sparsely furnished rooms, six upstairs, six down.

Rafe held open the motel office door, and Liv preceded him inside and walked up to the counter. When Rafe leaned over and rang the service bell, his big, hard body brushed hers, and her breath caught. Just standing next to him was making her heart beat a little too fast.

Olivia couldn't remember a man affecting her the way Rafe did. She'd noticed him the first time he'd walked into the café and every time since. She'd told herself it was just that he was such a handsome man and she hadn't had sex in years. It was just that he was tall and good-looking, with a lean-muscled body that filled out his long-sleeved thermals in exactly the right places. Any normal, red-blooded female would be attracted to a man as sexy as Rafe.

Whatever the reason, she needed to keep her guard up.

Then again, Rafe Brodie was the most eligible bachelor in town. Half the women in Valdez were in love with him. Since he had never shown any real interest in her, maybe she was worrying for nothing.

She latched on to the thought as Ben walked out of the back and spotted them on the opposite side of the counter. He was a short man, a little rotund, with a receding hairline and a cheerful disposition. She could tell by the grim set of his features that Ben had heard about Scotty.

“I guess you know,” Rafe said, coming to the same conclusion.

“It's all over town. Goddamn the bastards. I can't believe he's dead.”

“Did you see him last night? Did he show up for the poker game?”

“He was here. Scotty rarely misses.”

“Have you talked to the police?”

“Not yet. I'm surprised no one's come round asking questions.”

“Rosen wasn't able to question Cassie. She was too upset. The chief doesn't know Scottie was here last night before he was killed. You know why he went back to the boat instead of going home?”

Ben shook his head. “No idea. We were all feeling real good with the tourist season kicking in and business picking up. We decided to raise the limit a little, and Scotty started winning. The kid was on a roll, cleaned us all out. When he got up to leave, Marty ragged him about staying, thought he should give the guys a chance to win back some of their money. But Scott wanted to get home. Said something about buying Cassie a real nice wedding gift with his winnings.”

Ben shook his head. “Damn shame is what it is. Goddamn shame, nice boy like that.”

Olivia looked up at Rafe. Scott had left with more money in his pocket than he usually carried. Maybe that was the reason he'd been mugged. But how would anyone except the other players have known?

Rafe asked the question she was thinking. “Besides you and Scott, who else was in the game?”

“Like I said, Marty Grossman was a player. Sam King and Chip Reed were the other two guys.”

“Reed used to date Cassie,” Rafe said. “They were pretty hot and heavy at one time. Then she met Scotty and Chip was out the door. How did Reed and Scotty get along? Any animosity?”

Ben shrugged his rounded shoulders. “Chip used to goad Scotty once in a while. Joked about him being henpecked. Told him to grow a pair and keep Cassie in line. Stuff like that. But you know Scott. Rolled off him like water off a duck's back. Scotty liked everyone and everyone liked him.”

“Not everyone,” Olivia said darkly, drawing Rafe's sharp gaze back to her.

When she said nothing more, he returned his attention to Ben. “Soon as the police find out Scott was here last night, they'll want to talk to you and the other players.”

Ben nodded. “I'll call and let them know. If there's anything I can do to help catch that murdering bastard, believe me I will.” He let out a weary sigh. “Thing like this . . . makes me wish Alaska had the death penalty.”

A muscle tightened in Rafe's jaw. “I know what you mean.”

“What time did Scotty leave?” Liv asked.

“Guess it was a little after midnight.”

“Coroner puts time of death between eleven and two,” Rafe said. “If Scotty left around midnight, he must have been killed sometime not long after. What time did the rest of the players leave?”

“Game broke up maybe ten, fifteen minutes after Scotty took off. Hell, he had all our money.”

“Are you sure he didn't say anything about going back to the boat?” Liv asked. “Mention some errand he needed to run or something?”

“Not that I recall.”

Rafe flicked a glance in her direction. “Anything else?” he asked her.

Liv shook her head.

“Thanks, Ben,” Rafe said. “If you think of anything that might help, you know where to find me.”

“You got it.”

Olivia turned and started for the door, and Rafe fell in behind her.

“Rafe?” Ben called after him. Rafe stopped and turned. “You won't let this drop, will you? You'll keep after them till they find the guy who did it.”

Rafe's jaw turned iron hard. “I won't stop until the sonofabitch is arrested—or he's dead.”

Chapter Four

Once they were back in the Expedition, Rafe pulled out his cell and phoned the police department. The SUV was equipped with hands-free, so Olivia could hear the conversation.

Rafe asked for Chief Rosen, but Rosen wasn't in. “How about Rusty Donovan?” Donovan was one of the officers he'd seen at the dock. His dad, Jim Donovan, was a dedicated fisherman. Rafe knew both of them fairly well.

After a few moments, Rusty answered. “Donovan.”

“Rusty, this is Rafe Brodie.”

“Hey, Rafe. Sorry about your friend. I met him a couple of times when I was helping Dad work on his boat. Seemed like a real nice fella.”

Rusty was only a few years older than Scott. “He was a good kid. You guys got anything new to report?”

“We're waiting for the autopsy. The body was taken to Anchorage. We won't have the official results until at least tomorrow.”

“What about the crime scene? Can I go back aboard my boat?”

“You should have gotten a call. You can go ahead. They dusted for prints, but Scott worked aboard, so his fingerprints are bound to be all over. They probably found yours, too. Could turn up someone you may have had on a charter. They're running what they've got through AFIS right now.”

“What about security cameras? Have they had a chance to look at those yet?”

“Not yet.”

“I'd take it as a personal favor, Rusty, if you'd keep me posted on the case.”

“I can do that. Sure.”

“Give my best to your dad.”

“Will do.”

Rafe hung up the phone, reached down and started the engine.

“AFIS? That's the way they match up fingerprints, right?”

He nodded as he put the SUV in gear, pulled out of the lot, and started back toward the restaurant. “Automatic Fingerprint Identification System.” When her eyebrows went up, he felt the pull of a smile. “My brother was a homicide detective. He loved to spout off stuff like that.”

“Does he live around here?”

“Used to live in Anchorage. Recently got married and moved to Seattle. But he'll help us if we need him.”

Olivia glanced away. Instead of being impressed, she looked as if that wasn't the best news she could have been given. Made him wonder if the mystery of Olivia Chandler went deeper than he'd thought.

“So what do we do next?” she asked as he drove back to the Pelican.

“I want to talk to Marty Grossman, Sam King, and Chip Reed, and I want to go aboard
Scorpion
, see if anything's missing.”

“When you talk to the men, I'd like to go with you. But I've got to go back to work for a while. I don't want to leave Nell alone too long during the lunch hour.”

“All right. I'll go down to the boat and check things out, then come back and get you.”

“If you need addresses for those guys, I can get them off my laptop.”

He angled the Ford into a slot in front of the café. “Grossman works for Orca Charters. Their boat's docked not far from
Scorpion.
I know where to find him. And I know where to find King, but not Reed.”

“I'll take care of it. I'll see you when you get back.”

He nodded.

“And Rafe . . . thanks for letting me help on this. It's really important to me.”

“Why? Because Cassie's your friend? Or is it more than that?”

She glanced away, giving him his answer. He'd noticed her reaction earlier and wondered if her motivation came from more than just wanting justice for a friend.

“Scotty didn't deserve to die,” she said. “It isn't right for his killer to get away with it.”

“You don't have much faith in the police.”

“If they catch him, great. In the meantime, I'm going to do everything possible to make sure he's found.”

Unease rolled through him. Searching for a killer could be dangerous. Still, odds were the police would catch the killer fairly soon. If not and things got dicey, he'd keep Olivia out of it.

“I'll be back in a couple of hours,” he said. “Get me that address.”

Olivia nodded, jumped down from the SUV, and closed the door.

Rafe left the Expedition parked in front of the Pelican and crossed the street to the boat harbor. As he walked along the dock, headed for the slip where
Sea Scorpion
was moored, he thought of Scotty and a chill slid down his spine.

Scott had been walking this same path last night. Why hadn't he heard his attacker come up behind him? Why hadn't he realized he was being followed? Or was the killer waiting up ahead, hiding somewhere in the shadows?

The crime scene tape was gone when he reached the boat. Rafe climbed aboard, pausing on deck for a moment to take a look around. At first glance, nothing seemed out of place. Nothing had changed since he had returned the boat to the dock yesterday noon.

He headed below. Unlike his other two boats,
Sea Devil
and
Sea Dragon
, which were set up strictly for fishing,
Sea Scorpion
had a galley with a sink, refrigerator, and stove; a dining area with enough seating for customers to get inside out of the weather; a larger head with a shower; and a cabin with a queen-size bed.
Scorpion
was equipped with state-of-the-art electronics and even a thirteen-inch color TV.

The Mac was his personal boat, and though he used it mostly for charter fishing, he also used it for wildlife and glacier cruises. Toward the end of summer, he booked a couple of weeks for his own personal use and took off for parts unknown, used it off and on much of the year.

He made a cursory examination of the pilothouse, let his gaze wander over the equipment, but the minute he had stepped on deck, he'd known the boat hadn't been boarded since he had left it yesterday afternoon.

Scotty Ferris never made it onto the
Scorpion
last night. What Rafe couldn't figure was why the hell the kid was even on the dock.

Olivia worked through lunch, grateful the restaurant was crowded and noisy. Being busy helped keep her mind off Scotty, Cassie, and particularly Rafe Brodie.

Scotty, a sweet boy who would never hurt a soul, had been brutally murdered. The young woman who loved him wanted his killer arrested and thrown in jail—or worse. Olivia had her own personal reasons for wanting justice for Scott.

It was hard to believe only three years had passed since she'd witnessed a brutal murder in an apartment in New York City. Just a case of wrong place, wrong time. She'd been in the bathroom that night when the first shot rang out. Heart pounding, certain it was a robbery, she had opened the door a crack, enough to see a pistol being emptied into her ex-husband's already lifeless body.

Terrified she would also be killed, she had stayed hidden until the murderer was gone, finally had come out and called the police.

She'd told them exactly who had murdered Stephen Rothman and why, but instead of arresting the killer, the entire incident had been covered up. High-powered people were involved, people willing to silence a witness who knew too much—no matter what it took.

Instead of being the accuser, Olivia had become the main suspect. Instead of arresting the murderer, the authorities had come after her.

Once she was out on bail, she'd escaped. With the help of an expensive attorney, time, and careful planning, she'd gotten out of Manhattan. It had taken three long years to erase her trail completely, three years of moving from place to place, changing her looks and her identity, three years to immerse herself in a new life as Olivia Chandler in a remote part of the world that she was coming to love.

She hadn't been able to find justice for Stephen, whose murder had officially never been solved.

She was Olivia Chandler now, and there was no way to go back, no way to set things right. But if she could help the police catch Scotty's killer, maybe it would erase some of the guilt she'd felt since the day she had packed her most essential belongings, boarded a train out of Grand Central Station, and left Manhattan for good.

The crash of shattering glass and Katie's muffled curse ended Liv's unwanted musings. The lunch crowd was thinning. The meaty aroma of burgers on the grill had been eclipsed by the scent of fresh-brewed coffee. Liv was refilling a patron's mug when Rafe walked back through the door.

For an instant, she lost her concentration and almost overfilled the cup. Dear God, with his thick, dark hair and strong jaw, the man was handsome. She gave the customer an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

Big and rugged. Strong and capable. When it came to virile males, there wasn't a man in New York who could compare to Rafe Brodie.

Though she had often admired his height and the solid build beneath his heavy winter coat, Liv had never allowed herself to imagine him naked. But since she'd arrived last fall, she had come to believe that whatever was underneath those warm clothes was just as attractive as the rest of him.

“You ready?” he asked as he walked toward her, the perfect picture of tall masculinity and temptation.

She swallowed, set the coffeepot back on the burner, managed to force out the word “Almost,” and hoped it didn't sound as breathless as she suddenly felt.

It was ridiculous. She was one of the most grounded women she knew. Had learned to be in order to survive. She was strong and capable, not the type of woman who went giddy in the presence of a hot guy.

Dammit, her reaction to Rafe was way out of proportion and the very reason she had avoided him for so long. She had rarely felt this kind of attraction to a man, and never a pull this fierce. She wished there were a way to solve Scotty's murder on her own, but she was still a newcomer in town, and more importantly, she needed to keep a low profile.

There was always a chance, no matter how remote, that someone from her past might track her up here to Valdez.

“I need to check on Khan first. I'll be right back.” Leaving Rafe at the counter, she removed her apron and made her way toward the rear of the café. Grabbing a couple of dog treats out of the bag next to the back door, she walked out on the porch above the backyard.

Khan, her big, black-and-brown German shepherd, trotted up to greet her, ears forward, hoping for a treat. When he sat down politely in front of her as he had been trained to do, she held up an organic dog biscuit. Though she put it right in front of his nose, he didn't try to take it.

“Okay,” she said, giving him permission, then handed him the treat. “Good boy.”

Khan was a professionally trained guard dog. She had paid a small fortune to buy him from a training facility in Texas and immediately fallen in love with him.

But there were rules to owning a dog like Khan. Maintaining discipline at all times was extremely important, and feeding him a careful diet, in his case Purina Dog Chow supplemented with vitamins, and foods like rice, meat, and eggs.

At the sound of the back door opening, Khan's head turned, his ears went sharp, and a low growl came from his throat. Liv felt an instant of alarm before she turned to see it was only Rafe Brodie standing on the porch.

The ruff at the back of Khan's neck was up.

“Hold,” Liv said, though the dog wouldn't attack unless she gave the command. Still, Rafe was smart enough not to make any hostile moves. “Friend,” she said, and Khan sat back down. His attention returned to her, awaiting her next command.

“This is Khan,” Liv said to Rafe. “Come and meet him.”

Rafe walked toward her, stopped right beside her. “Beautiful dog.”

“Yes, he is.”

“I've seen the two of you jogging in the mornings. I could tell he's well trained.” He held out a hand, let the dog sniff, get familiar with his scent, then smoothed his hand over the dog's thick coat.