Against the Tide (9 page)

One thing was certain. The next time he kissed Olivia Chandler, he wasn't letting her run away.

Chapter Ten

Liv spent a restless night, tossing and turning, thinking about Scotty, going over the clues, trying to solve his murder. When she wasn't thinking about finding the killer, she was remembering Rafe Brodie's scorching kiss.

She'd never felt anything like it, nothing remotely similar to the heat that had rushed through her body, the hungry craving for Rafe that dragged her under and refused to let go. She remembered the moment she'd given in to it, let herself feel the intense power of the man, the lure that called to her so strongly. For a few brief seconds, she'd been on the verge of completely giving herself to him.

In her other life, as she thought of it now, she had enjoyed sex with her husband, but it had always been more about satisfying needs than a fire burning out of control. Her divorce from Stephen had been amicable. He'd been unfaithful, had betrayed his marriage vows. He knew it, felt somewhat guilty about it, didn't try to stop her from leaving him.

After a time, she had even managed to set aside her resentment and return to being his friend, which she should have remained instead of marrying him in the first place.

The few sexual relationships she'd had before Stephen were mostly the same, more about companionship than the burning lust Rafe made her feel.

Liv sighed as she lay in the darkness staring up at the ceiling. She shouldn't have given in to the little demon who'd convinced her to throw caution to the wind and dress the way she had. Dress to impress Rafe Brodie.

But she couldn't resist giving him a glimpse of the woman she kept hidden inside. She thought of that blazing hot kiss and knew her plan had worked a little too well.

Liv closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, but it wasn't until well after two in the morning that she finally fell into an exhausted slumber, only to awaken three hours later, groggy and ill-tempered.

It was after five, the sun up but hidden beneath a layer of clouds, when she pulled on a hooded sweatshirt and a pair of running pants, grabbed her stun gun, and took Khan out for a run. As soon as they got back, she went up to her apartment and showered, changed into black skinny jeans and a turtleneck sweater, and headed down to the café.

Nell was already hard at work. Katie was tying a light blue Pelican Café apron over her clothes, and Wayne Littlefish was firing up the grill in the kitchen, getting ready for the early morning customers to arrive.

Unconsciously, Liv glanced toward the door. Rafe had a full-day charter, she knew, and berated herself for thinking about him again. She would be seeing him tonight when they talked to Chip Reed, a thought that actually made her stomach flutter.

It was ridiculous. For heaven's sake, she'd be thirty years old on her next birthday. She wasn't some infatuated teenage girl.

Determined not to waste any more time, she went to work. Breakfast turned into lunch, then the lunch crowd thinned and the café settled down, giving the crew a bit of a breather.

“So how are things going with Rafe?” Katie asked, appearing next to where Liv worked behind the breakfast counter.

“If you're talking about the investigation, not very well. We need a lead, something that will point us in the right direction.”

Katie smiled. “I was talking about you and Mr. Scorching Hot.” She grinned. “I heard you and Rafe went to the Catch last night.”

One of Liv's dark eyebrows went up. “Did you? Then you probably also know I met him there and we left in separate cars. We went to talk to Sam King. We're trying to help the police. That's all it was.”

Katie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. Like any woman with a vagina could sit in a bar with Rafe Brodie and keep her mind off sex.”

“Katie!”

“Hey, I say go for it! I would.”

Liv shook her head. “You know I love living in Alaska, but I don't like the part where everyone knows everyone else's business.”

Katie just shrugged. “Like you said, you both went home in separate cars.” She grinned. “Unfortunately.”

Liv just smiled.

“By the way, Cassie is coming in for the dinner shift. She called and talked to Nell. Cassie says she's going crazy just sitting around the house thinking of Scotty. She begged Nell to let her work tonight.”

Liv nodded. “That's probably a good idea. Besides, you've been taking double shifts.” She cast Katie a look. “Maybe you can go down to the Catch and see if there's anyone interesting around.”

“Maybe I will.”

“As long as it isn't Sam King.”

Katie scoffed. “You're right about that. The guy is a total hound dog.” Katie sailed off when a customer walked in, and Liv went back to work.

She was busy refilling saltshakers when Nell ambled up. “Been busy all day,” the older woman said. “Kind of nice to see the place jumping like it used to.”

“I'd definitely rather be busy.”

“Plus you might actually make a profit.”

Liv smiled. “Actually we're doing better than my original projections.”

“Good to hear. Means I'll be able to keep my job.”

Liv impulsively leaned over and hugged her. It was a little out of character, or at least out of character for Olivia Chandler. But maybe it was all right to start letting her guard down a little.

“I couldn't do it without you, Nell. Which reminds me. I've got to go out again tonight. We're going to talk to Chip Reed. I hate to ask you to work for me, but—”

“I want that bastard caught as much as you do. I don't mind working. We can trade shifts and you can work tomorrow night.”

“That'd be great. Why don't you go home for a while, get a little rest and come back for the supper shift?”

“I think I will.” She lifted her apron off over her head. “So you're meeting Rafe again tonight?”

“He's picking me up at seven thirty.”

“You think Chip Reed could be involved?”

“Cassie dumped Chip for Scotty. Maybe that finally got to him. Maybe they argued about it. Who knows?”

“Could be, I guess. So what do you think of Rafe?”

Liv shrugged, but she couldn't keep the color from creeping into her cheeks. “He's nice enough.”

“Nice!” Nell hooted. “We're talking about Rafe Turn-Your-Body-Into-A-Furnace Brodie here. Describing a man like that as
nice
ought to be a criminal offense.”

Liv laughed. “All right, but if I tell you something, you have to take an oath of silence.”

Nell drew a cross over her heart. “And hope to die,” she added.

“He's the best kisser on planet Earth.”

Nell's salt-and-pepper eyebrows shot up. “I knew it! Lord, I'm starting to feel faint.” She waved a hand in front of her face. “I can't believe you waited this long to find out.”

Liv sighed. “Unfortunately, it can't go any further. I'm not looking for a relationship. I'm still trying to get my life in order.” Which was true, since she had been moving around the country trying to stay alive for the past three years.

Nell seemed to ponder that. “Maybe you're right. Rafe's not a good bet for the long haul.” She smiled. “On the other hand, if you could get your mind wrapped around it, a little fling might be something to consider.”

Olivia laughed. “I don't think I'm that brave.” But after last night, she'd begun to give the idea some thought. What could it hurt?

Sally Henderson had survived, post Rafe
.
Why couldn't Olivia Chandler?

 

 

A dull, leaden sky hung over the water. It had rained a couple of times that afternoon, but the squalls hadn't lasted long. The weather had finally eased up, the ocean smoothed into great, flat, undulating sheets. Gulls screeched overhead, circling the boat in the hope of carrying off a few scraps of food.

Rafe was nearing the end of a full-day charter. He had six fishermen aboard today, a group of four friends who'd flown up from Los Angeles, and two guys who were spending a few days in town, then driving back to Anchorage.

They were an interesting pair; one Asian, a kid named Lee Wong, was maybe five ten, hard-muscled and athletic, kind of a young Jet Li. The other, Michael Nevin, was taller, dark-complexioned, thin-faced, with a trace of an accent Rafe couldn't quite place.

Both were in their midtwenties. Wong had explained that the two were former college roommates, getting together for a long-overdue reunion/vacation. Both were intelligent, but neither was much of a talker, nor particularly good at fishing.

Rafe smiled at that. A lot of the younger guys were more into Facebook these days than fishing. But everyone had to start someplace. Today was their second day on the water. The men had fished with Mo aboard
Sea Dragon
a couple of days ago. But today one of the engines was giving Mo trouble, so Rafe had split the charter passengers between
Sea Scorpion
and
Sea Dragon.

The two men were getting a full-day charter for the price of a half day, though Rafe wasn't sure they were all that pleased to get the extra hours for free. Aside from the discomfort of a little rain, which the group had dodged by taking a coffee break in the cabin, the fishing had been excellent.

And on a trip like this, work for the passengers was minimal. Besides the captain, all Great Alaska charters included two crew members to take care of the fishermen's needs. Zach and Jaimie baited their hooks, provided rods and rigging for different kinds of fishing, helped the men reel in and land their catches and gaff the bigger fish aboard.

Being the low man on the crew, Jaimie handled the grunt work, the dirtiest job on the boat—cleaning the fishermen's catch.

The breeze freshened and a bait boil churned the water, beginning to attract the birds. Soon the gulls were dive-bombing the ocean, and black-and-white Dall's porpoises broke the surface of the sea not far away.

Earlier in the day, the men had been rigged for halibut, but the big fish hadn't been biting. Zach and Jaimie had changed out their rods and reels, rigged the men for fishing rock cod, lingcod, and snapper, and the fish had been hitting like crazy.

Once that happened, the passengers had begun to laugh and joke and enjoy themselves. Even the two greenhorns seemed to be having fun.

Before he headed back to the harbor, Rafe planned to change locations, move the boat to a spot he favored, and try for barn-door halibut again. Even a smaller size would be welcome.

He looked out over the bow, toward the snow-topped mountains across the water. As much as he was enjoying the day, he'd be glad when the trip was over. He wanted to talk to Chip Reed. He wanted to know if the police had located the actual crime scene, or the man in the security cam photo, or any other damned thing.

If the engine on
Sea Dragon
wasn't fixed by the time he got back, Rafe was handing
Scorpion
over to Mo for tomorrow's charter. Instead of working, Rafe could spend the day digging, nosing around, doing whatever needed to be done to find the cowardly scum who'd killed Scotty.

He'd make a run at Reed tonight—a thought that brought him full circle from where he'd started this morning. Thinking about Liv Chandler and reliving that hot, mind-blowing kiss. Jesus, the lady made his blood boil. He wanted more of her and he wanted it soon. He was tired of waiting, and he had a hunch, deep down, Liv was tired of it, too.

As Jaimie and Zach worked to change out the rigs, he started the engines and headed for the spot where he'd had good luck fishing halibut before.

Though he usually enjoyed every minute he spent on the water, Rafe couldn't wait to get home.

 

 

“Need some help with that?” Zach's deep voice rolled over her and tension settled in Jaimie's shoulders.

“I can handle it.” Ignoring him, she continued to rig up one of the halibut outfits. It was weird being out here with Zach instead of Scotty. Where Scott was always laughing and joking, treating her like one of the guys, Zach's mood was dark and brooding. He did his job and he was polite and helpful to the paying customers, but he wasn't an outgoing kind of guy.

Jamie remembered him from high school, though he was a couple of years older. He'd been reserved back then, too, but his dark good looks made him popular with the girls, who thought of him as the strong, silent type, kind of an Alaskan Johnny Depp. He wasn't an easy guy to read back then and that hadn't changed, though he made it no secret he thought of her as a woman, not a guy.

Jaimie wasn't sure how she felt about that. When he looked at her from beneath his thick, black lashes, her stomach kind of lifted and she felt oddly unnerved.

He liked the ocean, though, and he knew what he was doing when it came to fishing. He gave good advice and it didn't take long for him to earn the customers' respect.

She wasn't sure yet, but maybe she would cut him some slack—as long as he left her alone.

Jaimie almost smiled. She figured the way she looked in her rubber coveralls and knee-high rubber boots as she gutted a big, bloody fish, leaving her alone wouldn't be a problem.

Chapter Eleven

The sky had begun to clear but the wind had started blowing by the time Rafe parked the Expedition in front of the Pelican that evening. The door opened as he turned off the engine and Liv walked out, shrugging into her pea coat against the fifty-degree weather. She was wearing a pair of those black skinny jeans he'd seen her in so often, but had changed out of her comfortable work shoes into low-heeled, knee-high, black leather boots.

He took in those long, long legs, thought of what they would feel like wrapped around him, thought of that sexy kiss last night, and heat slid into his groin. Even with her hair twisted up and very little makeup, she was one good-looking woman.

He got out of the vehicle, rounded the hood and opened the passenger door as she approached. He could tell by the way she was avoiding his gaze, she was remembering that hot kiss, same as he was, wondering if he would bring it up. Which he wouldn't.

She climbed into the seat, and he closed her door, went around and slid in behind the wheel.

“Have you heard . . . umm . . . anything?” she asked as he fired up the engine.

“Not today. But I just got in a little over an hour ago. Let's talk to Reed, see if he has anything new to add.”

“Do you know if the police have tried to track the killer through Scotty's cell phone?”

He flashed her a look, wondering how it was she knew so much about police work.

“I saw it on TV,” she said, answering his unspoken question.

“I'll ask the next time I talk to someone.” They headed for Chip Reed's duplex apartment, pulled up in front. A light burned in the living room window. Looked like Chip was back from his long haul to Fairbanks.

“You think the cops have talked to him yet?” Liv asked.

Rafe cracked open his door. “I guess we're about to find out.”

They walked up on the porch and Rafe rang the bell. A few minutes later, Chip Reed opened the door. Medium height and build, blond hair and brown eyes. Kind of a pretty boy, Rafe had always thought, and way too full of himself, which Cassie had finally figured out.

One of Chip's golden eyebrows went up. “Brodie. What are you doing here?”

“If you've got a minute, we'd like to talk to you about Scott Ferris. This is Liv Chandler. She owns the Pelican Café.”

“I know who she is.” He turned his attention to Liv. “Cassie Webster works for you.”

“That's right.” She smiled up at him. “May we come in, Chip? We're really hoping you can help us find out what happened to Scotty.”

Rafe bit back a smile at her sweet tone of voice. Now she'd decided to play good cop. Maybe she actually had been in law enforcement.

“Come on in,” Chip said, giving Olivia the once-over as they walked through the door into the living room. It was sparsely furnished with a beige-and-brown tweed sofa and chair, and dark brown carpet. There were a couple of empty beer bottles on the coffee table, and the flat-screen TV was on, though the volume was turned down low.

“I just got home about an hour ago,” Chip said. “Been on a haul up to Fairbanks. My boss told me what happened to Scotty. I've been expecting the cops. I was one of the last people to see the poor guy alive, you know.”

“See, that's the thing.” Liv gave him a sugary smile. “We were hoping you might remember something he said, someplace he was going that night.”

“Boss said he was killed down at the dock.” A hint of smugness touched his lips. “I figure maybe he went down there to meet up with Jaimie. She had the hots for him bad. I mean, Cassie's a nice girl and all that, but the guy's only human. I figure he had to be tapping Jaimie on the side.”

Rafe fought a rush of anger, felt Liv's hand on his arm, and clenched his jaw to keep from grabbing Chip Reed by the back of the neck and tossing him across the living room.

“Turns out what you heard is old news,” Rafe said, forcing his back teeth to unclench. “Scotty wasn't killed at the dock. He was killed somewhere else. Cops think it happened somewhere between the motel and home.”

“But it could have been anywhere,” Liv put in, flashing Chip another sweet smile. “We were hoping—for Cassie's sake—you might be able to help us figure out where it happened.”

Chip shrugged. “Scott was the first one to leave the game. If he didn't go straight home, maybe he was headed for the Catch, see if he could pick up a little action there.”

At Olivia's warning glance, Rafe kept his voice even. “You think he was seeing someone else?”

“He's a man, isn't he? He liked to play Mr. Nice Guy, but deep down, he wasn't any better than the rest of us. Even if he wasn't screwing around, it was only a matter of time. Cassie never understood that.”

“Is that the reason the two of you split up?” Rafe asked. “Cassie found out you were cheating on her?”

He shrugged. “I tried to tell her it didn't mean anything. Didn't mean I didn't love her.”

Liv moved into Chip's space. “You are sooo full of shit!” she barked at Reed, and Rafe grinned. So much for role-playing. She was better at bad cop, anyway.

“Where did you go when you left the motel?” Rafe asked.

“Not that it's any of your business, but I drove back here. I had to be at work early the next morning.”

“Anyone see you?” Liv asked.

“How would I know? I left the motel, got in my pickup, drove home, and went to bed.”

“You'll continue to be a suspect until you can verify your whereabouts,” Rafe said. “Are you sure you didn't see or talk to anyone before you got home?”

Before Chip could answer, a knock sounded at the door. “That's probably the police right now,” Rafe said, wondering if it actually could be, since the cops hadn't talked to Reed yet. “Be careful what you say, Chip.”

“What? I'm telling the truth!” He pointed at Liv. “Both of you—get the hell out of my house!” He stomped over and threw open the door, found a plainclothes policeman—Lieutenant Richard Scarborough—and two uniformed officers on the porch. Rafe recognized red-haired Rusty Donovan as one of them.

“Charles Reed?” the lieutenant asked. Rick Scarborough was a fisherman. Rafe had known him for a couple of years.

“That's right. I go by Chip.”

“We need you to come down to the station. We have some questions we need you to answer.”

Chip straightened. “You have questions, you can ask them right here. I'm not going anywhere.”

“If you don't come willingly,” Scarborough said, “I'm going to have to arrest you.”

“What? Are you crazy? I didn't do anything.”

“We found the murder weapon, Reed. It washed up this afternoon.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“It was a baseball bat. The name C. Reed was carved into the handle. Since your dad's been dead for a couple of years, we figure the bat must be yours. Now let's go.”

Reed's face went bone white.

“Read him his rights, Officer Donovan.”

Rusty came forward. “You have the right to remain silent,” he started, repeating the Miranda warning as he locked a pair of handcuffs around Chip's wrists. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

“I didn't kill Scotty! If the guy used my bat, I don't know how he got it! I don't believe this!”

Rusty was finishing his recitation as Rafe and Olivia walked outside. Rusty made eye contact and gave him a subtle nod, while the other officer turned off the lights in the apartment, took Chip's keys, and locked the front door.

Rusty urged Reed down the path to the waiting police SUV, then shoved his head down as he settled him into the backseat of the vehicle.

Scarborough approached the Expedition, where Rafe stood next to Olivia. “What are you doing here, Brodie?”

“We came to talk to Reed, see if he had any useful information about the night of the murder.” He tipped his head toward Liv. “This is Olivia Chandler. She owns the Pelican.”

“I've seen you in there,” the lieutenant said. “How are the two of you involved in this?”

“We aren't,” Liv answered. “Cassie Webster works for me. Scotty was a friend of Rafe's. We just want to help the police in any way we can.”

“In a town this size, we can always use the help. Did Reed say anything that might be useful to our investigation?”

“We just got here a few minutes before you arrived,” Rafe said. “We didn't really get a chance to talk to him. Chip didn't deny the bat was his. Are you sure it's the murder weapon?”

“No fingerprints. The bat had been in the water for a couple of days, but there was enough blood left in the cracks to be identified as belonging to the victim. A few strands of hair should confirm DNA.”

Rafe's stomach knotted at the gruesome image. Olivia swayed a little and he drew her against him to steady her. “Even if the bat belongs to Reed, doesn't seem like enough to charge him with murder.”

“We can hold him for forty-eight hours without filing formal charges. Who knows, maybe he'll confess.”

“Maybe,” Rafe said.

“We've got a warrant to search this place and his vehicle. His pickup is parked in the garage. A couple of forensic guys from Anchorage will be here tomorrow morning. We'll know more after that.” He handed Rafe and Olivia each a card. “If either of you think of anything that might be useful, I'd appreciate a call.”

Rafe just nodded. He helped Olivia climb into the Expedition, then went round to his side and got in behind the wheel. They sat watching as the police vehicle rolled off toward the station. Both of them were belted into their seats before either of them said a word.

“Well, that's it, I guess,” Liv said.

Rafe turned in her direction. “You think so?”

For an instant, her eyes slid closed. “I don't know. I don't have a clue why, but I'm just not sure Chip Reed killed Scotty.”

“The weapon belonged to him.”

“He just . . . he seemed totally flummoxed, you know? Like he was in absolute shock.”

Rafe sighed into the quiet. “Reed's a complete dickhead, but it's hard to see him as a killer.”

“Stuff like that happens, though.”

“Unfortunately, it does.” Rafe started the engine.

“We have to talk to Cassie. Let her know what's going on. She's working the supper shift at the Pelican.”

Rafe nodded. “Good she has something to do.”

“That's what Nell thought.”

Rafe glanced over at Liv as he drove off toward the café. The minute the police had arrested Chip Reed, he'd known the night wasn't going to end the way he'd planned.

There'd be another night, he told himself. He just hoped it would be soon.

 

 

Olivia walked in front of Rafe back into the café. People mostly ate supper early up here. The café was usually closed by nine, sometimes sooner, unless they had a large party or someone had made special arrangements.

Cassie was busy helping Nell with the last few customers and starting the cleanup.

Liv walked toward her, set a hand gently on her shoulder. Cassie turned. Being so much shorter, she tilted her head back to look up at Liv. “What is it?”

“Cassie, honey, Rafe and I need to talk to you a minute.”

The rag Cassie was wiping the table with paused in her hand. Some of the color washed out of her face. “What is it? Did they catch him? Did they catch the man who killed Scotty?”

Rafe took her arm. “Come on, sweetheart, let's sit down where we can talk.”

Across the room, Nell's eyes met Liv's in silent question. Liv cast her a glance that said she would fill her in, but Cassie needed to hear it first.

They sat down in a booth near the corner, Cassie on one side while Rafe slid in next to Liv on the other. She could feel his iron-hard thigh pressed against hers and tried to ignore the sudden uptake in her heart rate.

“Tell me,” Cassie said, her hazel eyes fixed on Rafe.

“This afternoon they found the murder weapon,” he said. “It was a baseball bat, just like they figured. The thing is, it belonged to Chip Reed.”

Cassie glanced from one of them to the other. “That doesn't make sense. How did the killer get hold of Chip's bat?”

Liv reached out and covered Cassie's cold hand where it rested on top of the table. “They think Chip did it, Cassie. They arrested him just a few minutes ago.”

She started shaking her head, her chin-length hair swinging against her small ears. “No. That can't be right. Chip . . . Chip is a jerk but he isn't a murderer. He would never do something like that.”

“The police think he did,” Rafe said.

“I don't believe it.” She let her head fall forward, covered her face with her hands. “God, this is just getting worse and worse.” She looked up. “He didn't do it, Rafe. If they charge him with Scotty's murder, it just means the real killer is going to get away.”

Liv reached for her hand. “Sometimes people do things we don't expect them to. Maybe Chip followed Scott after he left the card game. Maybe they had a fight, Chip got mad and hit Scott with the bat. Maybe he didn't mean to kill him, it just happened.”

“Then Chip would've had the bat with him, right? He plays softball so maybe it was in his truck. That would make sense. But he would have had to go after Scotty on purpose. Hit him in the head on purpose. That just isn't Chip. And if you want the truth—Scott wouldn't have let Chip get the best of him that way. Scott could take Chip Reed any day of the week.”