The Christmas Rescue (11 page)

And she needed to understand. As much as he cared about Kayla and Brianna, he couldn't be the husband and father they deserved. She'd realize why once he told her what he'd done.

The grim realization kept him up until the wee hours of the morning as he worked diligently on the case that would soon bring this forced closeness to an end.

The next morning, Rafe's eyes were gritty with lack of sleep, but he ignored the discomfort as he quickly showered and dressed for his upcoming meeting with his boss and hopefully, a face-to-face conversation with Charlie Turkow.

When a door opened and closed loudly from next door, he rushed over to yank his open, relieved to find Kayla bundled up in her coat taking the dog outside.

“Everything all right?” he asked when she glanced over at him.

“Yes, we're fine,” Kayla said cheerfully. He was amazed and humbled at how she always seemed to take everything he threw at her in stride without a single complaint. She certainly hadn't deserved to be dragged into this mess. “I realized this morning that you gave me all the food, so when you're hungry, let me know.”

As if on cue his stomach rumbled and he had to laugh. “I will.”

When he knocked on their connecting door, she opened it up and handed him a steaming plastic bowl of instant oatmeal. “Thanks,” he said, taking the dish gratefully. “I'm going to leave in about ten minutes, is there anything you need me to get while I'm out?”

“Not that I can think of,” she admitted. “Is it all right
if I take Brianna and Clyde out for a short walk? I'm afraid it's going to be a long day for them.”

Rafe hesitated, debating. He was sure they hadn't been followed and Luke was the only other person who knew where he'd taken Kayla. He trusted his boss with his life. “A short walk should be fine,” he agreed. “Keep your cell phone with you so that I can get in touch with you if I need to.”

“I will. Thanks, Rafe.”

He nodded and shut the door, quickly wolfing down his oatmeal. He grabbed his laptop, the photographs, and his notes describing each of the criminal's identities and the dates they'd disappeared.

The photos confirmed that each of the well-known criminals had taken trips on Schroeder's charter fishing boats. One piece of the puzzle had been fit into place, but there were more gaping holes that still needed to be filled.

On the way to the Green Bay substation, he swung past Pelican Point and found Charlie Turkow's boat moored in the dock. With a glance at his watch, he realized he had plenty of time to meet with Charlie first. Better to bring all the information to Luke at once.

He took a copy of Kayla's sketch and the photographs of the criminals who'd all disappeared with him as he approached Charlie's Charter.

“Charlie?” he called out, as he stood near the bow. “Come on, Charlie, I need to talk to you. It's important.”

For a moment he feared the old man would ignore him, but suddenly the boat rocked as the older gentleman emerged from below deck. “Are you deaf? I told you I have nothing to say.”

Rafe held up the sketch of Gregory Landrum. “Have
you seen this guy, Charlie? We think he's the guy who killed Bill Schroeder.”

The flash of fear in the old man's eyes, along with the hasty step backward convinced Rafe that Charlie had recognized him. “So why are you bothering me?”

“Because we need your help to find him,” Rafe explained patiently. “Come on, Charlie. I know he's taking criminals out of the United States and hiding them in Canada. I have the evidence right here,” Rafe said, holding up the photographs with his other hand.

Charlie's eyes narrowed. “Let me get this straight. You want my help.”

Rafe stared at Charlie with a puzzled frown. “Yes, we want your help. Why? What's wrong with that?”

Charlie let out a loud snort of disgust. “What's wrong? You have the nerve to ask? Typical coastie, covering up for your own,” he said with a sneer. “Try taking a long hard look in the mirror. You'll find out everything you need to know.”

With that parting shot, Charlie spun on his heel and disappeared down below, slamming the cabin door behind him.

T
ake a long hard look in the mirror? What in the world was Turkow talking about? Rafe turned away, his mind whirling as he retraced his steps back to his car.

Was Charlie really implying someone from inside the coast guard was involved in the criminal smuggling ring?

Evan's cocky grin popped into his mind. No, that wasn't fair. Just because Evan was young and reckless at times didn't mean he'd betray his oath by participating in something criminal like this.

No, Rafe refused to consider that Evan, or any of his fellow crewmen would lower themselves to the point they'd participate in illegal activity. Charlie must be confused. They already knew the grizzled old charter fishing captain held some sort of grudge against the coast guard.

Obviously, the old man must have seen one of the coast guard cutters tailing Yancy's yacht or his own charter fishing boat for that matter, and had made a wrong assumption.

It was the only explanation that made sense.

But despite his efforts to think positive, Charlie's accusation of how they were protecting their own, kept
reverberating in his mind as he made his way to the coast guard substation.

Luke Sanders was waiting in his office. Rafe approached, automatically lifting his hand in a salute.

Luke returned the gesture and then waved his hand impatiently, anxious to get right to the point. “Let's see what you found.”

Rafe obliged by spreading the photos over the surface of Luke's glossy desk. “These fell out of Brianna's photo album. I have each man identified as one of the escaped criminals over the past year. You can see from the pictures, every one of them is on one of the Schroeder charter fishing boats.”

His commanding officer's gaze sharpened when he picked up the first photo and he let out a low whistle between his teeth. “This is perfect. We have them. We couldn't ask for better proof that Schroeder's charter fishing operation was really part of the underground criminal escape ring.” Luke clapped him on the back. “Good work, DeSilva.”

Rafe grimaced. “Thank you, sir, but we can't celebrate yet. Schroeder is dead. We need to find the guy in Kayla's sketch, Gregory Landrum. We won't get very far in this investigation if we can't get a hold of one of the key suspects.”

Luke nodded thoughtfully. “You're right.”

“Now we know why only photographs were taken from the boxes of Jeremy's belongings, though,” Rafe mused. “It's as if Landrum knew exactly what he was looking for.”

“I agree, Landrum is the key,” Luke said. “I updated Evan on the latest in the turn of events last night after sending him the sketch electronically, but he hasn't gotten back to me yet. I don't think Karl Yancy is your
guy, but I do think he's involved. There's no way Yancy or Landrum are working alone. The more I think about this the more I believe they're in this mess up to their necks together.”

“Yeah, that's the most likely scenario.” Rafe hesitated only for a moment, before giving his boss the rest of the information he'd discovered. “I showed the sketch to Charlie Turkow, he definitely recognized the guy and didn't seem too surprised when I told him we suspected the man in the sketch killed Schroeder.”

“So the old man does know something,” Luke surmised with a snort of satisfaction. “Why isn't he helping us out?”

Rafe blew out a breath, knowing he had to tread carefully here. “Well, sir, he told me to look in the mirror.”

“Look in the mirror?” His commanding officer's eyes widened as realization dawned. “He thinks one of us is involved?”

Rafe shrugged. “That's what he said, but it could be that he's noticed our cutters tailing his boat or Yancy's and made a wrong assumption.”

“Or he could be right.” Luke pinned him with a hard stare. “What do you think? Could there be any truth to the old man's claim?”

“I don't know, sir.” Rafe didn't like himself very much at the moment, because he couldn't honestly say no. It was possible that one of the crew was involved, even though he didn't want to go there. And Evan's arrival to the Great Lakes two years ago was almost perfect timing, considering they'd estimated the first criminal escaped eighteen months ago. “How well do you know Evan Marshall? He's the newest member of the team.”

Luke scowled. “Evan Marshall came with a solid
work history and strong recommendation from the crew on the northern Atlantic coast. You seriously believe he's guilty?”

“No, sir, that's not what I said.” Rafe didn't apologize for the inference, though. “I don't want to think any of our crew might be involved, but we can't ignore the possibility, either.”

“There must be a reason that old guy hates us,” Luke growled.

“I searched Charlie's background, and I didn't find anything that would give a hint as to why he might hold a grudge against the coast guard.”

“Hmm.” Luke stared down at the five photos spread over his desk. “Did you check to see if Charlie had ever applied to join the crew? Maybe his grudge comes from being rejected.”

Rafe lifted a brow. That was an angle he hadn't considered. “Good point. I didn't see any indication of that in his history, but it's worth going back to check again.”

“See that you do.” Luke gathered up the photos. “I wish Schroeder would have given us more to go on. If he was really trying to hide evidence to use as leverage, why didn't he hide more detail? Dates, times, new identities of the escaped crooks? Something solid to give us a clue as to where to start looking.”

Rafe could sense his commanding officer's frustration and he felt the exact same way. They were so close to breaking the case open. “I know. It's like we're one step closer but not close enough.”

“Hopefully Evan will get something on Yancy,” Luke said.

“Speaking of Evan, you need to send someone out to back him up, just in case Yancy catches on to him.”

His commanding officer looked surprised. “You're not volunteering?”

He wanted to, but he couldn't leave Kayla and Brianna alone. Not yet. Not until he knew they were safe. “No, sir. I've taken Mrs. Wilson and her daughter to a motel, but I can't just leave them to fend for themselves. Not when we know Schroeder hid the evidence in her home. Landrum has already proven how far he'll go in order to get them back.”

Luke narrowed his gaze and pursed his lips thoughtfully. “All right, you can stick close to her for another day or so, but if it turns out Yancy is our guy, I'll expect you to join the crew.”

Rafe gave a slow nod. He'd always known his duty was going to pull him away from Kayla, but he wasn't ready to leave her. Not yet.

Not until he knew she and Brianna would be safe.

He swallowed hard and turned away.

And prayed he hadn't made a huge mistake by not sending them both on the plane to Arizona with Ellen.

 

Rafe stopped at Pelican Point before heading back to the motel to meet Kayla. He parked his car in the small lot and walked over to the memorial Bill Schroeder had put up on honor of Kayla's husband, Jeremy.

The memorial had been strategically placed so that it overlooked the lakefront. He glanced down and read the wording engraved on the brass plate:

Placed in honor of Captain Jeremy Allen Wilson. May he rest in peace.

The inscription wasn't particularly profound. Puzzled, he shook his head. All along, he'd been bothered by this. It was the one piece that didn't quite fit. Placing this memorial was a nice gesture, but why had Bill
Schroeder gone through the trouble of putting this up two years after Jeremy's death? Wouldn't he have had better things to do with his time? Especially if he was planning to find a way out of the criminal smuggling ring?

Had the memorial been an excuse to get inside Kayla's house for the sole purpose of hiding the photos? Or had hiding the photos been a last-minute decision, an impulse he'd acted on when the opportunity had presented itself?

He stared at the memorial, trying to understand what Bill Schroeder had been thinking. The design of the memorial was simple, a four-foot high base made out of wood with a two-foot by two-foot square top, also made of wood. A brass plate was screwed into the wooden top, set at an angle so the reader could see the inscription better. But then he frowned when he realized the wooden top was a good three inches thick.

How strange. Wouldn't it have been cheaper to use a half-inch board? Why had Schroeder bothered to make the top so deep?

Deep enough to hide something?

A shaft of anticipation stabbed deep. Rafe couldn't contain a sense of excitement. He jogged back to his jeep, and rummaged in the back. He found a hammer and a crowbar, and took both tools back over to the memorial. He lifted the hammer, pausing only for a moment as he acknowledged Kayla would likely be upset if he tore this apart only to find nothing inside.

But he didn't believe he'd find nothing. Three inches couldn't be a coincidence. The rest of the memorial was built very simply without a lot of expense.

No, he wasn't wrong about this. Lifting the hammer, he slammed it hard against the top of the memorial. It
took several blows before he was able to knock it loose. One last hit and the two-foot by two-foot top of the memorial dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.

It didn't break open, so he picked up the crowbar and went to work. Schroeder had built the top of the memorial very sturdy, as if to protect whatever was inside. Finally Rafe pried the top board off.

The hollow top fell apart to reveal a notebook nestled inside. His heart pounding with anticipation, he picked up the notebook and opened it.

Names, dates and new identities of the escapes were all neatly recorded in the spiral notebook.

Luke was right. Schroeder had documented everything.

He tucked the notebook under his arm, picked up the shattered base and hauled everything back to his jeep. He needed to head back to the coast guard substation ASAP. They needed time to go through the entire contents of the notebook.

They finally had exactly what they needed in order to solve the case.

 

Kayla blew out a breath of frustration. Brianna was bored. They'd played numerous card games, watched a movie on television, and it wasn't even lunchtime.

How in the world would she keep her daughter entertained for the rest of the day?

“Why can't we go outside?” Brianna asked for the zillionth time. “It's sunny and the snow from last night is already melting.”

Kayla rose to her feet. Rafe had mentioned they could take a short walk. And Clyde needed to go out again anyway. He was just as antsy as Brianna. “All right, we'll go for a walk. Get Clyde's leash.”

“Yay!” Brianna happily pulled on her coat and picked up Clyde's leash from where Kayla had looped it over the back of a chair. When Clyde saw the leash he began jumping around excitedly, knowing he was in for a treat.

Kayla drew on her own coat, double-checking to make sure she had the room key in her pocket. When they were ready, she opened the door and let Brianna and Clyde run outside.

The sound of her daughter's laughter made her smile. Maybe this was exactly what they needed.

With the sun shining high in the sky, the temperature warmed to the point where they could open their coats. She twirled the edge of her knitted scarf as they walked. Very unusual to have temperatures well above freezing during December in Wisconsin, but Kayla wasn't going to complain.

She had no doubt there would be plenty of snow soon enough.

“Maybe this is far enough,” Kayla said, halting in her tracks. They'd taken the winding back highway from the motel, toward the small town of Willow Creek, and she'd estimated they'd gone about a mile.

Ironically, she thought of the day they'd gone to Pelican Point. They'd wandered a mile along the lakeshore and had found the dead body floating in the water.

Bill Schroeder. She hadn't known that at the time, but it still gave her the creeps to think about it now.

So much had happened since then. It seemed like weeks instead of days since Rafe had come back into her life.

“No, Mommy,” Brianna protested. “Can't we walk for a little while longer? Please?”

Just then she heard the sounds of bells. Church bells.
In the distance, she could make out the peak of a church steeple in a break between the trees.

“All right, we'll walk a little while longer,” she agreed. Brianna skipped with glee and Kayla hurried to catch up with her daughter and the ever curious Clyde. She couldn't deny a pang of curiosity that made her want to follow the pretty sound of the church bells and to catch a glimpse of the church.

What day was it? Tuesday? Were there church services on Tuesday mornings?

Maybe, if it was a special occasion.

The highway curved and as they rounded the bend, Kayla realized they'd gotten much closer to the town of Willow Grove than she'd realized. And there, off to the left was a small church, nestled in a small clearing surrounded by trees.

There was a parking lot off to the right, and she was surprised to see there were at least two dozen cars parked there. As they came closer, she realized there were people walking into the church.

Did the bells signal the start of the service? Was this a regular service or something special? She wasn't sure but she had an overwhelming urge to find out.

“Bree, tie Clyde to that tree there, would you?” Kayla asked. “I want to go inside for a few minutes.”

“Okay.” Apparently, Brianna was agreeable to anything that didn't require her to turn around to head back to the motel.

Her curiosity was stronger than the feeling of acute self-consciousness as Kayla held Brianna's hand and walked into the church. Beautiful stained glass windows lined the walls, and there was a cross hanging in the front of the church. There weren't that many people seated in the pews, and she slid into the back,
concerned that maybe this was either a wedding or a funeral service.