Sabotaged

  “The timing would suggest so.”

  “Not to mention our close call at his trailer,” Reef added.

  Camille plopped two glasses on the table and reached for a pitcher of tea. “I wouldn’t put it past Henry to hold a grudge, but . . .”

  “But?” Reef nudged.

  “Kidnapping a girl seems a bit extreme, even for him.”

  And murder didn’t? The man had killed his own partner.

  “Do you have any idea where we might find him?” Kirra asked, the hope in her voice nearly bringing Reef to his knees. If only he could fix this for her.

  Camille sighed. “I don’t know if my telling you is the right thing. Not for Henry’s sake, mind you, but for yours. You have no idea the kind of man you’re dealing with. When he feels cornered . . . it ain’t good.”

  22

  Kirra waited in the rental car while Reef entered the Roadside Bar. Camille had told them she’d heard Henry had been frequenting their old haunt. Kodiak being a small community was working to their advantage, though Kirra couldn’t help but wonder if it might work to their disadvantage too. Watts had to know they were coming. Had the trip wire been intended for them?

  She shifted restlessly, not thrilled with the idea of sitting this one out, but from the look of the clientele she’d seen come and go since their arrival ten minutes ago, it had probably been the wise call. Though she doubted Reef looking like a model out of a Hollister catalog would blend in well with the roughneck crowd.

  Ten minutes later, she started tapping a crescendo on the plastic dash, needing to get out the antsy energy coursing through her. What was taking him so long?

  Another ten minutes and she got out of the car, striding to the front door. She pushed through to find near darkness, despite it being the middle of the day.

  Cigarette smoke infused the air, AC/DC blared over the speakers, and every man in the joint turned to give her a once-over. When her eyes fully adjusted, she searched frantically over the L-shaped interior. No Reef.

  A chill tingled down her spine. Where is he?

  The only other female in the place was the bartender—slender with short brown hair. “Let me guess,” she said, her eyes on Kirra as she set a beer in front of the man at the end of the bar. “You want the good-looking one that was in here?”

  Was? “Yeah.”

  “He’s out back.” She gestured to the rear door.

  “Thanks.” Her heart pounding in her throat, Kirra strode for the back door, a hundred different scenarios racing through her mind, none of them good.

  She burst through the exit door, the sun glinting bright in her eyes. She lifted her hand to shield them. “Reef?”

  “Over here, Kirra.”

  She followed the sound of his voice to find him sitting on the open bed of a truck with a large man.

  Reef stood and walked toward her.

  She looked past him at the man, who smiled back at her. “Everything okay?” she whispered as Reef reached her side.

  “Yeah. Sorry. Emmett and I got talking.”

  “Emmett?”

  The tall man stood and strode toward them. He extended a thick hand. “How ya doing?” He was nearing six-five, easily two hundred and eighty pounds, broad shoulders, bulging biceps.

  She shook his hand, his grasp sturdy, though she could tell he was trying to be gentle.

  “Emmett used to help my dad with fishing excursions way back when.”

  “Yeah.” Emmett raked a hand through his tangled dirty-blond hair. “Last time I saw Reef he was about yay high.” His large hand hovered near his thick waist.

  Kirra smiled, her heart finally settling. “Is that right?”

  “Emmett was telling me he saw Henry Watts in here last week.”

  She tried to contain her excitement. “Oh?”

  Emmett folded his massive arms across his burly chest. “Yeah. No idea where he’s holed up at, but like I told Reef, I’d be careful. Prison did nothing to settle Henry down.”

  Kirra waited until she and Reef were pulling out of the parking lot before getting directly to the point. “So we keep an eye on this place hoping Henry shows up?”

  “Emmett had a better idea.”

  “Oh?”

  “Suggested we talk to Watts’s girlfriend.”

  She hiked her brows.

  Reef smiled. “Emmett works as a short-order cook over at O’Dell’s Diner. He said one of the waitresses has been spending a lot of time with Watts lately.”

  “Great. Let’s go.”

  “She’s off today, but Emmett said she will be in for the breakfast crowd first thing tomorrow.”

  She hated to wait another second. “Any chance he knows where she lives?”

  Reef shook his head. “Nope. Said Charity likes to keep to herself.”

  “So our chances of getting anything out of her . . . ?”

  “Are probably not great, but you never know. We can pray, when you explain about Meg, that her conscience will kick in.”

  Kirra looked back at the bar as it faded in the distance. “So what’s the story with Emmett?”

  “He had it rough growing up. My dad took him under his wing, but after Dad passed, Emmett stopped coming around.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Yeah. Selfish as it may have been, I was too preoccupied with my own pain to think of anyone else, but Cole tried to keep him on as we transitioned Dad’s fishing business into Last Frontier Adventures.”

  “But Emmett wasn’t interested?”

  “I don’t know. He was comfortable with my dad, but I got the feeling he wasn’t around us kids . . . Maybe felt like he didn’t belong.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “Yeah. It is. I told him next time he’s visiting Yancey he needs to stop by for dinner.”

  “I hope he does.”

  Reef tapped the wheel as he pulled back onto the main road. “Me too.”

  Reef saw Kirra settled before returning to his room, uneasiness tugging at his gut. He was right next door, but it didn’t feel close enough, not when they were being hunted.

  He gazed out the window, checking the nearly empty parking lot. There’d been no sign of the man chasing them since their near drowning, but he doubted the man had given up. Question was—had they finally eluded him or was he simply biding his time before closing in? Reef shut the curtain, moved to the bed, and dropped to his knees.

  I’m out of my league, Father. I’m not a cop like Jake or Landon. I just want to protect Kirra, to help her find Meg, to keep Frank and her safe. Please guide us. You know the men responsible. You see through all of this. Please lead us in the right direction and wrap your arms of protection around us. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

  Turning out the light, he crawled into bed, stretching his arms behind his head. He’d be surprised if he slept at all.

  Kirra opened her eyes, the space around her disorienting. Everything within her screamed something was wrong. Her gaze fixed on an object poised about a foot over her head.

  “Hello, darling.”

  She blinked. The voice was rough, foreign.

  She scrambled back, her head bumping hard against the thick wooden headboard, the room dark except for the flashlight glaring in her eyes, illuminating the silver-toned bat.

  “Easy there.” He held the bat steady—now inches from her face, black lettering imprinted along its sleek metal surface. “See this?”

  She nodded.

  “Stop looking for Henry Watts, or next time I come swinging.”

  Reef’s feet hit the floor before his brain processed what he was hearing.

  He yanked the door open, and Kirra rushed into his arms.

  Not that he was complaining, but . . . “What happened?”

  His blood boiled as she relayed the terrifying event.

  A quick call had the local police on site within seven minutes, but there was little to report. Kirra hadn’t gotten a good look at the man—he’d been shrouded in shadows, the bat he held the
only thing she could describe with any certainty.

  “You heard his voice,” Reef said.

  “Yeah.” She nodded.

  “Did it sound like the guy on the snowmobile?”

  Officer Bohart frowned. “What guy on a snowmobile?”

  Reef explained—what was pertinent at least.

  Kirra cut in. “This guy’s voice was different. Distinct.”

  “Distinct how?” Reef asked.

  “Gravelly. The other guy’s was simply deep, and his inflections were different.”

  “Great.” Reef sighed. “Now we have two guys threatening us.”

  “I spoke with Officer Bohart,” Jake said over the phone as Reef paced the hotel room after explaining all that had happened since they’d talked that afternoon.

  “Yeah, I told him it would be a good idea if he touched base with you. Anything on your end?”

  “Well, we found something new about Rain—or should I say, Joseph Keller. He’s got a long rap sheet, including being a principal suspect in a vandalism case involving NorthStar Oil and their newly laid interior pipeline.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Police didn’t have enough evidence to make it stick, but they are convinced it was the work of Joseph and his accomplice.”

  “Who . . . I have a feeling you’re going to say we know.”

  “You got it—Samuel Matthews.”

  “Are you kidding me? Sam acted like he barely knew Rain, let alone partnered in vandalism with him. He made it seem as if Rain was just some guy who showed up when he wanted and no one except the girls really liked.”

  “And that makes Sam a prime suspect in my mind. When Kayden and I got back to Kaltag, we discussed the pipeline angle with Gage and Darcy. We’re concerned Frank is being pressured by ecoterrorists to sabotage one or more pump stations. I’ve arranged to meet a NorthStar maintenance engineer at one of the stations, but if nothing comes of your search for Henry Watts, we think you should head back to Seward to question the students—especially Sam Matthews—about ROW’s involvement in any vandalism.”

  “We can do that. But Kirra can’t see her uncle sabotaging a pump station, Jake.”

  “A desperate man will do a lot to save someone he loves.”

  “I guess.” Reef would do nearly anything to protect his family, but endangering others . . . ? It wasn’t right. They needed to find Meg before it came to that. Before whatever job Frank was supposed to do was complete. “You know what I’m thinking . . .”

  “What?”

  “I’m starting to think we are off track with this whole Henry Watts chase. Frank said other people might get hurt. How does retrieving a Fabergé egg endanger others?”

  “I don’t know, but as long as you are this close, let’s keep at it. Maybe it is somehow connected with the ecoterrorist angle.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Henry assessed his options. Maybe he found another plan already in action and offered his services to the environmentalists.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I’m just spit-balling here, but maybe Watts promised to give Joseph Keller or Sam Matthews or the cause a percentage of his proceeds from the Fabergé egg once he fenced it in exchange for something he needs from them.”

  “I suppose it’s possible.”

  “At this point I’m not discounting anything.”

  “Well, I should probably get some shut-eye. Any sign of Frank?”

  “Grabbed more of his dogs’ and his food rations sometime during the night. Must be hitching his team and tracking in by foot, because no one saw him come or go. One of the checkpoint volunteers just noticed his ration bags missing after her break.”

  “So he’s keeping up with the race front runners for the most part, just off course.”

  “So it would seem.”

  “Which leaves us little time.”

  “You need to find Henry Watts ASAP.”

  23

  KODIAK, ALASKA

  MARCH 15, 9:30 A.M.

  Reef held the door for Kirra as she entered O’Dell’s Diner, where Emmett and, more importantly, Henry Watts’s girlfriend, Charity Driver, worked. Kirra hoped her personality held true to her name. They could use all the charity they could get.

  Reef had tried to convince her to stay at the hotel or police station while he continued to track Watts’s whereabouts, but that wasn’t happening. She was the one Henry’s man had threatened, it was her uncle being used as a puppet in some criminal’s scheme, and her cousin was being held hostage. She was not sitting this one out.

  “Table for two?” the hostess asked.

  “Actually—” Kirra began, only to be cut off by Reef’s affirmative, “Yes, and could we sit in Charity’s section?”

  “Whatever floats your boat.” The hostess removed two laminated menus from the bin fixed to the hostess station and shuffled Reef and Kirra through the maze of tables to a booth by the front window.

  “Thanks,” Kirra said as the hostess handed her the sticky menu smelling of grape jam and syrup.

  “Your server will be right out.”

  Kirra looked at Reef. “Smart. Getting us seated in her section.”

  He smiled. “Harder to avoid us if she has to wait on us.”

  Charity took her sweet time before approaching with two glasses of ice water—though Kirra doubted the two misshapen chips of ice bobbing in the lukewarm water classified it as iced.

  “What can I get you folks?”

  Reef started the conversation, charming as always. “Actually . . . we’re trying to get in touch with an old friend and heard you were the lady to talk to.”

  She smacked her chewing gum, the sugary scent of grape infusing the air. “Is that right?”

  “Henry Watts,” Kirra said, trying to keep her voice even.

  “’Fraid I can’t help you. Henry and I are no longer an item.”

  Kirra tried to smother her joy. That little fact greatly lessened the likelihood of Charity’s desire to protect the man. “That’s too bad. Know where we can find him?”

  Charity stopped tapping the order pad with her pencil and eyed them skeptically. “Whatdya want with Henry?”

  “Just to talk,” Kirra said. “We think he may be able to help me find my cousin.”

  Charity chuckled. “Henry ain’t much of a talker.”

  “Please,” Kirra said. “My cousin’s in serious danger.”

  Charity glanced around the diner, and after a moment’s hesitation she leaned in. “Okay, but you didn’t hear this from me. Henry’s right-hand man, Curly, makes a daily drop-off at the post office right about this time. If you hurry, you may be able to catch him.”

  “What does he look like?” So they knew they had the right guy.

  “You can’t miss him. Six-two, with a mop of curly brown hair.”

  “Great. Thanks.” Kirra stood and moved to slide past her.

  She tugged hold of Kirra’s arm, her skin dry, cracked. “A word of advice?”

  “Of course.”

  “Curly ain’t no peach, but he’s nothing compared to Henry. Watch your step.”

  “Thanks, Charity.”

  Reef and Kirra rushed out of the diner to their car, driving the short distance to the post office. Better to be sheltered by the car than sitting ducks in the open. Plus they’d have transportation to follow the man, praying he led them to Henry.

  Reef held Kirra’s hand as they pulled to a slow stop five hundred feet away from the old garage Curly had parked in front of. They’d stayed far enough back to avoid detection, or at least Kirra prayed so.

  They waited in their rental car until he entered through the front glass door covered with thick paper that had once been black but was now a faded shade of grayish blue.

  Approaching the building quickly, they pressed against the stucco side.

  “What do you think? Should we call Officer Bohart?” Kirra asked, unsure of the best way to proceed.

  “Let’s confirm Watts is
here first,” Reef said, signaling for her to move around the building with him.

  All the windows were covered with the same fading and curling black paper, leaving small slits at the windows’ corners for peering in. The first two revealed nothing but an empty storage room. It wasn’t until the window by the back entrance that they spotted two men—neither of them Curly. The fact that the only picture they’d seen of Watts was his booking photo twenty years ago—combined with the dimness of the room—made it impossible to tell if one of the men was Watts.

  “What are they doing?” she whispered.

  The two men were bent over a workstation—one appeared to be studying something beneath a large lit magnifying glass.

  Reef pointed to a long brown string running between two metal shelving units. “Looks like passports hanging on the line.”

  “Document fraud,” Kirra whispered as they turned from the window.

  “Call Officer Bohart,” Reef said.

  She dialed, heard the operator answer, and then froze as Curly appeared around the edge of the building with a gun in hand.

  “Put down the phone, darling.”

  The gravelly voice of her night visitor with the bat.

  “Kodiak police station. Hello?” the operator said again.

  Kirra did the best she could to stall. “Look, we don’t want any trouble.”

  “I said, drop the phone!”

  She put the phone in her pocket, careful not to turn it off.

  “I don’t think so.” Curly shook his head. “Put the phone on the ground.”

  She moved slowly, trying to give the police enough time to find their location.

  “Now!” Curly roared.

  She reluctantly did as instructed.

  Curly took a few long strides over and crushed her phone with the heel of his boot. “Both of you inside.” He waved the gun toward the rear door, which opened for them, a grizzled man waiting on the other side.

  “So you’re the two that have been looking for me.”

  “Henry Watts,” Kirra said, trying to keep her gaze on the man and not on all the document-fraud equipment and evidence surrounding them.