Dark Waters (2013) (21 page)

She just stood there looking desolate. Tiny. Big dark eyes drenched in regret.

Families were ripped apart every day. He knew this from vivid personal experience. Hell, look at his relationship with his brother—still damaged. After his arrest, he’d purposely tried to alienate Finn because he hadn’t wanted to drag him down to the gutter with him. Finn had been saved by Thomas Edgefield. Anna had her mother, but after the woman remarried, he knew she’d put more effort into making things work with her new husband than making time for the teenager who’d fallen apart.

The knowledge left him aching with regret, even though there was nothing he could have done to help the girl Anna had been. He wasn’t the sort of man to save people. He just did his damnedest to survive.

Brent turned away. The walls started to press in on him, so he started searching. Fast. He checked all the obvious places and then started on the places cons used. Behind light fittings, along the backs of pipes, inside the mattress and bedposts. He started tapping on the walls. He had some custom-made hidey-holes in his place although he now stashed most of his arsenal in what was technically Laura Prescott’s backyard.

He’d gone to prison for murder at age sixteen, and he’d earned his tough reputation in the worst way. At the time he’d
had nothing to lose and no hope for the future. But as he got older that reputation stuck, and there was always some badass wanting to prove Brent Carver was really a pussy. Survival had been one of his main priorities when he’d gotten out, and bending a few rules had seemed prudent. Now he wanted it over. He wanted his past far behind him. May as well wish for the moon or front row seats at the Victoria’s Secret Christmas Show.

He really needed to call Finn and ask if they’d caught the suckers who’d followed Anna to the island, but he couldn’t face him yet. Didn’t want to hear the accusation—or worse, hurt—in his brother’s voice.

“There’s nothing here.” Anna hung onto the door frame and leaned into the bedroom. “What are you doing?” she asked as he held the mattress aloft. That schoolteacher voice of hers sent a bolt of something primal down his backbone and he tried to shake it off. He needed to get laid. Find some woman who didn’t mind a casual and impersonal relationship.
In exchange for what, asshole?
Money? He hadn’t sunk that low. So he may as well get used to abstinence. Again.

Ignoring Anna’s question because it was obvious what he was doing, he dropped the mattress and decided to call Finn. He used one of the burner cells.

Finn answered on the first ring with a vehement, “What the fuck are you involved in?”

Dread coiled inside him. “Why?”

“You were right about someone coming to your place. Freddy caught one bastard walking up the front steps about to knock on the door with a semiautomatic.” His brother’s voice was tight with fury.

Shit
.

“But they missed his partner, who took out one of the ERT guys and then escaped after assaulting a local man and abducting his wife.”

“Who?”

“Mitch and Megan Teague.”

Brent felt like they’d ripped out his insides. “Is Megan all right?”

“Sonofabitch is sly as a fox. He dumped her in the bush twelve miles west of Lake Cowichan. He made a call from a gas station that effectively turned the manhunt into a search-and-rescue operation and stole another car—you know how many gravel roads are out there. We lost him, but we’re canvassing all the island hotels and airports looking for someone who might fit his description.”

But he’d be long gone and they both knew it.

“Megan get a look at him?” He remembered Megan Teague as a tiny redheaded kid who’d followed him around when he was a young teenager. Cute with freckles and a spitfire temper.

“We don’t know.” Finn’s voice grim.

“Did he hurt her?” Brent’s voice dropped to just above a whisper.

“She’s not speaking.”

Anna stepped closer. “What is it?” she asked quietly.

But he couldn’t tell her. Another cop had been killed and a young woman traumatized. And if he hadn’t gone to see his parole officer yesterday morning, if the warden hadn’t called him straightaway—chances were, despite his promise to keep her safe, Anna would be dead. Nausea rose up in his throat and he had to force it back down to concentrate on what Finn was telling him.

“You can’t fuck with these people, Brent.”

“I’m not.” Sweat broke out across his back. “I swear I’m not. I don’t know who they are or what they want. I haven’t broken any laws, Finn.”

“Good to know.” The voice had changed. Holly, cold and pissy. “I’ve got a dead cop and a lot of angry colleagues. I need to talk to you, Brent.”

“You
are
talking to me.”

“A man is
dead
. A man with a pregnant wife and a toddler at home. You think I won’t haul your ass into jail if that’s what it
takes to catch these people?” Fury vibrated down the phone line and he could almost hear it being traced.

He sat on his friend’s bed and thought about what Davis would do in this situation. Anna sat next to him. Her hands shook even though she couldn’t hear all the conversation.

“All I know is Davis is dead and Anna turned up on my doorstep a couple of days ago. Davis left a phone message telling her he’d mailed her evidence about someone stealing money, but he didn’t say where he’d sent it. Once we find whatever the hell it is, we’ll take it straight to the police.”

He could hear Holly’s brain working. “That’s everything?”

“Yeah.” Pretty much. Except the dead cop in Chicago and his PI with a bullet in the back. He toyed with telling her that, but then it wouldn’t take her long to figure out where they were and he didn’t want to get dragged off to jail. Not even for his own good.

“Is Anna telling the truth, Brent? Are you sure you can trust her?”

“Absolutely.” He looked at the woman at his side. Hell, yes, he trusted her. He’d honed his instincts on murderers and criminals. Every emotion showed in those big green eyes, from uncontrollable fear to pissed-off attitude to random flashes of physical attraction. Yup, she’d be a shitty poker player, but he trusted her. If there was anyone he didn’t trust, it was Holly—wearing the same uniform as the people who’d arrested him all those years ago. But he was working on that and so was she.

There was a long silence. His stomach was tied in knots. What if she insisted they turn themselves in? The seconds ticked by like a bomb countdown. Was she waiting for the trace to finish? He almost hung up at the thought. Trust was so damn hard.

“Whoever killed that cop last night was a professional. We have roadblocks set up, but from what Finn tells me, the chances of finding him are slim to none. He’s after Anna, Brent.”

“Without that evidence she’ll never be safe. As soon as we find it, we turn it over to the nearest cop shop and everything will go back to normal.” Or as normal as it got, anyhow.

“You’d be safer in protective custody.”

He wasn’t convinced, not when these people were so determined to find Anna they’d already killed two police officers who’d gotten in their way. If he voiced his doubts, Holly would take it as a personal challenge and he wasn’t about to put the woman his brother loved in danger. It was bad enough risking Anna. “Then no one’s searching for whatever the hell Davis sent Anna. That’s the key to catching these assholes—you know it is.”

“Fine. I’ll start asking more questions at the place where Davis Silver worked. Keep me informed. If you need my help, call. Here’s your brother again.”

“You need to get your ass back here, bro,” said Finn.

“I need a couple of days, max.”

“Anna needs proper protection.”

And he wasn’t up to the job. Good to know.

“Just don’t get shot. It hurts.” Finn had been shot last year. “And don’t fucking die.”

Brent didn’t laugh. Visiting his brother in hospital last year was another life experience he could have done without. “I’ll do my damnedest not to.” He rang off, met Anna’s serious gaze.

“They went to your house?”

“Killed a cop.”

Her hand went to her mouth. “This is crazy.”

He didn’t mention Megan or her husband. “Our best chance of getting out of this alive is to find this evidence Davis sent.”

“You could just walk away. This isn’t your problem.” Her eyes glistened.

“Davis was my best friend. I made a promise. I’m not letting him down.” He took her fingers in his and squeezed. “I’m not abandoning you, Anna.”

There was a knock on the door and they both launched to their feet. It was nearly midnight. The apartment was only dimly lit from a couple of lamps, but maybe someone had heard voices or him knocking on the walls. His heart jackhammered. They were four floors up. If this was the bad guys they were screwed. He crept to the front door and used the peephole, cell phone in hand, ready to dial 911.

A little old lady with purple hair stood outside gnawing tangerine lipstick. Tension leached from him in a wave. This was probably the old lady Davis had talked about. The neighbor he’d befriended.

Anna stood next to him. Brent leaned down and whispered into her ear. “Old broad at twelve o’clock. Want me to take her out?” He slanted her a cool smile and Anna glared at him as she opened the door. Brent stayed hidden. No point giving away any more information than necessary.

“Can I help you?” Anna asked politely.

“You must be Anna, dear. I was so hoping I’d get to meet you.” The old lady grabbed both Anna’s fists in her gnarled hands and pumped vigorously. “I was so sorry to hear about your father. He was such a
good
man. Tragic. Just tragic.”

Anna’s mouth was opening and closing, trying to find a gap in the conversation.

“I was wondering when you’d come to sort out his things.” The old lady shuffled inside, and Anna was no match for old age or purple hair.

The lady squinted tiny eyes at Brent. She barely reached his navel. “And I recognize you, young man. Davis’s friend.” She nodded and her chin wobbled. “He’d be pleased to see you helping Anna out. Such a difficult time, going through everything.” Her voice broke for a second, and Brent tried to interrupt but she didn’t let him.

“I’m happy to help if you need me. You must let me know when the service is going to be.”

“They haven’t released his body yet, but I will be sure to tell you as soon as it’s arranged.” Anna got in a few words.

“Dreadful.” The woman seemed to run out of adjectives. “Some people from his office are trying to look through his mail.”

“They say why?” Brent shifted away from the wall.

“They gave me some baloney about Davis having mailed something from work accidentally. Something
very
important.” She rolled those tiny eyes. “Why would he mail himself anything from work? He’d just carry it home.”

Unless he didn’t want it on his person when bad guys caught up with him. Unless he wasn’t intending to go home.

“I spoke to a nice young man who claimed to be a private investigator. He told me he thought these people were dangerous and I had to be careful. But I told him I was too old to worry about any of that.” She waved neon-colored nails at him. “I survived the Nazis as a small child in Berlin, and things don’t get any more dangerous than that.”

Maybe so, but Brent still wanted to wrap her up and send her away somewhere safe. “Did they find what they were looking for?”

The old lady smiled coyly. “I’ve lived in this building for twenty years, young man, and I know the mailman pretty well. We decided he’d put Davis’s mail in my mailbox until his next of kin arrived. And now you’re both here.”

“I’m not next of kin,” said Brent.

“He listed you both as next of kin when he moved in. Said you were the son he’d never had.” The old lady tapped his hand and Brent felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. His eyes burned. Contempt was always easier to deal with than affection.

“You’d better follow me,” she said.

Grabbing their stuff and turning off the lights, they locked up and followed her across the hallway into an apartment that had probably last been decorated twenty years ago when she moved in.

The lady—Mrs. Viola Bernstein—handed Anna a thick wad of letters and flyers. “I thought about sorting through the junk mail but then figured it was your business, not mine.”

Anna whipped through all the pile and pulled out all the letters. But nothing looked like it had come from Davis himself.

“Thanks so much for being there for him, Mrs. Bernstein.” Anna’s expression spoke of remorse and guilt. He knew exactly how she felt.

“If there’s ever anything you need, you let me know,” Brent told her.

A smile dragged back those scary lips to reveal glowing dentures. “Now you mention it, my garbage disposal isn’t working. How about I put on a pot of coffee and you see if you can get it unclogged? Usually Davis would do it for me but…” She shuffled off, still talking.

Not quite what he had in mind. Brent leaned down to whisper in Anna’s ear. “If she knew I was a convicted killer she wouldn’t be so keen to get me in her kitchen.”

“I don’t know.” Amusement tugged the corner of Anna’s lips. “She looks more dangerous than you do. And who knows what she’s trying to get rid of in her garbage disposal.”

“Ugh. Thanks for the visual.” He rolled up his sleeves, squared his shoulders, and headed into the kitchen. “Don’t leave me alone with her,” he growled over his shoulder.

“Scaredy-cat,” she whispered as she followed him. She started opening envelopes at the small kitchen table. He took the wrench from Mrs. B’s arthritic fingers. May as well do a good turn. Christ knew, he had plenty to make up for.