Rock Harbor Series - 03 - Into the Deep (7 page)

“Drop it, Ian,” Lola said sharply. “No one wants to hear your views anyway.”

Bree could sense the hostility between the two researchers. “Do you all dive? I saw Yancy in the water earlier today.”

Lola nodded. “It started with Yancy. He got hooked on scuba, then talked us into taking lessons. His new formula depends . . .” she broke off. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about it.”

Ian shrugged. “Women can’t keep their mouths shut,” he snapped. “But I doubt Bree would understand it anyway.”

“Probably not,” Bree agreed. “I’ve gone down a time or two, but it always scares me. I like my feet firmly planted on terra firma.”

Ian gave a curt nod and walked away.

Bree raised her eyebrows and looked at Lola. She frowned and shrugged before turning in the opposite direction.

“They were dating,” Nora said as soon as Lola was out of earshot. “It never pays to date a coworker. I tried to tell them. Now we all have to deal with the fallout until they get over it.”

Bree spotted Nick coming in the door. She waved at him, and he joined her and Nora. She introduced them, but Nick barely acknowledged her presence.

“I was wondering if you were here,” Nick said.

Bree noticed how he ignored the baby in her arms. He’d always spent a lot of time with Davy, and she’d often wondered if he really liked all children or was using Davy to get to her.

“How long are you off-duty?” she asked.

“Three days. I thought we might take Davy out fishing one day.”

“I’ll have to see. I need to do what I can to help Mason find the murderer.”

“Yeah,” he looked around and lowered his voice. “Surely you’ll need a break sometime.”

“You could take Davy and go one afternoon,” she offered.

He frowned. “It’s not nearly as much fun without you.”

He sounded like Davy when he didn’t get his way. The pouting was even less attractive in a grown man. Bree forced a smile. “I’ll see if I can get away a few hours.”

His face cleared, and he smiled. “How about I take you to dinner when this is over?”

“I’m exhausted. I just want to stay home and veg out.” Just thinking of smiling and keeping up with Nick’s energy made her tired. What did that say about how she really felt about him?

“Tomorrow?”

“Okay. Why don’t you come to the house, and I’ll fix us dinner.”

“Is it safe?” He grinned. “I’d rather take you both out.”

Bree couldn’t help but compare him to Kade. The big ranger never
made her feel her cooking was sub par even though she knew it was. But Nick was a gourmet cook in his own right. No wonder he found her offerings to be less than adequate.

She decided not to make an issue out of it. Why should she complain about not having to cook? “As long as I get to pick.”

He groaned. “You’ll just pick the Suomi. I want a good steak. Let’s go into Houghton.”

“Davy hates steak.”

“Steak joints have hamburger.”

She didn’t know why she was being difficult, but she was tired of accommodating everyone else. “Let’s go for pizza.”

“Fine. I can endure pizza for one night.” He gave her a quick kiss then went toward the receiving line.

“Handsome man,” Nora said. “His whole attention was on you.”

“He’s a fireman,” Bree said.

“I thought I heard you were seeing that
bonito
ranger,” Lola said.

“I was.” Bree changed the subject. Her love life confused her, so she could only imagine how it looked to others.

The next day a storm front had pushed out the bright summer weather and replaced it with a cold drizzle more characteristic of autumn than late June. Weather in the U.P. was always unpredictable, and June could be capricious. Bree had learned to always carry jackets as well as yellow slickers for her and Davy in the Jeep.

“I hate rain,” Naomi grumbled beside her in the Jeep.

Bree’s cell phone rang. “Grab that, will you?” She tossed her cell phone to Naomi.

Naomi answered it. “Kitchigami Search and Rescue. Naomi speaking.” She listened a moment. “Just a minute, you’d better talk to Bree.” She covered the mouthpiece. “It’s Cassie. Her father is missing.”

Bree pulled off the edge of the road. This lane was too narrow to try to negotiate while on the phone. “Cassie? What’s wrong?”

Cassie’s voice was barely recognizable. “I came home for lunch to check on Dad. He’s nowhere to be found. Bubbles and I have been looking, but . . . Can you bring Samson and see if you can find him?”

“I’ll call in the team.” She looked out at the drizzle. “I don’t suppose he has a jacket on?”

Cassie’s sigh was loud in the receiver. “I have no idea. The last I saw him this morning, he was in pajamas.” She gave a hiccup. “This is my fault. I should have put him in the nursing home. I knew it wasn’t safe to leave him.”

“We’ll be right there. The dogs will find him. The moisture in the air actually helps them.” She clicked off the phone and dropped the gearshift into drive, then turned the Jeep around and headed toward town. Naomi made the necessary calls to the team. They dropped Davy off with Anu at Nicholls’ Finnish Imports, then drove out to Cassie’s house.

Cassie and Bubbles were waiting curbside when they got out of the Jeep. Bree let the dogs out and went to join them.

“You’ve got to find him, Bree.” Cassie’s face contorted. Samson whined and pressed against her leg as if to offer comfort. She dropped to her knees and buried her face in his fur.

Bree put her hand on Cassie’s head, but she knew the best comfort would be to find her dad. “Do you have a scent article?”

Cassie raised her head and nodded. “I’ll get it.” She seemed to collect herself, then went to the door. The rest of the team began to arrive while Bree waited for Cassie to return. Once she had the search article, Bree sent her team out. She took Samson into the open field next to the house and let him sniff the socks Cassie had brought out in paper sacks. Samson sniffed the bag and began to wag his tail. He crisscrossed the field with his nose in the air then headed toward the woods across the road.

Bree glanced at the darkening sky and winced. The storm clouds obscured the sun and made the interior of the forest even darker. Hypothermia set in quickly in these conditions, especially with the
elderly. An added problem was the density of the forest. The trees were so close together they were hard to walk through.

Cassie loped along beside her as she ran after her dog. Charley shot past them and raced after Samson. Naomi jogged behind them. They entered the woods, and their progress slowed. Brambles tore at Bree’s jeans, and she had to force her way through the thick tangle of vegetation. Crushed evergreen needles stirred the air with pine scent.

“How old is your father?” Bree asked, pushing a tangle of vines out of her way.

“Sixty-five.”

“Young for Alzheimer’s.”

“He’s got the early-onset kind,” Cassie said, panting as she tried to keep up with Bree. “Some of the time he’s pretty good. It’s just that you never know when he’ll get one of his fuzzy days and go wandering.”

“I didn’t see him when I was at your house last week. He’s done this before?”

“Never. I hoped this day wouldn’t come, though Salome tried to warn me.” Her voice sounded thick. “He sleeps a lot—he was napping when you were there—and he’s not any trouble. I’d hoped to keep him home until . . .” Cassie looked away.

The dogs began to bark, then Samson came running back to Bree with a stick in his mouth. Charley was right behind with a small branch as well. “They’ve found him!” Bree petted her dog. “Show me, Samson.”

Samson, his tail waving proudly, led her toward a stand of white pine. The tree limbs drooped close to the ground. She couldn’t see into the thick branches, but the dog stopped in front of it and barked. “Shh. Quiet, boy.” He whined and pressed into the branches.

Bree stooped and peered under the trees. A heavy scent of pine wafted up her nose. “Mr. Hecko, are you in there?”

“Doggone dogs. Won’t give a body peace at all.” The grumble from under the pine boughs sounded strong, and Bree looked over her shoulder at Cassie and smiled. “Sounds healthy enough,” she said.

“Daddy, come out from under there,” Cassie said. Her voice sounded strained.

Bree parted the boughs and shined her flashlight into the shadows under them. The man sat on a bed of pine needles. His hair stuck up on end, and he had five pens clipped to his pajama top. A fancy calculator was in his pocket, and he clutched a small microscope. “You ready to go home, Mr. Hecko? It’s almost time for supper.”

He shrugged then crawled on his hands and knees out from under the trees. Once in the open, he brushed the debris from his pajamas. He looked pale, and he was shivering. Bree whisked a solar blanket from her ready-pack and wrapped him in it. He clutched it around his chest, and she noticed his hands. Long, slender fingers like those of a pianist. They looked firm and supple and younger than his age.

“I’ve got work to do. The lab is expecting me,” he muttered.

“Let’s get you inside.” Bree took his left arm, and Cassie took the other. They walked him out of the woods and across the road to the house. Naomi called in the rest of the team and dismissed them, then called the ambulance.

Bernard was shivering so hard by the time they got to the house, Bree was beginning to worry. They got him inside, and Cassie wrapped an electric blanket around him while they waited on the ambulance.

“My discovery will benefit the world,” he muttered. “You have to finish it, Cassie.”

“I will, Daddy.” Cassie thrust a cup of hot tea in his hands. “Drink this. It will help warm you.”

“I can’t find my notes. Did you take them?”

“No, you filed them away, remember?”

He nodded. “I must find them. The research is so important.” He touched Cassie’s face. “You’re a good girl, Cassie. I never told you how glad I am you’re continuing my research.”

“You told me, Daddy.” Tears spilled over Cassie’s lashes, and she stood and stepped away. “What am I going to do, Bree?”

“I think you’ll have to hire full-time help for him. Either that, or—” Bree looked away.

“Or a nursing home,” Cassie concluded. She rubbed the tears from her face with the back of her hand.

Bree wished she could help. Mr. Hecko seemed a fine man, and she could tell he and his daughter were close.

Bernard scratched his chin and looked up at Bree. “You look just like your mother when I first met her,” he said.

Bree smiled. The poor guy must be mistaking her for Cassie, though they didn’t look alike as far as she could tell. “Are you getting warm now?”

Mr. Hecko continued to stare at her. “I never thought I’d see you again, Bree.”

How did he know her name? She’d never met him. Her attention caught on the gold ring on his pinky finger. A black slit ran through the center of the yellow stone and resembled the eye of a tiger. She stared at it, wondering where she’d seen it before. A sick feeling made her gulp.

She stared into his face then glanced at Cassie. The younger woman wore a strange expression—maybe resignation? Bree looked back at Bernard Hecko’s ring. A familiarity settled over her. Her pulse thumped against the skin in her neck, and she felt almost faint as she remembered where she’d seen the ring—and Bernard.

She remembered a man her mother called Uncle Bernard. Bree used to twist a ring just like that around on his finger. He said it belonged to a tiger named Meow. She still remembered the stories he told her about the big cat.

Her gaze traveled back to his face. He was smiling at her. Her throat constricted. “You’re not . . . Uncle Bernard?”

He smiled, and his eyes cleared even more. “I see you looking at Meow. You remember, don’t you? Even though it’s been so long, you still remember.” His voice quavered, and his eyes reddened.

Bree gripped his hand. “Uncle Bernard, it
is
you.”

He patted her hand. “It’s me, my girl. You haven’t forgotten your old man.”

Her old man.
What did he mean? Bree tried to pull her hand away. “I never figured out how you were related. Are you my father’s brother or my mother’s?”

His smile faltered, but he tightened his grip on her hand. “Neither, Bree.” He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his wrinkled neck. He looked at Cassie. “I can’t tell her, Cassie. You’ll have to do it.”

Cassie stepped forward. Her voice was resigned. “He’s your father, Bree. Our father.”

Her father? Bree shook her head. “No. You’re wrong.”

The last trace of fogginess in Bernard’s watery green eyes disappeared, leaving his gaze lucid and clear. He gripped her hand so tightly she winced. “Your mother never wanted you to know who I really was. She thought people would talk.” He shook his head. “Like they weren’t already.”

With every passing moment, he seemed to become a different man, focused and alert. He raised a hand that steadied the closer it got to Bree’s cheek. “So pretty,” he crooned. “You were always so pretty. Your hair is a little darker now than it was when you were a little girl.”

Bree felt frozen in place. She glanced around for Naomi. The sympathy in her friend’s eyes steadied her.

“You had a little girl,” she muttered. Bree remembered a small, solemn child who followed her around. She tore her gaze from Naomi’s and studied Cassie. “Cassandra? You were Cassandra?”

Cassie’s face was full of emotion: hope, fear, trepidation. She went to the coffee table and grabbed her purse. She pulled out a faded picture and handed it to Bree. “See if you recognize the children,” she said simply.

Bree stared at the photo. She recognized her smiling mother and Uncle Bernard. Her own five-year-old self sat on the floor in front of them with her arm around a little girl with dark curls. The resemblance between the two children was remarkable, only Bree had red hair and
Cassie had brown. Bree glanced back to Cassie. Cassie’s green eyes swam with tears, and Bree knew where she’d seen those eyes before. Looking back at her from the mirror.

“Breathe,” Naomi whispered in her ear. She put a steadying hand on Bree’s arm.

6

B
ree wanted to bolt from the house. She stared into Cassie’s face. “You’re my sister?” she croaked past a throat that felt wrapped in Spandex.