Sea Glass Sunrise (28 page)

“Earlier this week. Before the fire.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Calder said. “My reaction exactly. Have you been able to talk to Jonah? How is Bit?”

“She must be terrified,” Hannah said. “I swear when you get him out of there, I’ll strangle him myself.”

“One thing at a time,” Logan said to her, then looked back at Calder. “Did she say how he took the news? Anything specific?”

Calder shook his head. “No, but I think the who and the why are pretty obvious now.”

“Yeah,” Logan said, then swore again as he rubbed his palm across the back of his neck. “We should have seen this.”

“How? I mean, Ted? Really? What does he want?” Hannah asked. “What does he want from Jonah? Or from you? Why the hostage deal?”

“He wants Jonah to agree to sign over his property to Brooks.”

“Holy—” Calder finished that epithet under his breath. “Like we said before, Jonah would never agree to that, even over his actual dead body.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Logan said.

“Bit!” Hannah gasped. “That’s why he has her—oh, Logan, what are you going to do? You can’t let anything happen to—”

“I’m not planning on letting anything happen to her. That’s why we got the SWAT guys here from Bangor. Lucky for us, they were doing some kind of training deal up in Lubec.”

“Has anyone talked to Jonah?” Hannah asked. “Can’t we just get him to say he’s going to sign the land over, to end this thing, then Ted gets locked up and he goes on with his life? Life being the key word there?”

“That’s what we’d like to see happen, but no, there has been no communication with Jonah as yet. Apparently Ted went to talk to him today about working out a deal to buy up the property, and, well, you can imagine Jonah’s response to that. One thing apparently led to another, and now Ted’s got the two of them in there at gunpoint.”

“He had a gun the whole time? So it was premeditated?” Hannah was already running through the process of where this would go once they brought it to a conclusion. A peaceful and safe conclusion, she prayed silently.

“I can’t be sure about that,” Logan said. “I’ve tried to establish communication with him.” He gestured to the bullhorn sitting on the hood of the nearest cruiser. “He just keeps saying it’s between him and Jonah, that it’s all up to Jonah.”

“Do you think bringing Brooks or Cami out here would—”

Logan swung his gaze from the boathouse to her. “I don’t want them anywhere near here.”

Hannah could have told him that she was pretty sure both Winstocks were being barely restrained on the other side of the yellow tape, but figured he didn’t need the added distraction. “I’m so sorry,” she said, putting one arm around him for a quick hug. “This is not how you should be getting ready for your big day.”

“Tell me about it,” he muttered, relenting for a brief moment and giving her a quick one-arm squeeze in return, before straightening and turning back to the matter at hand. “What the—?”

Hannah spun around . . . and saw Calder with the bullhorn in his hand, walking down the pier. “Holy—Calder!” she half shouted, half hissed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He just waved her silent with a hand behind his back, keeping his gaze focused on the boathouse at the end of the pier.

“Blue, get your ass off that pier before I have one of my guys shoot you off,” Logan barked. This was followed by the sound of guns being cocked and a murmur going up in the crowd being held at bay behind the rear cluster of squad cars and emergency vehicles.

Calder paused long enough to look over his shoulder. “Nothing else is getting through,” he said, raising his voice just enough to be heard. “Let me try this. I might be the only one who can talk to him.”

“Why on earth would he think that?” Hannah said. “He just told me he’d only piss Jonah off.” She thought her heart would leap straight through her chest as she watched Calder inch closer to the boathouse. “He doesn’t even know Ted.”

“I hope Ted doesn’t kill him,” Logan growled. “Because that would rob me of the pleasure.” He stalked off to bark orders at the SWAT guys and his own guys, leaving Hannah to stare, gripped by a fear she’d never felt before, at the pier.

She told herself she’d be freaking out no matter who it was putting his life stupidly in jeopardy, but she knew this went a lot deeper than that. Sometime over the past few days, somehow, he’d finagled his way a lot farther past her defenses than she’d allowed herself to truly admit. It was stupid and foolish and she was in absolutely no shape emotionally to even begin to think about having a relationship with anyone. And none of that, not one single bit of it, had kept her from falling for Calder Blue.

“Stupid Good Samaritan,” she muttered. “Stupid good guy, stupid hero, always having to do the right thing.” She paced back and forth, watching him move slowly closer, feeling her heart drop inside her chest with every step he took. “You know you don’t have to rescue everyone all of the time,” she called out to him, unable to help herself. She was about two breaths away from a full-on panic attack, and if Ted didn’t kill him, and Logan didn’t strangle him, well, she was third in line.

He stopped about thirty yards from the boathouse, then glanced over his shoulder, looking directly at her. Infuriatingly, he grinned, and winked, before turning back and lifting the bullhorn.

Chapter Nineteen

Calder’s palms were so sweaty, it was a miracle he didn’t drop the damn bullhorn as he fumbled with the ON switch. There was a loud, high-pitched squeal that made him and probably half the residents of the Cove flinch. Then it faded and he lifted the speaker to his mouth.

“Ted? Hey, it’s Calder Blue out here. I hear you want to talk a deal on this piece of property. Well, if that’s so, then you’ve got the wrong man in there.”

Even with the speaker, he could barely hear himself over his own heartbeat. What the hell had he been thinking, pulling this stunt?

Nothing from inside the boathouse.
Jesus
.

He lifted the bullhorn again. “You don’t know me, but I came here a few days ago to see Jonah. I had the very same talk with him that you’re having. He’s a stubborn son of a bitch, I know.”

He ignored the collective gasp behind him, and the resulting swell of murmuring voices.
Just focus on the boathouse.

“You see,” he said, then paused to take a breath, forcing the tremor out of the words.
Calm, casual, like you deal with deranged former council leaders every day.
“Jonah thought I was from the other side of the Blue clan, up in Calais. And that is true, I was raised on the St. Croix River. But the fact is, those kids that Jedediah took when he left? Yeah, turns out, they weren’t his at all. They were Jeremiah’s.”
Keep going. You’ve got this.
“So that means I’m not Jonah’s great-nephew. I’m the direct heir, straight from Jeremiah himself. Jonah is descended from his sister.”

The gasp this time was bigger, as was the resulting fury of whispering and murmurs, followed by the barked order from Logan for absolute quiet.

“So, Ted, you see, I’m the rightful owner here. I have proof. Proof even Jonah had to listen to. The thing is . . . we’re a lot alike, Ted. We both want the same thing. We’re tired of the old men in our families calling all the shots. Tired of being made to feel like we don’t know shit, like we can’t call our own shots, build our own dreams.” His voice took on more conviction as he spoke, only Ted didn’t have to know it was his own father he was thinking about, his own life. “They were us once, you know, and they just can’t let that go, can’t understand that their time is over.” He paused, wiped his free hand on his jeans leg, and swapped hands on the bullhorn. “It’s our time now, Ted. Our time. Jonah knows that. And now so does Brooks Winstock. So . . . what do you say, Ted? Can we talk? Because I can’t do this alone. And I think you’re just the man to help me. The Winstocks of this town have had it their way long enough. Time for us to make our own mark.”

He stopped talking then, not sure what else he could say. He waited one long beat, then another, feeling as if his heart were going to simply plow its way right through his chest wall. The seconds ticked on. Nothing. No response.

Defeat started to seep in, and he scrambled in his mind for what else he could say, how he could convince Ted that the only one with the power to give him what he wanted was Calder. He wondered if he should mention the man’s wife, but figured that was far too volatile a subject, and he didn’t know enough to go there. It had been a risk even bringing up Winstock’s name. But assuming Ted was in there trying to prove his worth to both the man and his daughter, he’d felt it was a risk he had to take. Make Ted think he really knew what was going on, knew all the players.

He wiped a hand over his face, and was just about to bring the bullhorn back up, to say God knew what, when the boathouse door groaned and rolled slowly open on its tracks. There was a flurry of sound and movement behind him, and he waved his arm as authoritatively as he could, praying no one did anything stupid.

The door opened about three feet, then stopped. A moment later, Jonah appeared in the opening, his feet and wrists bound, forcing him to shuffle slowly into the open doorway. Then Ted appeared behind him. He was holding a wide-eyed, tear-streaked Bit. And a gun.

Okay,
he thought,
so things just got more real.
At least he didn’t have to worry about being able to hear over his pounding heartbeat, because that particular organ had just stopped dead in his chest.

He had to force his gaze from the terrified little girl to look at Ted instead. He was a tall man with the look of an aging athlete, and classically handsome, in that prep-school manner some men never outgrew. Of course, he’d probably looked better than he did at the moment. His hair was a bit wild, as if he’d raked his hand through it repeatedly. He was sporting a few days’ worth of beard and the dark circles under his eyes either meant he wasn’t sleeping, or he was on something, or both.

“Ted,” he said. “Good to meet you. Calder.”

“What—?” Ted started, then stopped, coughed a few times, and wiped his forehead with his gun hand, dangerously bobbling the weapon, before steadying himself—mostly anyway—and looking out at Calder, and the sea of insanity behind him.

Calder prayed that the crowd didn’t spook him.

“What’s your offer?” Ted asked, finally, his voice sounding like rough gravel. “What are your plans?”

“That’s just it. I’m not a developer. I’m a contractor. I have the contract—my company does—on the yacht club. My plan was to talk to Brooks about going in on a development deal with me on the rest, but to be honest, all he’s done is dick me around on this contract and I’m starting to think he’s not the man for this. He’s too old-school, thinks his money is better than mine because he’s—well, I don’t rightly know why. Money’s money, isn’t it, Ted? And my family has been here just as long as his. He thinks he’s better because he made his money sitting his bony ass behind a desk, while my family made their fortune breaking their backs. Well, that’s a bunch of shit now, isn’t it, Ted? But you know that. You were the one running this town. You were the one getting things done. That’s the kind of guy I need on my team.”

Ted just stared at him, looking half glazed, half vacant. As if the enormity of what he’d done was starting to sink in, starting to take its toll. And though Calder knew jack about hostage negotiating, he’d stood across the table from his father. When Thaddeus got on a tear, which was pretty much every week, he acted almost as insane as Ted right now. And what Calder had learned was that it was imperative to strike with logic and clear thinking while his father still had the capacity to listen. Because once he went around the bend fully, there was no talking to him. In fact, Calder had suggested to his brothers, more than once, that they should have their father’s mental health evaluated, but they’d looked at him like
, Sure, you and what army?
Which . . . true.

“Hey, Ted, I tell you what,” he pushed on, shoving away thoughts of his father and what awaited him back home when word got back about this latest stunt. If he made it back home, that is. “This is between you and me. Jonah and I already have an agreement, but he can stay, too, if you want. Though I don’t see what good that will do. However, the last thing we need in there is some crying little kid. This isn’t day care, Ted. That’s all Jonah is good for, you know? Watching over the grandkids. We’re the ones making plans, making things happen. No time for that bullshit. Let her down so we can focus on what’s important here.”

“I can’t,” Ted said, frowning, as if he was trying to sort through the logic of what Calder was saying. “I need her—she’s leverage.”

“But that’s just it. We don’t need leverage.” He patted his breast pocket, like there was magically something in there, when quite clearly there was not. “I have it all right here. Jonah’s signature on the dotted line. We don’t need the kid, Ted. We’ve got all the power. Or we will, once you and I strike a deal. Brooks already let me down. I’m counting on you to be smarter than he was. I’ve already proven my worth to Jonah.”

He glanced at Jonah for the first time then, and the fury in the old man’s eyes was so ferocious, so intense, it was a miracle Calder didn’t burn to a pile of soot on the spot. He noticed the gash on Jonah’s temple then, and the blood that had run down over his cheek to his neck. He’d wondered how Ted had gotten the bigger man trussed up like he was. He supposed that answered that question. He also supposed the fury in the old man’s face wasn’t about the shit Calder was talking, but about the fact that he was putting his great-granddaughter front and center in this little tableau.
I’m trying to save her, old man.

“How about it, Ted?”

Ted wiped his brow again, gun wobbling, and Calder switched his focus back to the younger man, blocking out the murderous look on Jonah’s face. He couldn’t die twice, so the guy with the gun had to be top priority.

“You’re juggling enough,” Calder said to Ted.

“I wanted kids, you know,” Ted said abruptly. “I wanted them. I wanted to give Brooks grandkids. Wanted that, just like he did. It was Cami who didn’t.” His voice broke on his wife’s name, and Calder thought that was a sign that bringing her up was not a good idea.

“Well, with this new deal we’re going to make, the hell with Brooks and the hell with her, too. You’re a young man, Ted. Young and virile, just starting to make your name. No doubt you’ll be able to stake your claim wherever you want. Plenty of time to start a family, build your own dynasty, one with your name attached. Weathersby. Not Winstock. She’ll regret not believing in you. Trust me, I know all about that.”

He saw Ted truly begin to waver, saw him stand a little straighter. He also held the gun a little steadier.

“But I’m not talking to you as long as that kid is here. Let her go, then let’s go inside, discuss this like men.”

“Dumb bitch,” Ted shouted suddenly. “Doesn’t she understand? Doesn’t she realize what it feels like?”

“I know what you mean. Put the kid down, and we can swap some stories. I know Jonah has a bottle or three stashed in there somewhere.”

Ted laughed then, and it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Yeah. If I didn’t blow that up along with his damn boathouse. He should have known then. Who was in charge.”

“Like I said. He’s too old-school. Too stuck in his ways to realize he’s already on the way out. Well, he knows it now.” Calder patted his breast pocket. “We have the power now, Ted. Put the kid down. Let’s talk.”

“Yeah, old man,” Ted said, grinning as he popped Jonah on the side of the head with the pistol grip. “Who’s got the power now?”

It took great effort not to look at Jonah, who reeled slightly from the blow, but kept his stance, though he briefly rested his shoulder on the door frame for balance. Calder kept his gaze on Ted. “The kid, Ted. Come on. You’re smart enough to deal with me. Those are my terms. Jonah can go or stay, but I don’t babysit. I make deals.”

And just like that, Ted let Bit go, all but dropping her to the pier as she half slid, half dropped from his arms. Calder didn’t look at her; he kept his gaze on Ted, who immediately stepped behind Jonah, and put the gun to the old man’s temple.

“Everyone else can go now,” Ted screamed. “It’s over, okay? Just a business deal now.” He cackled and tapped the gun barrel to Jonah’s temple. “Just a business deal.”

Yeah, so that’s not exactly how I hoped that would go
, Calder thought. Bit was still standing on the pier, looking up at her great-grandfather, tears welling again.

“You go on now,” Jonah said, speaking for the first time, his voice gruff but otherwise surprisingly gentle. “See that lady? You go talk to her. I need to talk to Ted here. Then we’ll get some ice cream.”

Bit looked from Jonah to Ted, her bottom lip quivering.

“Go on,” Jonah said, and Calder could see what the gentle tone was costing the man. He was visibly shaking. “See the nice lady? Go to her. I’ll be done here in a minute.”

Calder risked a quick glance over his shoulder, and what was left of his heart rose right up into his throat. Hannah was just behind him, about ten yards back, crouching down with outstretched arms, beckoning to Bit. “Hannah,” he hissed, but she didn’t look at him.

“I’ve got coloring books, Bit,” she called out. “Let’s go play until your Pawpaw is done, okay?” She wiggled her fingers.

Bit looked uncertain and Calder knew the window was closing.

“Go on now,” Jonah said, a bit of impatience creeping into his voice. “You know better than not to listen to your elders.”

She nodded, bottom lip still wobbling, but then she took off down the pier toward Hannah. Calder let out a breath so loud he thought he’d be light-headed. He didn’t watch Bit, he watched Jonah. The man’s gaze was locked on the little girl, so Calder knew the moment she and Hannah had made it off the pier, because that was the same moment a little of the tension went out of Jonah’s frame.

Calder looked at Ted, and lowered the bullhorn, taking a few steps closer. “Do we really need him?” he said, talking conversationally now, as if the worst was over. When it was anything but. “Let him go with the kid.” He looked at Jonah. “You go babysit while we do some real business, old man.”

Even though Jonah knew, quite clearly, that this whole thing was a bunch of bullshit, the fury in his eyes when he looked at Calder was quite real.
I just saved your great-granddaughter,
he wanted to shout at the old coot.
So back the hell off.

“I don’t know,” Ted said, looking stronger now, less uncertain, which Calder belatedly realized was not necessarily a good thing, since he was still holding a gun to Jonah’s temple. “Maybe it’s time he was really done. Show this town we mean business.”

Calder tried not to show any of his real reaction to that; instead, he looked disgusted. “Seriously, Ted? We don’t have time for this bullshit. And I don’t have time to walk you through the legal minefield you’re going to be in if you shoot the guy. He’s a pain in the ass, no doubt. God knows I’ve wanted to shoot him pretty much every minute since I met him. But there’s no time for that.”

“Fuck this,” Jonah said; then in a move faster than Calder would have thought possible, he brought his bound hands up, snatched the gun, turned, and cracked Ted in the skull with the butt. The younger man dropped straight to the dock in a limp, lifeless heap. Then Jonah shuffled inside the warehouse, pulled a gutting knife off the wall, bent over, and snapped the cords on his ankles with hardly more than a flick, then stalked down the pier, all while Calder stood there, gaping at the hulk of a man. “What?” he said, as he passed by. “You expected me to stand there with a gun to my head while you talked him to death?”