Two more cops joined them, but their sympathies and exchanges were muted in Chase’s ears. He lowered himself onto the edge of the dock and watched his dreams go up in smoke. As time ebbed away, the culmination of four years worth of work slowly sank into the bay.
An ambitious reporter appeared from out of nowhere. “Mr. Cohen, is that your boat? Were any of your men on board? What do you think happened to it?” He spouted half a dozen unanswered questions before the cops finally escorted him away. Members of the Coast Guard and fire department arrived shortly after. They all assured him that a thorough investigation would ensue, his men would be called in for questioning, no stone would be left unturned. But the only thing Chase could do was stare at the destruction – at the drifting, heart-wrenching debris.
A tall man came up behind him. “One leaky propane canister, a faulty electrical box and a nice insurance policy. Put them together and a man’s problems would virtually go up in smoke.
The false accusation brought Chase to his feet and back to his senses. It was a known fact that the harbormaster had a huge crush on Rachel throughout high school. Any respect Chase might have garnered from the belligerent man in the past was lost the day he left town.
“
If what you say is true, then how the hell did I do it?” Chase asked. “How did I get
Alegria
into the channel and out in the bay if I spent half the day in court on the other side of town?"
“
You could have hired someone.”
“
With what?”
“
My point exactly.”
“
So what are you telling me? You’re going to ride my ass instead of trying to find out who really did this?”
The harbormaster’s tight mouth told him all he needed to know. No assistance would be forthcoming. No justice would be served. If the guy had his way, it would take weeks, maybe months before an official determination was made. By that time, the
Wanli
claim would be long gone.
Chase was left alone to mourn his loss. He used the silence to steal a glance toward the Crow's Nest Bar. In the crowd, a copper-haired hustler with a sinister face seized his attention. Their blue eyes locked and in that undefined moment, Chase knew without doubt who was responsible.
Skylar Zane.
No one had more to gain from his wreckage, from his complete ruin. With his boat out of the way, the scavenger would have free access to the
Wanli
and everything she held on board.
Chase charged down the gangway, hell-bent on breaking the man’s neck. With less than thirty feet between them, Ian swooped in, blocking his determined path.
"How’d it happen?" he asked. "Were there witnesses?"
Chase shoved him aside, but to no avail. His nemesis had already slipped away.
“Shit!" Chase bellowed. "Zane was standing right there, grinning like a goddamn possum…watching
Alegria
burn and sink. I know it was him! I
know
he did it!"
Ian followed Chase's line of vision before turning back around. "There's nothin’ to be gained by going after him. Tis a matter of words and no proof ta back ‘em. Rest assured, mate, when the time’s right, I’ll pay him a little visit."
The ice in Ian's steel eyes told Chase his faithful friend would follow through on his promise. Even if it meant chaining the creep's ass to a two hundred-pound anchor and lobbing them both into the bay.
“
I’m so sorry.”
Chase heard Rachel’s voice. He looked down and was surprised to see her warm hand resting on his forearm.
"I heard all about the fire on the news. I can’t imagine how this could have happened."
His vision brushed over her snug jeans, her white half-buttoned blouse. Her beautiful parted lips. Somehow her presence at the worst moment in his life soothed him and lessened the pain of his loss.
"If there’s anything at all I can do…" Rachel’s voice trailed off. Her hand slipped away.
"Ah, jeez…the chain!" Ian erupted. "Tell me it wasn't aboard."
Crap!
Chase squeezed his eyes shut, praying it was all a horrible mistake. A bad dream he'd suddenly wake up from. He'd been so enamored by Rachel the day before he’d foolishly left the treasure behind.
"Chase?" Rachel's voice tugged at his ear.
"We had our first taste of gold yesterday," he explained. "An incredible find. Now that’s gone too."
"Jaysus,” Ian moaned. “Ya gotta be kidding me.”
Chase heaved a heavy breath. “I’m cursed. You’d be wise to get as far away from me as you can.” He reached into his pocket. He looked down at his boat keys and pitched them as far as he could into the ocean.
Ian layered his arms and angled his head. “Yer not cursed, mate. Don’t ya be thinkin’ that way. If Zane’s got a hand in this, there won’t be a safe place in this world.” He heaved a sigh. “For now, let’s grab us a wet one, toast
Alegria
and figure out where we go from here."
Chase laughed sarcastically. “Exactly where is that? If it hasn't soaked into that thick brain of yours yet, we're salvage divers without a boat. We're finished, Ian."
The helmsman's meaty hand landed on Chase’s shoulder. He stared into his face. "Miss Lyons and her foundation offered to help us out. What’s ta say we can’t accept? Get us a brand new boat and finish the job we started."
Chase looked down. He was still mourning the loss of
Alegria.
Replacing her so quickly seemed callous and disloyal.
"Don't be forgettin' what's important here," Ian added.
Chase lifted his eyes, glimpsing the charred remains floating in the distance. There was more at risk than he was willing to admit. He looked back at Rachel and swallowed his pride. “Can you still help me out?"
Her hesitance told him otherwise. "I don’t know what to say. The trustees are under the impression that your company's stable and fully equipped. They would never cover the cost of a new boat."
He snorted a laugh and shook his head. "Of course not. Why would they?”
Rachel stared at the ground. When her gaze met his, she appeared to be mulling something over. "There is another way,” she said. “But I have to be directly involved."
"In
what
?" he asked. “Selling pencils?”
"No, Chase. With all the relics and treasures discovered during your six-day expedition. At that time, you’ll return to San Palo where I’ll prep, document and store them. We’ll work independently with the understanding that this is a business arrangement and nothing more."
He almost laughed, but the look in her eyes told him she was deadly serious. “And just how do you propose that we find these relics and treasures?” he asked.
"My uncle came to see me," she explained. "He tracked down
Stargazer
and convinced the new owner to sell her back. She's being brought out of dry dock as we speak. You'll have complete say-so on how she's run, just as long as you stick to our agreement."
Stargazer?
It was too good to be true, but what about Rachel? He wondered. “You wouldn’t be coming along?”
She shook her head.
“
I’m still not clear. What do you expect to get out of this?" he asked.
"I'd be working on behalf of the foundation and museum, ensuring all our obligations are met.”
Our obligations?
Her words puzzled him. “And what about payment? Surely you’ll be expecting a percentage out of this.”
“
Not at all. My salary takes care of me. My only concern is how quickly you can get this job done.”
Really?
Her extraordinary generosity and timing should have set off warning signals, but the opportunity to man
Stargazer
overshadowed any doubts and concerns. Sam’s yacht was a salvager’s wet dream. Four cabins, eight berths, fly bridge, twenty-six mph cruise speed, twenty-foot beam, five-and-a-half foot draft hull, fifty-ton displacement. She’d been outfitted with every possible amenity: Zodiac raft with Evanrude motor, hydraulic hoists, Max Air compressor. A fifty-four hundred liter fuel tank. Anyone would be a fool to refuse such an offer. And even better yet, with the foundation now funding his costs, Blaine’s investment would no longer be needed. Should he choose to come along as a member of the crew, Blaine would pocket ten percent, just like the rest of his men.
"Okay,” Chase said. “You’ve got a deal.” He held out his palm for a quantified shake only to have it pressed with a set of keys.
"I’ll handle the necessary calls,” she said. “You’ll find her fully stocked and ready to go at the end of Pier Thirty-two at 7 A.M. And one more thing, Chase. There’s a satellite phone on board. Make sure you use it for my daily reports." With that she turned and walked away.
Chase hadn’t done anything to deserve her kindness, her generosity. Her sudden change of heart. So what had spurred it? He watched her gorgeous backside sashay down Main Street until she vanished from view and found himself wondering if he’d missed a swagger or a contemptuous note in her voice.
Ian’s joviality cut into his thoughts. "Can ya believe that? What an amazing woman.”
Chase massaged his jaw. “Yeah, isn't she something?" Regret had become a constant in his life. For more than four years, not a single day passed without him wishing he’d made other choices. Now, in his darkest hour, the woman he’d discarded and whose father he was responsible for killing had the perfect opportunity reveal in his despair. Instead she had thrown him a lifeline.
Inconceivable.
Even with his helmsman’s enthusiasm bursting at the seams, Chase’s instincts told him something was wrong. This "arrangement” had the potential to overshadow everything on his languishing list of regrets. He glanced at the entrance to the Crow’s Nest Bar then back at Ian.
“
About that drink...make it a double and you’ve got a deal.”
* * *
Rachel wove around pedestrians emptying into the streets and parked vehicles lining the curb. Having seen the news report on television, she'd immediately suspected Pollero's involvement in the explosion. But after appearing on the scene and digesting Chase's full account, she realized the gangster had nothing to gain by destroying
Alegria
. In all probability, her newly acquired partner had an enemy of which he wasn’t even aware.
It suddenly dawned on her that by providing Pollero with a censored update, she might be afforded an opportunity to speak with Devon. Just the sound of her brother’s voice would lessen the stress and assure her that he was still breathing. With renewed purpose, she continued on her path, heading north on First Street towards Howard’s Hardware. Her silver Kia would be waiting at the far end of the lot where she’d parked it. Absentmindedly, her cell phone had been left inside.
With one look to her left, her heart skipped a beat. She spotted a black leather trench and all-too-familiar head of hair traveling on the opposite side of the street.
Bo Novak.
What was he doing here? Did he know where Devon was being held? If she could find out, there might be a possibility of rescuing him – once she knew what he was up against.
Pollero’s errand boy crossed in front of a moving car and continued north on 5
th
Street with long enthusiastic strides. Rachel narrowly missed being seen when he cast a backward glance in her direction. Even though she feared a physical confrontation, Bo's caginess pulled her along. When he reached the light at Callow Street, he turned right and detoured down the alleyway between Macy's Café and the All Night Market.
Rachel glanced around before slipping into alley behind him. With brick walls blocking the light, she stepped carefully around trashcans and a discarded appliance box where a bum had taken up residence.