The Seductive Impostor (24 page)

“If you don't want to start another turf war,” Kee warned Duncan, “over a woman instead of a fishing spot, then keep your distance from Willow in front of Jenkins.”

Duncan snorted. “Why are women always attracted to men in uniform?”

“You tell me, Captain Ross,” Kee shot back with a grin. “I remember when you had to beat them off with a stick.”

Townspeople had started to gather on shore, some in only their bathrobes, all watching in horror as the fishing boat, not two hundred yards out, burned on its mooring. The whine of the fire engines drowned out their comments as they labored to pump water through the hoses being dragged out to the burning boat by firefighters in another, much smaller boat.

There was a sudden explosion, a collective flinch from the audience, and Kee saw Larry Jenkins pull Willow and Rachel into the shelter of his arms to shield them with his body.

Kee gritted his teeth and stood where he was.

“I can make sure Jenkins's truck is missing more than just a lug nut,” Duncan offered, scowling at the deputy sheriff, who was taking his damned good time to release the women.

Kee shook his head and moved into the crowd. He watched the firefighters quickly pull back from what was left of the burning hull as debris from the explosion rained over them, the water, and the remaining boats in the harbor.

Another boat with four firefighters was dispatched, and the two boats then focused their efforts on putting out the small fires on the other moored boats caused by the falling fireballs of debris. Several fishermen in rowboats started out from the docks, desperate to save their livelihoods.

Rachel stepped away from Jenkins and scanned the crowd of onlookers. She looked startled when she spotted Kee, as if she'd forgotten about him. She pivoted and started walking toward one of the fire trucks.

“Look for anyone with a beard who fits Jason's description, and keep an eye on him,” Kee told Duncan before heading after Rachel.

“Ronald, do you know the name of the boat?” Kee heard Rachel ask a firefighter standing beside one of the fire trucks.

Ronald turned from watching the gauges on the truck, his face suddenly lighting into a smile. “So you're talking to me again?” he asked loudly, to be heard over the rumble of the engine. “How's the knee?”

Kee kept his distance and looked out at the harbor, as he continued to listen.

“It's fine,” he heard Rachel say. “Do you know the name of the boat that's burning?” she repeated, even more loudly. “And is the owner here? Has he been notified?”

“What are you, a reporter now?” Ronald asked.

Kee turned just enough to see Ronald give Rachel a calculated grin. “Have breakfast with me later, and I'll give you an interview.”

“We're losing water pressure!” someone yelled from the shoreline.

Ronald snapped to attention and turned back to his gauges. “It's the
Sea Dancer,”
he shouted over his shoulder as he turned a valve. “I don't know who owns it, but I think the guy's on the dock.”

Rachel took off in the direction of the dock. Kee caught up with her just before she reached it, grabbing her shoulder to stop her. She turned around with a gasp of surprise.

“Kee,” she said, looking past him toward the crowd. “I thought…what…where's Duncan?”

“You need to stop, Rachel,” he softly told her, guiding her away from the crowded dock and the noise of the fire engine. “The last thing I want is for you to draw attention to yourself.”

“I'm not. I live here. It's normal that I'd be curious. And why is my drawing attention to myself the last thing
you
need?”

“Because whoever is burning these boats won't like you asking questions,” he quietly explained. “What's going on, Rachel? Why are these boat burnings so important to you?”

“They're happening in my town.”

Kee shook his head. “Not good enough. Why were you rifling through Alder's files today? You were looking for the blueprints of the boat that burned last week, weren't you?”

She crossed her arms under her breasts, stared up at him, and remained mute.

Kee took hold of her shoulders. “Rachel, asking questions about arson can be dangerous.”

He looked out at the harbor, then back at her. “How are the boats tied to—” He suddenly stiffened. “Dammit. This does involve Sub Rosa,” he whispered, leaning down to look her in the eye. “They're smuggling boats, aren't they?”

She still said nothing.

“And you and Willow know that for a fact, and you're trying to…to what, Rachel? Even if you know they're smuggling boats, what do you hope to accomplish by looking through Alder's files and talking to the owner of the boat? What are you looking for?”

When she still said nothing, Kee shook her. “Dammit, Rachel, you have to trust me! You have to tell me what's going on so I can protect you.”

“I am not in danger,” she finally said, her expression defiant. “I want to find Willow and go home.”

“Everything okay over here?” Larry Jenkins asked, walking up to them. “Your sister's looking for you,” he said, darting an accusing glare at Kee before giving his attention back to Rachel.

“I was just going to find her,” Rachel said, pulling out of Kee's grip and turning toward the crowd. “We're leaving.”

“I can't walk you home,” Larry said. “I have to stay here.”

“I'll see they get home safely,” Kee interjected, nodding to Jenkins, who didn't seem to care for his offer.

The chaos in the scene suddenly turned frantic. Desperate shouts rose above all the noise, and the crowd of onlookers, some of them pointing, collectively moved down the shore.

“Someone's in the water!” one man yelled. “There! He's floundering!”

Kee started to run and could see that Duncan was already swimming out into the harbor, ahead of a couple of other men. Kee reached the water's edge, Jenkins and Rachel beside him, just as Duncan reached the person.

The ambulance crew pushed through the crowd, and Kee pulled Rachel out of the way. Willow came over and stood beside them as they watched Duncan start back with the now seemingly listless swimmer.

Jenkins and one of the paramedics waded into the water and took the victim from Duncan, carrying the person to the gurney on shore.

Rachel gasped, her hand on her chest. “It's Mary!” she cried, grabbing Kee's arm. “It's Mary Alder. Oh my God, Mary,” she whispered, going to her.

Kee stopped her, pulling her so that her back was against his chest, wrapping his arms around her protectively. “You can't help,” he said softly. “You'll just be in the way.”

Duncan waded out of the water and came over to them. He pulled his shirt off over his head, wrung it out, then used it to wipe down his face and hair before slipping it back on. He walked a bit farther away from the crowd, herding Kee and Rachel and Willow with him.

“She's dead,” he said softly, his tone even, giving Rachel and Willow a sympathetic glance before looking back at Kee. “But she was alive when I reached her. She said something.” He shrugged. “I barely understood, but it sounded like ‘Find' or ‘Find her,' or something like that.”

Kee tightened his arms around Rachel when she stiffened.

Duncan leaned in closer and lowered his voice even more. “She was burned some, but that's not what killed her. She'd been shot.”

Rachel lifted her hands to her mouth on a soft wail, and turned in Kee's arms to bury her face in his chest. Kee held her tightly as shivers racked her body.

Willow bent at the waist, hugging herself, and Duncan swept her into his own embrace, whispering useless words of comfort.

“You're freezing wet,” Willow said, suddenly lifting her head. “You're going to catch a chill.”

She broke free and ran to the ambulance, leaving Duncan empty-armed and looking confounded. But his frown quickly turned to a grin when Willow came running back with a blanket.

“Thank you,” he said, bending down so she could wrap it around his shoulders. He looked at Kee. “I'm thinking we should get ourselves home,” he softly declared. “And it just might be time to find that strong length of rope.” He looked from Kee to Willow, then back to Kee. “Maybe two lengths of rope.”

Kee stared at him, confused, until he remembered his vow to tie Rachel up if he had to, to get her on board the
Six-to-One Odds.
He nodded to Duncan.

“What do you need rope for?” Willow asked.

Duncan wrapped one arm around her, covering her shivering body with the blanket, and turned and started toward the road. Kee saw Willow stiffen, then let out a sigh and meekly go with him.

He peeled Rachel off his chest enough to look into her eyes. “I'm sorry about Mary,” he told her. “But we need to go home.”

She looked over at the ambulance, saw they were loading Mary into it, then straightened and turned to follow Duncan and Willow.

Before she'd taken three steps, Kee swept her off her feet and into his arms. “You're limping. You've worn out your knee tonight.”

“I'm too heavy,” she said with a gasp, grabbing his neck. “You can't carry me—it's over a mile home.”

He settled her into a more comfortable position and kissed her blushing cheek. “I could carry you to the moon, Rachel.”

R
achel woke up with what felt
suspiciously like another hangover. Her head throbbed and her body ached. But unlike yesterday morning, this morning she was alone in her bed.

She could hear somebody talking downstairs, and realized it was Mikaela chattering nonstop, a deep male voice breaking in every so often.

Last night came back to her in a rush—the boat burning, the horror of the scene, and Mary.

Mary Alder was dead.

Shot, Duncan had said.

Murdered.

Kee and Duncan had wasted no time hustling her and Willow home then, not even bothering to get Larry's truck from the alley. Kee had carried her into the house and straight up to bed, then given her a quick kiss on the cheek and turned around and left.

Rachel had rolled over and cried herself to sleep.

Something crashed to the floor downstairs, there was a moment's silence, then male laughter and little-girl giggles rose up from below. Rachel caught herself smiling. Little-girl giggles were such a wonderful sound—precious and heartwarming and so endearingly innocent.

Rachel blew out a heavy sigh, slowly sat up, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The room didn't spin, and the throbbing in her head increased only a little. She looked at the clock, discovered it was nearly ten, and stumbled her way to the bathroom.

Willow was already there.

“Good morning,” Willow said softly, looking only a little better than Rachel felt. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” she assured her. “Why are we whispering?”

Willow nodded toward the hall. “Kee's still asleep in Mikaela's room.”

“I thought Luke slept in the other bed?”

“He did,” Willow confirmed, smiling. “When I peeked in on the way to the bathroom at five this morning, Luke was in one bed with Mikaela's giraffe, and Kee and Mikaela and Mickey were in the other bed. It was the cutest thing. Kee was flat on his back, Mikaela was sprawled across his chest, and Mickey was curled up beside them with one of his paws lying over Mikaela's leg.”

“But they're twin beds in that room,” Rachel pointed out with a smile of her own. “We have another spare room with two more beds in it, and Mom and Dad's room.”

Willow shrugged. “Duncan and Ahab used the spare room. I guess Kee just wanted to be with his daughter.”

“Good God. Our house is full,” Rachel whispered with a crooked smile, then suddenly sobered. “What was Mary doing in the harbor last night?”

Willow's smile disappeared just as quickly. “I don't know. Do you suppose she burned those boats?”

“Mary?” Rachel asked, thinking about that. “I guess she was capable of it. Physically, I mean. But why?”

“For the same reason she took the designs from the boatyard,” Willow suggested. “To protect Thadd.”

“You don't commit arson to protect a dead man. There's got to be another reason. How about Mark? Could she have been trying to protect Mark?”

“From what?”

“Dammit,” Rachel said in a whisper. “I don't know. Maybe Mark's the one who's been stealing from Sub Rosa and Mary was trying to stop him before he got caught. Maybe he was using the boats just as Thadd did.”

Willow nodded slowly. “That would make sense. But who shot her?” she quietly asked. “Not Mark,” she said, shaking her head. “I don't even see him smuggling art. He's simply too straitlaced for something like that.”

“Did you hear what Duncan said?” Rachel asked. “Mary said ‘Find her.' That's the same thing Dad said to me just before the paramedics arrived.”

“ ‘Find her,' ” Willow repeated, staring out the bathroom window, then back at Rachel. “Find who? Is the smuggler a woman?”

“I suppose it could be a woman,” Rachel quietly agreed. “But do you remember a guy who used to visit Sub Rosa every so often?” she asked, still whispering. “Neither of us liked him. You said he looked like he should be selling snake oil.”

Willow's eyes widened. “I remember him. Why?”

“Looking back, I'm pretty sure he was the smuggler Thadd dealt with. Remember how Dad used to make us stay away from Sub Rosa whenever he visited? I think it was because he didn't want us to overhear anything.”

“It's been years since the guy's been around here,” Willow said, hugging herself. “Do you suppose he's come back? And that he could have shot Mary?”

“It's possible. He would definitely know about the stolen art if he helped smuggle it in. And he would know it's just been sitting here for the last three years.” Rachel shrugged. “It's the perfect crime. He'd be stealing something that no one even knows exists. And while searching for it, he probably helped himself to some of the legitimate art. That would explain the missing items.”

“But why now?”

“I don't think it's been only recently. Someone's been using the tunnels for years. He's probably been looking for it ever since Thadd died.”

“Looking for what, exactly?” Willow asked.

Rachel leaned into the hall and checked both ways, then stepped back into the bathroom and quietly closed the door. “Think about it, Willy. If we had those stolen things in our house, what kind of stuff do you suppose Thadd had in Sub Rosa?”

“But where is it?”

“In a secret room Thadd had built.”

“There's a secret room in Sub Rosa? Where?”

“I don't know. But I think Dad built it the summer you and Mom and I went to Paris. He certainly didn't want me to know about it, so he waited until I was gone.”

“Then how do
you
know about it?”

“It was in the letter, Willy. Dad mentioned the room in the letter he left with Wendell.”

“Dammit. You shouldn't have burned it.”

“It was incriminating.”

“You should have showed it to me first.”

“You would have done something about it.”

“Of course I would have. You're talking about millions of dollars in stolen art!” she whispered tightly.

“And that's exactly why I burned it,” Rachel shot back.

Willow stared at her, her arms crossed under her breasts. “So we're back to that,” she said softly. “All this sneaking around and putting yourself in danger to protect me.”

“Why are you and Kee insisting I'm in danger?”

“You've been roaming through the same tunnels a smuggler's been using,” Willow started, holding up her fingers to count off her reasons. “You nearly broke your neck escaping from Sub Rosa the night Kee arrived.”

“Who told you that!”

“You snooped through Mark Alder's files,” Willow continued, ignoring Rachel's outburst. “And you were running around last night trying to find out who owned the boat that was burning.”

“Duncan talks too much.”

“And,” Willow hissed, glaring at her, “you plan to go back to Sub Rosa and find Thadd's secret room.”

“You don't know that.”

“I damn well do,” Willow snapped. “That's why you haven't told Kee about it and why you never intended to tell me.”

“Willy,” Rachel said softly, taking her sister by the shoulders. “I can't tell him about the room because it will bring us into this mess by implicating Dad.”

“How?”

“That room is only half the story,” Rachel explained. “I'd have to tell Kee about the boat designs, and that we had the stolen art all this time.”

“It's gone beyond protecting our name,” Willow said softly. “Mary was murdered.”

Rachel looked into Willow's beautiful, worried hazel eyes and realized that keeping their father's crime a secret was hurting her sister far more than the secret itself would.

“But there's more stolen art,” she finally told her. “More than what's in Thadd's secret room. And it's here, in this house someplace,” she said, nodding at the wall.

“What?” Willow gasped, stepping back.

“That's what Dad's letter was really about,” she gently told her. “Dad built a secret room in our house, too, Willy. And he listed several more pieces of art that should be in it. Don't you see? This isn't just knowing about Thadd's crimes, it's about being part of them. We still possess some of the stolen art.”

Willow covered her face with her hands, shaking her head. “Oh, God,” she whispered with a sob. “Dad really was a thief.”

“He wasn't a bad man, Willy,” Rachel softly declared, pulling her sister into her arms, rocking her trembling body. “He was just…he was stupid,” she said. “He and Thadd were both stupid.”

Willow looked up. “Where's the room? What's in it?”

“I don't know,” Rachel quietly admitted. “I know where it is, but I can't find a way to get inside.”

“You got the letter over a week ago.”

“But I haven't been alone in this house since. I just need some time, Willy. I need to get in that room and see what we're dealing with before I say anything to anyone.”

Willow grabbed Rachel's arms with desperate strength. “What if that smuggler knows about our stuff? He might come here.”

Rachel shook her head. “He can't know. We haven't had one single problem in three years. And our door is unlocked more than it's locked.”

“I'm not leaving you alone this week,” Willow said, puffing up with sisterly determination. “I'm calling the office and telling them I have a family emergency.”

“No. You can't do anything here,” Rachel told her. “And I already have more guards than the county jail. Besides, you can use your office to check on what the procedure is for returning stolen art anonymously. Kee said there's a database. See what you can find out.”

“I don't want to leave you.”

“I'll be fine. I promise. And I promise not to go anywhere near Sub Rosa,” Rachel added, holding up her hand in a scout's salute. “I'll just get into the room in this house, and I'll wait and let you see what's in it. Then we'll decide together what to do about it.”

Willow thought about that, then reluctantly nodded.

“Do you remember what he looked like?” Rachel asked. “The guy who used to come to Sub Rosa? All I remember are his eyes. They were…” She shivered involuntarily. “They were creepy. Like he was undressing me in his mind.”

“I only saw him once, and that was only briefly,” Willow said. Her eyes widened. “I think I heard Thadd call him Raoul.”

“Raoul?” Rachel repeated, stepping back. “Then he is the smuggler. Daddy told me in his letter about a dealer by the name of Raoul Vegas.”

“Dammit. I could kill you for burning that letter, Rachel! It was the only evidence we had.”

“It was a confession,” Rachel snapped. “An admission of Dad's guilt written in his own hand.”

“You have to warn Kee about the smuggler,” Willow said.

Rachel nodded, not liking it but knowing Willow was right. “Okay. I'll tell him this guy used to visit Sub Rosa when Thadd was alive, but that we haven't seen him in years.”

“Give him the name Raoul Vegas, too.”

“I will.”

There was a knock on the door, and both Willow and Rachel jumped and turned to face it.

“I need to get in,” Kee said through the door.

“There's another bathroom off the bedroom down the hall,” Willow told him.

“Where's Rachel?”

“She's…ah…she's in here,” Willow admitted, smiling sheepishly as she shrugged at Rachel.

“That sounds…interesting,” he said.

Neither of them had anything to say to that, but they did hear Kee sigh and slowly pad down the hall. Rachel covered her mouth with her hand to contain a horrified giggle.

“ ‘That sounds interesting,' ” Willow mimicked, lowering her voice to sound like Kee. She snorted. “Only a man would find two women in a bathroom interesting,” she said, opening the door and walking out.

She ran straight into Duncan.

“What's interesting?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow when Rachel walked out behind her. “Now, that's interesting,” he said, lifting his other brow.

Willow smacked him on the arm as she walked past. “Try growing an upper brain, you overgrown bear.”

Duncan grinned at Rachel. “She likes me, doesn't she?”

Rachel patted his arm where Willow had smacked him. “Almost as much as she likes snakes,” she assured him.

 

By the time Rachel got showered and dressed and felt she could face the world with some sense of decorum, her house was completely empty again. She came down the stairs, walked through a surprisingly tidy living room and sparkling clean kitchen, and ended up on the porch before she finally found everyone.