Chapter 16
The yacht has been cordoned off with police tape, and Alex and I are still waiting for Garcia a few slips down.
“We should have just called this in anonymously,” Alex grumbles.
Yeah, that would have been nice. “There are too many cameras around here. Someone would have seen us.”
She just grunts, but she knows I’m right.
A crowd has drawn down by the Wet Dream and I’m glad to stay out of the way.
A little bell rings in the distance, one of the buoys moving or something else, I’m not sure. But it’s still sunny out, with cars driving by and people strolling along with their dogs in addition to the small crowd of onlookers.
“I feel like we should say something to Aria.” There’s a good chance she’ll notice the crowd by the docks anyway.
Alex shakes her head. “Garcia will.”
I know that, but I still feel guilty. “Speaking of…” I stand up from the bench we’ve both been sitting on as Garcia breaks away from the crowd and makes his way to us.
“Are we free to go?” I ask as he reaches us.
He’d asked us to wait around while the Seattle PD secured the scene. This is their jurisdiction, but since Powell was a person of interest in one of Garcia’s cases, I imagine they’ll be working together. I’d called him instead of 911 anyway, something I’m sure the locals are annoyed about.
“Explain to me again how you two ended up on Powell’s boat.”
“Not his boat.” Something he already knows. “And like we said, his girlfriend told us he used to go cruising with friends and mentioned the yacht. We were literally right here. It would have been stupid to ignore it.”
“Don’t be mad we’re doing your job for you.” Alex’s tone is dry, but she’s grinning when I glance at her.
“She’s kidding,” I say quickly, because I can’t get a read on Garcia’s expression. It’s very neutral and I don’t know him well enough to know how he’ll react. We need the cops friendly with us for this.
Thankfully he just sighs. “His girlfriend never said anything to me about his friends or a yacht. She just insisted he wasn’t a murderer.”
“He might not be.” Or he could be.
“It’s too soon to tell, but yeah.”
“You never thought he did it anyway,” I add.
Garcia shrugs, which could mean anything. “Look, they’re not happy you two were on the boat, but since the camera from a nearby boat backs up what you’ve said, you’re fine to go.”
“That’s it?”
“I don’t have anything else right now…though you were on that boat longer than a couple minutes. Are you holding anything back?”
“No. We might have looked around without contaminating anything,” I add quickly. “But we didn’t take anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You can tell the Seattle PD that we must have been in shock.” Alex’s tone is still her trademark dry. “It’s why it took longer than a couple minutes.”
He just blinks at Alex, then focuses on me again. “Once they’ve got ballistics and forensics finished with the scene, I might be able to tell you more.”
Might is code for he isn’t telling me anything. Or I assume it is. His boss may have told him to cooperate with me, but that doesn’t mean he’ll tell me everything. “Okay. Just remember, I called you first. Not 911.”
He nods, his expression thawing. “I will remember that.”
As Alex and I head out, my phone buzzes in my pocket. When I see the message on-screen, ice slides through my veins.
It’s from Ethan. Fiona is missing.
I call him back immediately, not bothering with a text. “What do you mean she’s missing?” I can feel Alex’s eyes on me, but I hurry down the sidewalk with her as we head back to the restaurant parking lot.
“We got in another argument… She apologized about last night but then started in again and I snapped. We started yelling at each other and…she stormed out and then disabled her phone’s locating app, so I have no idea where she is.
I’m glad the girls weren’t here to see it but…
I’m worried she’ll do something stupid.”
Okay so she isn’t missing missing. But she left in a fit of anger and she’s still a teenager grieving her mother’s murder. That’s a bad combination for decision-making. For anyone, but definitely for a young woman. “I’ll try calling her,” I say before hanging up.
Fiona doesn’t answer, and the second time I call it goes straight to voicemail.
“Where would she go?” Alex has started her car, but we’re idling.
I think about her question, feeling lost and unsure…
Oh, hell. “There’s a little tea and cake shop a few minutes from their neighborhood.
Fiona and Cara used to go there all the time, especially when she was younger.
” It was a favorite of both of theirs. Even at the height of the super angsty teenage years of thirteen and fourteen, the two of them had still enjoyed tea and cakes together.
I give Alex the address, glad she’s driving. I need to think and not worry about asshole drivers getting in my way.
“So…my sister is murdered with a weapon that belongs to Cory Powell, who she fired. A weapon that was conveniently found, but without his prints. Then Powell is murdered,” I say into the quiet. “The two have to be connected.” I mean, they don’t have to be, but I’m playing the odds.
“It’s too big of a connection to ignore.” Alex lays on the horn when someone doesn’t move fast enough, because of course she does. I think it’s because we’re both pilots. Or maybe it’s because she’s trying to quit smoking (she hasn’t vaped all day since I’ve been with her).
“Foxe has pulled up Powell’s financials but hasn’t found anything that links him to anyone at Beacon Industries.”
“She hasn’t found anything yet, and the investigation is still early.” Alex gives me a sharp look.
I know that. I truly do. It’s only been days since we started on this—Cara’s memorial was only yesterday, even if it feels like an eon has passed—and every second counts.
“And someone tried to run you off the road today.”
“I haven’t forgotten. Unfortunately the license plates aren’t real.
” They’re real in the sense that they exist, but the numbers are fake according to Foxe.
Which means that someone either a) welded different plates together or b) created them from scratch.
Normally I would assume the former because it’s a common practice among a certain criminal element. Common and smart.
But the front and back plates on the SUV matched so I’m leaning toward someone creating them. And that takes money and resources.
“There aren’t that many people who can do that sort of thing with plates,” Alex murmurs as she makes a right turn.
“I want to get back into Ava’s computer.” Not much of a transition, but it’s how my brain works. “She worked with Cara and Powell.”
“You suspect her?”
“Of killing Cara? No. But we both know that people can do anything when pushed into a corner. And she was pretty high after the memorial, seemed almost… Unstable feels like a shitty word.” She was grieving, which I understand.
Something about her was off though, and I can’t figure out if it matters.
It’s clear her marriage is in trouble so it could be that.
Or a bunch of other things I have no idea about.
“Listen to your instinct.”
“Unfortunately it’s not working right now.” That isn’t exactly true, but I don’t know which direction to go. There are simply too many suspects. “She doesn’t have an alibi either. She was home alone when it happened.”
“And Cara knew her murderer.” That much was clear over the phone. Alex had heard the recording since and agreed. “You need to talk to Marcus Chesky. If he’s having an affair with Ava, maybe get a feel for him, see what’s going on there.”
I know I do. “I’m still trying to figure out how to approach him.”
“Try knocking on his front door. He was friends with Cara too. It wouldn’t be strange for you to stop by. Well, not too strange.”
“Maybe I’ll do just that. Do you mind waiting?
” I ask as she pulls into the small parking lot of the tea and cake shop.
I see Fiona’s car, but still want to get eyes on her before I lose my ride completely.
I’ll need to get my car from the airport here eventually and move my plane from the Bellevue one, but that’s not a huge concern now.
“Of course.”
Inside the shop, the hostess greets me with a smile. “Hi, how may I help you?”
“I’m meeting my niece here. Taller than me,” I say, holding up my hand. “Sixteen, dark hair, blue eyes, pretty.”
“Oh, Fiona? Yes, she’s here. Oh…you were Cara’s sister?”
I nod, my throat tightening at the swell of emotion.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, and to my surprise, she dashes away a few tears. “We all loved her here.”
I just nod again because I don’t trust my voice. Thankfully she seems to understand and leads me to a table in the corner right next to a window that overlooks a pretty garden. I’m not sure how, but even in the winter, the garden is still beautiful.
“Aunt Sloane.” Fiona looks surprised to see me, but doesn’t seem to mind when I sit down.
“How are you doing?” I ask, even though it’s clearly a stupid question. I also quickly text Ethan to tell him that she’s safe.
“Is that my dad?” she asks, derision in her voice.
“Yes, but I didn’t tell him where you are. Just that you’re safe.” I also text Alex, telling her I’ll be here a while and that she can take off. I really hope Fiona will give me a ride.
Fiona’s jaw is tight, but she doesn’t say anything. She just gives a sad smile when the server comes up with a plate of little cakes.
“I’ll just have what she’s having,” I say.
The woman nods and thankfully leaves immediately.
“You want to talk?” I keep my voice gentle, hoping to get to the bottom of things.
Fiona glares at me, taking me aback. “Sure. How about you tell me why you keep ditching us? My mom, your sister and best friend, has been murdered and you keep disappearing! I know you’re not even working, so what’s so important that you keep leaving?
I need you right now.” Her voice breaks on the last word and it cracks something open inside me.