Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
RIOS
I was already halfway back to the bakery, cursing my sister’s predilection for falling in love with heavy furniture, when my phone lit up with a text.
I punched the screen so the truck would read it.
Madden:
Astrid was in an accident on Seacrest. I’m heading over to check on her.
I’d told her to stay put, but depending on how bad things were, of course she’d go check on her friend.
I wasn’t far, so I hooked a left and cut over three blocks to Sand Dollar Street, which ran parallel to Seacrest. At the first possible chance, I turned onto Seacrest proper and scanned for flashing lights and emergency vehicles.
But there was nothing, just a half dozen cars lazily driving down the mostly empty street.
Even with a basic fender bender, there wouldn’t have been time to get the vehicles clear and a police report made. So what the fuck was going on?
As I dialed Astrid, a bad feeling spun up in my gut.
“Hey, Rios.”
“Where are you?”
A pause. “At the research station. Why?”
“You weren’t just in an accident?”
“No? What’s going on?”
“Nothing good. Gotta go.”
I hung up on her and circled another block, driving too fast back toward the bakery, scanning streets and alleyways on both sides. Madden would’ve come this way on foot.
A flash of something caught my attention down an alley, and I threw the truck into park, leaving it running as I jogged down the alley.
A cell phone with a spider-webbed screen lay on the cracked pavement.
It didn’t power on when I picked it up. I couldn’t be absolutely sure it was hers.
A little further on, a paper coffee cup lay on its side in a puddle of brown.
I scooped that up and rotated it until I saw Madden’s name scrawled on the side.
My blood ran cold.
Broken phone and dropped coffee equalled only one thing in my mind: She’d been taken.
Bolting back to the truck, I ran scenarios.
It had been two days since she’d sent the audit request. Two days since she’d poked the bear. What were the chances that the protections she’d put into place to ensure her anonymity had been sufficient? Not big enough.
My gut told me Carson had her. Who else had reason to come after her?
I didn’t have time to dwell on what the hell he planned to do with her.
I needed to focus on where would he take her.
He wasn’t stupid. He couldn’t keep her anywhere on the island—not for long.
Which meant he’d want to get off island.
He wouldn’t be fool enough to take the ferry.
That left a private boat. His own or one he had access to.
The marina.
I didn’t know for sure, and if I was wrong, I’d lose precious time. But if I was right…
The moment I hit the driver’s seat, I tore down the street and hit the group text with Ford, Sawyer, and Daniel.
Me:
Someone took Madden. I figure Carson. Need backup at the marina ASAP.
I’m coming, Counselor. Hang on.
The two miles seemed to stretch forever as I sped through stop signs and whipped around other vehicles.
More than one pedestrian leapt back from the road.
At least one flipped me off. I half expected one of the other island cops to end up on my tail, lights flashing.
Fine. Let them help take down their boss.
But none of them showed by the time I screeched to a stop in the parking lot.
Daniel was already there, and Ford was coming in hot behind me.
I bolted for the docks, already scanning for that rangy, weather-beaten figure.
He wouldn’t be in the section with the sailboats.
Not on a police chief’s salary. And not the commercial fishing further down.
Too many prospective witnesses. If he had a boat here, it would be somewhere in the warren of smaller slips.
I heard another truck door slam, and Sawyer shouted, “Go on. I’m right behind you!”
We garnered an assortment of confused looks from a handful of tourists as we fanned out to search. I ignored them, looking only for evidence that I was right.
It was the flash of bright blue tarp that caught my eye. Well out on the end of the oldest section of the marina, a figure struggled under the weight of some wrapped bundle draped over his shoulder. A bundle the approximate size of a woman.
I poured on the speed, dodging around a fisherman and his cooler, leaping over a pile of fishing tackle.
He didn’t hear me coming until I rounded the final corner and hit the long stretch of warped boards reaching out into the water.
As he turned, the bundle shifted, and I caught a glimpse of a hand.
Unconscious? Worse? I didn’t dare think about it as I bellowed, “Stop!”
Carson hesitated, glancing back toward a boat nearly at the end.
“Don’t you fucking dare, Carson!”
He whipped around fully as he realized the others were behind me. Lifting a gun, he aimed in our direction. “Don’t come any closer!”
“Chief, put the gun down,” Daniel called. “Let’s not get hasty here.”
“Hasty? I’ve devoted my fucking life to this island. To keeping it safe.”
“But not for everybody equally,” I growled.
Carson scowled. “Needs of the many, son. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices.”
“That’s not how the law works.” Not how it was supposed to work, anyway.
He snorted. “This is so much bigger than the law. And when it all crashes down, know it’ll be her fault.”
What the hell did that mean?
“Put her down, Carson.”
He glared at me with undisguised hatred. “You want her? Fine. Go get her.”
Before I could make a sound, he heaved the tarp-wrapped bundle into the water.
Eyes on where it had gone under, I began to run, ignoring Carson as he bolted further down the pier, presumably for one of the boats. I had to trust that my friends would go after him.
I leapt for where she’d disappeared. Water closed over my head, the waves shoving my body around before I managed to reorient and swim toward the bottom.
This part of the marina wasn’t as deep as the commercial section that had to make room for bigger boats, and I thanked God for it as I caught sight of blue.
Kicking hard, I reached out, fingers closing over the plastic and hauling.
It floated toward me with no resistance. She wasn’t secured inside it.
I fought with the tarp, struggling to get past it to where she would’ve fallen to the bottom. There was no movement below, no evidence she was conscious. Was she still breathing when she went in?
Come on, baby. Hold on for me.
My war with the tarp had kicked up so much silt I was reaching blind along the bottom, desperation rising with every inch as my lungs screamed for oxygen.
Then my hand closed over a foot. That foot was attached to a leg, and from there I managed to wrap my arms around the rest of her.
Exhaling the last of my air, I sank fully to the bottom in a crouch, then shoved hard toward the surface.
I broke through with a gasp and a hacking cough. Sawyer was there, already reaching down to help drag her limp body onto the dock. Then he reached a hand down for me, hauling me out. I rolled to my back, gasping for only a couple of seconds before reaching for Madden.
She lay still and so very pale, eyes closed. Her hair was plastered across her face. I gently shoved it back and bent over her. “Madden. Baby, wake up. Come on, carino, you’ve gotta wake up.”
I pressed shaking fingers against her throat and almost sobbed with relief when I felt the flutter of a pulse. She was alive.
Only then did I look back up the dock.
Carson stood on the deck of a boat, casting off with one hand while holding Daniel at gunpoint with the other. Daniel’s own weapon remained steady, his training evident in the way he didn’t so much as flinch. Neither did Ford’s from where he stood flanking the other side, his body coiled and ready.
“Carson,” Ford warned, his voice carrying across the water with lethal calm.
“Shoot his fucking engine!” I shouted, my voice raw from swallowing half the harbor. “Stop him!”
“I’m not going—“ Carson’s body suddenly jerked, his eyes going wide with shock. Red bloomed across his chest, and he collapsed to the deck just as a sound like thunder rolled across the water from the direction of the ocean.
He’d been shot, and not by one of us.
Sniper.
My mind raced through the implications even as my body remained frozen, half-crouched over Madden.
“Boat.” Sawyer pointed out on the water where a lone watercraft bobbed in the distance, probably near to 750 meters out. “There.”
Daniel was already on the radio to alert the Coast Guard, his Louisiana drawl clipped and professional as he rattled off coordinates and a situation report.
But I suspected whoever the fuck had taken that shot would be long gone by the time they managed to mobilize.
Ford didn’t hesitate—he took a running leap and managed to land on Carson’s boat with the same athletic grace that had landed him a track scholarship back in college.
I turned back to Madden, checking her pulse and breathing again. Her eyelids began to flutter, and I squeezed her hand in mine. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Come on back to me now.”
Out on the water, Carson’s boat had already floated halfway to the sound by the time Ford straightened and shook his head.
Carson was dead.
I couldn’t think about that just now because Madden’s eyes finally opened, blinking blearily into mine.
“Rios?”
“Hey, carino.” I didn’t have to force the smile of relief to my face.
She frowned. “You’re all wet.”
“I am. So are you.”
From somewhere up the road, sirens began to wail.
“Gave us a scare, there,” Sawyer told her.
Those long-lashed eyes only blinked as she tried to make sense of that. I gently pulled her into my chest. “It’s okay. We just need to get you checked out at the clinic.”
“Again?” she croaked. “Maybe that’s where we ought to be paying rent.”
On a rough laugh, I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll talk about that.”
Her eyes must’ve cleared enough to see beyond me because she tried to straighten. “Carson! He’s the one who set the fire on the boat. He—”
“Is dead,” I finished. “It’s over.”
At least for now.
On a long exhale, she slumped against me. “Good. Maybe we can take that vacation you talked about.”
Holding her tight, I kissed her brow again. “I can make that happen.”