Chapter 7 #2
“Acer has the sniper pegged as Wallace White based on his service record and the description he got at a nearby hotel.”
“We need to confirm that he’s connected to the shooting of Harry the Hacker,” Acer said. “You can get that file through official channels.”
“Harry the Hacker?”
“Real name is Harold Small.”
Cap nodded. “Consider it done. I’ll expedite it.”
“What do you want me to work on while you’re out, boss?” Acer asked Dane. Shana bristled.
“Dane can stay—”
“Where’s he going?” Cap asked.
“He has this notion that we both need to talk to Whitaker’s wife. He was going to have you stay here with Acer.” Shana waited to see whose side Cap would take in this one. It wouldn’t be easy for the poor man. He looked around the table at all of them.
Then he resumed eating without comment.
“We need to find the sniper before the sniper finds us,” Dane said. “Shana and I are going to take a look around the area before we leave the island.”
Cap said, “I’ll get the full file on the sniper shooting of the hacker, Harold Small, since he’s definitely connected.”
“Acer—you call Fred Bryant. And turn the perimeter electricity back on.”
Ronnie Ryan jumped in his chair. Cap looked at him.
“A stringer?” Cap said.
“That’s what I say,” Shana said.
“I’m cool with it,” Ronnie said. “I know what I’m in for—especially since this morning when—”
“No need to go into that,” Dane cut him off.
Cap laughed. “Don’t tell me you had the electric fence turned on and the kid—”
“That’s it—how did you know?” the kid said.
“Can we not keep any secrets here? Discretion. Important part of the job.” Dane gave the kid a warning look.
“Pick on someone your own size,” Shana said to Dane and stood, jutted her chin and put her hands on the hips of her skin-tight jeans, pushing her chest out in the unusually low-cut tank top. She’d dressed for him. She may as well taunt him. Least she could do.
He raised his brows at her.
Acer put down his fork and went still.
Cap looked between her and Dane, and then he continued eating. He was used to the battle between her and Dane. He sometimes referred to it as the battle between good and evil, generously assigning her to the side of good.
She determined to deserve the label today.
She pushed Dane off the computer and sent a copy of the photo of the sniper suspect, Wallace White, to their printer, retrieved it and gave it to the kid.
“Get on your way and don’t ask anyone you don’t know and trust. Do not be obvious.” She handed him a cell and said, “Call in every hour on the hour. Got that?”
“Yes ma’am. But—”
“Those are the terms,” Dane said in a hard voice. She didn’t undercut his harshness this time. She didn’t want to have to worry about the kid.
“Set your phone alarm to remind you. Tell your boss you’re calling your mother to remind her about her medicine,” she said.
“Good one.” He gave her an admiring look. She wished she deserved it.
She was determined to deserve it. No more Shana the girl mooning over Dane the boy. That was history. Had to be.
Dane and Cap shoved from the table and the kid scrambled to his feet. Acer stayed put behind his computer.
* * *
Dane gripped the steering wheel of his Jeep with unnecessary ferocity as he drove through the streets of Vineyard Haven. In between scanning the neighborhoods for odd vehicles, rentals and any unusual pedestrians, he took stock of Shana. She did her own scanning and a play-by-play to accompany it.
“Two runners. I recognize the guy. Pretty regular, but slow. He must have picked up the chick somewhere. New York plate on the second car in the drive on the left…”
“Stop it. You’re driving me crazy. The New York car is okay. People vacation here from New York off and on. Mostly after the end of the season like now. They own the house. I know them.”
“Is there anyone you don’t know?”
“Plenty. Plenty of transients and still some vacationers.”
“What category are you in?”
“I’m a regular islander now. I’m a local.”
She huffed.
He said, “Same as you.”
She snapped her head around to eye him.
“If I’m a local then the standard for local is pretty iffy.
” She looked back out the window. He slowed and turned into the supermarket parking lot.
He figured he’d talk with Jim the deli man.
Jim didn’t know it, but he was Dane’s local informer.
Kept him updated on all the local intel. Although some might call it gossip.
“Wait here and watch for—anything suspicious.” He quirked one brow.
She opened her door and hopped out. He knew she would.
“I’m coming inside. I hate sitting in the car waiting for you. You take forever.”
“What if something suspicious happens?”
She ignored him and walked through the automatic door into the grocer’s.
Dane headed straight to the deli and she followed a pace or two behind as if she weren’t with him. Standard. But it irked him all the same. He stopped himself from slowing down and reeling her in, bringing her to his side.
It was midweek and early enough in the day, so there was no line at the deli counter. And no Jim. Dane pressed a finger on the old-fashioned bell on the glass counter.
Jim came out grumbling. “I’ll be right with you.” When he saw it was Dane his face exploded into a grin and his grumbling stopped.
“Well if it isn’t my good customer and friend the damn secretive bastard Dane Blaise. Hell of a thing to read in the paper about the surfing and you rounding up a gang of damn kidnapping druggies from South America.” He held his big tough hand over the counter to shake Dane’s and Dane obliged.
“Jim the deli man, how the hell are you?”
“A hell of a lot safer now that I know you’re on the job.” He gave Dane a Popeye grin. The man might as well have a big fat anchor tattoo on his substantial forearm. He could play the cartoon sailorman’s double. “You got anymore secrets I shouldn’t know about?”
“I wouldn’t want to put you in any danger.” Dane meant it. The man nodded. Dane said, “Don’t let all the hype fool you. I’m not on any secret missions. I came in for my usual baloney.”
Jim laughed and Dane noticed Shana stifle a smile as she perused the pita bread. Lucky thing he was blessed with uncanny peripheral vision. He didn’t think Shana realized how much he could see. And he wasn’t about to let her in on it.
“A pound of baloney coming up.”
“Make it half. I feel lucky there’s no crowd at the counter.”
“Nah. Week day.”
“Seems to me more tourists around than usual for midweek this time of year. You notice that?”
“Nah. Not too bad. Been waiting for the end of tourist season.”
Dane grunted. “I know what you mean. I noticed this one crazy-looking guy. Didn’t look healthy. Not like your typical tourist.”
“Looked suspicious?” Jim asked.
Dane shrugged his shoulders. “Everyone looks suspicious to me. But this guy stood out. He was extra tall and skinny though-near seven feet I’d say, if he stood straight. He was missing a couple teeth…” Dane didn’t have to ask Jim if he’d seen the guy. He jumped in.
“Hey, I think I’ve seen him.”
“Really? Recently?”
“Yesterday—at the ferry landing when I was over at the Black Dog getting coffee.”
“Coming or going?”
Jim shrugged. “Could have been either. He was carrying a bag I noticed because it was an odd kind for luggage.”
Dane kept his face neutral, but there was a zip of adrenaline. The sniper rifle case would surely count as an odd bag for luggage.
Dane took his baloney.
“Should I watch out for the guy?”
Dane paused a beat about what to tell Jim, but before he could tell him anything, Shana stepped up to the counter and said, “Enough baloney, Dane.”
Jim looked at her and then recognition dawned and his eyes widened.
“You’re the surfer girl—the one—”
“Shana George. I work with Dane. We’d appreciate it very much if you’d call if you see this man again anywhere on the island.” She handed him her card. “And stay clear of him.”
Jim nodded, assessing her, and from the looks of it decided she was serious. He flicked a glance at Dane. Dane gave him a nod, then saluted and they left Jim stewing. Dane was certain Jim was a good solid man and he wouldn’t talk about this to anyone.
But he was a little worried that Jim could get himself in trouble. He’d have to give the man a call later and warn him to be cautious and not stare or give himself away. And not to mention a word to anyone about their interest in the tall, hunchbacked, skinny guy.
When they got outside and got into the Jeep, Shana turned to him and looked as serious as a bible.
“You should stay on the island and keep an eye out for this guy and let me go and interview Fiona Whitaker on my own. I’ll be back by nightfall.” She waited for his response.
He knew she was right. He had to find the sniper.
Wally White was somewhere on the island and it wouldn’t be long before he found Dane’s beach shack.
Hell, if Jim knew about Dane and his reputation, then others did and they would talk to each other and to his neighbors and they’d all know where he lived.
Shit. This was why he’d never stayed on the island before.
Why he’d always kept an anonymous profile and never worked in his own neighborhood. Until last summer.
“Well?”
“Maybe neither of us goes to talk to Fiona Whitaker. Not now. Not until after we find the sniper.”
“That’s one way to handle it. Or maybe David could talk to Fiona Whitaker or send someone.”
Dane shook his head. “They want to keep this away from the governor. They don’t want too much involvement close to home. They need to downplay the unit and his association as much as possible. He gets too much flak politically. And more important, he could turn himself into a target.”
She huffed. “I’m going. By myself. I don’t work for you.”
The deep slash of her words surprised him. He hoped the mental flinch didn’t show in his face.