Chapter 4
Braden had meant to be completely hands-off. Instead, he was all-hands-on-deck, holding Cressida tightly. She’d jumped from the chair as if to run, and he caught her. He hadn’t even hesitated when she’d started shaking through the memory. Her shudders left him unsettled.
He regretted having to ask her to relive those moments. But getting answers would always be part of his job—at least this county detective job. His position with DSS had included threat-assessment analysis, protective detail, and . . . keeping secrets.
While he hadn’t known what to expect when he’d come to Washington, with the arrival of Octavia’s daughter, he now understood—Octavia wanted protection for Cressida. But from what? From whom? He didn’t know. And why here? Why now? Why hadn’t Cressida needed protection before she got to Hidden Bay?
Octavia had some explaining to do.
Cressida calmed and slid out of his arms. “I apologize for letting my emotions get the best of me. I don’t know what to say.”
As if frozen in place, he kept his arms out. This wasn’t awkward at all. “No need to say anything or apologize.”
He turned off the recorder. There was more to her story. He could see it in her eyes, but he also knew that she wouldn’t share until she was ready. He wouldn’t press her, at least not now.
“You’re not asking more questions?” Tears hung in her eyelashes as she blinked up at him.
“You’ve had a rough day. I’ll take you to the lodge now, if you’re ready to go.” He raked a hand through his hair and looked out the window and remembered his ride. This wasn’t going to work.
“You’re on a motorcycle, aren’t you?” she asked.
“I’ll make other arrangements.” He called Trent and confirmed the ride for her.
Was that disappointment flitting across her gaze? Not likely, given what happened today, but if she did ever want a ride on his bike, he was more than willing to oblige.
“Deputy Riker is waiting at his vehicle in the parking lot. I’ll carry your duffel and computer bag.” He opened the door of the chandlery for her and walked her out.
At his county cruiser, Trent gave a soft smile and opened the door for her, and Braden stowed her things in the back. He followed Trent’s vehicle on his Ducati, his thoughts racing as he focused on the road and the cruiser ahead of him.
On the surface, “Salty” Malloy’s warning that it wasn’t safe could’ve been a general comment about Hidden Bay or the marina itself. Given the attempted murder and the fact that her mother had sent Braden here for a reason, it seemed clear that someone had deliberately targeted Cressida.
Though he wanted to be up-front with her, the moment she found out he had any connection to her mother would be the last moment he would have to protect her and keep her close. She and her mother were estranged.
At the lodge, Trent assisted Cressida into the main lobby and Braden walked behind them. He thanked Trent while he waited for Cressida to check in.
Trent leaned in close to Braden and spoke so no one else could hear him. “Do we need to warn the public a potential killer is on the loose?”
“I think that Cressida—”
“Cressida?”
“Ms. Valentine was targeted. The local news will report the attack, and people can come to their own reasonable conclusions—lock the door. Watch out for strangers. I plan to get Jo with her, and then we can put his picture on the usual outlets as we search for him. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Braden moved toward Cressida, effectively dismissing the deputy. Octavia wanted Braden on this, and he would protect her. He had to keep her close and couldn’t risk Trent worming his way in and learning something he shouldn’t.
What if Cressida held a secret Octavia wanted to learn more about or keep under wraps? He couldn’t fully know what this was about and would call Octavia soon.
Once Cressida had completed her check-in, he snatched her duffel and computer bag before she could.
“I got lucky,” she said. “I wasn’t due to check in until tomorrow night, but my cabin is available now.”
“Good. I’ll walk you there.” He threw the duffel over his shoulder.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said. “Remember, it’s your day off, and even if it wasn’t, you’re a cop. Not my personal valet.”
“I’m a nice guy even on my day off.” Since he took on this investigation, he’d get paid and was working now, but he saw no reason to point that out. Let her see him as the nice guy. He’d chosen to follow Trent to the beach, after all.
What if he hadn’t? Then he couldn’t have as easily worked his way into Cressida’s situation, to be both investigator and protector she needed. Trent would have been that guy. Braden knew enough about him to believe that.
Braden wanted to throw that question in Octavia’s face. She should have been up-front with him about the reason he was here instead of twisting his arm behind his back to do her will like it was some kind of game to her.
Cressida hiked to her cabin, and he followed, carrying the duffel and case. It was actually pretty heavy, and he saw now why she hadn’t wanted to carry it on her walk on the beach. And he appreciated a woman who could allow a man to be a gentleman.
At the cabin, she unlocked the door, entered, and he followed, gently dropping the duffel and case next to the table. She glanced around the cozy space.
“How long will you be staying?” he asked.
She rubbed her forehead, looking frazzled and yet strong and in control at the same time. How did she do that? Must have her mother’s genes. “I stay as long as it takes to learn what I need to learn. But I’ve only booked this cabin for three weeks.”
That was expensive. “Why here?”
She stepped forward and studied him. Getting suspicious?
“Look,” he said. “I’m trying to find out who attacked you and why. I like to ask questions.”
“And I like a detective who’s serious about his job.” She stepped closer.
And his heart pounded harder.
Not good.
“Maybe you can help me more than you think. I’m here looking into the Specter’s Bounty.
I mentioned my father was a maritime historian and was writing a book.
The bag that was stolen today had his journal in it, to which I added my personal thoughts on everything, including and especially my notes on my experiences for the book.
The entire reason for my travels. I need that back.
It’s not something I’ve made copies of. Do you understand?
” Her shaken demeanor quickly gave way to the confidence of someone used to being in control.
He arched a brow. “I understand.”
“As for why I’m here at Cedar Trails Lodge in Hidden Bay, specifically, it seems as good a place as any to meet with people and talk.
Find out what they know. What they’ve heard.
In my father’s notes, he had a name with a question mark beside it.
Evelyn Monroe. I contacted her weeks ago to ask for an interview while I’m here, but so far, she has avoided my calls. Or rather, her gatekeeper has.”
Interesting. “Why Mrs. Monroe?”
“Do you know her?”
He lifted his palms. “Not personally, no.”
“What can you tell me about her?”
“Not much, I’m afraid. Why do you think your father wrote down her name?”
“I don’t know. But the reason he traveled to Hidden Bay was to learn about the truth behind the Specter’s Bounty. So I assume Mrs. Monroe might have information.”
He could help her on that front. And just like that he might have found a solid way in to remain connected to her instead of protecting her from afar, which was the worst way to go about it.
Thanks for nothing, Octavia. “You’ll want to check out the museum in Forestview.
It’s what goes for a small town around here.
It’s just across the highway and in the rainforest.”
“What kind of museum?”
“The kind that might have the information you want.”
“Seems it would be located at the Hidden Bay Marina instead of the forest. Usually anything that includes maritime history is close to the water.”
“Forestview is close enough and a few miles from the bay. The original museum was in the smattering of buildings you saw at the marina. It burned down. Now it’s in town, away from the water.”
“Oh.” Her deep frown reflected her pain. “Artifacts, history, and archives might have been lost. That’s awful.”
“If you go to the museum, I’d like to join you.” Now he might be crossing the invisible line between professional and personal.
At the look she gave him, he added, “I’m concerned about you, that’s all.”
She took him in as if trying to read if he was telling her the truth or a lie.
He’d stayed too long. Braden moved to the door, standing in the frame so she couldn’t shut the door in his face. “Be aware that your attempted killer could try again because you’re now a witness—you mentioned as much. I suggest that you try to move into the main lodge for more security.”
She pressed forward as if he wasn’t blocking her way.
He had two choices. Stand his ground, which would put him entirely too close, or step outside.
Usually, he stood his ground, but he gave way, stepping outside.
What was she up to? In the little time he’d spent with her, he couldn’t deny she had a lot of her mother in her.
Terrifying.
“Thanks for the advice,” she said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“One more thing, how are you going to get around without a rental car?”
That proverbial deer-in-the-headlights look before her face relaxed.
“I rented a car out of Forestview, and the rental company is bringing it to me in a couple of days. I wasn’t supposed to be here until tomorrow night, so Wednesday morning they will deliver it.
” She bit her lip, then pressed them together.
“I’ll call the rental company and see if I can get it earlier. ”
“Not with your cell, you won’t. No good service. You’re lucky if you get half a bar. But the lodge has a landline you could use.”
“Thanks for the tip and for carrying my stuff.” Arms crossed, she leaned against the doorjamb.
Her hair had finally dried, revealing the same bright red as in her photograph in Octavia’s office. With her striking eyes, the cabin at her back, and those wild curls, she looked like he imagined a forest sprite would appear.
“If they can’t accommodate the change”—and he doubted they would—“I’m happy to give you a tour for the next two days. Take you around for your research.”
Instead of taking him up on the offer, she narrowed her gaze again. He might have pushed her too far too fast.
“I’ll let you know, Detective. Thanks for the offer.”
“I’ll contact you soon about the forensic artist. She’s local,” he said, “so this should happen soon, before you forget the details.”
“Oh, I won’t forget.”
He dipped his chin and backed off. “Thank you, Ms. Valentine.”
“Cressida.”
He stared.
“You can call me Cressida. Nobody calls me Ms. Valentine, like we live in the nineteenth century.”
“Just doing my job. It’s a professional courtesy. But Cressida it is.”
She blinked, then widened her eyes, almost accusing. Oh. He hadn’t offered her the same use of his first name. He cleared his throat. “Please, feel free to call me Braden.” He didn’t require that she address him as “detective” to do his job.
But she gave him a funny look.
He allowed a half grin. “You got a problem with my name?”
“Not at all. You don’t look like a Braden. I thought that the first time I heard your name.”
He stifled an incredulous laugh. “I’m not entirely sure I want to ask what name you’d give me.”
She was the one to laugh, but it was a good laugh, and all the awkward tension dissipated. She chewed her lip while she squinted. “I don’t know. Maybe an Aiden or a Bradley. No, I take that back. You are a Braden, after all.”
“Whatever you say, Cressida.” Honestly, he’d never met anyone with her name.
“You should get some rest. If you need anything at all, here’s my number.
” He handed her a card he tugged from his jeans pocket.
“If, that is, you can get a signal. I’m going to see what I can learn on your case and hopefully get your things returned to you. ”
Her face brightened with that news. “I hope to hear from you soon.”
He turned and walked toward the lodge. At least this cabin was close and not one of those more isolated, deeper in the woods. His thoughts turned to Octavia Dane. He needed more information, especially now that her daughter had been attacked.
Braden dreaded making that call. It was better to keep that generous but conniving woman as far away as possible.