Chapter 19
My father’s death wasn’t an accident?
Someone had murdered him? Cressida wanted to shake the rest out of Diggins. And right now, her gut was churning.
Cressida struggled to wrap her mind around Diggins’s words, and she stumbled to keep up with Braden, who got a call and suddenly paced the deck. Out here in the middle of the bay, she was surprised he could even get a signal. Diggins could have positioned his boat in the exact right spot.
Braden’s grim expression as he held his cell to his ear scared her.
She couldn’t get enough oxygen. Holding on to the rail, she leaned out and looked over the water, sucking in the cold, briny air. A hand pressed her shoulder and gently pulled her back. She dreaded looking at Braden but lifted her eyes.
He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward Diggins, then said to him, “You were attacked today.”
“Attacked?” Cressida studied Diggins to see his reaction to Braden’s statement. “So the bump on your head wasn’t because you fell?”
“And they came back a second time.” Braden’s face was grim, his eyes hard.
“I can handle myself,” Diggins said. “You don’t worry about me.”
“Who are they? Why did they attack you?” Braden asked.
“I’m not pressing charges,” Diggins said.
“They attacked me, a detective, so charges are being pressed. I want to know who they are.”
Diggins shook his head, his features equally determined. “I don’t know. Even if I did, that wouldn’t do you any good.”
“I’m asking you a direct question—as a detective—and I want answers now.”
While Cressida wanted those answers for Braden, he was about to destroy her connection with Captain Diggins—a man she believed had answers she sought. Answers to a question she hadn’t even asked.
“Braden, maybe—”
“I’ll get the answers, Diggins, but I’d prefer that happened with your cooperation.” The sudden shift in attitude startled her, but she admired him all the more.
“I am cooperating, Detective Sanders.”
Braden pursed his lips, clearly not convinced.
“I’ll be back to check on you,” Braden said. “Maybe by then you’ll have come to your senses and tell me who the assailants are.”
Cressida was surprised that Braden gave up the battle with the stubborn self-named pirate. If he hadn’t gotten that phone call, would he remain here and pressure Diggins? She wanted answers too. But that wasn’t happening. Braden urged her toward the ladder so they could climb down to the skiff.
She hated leaving Diggins, but she had a feeling that he could, in fact, take care of himself.
The man had struck a deal with her almost on par with emotional blackmail and showed his years of practice at withholding information, using it as a bargaining tool like someone who was accustomed to a world where secrets were currency.
Not unlike the world in which her mother thrived.
She shuddered at the comparison but had no time to think on it as she focused on descending the rickety ladder into their skiff that rocked on the choppy water a little too much for comfort.
Once Cressida settled in the skiff, Braden started the engine and navigated away from the anchored liveaboard boats, then sped toward the lights of the marina.
Maybe now wasn’t the time, but she had to know and turned to look at his tense features, eyes focused ahead, lips flat.
“Braden. Tell me what’s happened.” She had to raise her voice over the wind and the boat’s motor.
“Madeline Chase. Evelyn Monroe’s assistant? Mrs. Monroe claims that Madeline tried to kill her.”
Air whooshed out of Cressida. She pressed her hands over her mouth.
“Is she all right?” Cressida finally managed.
“Yes, as far as I know.”
“But what more? There must be more.”
“There is. But it’s an ongoing investigation. I can’t talk about it. I shouldn’t have shared what I did, but meeting her is important to you. I’m trying to prepare you for the fact there might be a kink in your plan.”
His jaw worked as he focused on his thoughts and getting them back to the marina.
Cressida held on as Braden steered them across the rough water on an otherwise beautiful night.
With the blinking lights and decorations for the Pirates’ Bash opening tomorrow, the rustic marina looked homey and welcoming, and Cressida needed that.
Still, she knew better than most that looks could be deceiving, and if her father had been murdered, she believed his death must be due to something he discovered here—why else would Diggins claim to know anything at all about a death that happened all the way across the country?
Her attack also related to that discovery.
Oh yes, she could see through those twinkling, dancing lights at the marina—a growing shadow of danger hung over Hidden Bay. Braden docked and moored the boat, and they returned the keys by dropping them in a box since the chandlery was closed, then they walked in silence to his motorcycle.
As much as she had pretended this wasn’t a date, all while wishing it was, now her time with Braden was coming to a harrowing end. Still, she knew she hadn’t seen the end of him.
This was only the beginning.
“I assume you’re taking me back to the lodge,” she said.
He gently gripped her shoulders, forcing her to look him in his serious face, his steely blue eyes intense. Demanding. “Promise me you’ll stay in your room tonight. Don’t leave the lodge. Please, just . . . watch your back.”
“I’m more worried about both Diggins and Mrs. Monroe than I am myself. Is this . . . typical in Hidden Bay?”
“What? Crime?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Crime is everywhere, Cressida.”
“It feels like it’s all connected.”
“I agree.” With those words, he donned his helmet, and she did too.
She climbed on behind him and held on again. This time, all the rush of adrenaline and excitement drained away, replaced with a dread that weighed on her. Maybe the reality of her near-death experience was finally hitting her—and if that was the case, she’d had a delayed response.
After Dad died, she had promised herself that she would live one day at a time.
That’s what he’d always told her, but she found that fear of the past or dread of the future ate away at that promise.
Still, in this moment, she savored the feel of her arms around Braden.
Even though Braden’s presence was temporary in her world, in this moment, living one day at a time, she was with him, and he was the rock she held on to.
In the waning light, he ascended the road to the top of the cliffside—which was a bit terrifying.
She struggled to recall how carefree she’d felt just a few days ago on the Mariner’s Gambit.
Her life had been upended the first few moments in Hidden Bay.
But she still had breath and was still strong, and she would stay the course—like any seaman fighting the greatest storm of his life.
With a few miles of road behind them, Braden parked next to her rental vehicle in the Cedar Lodge lot. She hopped off, removed the helmet, and handed it to him.
“You keep it for next time.” He didn’t get off his motorcycle.
Next time? “Braden.”
“Yeah.” His tone said he was preoccupied. She understood.
“You be careful,” she said. “You were hurt tonight. Maybe your boss should give you time off. Please tell him what happened on Diggins’s boat.”
He suddenly got off his bike and removed his helmet, then gestured for her to walk toward the lodge, which she did.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m seeing you inside,” he said.
“You don’t have to do that.” But I’m glad you are.
“Your friend is here,” he said.
“What friend?”
He gestured toward a vehicle. “Recognize that car?”
“Oh. The guy who followed me. The guy you didn’t question at the restaurant earlier.”
“Yeah, well, now I’m going to talk to him.”
“What about Mrs. Monroe and Madeline?”
“Your safety is more important.” Braden entered the lodge with her.
The overwhelming urge to forget about finishing Dad’s book rushed through her.
Could she do that? Actually let it go? Or what if she simply left off this last one—the Specter’s Bounty?
She could still finish it. But too many questions needed answers, and she had never been one to back down, especially now that her father’s death had come into question. She just had to be careful. Be smart.
And Evelyn Monroe could have all the answers. She needed to talk to her, and she needed to get what Diggins asked for. And maybe Diggins would then tell her why he believed her father was murdered.
That just couldn’t be. Her mother would have made sure that her father got justice if that was the case. Mom was many things that Cressida disliked, but she was still a woman about justice, and despite the divorce, her mother had still loved her father.
Braden grabbed Cressida’s hand, again bringing her focus back to the moment. He tugged her down a long hall where he pulled her into Remi’s office. The door was open, and Remi and Jo stood with two men. Braden motioned for the men to follow him out of the office and instructed Cressida to stay.
He closed the door, and the three men left Cressida with Remi and Jo.
“What was that about?” Jo asked.
Where did she even start? “Apparently Mrs. Monroe’s assistant—Madeline—tried to kill her. I don’t think he was supposed to tell me that or say anything at all. So maybe I shouldn’t have told you, but you both know her, don’t you?”
“Oh no!” Remi pressed her hands over her mouth. After a few moments, she dropped them. “Please tell me she’s okay.”
“I think so, yes.” Cressida sank down onto the sofa and rubbed her head. And Dad might have been killed . . . but why?
Jo and Remi bombarded her with questions. “Look, I don’t know anything. I was with Braden when he got the call.”
Remi sat at her desk and stared at her hands, and Jo sat on the sofa next to Cressida.
“I take it Braden’s investigating,” Remi said. “What did he need our guys for?”
“Your guys?”
“Oh,” Remi said. “Well, the lumberjack-looking guy is my husband, Hawk, and the other guy that looks like him only taller, slimmer, is his brother, Cole, and Jo’s fiancé.”
“So . . . do you know what he wanted?” Jo asked. “Or why he wanted you to stay here?”
“I have a stalker, for one thing. Someone has been following me, and his vehicle is in your parking lot. Braden was headed to work on the investigation, but I suspect he wants to run interference on this guy.”
“Oh, Cressida,” Remi said. “Let me know whatever I can do to help you remain safe. You could stay at our place. Hawk and I have a house not far from here. It’s on the property. You’d be safe there.”
Wait. What? “I won’t be safe here in the lodge?”
“I’m not implying you won’t be safe here,” Remi said. “I’m just saying that’s an option if it would make you feel more comfortable.”
“Thank you,” Cressida said. “I appreciate the offer.” Why were these people so nice?
She wasn’t accustomed to such kindness. She sat forward and rested her elbows on her thighs.
“Listen, I know this is kind of morbid for me to ask in the middle of everything that’s happened.
But I really need to talk to Evelyn Monroe.
Talking to her is going to give me some big answers.
Tonight Braden took me out to talk to the so-called pirate king, Captain Diggins.
He won’t answer my questions unless I get something from her. ”
Remi narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean ‘get’?”
“I don’t mean take—of course not. No, no. I plan to talk to her. But now that Madeline has tried to cause her harm, me requesting an interview sounds so insensitive. I’m sorry.”
“Cressida, what exactly did Diggins ask you to get? What does he want from Evelyn?”
“I don’t know what it means. He simply said that he wanted the truth from her.”