Chapter 9
At the Hideaway, Trent was up at first light.
He went for a run through the neighborhood, deliberately passing the construction zone twice, and finished with some yoga down near the beach.
He wasn’t deliberately looking for another body in the surf—Royer’s body—but a man could hope.
Whatever neutralized the threat worked for Trent.
The grand-theft, extortion, and drug deals were bad enough.
Add in murder? In Trent’s opinion that removed any second-chance options.
His body charged up, he headed inside for a shower and breakfast. Over coffee, eggs, and a cookie, he started digging into the many names Natalie had mentioned over dinner.
Some popped up easily with clear connections to various businesses around the island.
Others were more elusive. A couple folks had criminal incidents on record.
So far, nothing too problematic and nothing that screamed they would escalate to stealing watercraft of any size or shape.
He had to find an in at the marina. It only made sense that Royer would recruit or extort help from the people with easy access.
And Trent was convinced someone was helping him hide down there.
Not the owner of the marina. He and his family were squeaky clean according to Jess as well as the agency’s top forensic accountant.
Once he’d narrowed his list of likely Royer-conspirators, he sent the names back to the main office in Chicago for financial review and thorough background checks. He’d barely had time to pour a second cup of coffee before his cell phone rang with the tone he’d assigned to his boss, Nolan Swann.
One of the two attorneys who managed the Guardian Agency, Swann handled the bulk of oversight for the field operatives. “How are things in the Lowcountry?” Swann asked as soon as Trent picked up.
“One gorgeous day after another,” he replied, carrying his coffee outside. It was too beautiful to stay in. “This house is one of the best things going out here.”
“I believe it. Jess raves about that place. For the views and the strong security profile.”
“Definitely has that in spades.” Next door, machinery screeched.
“What the hell is that?”
“Developer on the adjoining property. They’re expanding. I’m sure it’ll be luxury condos crammed in as close as they can get them.”
“The Hargraves can’t be happy about that,” Swann muttered.
“Unfortunately, I’m not sure they can do much about it.
” Trent walked down toward the beach, away from the noise, refusing to get distracted by the fire pit where he hoped to kiss Natalie again.
“The Hideaway is still the only rental on the island with a private beach and the tree line offers some good privacy.”
“Glad to hear it. That should keep business humming for them. I’m calling to let you know the evidence links Frank Royer to both the body recovered on the boat and the body that washed up there in Brookwell.”
“Tommy will be so relieved.” The fourth man on the crew, Tommy Crenshaw, had surrendered, but had yet to give the authorities any helpful information on Royer.
Swann gave a bark of laughter. “Got that right. Have you found any signs that Royer made it to Brookwell?”
“Not yet.”
Swann muttered an oath. “I don’t like loose ends. Maybe he didn’t make it.”
Trent understood the hope in his boss’s voice. “Royer’s not the type to make things easy. Not even dying. He’s got a reputation for being crafty and believing he’s the smartest guy in any room.”
“Or boat,” Swann interjected. “But man versus ocean rarely goes well for man.”
Trent scrubbed at his face. “Maybe Tommy’s telling the truth and Royer turned on them before going overboard on purpose. The weather was clear, the sea calm. Maybe he intended to sink the crew with the boat and restart the operation as soon as he vetted another crew.”
“That makes just as much sense as anything else,” Swann agreed with a heavy sigh. “Especially with a new report of a boat stolen from a marina on Jekyll Island.”
Trent swore. “That would explain why I’m not finding him here.” How had Royer made it that far? “If it is him, now he has the perfect mobile hideout. I’ll get down there—”
“Not so fast,” Swann said. “We know Royer was working with someone on Brookwell. I need you to find out who’s helping him.”
Because Tommy’s statements wouldn’t be enough to keep Royer locked up.
Trent bristled, equally annoyed with Royer and committed to the mission.
“Whoever it is knows how to cover their tracks. I just sent a short list to the research team for financial reviews.” If he’d learned anything from Natalie, it was that in a small town, treading lightly was the name of the game.
“Much as I want to, I can’t just barge in and start asking questions.
I’ve been looking for a way in with the guys in the repair shop. ”
“That makes sense. They’d have easier access.”
“Right,” Trent agreed. “But if their clients lose property after service, they’d be the first suspects.”
“True. Can Jess help vet any of them?”
“Not really.” Frustrated, Trent turned back toward the noisy construction site. “I don’t know of anyone outside of the marina who could track these boats effectively.”
“Let the team work on the financials.” Swann cleared his throat. “Speaking of… Are you enjoying your investigation?”
“You’re looking at the fishing charter charges on my agency credit card.”
“I am.” Swann sounded amused. “I’m all about having a good time. And you know I’m just giving you crap.”
“I’m submitting it because the outing did lead to those new names. Potential leads.”
“You picked up good chatter on the outing?”
“Afterward actually.” Trent explained, “Natalie Hargrave has her thumb on the pulse when it comes to the folks around town.”
“As long as she’s not involved in the scheme,” Swann warned.
“She’s one third of the ownership for a business Guardian Agency partners with regularly.”
“I’m aware,” Swann allowed. “From the background in front of me, she’s the least involved with the business and has ties to some people with shady habits.”
Trent felt his temper spike. Natalie wouldn’t betray her sisters. Somehow, he summoned a gruff laugh. “Artists, you mean?”
“Her ex-husband is a con artist waiting to get caught,” Swann deadpanned. “And has also been recently seen in the area.”
He did not want to go down this path. “Natalie is not involved with her ex,” Trent stated. “I had my own reservations at first, especially since the body washed up on the Hargrave beach.”
“One more consideration.”
“I’ve considered, analyzed, and cleared her.” He couldn’t push any harder right now. “If something else gives me reason to change my mind about her, I’ll let you know.”
“Got it.”
Trent was certain Swann was smirking. A fair reaction, since Trent prided himself on his professional detachment.
There was no way Natalie was involved with Royer, not even by coincidence.
She was too kind. And he figured after the fiasco with her ex, she was too cautious and transparent to be of any use to a thief.
He understood some people did bad things for the rush of it.
Not Natalie. She got her endorphin rush through her artwork.
“Hey, I trust you not to fall for a pretty face with a thin alibi,” Swann said. “As our lead investigator with boots on the ground, you’re in control.”
“Gee, thanks.” Trent managed not to snarl.
“Just be careful. The way Royer has escalated to murder is troubling on all fronts. The research team hasn’t found anything that explains it.”
Another screech of mechanical equipment drew Trent’s attention, providing a good target for the pent-up irritation and annoyance. “I’m not giving up until we find Royer,” he vowed. “Or his connection here.”
“Glad to hear it. This has gone beyond justice for grand theft. This guy needs to pay for the lives he’s taken.”
“Understood.” Trent agreed wholeheartedly. Justice was one of the top reasons he’d joined the Guardian Agency. “I’ll be in touch when I have news.”
Ending the call, Trent studied the coastline.
He had to admire the perfect timing that allowed Natalie’s parents to purchase this unique lot on this side of the island.
The neighboring properties would have wonderful views but not a private beach due to the natural landscape.
He walked over to where the body had washed up.
For several minutes he studied the current and tide line while his thoughts wandered.
A man like Royer hadn’t gone into the water without a plan.
At every turn, he’d proven to be a quick-thinker and resourceful strategist. Whatever had driven him to turn on his crew, he likely would have planned for that possible outcome.
At night, with the boarding and gunfire, it’s possible Royer had arranged for a chase boat to be within swimming distance.
Despite the distractions of the gunfight and seizure, Trent had to believe someone on the Coast Guard crew would’ve noticed another boat nearby, either visually or on the radar.
The other likely possibility was that a conspirator from Brookwell had met him at a designated location. Maybe he’d even let the current bring him ashore. If that was the case, any signs of his survival were long gone, washed away with the tide or muddled by the responders who recovered the body.
“What a damn mess."
The man was certainly fit enough, and gritty enough, to swim a few miles across the ocean. Royer was a survivor. Crafty, up to no good, and always determined to come out on top.
If he had come ashore, where would he be hiding?
More construction noise crashed from the other side of the marine forest between the properties.
The Hargraves owned two-thirds of that tree line, so even if the new construction went to the very edge of the property, they would still have a good buffer.
Although he couldn’t confirm without a few phone calls, he suspected removing any part of that forest would be impossible based on the environmental preservation ordinances and zoning laws.