Chapter 1 #2
The radio report confirmed Mackenzie’s information, though she’d dialed up the timeline of the impending disaster for the hapless Roger.
Authorities were concerned about a failure of the Cotton Flower Dam, which had needed repairs for decades.
Gideon had known all that. Engineers were monitoring the situation, but residents had been told to stay alert, as evacuation orders could be issued in the upcoming week.
He’d totally have been able to complete an eight-hour survival class and get Roger safely on the road before midnight.
Had she been trying to scare Roger away out of spite?
But why show up at his class? Now? There had to be plenty of other people she could harass besides him.
Her expression was impassive. “Still on active duty? Teaching in your spare time at the old stomping grounds?”
Their family friend owned this hunk of soggy land and gave permission to Gideon to use it for free. “Yes.”
“Why? Most guys would be feet up in a recliner or on a boat fishing on their leave time.”
None of your business. But the manners drilled into him by his parents kept him from articulating the thought. Instead he turned the tables. “Finish the police academy?”
She shook her head. “No. Quit that for good.”
He hadn’t heard. She’d been working on her academy requirements when Aaron was murdered. He’d assumed she would eventually go on to complete the program and earn her badge. So she wasn’t law enforcement. That explained plenty. “That’s how you get away with saying that stuff on your podcast.”
Her tone hardened. “I don’t ‘get away’ with anything.”
“Podcasting theories, no matter how unproven.”
“I tell the truth and dig into cold cases.”
“Like your brother’s.”
She looked out the window into the pounding rain. “Yes. Like his. I’ve covered four so far,” she added in a defensive tone. “And thanks to the podcast, three have been solved.”
But no one had been arrested for the assassination-style murder of Aaron Bardine during a drug deal gone bad two years prior.
Gideon remembered how she’d come at him when he’d gone to pay his respects at the house after the funeral.
The image of her face, swollen from crying and seething with rage, was burned into his brain.
“Aaron was your best friend. Did you know something was wrong?”
He had, and heard the question she couldn’t voice. Why didn’t you make him tell you? And he caught on to her self-recrimination as well. Why didn’t I do so either? He blinked away the memory. The rain continued to smash against the Jeep’s windshield as he drove.
It was hard to look at her and not see Aaron.
A wet, windblown branch caught in the wipers.
He saw her glance in the side-view mirror at the white truck he’d noticed when they turned into the town of Oakleaf.
Only five hundred residents lived in this wooded hollow settled in a valley rich with stunning views.
Several of the shop owners were busily boarding up their windows.
The ones who’d already invested in storm shutters had rolled them into place.
None of those measures would help if the dam failed, which they well knew.
Survival meant hoping for the best while planning for the worst. No place for pessimists.
Her fingers gripped the door handle as they rolled toward the main drag.
He pulled to the side to allow the white truck to pass.
The driver wasted no time speeding by, a bearded guy behind the wheel soaking in Mackenzie’s profile as he went.
Not out of the ordinary. Mackenzie was not a cover girl type, but there was something about her that made people, particularly men, pay attention.
Gideon had been paying attention forever, or so it felt.
Her gaze stayed forward-facing, but he saw her making note of the plates as the truck vanished down the street.
“What’s going on, Zee?”
“Not much. Just a little vacation here in lovely rural Washington. Figured it was time to get out of Seattle. How about with you?”
“Knock off the coy routine.” He jutted his chin. “Who was that in the truck?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sure it doesn’t have something to do with your online crusade?”
She didn’t look at him, but her jaw tightened. “I use my platform for good. You don’t approve of that?”
“Depends on your motivation.” Still, she gave him no eye contact.
“And what do you think that would be, in my case?”
He shrugged. “I’m sure the advertisers on your podcast are thrilled with your follower count. Close to twenty thousand, right?” He cringed inwardly at his slip.
“Flattered that you looked me up. If you’d helped me, like I asked . . .”
He heaved out a breath. “Let’s not fire up this whole argument again.”
Mackenzie was silent, fingers drumming on her knee.
“Look, Zee. Like I told you then, I—”
“I know. You couldn’t go on camera because of your job. And you wouldn’t review the timeline of that night, your impressions, anything related to the case because you’d gone over it all with the police. You had other priorities.”
“You should too,” he snapped. “This is a police matter. You have to move on with your life, like I told you when you asked me.”
“And what if I can’t do that?” A ripple of emotion crossed her face, a shimmer of anguish—there, then gone—hidden under quiet anger.
He didn’t know the answer, wasn’t sure he’d done much better than she had in accepting Aaron’s death.
She’d thrown herself into the podcast, and he’d watched her grow more brash about her theories as she told her viewers that the kingpin responsible for a huge portion of the drug trafficking in the Pacific Northwest, a man she referred to as “Bullseye,” would be brought to justice.
She didn’t shirk from stating that she believed Bullseye—someone who fed on desperation and peddled pharmaceutical relief—was responsible for Aaron’s death as much as if he’d pulled the trigger himself.
As far as she was concerned, Aaron was an innocent victim in the whole mess.
Gideon wasn’t as convinced, which was another reason he’d declined to help her investigation. Better for her to grieve the brother she’d known.
The FBI and DEA also had Bullseye on their radar, and Gideon imagined they didn’t enjoy her taking the case to the social media world.
A vein still jumped in her jaw.
Only another mile until he delivered his passenger. Might as well try not to inflame things further. He took a breath. “So you’re here because of your podcast.”
“I have a contact in this area.”
This area. His suspicions were correct. “That’s why you’re in town?”
A sly grin overtook her anger. “What? You don’t believe I’m here because I wanted to take your class?”
“Not in any way, shape, or form.”
She chuckled. “You always were a suspicious one, Gideon, that’s why you have a permanent furrow between your manly eyebrows.”
And you always knew how to disarm my defenses. Annoying, the way she commanded his attention. He could still picture her in that green dress, her eyes dancing in a way that would disappear forever in a matter of hours when her brother was murdered.
He recalled a similar gaze—her brother’s—on that sultry August night in California when Gideon had discovered Aaron wrecked in a ditch on the base where they’d both been sent for SERE training. He’d reeked of whiskey.
“Oh man, Gid. Glad it’s you. Not gonna rat me out, are you?”
And Gideon had made a choice that night, one with deep roots reaching all the way back to their high school trauma.
“I’m sorry, Aaron. I can’t do it again.” And he’d called it in. Aaron was remanded into the equivalent of Air Force jail until his discharge.
Publicly, Aaron laughed about it to anyone who had the bad taste to bring it up, as if the whole episode was a youthful prank, though Aaron had landed back in civilian life stripped of his pension and military benefits.
Mackenzie’s gorgeous silvery eyes, so like her brother’s, were hard now, stripped of their luster.
He shifted on the seat, kicked up the windshield wipers to full against the blasting rain. “When’s your meet?”
“Depends,” she said with a vague shrug.
They drove by the police station, a squat relic with ugly cement trim and putty-colored paint. Mackenzie scanned the building.
“My contact was arrested yesterday. She’s here being processed.”
Arrested. Interesting. So the cops would have forty-eight hours to charge the detainee or cut her loose.
Was that why Mackenzie was here, in case the woman was released?
Waste of time otherwise. No one would be let in unless they were a lawyer.
His vague unease began to swell. “How do you know that?”
She hesitated. “Sources.”
“What sources?”
“None of your business.”
So much for civility. “Bummer for your podcast. Must have been a blow to have your contact arrested before you could record her.” He didn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice, nor did she react to it.
Strange. Their rapport since Aaron’s death had been at the matches and gasoline type of reactivity level.
Now he was getting nothing. “Think they’ll charge her? ”
“Yep.”
Mackenzie had her nose in everything. So why would she wait around? Not your concern, Gid. He had to off-load Mackenzie before the match touched the fuel. At least he could do that much. “Where do you want me to drop you off?”
“Coffee shop, please. There.”
He eased into the nearly empty lot of The Daily Grind.
Only two vehicles and a squad car were parked on the slick asphalt.
The rain slackened for a few moments, but the gunmetal clouds proclaimed it was only temporary.
A monster storm was coming, and soon. The dam was about to be sorely tested, along with anyone who stayed.
He idled, waiting for her to get out. When she didn’t, he fiddled with the heater and waited some more.
She turned to him. “How long are you on leave?”
“Another week.”
“Seeing your folks?”
“Yes.”
“Your mom doing okay?”