Troubled Waters

Except for Tracie. She still looked at him warily and had that chip on her shoulder he couldn’t yet account for. Did that mean Tracie was connected to Trevor’s diamond-smuggling friends, or involved in some way in Trevor’s death? If he’d read about her attitude in a report, he might have reached that conclusion. But having met her, he wasn’t so sure.

No, her eyes had gone a little too wide at the sight of blood, for one thing. She’d jumped a little too high when the bullets started flying. And she’d only been wearing a lightweight bulletproof vest when the tip of the rifle had peeked through the window curtains at Trevor’s. If she’d had inside knowledge, she’d have gone in prepared. But as it was, if he’d grabbed her a split-second later, Tracie would have been dead.

Heath replayed the scene through his mind in slow motion. He’d sensed something was wrong, but the gun had still taken him by surprise. His reaction had been pure training and instinct, no time to stop and think things through. Tracie had felt so light in his arms, and so delicate. He’d been surprised by the overwhelming need he’d felt to protect her.

He glanced over at her now, sitting quietly with her head bowed as the minister prayed, her bulky fisherman-style sweater doing little to disguise her slender frame. Underneath her tough exterior, he sensed that she was fragile—frightened, even. But she’d put up a thick wall to keep him out.

In order to find out what she knew, he’d have to break through that wall somehow. In the four days he’d known her, he’d figured out it wouldn’t fall easily. But if he could get inside to the timid woman underneath, he might be able to convince her to lean on him.

And then? Well, then he’d have his answers, which was the whole point of this assignment. His mission would be accomplished. So why did the idea of getting close to Tracie Crandall frighten him so much?

Tracie followed Tim to the fellowship hall after the final song. She wasn’t sure how to tell him what had happened at his brother’s house the day before. Fortunately, she didn’t have to. Tim had already heard.

“I’m so glad you weren’t injured. The first I heard, nobody knew which Coasties had been involved in the shooting, but I had a sense you were one of them. I even called your house, but you weren’t home yet.”

“You could have left a message.” Tracie wouldn’t have minded the excuse to call and talk to him sooner.

“I didn’t want to bother you.” Tim clutched a cup of coffee without drinking from it.

“Don’t worry about bothering me,” she patted his free arm. “You’re my friend.”

“Right.” His eyes darted about the room. Though he’d been off drugs for weeks, he still had a jumpy, disjointed manner about him. He leaned a little closer and lowered the volume of his voice. “I’ve been asking some questions.”

“Questions?”

“Some of Trevor’s old buddies. Somebody has to have heard something.”

Though part of her didn’t want Tim doing any investigative work on his own, Tracie felt partly relieved he’d taken the initiative. Tim had contacts she had no other way of reaching, but she’d never feel comfortable asking him to get in touch with them for her. “And?” she prompted.

“Hello, Tracie.” Heath had snuck up on her.

Tim pinched his mouth shut.

Tracie could have kicked her new partner. “Hello, Heath.” She knew she needed to introduce Heath to Tim, but she didn’t know how to break it to Tim that Heath had replaced his older brother. “Tim, have you met—?”

“No,” Tim shifted his coffee to his other hand. “You’re Heath, right?”

“Heath Gerlach,” her new partner shook Tim’s hand. “And you’re Tim Price.”

“Yes. Trevor’s little brother.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your loss.”

“Thank you.”

The men maintained eye contact, and Tracie tried hard to read what passed between them. Animosity? No, Tim was too pure of heart since his conversion to sink to that. She didn’t even sense a competitive spirit. In fact, they almost seemed to share understanding. Sympathy. Tracie felt herself softening ever so slightly toward Heath. She didn’t nearly trust him, but he’d demonstrated a rare sensitivity toward her grieving friend. It was far more than she’d expected.

Now she just had to figure out how to get rid of Heath so Tim would finish telling her what he’d learned.

“You’re filling my brother’s slot on the force, hmm?” Tim raised his cup to his lips, his face curious, his tone without guile.

“He’s left me some pretty big shoes to fill,” Heath offered.

“Size fourteen, to be exact,” Tim offered.

Tracie chuckled along with them, her mind immediately latching on to Trevor’s shoe size. The same as the footprints they’d found at his house. But he’d been dead for over a month. Could the footprints have been that old? Impossible—far too much snow had fallen since then. Could their gunman have slipped on a pair of Trevor’s boots to throw them off his trail? It was certainly a possibility.

She was so intrigued by the idea, she didn’t pay attention to what the men were discussing until she heard Tim saying, “As I was just telling Tracie, I’ve been in contact with some of Trevor’s friends.”

“But I thought everyone involved in the diamond smuggling had been caught,” Heath said, his words taking Tracie back to the final showdown on Devil’s Island six weeks before—right after Trevor’s death.

“Everyone involved,” Tim repeated, his eyes darting around the room. He lowered his voice and leaned in closer to the two of them. “You must not realize how deep this thing goes.”

“Why don’t you enlighten me?” Heath’s quiet voice remained casual.

Tim shrugged. “I’m meeting with some guys tonight. I don’t know if I’ll learn anything, but if you guys to stop by my place tomorrow, say around noon, I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“Tomorrow at noon then.” Heath graciously raised his coffee cup to Tim, then took a sip and walked away.

Tracie watched him go, her insides roiling with a mixture of frustration and distrust.

Tim’s words pulled her from her thoughts. “He seems nice.”

“Yes.” Tracie admitted. “He does.” Almost too nice.

Heath called Jonas Goodman as soon as he got back to his apartment.

“Tim Price is talking.”

“Really?” his FBI supervisor actually sounded impressed for once. “And what’s he saying?”

“I don’t know yet. We’re meeting him tomorrow at noon. I’ll call you afterward.”

“Are you sure you’re up to this? I received your medical report last night. Those bruises on your back look ugly.”

“They’re even uglier today, but that’s not going to stop me. This case is cracking, and that gunman yesterday has me convinced whatever’s going down here is big. You don’t pull out an assault rifle unless you’re pretty desperate.”

“Or pretty stupid.” Jonas noted. “Remember, we are working with crooks here.”

“Crooks who successfully imported synthetic diamonds and passed them off as the real thing for over a decade,” Heath reminded his boss. “Hardly the work of a jumpy amateur.”

Jonas let the remark slide. “What about the girl? Got any dirt on her?”

“Tracie?” Heath bristled at his boss’s choice of words. “She’s clean so far.”

“Then dig deeper. She was way too tight with Trevor not to be involved with his business. We need to catch the remaining smugglers who are still out there. She has to know something.”

Heath’s hand tightened on his phone. “How do you know that? Do you have information you haven’t passed on to me?”