Weaving through the mass of people, he looked for Cressida and called her name. Tried her cell but got nowhere.Most onlookers held up their cell phones to take video. He jogged around the structures and tents, finally spotting a temporary restroom fifteen yards away. He approached and knocked on the door. “Cressida?”
“Nope!” a guy answered.
Great.
Panic set in, burning a line up his throat. Where had she gone?Lord, helpme!
He headed toward the boardwalk and then the marina, all the slips packed with boats. Then rushed back around through the crowd to find Trent.
“Detective Sanders,” one of the deputies said. “We didn’t see her leave, but we were watching the crowd, trying to shut down videos. One woman got the video on her cell and showed me that no one left the alley.”
No one left the alley? Then where was she? “How’s that possible?”
Braden thanked the deputy, then rushed back into the alley where Trent was on his radio. He glanced at Braden. “Sheriff’s on his way.”
“Good. He’s got to take lead in this. I need to find Cressida.”
Trent lifted his shoulders and dropped them. “She was there, Braden. How was I supposed to know that she would just walk away?”
“She didn’t walk away.” He stared at the tent walls where he’d last seen her. Stepping forward, he pressed his hand against the canvas and it flapped inward with little pressure. He saw clearly now that someone had cut this opening. His weapon at the ready, he stepped through and found the tent empty. One look and he realized it was a weapons display tent, but it had been shut off from the public. This had to be the way she’d gone. The big question was, why had she left?
He glanced to the ground and immediately saw signsof a struggle. She hadn’t left on her own. He bent down and lifted the chain from the ground—the chain minus the locket with the coordinates to some kind of dread on the ocean floor.
She’d been taken, definitely taken. Someone—possibly whoever had killed Derek Harlan—had the information they were after.
“Diggins.” He growled the name between clenched teeth. He was the one who wanted the “truth” from Evelyn Monroe.
Braden rushed out the back of the tent and eyed the boardwalk and the water. One boat headed out of the bay.
TheMariner’s Gambit.
Braden radioed Trent as he raced to the marina shop to get his hands on a rental boat, but that was going to be tough during the Pirates’ Bash. “I’m going after Cressida. I think she’s been abducted and someone’s taking her out to sea.”
“What? Why?”
“I need backup. Get the state police. Find a marine division willing to help. Call the Coast Guard. Anyone. Everyone. I’ll send you the coordinates when I have them. I believe we’re going after theMariner’s Gambit, and I need everyone on this.” It could be a matter of national security.
“But what about Derek Harlan? He was murdered.”
“His troubles are over. We’ll learn the truth for him. Did you get the coroner?”
“I’ll take care of everything. I’ll get the resources moving. Go find her!”
Braden ended the radio call and was almost at the chandlery when his cell buzzed.
Octavia. He didn’t have time to mess with her, but neither could he ignore her. He answered. “Braden here. We have a problem.”
“You sound breathless.”
“Because I’m running. Cressida’s been taken.” And he couldn’t be sure it was out on the water. “I’ve called in the resources to help me search.”
“What?” Octavia continued to scream and berate him.
“I’m heading out to sea to find her.”
She swore under her breath, but he still heard it. “I’ll be there within the hour.”
“I’m not waiting for you. I think someone’s taking her to coordinates that we’ve found, we just don’t know exactly what this is about. We have some theories, but if you know, now would be the time to tell me.”
