The marina.
I didn’t know for sure, and if I was wrong, I’d lose precious time. But if I was right…
The moment I hit the driver’s seat, I tore down the street and hit the group text with Ford, Sawyer, and Daniel.
Me:
Someone took Madden. I figure Carson. Need backup at the marina ASAP.
I’m coming, Counselor. Hang on.
The two miles seemed to stretch forever as I sped through stop signs and whipped around other vehicles. More than one pedestrian leapt back from the road. At least one flipped me off. I half expected one of the other island cops to end up on my tail, lights flashing. Fine. Let them help take down their boss.
But none of them showed by the time I screeched to a stop in the parking lot. Daniel was already there, and Ford was coming in hot behind me. I bolted for the docks, already scanning for that rangy, weather-beaten figure. He wouldn’t be in the section with the sailboats. Not on a police chief’s salary. And not the commercial fishing further down. Too many prospective witnesses. If he had a boat here, it would be somewhere in the warren of smaller slips.
I heard another truck door slam, and Sawyer shouted, “Go on. I’m right behind you!”
We garnered an assortment of confused looks from a handful of tourists as we fanned out to search. I ignored them, looking only for evidence that I was right.
It was the flash of bright blue tarp that caught my eye. Well out on the end of the oldest section of the marina, a figure struggled under the weight of some wrapped bundle draped over his shoulder. A bundle the approximate size of a woman.
I poured on the speed, dodging around a fisherman and his cooler, leaping over a pile of fishing tackle. He didn’t hear me coming until I rounded the final corner and hit the long stretch of warped boards reaching out into the water. As he turned, the bundle shifted, and I caught a glimpse of a hand. Unconscious? Worse? I didn’t dare think about it as I bellowed, “Stop!”
Carson hesitated, glancing back toward a boat nearly at the end.
“Don’t you fucking dare, Carson!”
He whipped around fully as he realized the others were behind me. Lifting a gun, he aimed in our direction. “Don’t come any closer!”
“Chief, put the gun down,” Daniel called. “Let’s not get hasty here.”
“Hasty? I’ve devoted my fucking life to this island. To keeping it safe.”
“But not for everybody equally,” I growled.
Carson scowled. “Needs of the many, son. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices.”
“That’s not how the law works.” Not how it was supposed to work, anyway.
He snorted. “This is so much bigger than the law. And when it all crashes down, know it’ll be her fault.”
What the hell did that mean?
“Put her down, Carson.”
He glared at me with undisguised hatred. “You want her? Fine. Go get her.”
Before I could make a sound, he heaved the tarp-wrapped bundle into the water.
Eyes on where it had gone under, I began to run, ignoring Carson as he bolted further down the pier, presumably for one of the boats. I had to trust that my friends would go after him.
I leapt for where she’d disappeared. Water closed over my head, the waves shoving my body around before I managed to reorient and swim toward the bottom. This part of the marina wasn’t as deep as the commercial section that had to make room for bigger boats, and I thanked God for it as I caught sight of blue. Kicking hard, I reached out, fingers closing over the plastic and hauling. It floated toward me with no resistance. She wasn’t secured inside it.
I fought with the tarp, struggling to get past it to where she would’ve fallen to the bottom. There was no movement below, no evidence she was conscious. Was she still breathing when she went in?
Come on, baby. Hold on for me.
My war with the tarp had kicked up so much silt I was reaching blind along the bottom, desperation rising with every inch as my lungs screamed for oxygen. Then my hand closed over a foot. That foot was attached to a leg, and from there I managed to wrap my arms around the rest of her. Exhaling the last of my air, I sank fully to the bottom in a crouch, then shoved hard toward the surface.
