Raquelle considered whether or not Fred Davenport might have placed a GPS tracker on her Infiniti when he was lurking around the vehicle on campus—with those responsible for Davenport’s death now being able to track her whereabouts in search of Eddie.
Should I go look for it on my car?she asked herself, sighing.
While grappling with that and about to call Landon for further clarification, Raquelle heard a familiar voice say in an uneven tone, “You came…”
She turned to see Eddie standing there. He was wearing a blue cap and dark shades along with a brown corduroy shacket over a white crewneck T-shirt, jeans, and black hiking shoes. He was sporting a five o’clock shadow beard on his face.
“Of course I did,” she told him levelly, as though he had given her a choice.
“Thanks.” His eyes darted in both directions nervously. “Let’s walk…away from everyone…and then we can talk.”
“Okay.” Raquelle walked beside him toward the end of the pier that extended out onto the lake on both sides. It allowed them a bird’s-eye view of others coming and going.
For now—not wanting Eddie to freak out if she called Landon to tell him where they were—Raquelle put her cell phone back inside the pocket of her slim jeans. They were worn with an almond-colored chenille sweater and comfort shoes. She had her hair in a low ponytail.
Removing his sunglasses, Eddie regarded her and asked casually, as if a routine conversation starter, “So, how have you been?”
“Worried to death about you,” Raquelle said, meeting his brown eyes squarely. “More than once—with zero communication between us after the boat explosion—I feared you were dead.”
“I get that,” he muttered. “My bad. I’m sorry I put you through everything that I did.”
“I’m just glad you’re all right.” She decided with a once-over that he didn’t appear to be the worse for wear in spite of living life on the run. “Why did you drop out of sight instead of contacting me or Landon for help…?”
Eddie’s shoulders slumped. “I really screwed up,” he offered contritely. “Made some bad choices that I wished I could take back. That includes selling some Native American art that I knew wasn’t legit—but I needed the money. When Landon offered me a way out by becoming his CI and being let off the hook—I took it.” He sucked in a breath. “But after the people I was working with discovered I was feeding Landon information, they came after me. When I was nearly blown up with my pontoon, I panicked—not sure if there was a mole within the FBI or who I could trust… I didn’t want to get you involved and become a target too, so I fled—”
“To the rez,” Raquelle finished his story. “Jay called me.” When she saw Eddie furrow his brow, as if this wasan act of betrayal, she told her brother, “He was worried about you—and felt I had a right to know, after visiting the reservation in search of you.”
“I know,” he spoke equably. “I saw you there, with Landon—but I just wasn’t ready to see either of you at that time.”
She gazed at him, questioning. “And you are now…?”
“Yeah. I was tiring of having to continuously look over my shoulder.” Eddie’s chin jutted. “I want my life back and am prepared to tell Landon everything I know and give him what I’ve gathered to make his case against a dirty art dealer and his associates. But first, I needed to see you to try and explain what happened—if you’d let me…”
“I’m glad you did, Eddie—and thank you for coming back to the surface.” Raquelle’s eyes welled with tears, and she hugged her brother.
“Love you too, sis,” he spoke emotionally, hugging her back.
She looked him in the eye and said straightforwardly, “Now, we need to get you out of here. Landon thinks that a GPS tracker may have been put on my car, meaning I could have been followed here by—”
Eddie said swiftly, “We’ll take my car…”
“Okay.” Raquelle didn’t bother to ask where he got the vehicle, knowing that his Audi Q4 Sportback e-tron had been impounded by the authorities as part of the investigation into his disappearance. Beyond that, she was sure that Landon would soon be at the marina to assist in getting Eddie out of harm’s way. But perhaps not soon enough for them to wait it out.
They left the pier and were headed down the dockwalkway when they were suddenly approached by a tall and bearded thirtysomething man who was stocky and had black hair in a hipster fade style and dark eyes. Raquelle noted that he was holding a gun with a silencer—and pointing it at Eddie.
“You’re a hard man to track down, Eddie—or should I call yousnitch?” the man said in a deep and hardened voice.
Raquelle turned to look at her brother, who responded tartly, “Guess you just didn’t try hard enough, Yusef.”
“You know him?” She eyed Eddie and then the other man.
“Yeah. His name’s Yusef Abercrombie,” Eddie answered matter-of-factly. “He works for Ivan Pimentel, the dirty art dealer who wants me dead.”
Both names rang a bell to Raquelle as she’d heard them mentioned more than once by Landon in regards to Eddie missing in action and the art-crimes investigation. “This can’t be happening,” she thought out loud.
“I’m afraid it is.” Abercrombie peered at her, then turned to Eddie. “Welcome back from the should-be dead,” he said sarcastically. “The man I hired to get the job done was an utter failure. My mistake. He’s left me to do the dirty work for him—and clean up his mess…”
Eddie sneered. “So, what, you plan to shoot me here at the marina, where any and everyone can see…?”
