“What’s so funny?”
“You. Not being a cop. It looks just the same as you being a cop.”
She playfully kicked some small stones at him with her boot. His hands stilled. His eyes darkened as his gaze held hers.
Angie swallowed as a soft rush of desire filled her belly. The specter of their future rose into the silence between them. Yeah, she thought as she looked into Maddocks’s dark-blue eyes, she was going to make this work. She’d pull back from her crazy work hours a little, pace herself. Try to enjoy life and this man along the way. Because before she knew it, she could be a body in some grave, just like those bones in the grove.
“We could buy a place, you know,” he said, standing up and dusting off his pants. “Start house hunting when we get back. Move in together.”
Surprise washed through her. “I ... what about your yacht? I thought you liked living at the marina.”
He laughed. “Not big enough for two. We could keep it, though, and use the old schooner as your office, maybe.”
“Office?”
“Yeah. You know, when you open your new ‘boutique investigations agency.’” He made his own air quotes, a big grin on his face. “Jack-O would make a great office mascot, don’t you think? There are other small businesses at the marina. The place is set up for it, got parking. It’s close to downtown yet kinda private. Got its own cachet. It’d be a good fit, I think.”
Speechless, she stared at her fiancé. The image of his wooden character-filled schooner and his little three-legged rescue mutt filled her mind. She could actually visualize it. Jesus, itwasattractive. It was like he’d just this very minute given her a tangible picture of what her goal could look like, something she could hold in her mind while she raked muck for Jock Brixton. But before she could speak, a honk sounded from across the river, and a big red Ford truck with a trailer and jet boat in tow started backing down, trailer clattering toward the water.
Angie and Maddocks watched as the crew—it looked like Claire Tollet and Hugh Carmanagh—worked to get the boat into the river. Behind them a third person alighted from the truck. A big male in a bright-blue jacket and red ball cap. Slung around his neck was what appeared to be camera equipment with a massive telephoto lens.
“Fuck,” Angie whispered, shading her eyes against the rain as she squinted at the big male ambling down to the water’s edge. The man stopped, looked directly at them, and raised his lens to his face.
“Is that what I think it is?” she said. “Media?”
“Could be,” Maddocks said, watching.
Angie swore again, tension rising to a boiling point in her chest. “So much for a nice remote location away from city stresses,” she snapped.
Once the boat was in the water, Claire and the big guy climbed inside. Claire took the helm, and the craft wobbled as Hugh pushed them out into the current. The engine growled to life. Claire turned the prow to face Angie and Maddocks. The boat surged up onto a wake as it gunned toward them across the wide expanse of water.
As the boat neared, Blue Jacket raised his camera lens again and appeared to shoot more images of Angie and Maddocks waiting with their gear on the bank.
“Fuckit,”Angie whispered, fury riding hard in her. “That’s all I need. To be in the press again. Brixton won’t tolerate it—he just won’t. He made it clear as glass that I need to stay low-key and under the radar if I want to keep working for him. He wants his investigators incognito, to have the ability to blend in anywhere.”
As the jet boat reached the south shore, Claire eased up on the engine, slowing the craft until it nudged gently against the shale incline of the beach. Claire tossed Maddocks a line. He caught it and pulled the boat ashore.
Angie marched straight up to the massive guy in the blue jacket as he clambered out of the boat, sloshed through the water, and strode onto the bank.
“What are you doing with that camera?” she demanded.
“Hey.” He smiled and proffered a big ham of a hand. “I’m Dave Falcon. Reporter with thePort Ferris Beaconas well as a stringer for CBC.You must be Angie Pallorino.”
She glowered at him, ignoring his hand. “How do you know who I am?”
His smile turned hesitant. He diverted his hand to adjust the bill of his cap against the rain. “Was listening to the scanner early this morning. Heard human remains had been found in the Nahamish old growth. I called the lodge.” His gaze ticked briefly to Claire, who was helping Maddocks load the camping gear into the boat. “I know the folk up at Predator Lodge. They told me that you—Angie Pallorino—and a Detective James Maddocks of the new MVPD iMIT unit found the grave.” Dave nodded a greeting to Maddocks as he spoke. Maddocks ignored him as he loaded the last dry bag into the jet craft.
“We did not find anything,” Angie said coolly. “A mushroom picker found something. Nothing to do with us.”
“But you guys camped out here last night, right? Secured the scene, waited for the RCMP and the coroner.” He wiped rain from his chin. It was pummeling down hard now. “Claire said if I got up to the lodge pronto, she’d bring me over. I’m headed into the grove now to see if I can catch up with Darnell and Erick while they’re still out there.”
“Darnell? Erick? Friends of yours?”
“The Mounties?” He shrugged a meaty shoulder. “Sure. Small town, you know? Everyone knows everyone. We all go back, and our parents before that.” He turned to study the trees growing tight along the bank. A scraggy red ponytail hung out the back of his ball cap. “So you’re the angel’s cradle baby,” he said, regarding the forest.
Angie’s pulse quickened. She saw Maddocks fire a hot glare at her, reminding her to tread carefully.
“Such a cool story,” he said louder, still facing the trees. “I recognized your name instantly from all the recent media coverage.” He looked down at her. A hard glint entered his eyes. He smiled, showing sharp little canines. “I’m looking forward to reading Dr.Reinhold Grablowski’s book when it releases next month. You worked with him at the MVPD, didn’t you? On the Baptist case. Before you were terminated.”
