The dock was deserted, except for a few enterprising seagulls coasting overhead, seeking the usual food scraps dropped by messy humans. Evening fog rolled in over the Marin Headlands, bringing a moist chill to the air and making me glad we’d worn our Bay Wind jackets.
When we reached the location on the dock where I’d seen the man fall, a roly-poly harbor seal with impressive whiskers poked its head up from the basin’s briny seawater. He gazed at us with round, curious brown eyes—another hungry resident hoping for a handout.
“Is this the spot?” Nick asked.
“It is.” I pointed to the traces of bloodstain still visible on the planks of the dock. “He fell right there. That’s where I took the blood sample.”
He looked around. “How do you want to do this?”
“If it was a gunshot wound, the bullet must have grazed his head and kept going. If it had penetrated his skull, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have vanished from the dock so quickly.”
“Unless he fell over the side.” Nick peered down into the dark water. “How do we know his body isn’t in Davy Jones’s locker?”
“We don’t, but my guess is he would have floated by now. Someone would have spotted his body. Not to mention that I didn’t hear a splash.”
“They might have dragged him out of sight and dumped him in the water later, you know. Or you didn’t hear the splash because of the noise of the wind and the riggings. It’s been a week. He could be in the Marin County Morgue as we speak.”
I watched as the seal dropped out of sight in the murky water. “I know, but let’s take it one step at a time. We didn’t come here to search for a body. We came to see if we could find a bullet.”
We spent half an hour pacing the dock, scrutinizing the pilings and checking the bows of nearby boats. To avoid looking suspicious, we pretended to admire the various yachts moored there, as if making up our minds what we might want for ourselves. I was just about to concede to Nick that our search was futile, when my cell buzzed. A text from Harry: God’s Gift 2 owners Carver and Prine.
“Nick, look at this!” I held out my phone.
Nick read the text. “What gives?” He glanced toward the end of the dock where God’s Gift was still moored. “I thought those two docs didn’t get along.”
“They got along okay until Paulo Ferrera turned up at TMC. When I asked Harry to check for other owners, I wasn’t expecting this. I’d thought if there was a second owner, it might be someone from down here in the Bay Area. Maybe another Bay Wind Yacht Club member who has nothing to do with Timbergate Medical Center.”
“How does this sit with those two overseeing Paulo Ferrera’s medical care?”
“I don’t like it.” I brushed back a wisp of hair the breeze had skimmed across my face. “I’ll have to run it by Cleo.”
I texted my thanks back to Harry and asked if he’d made any headway on Liliana’s email account. He sent back a quick reply: Have an idea. Call me.
I called. He answered immediately. “We’re not getting anywhere trying to guess how the Ferrera girl set up her hush-hush email account.”
“I thought you had some sort of algorithm for that.”
“There are so many variables, we can’t count on it working in time.”
That was awful news. I’d counted on Harry and his friends. “That girl’s life is in terrible jeopardy, Harry. What else can we do? We need to fire up the police before Sunday night, or she may be gone forever.”
“I’m still hoping we can sniff out that Francisco character, prove he was catfishing when he hooked up with her. We need to convince the police she was being targeted by a predator.”
“If you can’t get into her secret account, what do we do?”
“That’s why I called. Tell me everything you recall Liliana’s friend in the Azores saying about the online boyfriend.”
“Not much. He spoke both Portuguese and English, and he was teaching Liliana some English.”
“Can you be more specific?” Harry asked. “We need to know why Liliana hit it off with this Francisco. What did they have in common? Everything Liliana might have told her friend about the guy. We have to narrow this thing down.”
“I don’t … wait. Mom asked Catia what it was about the boy that intrigued Liliana. She said it was a common interest in music. That’s so typical of teens that I didn’t give it a second thought.”
“What kind of music do teen girls listen to in the Azores?” Harry said.
“Maybe Fado? I don’t know what else, except kids all over the world seem to like American popular music.”
“I remember Fado from last time I was there,” Harry said. “Not sure what connection that would have for an American boy in California.”
“Me, either, but Fado can be addictive, once you start listening to it.”
“Do you know the names of any Fado singers?”
“Actually, I do. This last trip to the Azores got me hooked. I set up a Fado station on Pandora when we got home. I started it with Ana Moura. She’s a Fado superstar. I can’t think of any other vocalists’ names.”
“Whoa, here’s something,” he said.
“What? Are you doing a search right now?”
“Jackpot! Ana Moura has a connection to Mick Jagger and Prince.”
“Really? Rolling Stones and the Purple One? Two American music icons! That would explain how a teen in the Azores and a teen in California might have music in common.”
“Yep. This post implies that your Ana Moura is a protégée of Mick Jagger. Apparently, she might have dated him, but she also visited Prince in Minneapolis a few years ago.”
“Sad, about his dying so young, but this sounds like tabloid stuff, Harry. Do you really think it’ll help you identify Liliana’s secret email?”
“Maybe,” Harry said. “If Liliana and Francisco had music in common, this could be something to work with. I’ll take it to my friendly hackers, but don’t get your hopes up.”
Hope was in short supply. “We don’t have much time, Harry. By Sunday night, finding that email account will be the least of our worries. We have to do more.”
“We will. You go ahead and talk to Kass. Maybe the police in Horta can jog Catia’s memory. Maybe she still knows more than she’s been telling. Another interview might produce something. Kass can expedite it with the police in Horta.”
“Unless the prospect of being interrogated by the police again scares Catia speechless. She’s easily intimidated.”
“We’ll have to trust that they know how to approach her.” Harry paused. I heard a throat clearing that meant he was about to say something difficult. “Sis, are you and Nick keeping safe?”
Almost choking up, I swallowed hard and said, “We’re fine, little brother, but we need your help. Stay in touch, okay?”
The sun had dropped behind the Marin Hills while I was on the phone, causing the light to fade and deepening the chill in the air. Nick had been strolling the dock while I talked to Harry. When he saw that I’d finished the call, he turned and walked back to me.
“Found something.” He held his hand out to me, palm up. There it was. A spent bullet.
“Where was it?” I asked.
“Stuck in a piling.” He raised his brows in a question. “Want to put it in that handy-dandy kit you carry around?”
“Yes, but not here. I know it looks like there’s no one around, but I feel exposed and vulnerable. Let’s go back to Buck’s yacht. I’ll fill you in on Harry’s report on the way.”
Down below, the ducted heating system in Buck’s yacht kept us cozy as we sat in the main saloon, sipping wine in silence. The bullet was tucked away in my forensic kit.
I finally heard back from Kass, who called from Sacramento where he’d been tied up in court all day testifying in the Sawyer County change-of-venue case. I filled him in about the auction invitation and sent him the photo of Liliana.
“Have you forwarded this photo to anyone at TPD?” he asked.
“Not yet. Nick and I thought it would be best to run it by you first.”
“I understand,” Kass said. “I’ll be back in Timbergate tomorrow morning. I’ll get on this right away.” He paused. “I’ll also run it by the SFPD and the Marin County Sheriff’s Office. See if they’ll at least open a file. Keep in mind, she’d most likely be classified as a runaway, since she looks happy and unharmed.”
“But there’s no proof of when it was taken. Maybe her situation is different now. Her brother knew something that got him gravely wounded. I’m convinced it’s all part of the same crime.”
“I agree. This should help me justify putting more people on the Ferrera case. We’ll get to work identifying who sent the auction invitation and the photo.”
“There’s more.” I told him that Harry still hoped to get access to the Ferreras’ laptop. “It’s been at least a week since the Ferreras turned it over to your department.”
“Why does your brother want it?”
“He has some friends with superior hacking skills who are willing to help out.”
“Give me your brother’s number. Tell him I’ll be in touch.”
I gave him Harry’s cell number. Kass also agreed to contact the Horta police right away, but couldn’t offer any assurance there. He implied that it would require a lot of tact on his part to convince them to question Catia further about Liliana’s social life without sounding critical of their methods. When I mentioned finding a bullet, and the likelihood that its target was a young man seen running from Prine and Carver’s yacht, Kass was more responsive.
“I have a late meeting down here in Sac tonight, but I’ll head back to Timbergate first thing tomorrow. For now, send a few photos of that bullet to my phone. Bring the actual bullet to me as soon as you’re back in town. We’ll compare it with the one taken from the missing girl’s brother.”
I assured him that was exactly what I had in mind and reminded him that we were still waiting to hear about what the security cameras on Carver’s office building had recorded. Kass said he’d follow up on that, too, when he got back to Timbergate.
The evening wore on with Nick and me lost in thought. As each quarter hour passed, the ticking of the wall clock grew louder and more relentless. To break the silence, I opened my laptop and tuned to the Fado music station I had created on Pandora. Even without understanding the Portuguese lyrics, I found that the evocative voices of the female vocalists, combined with the soulful rhythms of Portuguese guitar, helped sooth my fraying nerves. I listened differently, proud of my Portuguese heritage, knowing that Fado was appreciated by music icons like Jagger and Prince.
Nick had hoped for an update from Buck about whether Nick’s RSVP had been approved for the Sunday night auction, but as the hours slipped by, it seemed unlikely we’d hear anything before bedtime.
At eleven o’clock, Nick said, “What do you think? Shall we try to sleep?”
“Might as well.”
Saturday morning, I woke to the harbor’s usual salute to the senses: the crying of gulls, the pungent smell of seawater, and the bright morning sunlight striking my face through a porthole in the forward berth. The aroma of coffee confirmed that Nick had been up at least long enough to start a pot brewing.
“Do I hear signs of life?” he called.
“Think so,” I mumbled.
“Peanut butter toast?”
“Sounds good.”
After making a pit stop in the head, I brushed my teeth and ran a comb through my hair. Then I pulled on jeans and a long-sleeved polo shirt and joined Nick in the main saloon.
“Coffee smells good.” I took the cup he offered. “Been up long?”
“Since six.”
I glanced at the clock. “Seven now. What have you been doing?”
“Thinking about our day.” He spread peanut butter and honey on toast and brought it to the table where I sat. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Thanks.” I reached for a slice. “I’m anxious to hear your thoughts about the weekend.”
Nick scooted next to me on the bench seat and placed a page of notes on the table. “These are in no particular order. I thought we’d use your left-brain approach to sort them out.”
I scanned his list. It was long. And disheartening. There was so much we wanted to know. Was Seashell moored somewhere in the Bay Area? Was Liliana on the superyacht? If so, did she still believe she would be allowed to leave of her own free will? Had she tried to contact the person she thought was an online boyfriend named Francisco?
Gus Barba and Kiri D’Costa were on the list. Originally, Nick and I wanted to know if Paulo had come to California seeking Gus’s help finding Liliana. Now we had to determine whether Gus was mixed up with whatever Carver and Prine were involved in. Was Kiri involved, too, and if not, was she in danger? Or were they both innocent? Just a young couple in a romantic relationship?
I pointed to where Nick had made a note about Liliana’s secret email account. “I’ve pretty much given up hope on this. Think how long Harry’s been trying.”
“I have to agree. Harry’s waited at least a week for the TPD to release the family’s laptop.” Nick looked at me with concern. “Even if he had it, there’s no guarantee it would help.”
“I know it’s not likely. So far, that photo of Liliana modeling with the sculpture is the most concrete evidence we have.”
“And we’ve been told it doesn’t necessarily prove a crime,” Nick said.
I shoved the rest of my toast aside. “But we do have Kass curious about the bullet you found. I think I’ve convinced him the shooter was on Carver’s yacht. And he has evidence that Paulo was somewhere near Carver’s office building close to the time of that shooting.”
“The man definitely looks like a potential suspect.” Nick underlined Carver’s name.
“And now Kass is interested enough to want to compare the bullets. What we don’t know is where Prine fits in.” I went to the galley for a coffee refill.
“We have today and tomorrow to figure that out.”
“We have to help Kass classify this as more than a runaway teenage girl. Do you realize it’s been a full month since she disappeared and three weeks since Paulo set out to find her?”
“But only two and a half weeks since he ended up at TMC.” Nick held out his cup for a top-off. “Too bad we can’t account for his five days in between.”
“If only we could know what happened during that time.” I sat next to Nick, wanting the comfort of being close. “Sometimes it seems all we have are loose ends and false leads.”
Nick wrapped his arm around my shoulders, giving me a little shake. “Come on, you’re the gal who never gives up. Where do you want to start?”
“Isn’t today when Kass was going to do the DNA analysis on the blood I collected last weekend?”
“Right, but we still need a solid reason to think it’s connected to the Ferrera case.”
“That wounded man is connected to the yacht that Carver and Prine own. And so is Kiri D’Costa, who’s connected to Gus Barba.”
“I’ll try to arrange to meet up with Gus today,” Nick said.
“Are you going to ask Buck if he’s arranged for us to attend that auction?”
“That’s on my list, but it won’t be both of us,” Nick said. “If Buck manages to make it happen, it’ll just me. I thought I’d made that clear. “
“If that’s how it is, I won’t be far away.”
“I’d like to argue that, but I know better,” Nick said. “Kass told you he’d be back in Timbergate early today. Let’s hope his people or Harry’s will be able to determine where that auction flyer originated.”
“I hate to be a wet blanket when we’re trying to stay positive, but I doubt TPD has access to the kind of cyber-forensic expertise that would require.”
Nick nodded. “Probably not, but maybe Kass can enlist help. What about the FBI office in Sac?”
“He could try. The photos I took of the bullet you found, and the photo of Liliana modeling for the auction should give him some leverage, don’t you think?”
“It should. The Horta police can confirm Liliana’s identity. If I’m right, the fact that this incident might involve cybercrime could qualify it for an FBI investigation. But still, the knee-jerk reaction is going to be that Liliana is a runaway.”
“I think Kass is beyond that now,” I said. “Liliana’s brother is close to dying from a gunshot wound in Kass’s town, his jurisdiction.”
Nick stood and picked up our breakfast plates. “It’s up to Kass whether he contacts the FBI. You and I need to focus on what we can do.” He put the plates in the sink and brought the coffee pot to the table. “What’s the latest on the brother’s medical status?”
“I’m about to find out.” I checked the time. “Almost eight. Cleo’s probably awake. I’m calling her now.”
Cleo picked up after several rings. I asked her about Paulo Ferrera.
“We’re losing him, Aimee.”