Davies’s voice had an echo chasing it and was hard to hear. “I was waiting down at Noyo and saw your warden come through. A couple of the guys watching for me picked up on her, instead. One might have followed her.”
“Watching for you?”
“Yeah, that’s right. They’ve been on me.” Marquez heard the thrum of the boat engine, waves hitting the bow. “I’m heading south. Can you meet me at Albion?”
“That’s as far as I go tonight.”
“I’ll be waiting there.”
Marquez started south on Highway 1 and called Petersen. “I talked to him and he says you might have been followed out of Noyo. Where are you now?”
“At the homeless shelter in Fort Bragg. I got ahold of Peggy and dropped the abalone off with her. Hey, John, hang on a minute.”
“You see somebody?”
“I don’t know, maybe, hang on, um, yeah, could be, but I don’t know. I’m going to make a turn here.” He heard a faint squeal of brakes, and knew she wasn’t going to say anything until she had gone several blocks. He could picture her face, her truck moving slowly past the old buildings, the street empty at this hour. It was more than a minute and then she said softly, “Could be.”
“Head down the highway and we’ll trap them. I’ll drop in behind them.”
“How far away are you?”
“Almost to Albion.”
“All right, I’m on my way.”
“Let’s keep the line open.”
They kept talking and she lost track of the car as she left Fort Bragg. Now, she said nothing was behind her for a couple of miles.
“I’m slowing down,” she said. “You must be close.”
“I’m here, I see Davies’s van. I’m going to park and find him.”
Marquez found Davies sitting on his haunches on the moonlit gravel between two trailered boats, smoking a cigarette. Albion Harbor was empty and quiet, the dock dark, and Marquez had a good view of the access road and a view of the highway. Petersen would click her brights once as she crossed the bridge.
“The devil always gets what he wants,” Davies said. “He knows our weaknesses.”
“Good for him. How do you know you’re being followed?”
“When they impounded my boat they buried something in it at the Coast Guard base. But I can’t find it.”
“Who did?”
“The Federal government.”
“Why not the county detectives? Why the Feds?”
“I’ve been in their shit and they know it.”
“You’ve been in the Feds’ shit?”
“Yes, sir, and they want to keep watching me. I think they’re after your man.”
Marquez stopped on that. Davies had to have come to that on his own because there wouldn’t be anybody telling him. There wasn’t anyone in law enforcement associated with this who’d say a thing to Davies about Kline.
“Federal agents came down and questioned me after Ruter let me go. They were waiting when I picked up my boat. They questioned me about Stocker and Han. I guess they thought I had more dealings with that pair than I did.”
The orange glow of the cigarette dropped to the gravel and Marquez could only make out part of Davies’s face. He could see the shine of his eyes as Davies stood.
“They asked about Guyanno. They want to know what I’ve seen out on the water, whether I’d seen any illegal abalone sales.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I lied to them.” Davies was silent a long minute, then shifted his stance on the gravel, facing Marquez. “You’re a good man, Lieutenant. No doubt about whose side you’re on, but there’s a real firefight coming.”
Marquez had known men like Davies before. They could be harsh and discriminating in their judgment of others, but if they told themselves you shared a worldview or values similar to theirs, then you were not only safe from their violence but protected by it.
“What did you want to tell me tonight?”
“I’m going to lay some stuff on you; I’ve got a confession to make, but it involves some lying I’ve done to you, too. I’m ashamed of that but it’s been for your own good. Truth is I killed Ray Stocker, but not the way anyone thinks. I was selling to these same poachers trying to get close to them. I’d been dealing with a man named Carlo. I sold to him three times and I’ve got the money for you. Each time I’d meet him on the side of a road. We’d talk by cell phone and the deals would go down real fast after he’d park. I knew that’s how he was handling Stocker, too, so I did something to Stocker that was wrong and put him in jeopardy. Have you done things you regret later even though you thought you were doing the right thing?”
“You’ve got a new confession every time we meet.”
“This is the real deal.”
After Ruter had surprised him with the information on Davies’s navy record, Marquez had done a complete around the world on Davies, gone through NCIC and California Law Enforcement Telecommunication System, though he’d never made inquiries with the navy. He hadn’t found any record of arrests other than a disturbing the peace five years ago and the Guyanno bar incident with Stocker. He must not have been arrested for the flag burning.
“You put him in jeopardy?”
“Yeah, I broke into Stocker’s truck and pulled a cooler out of the back, cleaned out most of the abalone, left it two deep and filled the rest with ice. See, they were doing deals where they’d hand over the coolers just like I was and get paid and usually they’d come back to drink at Hadrian’s. I’d been following them and couldn’t get too close, but I’d been doing it myself. I didn’t know they were taking so much ab though. That part I didn’t know, but you can understand why I couldn’t tell you. You’d have come down on me, but I’ve saved all the money, Lieutenant. I’ve got it hidden away to give you. Anyway, they’d been building up ab and I knew they were close to doing a deal, so I looked for an opportunity and took it when it came.”
“You set him up and now you’re getting pangs of conscience?”
“I thought I was helping you, but I didn’t have any idea they’d get wasted. That changed the whole outlook.”
Marquez took the conversation back to setting up Stocker and Han. He listened closely now. The short sale had gone down four days before they were killed. Davies had jimmied the door on Stocker’s truck while it was parked at a bar. Inside were four coolers packed with abalone. He’d bogused two of them.
“I’m gaining their trust,” Davies said.
“The big man. He knows I want to do more work.”
“He’s got a purpose for you.”
“I haven’t forgotten what side I’m on, Lieutenant. I’ve just messed up, that’s all.”
“You don’t know what kind of mistake you’re making. Maybe we ought to lock you up in a cell for a week. Take your confession and figure out charges.”
Davies acted like he hadn’t heard. “When I went up to check on Stocker and Han that morning at Guyanno Creek I knew something had happened because they hadn’t been around for a couple of days. I wish I’d come clean with you that day.”
“You should have.”
“You know, that Han bought me drinks one night. He wasn’t the asshole Stocker was. He didn’t talk up his story too much.”
“You’re not going to bring them back.”
“It’s the devil getting his way.”
“Lose the devil talk. If you’re telling me you’ve compromised yourself for these people, then tell me everything you’ve done to try to get close to them. But either way, and I’ve said this to you before, you don’t belong anywhere around this. Go visit relatives in the Midwest, sail your boat around the world, but get out of here.”
“I was expecting more from you tonight, Lieutenant. You’ve disappointed me, man.”
Marquez didn’t know exactly what Davies meant. “You’re telling me you’re trying to avoid people you think are Federal agents and asking my help?” Marquez pulled his badge. “Why do you think I carry this?”
“I can get you to them, Lieutenant. The Feds know it and they don’t want it to happen.”
“If they didn’t, they’d pick you up.” Marquez saw Petersen’s truck go past on the highway. He watched Davies light another cigarette and wondered if anything he said could be trusted.
“I guess I don’t carry any weight around here. I’ll see you, it’s time to go.”
Marquez watched him get on his boat and heard the engines fire. He talked to Petersen, told her he’d follow her back to Bragg, running a mile behind her in case she got picked up again.
“What does Davies want from us?” she asked.
“He wants redemption, but not the kind we can give. He needs to sit in a booth and talk to a priest.”