Chapter 50

The icy water closed over her head as her skirt and arms flew upward, slowing her descent into the dark. She flailed as the salt water rushed into her mouth and nose. Bursting through the surface, spluttering and choking, Laurie rose and fell with the swells. Her vision blurry, she glimpsed Daniel’s boat moving away as a white life ring spun through the air and splashed down a few feet from her.

Laurie’s chest ached and her limbs grew heavy as the chill soaked through her body. She paddled toward the floating object as the waves drew it further out. God, help.

She pushed again, commanding her shaking legs to plow through the freezing water. The rollers from the boat’s wake hit her in the face, sending more water into her nose and mouth. It also pushed the life preserver toward her. Laurie gulped air as she lunged, her numb fingers barely closing around a rope dragging alongside it.

Locking her arms around the floating ring, Laurie panted as the swells lifted her. The rocky shore loomed nearby. She kicked with her feet, her shoes dragging against the water.

Treading with her legs and flailing with one arm, she pressed herself toward the shore, the waves alternately pushing her forward and sucking her back. Her feet scraped against the rocks and she forced herself up onto her knees, the wind cutting through her wet clothes.

Daniel hovered at the railing, heart racing, until Laurie reached for the life ring. With a lump in his throat, he dashed back into the wheelhouse and gunned the engine. He gripped the controls to steady himself, his legs threatening to give way. I don’t care what happens to me, God, but help Laurie get away.

Daniel dragged a hand over his face. My own grandfather? A hole opened in Daniel’s chest, threatening to consume him. Granddad had never once given him reason to doubt, but the evidence lay under Daniel’s feet.

He steered for the bay, entering the gentler waters of the harbor, the cutter growing steadily closer. He sucked in a deep breath and cut the engine. As the boat drifted, Daniel stepped from the wheelhouse, his gaze skirting the harbor. The sun sat perched atop the foothills, sending its radiance over the town he’d spent so many years avoiding. Daniel’s shoulders sagged, a numbing cold creeping through his body. He’d arrived in Port Angeles with every intent of returning to Seattle. Now the idea settled in his gut like a stone.

The ship finished its approach, crew at the ready. Three sheriff’s deputies stood ready, tommy guns at attention.

Daniel lifted his hands, his chest squeezing until he could scarcely take a breath. “I’m unarmed.”

A familiar figure joined the others on the deck, equipped with a handgun and a self-satisfied smile. “Daniel Shepherd, fancy meeting you out here.” Samuel Brown shoved back his hat until Daniel could see his glittering cat-like eyes. “And to think, Laurie Burke assured me you weren’t a rumrunner. She does seem to have a blind spot when it comes to you.”

Daniel kept his hands in the air, his eyes trained on the deputies and their rifles.

As the ship pulled alongside, Brown and the deputies boarded, faces grim. Samuel gestured to the men with the barrel of his gun. “Go take a look below.”

Daniel scowled as the men went down the ladder. “Why bother? You think you already know what’s down there.”

Samuel smirked. “Maybe I just wanted a minute alone with my suspect. Give you a chance to plead for mercy.”

Daniel gritted his teeth. “Unlikely.”

Brown pressed the gun against the Daniel’s side. “Laurie Burke showed up at my house today. Such a pleasant evening . . . I like to hear women beg, don’t you, Shepherd?”

Daniel squeezed his fingers into a fist. “I think you’d better watch what you say.”

“Unfortunately, that’s all she would do. Too bad. You might have gotten a pass otherwise.” He shrugged. “But probably not.”

“Laurie would never be interested in a degenerate slime-sucker like you,” Daniel growled.

Brown’s arm shot upward, striking Daniel in the face with the barrel of the gun.

Daniel staggered backward, instinctively grabbing for the agent’s arm. An ear-splitting pop sounded in his ear as searing pain tore through his shoulder. Daniel crashed against the rail, sliding onto the deck.

Brown stood over him, a grin snaking its way across his face. “Attacking a federal agent? Not a smart move.”

Laurie pulled herself from the water, teeth chattering so hard her jaw ached. Wrapping her arms around her body, she stumbled across the rocks, traversing the spit on rubbery legs. Topping the berm, she scanned the harbor.

The Coast Guard vessel bobbed alongside Daniel’s boat, men with guns roaming the decks. One individual stood out from the others, the familiar gray fedora sending a shudder through Laurie’s body.

Tears stung her eyes as she stumbled down the spit and straight into the arms of two fishermen.

“Agent Brown, I think you ought to see this.” The deputy’s voice wafted up from the hatch.

Daniel lay still, his hand clamped against the oozing wound in his shoulder. Fingers of pain spread through his arms and chest until even drawing a full breath became a challenge.

A calculating smile spread across Brown’s face as the uniformed man began hoisting crates onto the deck. “Not a rumrunner, eh? I suppose you’re going to claim that those bottles don’t belong to you. Maybe they just found their way into your hold by accident.”

Daniel gripped his shoulder, laying his head on the wet boards. What will this do to Laurie?

“Talk to me, Shepherd. Who’s the brains of this operation, because it obviously isn’t you?” Samuel chuckled as he crouched down beside him. “My colleagues at Freshwater Cove said the boat there came in clean. What do you know about that? Are you working with those hooligans?”

“No.” Daniel’s thoughts jumbled, images of his grandfather, Laurie, and Johnny swimming in the foggy haze of his mind. He struggled up to a sitting position, wiping the sweat from his face with his forearm. “No, I work alone. I’ve been bringing whiskey into Port Angeles for months—ever since I arrived here. I’m the one you want.”

Brown raised his gun, pointing it at Daniel’s face. “And that’s exactly what I had hoped you would say.”

Laurie huddled in a blanket, in front of Amelia’s fireplace. “I don’t understand it. Why would they arrest Daniel? We threw the liquor overboard.”

Amelia poured a second steaming mug of tea and forced it into Laurie’s hand.

Johnny shook his head. “Mr. Simon from the grocery store said Brown found cases of liquor on board. He saw them unloading the crates onto the dock.”

“I’m telling you­—we threw them over the side.” Laurie shivered, tea sloshing onto her fingertips.

Johnny sat down in the rocking chair, kicking his lanky legs out in front of him. “It couldn’t have been our stuff, anyhow. We always dump the boxes—we wrap the bottles in newspaper and stick them in bags.”

Amelia stood over her friend and gestured to Laurie’s cup. “Drink!” She turned to Johnny. “Could Daniel be running booze, too?”

“No way.” Johnny bounced his knee, the corners of his mouth pulling toward his chin. “But . . . ” He chewed on his lower lip. “The boat belongs to his grandfather.”

Laurie stopped mid-sip, the hot liquid scalding down her tongue as his words took hold. “Mr. Larson? Do you think they could be his?”

“I suppose, but it doesn’t seem likely.” Johnny situated another log on the fire. “Likely or no, it sounds like Daniel is in a boat-load of trouble.”

The cot squeaked as Daniel collapsed across it, his shoulder bandaged and throbbing. The day dragged at him like an anchor. Sitting in jail was the least of his troubles. He laid his head back and covered his face with his good arm, trying not to think about Laurie.

Brown stood outside the bars as the metal door slid shut. He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his pinstriped trousers. “Won’t Laurie Burke be pleased? She saved her brother and freed herself of a villainous wretch, all in one fell swoop. I guess maybe she is worthy of my affections after all.”

Daniel mentally recited the periodic table to keep himself from rising to Brown’s taunts, but he doubted the chemical reaction churning in his gut would be contained for long.

“In fact, I think I’ll go over and see her. Rumor has it she took an early swim in the harbor this morning. Seems like an odd choice of activities. Maybe I’ll ask her about it over dinner.”

Daniel tried to struggle upright but slumped back against the bed, his stomach threatening to turn against him as well. He dug his fingers into the thin mattress. He hadn’t stepped in Brown’s trap; he’d jumped in with both feet. “Leave her out of this. I told you, I work alone. I’m the one you want.”

Brown laughed, the sound echoing through the cellblock. “Oh, Daniel, that’s rich. Haven’t you figured it out yet?” He lowered his voice until it seemed to float like a dark fog through the room. “She’s the one I want.”

Laurie tucked the ends of her hair under her cloche as she followed Johnny into the drugstore. Her heart pounded so loud, it threatened to draw the attention of the customers. Marcie buzzed around the soda fountain likely filling orders for both drinks and gossip.

Laurie scanned the store for Mr. Larson. She caught Marcie scampering between the coffeepot and the icebox. “Where is Mr. Larson? We need to speak to him.”

Marcie looked up, eyes red and teary. “Oh, Laurie. I wish I knew. I have no idea what’s going on. And what I do know, I don’t understand.”

Laurie touched her brother’s arm. “Maybe he’s gone to see Daniel.”

Johnny’s brows furrowed. “Maybe he’s skipped town.”

Laurie pulled off her hat and darted a quick glance at Marcie. The girl balanced a soda in each hand, hurrying to the far end of the marble counter.

Laurie leaned close to her brother’s ear. “Follow me.”

She ducked behind the pharmacy counter and through the back storeroom, Johnny on her heels. Laurie tiptoed partway down the stairs to the cellar, her heart sinking at the inky blackness. “He’s not here.”

Johnny gripped the stair rail. “Let’s try Daniel’s apartment.” He continued out the back door into the alley, climbing the steps to the upper-story apartments.

Laurie rushed after him, stopping on the landing. The door to Daniel’s apartment stood ajar.

Mr. Larson glanced up from Daniel’s sofa. Craggy lines crossed his face, his hair sticking out from under his cap, rumpled and spiky. “Thank God, it’s you, Laurie. You’ve got to tell me what’s happening. Marty­—Sheriff Martinson—says that Daniel’s been arrested.” The old man pressed his hand to his forehead as he spoke. “He said the boat was full of booze and Daniel attacked the federal agent. Do you know anything about this?”

Laurie swallowed against the lump growing in her throat. “I was on the boat with him, Mr. Larson. He wasn’t hauling whiskey—” She caught herself, casting an anxious glance at Johnny. “Well, it’s a long story. But he didn’t know about those crates, I’m sure of it.” She shoved her hands deep in her coat pockets. “Mr. Larson, you need to tell me the truth—are you running liquor?”

His jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious. I haven’t taken that boat out in over a year. The only time it’s been out was when Daniel and Johnny went fishing a few months back.” He glared at Johnny. “I could be asking you the same question, young man. I heard some interesting rumors about you this morning, too. And I know you’re the one who blackened my grandson’s eye.”

A ripple of surprise shot through Laurie.

Johnny held up his hands. “I didn’t put the whiskey on that boat.” He pulled off his cap and ran his hand through his hair. “Well, like Laurie said, not that whiskey.”

Mr. Larson’s mouth pinched. “I think you two had better start at the beginning.”

The three of them moved to Daniel’s table by the front window and Laurie and Johnny filled Mr. Larson in on the night’s activities. As they came to a close, Daniel’s grandfather stroked his gray moustache in stunned silence.

Laurie sat on her hands to keep herself from picking at her fingernails. “So, you can see why we thought the whiskey might be yours.”

Mr. Larson shook his head, a ragged sigh escaping his lips. “If it wasn’t mine and it wasn’t Daniel’s—who in blazes put it there?”

Laurie paced to the window, staring out across the downtown streets and to the water beyond. “And why was Samuel on the Coast Guard ship instead of waiting at Freshwater Bay like he’d planned?”

Johnny sat up. “When we rowed up to the beach, Jerry said something about Brown having bigger fish to fry.”

Laurie turned and faced him, a tremor running through her heart. “Bigger fish—like Daniel?”

Laurie perched on the wooden chair, staring across Sherriff Martinson’s large desk.

“Miles, your grandson is a fool.” Sheriff Martinson leaned back in his swivel chair, kicking one foot up on his desk.

Mr. Larson paced the floor, running his hand across his whiskery chin. “It’s a misunderstanding. He must have thought the booze was mine, Marty. He’s not involved.”

“I’m sorry, but that just isn’t good enough. The first time I sympathized. Twice?” Martinson shook his head.

Laurie clutched her pocketbook. “Samuel Brown arranged this in some way. He’s been aiming for Daniel since the beginning. I wouldn’t put it past him to plant that whiskey as a way of framing him.”

Martinson frowned. “Those are pretty big accusations, Miss Burke.”

Daniel’s grandfather laid his hands on the table, palms up. “Marty, you know I wouldn’t waste your time if we weren’t serious.”

“Miles, I’d like to help you—that Brown is a cad. But Daniel signed a written confession. My hands are tied.”

Laurie shifted in her chair. “What would it take to untie them?”

Martinson’s brows arched. “I don’t work that way.”

“No, I don’t mean­ . . . ” She shook her head. “I mean, what if Brown confessed to planting the evidence?”

“Well, obviously, that would change things. But that hardly seems likely, does it?”

A rush of cold swept over Laurie, almost as if she had plunged back into the icy water of the Strait. Could she finagle a confession from Samuel?

She clamped her fingers on the edge of the desk and stood. “If that’s what it will take—I will get it.”