The Harbor

Twenty-Nine

"Get down here." Bruce Young's voice was intense but under control on the other end of the phone. "Someone just torched your boat. My boat."

J.B. had heard the explosion and was halfway out of bed. "Anyone hurt?"

"No. The marine patrol and local cops are already here. They think it was a flash-bang stun grenade. A lot of noise and light."

Zoe, wide awake, held the blanket up to her chin as she sat up, whether because she was cold or had just come to her senses and realized where she'd spent the night, J.B. didn't know. "Is that Bruce? What's he saying? What was that explosion?"

"McGrath? You there?" "I'm here. Flash-bangs are intended to cause confusion and disorientation, not damage-" "Yeah, so maybe that was the point."

J.B. rolled out of bed. He was stark naked and cold and had meant to spend a gray, drizzly morning in bed with a troubled hothead of a woman he didn't know if he'd ever get enough of.

He saw that her bandage hadn't come off her wrist during the night. There was no sign of fresh bleeding. She was watching him impatiently, as if she should be the one talking to Bruce. J.B. thought of last night. Lovemaking in the attic. Dinner. More lovemaking.

Life could be good. Definitely. "McGrath-" "I'm on my way." He hung up, and Zoe frowned at him. "Someone tossed a flash-bang into your boat?" He nodded. "I'm meeting Bruce on the docks." "I'm coming with you." Still holding the covers in place, she kicked her legs off the side of the bed and reached onto the floor for her clothes. After their lovemaking in the attic, she'd showered and put on fresh clothes. They hadn't lasted, J.B. remembered. He'd carried her up here and removed them piece by piece.

She found her bra and shirt. Her curls were tousled, her skin luminous, the blue flecks in her eyes standing out against the gray early dawn light.

J.B. had on his pants and boat shoes and headed forthe door, his shirt in one hand, his gun and holster in the other. "I'm not waiting. Meet me down at the docks."

He saw the flash of her rose tattoo as she threw back the covers and reached for her pants. His chest muscles seemed to clamp down on his lungs and heart, constricting his breathing, and it was as if every moment of last night came at him as a whole.

It had been good, but insane.

He slipped out into the hall. Just as well he had a grenade explosion to deal with.

No one could ever say Olivia West was haunting the place. If she were, she'd have flung him onto the cliffs or struck him with a bolt of lightning before the night was over.

Maybe that was what the boat was. Maybe her aim was just off.

By the time he reached his Jeep, he was normal again. Making love to Zoe had been natural, perfect, what they both wanted. No need to feel guilty or worry about ghosts or any of it. His mind was focused, and he concentrated on the task at hand. Get to the docks. Talk to Bruce. Talk to law enforcement. Most likely he'd be explaining himself to the Boston FBI field office before the day was out. They covered Maine. They wouldn't like grenade explosions of any kind.

The dampness penetrated his shirt and jacket. He could taste salt on the drizzle. It was cold out, the air still and very quiet.

A marine patrol boat was down by the docks. Police and fire truck lights penetrated the gloom. It was a low ceiling, not that foggy-which wouldn't last. There was more fog and rain coming.

As he climbed into his Jeep, Zoe ran out of the house barefoot, carrying her shoes, and jumped in next to him. "Luckily all my clothes were right where you threw them."

"So were mine."

As he drove, she pulled on socks over her painted toes, then tucked her feet into her sneakers and tied them. Just over a week ago, he'd had to refer to a map to get here, and when he'd driven down Main Street, he'd thought…how quaint. He'd found the perfect place to do nothing for a couple of weeks. Boat, walk, look at gravestones, eat lobster and blueberry pie and let his demons depart out of sheer boredom, out of disgust with the cloying charm and beauty of Goose Harbor, Maine.

One murder in thirty years. J.B. couldn't pretend it wasn't part of what had drawn him here.

"A grenade explosion will bring on the feds," Zoe said. "Bruce must have told the police by now that you rented the boat. They'll love that. I worked with marine patrol on a boat explosion once. A guy tried to off his wife by blowing up his boat with her in it. Wanted to make it look like an accident."

"She survived?"

"Yes. Not a happy woman."

J.B. parked next to Christina's café. State and local police cars and a couple of fire engines had pulled in as close to the docks and his boat as they could get without going into the water themselves. If it'd been a destructive grenade of any kind, the entire area could have caught fire-the boats, the docks, the buildings. Bruce Young was standing by himself a few yards from a group of cops, his big arms crossed on his chest as he grimly surveyed the scene.

Zoe got out slowly, her Maine cop eyes taking in who all was down at the waterfront. She'd know people, names. J.B. didn't. He met her in front of his Jeep. Bruce spotted them and waved, and they walked down to the dock. He was still in the parking lot-the police weren't letting anyone on the docks.

"How do you like this?" he asked. "I was in my truck on my way here when-boom! Jesus, it scared the hell out of me."

Zoe shoved her hands into the pockets of her fleece vest. "You called it in?"

He shook his head. "Your sister did."

"Christina? She's here?"

"Making muffins for us rise-at-dawn types." But Bruce obviously didn't like it, either. "The cops are in with her now."

Zoe absorbed his words with a small, tense nod. "She's okay? Did she see anything?"

"She's fine, Zoe. I don't know what she saw. I haven't talked to her." He glanced at the cluster of law enforcement officers, the stretch of yellow police tape, and sighed heavily. "You don't think these guys are telling me anything, do you?"

J.B. noticed Donna Jacobs and what he guessed was a state detective exiting the café. "What about Kyle Castellane?" he asked Bruce. "Was he in his apartment?"

Bruce shook his head. "No idea."

Jacobs joined them, quickly explaining that she had no information on who'd tossed the flasher in the boat or why. "We're still looking for Teddy Shelton. Maybe he can help us." She glanced at J.B. "FBI and ATF are on their way. I told them I've got a fed here."

"I'm on vacation."

"Yeah. That's what I told them." She turned to Zoe, and J.B. thought her expression softened slightly-but not much. "Talk to your sister. She can fill you in on some things. I just don't have the time."

She didn't wait for an answer.

Zoe glanced at J.B., then Bruce. "You two want to come with me?"

Bruce rubbed a big palm over the top of his head and heaved another sigh. "Nah. I want to see about my boat. Geez, it was an eyesore on a good day." He turned and gazed out at the harbor, the horizon all gray now, sky and sea indistinguishable. "Weather sucks. Hey, if I learn anything, I'll let you know, okay?"

J.B. nodded. "I'm sorry about the boat."

"So long as it wasn't some scumbag who followed you to town. If that's the case, we won't be letting any more vacationing cops in town, fed or otherwise." But his stab at humor didn't last. "I bet it's that dumbass Teddy Shelton. I gave the guy a break, and this is what I get. A torched boat. What if a spark'd touched off a fire? The boats in close like this, you'd get a chain reaction, they'd all go up in flames. It'd be my boat that started it, a guy I helped. I'd have to leave town."

Zoe put out a hand toward him. "Bruce-"

He gave a curt wave. "Forget it. Go talk to Christina."

They found her behind her counter. A half-dozen lobstermen had gathered at the tables by the harbor-front windows to drink coffee and watch the show. There was no teasing this morning.

Without a word, Christina filled three mugs with coffee, set them on a tray and carried them to a table away from the lobstermen. She pulled out a chair and sat down, then J.B. and Zoe did likewise.

Christina looked drawn and tired, but her hands were steady as she held her mug and stared at her steaming coffee. "Do you ever feel like bad things start happening and they just keep happening, and there's nothing you can do to stop them? You don't want to be along for the ride, but there you are. And there's just nothing you can do."

Zoe nodded. "I've felt that way a lot this past year."

Her sister bit off an angry sigh. "I hate being a whiner."

"What happened this morning?" J.B. asked.

"I was in here working. I heard Kyle go out, and then I looked up and there was this awful explosion and the harbor was on fire. That's what it looked like. It was still dark, that gray light you get just before dawn. I didn't even know it was your boat." She paused, but neither

J.B. nor Zoe interrupted her. "I ran out-I don't know why. I wasn't thinking." She stopped again, blinking back tears, and she had to set her mug down. "Kyle's BMW careered right at me. I thought it was going to run me over."

Zoe said nothing, but J.B. was becoming more aware of her reactions, her defenses. She was shaken by what her sister had said. He added sugar into his coffee. Normally he drank it black, but having a stun grenade explode in front of her must have made Christina heavy-handed with the coffee measure. It was almost too strong to drink.

When she didn't go on, J.B. prodded her. "Did you see the driver?"

She shook her head. She was still very pale, her stark expression a contrast to her pretty, ruffly clothes. "I think I was a little blinded by the explosion. I-I couldn't see much of anything except that car coming at me."

"What about Kyle?" Zoe asked quietly.

"I don't-" She turned away, still fighting her tears. "I didn't see him. It must have been him behind the wheel, but I can't say for sure. I don't know what happened to him. The police-the police want to talk to him." She sucked in an audible breath, let it out in a whoosh, as if she were trying to stave off a panic attack, keep fear and hysteria from overwhelming her. "We had a fight last night. Otherwise he'd have been down here helping me out. Most mornings he helps early on, so I don't have to hire a waitress or run myself ragged."

Zoe touched her sister's shoulder. "Chris, it's not your fault-"

She sniffled, nodded. Her hand was shaking now as she picked up her mug. She took the smallest of sips.

J.B. could feel the strong coffee, even with the sugar, burning in his stomach. He thought about Kyle Castel-lane and Teddy Shelton. Luke. Stick Monroe. These women's dead father. A police officer killed in the line of duty. "You and Kyle argued about him sneaking into your great-aunt's attic?"

"And other things. We covered a lot of ground." She seemed embarrassed, her emotional reserve as natural and intractable as her sister's. "He was such a jerk. He said he never asked for Zoe to rescue him."

Zoe hadn't touched her own coffee, and J.B. thought she looked ragged, cold, so different from last night. But she'd buttoned down her emotions. She was in control. "Did you two talk about Luke's fear that Kyle was involved in Dad's murder?"

"He thinks we're out to blame it on an outsider. Why not his family? Why not him?" Chris took in a sharp breath, her lingering distress over their argument evident. "They're not from Goose Harbor, so we locals will turn anything we can on its head and use it against them. He says that's why his father said what he did. He's worried we'll all somehow find a way to pin everything on Kyle. And Kyle says if not him, his father."

Zoe took a sip of coffee, set it down and dumped in both sugar and milk. "Chris, you know the police will follow the facts and the evidence. No one's out to pin the blame on anyone. I'm sorry Kyle and Luke feel-"

Her sister snorted. "They're both so selfish. This isn't about them! They're just worried about their own skins. They don't care that Dad's dead. They don't care that his murderer is still out there-he could kill again, he could get away with what he did!" She was furious now, shocked and frightened, but J.B. could feel her determination. "I know-oh, Zoe, now I know what you felt like last fall. I was in such a state of denial. I just wanted all this to go away. It won't."

"Chris, we don't know that any of this is connected to Dad."

"It is."

Zoe didn't argue with her. "Luke made his deal with the devil when he hired Teddy Shelton. The police will talk to him and get to the bottom of it. He could be covering up nothing, or he could have real information."

"I know. We have to be patient." Christina smiled, self-conscious. "I seem to recall people telling you that a lot last year."

"We'll get through it, Chris," Zoe said.

"Yep. We will."

"It's possible Kyle saw something," J.B. said. "That could be why he ran out."

Christina looked at him, her eyes as gray now as the horizon. "Then where is he now?"

Good question. J.B. didn't have an answer for her, so he left it hanging.

"Bruce got here before anyone else-I was already calling the police, although I think they heard the explosion." She breathed out, a hint of color high in her cheeks. "Bruce is a rock, I'll say that for him." She looked around suddenly, as if she were just now tuning into her surroundings. "Do you two want anything to eat? I didn't have a chance to make muffins, but I can whip up some eggs."

"Coffee's fine, Chris, thanks," Zoe said.

"Damn, Zoe, I'm sorry for going off on you yesterday. Don't think I don't want the truth to come out about what happened to Dad, because I do."

"I know that."

"Whatever it is, I can take it. It's one thing to live with not knowing who shot him because his killer's in Colombia or New Jersey or someplace and there's just no realistic chance we'll ever know. But if he's here in Goose Harbor, if we can find him, or her, or them-" She trailed off, leaving it at that. "I need to get back to work."

She took her coffee with her and swung off, more energetic and focused if not calmer.

"Hey, Agent McGrath," one of the lobstermen, a wiry guy somewhere between fifty and a million, called to him. "You going to find the bastard who tossed a grenade into your boat? We can't have some asshole running around town torching boats."

It was one thing to tease him-they knew they'd never act on their threats, that they were all in good fun. It was another to have someone come damn close to destroying all their livelihoods.

"The police are on it." He got to his feet and glanced down at Zoe. "I should go back down there. You?"

She rose, handing him his coffee. "Take it with you. I have an in with the owner. We can bring our mugs back when we're done. I don't know about you, but this stuff's burning a hole in my stomach, although I could use about a gallon of coffee this morning."

"Not much sleep last night?"

"As much as you got, Agent McGrath."

The drizzle had picked up, now a fine, bone-chilling, misting rain, but the cops didn't seem to notice. The firefighters were heading out, which meant they were satisfied there were no other explosive devices in the vicinity and the fire danger was over. Although he had an urge to hold Zoe close, keep her warm, J.B. just walked beside her down to the water.

Stick Monroe was hovering on the edge of the taped-off crime scene in his corduroy shorts and sweatshirt. "I heard what happened," he told Zoe. "What an asinine thing to do. What the hell was the point? It must have been Teddy Shelton. He's an idiot. I warned Luke."

Zoe stared at him. "You knew Luke'd hired him?"

"Not immediately. I thought about telling you but decided it would only upset you unnecessarily." He glared down at the lobster boat. "It was a judgment call."

"Not a very good one! Stick, what were you thinking?"

He settled his dark eyes on her. "I was thinking about you. So was Luke. He was concerned, not irrationally, I might add, that McGrath here would stir up trouble and you and Christina would get caught in the crossfire."

"Luke wasn't trying to protect me."

"You underestimate your importance to people, Zoe. You always have. You help them, you're there for them, but when they try to do the same, you question their motives."

Zoe didn't push. "Luke says he fired Shelton."

"Let's hope." Stick sighed, shifting his gaze back down to the ruined boat. "He had nothing to do with this little show. Shelton 's playing his own game now. Don't for one second think he's gone away. He knows Luke's rich. He'll find a way to try to blackmail him, extort money from him."

"What about you?" J.B. asked. "Do you think Shelton will come after you?"

The old judge snorted. "I hope he does. He'll land up in prison for an even longer stretch this time."

Zoe hunched her shoulders against the rain and the cold, and J.B. could feel her focus, her determination as she beat back her concern for her friends and family. "Kyle's BMW pulled out of here a minute or two after the explosion. It almost ran Chris over. She didn't see the driver. They both could have been blinded by the explosion, but who knows."

Stick frowned. "It wasn't Kyle?"

"She doesn't know."

"If it wasn't-"

"Stick, you've dealt with Teddy Shelton. Is it possible he snatched Kyle as a way of putting pressure on Luke and extorting money from him?"

"It's possible, but money isn't what motivates Teddy. At least it's not his central motivation. He likes guns. You'd think seven years in the custody of the federal government would have had an effect, but I remember thinking when I sentenced him that he'd be back-he'd never give up illegal weapons."

J.B. could feel the drizzle collecting on his hair. "The police-"

The judge cut him off. "They have Teddy's record. They know everything I know, and then some, no doubt." He turned back to Zoe and touched a finger to the glistening drizzle on her hair just above her ear. "You'll be okay? How's your hand?"

"It's fine." She smiled at him, her lips a little purple. "You're retired. Go dig in your garden."

"It's compost day." But he seemed distracted, an old man unsettled by the goings-on in the quiet, pretty village where he'd retired. "I heard the explosion. I wonder if this is what Teddy wanted-all of us up and focused on grenades and blowing up boats while he- " He broke off, shaking his head. "Well, I don't know. That's why we have law enforcement."

After he left, Bruce rejoined Zoe and J.B. "You're the talk of the town, J.B. Look-" He pulled J.B. aside, out of Zoe's earshot. "There's a rowboat sinking in the harbor. Marine patrol's all over it. I'm guessing it was Teddy's transportation."

"From?"

"The lobster pound. If I'm right, it's the rowboat that was turned over off to the side. I was going to salvage what I could from it and get rid of it, but I never got around to it. It probably made it here and gave up the ghost."

J.B. considered the logic of taking a rowboat from the lobster pound to the harbor and the docks. It would be slow but quiet. Unexpected. Risky- Shelton had to know the police were looking for him and he'd be in big trouble if they caught him with his flash-bang.

"I'm thinking about driving down to the lobster pound and taking a look around," Bruce said. "Bruce-"

"I know. You're the freaking FBI. You've got procedures." He seemed oblivious to the weather and grinned at J.B. "You coming?"

Zoe thrust herself back in between them, apparently having been left out of the conversation for as long as she was going to stand. "What're you two plotting?"

J.B. handed her his coffee mug. "Bruce and I are going down to the lobster pound. You'll stay here with your sister?"

"I like the way you make that a question instead of an order. Maybe I should go instead of you. I've already been fired."

"What?" Bruce winked at her. "We're just going to talk lobstering. McGrath thinks he knows everything about it."

Zoe rolled her eyes. "You're both full of it. Go. Just keep me posted."

Something about her struck J.B. as vulnerable, a lightning rod for too many people's sense of personal inadequacy, a woman who had her world shattered and was still trying to fight back. An image of her last night came at him, and he decided-screw it. He leaned toward her. "Want me to kiss you goodbye, warm you up a little? You can prove to all of Goose Harbor you're not a repressed Yankee."

"You know, McGrath-" But she stopped, and without warning, kissed him lightly, boldly. She smiled cheekily. "Now who's embarrassed? I don't know if your pals in the FBI have rolled in yet."

"One thing about me, Detective Zoe-I don't embarrass."

Bruce grinned at him. "You work fast, don't you, McGrath? Leave it to Zoe. She gets fired, she learns to knit. Now she falls for a bad-boy FBI agent."

The repressed Yankee in her was back. "I haven't fallen for anyone."

"Yeah, right." Bruce wasn't buying it. "Come on, Agent McGrath. We'll take my truck."