With the Material Witness in the Safehouse. Carla Cassidy
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feeling the need to get out of there, to escape her nearness.
Besides, he had work to do, and it wouldn’t get done by him sitting here with her. “I’m going to finish unloading the car, then head out for a couple of hours.” He didn’t wait for her reply but went out the back door and to the car.
He had not only his suitcase in the trunk, but also several shopping bags from the discount store. He gathered up everything and returned to the cottage.
Britta followed him into the living room where he dumped all the bags on the sofa. “There’re clothes and toiletries for you in here.” He placed his suitcase on the floor and opened it. On top of his clothes was a cell phone and charger. “This is for you,” he said as he handed her the phone, then plugged the charger into an electric socket in the wall.
“I’ll give you my number so that you can call me if you need me,” he continued. “Stay away from the doors and windows. Nobody knows you’re here and I want to keep it that way.”
“So basically I’m a prisoner here,” she said flatly.
He forced a lazy grin to his lips. “That’s right, darlin’, and I’m your number-one jailer.” He laced his voice with his Texas drawl. “And while I’m out trying to figure out what’s going on in this little village, you might want to use your energy and cook me up a good dinner.”
Her eyes narrowed and her back went rigid, just as he knew they would. She’d hated it before when he’d used the little-woman routine on her, which was why he wanted to use it and see if it brought back any memories. The fact that she merely nodded and didn’t explode let him know just how fragile she was.
“I should be back in a couple of hours.” Once again he felt an incredible need to gain some distance from her. “Lock the doors and call me if you need anything.”
He didn’t wait for her reply but instead stepped out of the back door and into the briny-scented air. This was going to be more difficult than he’d thought.
When he’d walked away from Britta months ago, he’d put her in his past. He’d been determined never to see her again, that she would never be part of his life again. But her disappearance and the fact that she might be in trouble had changed everything.
He stood in front of the house and gathered his thoughts. He’d start at the docks. He wasn’t sure of the best way to proceed, but he’d decided to play the role of Britta’s boyfriend, desperately seeking any information about his missing lover.
He patted his pocket where he had a picture of himself and Britta tucked inside. It had been taken months ago, and it was a particularly good photo of Britta.
As he headed toward the docks, dark clouds hung low overhead and the scent of decaying fish grew stronger despite a wind that had picked up. The ocean looked unwelcoming with whitecaps shooting up with tremendous force. A rumble of thunder in the distance announced a coming storm.
A group of men sat at an old wooden picnic table, their sunburned faces identifying them as men who spent most of their time on the water. Ryan ambled toward them with a friendly smile. If he was ever going to pull out his good-ol’-boy-from-Texas act, now was the time.
“How you all doing?” he asked, then cast his gaze back out to the tumultuous sea. “Guess it’s not a good day to be out fishing.”
“We can afford to take a day off,” a man with white hair and a grizzly beard said. “Been pulling in the best hauls of our lives lately.”
“Ryan Burton,” Ryan said, and stuck out his hand.
“They call me Captain Claybourne,” the old man said as he grabbed Ryan’s hand in a firm shake. He pointed to the man next to him, a young man with a shock of blond hair. “This here is Sam Lanier.” Ryan nodded, and Captain Claybourne then pointed to the man across the table. “And that’s Alex Gibson.” Alex Gibson raised a hand in greeting, his bright blue eyes holding a touch of reserve.
“So, the fishing business has been booming,” Ryan said as Captain Claybourne gestured him to a seat at the table.
“I’ve been fishing these waters for fifty years, and I’ve never seen anything like it,” Claybourne exclaimed, and shook his head. “We’re pulling in new records every day. It doesn’t seem to matter what kind of fish it is, they’re all as big as I’ve ever seen them.”
“Gonna make us all wealthy men,” Sam said with a wide grin.
“Don’t be spending the money too freely,” Alex said. “You never know with the sea when things might go bad again.”
There was a sober moment of silence, then Captain Claybourne eyed Ryan curiously. “You vacationing here in Raven’s Cliff?”
“Actually, I’m trying to chase down a woman,” Ryan replied.
“Aren’t we all,” Alex replied dryly.
The other two men hooted. “Don’t let Lucy hear you saying stuff like that,” Sam exclaimed. “Lucy owns Tidal Treasures, a little trinket shop,” he explained to Ryan, “and she and Alex have been seeing each other.”
“Well, I’m here in town looking for my girlfriend,” Ryan replied as he pulled the photo from his pocket. He handed it to Captain Claybourne, aware of a subtle hierarchy among the men. “She got here a couple of days ago but nobody has seen her since the night she arrived.”
Claybourne looked at the photo then shook his head and handed it to Sam. “Sorry, I haven’t seen her around.”
“Me, neither,” Sam replied.
Alex took the photo and studied it, then shrugged his broad shoulders. “Sorry.” He handed the photo back to Ryan, who pocketed it once again.
“Have you talked to Captain Swanson?” Claybourne asked.
“Nah, I’ve been reluctant to go to the authorities. Valerie has a history of disappearing then turning up again,” Ryan replied. “Besides, he has enough on his hands with the accident that happened at the wedding of the mayor’s daughter.”
“Yeah, we weren’t invited to the wedding, but we heard about it,” Sam said. He shook a cigarette from a pack and lit it. He took a deep pull, released the smoke, then shook his head. “Crazy, huh, how she got blown off that cliff and just disappeared. You’d think her body would have been found by now. We all searched.”
“Sometimes the sea doesn’t give up what it takes,” Alex said.
Ryan stood, knowing there was nothing else to ask them, no reason to linger. None of them had displayed any suspicious-looking expressions as they’d looked at the photo of Britta. “Well, I appreciate your time and it was nice meeting you all.”
“Sorry we couldn’t be of help. You going to be around the area in case we do see your woman?” Claybourne asked.
“I’ll be around,” Ryan replied. He didn’t want to give them any information about where he was staying to lead anyone to Britta, so with a small wave, he left the men and headed farther up the dock.
His cell phone rang and he grabbed it from his pocket and checked the caller ID. It was Michael Kelly. “I did some checking into that drug you asked me about,” he said when Ryan answered. “I can’t find any information on Stinging Flower. It’s not in the database and nobody I’ve asked has ever heard of it.”
Ryan frowned with frustration. He’d been hoping to learn more about the drug that had been injected into Britta. “You’ll keep digging?”
“Yeah, but I have a feeling at least for now it’s a dead end. You sure you don’t need me out there? I could help you turn over stones to try to find out what happened.”
“No, I don’t want two of us asking questions and bringing unwanted attention to all this. I met the captain of the police department. He seems like a sharp guy. I don’t want to get him involved in this because