Page 105

The creak of footsteps overhead snapped him back to awareness.

Someone was deck side.

It was a surprise. He had accepted there was a possibility of this, but had not really expected it. Not here. Not today.

Of course, it could be the harbor master come to see who was up to no good on Dr. Perry’s yacht.

He was pretty sure the footsteps overhead did not belong to the harbor master.

Beau had expected this, had been worried about him, and Archie reached for the Glock 43. Beau’s backup piece.

He mopped his face with his arm, rose from the cushioned area and moved out of sight of the cabin doorway. His eyes were still leaking, but he felt eerily calm.

Footsteps on the companionway stairs. No attempt at stealth.

Archie steadied the Glock.

The creak of wood, From the other side of the door, Beau’s muffled voice called, “Archie?”

Archie relaxed. Still a surprise, but a much more pleasant one. He holstered the pistol and went to the door, opening it.

Beau, looking pale and grim, gazed at him. His expression changed to alarm. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? You’re crying. Why are you crying?”

Archie shook his head, and then astonished himself by going to Beau, who automatically reached for him, folding him into his arms.

“What is it?” Beau sounded shaken. “What’s wrong?” He was holding so tightly, Archie’s bruises twinged in a way they hadn’t for days.

Archie, wet cheek to Beau’s warm one, got out, “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“The hell. A. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Archie shook his head again, drew back. He even managed a smile.

To which Beau exclaimed, “You look like hell!”

That actually helped. Archie laughed shakily. “Thanks.” He wiped his eyes impatiently. No lie about the human body being sixty percent water. “I really am okay. What are you doing here?”

Recollection came back to Beau’s face. He said, “I think you’d better sit down.”

Proof of how ragged Archie felt, how precarious the world seemed, he didn’t try to argue, didn’t think of arguing. He moved to the built-in table, propping his hip on the edge, folding his arms, and waiting.

“Leo Baker shot himself at John’s funeral.”

“What?”

Beau’s expression was bleak. “He shot himself. In front of everyone.”

“He…”

Archie remembered that terrifying smile Leo had given him at the church. Leo had looked like death, but Archie had not imagined—could still not imagine—

What had been in Leo’s mind? When had he decided to do that?

Beau’s tone was flat. “His confession was delivered to the station about the same time he killed himself. He said he planned to commit suicide, but if we got there in time, that would be a sign that he still deserved to live. And if we didn’t, the spirits demanded his death as payment.”