Page 22 of Bait and Switch (Subtle Deceptions #2)

Ah yes, because morgue humor was not just cops standing around staring at dead bodies.

Enough missions and a searcher learned to compartmentalize.

The missing weren’t always uninjured and simply waiting for rescuers underneath the comforting boughs of a tree like something out of Snow White .

Yesterday’s rescue was a perfect example.

There were times when Casey hated how unforgiving the forest was, but whenever he had that thought, he also realized that was one of the things he liked about it.

A person had to respect the forest; it was a living, breathing entity, and it was perfectly willing to kill those who disregarded its power.

“I’ll have my phone with me.”

Clicking off, Casey snagged the plastic container of dry dog food from under the sink and dumped a serving into Bowie’s dish.

One last can of wet cat food was hiding at the back of the cabinet, so he opened it and spooned half onto a saucer.

The cat appeared out of nowhere, sniffed the food, glared at Casey, and began to delicately eat.

Casey grabbed his waiting coffee and inhaled the scent of it deep into his lungs—the smell was almost as good as the real thing—then sat down at his table.

Setting the cup to one side, he scrolled through his contacts until he found the number he wanted, his college friend who now worked in Olympia.

“Hey, Casey.” His friend sounded out of breath, as if even at this relatively early hour she was already headed out somewhere.

“Marlene, sorry to call you out of the blue like this again. Is there any chance you can do me a favor and look up a registration? It’s for one of the sailboats at the marina. There was a fire last night, and we’re having a hard time getting hold of the registered owner.”

“Ugh, I would, even though all you ever do is call for favors,” she teased. “One of these days I’m going to call in a biggy. But I can’t today. There’s a family emergency and I’m on leave for the week, not in the office at all.”

“I’m sorry, is there anything I can do to help?”

“Fix my dysfunctional family? Ha.” She sighed and Casey heard a car door being beeped open in the background.

“My estranged cousin was killed last week, and my asshole uncle just got around to telling me. I know it’s because he’s grief-stricken and alone, but fuck, the man brought it on himself.

He’s the one who couldn’t handle the gay.

Now he’s dead and there’s no chance for them to reconcile, and I think Uncle John wanted to reconnect.

I’d been talking to Pete recently about it, and I think he was coming around to the idea.

God, humans are so monumentally stupid.”

At the name Pete , icy invisible fingers crawled down Casey’s spine.

“Marlene, your cousin’s name was Peter? Did I hear that right?” Casey grimaced as he forced himself to ask the next question. “Did he use the same last name as you? Was he on your mom’s or your dad’s side of the family?”

“My mom was Uncle John’s sister, so we don’t share the same last name.”

Marlene and Casey had been study-buddies in college who’d bonded because neither one of them had been big partiers or into the recreational drugs that were readily available on and around the campus.

They had a running joke that school officials might as well have invested in drug vending machines; at least then they would have gotten a kickback, maybe been able to fund a few scholarships.

Still raw from Mickie’s trial and incarceration, Casey hadn’t mentioned his family situation and Marlene had taken the hint and hardly ever talked about hers.

He had known that she’d grown up in Westfort, that her mom had died of breast cancer while she was in high school, and that her dad owned a fishing boat.

While Marlene knew that Casey was from Heartstone, had a soft spot for rescue animals, and spent his summers hiking the backcountry trails.

That had been enough to form a connection that had persisted past college graduation.

“And no on Pete, too,” she said, like Casey’d known she would. “After Uncle John kicked him out, he started using his mom’s maiden name, but I didn’t know that until later. He is—was,” Marlene corrected, “older than me. We weren’t super close growing up, but I ran into him a few years back. Why?”

Instead of answering her, Casey asked another question. “I know this is going to sound weird, but had you talked to your cousin lately?”

He heard the thump of a car door shutting, the clatter of keys, and the hum of an engine.

“Funny you should ask that. He called right after you did the other week. Had a question about the same person you did, Gabriel Karne. Said he had something of his and wanted to return it. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I mentioned your request. It just seemed so odd.

” She was quiet for a moment. “Why are you asking me these questions, Casey?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he said honestly. “Does your uncle happen to own a sailboat?”

“My aunt did. Sailing was her dream. She was such a goof, she named it Shangri-La after that moldy old book. It was moored at your marina last I heard. Pete and I thought that was kind of funny too, such a small world. Seriously, Casey, tell me what is going on.”

“I can’t. For one, I don’t have a good grasp of it all yet. But also, the less you know the better. I think anyway.”

Marlene huffed, clearly not pleased with Casey’s response.

“I’m driving up to Westfort now to help my uncle organize Pete’s memorial.

” It sounded to Casey like she was choking back tears.

“Which is really just me because my uncle didn’t know anything about his own son and my dad honestly wants to smack Uncle John every time they’re in the same room.

I generally run interference, it’s cheaper than a visit to the ER.

Keep an eye out for me. I’ll be in your neighborhood as soon as I can and I’m going to want some answers.

None of this evasive bullshit. You’re my friend and I expect better from you. ”

There was a click and then Casey was listening to empty air.

“Dammit.” Then he added, “Fuck,” for good measure.

An ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach was warning him that shit was possibly about to hit the fan. But at least now Casey thought he’d figured out how Peter Vale had known to ask for Gabriel the other day.

It was Casey’s fault.

He gulped the rapidly cooling coffee, making a face as he did so.

The exchange with Vale had been short and sweet.

Casey had just returned from the Weird Gabriel Karne Family Reunion at Elton’s after detouring through the park to walk Bowie and trying to reclaim his sense of equilibrium.

He’d parked at the marina and was unlocking the gate when a stranger had pulled up in a flashy white BMW, effectively blocking in Casey’s Wagoneer.

Casey’d been about to tell him to fuck right off and get his damn car off private property when the driver stopped him by asking about Charming Fucker.

What had Casey said? “He’s not here.” Seemed straightforward, and even better, it had been the truth.

“But he is staying around here?”

By this time, he had gotten out of his car and was approaching Casey.

For his part, Bowie had ignored the stranger and was instead sniffing around for the stray cat—some guard dog he was.

Casey, on the other hand, had immediately been irritated by the man’s manufactured perfection.

The short, tidy, blond hair, the khaki slacks that showed no signs of wrinkles, the pink oxford-style shirt that peeked out from his high-end parka—it had all bothered Casey for reasons he still wasn’t willing to think deeply about.

“If you say so.” Not one of his better responses, but he had a natural suspicion about sharing information with strangers.

“Sorry, my manners are terrible,” the man had said. “My name’s Peter, I’m a friend of Gabe’s. If you see him, will you pass a message along for me?”

“I’m not Karne’s personal secretary. Come back when he’s here.”

Nice, Casey.

“In that case, I won’t bother giving you my card,” Peter had responded with a sneer.

“Thanks for nothing.” Less than a minute later, the man had driven off, going too fast down the road like most BMW drivers did.

Casey had resisted shaking his fist; he wasn’t really an angry old man.

Not yet anyway. Then he’d let himself onto the dock and immediately called Karne.

Shaking off the memory, Casey took a last swallow of his coffee and scowled at the mug’s contents, which were no longer tepid but in fact stone cold.

“Gross.”

Standing up and crossing to the sink, he rinsed out the mug and set it in the drainer.

“Come on, everybody,” Casey said to Bowie and the as-yet-to-be-named cat. Bowie jumped up in excitement. The cat narrowed its eyes in suspicion. “Yep, you’re coming too.” He grabbed his parka and slipped it on, then made sure his gloves were in the pocket.

A tangled knot was starting to break up and reveal secrets, or at least some of them.

For undefined reasons, this was not a comforting thought.

Maybe it was more like a giant iceberg calving and sending the consequences out into the universe—no control, no steering, just crushing everything in its path.

“All fucking hell is going to break loose,” he said to Bowie as he tugged his toque onto his head. “Come on, might as well get the day started.”

Casey left the rowboat pulled high up onto the shore and turned to examine the pier, analyzing the damage he could see. The fire department had cordoned it off with DO NOT CROSS tape, which didn’t do anything except add to the general air of despair lingering around the marina.

He made a mental note to check in with Greery.

The two sailboats were a loss; he didn’t need to be an inspector to know that.

Even though the weather was cold and damp, the flames had fulfilled their purpose.

What Casey needed to know was how severely the dock had been affected by the fire.

Would he have to search for a new berth?

As it was, getting through the red tape to get the dock repaired—if repairs were needed—was likely going to be a fucking nightmare.

He sent a little prayer up to the yellow-tinged clouds that the pier was relatively undamaged.

With that last thought, he scooped up the cat, tucked it under one arm, and started toward the parking lot with Bowie, as usual, trotting along at his side.

“Before anything, we need to drop the cat at Pedro’s. He has time right now,” he told Elton and Charming not too much later. “Then we have things to talk about.”

“I’m impressed you managed to get both Bowie and the cat to shore,” Elton said.

“The cat must have had some experience as a boat cat because it didn’t try and jump out, even stuck around when we bumped onto the beach.

” Maybe it had been because the air still smelled like smoke.

Or maybe the creature recognized a good setup when Gabe had wrapped it in a blanket and saved it from flames.

“I have cash,” said Gabe, patting his back pocket. “I’ll pay for the exam.”

They’d decided to meet in the Norskland parking lot. Casey had hoped to grab more coffee, but Pedro Morales, the island’s only veterinarian, had returned his call sooner than Casey’d expected.

“All right, let’s get going, moneybags.”

“I’m gonna let you two go on your own. There’s no reason to take two vehicles.”

Casey decided to ignore the smirk accompanying Elton’s statement.