Page 34 of In Cold Blood (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #1)

The lake rippled before him as the boat surged through the still, dark waters and he approached the ten-acre island.

The silhouetted tip of the Olympic Whiteface Mountain loomed over the island across the way.

Having grown up in the region, like most locals, he was familiar with the history of all three islands, specifically Hawk.

It had been developed as a summer residence for the bishop of New York back in the early 1900s.

They’d designed it with trails and well-manicured lawns, and built a historic six-bedroom house with an additional boathouse and dock.

Out of the three islands, this was the only one that was available for renting a week at a time.

Noah skirted around the island, taking it in from the water.

He was mindful that it was private property.

The investigator in him wanted to step onto the island but if it was being used to traffic drugs, he figured there had to be some form of surveillance in place even when no one was there.

Game trail cams attached to trees or some home security that could let them monitor any lookie-loos.

The last thing he wanted was to be pulled in for trespassing days before he was about to head back.

But if Ed was right about Luke returning with a bag. Maybe not.

His brother had found something. The question was what?

On his second pass around the island, noticing that it looked empty, he couldn’t resist. Curiosity got the better of him.

Instead of pulling up to the main boat dock, he approached from the eastern side, bringing the boat close before killing the engine.

Noah took the rope and tied it off to a low-hanging tree branch, then leaped onto the island.

The brush was thick. The owners of the island only needed to cut back and maintain the portion that would be used by renters, so he found himself traipsing through dense foliage.

Noah took out his EDC flashlight and illuminated the way. Mosquitos buzzed around him, landing and sucking his exposed skin. He slapped the back of his neck, second-guessing himself.

As he paved a way to the island home, he pondered how the drugs were being trafficked. Were they using it when no visitors were there? Were certain visitors in on it? And what was being transported?

It didn’t take long to reach the property. It was a Tudor-style house with thick exposed wooden beams and a white exterior. He stooped low in the tree line, his flashlight washing over the home as he searched for exterior cameras.

There were none he could see.

What are you doing, Noah? he asked himself as he darted out toward the two-story house. He kept eyeing the trees and house for any security system.

He had no intention of breaking in and he didn’t expect they would leave the place unlocked or use it as a storage area for the product.

If it was owned by Harry Carter from the Pub and Brewery, he might not have even been aware.

It wasn’t uncommon for drug runners to use rental establishments to conduct business.

A place like this would be a perfect meeting ground for buyers and sellers.

Away from prying eyes. They would be able to hear boats approaching and there was nowhere for a helicopter to land.

It made sense on so many levels but still, it was a rental.

They would be taking a big chance if Harry wasn’t involved.

Noah made his way around to the back and up the steps onto the porch. He tried the door. It was locked. He peered through the windows. It was too dark to see anything. He checked a few of the doors. All sealed shut.

As he came around the front, he heard voices.

Low, barely audible.

Noah ducked, pressing his back to the side of the house.

His pulse ticking upward.

Two men came out of the front door and stood at the top of the stairs. Noah figured they must have had their boat inside the boathouse as during two laps around the island, he never saw even a flashlight. There was no moon out that night. Why wouldn’t they be using flashlights?

“Hurry up, we don’t have all night,” one of them said.

Noah inched up to the corner of the house and watched as two other men carried crates of bottles. He could hear them clinking. “Just set them inside for now. We’ll swing back tomorrow and organize everything.”

“There’s still a lot to carry in.”

“C’mon, Zayne,” the other replied. The two men headed off while the other two disappeared inside.

They came out seconds later, the door closing slowly behind them.

A crazy thought shot through his mind as he watched them head down to the boathouse.

Go inside. It might be the only opportunity you get.

No. There wasn’t enough time.

“A few more and we should be done,” he heard someone holler.

Instead, Noah waited until the men came back lugging more crates into the house before he raced down to the boathouse to check out what they were bringing in. The boathouse was huge. There was enough room for multiple boats to be stored or maintained.

Noah slid inside.

The atmosphere was dim and musty with the smell of mildew, wood, and fuel oil.

There was a large open space for storing boats on racks. The walls and ceiling were made of wood and there were a few windows to let in natural light. Off to his right was a workshop area for repairs. Tools lined the wall.

He made his way over to a twenty-foot speedboat that was docked.

Once he was sure no one was on it, he boarded and noted the last few crates that were at the back, stacked up.

He clicked on a flashlight and shone it over the crates and brown boxes.

They had the emblem for High Peaks Pub and Brewery.

Inside each of them were lots of bottles of beer along with red and white wine in the boxes.

He took a beer bottle out and held it up, shining the light over it.

Nothing abnormal.

“Huh. Restocking for guests?”

Noah took out his phone and took a few snapshots before putting it back.

He’d been so distracted looking at it all, that he didn’t hear the men closing in on the boathouse.

It was only the sound of one of them coughing that made his head swivel.

Shit. His mind went into overdrive. He turned to see where he could hide.

There was nowhere. Only one way in and one way out. Noah peered down into the dark water.

He had no choice.

He took out his phone and set it behind some of the docking equipment.

Then, moving fast, he lowered himself into the frigid waters. Even though they were in the peak of the summer months, the water was still cold. He slipped down, his head lowering to the water as the men entered.

“I’m thinking we should be getting a pay raise.”

“Best of luck. I’ve already asked.”

“We’re the ones taking all the risk,” the other said.

“You’ve had one fall. That’s it.”

“That’s one too many.”

Noah slipped below the docking platform, gazing up through the slats. Water wormed off his face. He noted multiple cobwebs and large dock spiders. He grimaced. He was confident they wouldn’t see him as it was too damn dark but that didn’t stop his heart from racing.

The other two came in.

“All right. Let’s go.”

They hopped into the boat, and one of them untied the boat and landed in it with a thud on the bow. The engine roared to life. They backed out and then did a sharp turn, sending a wave of water back into the boathouse, washing over his face.

“Son of a bitch!” Noah said before climbing out, shivering like mad.

He snagged some rancid cloth hanging from a nail inside the boathouse and ran it over his body but it did little to dry him.

He was drenched. He collected his phone and hightailed it out of there, slinking back into the shadows and trudging back to his boat.

Ed and Axel were there to meet him when he returned. Axel barked a few times. Ed was all wide-eyed and eager to know what he’d found. As soon as he saw how soaked he was, he couldn’t resist laughing. “Now I know where the expression ‘wet works’ in spy novels comes from.” Ed roared with laughter.

“Hilarious.”

“So, what did you find?”

“Nothing. A few people restocking the place with alcohol. That’s all.”

“Yeah. Probably getting ready for another one of their drug-fueled parties. I expect the drugs arrive later.”

“Or maybe, Ed, it’s just a legitimate business.” He shook himself like a dog. Water droplets shot off in different directions. His shirt leeched to his skin, making him feel even more uncomfortable. He shivered.

“That’s not what your brother thought.”

Noah glanced back across the water. “I know he never showed you the contents of the bag. But do you remember when he found that bag?”

“Yeah. It was the night before he died.”

“Would you recognize the bag if you saw it again?”

“Of course. It was dark blue with an orange band across it. Reebok, I think.”

He nodded, glancing away up toward the house. He caught movement. Someone was coming down the slope toward the dock. Noah shone his light that way.

“You know skinny dipping usually involves taking your clothes off?” she said, squinting and lifting an arm to block the glare.

“Another comedian.”

It was Alicia.