Page 13

THIRTEEN

GAbrIEL

Wednesday Morning

“I took the liberty of calling Gordon anyway, but I had to leave a message,” Elton informed Gabriel the next morning. Gabe had the impression that leaving a message was unusual. The old man stepped back to let Gabriel into the house. “Even if you can’t pay him much, it will be good for him to have something extra. Consider it a favor to me. Besides, you won’t get the Ticket up to snuff without help.”

Gabe resisted rolling his eyes. Even they ached after his long night.

“Well, it will take that much longer.” He gave Gabriel a long once-over, taking in the extra rumpled two-nights-in-his-car appearance. “Wherever you slept last night, doesn’t look like it was the Hilton.”

Gabriel figured his eyes were bloodshot, although he’d avoided looking in the rearview mirror. He was also aware he smelled unpleasant, earthy and sweaty. His five-o’clock shadow felt like it was turning into a more defined scruff, and he knew his beard was starting to show the silver flecks he hated.

He wouldn’t want to run into his doppelg?nger at the grocery store.

“It wasn’t even a Motel 6.” Gabriel narrowed his eyes when the name Elton had mentioned registered. “Gordon,” he repeated slowly. Just how many Gordons were running around the Heartstone Island area these days? “Bit younger than me?” Gabe lifted a hand to point a finger at his own face. “Has a distinctive scar?”

Elton’s brows drew together, creating a fuzzy snow-white slash across his forehead. “How do you know Gordon?” His demeanor flipped from pleasant to suspicious, and Gabriel couldn’t blame him for it.

Gabriel considered his answer as he scratched the back of his neck. A shower was at the top of his to-do list, but he figured he should see about getting the boat cleaned up first so he’d have somewhere to sleep.

“We happened to meet before I got here yesterday. I had to fill the Honda’s tank.”

Elton nodded, and his expression lightened as if it was the most normal thing in the world for Gabriel to have randomly met a mutual at the gas station. And maybe it was in this small and apparently tight-knit community. How long would it be before the ranger turned up, and would he be Elton’s nephew or some other relation?

Thinking about Gordon reminded him of the unpleasant interaction with Calvin and Dwayne. Violence was generally not Gabe’s first choice, and he still felt vaguely nauseous about what had happened at the gas station. But no matter what, those two were always going to be bullies, and if he saw either of them again, he knew his palms would be itching to bang their heads together .

Since he was trying to lay low, never encountering them again was for the best, but Gabe was starting to think it might be impossible on Heartstone.

Why did he always complicate his own life?

“Gordon’s a good kid,” Elton was saying. “He’s had a hard time of it recently and hasn’t always made the best choices, but he’s good at heart. Come on into the kitchen. I dug out those cleaning supplies I mentioned.”

Gabriel and Gordon had at least one thing in common, then. Sliding his hand into his coat pocket, he found the crumpled “notice of violation.” He wondered what Gordon had ended up in jail for and suspected it was for something petty like, say, unpaid parking tickets.

“There’s my headstone right there,” Gabriel replied, limping slightly as he followed Elton into his kitchen. “Here lies Gabriel Karne, who didn’t always make the right decisions. Alright, Elton, I’ll take your advice and give Gordon a chance.”

He’d count the expense toward not getting another trespassing ticket like last night. Not sleeping in his car for a third night in a row would be a relief. Anything for a bit of privacy so he could think properly. The public boat launch he’d lurked next to until daybreak had been another gamble, but no one had bothered him or banged on the roof of his car telling him he had to move.

This morning, when the dashboard clock had finally ticked over to seven a.m., he’d driven over to the country store for desperately needed coffee. The number of people waiting in line was a bit of a shock—but, he reasoned, it was the only store on Heartstone.

Gabriel lingered inside as long as he could, keeping his stinky self away from other customers. He ended up checking out the old photos again and then browsing through an eclectic collection of rentable movies on DVD and VHS. If he’d had a VCR player, he would have been tempted to borrow Overboard . It seemed like the perfect movie, plus he had a soft spot for Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell.

“I told him he should meet you at the marina.” Elton’s bushy eyebrows rose. “When you’re finished for the day, you can borrow my shower. You’re going to need one.” He didn’t wrinkle his nose, but it was implied.

Gabriel looked down at himself. There was a stain on his jeans where the hand pie had leaked onto them. It would be good to change the bandage on his thigh, too.

“Yeah, definitely need one. Do you really think it’s possible to get the boat cleaned up enough for me to sleep on it tonight?” he asked.

“Yes.” Elton waggled his head. “No. Well, depends, I guess. How much clean do you need?”

Gabriel considered the question. “At this point, all I ask is no spiders, no snakes, and a lock on the door. And no leaks.”

“Well, you’re going to have to invest in a new composting toilet and replace the shower pipes. Also,” Elton added after a second, “a new white-gas stove. If you update the electrical panel or put in solar panels, you might be able to have a microwave, too. But, no matter what you do, there’s gonna be spiders.”

“Damn.” Intellectually, Gabriel recognized the importance of spiders. Emotionally, however, he was fine with their complete extinction.

Except for the eight-legged roommates, he’d probably be able to manage living on a sailboat tied up to a dock.. Possibly, he could motor the thing to the boatyard. Sailing it was a big fat no fucking way, although a few YouTube videos might change that.

He had to believe that the Colavitos wouldn’t trace him to Heartstone Island. And on the off chance they did, not to the sailboat. The ease with which he’d found Elton told him he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all himself. Because, no matter where Gabe went, trouble tagged along. He might as well make the best of it.

Gabriel blinked; he’d zoned out and Elton was holding an orange five-gallon bucket full of plastic gloves, rags, and spray bottles filled with cleaning solutions.

“Might as well get started. There’s a green hose wrapped up by the boatshed for water. I took care of her as best I could but”—Elton grimaced—“getting old happened faster than I thought it would. And think about my offer, dinner and the spare bedroom.”

“I’ll think about it.” Gabriel accepted the bucket, letting it swing down and bump against his leg. “Thanks. My mom would thank you too.”

Elton grinned at his words. “Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn’t. I never could understand why Heidi kept the damn thing. But she sent me a check for moorage every year, so I ain’t complaining.”

Of all the things his mother had done over her lifetime, why this? Why a sailboat?

For once, Heidi’s spectral voice did not have an answer for him.

With a groan, Gabe slowly straightened up, one hand massaging the small of his back.

His back ached, and his shoulders had a ticket in, too. He’d been working for several hours and was sweaty and slightly nauseous from the cleanser fumes.

Using a pitted butter knife he’d found, Gabe had managed to force open one of the two top-hinged windows, propping it open with an anonymous tin can he’d discovered under one of the bench seats. As Elton had predicted, the creepy crawler kill was high. Some of the creatures appeared primordial and Gabriel imagined they’d been living on the boat for eons.

“The family line ends here. You bastards should be paying rent,” Gabriel growled as he went after several of them with a shriveled-up tennis shoe that had been keeping the can company. “I’d be a millionaire.”

Tossing the shoe to the side—he’d burn it after the cleaning and killing were finished—Gabriel straightened his back again as much as he could. At his height, he only had about an inch to spare before his head whacked against beams. He’d already learned the painful way to keep his head and back slightly bent as he moved around.

The interior of the sailboat wasn’t winning any awards; however, there didn’t appear to be any holes where water could get inside. It still smelled vaguely of fuel and bleach, but Gabriel was too tired to care. It looked slightly better than when he’d stepped aboard that morning, which was a win. But now he really needed a shower.

Along with the loan of cleaning supplies and heavy-duty trash bags, Elton had given him a plastic garbage bag packed with spare bedding, a pillow, and a comforter so faded Gabriel couldn’t tell what the colored blobs decorating the fabric were supposed to be.

“You think you want to stay on her tonight. But I figure you’re Heidi’s kid, so there’s a working brain in there somewhere,” Elton had said. “When you’re done for the day, come on back here. I’ll rustle up some chili.”

Gabriel had wanted to decline. Surely, he could survive on a bag of corn chips for one more night, but something in Elton’s expression told him it wasn’t so much an invitation as a command. He’d chosen not to argue. It had been a long time since anyone had cooked for him .

Propping his shoulder against the bulkhead, Gabriel raised his wrist and glanced at the time. Squinting, he checked again. It couldn’t be midafternoon already.

“Holy cow.”

He’d been cleaning for hours and, with the exception of the complaints from his body, the time had passed quickly. Where was the helpful Gordon? Should Gabriel be worried? Maybe the guy was a flake. Or, a nicer thought, maybe he’d had something else better come up. Gabriel didn’t have Gordon’s number or access to a phone for the time being, so there was no way to contact him. But also, no one had rattled the gate.

The boat rocked gently back and forth as the tide rolled into Riddle Bay, pushing small waves against its hull. Gabriel was surprised at how quickly he’d become used to the almost constant rolling motion and the sound of the waves. Not that he thought he had sea legs, but at least he wasn’t prone to motion sickness.

A weak laugh escaped him. To clean up this tub only to discover his Achilles’ heel was seasickness would have been the ultimate irony. If that had been the case, he might as well have packed it in and headed back to Seattle to throw himself on the mercy of the Colavitos.

Gabriel had been doing his best not to think about them. Thinking about them wasn’t going to change anything. They wanted retribution, and Gabe preferred not.

A thudding sound reached his ears. Gabriel froze; fresh thoughts of the Colavitos had him on edge. Edging toward the slightly open window, he peeked out. Someone with a key had unlocked the gate. Gabriel could see murky legs tromping down the pier and a smaller dark wobble by their side, probably a dog. His heart pounded against his ribs as he tried to determine who it was. While he’d been cleaning, he had only needed airflow, so the panes were still caked with sea salt, grease, and grime.

Images from Monday played on his internal screen. Most of them were close-ups of the dog’s dark muzzle and white teeth as it leaped for Gabriel’s ankles. Even now, Gabriel could swear he’d been able to feel its hot breath against his skin.

“Fuck me,” he said quietly.

“Who’s in there?” the stranger called out. They sounded gruff and out of sorts.

The voice didn’t remind Gabe of Gordon’s, not that Gabriel had the guy’s voice memorized after the single gas station encounter. It also wasn’t Bart or Paul Anderson; they likely wouldn’t have come themselves though.

Gabriel had never been one to carry a gun if he didn’t have to. That seemed like an invitation for trouble. But he was a decent shot and was starting to wish he had a weapon handy.

Note to self.

“Hello? Who’s there?” the voice demanded again.

He was tempted to reply with “Who wants to know?” but he managed not to, barely. “Just me,” was also on his list of greetings.

Instead, Gabriel lowered his voice and went with a gruff, “Who’s doing the asking?”

There was no reply.

Dammit, he might as well get this over with. Quickly, he ran his hands down his sweatshirt and jeans before deciding it wasn’t worth the effort. Then he walked up the steps that led to the deck, remembering to duck his head at the last minute as he stepped outside into the gray drizzle.

Even if the weather hadn’t been gloomy as fuck, the interior of the Ticket was dark compared to the outside. Gabriel blinked while his eyes adjusted to the slightly brighter daylight, his brain working overtime to make sense of the figure waiting for him.

“Sit, stay,” the man said.

Gabriel almost said something snarky but glanced down and realized the commands were meant for the gray and black mutt staring at him with his head cocked and tongue hanging out.

“Can I help—” was out of his mouth when his tired brain informed him just who was standing in front of him. “What do you want?” he demanded, glaring at the intruder.

Ranger Man.

In the daylight, Gabriel saw that Ranger Lundin was either ten-ish years younger than he was or he lived a quieter, more peaceful life. He was tall, and built like a damn brick shithouse, but Gabe still had an inch or so on him. Solid might have been the word his mother would’ve used. A dark green knit cap was pulled down over his head but longer strands of dark blond or auburn hair stuck out from underneath it. Rugged.

Another box ticked.

“Ah, it seems you didn’t hope quite hard enough. We meet again, and so soon. Did you miss me?”

Ranger Man’s flat stare was meant to intimidate, but it wasn’t going to work on Gabriel. Besides, just like last night with his deep voice, Gabe found it sexy. Instead of backing down, Gabe ignored his aches and pains and mustered up a cheeky grin. This game was only just beginning, and it promised to be more fun than a quality con.

“I recognized your car in the lot. This your boat?” He pointed his chin in the direction of the Ticket .

“What’s it to you anyway?” Gabriel responded.

“We try to keep the number of trespassers to a minimum.”

“As far as I know, the marina isn’t part of the park. Why don’t you bug off? Go harass old ladies walking their dogs or kids playing in the streets.” That last one was weak, but Gabriel was tired, and his back was stiffening up. He made a note to do better next time.

“Your car’s plates aren’t registered on the marina’s website as required, so I’m going to assume you’re trespassing.” Lundin nodded his chin toward the boat again. “That vessel has been tied up here for years, and no one but one of the locals has ever been near it. Last night, you were illegally camping. Today, lo and behold, here you are, messing with a boat that is barely afloat. It’s not a far reach for me to conclude you don’t belong here either.”

Gabriel wanted to be offended by the barely afloat comment, but it was the truth. He allowed himself to be slightly annoyed.

“As much as it grates me to inform you, The Golden Ticket is mine. It was left to me by my mother. Happy now?”

The ranger didn’t look particularly satisfied by that tidbit of information, so Gabriel shouldn’t have been surprised by his next words. “I’ll need to see your proof of ownership.”

Still, his mouth dropped open. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Ranger Man parted his lips enough to release a single word. “No.”

Gabriel sucked in a deep breath through his nose, dropping his head back to stare up at the gray clouds churning over the bay. Slowly, he counted to ten. And then to twenty for good measure. What was up with this guy? No amount of hotness made up for his attitude.

“I don’t have it with me,” he finally admitted, not knowing how he would get it either. “I didn’t expect the Inquisition to show up and demand my paperwork.”

Elton had to have the information tucked away somewhere, right? A handwritten letter from his dead mother would probably not pass muster with this guy.

“Until you register your plates and have proof of ownership for the sailboat, I am going to have to ask you to leave.” Ranger Man set his hands on his hips in a do not fucking mess with me way .

Taunting Gabriel with a red flag.

“For fuck’s sake. Ask away, Mr. Whoever You Are. I’m not leaving, and if I recall correctly, you’re not the sheriff.”

Gabriel braced himself for Lundin’s reaction. Maybe the ranger would try to remove him from the dock by force. Maybe he’d call Gabriel’s bluff and get the Sheriff’s Office on the radio. The last thing Gabe wanted to do right now was to have to ask Elton down to the marina to confirm his story.

Whatever had happened to the nice, trusting small-town citizens he’d read about?

“Casey Lundin,” the man ground out. “Ranger Casey Lundin. And I can, as the legitimate owner of one of the vessels moored here, ask you for proof that you belong here.”

“Do you have a no-trespassing kink?” Gabriel demanded. “Why would I spend hours cleaning something that isn’t mine? Huh? Why?” Frustration bubbled. “Because I wouldn’t, I assure you. I am not that kind of guy.”

Crossing his arms over his broad, rain-slicker-covered chest, the ranger eyed him. After a few seconds, he seemed to come to some kind of conclusion. Gabriel was fairly sure it wasn’t good.

“I’ll give you twenty-four hours to come up with the paperwork. If I don’t see it, I’m reporting you.”

“Reporting me for cleaning up an old boat? You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

They’d been so engaged in their stare-down that neither one of them had heard the metal gate open. When it closed with a rattle, they turned in tandem to look down the dock.

The dog looked up at his owner, decided the sit-stay command didn’t apply any longer, and raced down to greet Elton.

“Bowie, get your ass back here,” Lundin shouted after the dog.

The dog pretended not to hear him but did slow down so he wouldn’t knock into Elton. Instead, he did that weird jumping up without touching thing that some dogs do.

“Afternoon, Gabriel. Thought I’d stop by and see how it was going,” Elton said, moving stiffly down the pier to where they faced each other. “You’ve got to be exhausted.” He looked around expectantly. “Did Gordon leave already?”

Shifting, Lundin shot a glance Elton’s direction and then returned his attention to Gabe. An indecipherable expression flitted across his face.

“If you step a single hair out of line, I’ll find out, and you’ll be sorry you did,” he said quietly.

Gabriel had no time to respond before Lundin continued with, “Elton, why aren’t you using your cane? Bowie, get back here right now.”

The last bit to the dog was muttered in a low growl that sent an uninvited shiver up Gabe’s spine. Too bad Lundin’s personality was defective.

And he was law enforcement, couldn’t forget that.