Page 21

TWENTY-ONE

GAbrIEL

Friday

Over their dinner the previous evening—spaghetti and iceberg lettuce salad because he “needed his greens,” Elton had bitterly grumbled while also liberally dousing said greens with ranch dressing—Gabe and Elton had reasoned that, if the investigating deputy was halfway decent at his job, they’d eventually trace Dwayne Perkins and his brother to the gas station. After all, Gordon had called 9-1-1 that fateful day, and presumably he had told the responder both Dwayne’s and Calvin’s names.

“You’re going to want to make yourself scarce for that. They’ll be on the lookout for your car,” Elton had muttered. “After someone stops by tomorrow, I’m going to make a few phone calls myself. I have an idea I want to follow up on.”

“What?”

“It’s just a fancy, I doubt anything will come of it. Why is there such interest in Gordon’s property? It’s ten acres, not even a drop in the bucket. The peninsula is over two million. I have a question a local land lawyer might be able to answer for me. ”

“That’s not a bad idea at all. I think I’ll stop by Lundin’s and talk to him.”

“He’s up and out early.”

“I guess I have to be up earlier then.”

Most of their conclusions assumed there’d be an investigation into Dwayne’s death. It wouldn’t have bothered Gabriel’s conscience if the Sheriff’s Office chose to ignore Perkins’s early demise, but seeing as Dwayne was—had been— the sheriff’s nephew, Gabriel figured he wouldn’t be that lucky.

The trespassing violation was bad enough; he didn’t want anyone doing a background check on him. Gabriel didn’t know who the Colavitos had on their payroll, but he wouldn’t put it past them to have somebody back in Seattle PD keeping an eye out for his name. Larry Colavito was nothing if not thorough in his grudge-holding.

He woke before daylight Friday morning and dragged his body out of Elton’s place before Elton was up and about. Too early, if Gabriel was being honest with himself. On the plus side, he figured out Elton’s coffee maker and had a travel cup of steaming hot coffee sitting pretty in the Honda’s center console.

A red Jeep Wagoneer was parked in one of the spots at the marina. Gabriel didn’t think he’d missed seeing it there before, he wasn’t that oblivious, so he assumed it was Lundin’s and that it meant he was at home. Ranger Man probably drove the green Forest Service truck for work.

Parking the Honda, Gabriel hopped out and dug into his coat pocket for the key he still hadn’t gotten around to making a copy of. He let himself onto the dock and strode past The Golden Ticket , shooting the sailboat a baleful glance. So far, the boat had been nothing but a pain in his ass. He was lucky that Elton saw fit to invite him to stay at his home.

And why was that? Gabriel didn’t want to look a grift horse in the mouth—ha-ha—but could Elton have an ulterior motive? At some point, everybody wanted something, but that didn’t seem to apply to Elton. Gabe pushed that thought away and strode toward the end of the dock.

Lundin’s boat the Barbara —who the fuck was Barbara anyway?—was in much better condition than The Golden Ticket . Even under the weak morning light and the gray and gloomy clouds, with the sails tucked away and much of the deck covered by what must have been a custom-fitted tarp, the boat managed to gleam. The Ticket sulked like a scrawny teenager who hung out behind the gym and smoked clove cigarettes. At least, some of them had back in Gabe’s time.

“Show-off,” he said to the vessel.

Mimicking what Lundin had done the other day, Gabriel knocked his knuckles against the hull instead of just climbing aboard. There was no immediate reply.

“Ranger Man, you in there?” he called out.

A muffled thump was followed with, “Not for you.”

“Ha, fucking, ha. I want to ask you some questions. Can I come aboard?”

“Somehow, you don’t seem like the kind of person who asks permission.”

Ah, well, Lundin wasn’t wrong about that.

“I’m not, but I promised Elton I’d behave.”

More thumping, the rasp of a lock clicking open, and then, “Come on in, I guess.”

One of the least enthusiastic greetings Gabriel had ever been extended, but considering the source, he wasn’t shocked.

“Don’t put yourself out being friendly. I can’t take it,” Gabe muttered, grabbing a polished railing and swinging onto the deck. “Your dog at least seems to like me. ”

It was unusual for someone to take an immediate dislike to him. Sure, there were people who grew to loathe him over time, but he’d had to work at it. Lundin had skipped right to the end.

“Yeah, well, Bowie doesn’t always have the best taste.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Unlike his floating heap, the Barbara’s steering and navigation area was separate from the main cabin. The Barbara was also longer, which probably made it more comfortable. Stepping around some rope and an unlabeled plastic container, Gabriel made his way down into the cabin and stopped short.

Lundin was facing the entrance and had a t-shirt pulled halfway over his head, so Gabriel got a nice eyeful of furry chest and abs before it was pulled all the way down. Noted. And no . His gaze was properly averted by the time Lundin’s damp head appeared.

“I’m on shift in forty minutes.” Lundin tucked the t-shirt in and pulled on a dark green button-up he grabbed from a two-person table affixed to the bulkhead. “What do you want?” he asked as he started on the buttons.

Elton had assured him he could trust Lundin. But still, Gabriel hesitated.

“I had a long day yesterday,” Lundin said impatiently, “and I’m running behind already today. What do you need?”

“Right.” Gabriel dragged a hand through his hair, conscious of the silver sparks that were becoming more noticeable each passing day. “Elton’s still worried about Gordon MacDonald. I assume you know nobody’s seen him for a couple days now?”

Lundin nodded, confirming Gabriel’s suspicion that he knew just about everyone’s movements on the island. His sharp dark gaze had Gabriel wishing for a little more space to move around. Now that he had Lundin’s attention, though, he almost wished he didn’t .

“Er, anyway. I offered to poke around a bit, but I wasn’t able to track Gordon down, even up at his property. I did find something else, though.”

“What?” Lundin looked up at Gabe as he pulled on his socks, not bothering to hide his impatience. “What is it? Seriously, I have to stop by Elton’s before I head in, so I’d like to leave in this century.”

“Dwayne Perkins. Dead.”

Now, Lundin stopped what he was doing to give him his full attention. “You’re sure? I saw Dwayne and his brother on Tuesday.”

“Bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. Don’t think there’s any coming back from that.”

“I can’t say I’m wracked with grief over Dwayne Perkins’s death, but why are you here this morning telling me this? Dead bodies are more Rizzi’s jurisdiction, go talk to the TCSO.”

The goodbye-and-good-riddance tone to his voice was loud and clear. Too bad he was dealing with Gabriel Karne, who couldn’t give a crap about tones.

“Honestly”— asshole was implied—“being here is against my better judgment, but Gordon’s Elton’s friend and is nowhere to be found, and now Dwayne is very much dead. Elton thinks the sheriff will be looking at Gordon for it. From what I know, I think the same.”

Lundin scowled. “Well, shit. No way did Gordon MacDonald kill Dwayne Perkins.” He snagged another sock off the floor and started to pull it on. “But, damn, this changes things.”

“Why?”

“I discovered Gordon’s truck last night. It was late so I didn’t call Elton. Damn, I should have.” He rose to his feet—taking up more space—and paced from the table to the gallery area and back again, running his hand through his mussed hair as he did so.

Focus, Chance. You don’t like him anyway. He’s boorish.

He was. But Gabe suspected that’s why he found himself drawn to him.

“Where was it?”

“Down an embankment off one of the back roads. But he wasn’t inside.”

“That’s good, right?”

Gabe did not want to be the one to tell Elton that Gordon was dead.

“Maybe. He could have been disoriented and walked off the cliff. The airbag deployed, and I think there was blood on the driver’s side door. The marine rescue guys were going out at first light to see if there’s evidence he went into the water. I haven’t heard anything one way or the other yet.”

Gabriel shivered. He didn’t like to think that Gordon—or anyone— might have drowned in those cold waters.

“What do you think happened?” he asked. “Is it possible that Gordon killed Dwayne and then ran off the road?”

Lundin shook his head. “Like I said, he’s not a killer. Maybe he cuts some corners, speeds in school zones, and doesn’t say anything when a checker charges him for two donuts but he really has three—but he is not a murderer. Until I hear otherwise, I am going to assume he’s alive. The way the truck went off the road—well, if it had been going full speed, it would’ve ended up in the water, so it’s very possible he survived.”

“Okay, so he’s alive. And maybe he deliberately made it seem as if there’d been an accident. So he’s hiding out? Or what? When I met him, he told me he’d been to jail.” Gabriel knew how Elton viewed the situation but wanted to hear what Lundin had to say about it .

“That.” Lundin scoffed. “Trumped-up bullshit that he’d been attempting to grow marijuana without the right license. It’s a tragedy that he was sent away or arrested in the first place. Fucking Rizzi runs the county like he owns it. He likes to throw his weight around and for some reason, Gordon is in his sights.”

“That seems to be Elton’s opinion too. We need to find Gordon first.”

Lundin returned to the cushioned bench seat and sat down to pull a well-worn pair of lace-up leather hiking boots out from under the built-in table. He pinned Gabriel with a long, piercing look, then said, “What’s your part in all of this? You aren’t from around here. You don’t know Gordon MacDonald. What are you getting out of this?”

For fuck’s sake, the guy made it absolutely fucking impossible for Gabriel not to fantasize pushing him overboard. Splish, splash. Although then Gabe might have to endure watching him change into dry clothes, which was not the direction his thoughts needed to be headed.

“I’m worried about Gordon too,” he ground out. Probably, he needed to practice deep-breathing skills when he was around Lundin. Or avoid him entirely. The little voice that he was doing his best to ignore resisted that second idea. “We need to find him before the sheriff does.”

Gabe figured he wasn’t the right person for a full-on man hunt, but if he didn’t do something, Elton would take matters into his own hands, and Gabe didn’t like the idea of that.

The old man has some wiles, you’d better act quickly, Chance.

“What are you doing here on Heartstone Island, or in Twana County?”

Lundin had finished tying his boot and abruptly rose to his feet again, this time purposefully moving into Gabe’s space .

Intimidation was not going to work on him, no fucking way. Gabriel held his ground.

“That’s for another time. Trust me on that.”

Lundin cocked his head at Gabe. “Why do I think you’ve said that a lot in your life and not meant it?”

Gabriel shrugged with a casualness he didn’t feel. “Fine. Talk to Elton. If he wants to tell you what he knows about me, I can’t stop him. Back to the matter at hand, you say the sheriff has it in for Gordon. Any specific reasons?”

Lundin shot him one last laser glare before glancing around. He plucked a set of keys off a hook set into the paneling and held them lightly. The keys rattled against each other as he shook his hand, which made the dog jump up from its bed and run to the door.

“This conversation is going to take longer than I have right now. It’s just me in the office today and I have to at least check in.” He looked thoughtful. “If it were anyone else—and I do mean anyone—other than Elton who’d sent you my way, I’d tell you to get out of here. And, sooner rather than later too, I need to let Elton know about finding Gordon’s truck last night.”

Probably that ship had sailed, but Gabe was feeling petty and didn’t say anything.

“Aww, you’re not going to tell me to go away,” Gabriel said. “Be careful, I might start thinking you like me.”

Oh, Chance. Always the wrong ones.

“Nah, no chance.” Lundin opened a drawer and tucked a memory drive into his pocket. “Follow me to the office. Assuming Gordon isn’t dead or down the side of that cliff, I have a few ideas of where he might hide out.” Ranger Man stalked off the boat.

“Follow me to the office,” Gabe repeated. “Kiss my ass.” But even he knew that he was going to follow Lundin .

After blasting the heater in his car for the few miles it took to get to the park headquarters, Gabe found the inside of the building to be noticeably chilly. Thankfully, the first thing Lundin did after flipping on the lights was cross to the thermostat and bump the heat up.

“More coffee?” he asked, almost pleasantly.

Gabriel held up his travel mug. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.”

Lundin spun on his heel and disappeared behind a door, the dog trotting after him, leaving Gabriel to hang out alone in the front reception. The space reminded him a bit of the grocery store but without the dry goods. In addition to a rack of brochures about the local region, there were picture frames screwed into the walls with black-and-white photos of the area as White people had begun to arrive. He recognized a few of them; he’d seen them on the walls of the store.

It was kind of depressing to see pleased lumberjacks swarming over the trunk of a felled tree, so large that it took five or six men to surround it fingertip to fingertip, like it was a trophy kill. He turned away from the photos and looked out the windows instead.

“What the hell is that?” he asked. A chain-link fence with razor wire along the top extended for quite a distance, far enough that wherever it ended was obscured by trees and shrubs. Gabriel had noticed the fence when he drove in, but the security measures hadn’t registered. “What the hell is hidden back there?”

“That’s a mothballed deep-water ammunition pier. It used to be part of the fort. You know the park where I gave you a ticket for trespassing?” Lundin said as he came back into the room.

“Holy fuck. I had no idea something like that was out here.” He chose to ignore the jibe about the trespassing violation .

“Most people don’t know. I’m sure the Navy likes it that way.”

Gabriel took in the forest land on the protected side of the fencing. What he could see looked to be undisturbed foliage, healthy evergreens and rhododendron shrubs. Lush. He speculated how long the barrier had been there and how many years it had been since the last human had intruded.

“I’d love to check out what’s over there.”

“Won’t happen. A civilian won’t get access. There’s protected tribal land too, and archaeological sites. I find it horribly ironic that the military base accidentally preserved Native land. But that’s not what we’re here for.”

“Nope. I want to know where to look for Gordon.” He was curious about the history of the old base, but the past could wait for another time.

Lundin moved behind a rickety desk with a desktop monitor sitting on it, a tower tucked to the side. There was barely room for him to sit down. The computer sputtered to life, the low-pitched whine and wheeze of its fan seeming to indicate failure was imminent.

“That thing sounds like it’s on life support.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not as if the state is showering us with unlimited buckets of money.” Lundin raised his eyebrows and waited for Gabriel to start talking.

“Tell me about the sheriff too, what’s his deal? Elton said to ask you, so against my better judgment, here I am.”

Eyes narrowed, Lundin stared up at Gabriel long enough that Gabe started to feel uncomfortable and did his best not to twitch.

“I’m guessing Elton told you about Mickie?”

Gabe shook his head. “Nope. Who’s Mickie?”

Lundin stared at him as if debating what he would share with Gabriel about this Mickie person. Then he sighed and shook his head. “My half brother. He’s in prison for the murder of his girlfriend, thanks to fucking Rizzi. I don’t think he did it—I know he didn’t do it. But Rizzi holds all the power here, and he’s damn careful. I haven’t been able to prove anything, but either he’s dirty or some of his deputies are. Mickie was a convenient scapegoat for somebody.”

“Okay, but is Rizzi crooked enough to knock off his own nephew for some reason?”

Before he’d finally managed to fall asleep last night, Gabe’s thoughts had been about Dwayne Perkins. Were Elton and Lundin both wrong? Had Gordon MacDonald snapped and murdered the other man? And the worst: Was someone out there thinking that Gabriel could just as easily take the fall for it? But how would anyone have known he would be the one to find the body?

No one would, he assured himself, but worry still nagged at him.

Lundin’s lips were pressed into a thin line and the glow of the computer screen gave his face and beard a weird hue. “There’s not much I wouldn’t put past him.”

“That’s a firm… maybe. Does that mean he’d kill Dwayne or, I suppose, have someone else do it? I need more than ‘Sheriff Rizzi holds all the power.’ I don’t have much experience with sheriffs, but having a lot of local power probably isn’t that unusual. Why would the sheriff—or his minions, I guess—kill off Perkins? How does Gordon fit into this? Why was Perkins on his property? What do they gain by framing Gordon?”

It seemed to Gabe that it could be something about the land Gordon owned. But frankly, in the short time he’d been there, Gabe had basically seen a falling-down shack with a murder victim inside of it, so anything else he might have noticed had been overshadowed by Dwayne’s corpse.

Now Lundin looked up at him. “My answer will always be, follow the money. If Rizzi is somehow involved, it’s about money.”

Gabe held back a laugh. “That’s my line. Finally, something we agree on. So, Which is it? Does Rizzi need money? Or does he want money? Because those are two different motivations. And again, why would he target Gordon?”

Lundin quickly typed, his fingers flying over the keys. A password, maybe. Who knew? Gabriel thought it possible he was stalling while he came up with an answer for Gabe’s question.

“What do you expect from me on this? Why all the questions?”

That was a surprise. Wasn’t it obvious? Did the man have no soul?

“I’m expecting you to be the stand-up guy Elton thinks you are. And that person wouldn’t leave a friend’s fate in the hands of the kind of person Rizzi sounds like he is. That person would be the kind of guy who does the right thing.”

He could almost hear his mother laughing at his words, but he meant every one of them.

Lundin didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he shifted in the desk chair, leaned to the side, and pulled a slim three-ring binder out of the top drawer, opening it to the first page. From where Gabe was standing, it looked to be a list of phone numbers. Lundin ran his finger down the list until he stopped at Waste Management.

“Again, why are you here? Specifically on Heartstone? You need to give me a reason to trust you.”

Fucking hell.

“Fuck you, I told you,” he blustered, wanting to avoid the Heartstone-specific question. “I offered to poke around and instead of tracking Gordon down, I was lucky enough to find a dead person.”

“And how do I know it wasn’t you who killed Dwayne?” Ranger Man asked. “I heard he had a run-in with someone at the Sinclair’s.”

Gabriel blinked and stared at Lundin, fairly sure his mouth was gaping open as well. He snapped it shut and considered his reply.

“It’s good to confirm that news travels fast around here, but what happened Tuesday was all on those two. What motive would I have to kill Perkins? I didn’t know the guy,” he shot back.

“You didn’t have to know him to want to kill him,” Lundin muttered almost under his breath. “But more about you, Gabriel Logan Karne, birthday May 15, 1981.”

Gabe blinked. Why hadn’t it occurred to him that Ranger Lundin would be the one to stick his nose into Gabriel’s business? Business he preferred stayed unknown. The ominous feeling he’d been ignoring for the past few days turned to a fist-sized stone in his stomach.

“I did a little research on you the other day.”

“Why would you do that?” Gabe ground out.

Ranger Man leaned back in the rickety chair. Maliciously, Gabriel hoped it would collapse underneath him and end the conversation. Sadly, the chair held.

“Because,” Lundin said, “as you have realized, Elton Cox is someone I count as a friend, and I won’t let a friend be taken advantage of. I think you have a history of taking advantage. And again, just to be clear as glass, I don’t trust you.”

They locked gazes. A long minute passed. Gabriel narrowed his eyes, but Lundin was impervious. He tried to feel wounded by the fact that Lundin didn’t trust him, but honestly, he wouldn’t if he were in Ranger Man’s shoes.

“I promise you that I am not taking advantage of Elton.” Gabe ran his hand through his hair again, a move that seemed to be turning into a habit. “He was a friend of my mother’s back in the day. Before I was born.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And that doesn’t tell me why you’re up here on Heartstone, eating meals with him, staying in his house. You’ve never visited. He would have mentioned it to me.”

“Because some asshole wouldn’t let me stay in the park,” Gabriel retorted. “And Elton is nice enough to offer me shelter and smart enough to know I don’t have any evil plans for him. And he liked my mother. Which, if you’d ever met her, is a feat in itself.”

Lundin laughed. A real laugh. He had a nice, deep chuckle. Admittedly, it was a bit rusty, as if he didn’t use it much, and Gabe wanted to hear it again. If he hadn’t been so on edge, he might have laughed along with Lundin. But he was too anxious.

That background check might bring the Colavitos directly to Heartstone. Sucking a breath in, he tried to decide what he could say, how he could explain away whatever Lundin had found.

“What did your research tell you?” Gabe’s pulse was racing. What had Casey searched for? Because if Ranger Man alerted the Colavitos to Gabe’s location, they were all in danger, and Gabe literally had nowhere left to go to ground.

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“Oh, my fucking god!” Gabe threw up his hands in frustration. “Are you one of those people? The type that always answers a question with a question? Frankly, I’m shocked you haven’t ended up in some shitty spider-infested shed with a round hole in your head. I’m here because I made a mistake, okay? A stupid one, and some”—he waved a hand—“bad people would like to find me and fit me with cement shoes or whatever it is the mob does these days. I want to know what you found out because if they learn where I am, I need to get the hell out of here.”

“Did you just threaten me?” Even though he was sitting behind the desk, Lundin seemed ready to pounce.

Gabe had to rewind the words he’d just spouted. Right, spider-infested shed, shot in the head. Could be construed as a threat.

“No, that was just a fantasy.” This time he did step back from the desk a few inches. “Relax. I assure you, you’ll know when I’m threatening you.”

Gabe inhaled a lungful of oxygen, forcing himself to breathe. He reminded himself that it was good that Lundin cared about Elton, and Gordon too. Cared enough to check up on a random stranger. Lundin was the kind of person who kept an eye out for the people he considered friends—and that was all he was doing. Gabriel understood too well just how easy it was to take advantage of people, even those who thought they knew better.

“Look, I’ll admit that I’m not the nicest guy on the planet, and I don’t know what you may or may not have found in your research, but I mean Elton no harm. I promise.”

He was beginning to suspect that Lundin hadn’t found anything concrete, which was good. But had he found something that tied Gabriel to Peter? If Lundin pinged Peter, could the Colavitos use that to find him?

In less than a week, Gabe cared more about Elton and Gordon than the life he’d left behind. And, he added spitefully, the dog curled up in the corner. Lundin—who he cared less than nothing about, honest—may have fucked it all up with a tap of a computer key.

“I genuinely want to find Gordon. Alive. Before the sheriff gets to him. Because you know as well as I do that he will be the first, and maybe last”—except for Gabe, of course—“ person they will look at. I only met the guy once, and you’ve heard about that, but he seemed like a nice enough person.”

They stared at each other in an impasse of sorts. For reasons he wasn’t examining too much, Gabriel wanted Lundin to believe him. He had no idea what Lundin wanted.

“I’ll take your word—for now. But step one toe out of line and I’ll contact a friend who works for the district attorney’s office in Seattle,” Lundin warned with a growl.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Alright, tough guy. If I step one toe out of line, you can kick me off the island.”

“So, your mother was a friend of Elton’s? Huh. I know he has no family. I mean, he was married a long time ago, but they divorced in the ’70s, and there were no kids. What’s the Ticket got to do with all of this?” Again, Lundin was not asking Gabe, he was demanding that he share the information.

Gabriel sighed, already hating this new non-grifter leaf he was turning over. Eyeing Lundin, he tried to decide what was need-to-share and what information Lundin had to earn. Toes out of line or not, Gabe didn’t owe the guy his unabridged life story. He hardly knew him. Even if Elton thought he shit gold bricks, Lundin would have to prove himself too.

Fine.

“My mother wrote me a letter that I received after she died. Aside from leading me here, to Elton, I learned about The Golden Ticket . From what I now understand, because believe me it’s been a long fucking few days and a lot has been sprung on me, the sailboat had been my father’s, which is why I don’t have a deed. Never met him anyway. But Mom paid moorage for it all these years while Elton watched over it. I’ll tell you right now, it’s the only sentimental thing she ever did.” That last part Lundin didn’t need to know, but it spilled out anyway.

“I’ve always wondered why Elton kept that boat,” Lundin said thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. “Where is the paperwork? When I asked, he wouldn’t give me a straight answer. Just ‘when the time comes’ kind of thing.”

Served the asshole right. And proved, if Gabriel had needed more proof, that Elton was a good person.

“Elton called the person who does hold the deed,” Gabe informed him. “My biological father was apparently her nephew, something like that.” He waved a hand to indicate his high level of having no fucks to give. “There’s a lot of family shit that, frankly, I’ve never had to deal with. It was always me and my mother, that’s all. But the Ticket is mine and supposedly the deed is on its way.”

Gabe stared hard at Lundin and narrowed his eyes as realization hit him. “Wouldn’t you know who the owner was? Isn’t there some fucking marina website to register on?”

“I’ve never had reason to look,” Lundin said with a slight twitch of his lips. “It wasn’t any of my business.”

So the demand was just a way to harass him. Gabe took back all the halfway nice thoughts he’d had about the guy. Fine. They didn’t need to be friends, that wasn’t how the game was played. He could just as easily ogle someone who hated him.

“Now that I’ve shared my dark secrets, are you going to tell me what’s really going on between you and the sheriff? Was the evidence against your brother faked or something?”

Lundin barked out a laugh. “Yeah, like I said before, not this morning. And I’m pretty sure you only shared what you had to in order to get me off your back.”

Oh, he’s a quick one, Chance.

However, Ranger Man’s reply implied that he might be more willing to share more at another time. Gabe could work with that.

“Okay…. So,” Gabe began, “Gordon’s missing, possibly floating out to sea. Dwayne Perkins is dead. Ne ither you nor Elton think Gordon is responsible. From what I know, I tend to agree.”

Lundin nodded. “That seems to sum it up. Look, I don’t particularly like you, but I feel the need to warn you to be careful if you decide to keep poking around. The sheriff is not to be messed with.”

Gabe almost told Lundin that he didn’t like him either but restrained himself. He wasn’t eight and they weren’t in elementary school. Instead, he chose the high road. Rising from the uncomfortable chair he slipped his hands into his pockets, doing his best to look up to good.

“Noted. How friendly were you with Gordon? Any fresh ideas where he might be if he hasn’t already met the same fate as Dwayne? If you could come up with a list, I’ll get out of your hair.”

The computer binged, indicating emails arriving or some other notification. Lundin frowned at the screen for a minute and then dragged his attention back to Gabriel.

“Excuse me. More bureaucratic bullshit I have to deal with before my day really starts.” He squinted at the screen, clicked something, and looked back at Gabriel, shooting him another hard look. How many of those did he have stored away? “You should probably keep your nose out of trouble.” His tone was somehow both condescending and scolding. “Oh, and,” Lundin added, “I’ll be the one to tell Elton about finding Gordon’s truck.”

Gabriel shot Lundin another glance of disgust. The urge to inflict some sort of incidental violence rose like a fucking king tide. Maybe he’d find a Sharpie and vandalize The Barbara with childish graffiti. Except the Barbara was a pretty boat and didn’t deserve it.

“Good luck with that. The cops were planning on being at his place this morning to take his statement. They’re probably there right now.”

Turning on his heel, Gabe left the building and was rewarded by a reverberating bang when he slammed the door shut behind him.

Until he heard otherwise, he’d keep looking for Gordon on his own. It was better than stewing about the other trouble he was in.