Dwayne Reed held the responsibility of leadership comfortably on his shoulders and she’d do well to keep her eyes on her own paper and not worry about his.

  Metaphorically.

  A point that she’d do well to remember against her earlier flights of fancy, too. There was nothing to gain by looking at Arlo’s deep blue eyes or slim waist or appealing height as he stood beside her in the elevator.

  This was her shot and the reminder to keep her eyes on her own paper applied to attraction, too. Even more so than worrying about the captain.

  The discussion with Reed filled her thoughts once more and gave her focus. Once Arlo came back, she’d offer to keep up the grunt work running down the boat’s ownership and free him up for whatever else he needed to do.

  She wasn’t afraid of hard work. And while she had no expectation they’d find out the owner was one of the murdered men, they’d at least have a trail to follow.

  Arlo left the office, closing the door behind him, and headed her way.

  That lingering shot of awareness floated through her. Damn it, how was the man’s walk even sexy? But with force of will, Kerrigan tamped it down and focused on the tasks that lay ahead.

  “I hope you don’t mind I waited. I can head down to the squad room and start on the boat research.”

  “Yeah, about that.”

  “You’d rather I did something else?”

  “Actually, I was thinking your expertise on the water meant you had to have some familiarity with boats.”

  Once again, he’d caught her off guard. She hadn’t come into this assignment thinking she’d be dismissed, but she also hadn’t expected to be taken on as such a partner. Yet here they were, and Arlo seemed genuinely interested in tapping into her knowledge.

  “Well, yeah. I mean, we train on all types of watercraft and I also grew up near the water. My dad has a boat. My uncles have boats.” She smiled as she thought of her big family and weekends throughout the summers of her life spent on the water. “I have a pretty decent working knowledge.”

  “Know any boat sellers we can go talk to? I want to get a sense of how someone could essentially make a major asset with serial numbers, ownership and documented provenance disappear out of any and all databases. Because I’ve been running that boat for a few days and nothing’s coming up.”

  Her mind was already whirling with the possibilities, but there really was only one choice. “Let’s go see Big Will at Brooklyn Yacht.”

  “Big Will?”

  “Yep. Big Will Gentry. The man’s six-nine and about three hundred and fifty pounds.” At Arlo’s widened gaze, she rushed on. “He’s a gentle giant. He’s owned the business for about forty years. His father owned it at least thirty more before him. Rumor has it his sons will be taking over but Will’s not too excited to retire.”

  “Let’s go.”

  The rain that had blanketed the city for a week like a thick, soupy mess had given way to a perfect fall day as they headed out of the precinct and toward Arlo’s car.

  “Did the rest of the meeting go okay with the captain?”

  At the sound of the locks unclicking, she pulled open the passenger-side door, cursing herself for diving straight in. His meeting with Captain Reed was none of her business.

  And just because it happened after their debriefing didn’t mean it had anything to do with her.

  Arlo didn’t respond right away, as he buckled in and then navigated out of the 86th’s parking lot. It wasn’t until he’d reached the entrance to the highway, heading onto the expressway, that he spoke. “The captain’s good with you working this case, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I’m not usually so—” She sighed, letting the words fade away.

  She wasn’t so what?

  Wishy-washy?

  Afraid of going after what she wanted?

  Attracted to her coworkers? A small voice whispered that at the end.

  “Not so what?” Arlo asked, his gaze, blessedly, on the late-morning traffic.

  “I know my value and I know what I want, Detective. I’m a hard worker and I’ve wanted to be a cop since I was a kid. I’m just afraid it’ll be taken away and that’s on me to figure out how to navigate.”

  “Taken away how?”

  “You’ve got a reputation for being the best. And I’m thrilled and terrified to be partnered with you. I want to do my best.”

  There.

  It was out. All the way out. Or most of it, anyway. The failing-him part did terrify her.

  And the rest?

  Well, she’d manage the attraction. She had no choice.

  * * *

  It had been a long time since he’d trained someone so new, but Arlo still remembered his own feelings at that stage of his life. The ones that had pushed him to be the best and terrified him, both at the same time.

  It wasn’t a comfortable place to be. Arlo recalled the push-pull of emotions vividly, but it was necessary to progress in the job.

  To keep moving forward.

  Which was why he wasn’t going to BS her or dismiss her questions. “Captain Reed is good with you on this.”

  “Why do I sense a but in there?”

  “Because he’s worried about the really dark, violent overtones of this case.”

  Dwayne’s words had haunted him since he’d walked out of the man’s office. He hadn’t quite gotten his equilibrium back yet.

  And to be done like that? Cold-blooded shots to the back of the head, execution-style?

  Arlo had tried to shake it off, but even the bright, sunny day couldn’t chase away the darkness on this one.

  “He doesn’t think I can handle it?”

  “Not at all. But it’s his job to carry the burden of leadership over his squad. And I can tell you straight, he’s worried.”

  Traffic was heavy, but moving, and Arlo risked a quick glance over at her. Her mouth was set in a grim line, the good-natured smiles of earlier vanished.

  “I can understand that. The weight of responsibility on him must be enormous.”

  He heard the hesitation beneath her words and opted to keep quiet, giving her time to puzzle through the details.

  “I just have to ask if he’d be as worried if it were Jayden on the team. Or any other male colleague, for that matter.”

  “I get why you have to ask, but I’ve known Dwayne Reed a long time. He’s fair and he plays it straight without consideration of gender. What I haven’t seen much of in all that time is this level of concern over a case.”

  Or he hadn’t, Arlo admitted to himself, if he didn’t count the Damson job.

  “Any murder would raise questions. What was on that boat?” Kerrigan let out a long, low sigh. “It’s brutality on a whole different scale.”

  “Which is the cap’s point.”

  In another ten minutes they’d cleared the traffic and were exiting for Sheepshead Bay. Kerrigan navigated him through the streets toward the water and in the distance he saw the sign for Brooklyn Yacht.

  “This is a bit late to ask, but I’m assuming Big Will sells more than yachts.”

  “Most definitely. He’s probably sold a quarter of all the pleasure boats in the area.”

  Arlo pulled into a spot in front of the entrance and glanced around as he got out of the car. He’d always been an observer, a skill that had set him up well as a cop, but he’d honed the practice over nearly fifteen years on the force.

  Sunlight glinted off several boats visible in the docks behind the building. They shimmered in the distance, floating on the water.

  “What did they do during the storms?” Arlo nodded his head toward the docks as Kerrigan met him around the back of the car.

  “Same thing anyone else with a boat does. Tie down what they can and pray for the best.”

  “Sounds like a tough way to make a living.”

  “Big Will has a good business. He’s got volume on his side, which also helps. But the small mom-and-pops? It’s definitely a challenge but they put up with it.” Kerrigan grinned then, that smile lighting up her face before settling deep in her eyes. “People who love the water really love the water.”

  “A fact you, Trumball and the rest of you harbor nuts prove every single day.”

  The heavy moments in the car seemed to have faded as she tilted her head toward the building. “Come on. Let’s go find Will.”

  Arlo followed her into the cavernous showroom and was amused to realize it had a similar look and feel as a car dealership. Which only reinforced that, regardless of a person’s reason for buying a boat, it was still a vehicle that got you from point A to point B.

  “Kerrigan!” The bellow emanated from the back of the showroom mere seconds before a large man who could be no one other than “Big Will” emerged from an office.

  Arlo’s first thought was that the man was aptly named. His second was the clear and obvious affection between Big Will and his newest partner.

  After a quick round of introductions and a confirmation from Kerrigan that they were there on official police business, Will waved them both into his office and shut the door.

  “That was some bad business that went down in the harbor.” Will shook his head. “And your team found the bodies.”

  “We were assigned to the recovery, yes.”

  “You know about the downed boat, sir?” Arlo pressed.

  It wasn’t a surprise, exactly, but it did mean news of the drug smugglers’ demise had moved into the community quickly.

  “Word travels.” Will shrugged. “And a boat like that going down? There’s interest.”

  “Will, if you know anything that can help us, we’d appreciate it.” Kerrigan’s respect for the man was obvious, but so was her tenacity to do the job right. “We’ll do our best to keep your name out of it, but if you know something, we need to know.”

  The man was at least seventy and he’d clearly spent many of those years out on the water. Time, sun and water had weathered his face into craggy lines, but knowledge was a bright beacon in his blue eyes.

  “I’ll help however I can but let me guess. No serial numbers?”

  Kerrigan remained silent, leaving a confirmation to Arlo. Even more impressive, she didn’t turn toward him for verification. Instead, she was all cop, handling official business with her partner. It was a reminder of why she’d gotten this opportunity in the first place. And whether she stayed on the water or eventually moved inside the precinct, Arlo had no doubt the woman would make a damn fine detective.

  She was cool where it mattered, and her instincts were rock-solid.

  Taking advantage of the runway she’d already created, Arlo nodded his head. “No, sir. All provenance was removed. We have reason to believe that was handled by the current owner before going out on the water.”

  Will’s inhale was sharp, his expression grim. “We don’t keep track of everything we sell after it leaves here. I’d expect other sellers are the same, but the rumors in the business are strong. Word has it a drug-smuggling ring has been trying to get its hooks into the local trade. My sons and I have been careful. We do all the standard credit checks, but we’ve been keeping a close eye on new buyers.”

  “You think smugglers are working with boats from around here?”

  Even as he asked the question, Arlo recognized the situation carried the potential for even bigger problems than they already faced.

  A local smuggling ring?

  He had no reason to doubt Will, but he was going to have a few words with his colleagues in Vice. How the hell was it possible an entirely new node on the drug trade was operating and no one had caught wind of it? All too often, it felt like they were just trying to keep up. But this? How could this level of crime go so completely unnoticed?

  “No.” Will shook his head. “The boats are likely coming up from farther south. Somewhere along the way they’re going through the standard chop-shop process, retrofitting amped-up engine parts and erasing serial numbers and key markings.”

  Once again, the sheer ingenuity of criminals never failed to both impress and dismay. And proved, as always, there were people who wanted to live in the shadows.

  “I really do appreciate your taking the time to talk to us.”

  “For you?” Will beamed at Kerrigan. “Anytime. And I will keep an eye out. I can promise you my sons will, too. There’s too much crime in our city as it is. Polluting the water with this sort of bad goings-on?” Will let out a low whistle. “It’s immoral.”

  “I wish there were more who felt just like you, sir.”

  Will took the acknowledgment in stride and promised to share anything else he might think of. With a quick light returning to his gaze, he offered to show Kerrigan a new addition to his fleet and Arlo waved them on.

  Although he knew next to nothing about boats, Arlo took his time strolling around the showroom. Their proximity to lunchtime meant the place was pretty empty, but he saw a well-dressed woman on the far side of the room talking to an older couple.

  Keeping his head down, he made a show of casually looking at a few of the speeders they had positioned around the large show floor. Beyond identifying the ship’s wheel and the throttle, he had very little understanding of what he was looking at.

  Which gave him that much more time to surveil the rest of the building.

  Additional offices ran along the back wall, adjacent to Will’s office. A small kitchen was visible in the back corner, and he saw someone puttering around at the sink, clearly occupied with their task.

  Everything appeared in order. A prosperous business managing through a quiet part of their day.

  He went back to perusing the boats, feigning interest as he waited for Kerrigan. Despite recognizing very little, he nearly missed the movement in the back of the showroom. Would have missed it, Arlo suddenly realized, if he’d stared any longer at the list of manufacturer upgrades posted on the side of the boat.

  But whatever it was that grabbed his attention, once caught, he listened to his instincts that something was off.

  A younger man, not nearly as tall as Will but still a familial match, stepped out of the office beside his father’s. He glanced at Will’s open door, obviously hesitating, then ducked into the office on the other side.

  Arlo didn’t like jumping to conclusions, but he couldn’t deny his interest when the man not only shut the office door behind him, but also snapped the floor-to-ceiling shades covering the office window closed.

  A closed office meeting wasn’t a crime.

  Far from it.

  But he’d already been curious when Big Will shared that he knew about the sunk boat and the bodies in the harbor and rumors of a new drug-smuggling ring.

  Now his son was holding closed-door meetings the moment their father stepped out of sight.

  With the other son Kerrigan mentioned?

  Was it a coincidence?

  Kerrigan’s smile was bright as she walked back into the showroom from the dock area. She hadn’t seen the man slip into that other office and he considered asking her about it.

  “You ready to go?” she asked.

  “Where’s Will?”

  “He got into a discussion with one of his mechanics. I let him know I could see myself out.”

  Arlo glanced once more at that closed office door and considered saying something right there, but then thought better of it.

  He had no concerns about Kerrigan’s honesty, but maybe it was time to do some digging on Big Will and his sons.

  Not every hunch paid off.

  But one that carried dark insinuations about her friends? Well, he’d handle that alone, come what may.

  Arlo shook off the small stabs of guilt as he and Kerrigan walked out of the showroom.

  His decision was made, and he’d do what he had to do.

  Chapter 4

  Kerrigan walked the perimeter of the boat debris spread out with numbered markers noting various pieces of evidence. She had several afternoon dives, but opted to start her day looking at what the salvage team had hauled up from the harbor floor.

  She had her memories and what she’d observed on the dive, but it was time to look at the drug runners’ boat in the light.

  The evidence-management team worked around her, and she was careful to keep her distance to avoid any risk of contamination, but what they’d managed in only a few days was impressive. The sheer volume of items and boat debris laid out in a cavernous room of the evidence warehouse was stunning.

  The port side of the hull was mostly intact, and it had been placed at the far end of the warehouse. She’d spoken briefly with an arson investigator brought in from the fire department who was consulting on the work as they’d walked it together. The woman’s congenial approach and willingness to share what she knew had been a good start to the morning. It had given Kerrigan a few things to consider as she now navigated the pieces that had already been separated from the boat.

  Namely, that the majority of the damage was isolated on the starboard side, along with the bodies. More to hide? Kerrigan wondered. Or had they just run out of time?

  It was the starboard-side pieces where she was standing now.

  Recovery photos had already been sent to her and Arlo, the first step by the evidence team before any aspect of the boat was touched or pulled apart. Although they would continue to photograph and record as the boat was reviewed and, in places, disassembled, those initial photos were the best record of what actually came off the harbor floor.

  She’d studied them late into the night, now trying to associate the pieces before her with what she remembered in the images.

  “It’s a massive job.”

 

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