Black Tide Rising by R.J. McMillen Read Free Book Online Page B

couple of years: advising a known criminal to leave the scene.”
    â€œFuck off, Walker. I’m just trying to help here. You don’t like talking to them any more than they like talking to you.”
    â€œTrue.” Walker nodded. “And you’re right. Maybe I’ll go find Sanford and his folks. Tell them what’s happened.”
    â€œGood idea,” Dan agreed. “Better make it soon. The boys could arrive any time.”
    â€”
    The “boys” arrived twenty minutes after Walker left. They were neither the RCMP West Coast Marine Division nor the coast guard, but a couple of constables from the Gold River detachment, who tied their boat to the wharf and headed straight up to the lighthouse. Gene met them at the door.
    â€œHi, George. Parker. Figured it might be you two. Don’t think you’ve met Jens yet. He’s the new assistant lightkeeper. Came here when Walter retired.”
    The two men nodded at Jens.
    â€œAnd this is Dan Connor. He just stopped by on his way up north. He’s one of your guys. At least, he used to be. He’s been helping with the search.”
    George and Parker—Gene didn’t share their last names and their heavy parkas hid their name tags—shook Dan’s hand with the odd mixture of reticence and camaraderie reserved by serving police for those who had left the force.
    â€œYou here when they discovered her missing?” George asked Dan. He was a dark, heavyset man with a square jaw, thick neck, and steeply sloping shoulders that suggested he spent a lot of time in the gym.
    â€œNo. I arrived here around nine this morning,” Dan answered. “That’s my boat out in the cove. Came up to the lighthouse to introduce myself to Gene and Mary.”
    â€œHuh.” George appeared to lose interest in Dan and turned back to Gene. “You checked the cove? Everywhere she might have gone?”
    Gene nodded. “Yeah. Dan and I checked the church and the house and studio down there. Mary and Dan checked Jens’s place and the workshop.”
    â€œYou didn’t find any sign of her?”
    â€œNot exactly.” Gene shot an awkward glance at Jens.
    â€œSounds like maybe you did find something,” George said, his gaze sharpening.
    â€œYeah, well, not really.” Gene was obviously uncomfortable talking in front of Jens. “What we found was the old totem. Someone had dragged it out onto the beach and destroyed it.”
    â€œYou can’t be serious!” Mary stared at him in shock. “You said it was damaged, but destroyed? Margrethe would never do that. It must have been one of those people that were here on the weekend.” She turned to George. “There were a bunch of them: kayakers, boaters, hikers from the trail.”
    Gene shook his head. “The damage is too new. And we found some blood. It was still tacky.”
    â€œBlood?” The news was greeted by a chorus of horrified voices. One of them belonged to Jens.
    â€œI’m sorry, Jens,” Gene said. “I didn’t want to tell you.”
    â€œOh God.” Jens collapsed into a chair. “Oh God.”
    â€”
    Gene and Dan led the two constables down to the beach and pointed out the mutilated totem and the blood on the driftwood. The constables returned to their boat and used their radio to call back to the detachment and request assistance. Dan shook his head. He knew they were following procedure—they were constables, not detectives—but it meant the trail of footprints would have completely disappeared by the time investigators arrived. It also meant he would have to spend even more time here, unable to do anything practical and surrounded by feelings of fear and grief that brought unwanted memories of Susan surging back.
    â€œI’m going to head back to my boat,” he said to them. “There are things I need to be doing.”
    â€œYou need to stay here until the detectives