Carla Neggers - The Harbor

"That's what the police said-there could be a witness. I don't know, though. It's pretty quiet on the docks. It's so dark and cold-" She sniffled, looking a little embarrassed. "I don't know why I'm this upset. It's not as if anyone was hurt or there was any serious damage. There's no reason to think there's any connection-" she hesitated, then continued as if she wished she hadn't started "-with anything."

"I'm glad they didn't get into my apartment," Kyle said. "All my materials for my documentary are in the living room, right out in the open."

Christina angled a look at him. "The police think whoever did it was after cash, not your documentary." There was no sharpness in her tone. "Still, who knows. None of this makes sense. I suppose I could have caught the attention of some creep now that I'm running a busi-ness-oh, who knows."

J.B. knew what she meant. Speculation only brought more speculation, but it was always a temptation to run various scenarios. He thought of Teddy Shelton and wondered if the police would be talking to him. "I'd like to run down there and see what's what. Can I do anything for you?"

She shook her head, her smile stronger this time. "No, but thanks. Well, one thing-make sure my sister doesn't push too hard? She's bad enough when she has to play by the rules. Now she's just a regular person."

"I'll do what I can."

He left. He'd had only two bites of his lobster roll, but he wasn't hungry-or all that fond of lobster, which he kept to himself.

When J.B. got to the town docks, the police had gone. Zoe was sitting on the hood of her VW Beetle staring out at the dark harbor. It was a clear night, starlit, a sliver of a moon sparkling on the quiet water. J.B. could hear the endless whoosh of the tide. It'd be just past high tide now. He was becoming accustomed to its rhythms. Western Montana and the isolated alpine meadow his father had loved seemed far away, a part of a life J.B. wasn't even sure anymore had really been his. He'd left at eighteen and only went back for summers in college to work as a fishing and hiking guide. He landed in Washington, D.C., as a low-level state department worker, then decided on a career in the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He did field work out west, then ended up back in Washington.

His life wasn't anything like Zoe West's.

He parked a little way down from her and got out, but before he'd even shut his door, the old guy, the retired judge, was on him. "Agent McGrath? I'm Steven Monroe. My friends call me Stick. I'm a longtime friend of the West family." He spoke clearly and precisely despite his clenched-jaw look. "You can count me among those who don't appreciate your attitude or your presence here."

J.B. shut his door. "Okay." Monroe didn't react. "The break-in yesterday at

Christina's house and today at her café-I think they happened because of you. I checked you out. You should be in a treatment center, not in a town where good people are trying to put a terrible experience behind them."

"I'm not getting into it with you, Judge."

"Don't hold Christina and Zoe West hostage to your personal agenda. Don't stir up trouble here so you don't have to think about what happened to you this summer."

J.B. shrugged. "Okay. Anything else?"

Monroe inhaled through his nose and tilted his head back. He had to be aware of Zoe on her VW hood, but he gave no indication of it. "You're a smart-mouthed prick, aren't you?"

"Isn't retirement fun? You can say stuff like that. It's cold out." J.B. glanced at the guy's corduroy shorts. "Your knees have goose bumps."

"Just because you're fucking FBI-"

"There it is again. What do you think? Should it be ‘you're FBI'? Or ‘you're the FBI'?" J.B. ignored the guy's hiss of irritation. "I know it's not ‘you're fucking FBI.' That's disrespectful." His voice softened. "Even from a retired judge who's just looking out for his friends."

"They've had a difficult year."

"I can see that. Need a ride anywhere?"

Monroe gave a tight shake of his head. He was white-haired, with age spots on his face and hands, but in good shape. "I like to walk." He left without another word.

J.B. walked over to Zoe, who glanced sideways at him and smiled without any humor or obvious pleasure. "You sure know how to make friends around here, don't you, McGrath?" The temperature had dropped precipitously with nightfall, but she didn't seem to be cold. "You missed all the excitement."

"I saw Christina at Perry's." "She's okay?" He nodded. "Just upset. Kyle Castellane's with her." Only a faint lift of her eyebrows suggested Zoe wasn't reassured. "Bruce?" "He didn't offer to fix her door this time. Went home to his dogs." "Don't feel sorry for him. Half the women in Goose

Harbor are in love with him." "All over fifty," J.B. said. She almost managed a laugh. "The café'll be fine overnight. There's nothing to take. You get to Kyle's apartment through the café, but he has a locked door." "Witnesses?" "I'd hoped so, but it's not looking good." She slid down off the hood, her shirt riding up and exposing a few inches of pale midriff. "Do you have any idea what's going on? What about this Teddy Shelton character?"

"You tell the police about him?" "No. I wasn't sure-" "I'm on vacation, Zoe. I'm not on a case." "Right, your ancestors and all that." He decided this still wasn't the time to bring up his grandmother. Zoe stabbed a toe at a loose pebble on the pavement, her shoulders hunched against the cold. J.B.

thought she looked alone, a woman with the world on her shoulders. He wondered if she'd left behind a boyfriend in Connecticut.

"Shelton spent seven years in federal prison on a weapons conviction. He got out last summer. Who knows, he could have picked Goose Harbor because he wanted to smell the ocean air after sitting in a cell." J.B. sat on the hood, placing his hands next to him on the cool metal. "I thought he might be following you." He related the three times he'd spotted Shelton.

"Is that why you were at the nature preserve?"

He nodded. "I don't know, maybe I'm just bored. The guy could just be getting his act together. I'm sure the locals know about him."

"If Bruce is renting him that damn shack of his, you bet they do. My father wanted the town to condemn it. Bruce says he wants to renovate it-with a match, maybe. Burn it down, collect the insurance." She smiled, a little more genuinely this time. "Not that I'm encouraging arson or that it'd even enter Bruce's mind."

"I'm getting a cold butt." J.B. stood up from the hood. "You heading back?"

"I guess I should. I'm just getting cold out here. I suppose you don't have a bed for the night?"

"My boat. No food, either. I didn't finish my lobster roll. I like it better with a little tarragon."

"Tarragon? That's disgusting. Must be a Montana thing."

"Actually, I got the idea from a restaurant in Kennebunkport."

"One that caters to Montanans." But her humor was only fleeting, and she glanced back at her sister's café, crossed her arms tightly over her chest and shivered. "Bad guys everywhere, even here in Goose Harbor. My father tried to pretend he had it easy-no murders during his tenure as chief. Until his own."

"Zoe-"

She turned to him, the moonlight shining in her eyes. "I'm staying at Aunt Olivia's house tonight. I have to sometime or another, and my sister and Kyle-I'm not going to think about it. She said if she needs to, she'll camp out with me." She sighed, and J.B. saw how pretty she was, despite her obvious stress. "You can have your room from last night. I have a bad enough reputation with the FBI without letting one of its finest sleep on a decrepit lobster boat."

He didn't know why, but he tucked one finger under her chin. "I can tackle any bad guys that come your way."

"I'm not that out of practice, McGrath." She eased around to the driver's side of her car and opened the door, looking over it at him. "I can still tackle my own bad guys."