Maggie K. Black - Deadline

And he’d already risked his career to see this killer exposed.

No, her reluctance to see her name in print wasn’t actually going to stop him from writing this article. It didn’t matter, couldn’t matter, how beautiful her face was, or what kind of heartstrings it tugged in him when she looked up into his eyes. He had a responsibility to report the truth, and that’s what he was going to do. Besides, it wasn’t as if he needed quotes from her. Once they both filed their police reports, all he had to do was report whatever the police said, and then he had a story.

Dear Lord, please help her to understand it isn’t personal. I’m just a man with a job to do.

He checked the life ring for damage and found a crack as long as his palm. The ferry wouldn’t want it back. He tossed it into the Dumpster. Then he followed her across the street.

She was standing in front of the diner window. When he noticed that her shoulders were shaking, his heart dropped. Was she crying? Had he really upset her that deeply? He stepped closer, his heart lifting unexpectedly as the bubbly sound of laughter filled his ears. Her eyes were alight with joy at a joke whose source he couldn’t begin to guess.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “You know how Kenny said my brother was arrested for stealing a dog?” She tapped her fingers on the glass. “Look.”

Two men were sitting in a booth by the window. One was a middle-aged, uniformed cop with a bushy red mustache. The other was built like a lumberjack with a short brown beard and blue eyes that twinkled as he glanced up and saw Meg. Her brother? Probably. A Siberian-husky puppy sat on the seat beside him. The men took turns feeding it bits of donut.

“Come on. Come meet my brother.” She ran through the doorway, sending the bells chiming and crashing as she went, and Jack had to grab the door with his fingertips to keep it from closing on him.

Benji pushed the dog onto the floor, where it slid under the table. Meg dropped into the booth beside her brother.

“Sis!” Her brother’s voice boomed through the room. “You look half-drowned. What happened? Why didn’t I see you get off the ferry? And where on earth are your shoes?”

Meg glanced around the crowded diner. The light dimmed from her eyes, replaced by a look so serious the smiles instantly faded from the men’s faces. “How about you settle up the tab, and then I’ll fill you in somewhere quieter than this?” She turned to the cop and lowered her voice even further. “I have to file a police report. I’m afraid something happened on the ferry.”

The cop sat back. Benji nodded slowly, then raised his hand and waved at a gray-haired waitress, who in turn nodded and headed for the cash register. Benji wrapped one large arm around his tiny sister’s shoulders. A totally unconvincing smile slid across her face.

“Sorry, I should be doing introductions. Jack Brooks, I’d like you to meet Officer Stephen Burne and my brother, Benjamin Duff, the dastardly dog thief. Watch out, Benji—Jack’s a reporter from Torchlight News in Toronto.”

Was she actually making fun of him? No, she was probably just frightened and trying to break the tension. The least he could not was not make things harder for her.

“Nice to meet you.” Jack shook hands around the table.

Benji smiled widely. He pumped Jack’s hand. “I didn’t steal Harry. He just showed up at the sports store this morning and wanted to hang out. I hopped in the truck to come meet the ferry and see if you wanted to grab some food, Meg, and Harry jumped in for the ride. After I parked the car, Officer Burne came over and told me Bert McCarthy called the police accusing me of dognapping.”

Burne rolled his eyes. “Your brother’s agreed to return the dog to McCarthy tonight. Old coot is lucky we don’t charge him for letting his dog run around town without a collar on.”

The waitress raised a bill in their direction. The officer opened his wallet, but Benji waved him off. “No, this one’s on me. Harry ate most of the donuts anyway.”

The reporter watched as Benji went over to the counter and settled the bill. Normally Jack could get a lot out of watching someone do the simplest things, which was what made meeting Benji so perplexing. There was just something so easygoing, cheerful and transparent about the large, bearded man. Most people, including Officer Burne, tended to flinch a little when he said he was a reporter. But Benji had just grabbed his hand like a man who had nothing to hide.

Jack’s every instinct had flared when that drunken kid blurted out that Meg’s little brother might have a history with the law. But now? No, he couldn’t believe it was true. While he’d still do a criminal background check on Benji, just to be thorough, somehow he already knew it would come up empty.

“You remember my son, Malcolm?” Burne said. “He and my daughter-in-law, Alyssa, came in on the ferry. He’s a rookie cop in Toronto, but he’s thinking of moving up here to join his old man. Alyssa’s hoping to start her own wedding business. Might give you some competition.”

Benji returned to the table with a pair of bright pink flip-flops for Meg, which Jack could only assume he’d managed to borrow from someone while sorting the bill. The four of them headed out of the diner for the relative privacy of Burne’s police car. They’d barely gone five steps along the sidewalk before Meg bumped into a young couple, whom she introduced as the bride and groom she’d been escorting on the ferry.

Jack’s inner reporter sized them up. The young bride, Rachel, was stunning but in a rather generic way—blond, with a slender, athletic frame and a plastic beauty-pageant smile, which she’d plastered onto her face in an apparent attempt to hide the obvious irritation in her eyes. The groom, Wesley, was skinny and twitchy, with a mop of chestnut curls and small horn-rimmed glasses. Nervous because Meg introduced Jack as a reporter? Because Burne was a cop in uniform? Or simply because he was getting married in two days? It was impossible to tell. But Jack couldn’t help noticing how Rachel’s fingers clutched her fiancé’s arm, and that while everyone smiled politely, a thin tremor of tension ran through the small talk they exchanged. The bride was preoccupied with the reception details and seemed oblivious of Meg’s state. No wonder Meg had wanted to get away from them on the ferry. Just five seconds in the company of these two and already he was eager to go.

He also noticed that when the bride asked why Meg hadn’t met them at the docks, Meg didn’t say a word about being attacked, let alone thrown overboard. She’d only smiled professionally, apologized and promised yet again to call them later.

For some reason that bothered him. Could he really expect her to just spill the story out to this young couple, sharing her troubles and fears two days before what was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives? Even if she was willing to burden them like that, would it really be professionally appropriate? No. Not quite. Yet his whole career was based on knowing that keeping the wrong things to yourself only put other people at risk. At risk of what, though? Did he really think the Raincoat Killer was about to infiltrate their wedding? The bride was young and rather beautiful, after all.

He didn’t know. That was the problem. It wasn’t as if he’d expected the killer to attack Meg on the ferry either. How could anyone possibly defend herself against an unknown, unseen threat?

Ten minutes later, they were sitting in Burne’s police cruiser with the windows up. Not quite the private room Jack would have hoped for, but with the closest police station half an island away, it would have to do. Meg and the officer sat in the front seat. Jack, Benji and Harry the dog were crowded in the back. Burne had called his supervisor into the conversation and was taking copious, conscientious notes as first Meg and then Jack relayed what had happened on the ferry.