Carla Neggers - On Fire

Straker continued on his way without comment. Riley sighed. The man could drive her to the brink if she let him. She turned back to the fountain. More people had drifted over for a bit of fresh air during their lunch hour. Suddenly the idea of going back to work, trying to concentrate, didn’t appeal to her. She was restless, frustrated, still absorbing the potential ramifications of Sam Cassain turning up dead on Labreque Island. She wanted to find Emile—and she wanted to know what Straker was up to next.

“Riley? I thought that was you.”

Hell, she thought. Henry Armistead. He’d got to her before she could get to him. From his grim expression, she guessed he’d heard the news. Bennett had lured him east from California three years before to serve as the center’s executive director. He was fifty-one, handsome and polished, and Riley, oblivious to such things herself, had heard rumors of a budding relationship between him and Abigail Granger.

“I was just coming to see you,” she said lamely.

“A little late, I’d say. Maine State Police investigators are on their way. They want to talk to Abigail, Caroline Granger, your father and me about Sam’s death. They said they might want to ask you a few more questions, too.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“I wish I’d known about this before the police called.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve been preoccupied.” She stopped, picturing the body lying facedown in low tide. “I didn’t recognize him. It never occurred to me…”

“It must have been a terrible moment for you,” Henry said softly. “Riley, Sam’s body turning up on an island your grandfather owns…” He inhaled. He was gray haired, formal in his dark gray suit. His dress and manner, his sensibilities, fit with the Grangers more than they did the Labreques and St. Joes. “I can only imagine what the police must be thinking.”

“We shouldn’t jump to any conclusions just because there was bad blood between Emile and Sam. For all we know, Sam could have been on his way to tell Emile he’d changed his mind about the Encounter and wanted to mend fences. There’s just no telling.”

“I know Emile’s your grandfather, but…” He sighed. “Well, never mind. It’s obvious you have a blind spot where he’s concerned, which is understandable. I just hope Emile hears the news that the police want to talk to him, and comes in.”

“I’m sure he will. This isn’t the first time he’s taken off without telling anyone. Since he’s retired, he doesn’t have to answer to any of us.”

Henry tilted his head back slightly and gave her a long look, the kind that reminded her who was boss and who wasn’t. “That’s true. He doesn’t. But you, Riley—I want to make sure your priorities and obligations are clear.”

“Of course they are.”

He looked dubious. “Your sister is estranged from Matthew Granger. Sam Cassain placed responsibility for the deaths of five people, including Bennett Granger, on your grandfather’s shoulders. Now he’s dead and Emile’s disappeared.”

“I was there, Henry.” She kept her voice low, under control. “I know what happened.”

“Perhaps you should take the afternoon off,” he continued more gently. “We can see where things stand in the morning. With any luck, this will all have sorted itself out by then.”

Riley stood rock-still, not certain where this was leading. “Henry, I have work to do. Is this a suggestion or a request?”

“You’ve been walking the razor’s edge for a year. I know it’s difficult for you to accept Emile’s culpability with regard to the Encounter. It’s difficult for all of us. I’m being very straightforward with you, Riley. You’re not neutral. If you were, you wouldn’t have been on Labreque Island in the first place.”

“I took a vacation day and kayaked over for a picnic. It’s not as if—”

He held up a hand, stopping her. “I know, I know. I’m not criticizing you. You’re in a difficult position. I ask you to keep in mind how important the Grangers are to this institution. Bennett’s death and the Encounter controversy were tough blows to absorb. I’m not sure what else that family can stand before they turn their attentions elsewhere.”

And their money, Riley thought bitterly.

It was as if Henry read her mind. “It’s not just their financial support we can’t afford to lose. It’s their enthusiasm, their passion for the center’s work.”

“Abigail’s, you mean. Caroline doesn’t seem that interested in oceanography, and Matt—”

“Take the afternoon off,” Henry interrupted sharply. “And take tomorrow off if you need to.”

She nodded. Her throat was tight, dry, her voice strangled. If Henry knew about Straker and his shark-feeding, he’d probably fire her. He’d only worked at the center for three years. He didn’t understand the connections between her family and the Grangers, that losing Bennett Granger was tantamount to losing a second grandfather.

“What about the dinner tonight?” she asked.

He winced, obviously having forgotten Abigail’s bimonthly dinner for the center’s staff. “You’ll have to attend, I suppose. It would be awkward and obvious if you didn’t. Abigail understands your torn loyalties. We all know you were nearly killed on the Encounter yourself.”

“So was Emile.”

“Emile doesn’t place the same value on human life that the rest of us do. That’s the problem. That’s what led to the Encounter disaster. We all see it, Riley, even if you can’t.” Henry straightened, squaring his shoulders as if he knew he’d gone too far. “Well, I’ve been as brutally honest as I can be. Forgive me. I’ll see you this evening.”

He started out across the plaza, and Riley shook her arms and hands to loosen up the tensed muscles. Was she that blind to Emile’s faults? Her mother, her father, her sister, her boss—everyone believed his passion and dedication to his work had turned pathological. She was his last defender.

What did Straker think?

“You don’t care what Straker thinks,” she reminded herself out loud.

She went back to her office, packed up her leather tote and made it out to the parking garage before she remembered she’d come in his car. Well, fine. She’d take the T home.

Then she spotted the rusting back end and Maine license plate of Straker’s Subaru in her reserved space. Of all the nerve.

“What’re you doing, quitting early?”

His voice came out of nowhere, echoing amid the concrete. She was so startled she jumped, and suddenly he was behind her, like a mugger who’d been lurking in the shadows. He caught an arm around her middle, steadying her. “Whoa, don’t fall over.” He grinned, his eyes sparkling with self-satisfaction. “I didn’t know I’d have that effect on you. Riley St. Joe, gone weak at the knees.”

“You snuck up on me.”

“I was already here. Gossip in the shark tank had you sent home for the day. I turned my pail of fish over to one of my new buddies and came on up.” His arm lingered on her middle; she could feel his thick fingers on her side. “I figured it’d slip your mind I’d done the driving.”

“Straker, you can let go of me now.”

His arm didn’t move. She tried not to nestle into it, sink into him and let him absorb all her frustrations and fears. “You won’t faint and fall over?”

“No.”

“Throw up?”

He was enjoying himself. His arm was warm across her back, strong, unexpectedly reassuring. She sucked in a breath. “No.”

“You know,” he said close to her ear, his fingers digging just a little deeper into her side, “I think you’re the first human I’ve touched since I got out of the hospital. I’ve wrestled with a few lobsters and picked through the tide pools, but you’re the first woman—”