P. Alderman - A Killing Tide

"You'll get it all back, don't worry," Sykes replied, gathering up the loose stacks of printouts that had been strewn across the coffee table. He tossed her keys back to her, looking angry.

He and Jackson had practically torn the house apart, becoming increasingly destructive as they failed to find anything incriminating, yet refusing to answer when she demanded to know what they were looking for. And Clint had seemed to get an almost prurient satisfaction out of going through her personal belongings.

As Sykes walked out with her laptop tucked under one arm, Clint told her, "We're going to nail Gary this time, Kaz. Count on it."

She slammed the front door and stalked into the kitchen, yanking open the freezer and staring at her choices for dinner without really seeing them.

Maybe she was going about this the wrong way. Who in the fishing community was capable of running drugs? Bjorn was one of the more successful fishermen in town. He hadn't taken the government's buyout offer, and he was still operating several boats. But she couldn't imagine that he would be tempted by anything illegal. And if he were in trouble, she would've seen some sign—maybe that he wanted to sell one of the boats. Of course, it was possible the reason he was doing so well was that he had a second, very lucrative source of income.

She shook her head, slamming the freezer door. This was getting her nowhere. Bjorn was the last person she should be suspecting. So far, he was the one who was the most supportive of her, though that wasn't really saying much. After all, what had he really told her? Certainly nothing that could be substantiated. Maybe that was his strategy—sound helpful while keeping her in the dark.

She walked over to the window and stared out at the dark, empty street. Were things so bad that she was wondering whether one of the nicest guys in the fleet—the father of eight children, for God's sake—was a cold-blooded murderer?

When it came right down to it, the only fisherman she could stand to accuse of drug smuggling was Karl Svensen. He had refused to press charges against Gary six months ago, but recently, he'd been neither helpful nor friendly. And according to Steve, he'd had some kind of run-in with Ken. She wasn't privy to Karl's finances, but they couldn't be all that great if his boats came back into port on the light side. Of course, that could be said about every fisherman in Astoria, including her.

She sighed. She was going in circles, and those circles were bringing her right back around to Ken. He was the only person who'd had obvious financial pressures. Chemo and hospital stays like Bobby's were expensive, and she'd never been under the impression that Ken's mother was all that wealthy.

On a hunch, she pulled the Portland phone book out of the kitchen junk drawer, looking up the number for the hospital where Bobby was being treated. The clock on the wall above the stove indicated that they were well into the dinner hour, but maybe hospitals kept their offices open later than usual. She dialed the number. When the receptionist answered, Kaz asked for the business office and was informed that it was closed. So she asked to be transferred to the children's oncology ward.

While she waited, she rehearsed what she would say. She jumped when the head nurse answered on the second ring. "Um, yes, hi. This is Julie Lundquist, and I wanted to check on the status of our account. I think I may have paid one of the bills twice, by mistake—"

"I'm sorry," the nurse said, "but it's after hours, and the office is closed. If you could call again tomorrow morning—"

"Um, I knew that," Kaz said. "But it's kind of an emergency. See, I've overdrawn my account, and I know it's late, but I'm trying to reconcile my checkbook while Bobby gets a little sleep—he's having so much trouble sleeping right now—and I'll be getting overdraft notices that I can't afford—"

"Oh, poor thing," the nurse said, her voice instantly sympathetic. "It's so hard to watch children go through chemo."

"Yes," Kaz agreed quickly, feeling a giant twinge of guilt at her deception. "It would really help if you could pull up my records on the computer and take a peek at the last payment I sent you, you know, so I could verify the amount?"

"I'm not supposed to—"

"Please."

"Well, I don't see how it could really hurt…" The nurse seemed to come to a decision. "Hold on and I'll see what I can do." After tapping on the computer keys for a moment, she said, "Please verify the last four digits of your social security number for me."

Kaz froze, trying to remember Julie's number from when she'd filled out the insurance forms for them last week. "8166." She held her breath.

"Okay, here we go. You haven't sent us anything for a long time. Your last check to us was dated four months ago."

"I see," Kaz said hesitantly, amazed that it had been so easy, and then said, "Um, I thought that I might've overpaid. Can you give me the outstanding balance?"

"Well, that's odd. You don't have a balance." The nurse tapped some more. "Oh, right! I remember now. We just received that anonymous donation that wiped out your outstanding balance. Our bookkeeper told us about it. We were so excited that someone would do that for Bobby."

"Anonymous?" Kaz repeated, dumfounded. Then she realized the woman had to be talking about Ken's mother. "Oh, you must mean the payments from my mother-in-law."

"Nooo," the nurse said, sounding confused herself now. "The payment was anonymous, and there's a notation right here in the file that they called you to give you the good news about your unknown benefactor. Your mother-in-law hasn't paid anything in quite some time."

"That's right," Kaz said quickly. She started to end the call, then thought of one more question. "When was that payment made again?"

"Hon, you must really be out of it. They called you this afternoon."

Kaz recovered quickly enough to laugh nervously. "You know, I am. I've been losing so much sleep—well. Sorry to have taken up your time." She hung up before the woman decided to get suspicious, then stood in the middle of the kitchen, lost in thought.

So Ken had probably been using the drug money to pay for Bobby's treatments. It made sense. And Julie must've known about it and lied to cover it up. She'd known that the burglary wasn't real, that they'd been looking for the money. That explained her edginess when Kaz had been at the house, and her unwillingness to talk to the police.

Kaz had no doubt, though, who had made the anonymous donation. Absently setting the portable phone down on the counter, she acknowledged the full import of what she'd just discovered. The anonymous payment was exactly the type of gesture that Gary would make, especially in light of Ken's murder. Of all the information she'd unearthed to date, this had her the most freaked, because it meant that whoever killed Ken would now be after Gary.

Kaz paced for another moment, trying to control her anxiety, and then pulled a frozen meal at random from the freezer. She popped it into the microwave. She had to get in touch with Chuck, right away. Gary's only hope of staying alive was to turn himself in, telling the police everything he knew. And that meant she needed to drive out to Chuck's that evening.

She opened the junk drawer to rummage for a pad and pencil. She'd leave a note for Michael. He'd be angry, but there wasn't any help for it. If Michael was with her, there was no way either Chuck or Gary—

Her only warning was a slight shifting of the air behind her. She started to turn, but he was on her too fast, a gloved hand encircling her neck, cutting off her air.

~~~~

Chapter 19

Before she reacted enough to struggle, her assailant's arm locked hard around her waist, trapping her. He jerked her backwards so that her feet were dangling in the air. Then he half-carried, half-dragged her, kicking and squirming, into the darkened living room.