P. Alderman - A Killing Tide

But he couldn't think about that now—that was exactly what the killer wanted him to do. He wanted Michael to act irrationally and emotionally. To panic, so he lost his edge, so he'd miss something. Starting the car, he put it into gear. "How do I get to Bjorn's?" he asked more calmly.

She gave him the directions, and five minutes later, they were parked in front of Bjorn's house. She climbed stiffly from the car on her own—that damned independence again. She seemed grateful, though, when he put his arm around her to help her up the walkway.

She moved slowly, almost shuffling her feet. She had to be hurting bad. Although they'd filled a prescription for pain medication at the hospital pharmacy, she'd refused to take it, worried, she'd said, that it would keep her from thinking clearly. He'd let her get away with acting tough for another hour or two, but eventually she'd take the pills, even if he had to grind them up in her food.

Bjorn answered the door on the first ring of the doorbell—he'd probably seen them drive up. He took in her injuries and bruises. "What happened?"

"I was attacked," Kaz said. "Chuck's in the hospital—we don't know if he'll pull through."

Bjorn slumped against the doorjamb. "I can't do this anymore." He ran a hand through is hair, then seemed to remember his manners and held open the door, showing them into a large living room cluttered with comfortable chairs and children's toys.

Michael gently eased Kaz into the nearest chair but remained standing. "If you know something," he told Bjorn, "now's the time to tell us."

"You know where Gary is, who's hiding him, don't you?" Kaz asked.

"How do I know you won't arrest him?" Bjorn asked Michael. "He isn't part of this, you know."

Before he could speak, Kaz said, "You can trust Michael." It was the first time, despite all they'd been through, that she'd given him any concrete indication that she believed in him.

Bjorn kept his gaze on Michael. "Gary doesn't want her involved."

"She's already at risk," Michael said. "Her attacker gave her one day, then he's coming back."

Bjorn looked from one to the other of them, squared his shoulders. "Gary's been staying on the boats—mine, Jacobsen's—moving a couple of times a night, then hiding out in the abandoned warehouses on the days we're out on the water."

"Where is he right now? Which boat?" Michael asked.

"Jacobsen's 70-foot trawler, the Alliance."

"Thank you," Kaz said softly, getting up to walk over and give him a brief hug.

He gently hugged her back, his eyes sad. "I hope I've done the right thing. You'll be careful?" With the last question, he looked to Michael for confirmation.

Michael nodded. "I'll take care of her. She's not getting out of my sight until this is finished, not again." He'd handcuff her to her bed if he had to. Her days of risk-taking were over.

Bjorn saw his determination, heard the emotion in his voice, and frowned. "That thing back in Boston—you let that guy die in that fire?"

Michael raised an eyebrow, but shook his head. "No, but I'll never be able to prove it."

Bjorn studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Just handle this honorably, that's all we ask."

"You have my word."

#

They drove straight to the mooring basin, but the Alliance was locked up tight, its portholes dark. When they spied two search teams a couple of blocks down, Michael noted the sick look on Kaz's face.

They spent another forty-five minutes searching other trawlers in the vicinity, as well as the closest warehouses, but there was no sign of Gary. If he was nearby, he wouldn't reveal his hiding place, not with the cops so near. Seeming to give up, Kaz allowed Michael to drive her back to the house.

Zeke trailed them into the kitchen, hovering close to Kaz. Michael made her sit in one of the kitchen chairs while he rummaged around in her cupboards, finally coming up with a can of chicken noodle soup. Standing at the stove, he kept an eye on her while he stirred the soup. When she got up to help, he exploded. "For God's sake, just let me do it!"

"It wasn't your fault."

"I should've been here—I shouldn't have let you come back here alone. My gut was screaming at me, and I didn't listen to it." He set the saucepan aside and came over to her, kneeling down to put his arms gently around her. "I can't stand that you've been hurt, that you won't let me handle things for you."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "I'd like nothing better than to check out, but there's no time."

His arms tightened for a minute. "At least let me feed you."

He felt her smile against his shoulder. "Your specialty."

"Yeah."

He served the soup and they ate in silence for a few minutes.

"I should've been paying more attention," she said between spoonfuls. "He must've come in while I was on the phone to the hospital in Portland."

He gave her a curious look and she related what she'd discovered. "So Ken was using the drug money to pay for Bobby's treatments," she concluded. "And I think Gary may have made the anonymous payment." She looked frustrated. "I have to get to Gary, but I can't figure out how."

The swelling in her cheek and eye was going down a bit. He got up to add more ice to the cold pack. Then he refilled her soup bowl and placed it back in front of her.

"I want you to take a time-out for the night," he said quietly. "Get a good night's sleep—let your body heal a little." She started to shake her head, and he leaned across the table, taking both of her hands in his. "Just listen to me. I don't think there's anything you can do tonight. You have no way of knowing where Gary is or how to get hold of him. And you need the down time. Hell, I need the down time."

"I've got some places I can check—"

"Places you can get to in the dark?"

He watched the emotions flit across her face—the worry, the frustration. And finally, the resignation. "Okay, for a few hours."

He squeezed her hands. "Thank you," he said simply.

#

Kaz hadn't been asleep long when the sound of Zeke's tail rhythmically thumping on the hardwood floor woke her up. As she opened her eyes and tried to move, she realized Michael was in bed with her, and that he was holding her close, both arms wrapped tightly around her. He must've come back upstairs after he'd tucked her into bed, to sleep beside her and protect her. She'd unconsciously curled into him in her sleep, her head resting on his shoulder, her arm on his chest.

She raised her head to peer into the darkness, hoping to identify what had awakened her.

Michael was instantly awake. "What?"

"Someone's in the house, I think," she replied softly.

"Damn straight." The voice came from the bottom of the bed.

They both bolted upright, Kaz moaning at the quick movement Michael reached under his pillow for a gun.

She placed a hand on his arm. "It's Gary."

"Hell of a way to keep my sister safe, Chapman." Gary cursed as he tripped over Zeke. After making sure the curtains were closed, he switched on the lamp on the night stand.

"Are you okay?" Kaz asked him, her eyes squinting in the sudden glare. He looked even worse than he had forty-eight hours ago. His clothes were filthy, and his eyes held the feral look of an animal who knew it was being hunted.

"Seems like I should be the one asking that question. Bjorn told me what happened." He knelt by the side of the bed, taking her chin in his hand and turning the bruised side of her face toward the light. His lips tightened. "Dammit, Kaz, I told you to stay out of this."

She shook her head. "You aren't safe here. You know about Chuck?"

Gary nodded, his expression angry and frustrated. "The hospital has him listed as critical."

Michael had climbed out of bed and was pulling on a sweater over is jeans. "You're well informed for someone on the run," he told Gary in a mild tone.