Cut and Run 08 Ball & Chain (17 page)

“O’Flaherty,” Zane whispered, but he was unable to follow up with any words of comfort. He cleared his throat, feeling stupid for thinking what he had. “I’m sorry I thought you—”

“Don’t worry about it. I probably would have thought the same thing.”

“Okay, so if it’s PTSD, what do you think started it?”

Nick shrugged, not meeting Zane’s eyes.

“It was the thing with Cross and the CIA, wasn’t it?” Zane asked. “We led them right to you. They came at you on your boat.”

“Sure they did, Garrett, but people have been trying to kill me every day since I was eighteen. Hell, even before that if you want to count being tossed down the stairs, so who the fuck knows. Got real bad a few months ago, though; they almost sent me home. I had to convince them to keep me deployed until the others were let go, too.”

Zane waited a few beats. “You haven’t told anyone?”

“Kelly knows. He has for a while.”

“But not Ty?”

Nick laughed bitterly. “Yeah, there’s a couple things Ty doesn’t know. I’ve been waiting for a good time to talk to him. You know how Ty is.”

Zane nodded sadly. Ty would freak the fuck out at the first
hint
of Nick being sick. “Yeah.”

“I mean . . . how do you tell your best friend that you’re sick and no one knows why?”

Zane shook his head, at a loss. An awkward silence began to creep in as they stood in the hallway staring at each other. Zane thought maybe Nick was holding his breath, and he suddenly realized why. “If he asks me directly if I know anything, I’ll tell him to talk to you. Otherwise, it’s none of my business to tell him, right? You’ll do it when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Garrett.”

Zane nodded and made to step away, but Nick reached for his arm and stopped him.

“And . . . thank you for being concerned and ready to help. I know it’s not easy to come up to someone like that. That’s solid.”

“I’m just glad I didn’t have to give you my rehab speech.”

Nick barked a laugh. He put his arm around Zane’s shoulder, patting his back and steering him toward the great hall. He let him go before they reached the door, and they rejoined Ty and Kelly just before Stanton addressed the crowd.

They set Nick up in the game room. A billiard table and a long shuffleboard table sat along one wall, and a disconcerting stag head glared from over the fireplace. Nick pulled a stool behind the wet bar and laid out a notepad, several pens, and his iPad, feeling vastly unprepared for the task ahead of him.

After Stanton’s announcement, people had been edgy and nervous, but no one had outright objected to the questioning. Nick was expecting some hostility, though, and it was going to be awkward as hell when he started interviewing people he knew. He also felt naked without his badge.

Susan Stanton was nearly inconsolable during her interview. “Ernest was a good man, he didn’t deserve to die like that. Oh my God.” She put her fingers to her lips and closed her eyes. “Poor, poor man. He wasn’t even supposed to be here! He and Theodore had some last-minute things to work on so he came on the plane with us.”

Theodore Stanton was less flustered when Nick interviewed him. “We were working on a project, yes. He insisted he come along so it could be finished. He was like a bulldog when it came to the government work.”

Livi Stanton cried through her entire interview. “If it hadn’t been for Mr. Milton, Deacon and I would never have met, did you know that? He went to Deacon for his stress problems, and he noticed Deacon’s limp. He gave him my card and told him to try it.” She broke down into tears again, and Nick was forced to call Deuce to come get her. He didn’t comfort crying women unless they were gutshot.

“Yeah, you know I’d forgotten that,” Deuce admitted. “He did give me her card. Jesus, now I feel kind of bad. I mean I felt bad anyway, you know, but now I feel worse. I mean I feel bad that he died at my wedding, not because I killed him or anything. Why are you looking at me like that? Why are you writing that down? Oh my God, Deacon, stop talking.”

Mara Grady babbled through her entire interview just like her youngest son. “What was he doing out on that beach at night? That’s so dangerous, you know he wasn’t down there for anything good. Nicholas, dear, you look tired. You need some coffee.”

When Earl Grady entered the room, he was carrying a plate and a steaming mug. “The wife said to bring you this,” he said as he placed them at Nick’s elbow. “I saw the dead man at dinner. He kept checking his watch like he had somewhere to be. And he was on his cell phone the whole time. Figured it was a sat phone since everyone seems to have shit for service out here.”

“There isn’t a damn bar of service on this stupid island,” the maid of honor told him. She was a pretty woman with copper-colored hair. Her eyes were drawn to Nick’s notepad. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Nikki Webb. I hate being here, okay? My entire body itches and I can’t get it to stop, and my hair is frizzy as hell because of all the rain, and I can’t even have phone sex with my boyfriend because we’re out in the middle of damn nowhere. I mean I love Livi, but so help me God this marriage better last
forever
.”

Nick had already met one of the bridesmaids, Catalina Cruz, at the dinner last night. She was a looker, and she had the kind of fire that Nick enjoyed. He’d spent a while talking with her, and if not for Kelly, they probably would have been each other’s alibis last night. “Let me guess, Nikki spent ten minutes complaining about the phone service? I’m rooming with her. She spent at least an hour last night wandering the halls, desperate for a bar of service. She almost fell over the balcony railing holding it up to the sky. No one should get that wrapped up in a guy, you know what I mean?”

The next bridesmaid to sit across from him spelled her name for him. “Miyoko Mason.” She was tall and possibly too thin to be healthy, with an exotic look that spoke of an Asian ancestry. “I talked to him for a while. He could quote Sun Tzu. That’s
The Art of War
, in case you didn’t know. He was very smooth, like a spy in some novel. He kept saying he had to meet with someone and checking his watch. He didn’t say who.”

The groomsmen weren’t as impressed with Milton. Christian Orr, Deuce’s oldest friend, was tall and lanky, and his handshake was firm. “Yeah, I saw him at the party. He was pulling some sort of spy con on two of the bridesmaids. It was kind of funny to watch. I didn’t see him after he left the party. Thought he got lucky, but . . . guess I was wrong. I switched rooms when Matt hooked up with that brunette bridesmaid. I spent the night with the Asian chick, Miyoko? Read her a fucking poem and she’s yours, man.”

“I mean, how do you pretend you’re some sort of damn secret agent at a wedding for a psychiatrist and a yogi?” Matthew Ferguson asked Nick. He was short and athletic, with dark hair and a playful smile. “I spent most of the party with Ashlee. Have you seen her yet? Ashlee Knight? I mean, God
damn
. I was with her until around four this morning. She woke me up when she left my room.”

Nick had started out making a chart of who had been sleeping where and with whom, but it had begun to look like a spider’s web. He shouldn’t have been surprised by that, but the bedroom machinations of the staff caught him more off guard.

“Well . . . it’s a small island,” Maisie Ross told him. “Jockie and I grew up together, so of course we’ve been together. There are only a handful of year-round staff, and I’m one of them, even if I am just the nanny when the family’s here. I work as a housekeeper as well, and I help Jockie with the gardening. But when Amelia’s on the island, she’s my only job. I was with her that night, asleep. I have to sleep when she does or she runs me ragged.”

Most of the staff and wedding guests were cooperative. Others were so nervous they could barely remember their names when Nick asked, and a select few were irritable or downright combative about being there. The Snake Eaters, especially, were irate when they were questioned.

Nick put the latter guests in a special list, which included all five of the Snake Eaters, to question them again. Just to irritate them.

“My men wouldn’t kill someone by bashing their head in with a rock,” John English insisted. “That’s just insulting.”

“You’re damn right it’s insulting,” Lenny Hardin sneered. He was around Nick’s size, with dark hair and a receding hairline he tried to hide by keeping his head nearly shaved. “If I was going to kill some snot-nosed little bitch like that Milton guy, I sure as damn hell wouldn’t use a
rock
. Come on. I bet even you Recon bitches know how to snap someone’s neck.”

Solomon Frost was one of the Snake Eaters Nick actually liked. He was lanky and laid-back, with close-cropped blond hair and a hard face that seemed at odds when he smiled. “I was doing my rounds. The beach wasn’t part of our territory; we stuck close to the house. I’m just here to do a job. Are you getting paid for this shit? Because you should be.”

The one female Snake Eater, Avery Kline, was even more irritated at being questioned than the others had been. “Do you know what it’s like being the only woman on a team like this? I have to work twice as hard to prove myself, and I still get the shitty assignments. They kept me inside the house the entire night, said it would make the female guests feel more comfortable. Do you know how much bullshit that is? Half those girls weren’t even in their own beds most of the night anyway!”

Riddle Park, the silent Korean Snake Eater, had nothing to say about the night before. Nick was searching his memory for the few bits and pieces of Korean he had learned to ask if the man spoke English when Park leaned closer to him and peered over the sunglasses he wore. One eye was a milky-white color. “I saw nothing,” he said, and then got up to leave.

Hours into the day, after over thirty questionings, a picture of everyone on the island in his iPad, and an entire notepad full of notes, charts, and scribbles, Nick was ready to bash himself in the head with a pool cue.

He glanced up when the door clicked shut, and he sighed in relief when he saw that his next interview was Kelly.

“Good afternoon, Detective,” Kelly drawled. He pulled up the stool opposite Nick and sat.

“This is fucking exhausting,” Nick said. “Anyone out there look nervous?”

“Everyone out there looks nervous. What the hell are you doing to people in here?”

Nick shrugged helplessly.

“On the plus side, no one else has shown up dead.”

Nick rubbed at his eyes, fighting the throbbing that had started up about an hour ago.

“You okay?” Kelly asked, his voice going softer.

Nick met Kelly’s multicolored eyes, and warmth spread through him, easing the stress. He reached across the bar top and took Kelly’s hand in his, kissing his palm without a word.

“Aren’t you going to take my picture for your records and ask me where I was last night?” Kelly teased.

Nick responded with a low rumble, because he damn well remembered every last second of where Kelly had been last night. They were both silent for a few moments, their hands clasped. Kelly finally picked up Nick’s iPad and took his own picture, making a face when he clicked it. Nick chuckled and took it away from him, setting it aside.

“You remember anything from last night that was off?”

Kelly shook his head. “I’ve been trying, but I can’t think of anything.”

Nick nodded. That was the answer he’d been getting all day.

Kelly stood and walked around the end of the bar, coming up to Nick and sliding his arms around his shoulders. Nick rested his cheek against Kelly’s chest and closed his eyes as Kelly rested his chin on Nick’s head. He wrapped his arms around Kelly’s waist and Kelly slid closer, holding him tight. They stayed that way for long minutes, giving Nick a break, soaking in each other’s presence.

“Ty is waiting for the next interview,” Kelly finally said, his voice suddenly tense.

Nick groaned, closing his eyes and burying his face in Kelly’s chest. After interviewing Ty, they would have to switch and Ty would interrogate him. This was not the way he had envisioned telling Ty about himself and Kelly, but he supposed there was no choice now. It was his alibi, after all.

“It’ll be okay,” Kelly told him. He patted Nick’s cheek and stepped back. Nick’s hands fell away as Kelly headed for the door. “Scream if he tries to kill you.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

Nick grunted as Kelly slid out of the room, and before the door closed, Ty had stepped in.

“You look rough, buddy,” Ty said with a smirk. He set a bottle of water down at Nick’s elbow, along with a couple of aspirin, then took the stool across from him.

“Thanks.” Nick stared at the bottle, feeling like his entire body was tumbling with nerves.

“Anyone stand out?”

Nick forced himself to meet Ty’s eyes. “Not anything glaring. I’ve been starting with the party and having them walk me through to four this morning. Most of the answers I’m getting are alcohol or someone else’s bed.”

“Not surprised,” Ty said with a huff. “Why the party? Why so early?”

“Doc’s temp check said eight hours at least. Even accounting for the night being cold, that puts us around midnight, give or take an hour. The watch is wrong.”