The Girl on the Yacht (16 page)

Night had settled in. John came out on deck and shook his head. Marin and Beth were both asleep on the lounge chairs. It had been a long day for all of them. One thing about being on a boat at sunset, it’s the most gently rocking cradle on the planet. Add a couple of margaritas, and complete relaxation is the result. He smiled when he saw Marin move.

“Where’s Cameron?”

Marin lifted her hand and gave a finger point in the direction of Mitch’s boat.

He glanced over to see the new couple completely engaged in conversation. He waved and they returned the gesture.

“Come on, Beth, let’s get you back to the house.”

She stirred and jumped to her feet, trying to convince him that she could drive.

“I know you’re okay, but I’m going to take you anyway.”

He led the way without attempting to take her arm. She followed him down the steps and over to the dock. They passed Mitch’s boat and continued down the long runway toward the gate.

“Hey, Johnny, why don’t you marry Marin? Then we’d be sisters.”

“We just got back together a couple of days ago.” He stopped and contemplated. “I’m not even sure if we’re together.” He opened the gate.

“Ah, Marin’s in love with you––you don’t have to worry about that.”

He smiled.

“I did ask her to marry me more than once in college.”

Beth stopped and pulled back from him to get a better look.

“What’d you do, blow it?”

“No, she just said it wasn’t the right time. We were both still in school and––”

“Well, you’re not in school anymore.”

“We’ll see.”

“Don’t blow it this time.”

“I didn’t blow it––she said no.”

“You need her. Besides, I need a sister.” Beth smiled.

He laughed. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

After dropping Beth off at his house, he headed back to the marina. John’s mind fell into the pressing problem of making sense out of the weight belt. Before he left the boat, he had concentrated on the manufacturers of the belt and the weights. He had successfully hacked their invoicing systems to their dealers and came up with a massive set of data. It had all led to the same conclusion that Cameron had surmised––every dive shop ordered large numbers of each item, and then there were the online outlets around the world with thousands of products being distributed.

John walked down the dock toward his boat and heard his name called from the side.

He turned. Cameron waved him over.

“Hey, Cam.”

“Did you find anything?”

“I think you’re right––it’s a dead end.”

“Well, you tried.” She seemed thankful for his attempt.

He turned and crossed the dock to his boat and boarded.

Marin, with her beautiful blonde hair whispering across her face in the slight breeze, leaned against the stainless-steel top-rail while she focused on him. “Come on up. It’s a beautiful night.”

She recovered nicely
, he thought. John climbed the stairs two at a time, strolled over, and put his arms around her narrow waist.

“Beth thinks we should get married so she can have a sister.” He grinned.

“That’s a good reason. Maybe someday.”

He was taken aback by the comment. “So, there’s a chance?”

“Nothing’s impossible. Isn’t that what you always told Beth?”

His mind became distracted by the weight belt. He turned and walked toward the corridor to his computer room.

“Hey, where are you going?” She didn’t get a response. “Not again,” she said mostly to herself.

He heard her voice fade from behind while he shot down the stairs.

He shouted up, “Can you make sure I pick up Beth at six in the morning if I’m still working on this? She needs to go to the airport.”

It was quiet.

He reached over and flipped the computer on. When he turned around to go up to the galley for coffee, Marin stood, blocking his path.

“I’m sorry I left you standing on the deck. It was something you said.”

She shifted slowly in anticipation of the explanation.

“Well, you said, ‘nothing’s impossible.’ It made me think that there has to be a way to figure this thing out. I could use your help, if you’re not too pissed at me.”

“I should get back to my boat.”

“Don’t go. I really need your help.”

“Where are you on the weight belt?”

“I checked the shipments the manufacturers had of the belt and the pouches. But, the list of possible places where they were sold is too long. There are even online stores that can’t be ruled out.” John pointed up to the galley. “Let’s go up and get some coffee. It could be a long night.”

Marin led the way to the salon.

“Not online.”

“What?” John asked.

“The killer wouldn’t have bought it online. Remember, he’s a professional. The Internet leaves a trail.”

“Good. What else?”

“If he came into Newport Beach to do the job, he probably bought it locally.”

“I can narrow it to stores––say a ten-mile radius from the marina.”

“Make it more like fifty. The paths from the most likely airports—LAX, John Wayne, Ontario––”

“Burbank, and Long Beach,” he added. “What about San Diego?”

“Too far.” Marin paced across the salon. “How else can we narrow the search parameters?”

“A pro wouldn’t use a credit card or a debit card––so cash,” John said. “Now, we’re getting somewhere.”

“He probably came in maybe a day before he killed Laura.”

“How do you figure? He could have come in a week or two before to plan it,” John said.

She shook her head. “It seemed almost unplanned. If I were going to make a hit like that, I would have chosen another place.”

John’s eyes bugged out. “If you––”

“I’m just trying to think like a professional killer. There are too many variables on the dock––people, dogs, boats. If he climbed aboard, he had to wait for Laura to leave her boat in the middle of the night.” She looked at John. “He came in at the last minute––it must have been urgent.”

“Okay.” John started getting into it.

“Can you get Cameron the manufacturer’s list of stores that received the belt and weights––say in order from the nearest to the marina to the outer ring of your airport routes? I’ll go with her in the morning and we can check them out.”

“We’re getting excited about this, but what are the chances this will lead anywhere? Even if we find the store, what do you expect to discover? You said he’s a pro.”

“We have to do something. There could be another clue if we find the store. Maybe he had an accent or something. We have to try.”

John’s mind raced off chasing a thought. “What if I can find the exact store before you go in the morning?”

“How would you do that?”

“Not sure, but there’s got to be a way. Let me work on it. Sleep here tonight. It’s going to take awhile. Just remember to remind me when it’s six so I can take Beth to the airport.”

Marin awoke and glanced at the clock. “John, it’s after five,” she called down the corridor toward his computer room while she tied her hair back. “Are you still at it?”

No response.

She walked the few steps to the doorway and saw him hunched over the keyboard––asleep. “John, you have to take Beth to the airport.”

He looked up at her through his tired eyes. “I’ve narrowed it down to the last of five stores. Their systems have been offline, probably doing overnight maintenance. I wrote a program that keeps trying to access them until each one comes online.”

“Not quite legal, I’m guessing.”

He gritted his teeth. “Let’s not tell Cameron.”

Bing.
John’s computer sounded.

“What’s that? Do you have an email or text message coming in?”

“It just accessed one of the targets.” He reached over and slid the mouse across the pad, and the screen awoke to show that he was into the system of a Huntington Beach dive shop. He scrolled through a short list of the previous week’s invoices.

“Not here.”

Bing
.

“There’s another coming on line.”

“How did you know it wasn’t at that last one? What are you looking for?”

“Cash sales only––where the belt or the weights were purchased. I figure he might have bought them separately––maybe even at different shops. You never know.”

“That’s good. How’s it working?”

“So far, the belts all have weights with them––the appropriate amounts for around here––twelve to sixteen pounds.”

She nodded.

Bing
. The stores were now opening and coming on line at a steady pace.

John worked through the second and the third lists. He pointed to the screen.

“Here’s a belt sold by itself.” He continued to scroll through the list. “No separate order for weights. Let’s keep that belt in mind.”

Bing.
The fourth store activated his search program.

John scrolled down the list.

“Call Cameron. Tell her I have her store.” He smiled and turned to Marin.

“You found an order with separate weights?”

“Better.” He turned the screen toward her. “Last Friday, less than two miles from here, at 6:02 p.m., the Seaward Dive Center in Newport Beach had a cash sale of . . . are you ready for this?” His smile grew bigger. “One blue DiveTeam weight belt, size small, and three Leeside half-pound weight pouches.”

Marin pulled out her phone and dialed.

“West,” Cameron answered.

“We found it.”

John pointed his finger at himself and mouthed, “I found it.”

“Okay, John found it. Come by––I want to go with you,” Marin said.

Michael felt the day slipping away after sleeping in past five. He rubbed the scabby knot on his left temple.
What a bike ride
. Few things got his adrenaline flowing most days. He had to admit––
the sheer fall, the ground racing to meet him, being in control until the last second––incredible
. Maybe he and his sons would take up mountain bikes when this was over. What a great activity for them to do together.

Off the garage, he rolled his chair up to his office desk, pushed the power button on his laptop, and waited for it to boot up. “Come on,” he ordered the screen while it flickered to life. He gazed around his spacious home office/workshop. The gun safe stood like a sumo wrestler in the corner. At six feet high and four feet wide, it was massive. He remembered how hard it was to get it in. He and the guys had to tear out the wall and use a forklift to put it in place.
That was a weekend.
A couple of cases of beer later, they had replaced the wall and put in the solid oak door.
It’s a good thing this house is paid off, because I’m never moving that safe
.

He turned back to his computer and typed in his search. Google listed the most recent articles on the murders. He read the blurbs on Sutherland and his contributions to the community. “Yada, Yada, Yada.” Michael scrolled quickly through more websites with the news. He stopped at one with a newsfeed video and played it.

The interviewer was at the scene on the night of the murder and had cornered a detective putting a microphone in front of him, “Jack, there’s a rumor that you have a witness. Is that true?” The ribbon at the bottom of the screen read Sergeant Jack Moore—Homicide Investigator, Orange County Sheriff’s Department.

“I can’t comment on that. But, we do have a name of the possible killer. We’re still canvassing the area.”

“What’s the name?”

“I’d rather not say at this time until we have more to go on. In
my
preliminary investigation, I discovered bike tracks leading out of the back yard of the neighbor’s house. If anyone saw a rider, probably on a mountain bike, would they please come forward and give us a description.” Jack Moore pushed aside the camera crew, and the interviewer closed out her segment with a plea to the public to come forward.

Fat chance,
Michael thought.
No one gets involved these days. But, a name.
He searched his memory from two days back and went through what Sutherland had said.
Did he say my name? Think. He did.
He said, “Michael.” That’s all
. “Good luck with that––hotshot detective.” He wondered how the other murder case was coming along. He began another search.

The articles had slowed about the Newport Beach murder with the advent of the latest Laguna Beach case. One bit of good news––the detective, Cameron West, seemed to have no leads. He continued to read the latest update, and his eyes stopped moving and focused on one piece of information. “No way.”

Teddy Bryce paced across the massive living room of the suite on the twenty-first floor of the Newport Beach Marriott. The CIA’s Assistant Director of Special Projects slid the glass door open to the balcony. He stepped out into the crisp morning air and took in the spectacular view of the rocky coastline to his left and the harbor in the foreground. The sweeping vista under the cloudless blue sky reminded him of the Mediterranean, more precisely, the Italian Riviera, with its elegant climb from the water. Overhanging cliffs were shadowed by the rolling hills leading ultimately to the majestic mountains to the east.

“People, where are we?” He strolled back inside.

One of his computer techs approached.

“Sir.”

“Brandon, what do you have for me?”

“I’m unable to get into John’s system. He’s put some type of security program in place that I’ve never seen before. Should I call our people at Langley and have them send out someone who could figure it out?”

Teddy laughed. “Yeah, right. Their first choice would be John. He’s our highest authority on computer programs. Leave it. If he doesn’t want us to see inside, then we’re not going to.”

A twenty-something woman shot into the room.

“Holly, what do you have?” Teddy asked.

“Marin Ryan just made a call to the detective.” She glanced at Brandon.

Teddy stared at the women waiting for her to report.

“Marin told her that John found it.”

“He found what?” Teddy moved closer to her.

“She didn’t say. She told Investigator West to come by, and they would go together to check it out.”

“Damn, I wish I had a team here. Brandon, get over to Marin’s condo.” He thought about it for a second. “What was the location of her phone when she made the call?”

Holly looked past him into the open door. “Where’s her phone’s GPS location?”

“Newport Harbor––Blue Water Marina,” the voice from the other room answered.

Teddy glanced at his watch. “It’ll take Cameron West about twenty minutes to get there from her house. Brandon, get going to the marina and follow those two. I want to know what John found.”