Second Wind (Cypress Coast Book 1) Read online

  “Hey, Carlson, have you received those wire transfer records from Bank of America yet?”

  Jake glanced up. “Not yet, but they should come through sometime today. I’m looking at a new line of inquiry, though. Come check this out.”

  Steven stepped into the cube and stood behind Jake, reading the email over his shoulder. “What’s Anna in Blue?”

  “One of the ugliest paintings I’ve ever seen, but it may be the key to the art fraud angle of the investigation. I recently met a woman with connections to a gallery in Seattle and another in Carmel, both of which recently sold this painting for enough money to pay off your mortgage.”

  Steven whistled. “That’s some serious cash. And it all seems to lead back to Roskov. That Russian has his fingers in everything. The longer we look, the more we find. First, it’s narcotics distribution, then real estate and bank fraud, and now art. If he wasn’t such a thug, I’d think we were dealing with a criminal genius. Do you think this woman is part of the scheme?”

  “I don’t know, yet. I hope not. But she was formerly engaged to this Richard Vargis and now works for Victor St. James.” Jake could think of no good reason to mention Vargis’s sudden appearance yesterday or his demand for the flash drive until he had more information.

  Steven nodded and straightened. “That’s a lucky break for you. Even if this woman isn’t involved in any criminal activity, I’ll bet she has plenty of useful information, whether she realizes it, or not. You’re going to want to keep a close eye on her.”

  “I intend to.”

  After Steven returned to his own desk, Jake placed a call to Melody Hardison. “Hi, Melody. Jake Carlson. I’m just checking in. How’s Laurel this morning?”

  The sounds of the police station—voices, phones ringing—filled the background. “Better than you’d expect. I dropped her at work and told her Carmel PD would be keeping a close eye on the gallery all day.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I plan to drive her home and spend at least one more night with her and Rosemary.”

  “I’m sure she appreciates it.” I know I do. “Any news on Vargis?”

  “Nothing. There have been no sightings anywhere in the county, and I haven’t been able to confirm a reservation in his name at any of the local inns or hotels. A few vehicles were reported stolen overnight across the peninsula, but there was no evidence to connect any of the thefts to Vargis.”

  “No news is good news, I guess.”

  “I hope so.”

  Jake thanked her and hung up. He hoped the lack of information meant Laurel’s ex had returned to Seattle, but his gut told him that would be too easy.

  On the long drive south to Big Sur after work, she remained at the center of his thoughts. He wanted—no needed—to see her and talk to her, to make sure she was all right, so instead of continuing on to the unpaved side road that led to his cabin, he turned into the parking lot at Earthly Delights.

  Inside the restaurant, he found Melody and Laurel at a table for four in the back, near the kitchen door. Melody glanced up and waved when she saw him.

  He approached the table. Two glasses of water sat beside their silverware, but no food had been delivered. “Mind if I join you?”

  Melody gestured to an empty chair. “Please do.” She turned to Laurel with a teasing twinkle in her eye. “We were kind of hoping for a cabana boy, but we never object to dining with a good-looking man. Do we?”

  Laurel’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “No.”

  He pulled out the chair and sat, then regarded Melody with one raised brow. “Cabana boy?”

  She laughed. “It’s an inside joke. Here, take my menu. We’ve already decided.”

  The waitress returned, and they all ordered the special. When she left, Jake turned to Laurel. “How did it go today?”

  “Fine. The gallery was really busy, and I sold several nice pieces.”

  He relaxed against the back of his chair. “I don’t suppose anyone bought that Anna in Blue. I’m no art expert, but that’s one weird painting.”

  His assessment brought a genuine smile. “You can go ahead and say it—it’s just plain ugly.”

  “So, I assume it’s still hanging there.”

  “Actually, I haven’t seen it since we got back from lunch Tuesday. I thought Victor might have put it in the storeroom, but I didn’t see it anywhere. I suppose he might have sold it to a private client already. He was pretty excited about it, but it’s hard to imagine why.”

  Their dinners arrived, and they dug in. Melody tried to keep the conversation flowing, but Laurel merely responded with an occasional smile or nod. She appeared subdued—withdrawn even—but maybe she simply had a lot on her mind. Jake could hardly blame her for that.

  Still, he hated to see her so cowed, so he searched for another topic of conversation. “How’s the work coming on your apartment?”

  Her expression brightened. “Great. It’s almost finished. Rafael and his sons are planning to sand and stain the floor tomorrow. I’m taking Wednesday off to move.”

  Wednesday. He glanced at Melody. “Do you think that’s wise? Wednesday is only five days from now.”

  She shrugged. “No matter how badly Richard wants that flash drive, Laurel doesn’t have it, and he can’t hang around here indefinitely. He has a life and a business to run in Seattle. Besides, unless he’s a complete fool, he has to know law enforcement throughout Monterey County is looking for him. If he hasn’t turned up by Wednesday, I think it’s safe to assume he’s left the area.”

  She was probably right, but that didn’t do much to allay his concerns. Melody wasn’t aware of the FBI investigation or Vargis’s Russian contacts. Jake wouldn’t be able to relax until the man was safely locked up in the county jail on assault charges or had been spotted by bureau informants back in Seattle.

  Laurel leaned into his line of sight, her expression steely with determination. “I am moving into my apartment Wednesday, no matter where Richard is. Don’t even think about trying to stop me. I refuse to let him dictate the way I live my life.”

  The spark of anger in her eyes reassured him. He raised both hands in concession. “Message received. How about I stop by after work Wednesday to see if you need any help?”

  She might see his efforts to keep her safe as meddling, but it wasn’t going to be easy to content himself with reports from Melody for the next five days.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Laurel opened her mouth to snap back, then stopped herself. “Actually, I might take you up on that offer. I bought a sofa online today and didn’t want to pay the ridiculous delivery charge. If you want to be useful, you can give me a ride in your truck Wednesday evening to pick it up.”

  Jake stuck out his hand with a smile. “It’s a deal. I’ll be here by five-thirty.”

  She gave his hand a single, firm shake. “Fine.”

  “Fine.” He copied her gesture.

  Melody laughed. “Okay, you two. Now, can we eat, please?”

  The mood around the table lightened, and they finished their meal without further mention of Richard or anything else unpleasant. Melody regaled them with stories of dinnertime with a pair of creative, but picky, preschoolers, and Jake described his first attempts at learning to surf. By the time they parted ways, Laurel had almost forgotten her earlier tension. Almost.

  As she and Melody followed the narrow beam of her flashlight back to the house through the dark woods, she registered every change of pitch in the soft swoosh of the night wind through the trees. When a twig snapped just off the path a few feet ahead, she froze briefly before swinging the light toward the sound and catching the tail of a retreating fox. Before she could relax, an owl screeched overhead, sending her pulse back into flight mode.

  She managed a shaky laugh as they reached the house. “I’d forgotten how noisy the woods are at night.”

  Melody unlocked the door and pushed it open. “I have to admit I barely noticed. After four years of parenthood, I’ve forgott
en what quiet sounds like.” As soon as they were inside, she locked the door behind them.

  Laurel had left a couple of lamps on in the living room, and Rufus blinked at them sleepily from his spot on the sofa. She opened the closet to hang up her coat then did the same with Melody’s. “I appreciate your staying here last night and tonight. I know you miss your family, and they miss you.”

  Melody chuckled. “I’m sure Paul misses me, especially in the evening. Most nights it takes an elaborate tag team routine to get both kids bathed, in bed, and asleep.”

  Laurel plunked down on the sofa, tucking one leg under herself. “You make it sound like an ordeal. A lot of people would love to have what you have.”

  Melody settled into the red chair by the windows. “I know, and I’m not complaining. It’s pretty great…as long as nobody has projectile vomiting or diarrhea.”

  Laurel wrinkled her nose. “Eww. Way to turn a person off motherhood.”

  Melody shrugged, her green eyes twinkling. “I just tell it like it is.”

  Laurel laughed then sobered. “Do you think the police will find Richard soon?”

  “I don’t know, but I meant what I said at dinner. If he doesn’t turn up in the next couple of days, I think we can assume he’s left the area.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I don’t know him, but do you think he’s the type to lie low for several days in a cheap motel out by the interstate under an alias, waiting for the perfect opportunity to assault you again? That sounds more like a hardened criminal in a low budget movie than a high-end art dealer.”

  Laurel had to admit it didn’t sound like the Richard Vargis she knew. Then again, yesterday he hadn’t looked or acted anything like the man she’d known for a year and had planned to marry.

  “If you’re still worried, I can arrange to stay one more night or ask for another off-duty officer.” Melody’s lips twitched. “I’m sure Jake would jump at the chance.”

  Laurel rolled her eyes. “Will you stop? I’m not worried, and I’ll be fine. But I will be glad when I don’t feel like I have to keep looking over my shoulder all the time.”

  “We all will. Since there’s a warrant out for his arrest in Monterey County, I’ll call the Sheriff’s Office and ask them to get in touch the Seattle police on Monday. If they’re able to confirm Richard has returned to Seattle, they can take him into custody and hold him for extradition.”

  Some of the tension eased from Laurel’s shoulders. “Thanks. That would be great.”

  The next morning Melody tossed her overnight bag into her car and followed Laurel into Carmel. Together they walked to Gallery St. James, where Melody said goodbye. “I’ll swing by a couple of times while I’m on patrol, but you’re on your own for the drive home and tonight. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

  Laurel inserted her key, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. “I’ll be fine. And remember, I won’t be alone. My mom will be there.”

  Melody hesitated. “That’s true, although I’m not sure she’s much of a deterrent.”

  “She’s resourceful, and she’s a mother. Those things alone make her a force to be reckoned with. You, of all people, should understand that.”

  Her comment brought a laugh from Melody. “So true. A threat to the cubs turns even the mildest female into a snarling mama bear.” She turned and waved. “Be careful and have a good day. I’ll see you later.”

  Laurel hadn’t wanted to admit it to her friend, but she was a little nervous running the gallery on her own with Richard still out there somewhere, unaccounted for. The courtyard was set back at least thirty feet from the main street, and the gallery was located at the far end. It wouldn’t be difficult for someone to assault or abduct her without drawing attention to themselves.

  Fortunately, because of the holiday, the gallery was teeming with tourists all weekend. At times she felt like a hummingbird in a patch of sage, darting from customer to customer, answering questions. Melody and a couple of other officers took turns stopping by, but Laurel’s phone remained silent, and there was no sign of Richard.

  Once, she happened to glance out the front window over the shoulder of an elderly lady from Sacramento who was shopping with her daughter and saw two men in black helmets staring back at her. She was so startled, she quickly looked away, and by the time she checked back, they had disappeared.

  Sunday evening, when she tallied the weekend’s sales, she was amazed by the total. Victor would be pleased when he returned, and she would welcome a couple of well-earned days off, even though she planned to spend most of the time moving.

  The idea of moving led her to thoughts of her new apartment. As she walked to her car, she pictured how she would arrange the furniture and where she would display the art and accessories her mother had given her. The long drive passed quickly as she ticked items off her mental list of things she had managed to accumulate so far and necessities she still needed to buy.

  She awoke the next morning to the clatter of raindrops against the windowpanes and the muffled roar of wind combined with the pounding of waves against the rocks at the base of the cliffs below the house. It was the first storm of the season, a herald of the winter to come. Heavy rains often wrought havoc in Big Sur, but this storm was just a prelude. Despite the whistling wind, the rain was relatively light and the ground still too thirsty to give way and tumble into the sea. On this dark and stormy morning, the temptation to snuggle back under the comforter with Rufus was strong, but Victor was still in Las Vegas, so she dragged herself out of bed.

  The rain let up around the time she reached the Highlands, south of town, and it was barely spitting when she parked her car on a residential street several blocks from the commercial district. To keep her hair under control in the damp and windy conditions, she had braided it and pinned the braid into a twist at the back of her head. She flipped the hood of her raincoat up and headed north, head bent against the wind.

  Outside of downtown, the streets of Carmel were narrow, bumpy, and largely without sidewalks. Huge pines towered overhead, and gnarled old oaks dotted the tiny front yards of picturesque cottages. Since most of the tourists had left after the long holiday weekend, traffic was light. Laurel hadn’t walked more than fifty feet when a pair of motorcyclists riding side-by-side rolled slowly down the street toward her, their rumbling engines disturbing the peaceful atmosphere of the village. Even though there wasn’t much space, she stepped off the pavement onto a strip of gravel to give them a wide berth. The black face shields of their helmets gave her the willies.

  As they passed, they slowed and turned their heads toward her in unison, sending her anxiety up another notch. She stepped back onto the pavement and picked up her pace but hadn’t gone a half block before she heard the muffled thunder of engines behind her.

  Her heart pounded in her throat. As the noise grew louder, she made a split-second decision and grabbed the latch on the gate of the grape-stake fence beside her, trembling with relief to find it unlocked.

  Laurel ran to the front of the house and rang the bell. A dog inside barked frantically, but no one came to the door. As she glanced over her shoulder, the bikers slowed to a stop in the middle of the street, no more than thirty feet from where she stood. Her breath came in short pants as she pushed the bell over and over. The riders stared at her for what felt like an eternity, but was probably no longer than a minute or two, then a garbage truck turned the corner and rumbled toward them. They pulled single-file into the righthand lane and headed back toward the business district at the same sedate pace. As they left, she caught a glimpse of the words on the backs of their jackets—Mensajeros de la Muerte.

  Based on their builds, she’d bet a week’s salary they were the same men she’d seen peering into the windows of Martin’s antique shot last Saturday. Sweat broke out on her upper lip, and her hands trembled as she shoved them into the pockets of her coat.

  She walked back to the front gate and waited until they disappeared down the stree
t. After five minutes, her pulse and breathing had slowed. Despite wearing heels, she jogged the remaining blocks to work, her gaze darting up and down each street she crossed. Fortunately, the street in front of the gallery was busy, filled with double-parked wholesale food trucks delivering supplies to nearby restaurants and the small grocery store across the street. Laurel slowed her pace, relatively certain no one would zoom up and try to make off with her in front of so many witnesses.

  Still, she cast nervous glances around the courtyard as she unlocked the door, and once inside, had to fight the urge to lock it again. However, as the morning passed, her anxiety faded. Only a couple of casual lookers stopped in, so she spent most of her time perusing websites featuring cheap, build-it-yourself furniture. She found some tall bookshelves that looked relatively easy to assemble and would be perfect for her apartment. She couldn’t wait to move in. The thought of her new space brought a rush of pleasure, and she refused to let Richard or a pair of antique-loving bikers steal it from her.

  She was alone in the gallery around four-thirty when the bell over the front door jangled and Melody Hardison walked in, followed by a tall, heavily-built man wearing the tan uniform and sleeve patch that identified him as a Monterey County Sheriff’s deputy. At the sight of their somber expressions, her fingers tightened on the computer mouse. The deputy hung back a step as Melody approached the reception desk.

  Laurel rolled her chair back and stood. Whatever the purpose of their visit, it couldn’t be good. She grasped the edge of the desk with both hands before raising her eyes to meet Melody’s steady gaze. “What is it?”

  “You might want to sit down again.” Melody’s tone was serious, but gentle.

  A sudden, horrible fear gripped Laurel, tightening its tendrils around her heart. “Is it my mother?” Her voice cracked. “Has something happened to her?”

  Melody reached out to touch her arm. “No—”

  “Is it Sage…or Angelica?” Laurel’s body shook. She couldn’t bear to think of either of her sisters being seriously hurt…or worse.