Three Weeks Last Spring (18 page)

"I'm guessing you've come for the fish?"

"I'm here from the State Department."
He flashed his ID badge at her to prove it.

"Right, it's down on the grass under a sack.
I ma
naged to drag
one
above the tide
l
ine as your colleague requested
, but there’s another down on the beach.
"

"That's okay, I'll retrieve them.
You didn't touch it with your bare hands, did you?"

"No, I wore gloves.
And I didn't check the whole of the cove, just
along the water’s edge
, so there may be others."

"Don't worry.
I'll have a scout around once I've bagged the
ones you’ve found
."

Skye cringed at the thought of ano
ther stench-filled excursion.
"Y
ou don't wan
t me to come with you, do you?"

"
No need, I can
mange.
We've got your details if we need to contact you."

"Good, because it smells to high heaven down there.
I'll leave you to it then."

Skye breathed a sigh of relief
and
closed the door.
At least she didn't have to go near the stinking carcasses again.
She st
ood by the window and watched the official carefully bag
and
label
the fish.
She
marveled
at his ability to withstand the
odor
that had nearly made her vomit.
He walked to the end of the dock and looked around before retrieving a pair of waders and a net from the back of his pickup.
A short time later, he dragged half a dozen or so fish from under the dock and proceeded to bag them too.
He then carried them up the beach and placed the
m with the others in his truck.

Moments later th
e official knocked at her door.

"Sorry to trouble you again, ma'am, but I've got a few questions.
Hope you don't mind."

"You'd better come
in
."
Skye stepped aside to let him
enter
.

"Have you noticed anything like this before?"

"No
,
I’m on vacation and only renting the cabin
.
Is this a common occurrence?"

"Not really.
Most salmon die of natural causes.
Maybe once or twice a year we find some that have been contaminated in some way.
Have you
seen anyone acting suspicious
ly
, or any
strange vessels in the cove or vehicles using the track?"

Skye thought of Walker, who ha
d been in the cove when she first arrived, carrying a fish
and
rod.
And while the man could be infuriating, he was far too knowledgeable about the island and its wildlife to want to deliberately destroy it.

"
I ha
ven't, but then I'm often out."

"Okay, just thought I'd ask.
If you do see anything suspicious or
anymore
fish turn up be sure to let us know right away.
Here's my card.
Give the office a call and we'll send someone over."

Skye looked at the card; no name, just the departmental information and a number.

"Sure."

"Enjoy the rest of your time with us here and thanks for
informing us
about the fish.
Have a nice day."

Skye closed the door behind him and crossed to the table.
Have a nice day?
Sure, provided
there are no more
stinking fish.
She picked up he
r cup and took a swallow.
Ugh…
cold coffee, she hate
d
cold coffee.
Resting her head in her left hand, she thought about Walker.
Could he really b
e involved in anything illegal?

He’d certainly been hanging round
,
and had a habit of disappearing and re-appearing without warning.
And she hadn’t forgotten the fact that he'd once warned her to keep off the trails and out of his way.
He'd also been quick to suggest he move into the cabin as their relationship became more intimate.
Was that so he could keep an eye on her?
Could Walker have an ulterior motive for getting to know her?
Why would he want to keep tabs on her anyway, she was only a
vacationer?
It
just didn't make sense.

Skye was sure she'd read somewhere that smuggling in this part of the States was rife, especially with Canada only a short distance away.
Perhaps Walker was involved in a smuggling racket and used th
e
cove to bring his illegal haul ashore.
Maybe that was
the reason he was so annoyed when he found her on the dock that first day.
It would also account for his frequent and mysterious comings and goings.

It was
a stupid idea.
But he had to earn a living somehow and he didn't strike her as someone who had enough money to do nothing at all.
He drove a relatively new truck and had an expensive looking cruiser.
There was nothing unusual about that.
Most of the inhabitants on the island owned both a car and a boat, so why should Walker be any different?
But hadn't he'd told her he didn't live on the island?

She was infuriated at the direction her thoughts were headed.
Why should she be bothered how Walker earned his living or why he owned both a boat and a truck?
It
wa
s none of her business
,
and
besides
she couldn’t sit there all day allowing
her imaginatio
n run riot, she had work to do.

By ten that night
,
s
he was grumpy, tired, and hungry.
When she looked at the screen, the code merged into a single blurry mass.
She'd done enough for one day.
She e-mailed John to see if he'd had any success in getting the program to work,
and
then shut
down her laptop.

Walker was eager to leave Seattle that morning having finally resolved his business problems.
He grabbed his ba
g from the apartment, and drove
out to Elliot Bay
where
his
sea
plane
was moored
.
He flew into Friday Harbor while most of the inhabitants were still in their beds.
It had been a
grueling
week, but as of late last night Walker Environmental Research was once again open for business.
And although the issue of illegal dumping hadn't been resolved, now that his company was running at full speed he could turn all his attention to finding out who was responsible for these
atrocities.

He rubbed his hand across the stubble on his chin and decided that a shave and a shower wouldn't go amiss
, and then a
fter
breakfast he
woul
d
go make his apologies to Skye.
It was one conversation he wasn't looking forward to and he fully expected her to be spitting mad at him.
He'd been a brainless twit where she was concerned, and hoped that once he explained the reasons for his hasty departure, she
woul
d forgive him.
If that didn't work, he had an ace up his sleeve.
He'd booked them into the
Salish Inn and Spa
for a
three-night
stay.
The suite had a wood burning fire, a whirlpool tub and a balcony overlook
ing the rainbow shrouded falls.

McCabe's call came through as he
drove
out of town.

"Say again, Joe?
You're breaking up.
There's too much static on the line.
"

Joe's voice crackled over the line once more.
"Fish…
washed up… island… cabin… north of…
Harbor…
off…
road."

"Joe, if you can hear me.
It's no use.
I can't make out what you're saying.
Hold on while I pull over."
Walker
stopped
his truck on the side of the road.
"Okay, run that by me again."

"The department took a couple of calls late yesterday, from home owners on the island.
One lives out at Rocky Bay.
The other was from a woman staying in a cabin off Roche Harbor Road.
Both said they found dead fish, either washed up on the shore or floating in the water.
The local office sent a guy out and he's bagged and tagged the carcasses and taken them away for analysis."

Walker groaned and rubbed his forehead.
"Where are they now?"

"
At
the
University Laboratories.
One of the marine biologists there is doing the autopsies.
I made sure they kept them, as I knew you were flying in this morning.
Can you go take a look?"

"Sure.
I assume they have all the details
, including the location of
where the fish were found."

"Yeah, it's all waiting for you.
I'll let them know to expect you.
How soon do you think you
can
be there?"

"About twenty minutes—I was just on my way to the lodge."

"Let me know what you find."

"
Sure
."

These days Walker felt like a badly operated puppet, string tangling into string.
He turned his truck around and
drove
back to town.
Twenty-five minutes, he showed his ID to the security guard on the gate, and entered the Friday Harbor Laboratory Campus of the University of Washington.
He knew the place like the back of his hand.
Ten Years ago, he’d undertak
en
his own research towards his Masters Degree.
He parked next to the
cafeteria
, and followed the path down to a group of low buildings housing
the main laboratories.

The campus was situated on a huge four hundred and eighty-four acre tract of land overlooking one of the many bays on San Juan Island.
It was a marine biologist’s dream.
There were ten research and teaching labs, all equipped to an exceptionally high standard.
The labs also
owned
a number of biological preserves around the island, where scientists could undertake resear
ch in a controlled environment.

The laboratory Walker
needed
was close to the shoreline a little way up from the campus's berthing facilities.
When he entered the lab, the short balding biologist was in the process of peeling off his gloves.
From the look on his face what he'd found wasn't good news.

"
Mr.
Walker?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"
Mr.
McCabe said to expect you.
I've completed the autopsies on the fish that came in yesterday.
The two from Rocky Bay
appear to have
died from natural causes, although
I won’t know for sure until the results of the biopsies I’ve taken come back.
However, the ones from the location off Roche Harbor Road were definitely contaminated—"

"—with a high concentration of PCBs?"

"That's right.
How did you know?"

"Call it an educated guess.
Can you let me have a detailed analysis of the chemicals found?
I want to make a comparison with
the
fish I discovered earlier to see if it’s the same."

"Sure.
My secretary is typing up
my
report now
."

"Thanks.
Just one more thing—do you have the exact location where the second batch of fish was found?"

"They'll have the details in the office.
You can collect
them along with the report
on your way out."

"Thanks."

Walker sat in his truck and opened the brown folder he'd been
given
.
He quickly scanned the marine biologist's report.
While he couldn't be sure until he checked his notes, he had a feeling that the composition of the chemicals was the same as those in the fish he'd found a few weeks earlier.
He shoved the papers back in the envelope.
He'd read the rest back
at
the lodge and then go take a look at the two sites for himself before contacting McCabe and telling him the news.

An hour or so later, his suspicions were confirmed.
The chemicals that killed this latest batch of fish were identical to those ingested by the fish he'd found earlier.
That meant only one
thing
;
they
ha
d come from the same source.
Crossing his study to a cabinet on the far wall, he took out a map of San Juan Island and studied it carefully.
C
hemicals being dumped at
sea
would be dispersed by the action of the waves and tide.
As a consequence fish in a wider area would be affected.
Only a few would be washed
ashore
because of the strong currents around the islands, which meant that whoever was dumping the stu
ff was doing so
close to the shore
.

That gave Walker another idea.
The islands that made up the San Juan archipelago were generally rocky and rimmed by precipitous shores,
with the occasional
deeply cut fjord-like inlet.
So it had to be someone who knew the islands and who was using a small vessel
,
such as a fishing boat.

Walker shuffled impatiently through the papers on his desk looking for the report.
Halfway down the first page he found the addres
s of the homeowner in Rocky Bay, and on
the second
,
the address of the property off Roche Harbor Road.
The
colo
u
r
drained from his face
and
his lips compressed into a tight thin
line.

The second addres
s listed was that of his cabin.

He didn’t hesitate.
He grabbed his coat off the stand in the hall and
dashed
out the door.

***

Skye had been up since five breaking down the strings of computer code into single commands and was now a third of the way through the program.
So far it perform
ed
as it should, registering every piece of legitimate information sent and received over the Internet from her PC.
But she needed to test the software against
unauthorized
access from a hostile computer, and f
or that she required
John's help.

She divided the screen into two separate windows, and connected to the Internet.
She sat back and waited.
If the software John
was
running in London infiltrat
ed
her laptop a warning message would pop up on her screen giving the IP address of the rogue computer.
Nothing happened.
At last she'd found the error.
Now all she had to do was re-write the section of code, integrate it back into the program and get John to test it.
It should only take another couple of days and then she could get back t
o enjoying what was
left of her
vacation
.

Without warning the front door of the cabin burst open and Walker crossed the floor in a few quick strides.
He yanked Skye to her
feet.

"Are you okay?"

Skye's heart pounded in her chest.
"Haven't you heard of knocking?
You scared t
he living daylights out of me."

His voice was rough with anxiety.
"I'm serious.
Are you
okay
?"

"Why shouldn't I be?
What the hell's the m
atter with you, Walker?"

He took a steadying breath and released her.
"I heard about the incident with the fish and was worried about you.
That's all."

"And that was enough for you to nearly take the door off its hinge?
It was only a few fish for goodness sake.
Besides, I was the one who found them.
They stank to high he
aven, I didn't even touch them.
"

He attempted to lighten the situation and play down his overreaction.
"It can't ha
ve been a pleasant experience."

"It wasn't.
But it doesn't explain why you came storming in her
e as if your tail was on fire."

He faked boyish grin.
"Aren't you pleased to see me?"

Skye struggled not to laugh.
"Where have you been all this time?
A phone call would have been appreciated, or don't you have phones in Seattle?"

"
I'm sorry about that.
If you offer me a cup of coffee, I'll explain.
You can hate me if you like, and then you can tell me what you've
been up to since I went away."

Skye looked at him suspiciously.
She returned his smile with a shake of her head.
"A cup of coffee, huh?
And I'm allowed to hate you as well?
Seems fair. I'll put the kettle on."

Before she had chance to move, Walker pulled her into his arms and kissed her long and hard.
All her resolve to stay
angry
shattered into a million pieces and she returned his kiss with reckless abandon, desire, and longing.
When he turned her loose her heart was hammering in her ears.
She cleared her throat, and tried to regain c
ontrol of her wayward emotions.

“Coffee… right…
hatred…"

She escaped to the safety of the kitchen.
The man was downright dangerous, what with his deva
stating grin and lethal kisses.

"Apart from finding a pile of rotting fish on the beach, what else have you been
up to
?"

"Nothing very exciting
; r
eading, walking, and watching the tide come in and go out."

"What's this?"
He picked up the notepad from next to her laptop and scanned the page.

Skye handed him a cup of coffee, then snatched the pad from his hand.
"Just something I've been working on.
Nothing that would interest you."

"Thanks."
He took the cup from her hand.
"What makes you th
ink I wouldn't be interested?"
He nudged the mouse next to her laptop.
The computer screen sprang to life and he stared at the jumble of symbols and letters before him.
He glared at Skye. "What's this?"

"I
told you,
something I'm working on."

"Skye, I may not be a computer geek, but I
recogniz
e
computer code when I see it.
You're involved aren't you?"
He slammed his mug down on the table and caught hold of her wrist.

"Involved?" Skye gasped.
"Involved in what?
It's what I do f
or a living
.
I
’m a
software
designer
."

"Oh yeah, and I fell off the proverbial turnip truck yesterday!
I knew your turning up here was more than a coincidence.
Your big blue eyes don't fool me anymore, honey
.
"
He squeezed Skye's wrist harder.
There was a bitter edge of cynicism in his voice.
"I'll get the truth out of you sooner or later, so you might as well admit it."

Skye screamed.
"Admit what?"
She freed her wrist from his iron-like grip, and rubbed it vigorously.
"I honestly don't know what you're talking about.
I'm telling you the truth.
I design software.
As for being here—I'm on vacation, but you know that."

"Do I?
I don't know very much about you at all, now I come to think of it.
You've never
told me much
about yourself.
And my instincts tell me you're involved up to your sweet little neck
.
"

Skye shook her head and nervously moistened her dry lips.
"I'm not involved in anything.
What's this all about?
You disappear for days, you bastard, and then storm in here without so much as a word of warning.
Now you're accusing me of—just what are you accusing me of?"
S
kye demanded in a shrill voice.

"You've been hacking into my company's computer, destroying files in an attempt to discredit me and my business."

Skye would have laughed out loud if she hadn't been so angry.
She saw the steely glint in Walker's eyes, warning her that he was deadly serious.
She turned her back on him, and went and stood by the fireplace.
It gave her the opportunity to gather her thoughts.

"You're being cruel, presumptive and preposterous!
Look, even if I were aware that you owned a company, which I wasn't until now, why would I want to hack
into
your computer to discredit you when I don't even know what it is you do?"

"I'm a marine biologist."
He crossed the room and
stopped
inches from her.

Acutely conscious of his tall frame, Skye titled her head and stared into his eyes.
"So tell me,
Mr.
Walker, why would a software designer want to hack into
a
computer belonging to a marine biologist, and yours in particular?"

"To find out how close I am to discovering who's responsible for dumping chemicals
offshore
?"

She threw up her hands in disgust.
"What?
You’re being ludicrous.
You're forgetting one important thing—I don’t live in America
!"

"No, but you can hack into a comput
er from anywhere in the world."

"
True, b
ut that's not the issue here."

"What is?"

"The truth and…
trust?
T
his is my first visit to the San Juan Islands.
I don't know anyone here apart from you, so how could I be involved in anything illegal?"

"You might not be directly involved," Walker countered, "but someone could have hired you and sent you over here.
You're a beautiful woman.
They probably reckoned that your appearance here would attract my attention and that sooner or later yo
u
woul
d find your way into my bed."

Walker's sarcasm was not lost on Skye.
The lascivious glint in his eyes sickened her and before
could stop
it her hand shot out and she slap
ped his face.

"How dare you!" s
he said
. She shook with
anger.
"How dare you think such a thing of me?"

Walker's face stung from the blow.
He covered it with his hand.
"Oh, lady, believe me, I dare, especially when my business
and reputation are at stake."
He clamped both her arms to her sides in case she had ideas about hitting him
again
.

"How m
any more
times do I have to tell you?
I don't know anything about any chemicals or illegal dumping.
Besides, I can prove what I say is true."

Walker's lips twisted into a cynical smile.
"
Y
eah?
And just how do you propose to do that?"

"Let me call my business partner.
He'll
confirm everything I've said."

He relaxed his hold on her arms.
Skye stepped back, putting a little distance between them.

"He's probably in on it too.
Why should I believe him anymore than I believe you?"

Skye's body sagged in defeat.
She couldn't think of an answer that would convince Walker of her integrity.
He was right.
Although John could confirm
everything
she
ha
d said, there was no reason why Walker shoul
d accept it as the truth.

"You obviously won't listen to reason, so just get the hell out of my sight."

"Sorry, lady, but I'm not going anywhere.
I'm staying here twenty-four/seven until either you tell me the truth or your friends with the nasty habits turn up to see why you're not keeping in touch."

"Now look here," Skye yelled.
"You can't just waltz in here and accuse me of some hideous crime and ride roughshod over me.
I have rights!"
She glanced at the phone on the table next to the sofa, and weighed up her chances of reaching it before Walker.

"I
f you'd only be reasonable and listen to what I have to say, I’m sure we could clear this up," she
continued
.
She softened her tone in the hope that
he
wouldn't notice she was edging her way towards the table.

Walker ran a hand through his hair.
Arguing was getting him nowhere, but he wasn't about to change his mind.
Skye was a world-class liar, he'd give her that.
She may be beautiful, even passionate in bed, but the woman standing in front of him was five foot five inches of seething anger
and he didn't trust her at all.

"Why don't you
speak to
the realtor?
S
he will have checked my credentials before I rented the cabin.
Perhaps she can convince you that I'm a
n honest, law-abiding citizen."

Skye took another tentative step towards the phone.
She tried hard to be calm but under her anger, all the old feelings of betrayal were flooding back.
It was as if Michael was grabbing her, threatening her all over again.
He was as bad as Michael.
He was Michael!
The cold hand of fear touched her skin.
Walker didn't care about her at all.
He'd used her just like Michael had used her and once again her trust had sadly been misplaced, but this time she wasn't abo
ut to be used against her will.