“The water taxi is tied up at the North Sound pier. I can be on the island in fifteen minutes.”
“Be careful, Cate.” Tessa ended the call, and Cate scrambled back up the bank to the road.
“Is Dustin okay?” Henry asked as he met her, the garbage bag still in his hand.
“I think so. Someone set the lighthouse on fire and took the shot at Dustin.” She took a deep breath. “Dustin says the man has a bin of bones.”
Henry’s mouth fell open. “Holy crap. What’s he doing with them? And how do you put out a fire on an island?”
Cate only knew the answer to one of his questions. “The fireboat’s water cannons can reach the lighthouse. I need to get to Adam’s water taxi before he leaves the pier.”
“I’m coming with you. Let me grab a medical kit.” Henry ran across the street and through the front door of his clinic. He came out five seconds later without the garbage bag and carrying a case that looked like a large fishing tackle box. “Let’s go.”
They caught Adam on the pier as he untied his boat.
“We need to get to Ruby’s Island now!” Cate ordered as she stepped down into his boat.
“I’ve got a pickup in Harlot’s,” Adam told her from the dock with a glare. “You’ll have to wait.”
“We’ve got a fire and gunshots on Ruby’s,” Cate informed him. “Get moving.”
To her relief, Adam threw the ropes on the boat and followed Henry down the steps.
“On it,” Adam replied. He put the boat in reverse and gunned the engine.
She almost forgave him for his lecherous stares from her first ride.
Fifteen minutes later, they were at the small boat dock on Ruby’s Island. The lighthouse fire was raging out of control, a tall tower of flames.
“There’s no saving it,” Cate whispered to Henry, her throat growing thick at the sight. A piece of my past.
“I don’t recognize that boat,” Adam said, pointing with his chin at a tied-up boat as he pulled up to the dock. He hopped out and stayed low, tying up his own boat. The fire whooshed and crackled, filling the quiet island with its noise of destruction. Ash blew around the dock like snowflakes. Cate covered the area, searching for a gunman. Her weapon stopped on a man who staggered out of the woods, waving one arm at them. Dustin.
His other arm was tucked inside his coat, and he struggled to keep his footing as he came down the steep bank to the dock. His kit in hand, Henry leaped out of the boat to meet Dustin, and Cate followed, keeping one eye on their surroundings.
Dustin collapsed on the dock, catching himself with his good arm. “I’ve been shot!” he gasped, his eyes wide and his cheeks tearstained. Now that he was closer, Cate saw dark blood had stained one arm of his navy coat. He was lightly coated with ash.
Henry knelt beside him, laying him down on his back. “We know.”
The young man closed his eyes. “Fucking hurts!”
Henry eased Dustin’s good arm out of his sleeve.
“Dustin,” Cate asked. “Who shot you?”
“A guy,” he panted. “Don’t know him. He was digging in the same place where you found those bones. He had a bin of bones with him, and I think he was going to bury them too.” He shrieked as Henry moved his other arm.
“Dustin, I’m sorry to make you talk,” said Cate, “but we need to know what’s happening. Did he say anything to you?” Loud snapping sounds from the burning lighthouse made Cate and Henry duck. Looking back, Cate saw a large piece of flaming debris fall to the ground. We’re far enough away to be safe.
“When I spotted him, I asked him how the lighthouse caught on fire. Startled him. He was already digging.” He moaned as Henry did something to his upper arm.
“And?”
“He pointed a gun at me and said he set the fire. I put my hands up and was backing away when he shot. It hit my arm, and I ran into the woods. Hey! Watch it!” he yelled at Henry. “Fuuuuuuck!” His body arched in pain.
Henry didn’t flinch and continued to rinse Dustin’s wound.
“I’m going to find him,” Cate told the two of them.
“That guy is nuts,” Dustin said, shooting angry looks at his doctor.
“What do you mean?” asked Cate as she started to leave.
“He said he had to burn the ghost in the lighthouse.”
Cate and Henry stared at each other. “The ghost?” Henry asked.
“Yeah. I assumed he meant Ruby. Everyone says she lives there. He’s an idiot. You can’t kill a ghost,” Dustin muttered and then clenched his teeth together.
“Noted. I’ll be back.” She checked her weapon again and brushed ash from her eyelashes.
“Cate! Shouldn’t you wait for backup?” Henry sat on his heels, his eyes locked on her.
“No. We’ve got an active shooter. Procedure is to go after him.”
A long moment stretched between them. Henry pressed his lips into a thin line, and he gave a short nod. Cate turned and dashed up the hill.
Cate bent low under the trees, leading with her weapon, keeping her ears open. She’d kept far to the right from where the bones had been found, hoping to loop around and come in from the north, where she remembered there were boulders she could use for cover.
As she moved away from the fire, its roar quieted, and she listened for sounds of digging.
I hear him.
She reached the boulders and carefully looked around one.
Twenty feet away, a tall man with his back to her thrust his shovel in the loose dirt. The bin with the young girl’s bones was beside him. Cate looked for his weapon. She didn’t see it. She took a breath, ready to identify herself, when she realized he was crying. Blubbering crying. Heaves-and-snot-and-choking-breaths crying. He was muttering something between the shovelfuls of dirt, and she strained to hear it.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“FBI!” she shouted. “Put down your weapon, and get on your knees.”
The man jerked and spun in her direction, his shovel in his hands.
Milton. The stuffy waiter.
Cate stared. Why . . .
She didn’t have time to figure it out. A man had been shot. “Where’s your weapon, Milton?” she shouted. “Throw it aside!”
“I didn’t mean to do it!” he shrieked, his face wet with tears. He ran the back of his hand under his nose. “It wasn’t my fault!”
“Throw aside your gun. Then you can tell me what happened.” Where is his gun?
He clutched the shovel. “You don’t understand. It was an accident!”
“What was an accident?” At least his hands are occupied with the shovel.
“The girl. I didn’t mean to hurt her. It was to be just for a few days.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Milton, and I’m still waiting for you to get rid of your gun!”
“I was going to bring her back. She was fine!”
“Who?”
“The girl. Becca.”
Cate’s heart sank. “Becca Conan? Did you . . . hurt Becca?”
“It was an accident!”
Metal pressed into the back of Cate’s head. “Lower your weapon,” said a female voice.
Ice ripped through Cate’s limbs, and she fought to breathe.
I screwed up. I didn’t check for another person.