“All kinds of ship folklore,” the Sheriff said. “That’s kind of his thing—the sea. He can tell you about myths from all kinds of cultures.”
“His own, too, right?” Laura asked. “German? Such as the, ah…”
“Kaboutermannekes,” Nate supplied.
“Yeah, he likes to talk about them,” the Sheriff agreed. “How did you know about that?”
“It’s a lead,” Laura said. She didn’t sound like she was open to answering any further questions about it. “What about his address?”
“This time of day, he’ll be on his boat, theSaint Marie, down toward the end of the ships. It’s the one with the yellow and blue flag,” Landyn said. “Hold on, you’re not looking into him for this, are you? All that folklore, it’s nonsense. And Cody only tells it to entertain the tourists, anyway. It’s not real.”
“We’ll be the judge of that,” Laura said shortly. “Sheriff? Don’t you dare call him and warn him. I don’t care if he’s your friend. He is not to be forewarned. Do you hear me?”
“Sure,” the Sheriff said, which was not the most convincing promise.
Laura swore as she ended the call, and Nate couldn’t help but agree.
“We need to get there right now,” he said. “Come on. If he’s right at the end, we need to move fast.”
“Right,” Laura agreed, nodding, and they both set out at a good pace. At times like this, Nate was glad of his training and the fact that he’d kept up his level of physical fitness—even improved it—since the academy. It wasn’t always easy to find the motivation to hit the gym every day when they were back at headquarters, but on the other hand, it made a huge difference at times like this.
At times when he knew he might need to break into a run after yet another suspect, right on the heels of yesterday’s dip in the water.
“It’s got to be him this time, hasn’t it?” Laura asked, a little breathlessly as they speed-walked along.
“I think so,” Nate said. “He fits your vision.”
“Right,” Laura said, though he could hear the doubt in her voice.
“Your vision led us to the killer on our last case,” he said. It was a tenuous form of comfort. It had, but only after they had both mistaken an earlier event and an earlier suspect for the real thing.
Laura said nothing, both of them concentrating on walking. But he couldn’t help but think it was likely that she had an answer for him in her own head: something to refute what he had said. There was nothing he could do to answer the concern she didn’t give voice to.
He just had to make sure that they took down the killer—and like she’d said before, take the pressure from both of their shoulders for a while.
“I can’t see any yellow and blue flags,” Nate said, shading his eyes. There were only ten or so ships left before they hit the end.
“Did you say yellow and blue?” someone called from the side, making his steps falter. “You looking for theSaint Marie?”
“Yes,” Nate called back, moving toward the man who had spoken. He looked to be one of the other sailors, resting in the shadow of his own vessel until he was needed. “Do you know where it is?”
The man pointed out to sea with the end of a pipe he had been smoking.
“How long ago?” Laura asked. The wind whipped a strand of her blonde hair around from her ponytail, trailing into her eyes, and she shook her head impatiently.
“Twenty minutes,” the sailor shrugged. “He’ll be back in four or so hours, if you want to wait.”
Laura looked at Nate. He knew what she was thinking. She didn’t want to wait. Neither, for that matter, did he.
“Can you get us out to him?”
The sailor blinked at him, then looked over his shoulder at his ship as if surprised to find it there.
“We need to catch up with him,” Laura added. “Do you know where he’ll be?”
The sailor looked out at the water as if he was nonplussed to see that there too. “Well…I can find him on the radar. I have an idea of where he’ll be.”
“Then let’s go,” Nate said, showing him his FBI badge.