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“It’s a bad idea to lie to the police,” Scott said grimly, “but, no. I told him I hadn’t seen a girl with brown hair and glasses, which I haven’t. He seemed pretty intent on finding you. The problem is, if he comes to this marina and starts asking around, he might get the answer he’s looking for. Someone could have seen you climb on board.”
Fear coursing through her veins, she flopped on the end of the bed.
“I can’t stay here,” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “I’m a sitting duck. Can we take off? I’ll pay whatever you want.”
“I told you I wasn’t taking you anywhere until I knew what was going on. That hasn’t changed. In fact, after meeting—”
“But it’s a really long story,” she bleated, cutting him off and staring at him with pleading eyes, “and he could walk down the dock asking questions any minute.”
“Then I guess you’d better start talking, and you can start by telling me if he really is a detective.”
“Yeah, but he’s a crook with a capital K.”
“What about you? Are you a crook with a capital K?”
“No! Of course not!”
“Don’t shout at me,” he warned, lowering his voice. “You disappeared with no word six months ago, and now you’ve shown up out of the blue apparently running for your life. Do you seriously expect me to just say, sure, no problem, I’ll help you disappear?”
“I, uh, when you put it like that…”
“Beth, I don’t know anything about you. Or should I be calling you Elizabeth?”
Scott could see the panic in her big blue eyes, but the time for fun and games was over. Though he had an unnervingly strong urge to help her, he didn’t want to be found hiding a fugitive.
“So, uh, you know my name?” she asked hesitantly.
“Elizabeth McKay.”
“What else?”
“Nope,” Scott said firmly. “You’re the one who needs to be answering questions.”
“Hello? Anyone here?” As Dan Miller’s deep voice echoed down from the deck, Elizabeth gasped, then hurriedly dove to the floor alongside the bed furthest from the windows.
“Fuck! I should have pulled down the shades,” she whispered frantically. “Oh, dear God, I hope he didn’t spot me.”
“Captain Scott? Hello? It’s Detective Miller. I need to speak with you.”
“If he’d spotted you, he wouldn’t be yelling for me,” Scott said softly.
“Can he get in?”
“No, everything’s locked up, and like I said, he can’t see inside the salon.”
“Hello? Hello?”
“He’s a persistent asshole,” Scott grunted.
“Persistent?” she repeated. “Trust me, you have no idea. What’s that noise?”
“It sounds as if he’s rattling the door.”
“Shit. He knows how to pick locks. He even carries a wallet with special tools.”
“Stay here.”
Darting into the bathroom, Scott hastily stripped, stood under the shower for a few seconds, then wrapped a towel around his waist and hurried up to the salon. He entered just as Dan Miller walked through the door.
