Children of the Sea 01 - Sea Witch

away?
     
    “They’re not telling me much of anything,” he admitted.
     
    “I’m closed out of the investigation.”
     
    “They are stupid.”
     
    Her fierceness made him smile. “Reynolds is all right. Anyway, they have no idea what they’re up against. What they’re looking for.”
     
    “So what will you do now?”
     
    “My job. CID can’t stop me from talking to people. They’re concentrating their attention on the cove, where the body was found. But that night on the point . . . I saw something. All I can do is hope this latest incident will encourage another witness to come forward.”
     
    “Ticket up!” Antonia bawled through the pass-through. She turned to Maggie, planting her hands on her hips. “And you can take the garbage out. I’m not paying you to stand around making moony eyes at the chief.”
     
    Maggie stiffened. “I do not make moony eyes.”
     
    “I call it like I see it,” Antonia said.
     
    “I’ve got it,” Caleb said, to keep the peace. “You’re not paying me to stand around either.”
     
    He hefted the bag from the can by the door.
     
    “Take care,” Maggie said.
     
    “He’s not going to drop it,” Antonia said. “Or are you worried the door’s gonna hit that fine ass of his on the way out?”
     
    Caleb glanced at Maggie, pink-cheeked with steam or— was she actually blushing? “Easy, Mayor. That’s sexual harassment talk.”
     
    240
    “Ha. Don’t get your hopes up.”
     
    Good advice. But . . . moony eyes ?
     
    “ I call it like I see it .”
     
    He was smiling as he hauled the trash out the back door.
     
    Gulls yammered and circled over the alley as if the Dumpster were a fishing boat at cleaning time. Caleb slung the trash bag up and in, startling a chorus of protest from the gulls and a sudden, furtive movement at the edge of his vision.
     
    Sniper .
     
    His hand dropped to his gun.
     
    Son of a bitch .
     
    He caught himself, his brain wresting control from his instincts. Not a sniper. Only a rat or a raccoon after garbage. Or the cat, what was his name, Hercules.
     
    Caleb shook his head in disgust. Yeah, all he needed to boost his credibility was to get caught discharging his weapon at the restaurant cat.
     
    Still, something wasn’t right. He felt it, like the beat of his blood or the rasp of his breath, an instinct honed in other doorways, other alleys half a world away. He heard a scrape, caught a flicker of shadow just around the corner.
     
    Not a rat, not a rat, not a rat , his pulse drummed.
     
    He hugged the side of the building, using it for cover, his gun ready at his thigh. He angled his head for a quick sneak peek.
     
    And came face to face with the bleary-eyed, haggard visage of his father.
     
    Confusion robbed Caleb of breath. Of thought. “Dad?”
     
    Bart Hunter blinked, thrusting his head forward like an old sea turtle.
     
    241
    Shit. Caleb’s fear blurred into anger. “What the hell are you doing? I almost shot you.”
     
    “Took the day off,” his father said. “I’m entitled, aren’t I? A man’s entitled to a day off after forty fucking years on a boat.”
     
    “Entitled, fine.” Caleb bit out the words. “What are you doing here?”
     
    Bart dropped his gaze. “Came to see that girl of yours. Maggie.”
     
    Maggie .
     
    Caleb’s blood ran cold. “Why?”
     
    Bart drew himself up. At sixty-three, he was still tall, lean, and weathered as a spar. Tough enough to go out day after day, year after year, despite hangovers and fog. Vigorous enough to set his traps and haul his catch.
     
    Strong enough to overpower a selkie ? Caleb’s hands clenched into fists.
     
    “Since when do I have to give you reasons?” Bart blustered.
     
    But Caleb was done with his years of lies and evasions. “What did you do with the sealskin?”
     
    Bart’s mouth opened. Shut. Opened again. “How did you find out about that?”
     
    Rage surged inside Caleb. “Where is it?”
     
    His father must have seen the violence in his face, because he stammered, “I don’t know. She found it. Your mother. She took it. I never saw her again.”
     
    Caleb’s fists loosened at his sides. “My mother found it.”
     
    “Yes. That’s why she left us.”
     
    “And you don’t know about another sealskin.”
     
    “No.”
     
    242
    “Then what the fuck are you doing here?” Caleb roared.
     
    The gulls in the alley flapped their wings, disturbed from their perch atop the Dumpster. The smell of