Donovans 01 - Amber Beach

said absently, scanning down a page of the log.
    “You sound distracted.”
    “I am. I’m reading Kyle’s boat log.”
    “Anything good?”
    “The most interesting part is what isn’t here.”
    “Such as?”
    “The clock that automatically keeps track of engine time doesn’t agree with the hours Kyle logged in.”
    “Translation?”
    “Either he stopped keeping the log before he left for his last trip to Kaliningrad, or he came back and used the boat without writing in the log.”
    “Then he’s alive?” Char asked quickly.
    “Or was. Ellen said the corpse with the missing fingers was a Russian hit man. They usually hunt in pairs.”
    “Lovely.”
    “Yeah.” Jake closed the log with a snap. “I’ve got to meet Kyle’s sister soon. Anything else for me?”
    “His sister? What’s going on?”
    “I’m teaching her how to fish on Kyle’s boat.”
    There was a brief silence followed by a neutral “Convenient.”
    “That’s one word for it. If you leave any messages on my answering machine, be careful. I probably won’t be the only one listening.”
    “Gotcha. Do you think Ms. Donovan knows where the amber is?”
    “If not her, then some other Donovan. She’s the only Donovan within my reach.”
    “And you think the amber is in the San Juans?”
    “I’m counting on it. Getting my hands on that shipment and clearing my name is the only way Emerging Resources will be allowed back in the Russian Federation.”
    “What’s the sister like?”
    Jake didn’t say anything.
    “Uh oh,” Charlotte said. “A female version of Kyle?”
    “Very female.”
    “Remember Ellen.”
    “Honor isn’t Ellen.”
    “You’re telling me? Ellen couldn’t find honor with a dictionary.”
    He smiled wryly. “Honor Donovan is Kyle’s sister.”
    Jake hung up before Charlotte could ask any other uncomfortable questions. He turned on the small photocopying machine and went to work.
    It didn’t take long to copy the log. Kyle had owned the boat for only fifteen months. He hadn’t spent nearly the time on board that the boat deserved. The Tomorrow was too well named. Kyle hadn’t had much time to play.
    Don’t feel sorry for the charming bastard, Jake told himself. Nobody held a gun to his head and told him to work instead of going fishing.
    But all the same, Jake couldn’t help thinking about the younger man’s flashing grin and sudden laughter, the hours they had spent during the miserable Baltic rains drinking beer and talking about catching salmon when the sea was cold and the fishing was red-hot.
    As soon as Jake finished copying the log, he went to work with a pencil in one hand and a chart book of the San Juans close by. By the time his wristwatch alarm started cheeping at him, he was sure of one thing.
    Kyle’s log didn’t add up worth a damn.
    Yet for all its tantalizing hints of secret hours spent on the Tomorrow , the logbook didn’t say where Kyle was at the moment or if the amber was with him.
    The more Jake thought about it, the more he was forced to accept the unhappy fact that Honor was his only route to the amber. To prove his own innocence, Jake would have to use her as ruthlessly as Kyle had used everyone else.
    Even though Honor was a Donovan, Jake didn’t like using her that way. But then, he hadn’t liked much that had happened in the past month.

4
    P RETTY AS A postcard, isn’t it?” Jake asked.
    Honor jumped at the sound of his voice. Uneasily she stared out the side windows of the Tomorrow. The blue-green water of Rosario Strait did indeed look like a postcard. She wished it were. Ever since they had left the dock behind, she had been intensely aware of the lack of truly solid footing. She licked her dry lips.
    “Postcards don’t jig around beneath your feet,” she said.
    “Jig? It’s dead calm.”
    She licked her lips again and said nothing.
    Jake had noticed Honor’s increasing restlessness. He was pretty certain of its source: she was afraid. He had been in enough tight places to recognize fear when he saw it. His employer was thin-lipped, pale, vibrating like a high-voltage line.
    It took a strong motivation for someone to confront such a deeply rooted fear. He wished he knew whether love for her brother or greed for the fairy dust known as the Amber Room drove her out onto the water.
    As Jake looked back at the smooth surface of the sea, he wondered what Honor would do when it got rough. He hoped she wouldn’t come unglued. The thought of smacking sanity