Bloody Point Read Online Free Page B

is
murdered in a marina. Then a boat is torched just a few miles away.”
    “Does Laughlin think the guy who was cruising in the boat … what
was his name? Sinclair? … set fire to it?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Who was the previous owner?” Cassie asked. “Turn right at
the next exit, then take the second left,” she directed.
    Jake swung his SUV onto the exit ramp. Rush hour traffic was
diminishing. The sun was low in the sky and humidity hung in the air in a haze.
“A guy who lives in D.C. Nothing special about him.”
    The restaurant came in view. “Here it is, on the right.”
    Jake swung the car into a parking space and shut down the
engine. Cassie pushed open her door, relieved to get out of the conversation.
    “I’ll tell you more inside,” Jake said.

 
    †
    Bloody Point
    Chapter 3
    S KIPPY’S Crab Shack was
dark and loud, and later Cassie wondered if she’d chosen the place to minimize
the opportunity for conversation. She made Jake try steamed crabs, ordering two
dozen. The waiter spread brown paper over their table, brought hammers and picks,
and dumped the freshly steamed crabs right in the middle. Then Cassie spent the
next ten minutes showing Jake how to crack and eat them.
    “It’s a lot of work, but there is nothing else like it.”
    “Except maybe lobster, only you get a lot more out of it,” he
teased.
    “I dare you to match it with something from your Midwest.”
    “What? Like prime beef, maybe? A Delmonico steak?”
    She dismissed him with a snort. “The Bay’s seafood is the
greatest, and steamed crab is the best part of that. Now my dad, he loves oysters.
Right out of the shell. Raw.”
    Jake rolled his eyes. The music began again, loud Jimmy
Buffett-style beach music, and they had to eat in silence. But she noticed Jake
watching everything going on in the joint, taking note of every person who
walked in, even scrutinizing the waiters and bus boys.
    And that was the problem. When you worked for the FBI you
were always on duty. In a restaurant, you automatically sat with your back to
the wall. In a bank line, you scanned the other customers for suspicious behavior.
When you were working a corruption case, everyone you met was a potential
criminal.
    You couldn’t let go, couldn’t relax, couldn’t let your guard
down because if you failed to pick up a clue on your watch, you’d never forgive
yourself.
    A couple of times, Jake tried to resume the conversation
they’d begun in the car, but it was just too loud in the restaurant. So they
confined themselves to small talk and listening to the music. They finished
their meal and left. As they drove back to the marina, Jake kept the
conversation light, but Cassie could sense something was brewing.
    The clouds were gathering in the western sky. It was after
nine o’clock and Cassie could see flashes of lightning in the distance. The
predicted thunderstorms were on their way. She wanted to air out the boat
before she had to batten the hatches again. It would be a long night on the
boat, hot and uncomfortable. If it rained she would have to close the ports and
the hatches. Inside, then, it would be stifling.
    Arriving back at the marina, Jake parked and turned off the
engine and Cassie reached for the door handle, hoping to make a quick escape.
“Thanks for dinner, Jake.”
    He touched her arm and said, “Cass, wait just a minute.”
    A chill ran through her.
    “Cass, I want my partner back. I want you to come and help me
with this case.”
    Cassie looked at his face, at the intensity in his eyes and
the set of his jaw. She tried to picture herself going for it, strapping on the
gun, pocketing the credentials, hitting the streets. And she couldn’t do it,
couldn’t see it. “I can’t do it, Jake. I can’t see myself there.”
    “C’mon, Cass. I need you.”
    “No. I told you. I don’t want to be an agent. I’m through
with that.” Her heart was drumming. Her hands involuntarily clenched.
    His voice was soft. “Maybe