Shattered (9 page)

Slidell stopped Landon as he headed for the station parking lot. “Would you like to explain why a reporter is interviewing Reef?”

“She asked permission to see him, and he obviously consented. There’s no law against him having visitors.” He didn’t feel the need to share the fact that the McKennas had sent her over. That was their business, not Slidell’s.

Slidell’s eyes narrowed. “Where are you off to?”

“Got someone I need to see.”

“This better not be some wild-goose chase.”

“All part of a thorough investigation,” Landon said, stepping out of the station into the falling snow. Large flakes stuck to the brim of his hat as he walked to his truck, and he tried not to think about how much Piper loved snow. Tried not to think of Piper,
period.

Darcy walked straight from the sheriff’s station to Last Frontier Adventures, the shop the McKenna family owned and ran. Gage told her he’d be working the rest of the day and she could contact him there if she decided she was in.

“Wipe Out!” greeted her arrival, and she took in her surroundings. Hawaiian leis topped the displays, lit palm trees stood in the corners, and the scent of coconut swirled in the air.

“Darcy,” Jake said, stepping out from behind the counter. “Good to see you again.”

“Thanks—you too.” She looked past him. “Is Gage around?”

“Yeah, he’s in the garage finishing up with the boards.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward the rear of the building. “You want me to grab him?”

“No, I’ll just head back.” It would give her a chance to look around. See what Gage did for a living.

“Just head down the back hall, make a right at the end and out through the door.”

“Got it. Thanks.” She followed Jake’s instructions, passing a gallery of photos running the length of the hall—pictures of the McKennas with families, couples, and individuals enjoying the outdoors. Gage was in nearly all the white-water rafting pics, an enormous grin on his face. The bigger the rapids, the wider his smile. It seemed the love of adventure ran through all the McKennas’ hearts.

Dragging herself away from the snapshots, she stepped through the rear door into the garage, though
warehouse
would have been more fitting. Sixty by eighty feet, the steel-frame structure held an enormous variety of adventure equipment—kayaks, rafts, paddles, climbing ropes, skis, snowboards. The McKennas had quite an operation. “Back in Black” blared over the speakers, the entire building practically vibrating with the bass.

Gage was bent over a snowboard, carefully applying wax. He stroked it—caressing the wax smoothly and evenly onto the board. Just as her dad had done with his beloved surfboard so many years ago.

She watched Gage’s long, lean fingers glide along the plane of the board a moment before interrupting.

“Hello,” she hollered, hoping to be heard over the music.

He looked up at her and cupped a hand to his ear. “What?”

“Sorry to interrupt,” she yelled as loudly as she could manage.

He lifted a remote and pressed a button. The music ceased.

“How’d it go?” he asked, not wasting any time.

“It went well.”

The sleeves of his Henley were rolled up, and her gaze dipped to his bare forearms. His sculpted muscles were a sight to behold.

“And?”

“I definitely want in.”

He arched a brow. “You believe him?”

“I do.” She’d asked him point-blank and truly believed him innocent, despite the evidence against him.

Gage set down the jar of wax and strode to her. “And you’re not just saying that to get some inside scoop?”

“I wouldn’t do that.” She wouldn’t lie to get ahead. It was a fixed line she’d vowed never to cross.

“Why? Because it’s beneath a reporter to lie?” He chuckled, his face dangerously close to hers.

“No—because it’s beneath
me
,” she said, holding his gaze.

He held her stare, and continued to hold it.

Her breath hitched, her heart throbbing.

“So we have a deal,” he said finally.

“We sure do.” She just prayed it wouldn’t be her undoing.

Landon knocked on the trailer door, amazed at the size of the thing. It could probably swallow his cabin whole.

The door swung open, and a woman in her early twenties greeted him. Clad in her tight ski pants and Under Armour cold gear top, her attire left little to the imagination.

Landon diverted his eyes.

“Can I help you?”

“I need to speak with Mr. Masterson.”

“It’s someone for you,” she called over her shoulder.

“Who is it?” a male voice asked.

She turned back to Landon. “Who are you?”

He flashed his badge. “Deputy Grainger.”

The door opened wider, and a middle-aged man stepped out. He had dark, thinning hair and a tall, lean physique. So this was Rick Masterson, a legend on the slopes and off.

“What’s this about?”

“I need to ask you a few questions about Karli Davis.”

Rick glanced at the lady. “Why don’t you give us some privacy, Brittany.”

“Sure thing.” She sashayed past Landon and down the metal steps.

“Come on in.” Rick held the door open.

The inside of the RV was even more elaborate than the outside. Leather couches lined the living area, all situated to face the enormous plasma TV mounted on the wall. Custom mahogany cabinetry and a lot of beveled glass finished the room. This guy liked the good life.

“Nice place you got here.”

“Well, it’s home nine months out of the year.” Rick picked up the remote and muted the game. “Have a seat. I can’t say I’m surprised you’re here.”

“Why’s that?”

“I know how rumors go around here.”

“Here?” Landon played dumb.

“Within the circuit.” Rick sat, draping his left arm across the sofa’s back. “All kinds of nonsense gets circulated.”

“Are you saying the relationship you and Karli had was nonsense?”

“Relationship?” Rick laughed. “Is that what you heard?”

“What I heard was that you two had been intimate.”

Rick swiped a finger across the bottom of his nose. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I’m not at liberty to say. Is it true?”

Rick lifted his glass and jiggled the ice against the crystal.

“Mr. Masterson?”

“I’m a married man, Deputy Grainger. I’m sure you can appreciate my delicate position.” He drained the remaining amber liquid from his glass.

“And I’m sure you can appreciate the fact that a woman has been brutally murdered.”

“Of course. But Karli’s death has nothing to do with me.”

“How can you be certain?”

“Hold on a minute, there. You’re not suggesting I had anything to do with her death, are you?”

“Not at all. I’m just trying to get the full picture.”

“There was no Karli and me in the picture.”

“Ever?”

Rick rubbed the back of his neck.

“Mr. Masterson, it’d be best if you simply told me what I need to know, and then we can both move on.”

Rick cleared his throat. “You’ll keep this conversation between us?”

“As long as it isn’t pertinent to the investigation.”

“Fine.” Rick stood and moved to the bar. He lifted the brandy decanter, offering to pour Landon a glass.

“No thanks.” He didn’t drink on duty, period.

“Suit yourself.” Rick refilled his glass.

“You were defining what sort of relationship you and Karli shared,” he said, trying to keep Masterson on track.

“We had sex. That clear enough for you?”

“Once, multiple times?”

“Off and on last season, until she got hurt.”

“Hurt?”

“Karli took a bad fall near the end of last season. Tore her ACL.”

That explained the scar tissue he and Booth saw on her knee. “And she was already back to competing?”
Impressive.

“Karli was tough.”

“People must have admired that.”

Rick laughed. “Admiration and Karli rarely went together in folks’ minds.”

“Oh yeah—what did?”

“Having a good time or a really lousy one,” he said, taking a sip of his brandy.

Landon liked the guy less and less with each passing comment. “Meaning?”

“Karli was either the life of the party or she was ruining it for everyone else.”

“Could you give me an example?”

“Sure. No one expected Karli to be back on the slopes so soon. An ACL tear usually puts an athlete out for a full season, sometimes longer. But Karli hardly missed a beat. Her first event back, she competed fiercely. When she won, the gal in second place congratulated her on the podium, and Karli remarked something like ‘Why would I want congratulations from the first loser?’ That was Karli. Tongue of an asp.”

“She ever threaten to tell your wife about you two?”

Rick flinched.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Look, Karli spouted a lot of junk. It didn’t mean she’d go through with it.”

“Guess you no longer have to worry about that.”

Rick jiggled his glass. “I see what you are doing.”

Landon sat back. “And what is that?”

“You’re trying to find a scapegoat for that McKenna kid.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Because this is his hometown. What do you have, all of three hundred people in this place?”

“Six hundred and nine, last count.”

“Whatever. My kid’s school has more students than your town.”

“And your point is?” Landon loathed men like Masterson, men who thought money and power dictated the rules.

“I know how you small-town folks are. You protect your own.” His face reddened—an ugly mix of alcohol and anger. “Well, I’ve got news for you, Barney Fife; I’m not going to be the patsy that gets railroaded so the stupid kid can walk.”

“It’s Deputy Grainger, and I suggest you calm down.”

“And I suggest you get out of here before I call my lawyer.”

“I’m not done with my questions.”

“Well, I’m done answering.”

The theme from
Top Gun
played as Gage fished his phone out of his pocket. “’Ello?”

“It’s Piper.” Country music blared in the background.

“Where are you?”

“Never mind that. I think I’m on to something.”

Of course she was. “Piper, Cole said to let Darcy handle it.”

“Which is why I’m calling you. I need you to find Darcy and tell her to check out Rick Masterson.”

“As in the guy in charge of the Freeride Circuit?”

“One and the same.”

“What’s he got to do with Reef?”

“Not Reef—Karli.” Noise heightened in the background. “Look, I can’t talk right now. Tell Darcy.” She hung up.

Gage looked at his phone. What was Piper up to now?