P. J. Alderman - A Killing Tide

A Killing Tide

by

P.J. Alderman

Published by P.J. Aldermanat Smashwords

Copyright 2006 by P.J.Alderman

All rightsreserved.

A Killing Tide is a work of fiction. Names, characters, placesand incidents either are the product of the author's imagination orare used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living ordead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

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Discover these additionaltitles by P.J. Alderman at www.pjalderman.com:

Port Chatham MysterySeries

Haunting Jordan

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A Killing Tide

Where there's smoke...

Kaz Jorgensen is used tofear--the anxiety of negotiating treacherous currents as shecaptains her family's fishing trawlers, the terrifying nightmaresof the day she almost lost her life on the river. But now a man isdead, an arsonist has set the AnnaMarie ablaze, and her brother ismissing.

There's fire...

Michael Chapman knows how to take theheat--as the new fire chief of Astoria, Oregon, he's dealt withmore than his share. No way can he afford to get involved with thesister of a suspect. But the scorching attraction between him andKaz burns out of control, and when someone takes a shot at her, hisprotective instincts kick in. Whatever happens, he can't allowanother woman to die because of him.

Suspense, romance, and a setting so welldrawn that you'll feel like you're thereAlderman delivers it all.An outstanding debut!Rita Award Winning Author Marilyn Pappano

Tense and riveting, Alderman's debutdelivers.Bestselling Author Colleen Thompson

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A Killing Tide

P.J. Alderman

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Prologue

Astoria, Oregon, late winter, evening

Century-old clapboard buildings huddledtogether on the narrow triangle of land between Marine Drive andthe raging waters of the Columbia River. Sixty-knot gusts of windrattled loose windowpanes; sheets of rain flayed peeling siding. Arusty streetlight groaned, its pool of light dancing on thedarkened sidewalk.

The door of the Redemption Tavern swungopen, and a man staggered out. Propping himself against the brickalcove, he peered into the night, eyes slitted against the wet. APineapple Express, damn their luck, straight out of the SouthPacific. Someone'd probably die on the river bar tonight. Someonethey all knew.

Shivering, he shoved throbbing hands intohis pockets. Goddamn ratfish. Their fins cut like razors. In thelast week, he'd flung enough of 'em off the port bow to last alifetime.

He closed his eyes, swaying. Someone frominside the tavern yelled at him to close the door, but he paid noattention. All he had to do was make it six miserable blocks, thenhe'd be home with Julie and the kids. He'd take a hot shower, eat ahome-cooked meal. Get some sleep.

They wouldn't come for him at the house. Toomany witnesses.

His hands fisted, the right one closingaround the small snow globe he'd forgotten he'd put in his pocket.Scowling, he held it up to the dim glow of the lamp above the door.A miniature white fishing trawler floated on a pretty blue sea,glittery bits of snow falling all around it. The skipper's sisterhad given it to him for Bobby.

"Since Bobby's too sick to go out with youright now," Kaz had explained.

His jaw clenched. She had no clue about thekind of trouble he was in, the kind of trouble they were all in.Pretty little bobbles couldn't fix anything, and there weren'tgoing to be any happy endings. With the snow globe still clutchedin his hand, he pushed himself onto the sidewalk.

Rain iced his face and ran inside hiscollar, soaking the front of his wool shirt. A car passed him,splashing greasy water over his boots. He shook a fist at it, butit never even slowed, its taillights disappearing into the swirlingdarkness.

What a fool he'd been! But he never thoughtthey'd find out, not really. And he'd been desperate.

At least the Skipper should've understood.After all, Gary was his friendthe two of them went way back. Abitter laugh escaped, its sound swept away by the wind. In all theyears he and Gary had been together, he'd never seen Gary so angry,sodisappointed.

What have I done?

In the lull between wind gusts, he caught asound, a faint scrape on the concrete. Spinning around, he peeredinto the rain-drenched night.

The street was empty, the only movement thequaking shadows of wind-whipped vegetation.

Increasing his pace, he ducked around thecorner of a coffee house, and then from under its creaking sign,crossed a patch of grass to stand in the deep shadow cast by theconcrete bridge abutment.

He stared into the darkness, fear chasingeach breath, then shuddered.

He was so damn tired. Tired of running.Tired of trying to make things right again.

His head fell back and he looked up, lettingthe rain batter his face. High overhead, the steel deck of thebridge loomed, its tiny lights winking against the turbulent blacksky. Steady streams of water poured off the structure, flooding thegrass and soaking his boots.

Sensing movement behind him, he started toturn. Something heavy crashed down on his head, driving him to hisknees. Pain exploded, radiating down his spine. Dazed, he shook hishead.

Hands grabbed his coat, slamming him againstthe concrete. Breath soured by beer washed over his face. "Where isit?"

He immediately recognized the low, gravelyvoice.

Can't tell.

His shoulder rammedagainst the concrete, his collarbone snapping with a hot, gratingpop. "What did you do with it?"

He choked and sucked inair. "I'll give it backjust give me a chance." The hands tightenedlike a vise, and he clawed at his throat. "Wait! I'm begging you. "

The pressure on his collarbone increased,and he screamed.

"You'll never find it," he got out, but hiswords were swallowed by the howling wind. He struggled. "I madesure," he whispered.

The hands loosened, and he fell,facedown.

Was that the ocean roaring? Didn't makesense.He was by the river, wasn't he? He chuckled, but the soundonly echoed inside his head. Funny. He'd always figured he'd diecrossing the river bar, but never like this. It shouldn't have beenlike this.

The storm was easing. Calm settled over himas night closed in.

Julie will understand.

The fingers of his right hand loosened, andthe snow globe dropped into the mud. He never even felt the lastblow.

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Chapter 1

Kaz Jorgensen opened the cedar plank door ofthe Redemption and stepped into its dimly lit interior. A gust ofwind caught the door, and she had to use all of her strength todrag it shut.

Hanging her dripping sou'wester on a peg inthe entry, she paused long enough to roll the tension out of hershoulders. By the time she'd crossed the river bar, the seas hadbeen running at seventeen feet. Waves two stories high had batteredthe trawler, making it shudder beneath her feet. It was her firstrough crossing since coming home, and she'd nearly been paralyzedby the sense of dj vu.

Rubbing icy hands on her jeans, she glancedaround the smoky, cavernous room, taking a quick headcount. Andbreathed a quick sigh of relief. As far as she could tell, nofishing crews were MIA from the storm. Her twin brother Gary caughther gaze, frowning and glancing deliberately at his watch.Shrugging, she held out both hands, then started threading her waythrough the crowded tables.

"You're late," Lucy McGuire said as sheapproached. "That's the second time this week."

"Hi to you, too." Kaz dropped into thecaptain's chair across from Lucy, propping salt-encrusted, wetsneakers on the extra chair. "I would've been here an hour ago ifsome