Breakwater (Cold Ridge/U.S. Marshals #5)

“I suppose I could go to Fredericksburg in the morning and do battlefield tours with my grandfather.”


“Quinn, if I could, I’d go with you. I’d like nothing better.”

She gave him a sceptical smile. “Except finding your bad guys. If I hear from Steve I’m going to ask him what he was doing in my office.”

“If you hear from him, call Kowalski. If you’re still here, there’s always Clemente.”

“Don’t worry about me, okay?” She turned to him, made herself smile. “Go do your thing. Track down your bad guys.”

“What if my bad guys are fixated on you?”

“I’ll lock my doors.”

Huck tensed, looking past her out the passenger window. He put his hand at the base of her neck. “Get down.” Almost as a reflex, Quinn spun around, but he shoved her head down, reaching for his weapon. “Stay put.”

“Boone?” The voice outside, toward the road, was more of a croak.

He swore under his breath. “It’s Sharon Riccardi,” he said to Quinn. “Don’t move until I say so.”

She nodded, staying low. There was no car on the dead-end road-how had Sharon Riccardi gotten out there?

Huck climbed out of the Rover, leaving his door open. “Mrs. Riccardi-”

“Sharon, Sharon, Sharon.” She laughed awkwardly, sounding half-drunk. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes, I walked through the marsh. There’s a path. It winds all over the place. I’m afraid I stepped in water and mud. My God, I’m covered in mosquito bites.”

Quinn edged up toward the window, staying out of sight as she peered in the side-view mirror. She could see Sharon Riccardi, unsteady on her feet, wobbling behind the Land Rover, waving her arms as if swatting at mosquitoes. She wore an ankle-length skirt and sandals that were totally inappropriate for a night walk through a salt marsh.

“My husband used to run this way before he got too busy with you all. Before that girl was found dead.” Her tone was angry, accusatory, but then she gave a sudden, harsh laugh. “That takes the bloom off, doesn’t it? Finding a dead woman out here, in such a beautiful spot.”

“It’s dark,” Huck said. “Must have been a rough hike-”

“Your eyes adjust. And the moon-did you notice there’s a half-moon? You’d be surprised what a difference it makes.” She thrust her hands onto her hips. “Where’s your Quinn Harlowe?”

“She’s here. I had her duck in case-”

Sharon snorted. “What, did you think I was some kind of wild animal or worse?”

He didn’t answer. Quinn pushed open her door and stepped out onto the driveway, noticing now that Sharon Riccardi was shivering from the chilly evening air. “Hello, Mrs. Riccardi. Huck kept me from having to eat dinner alone.”

“Now, wasn’t that nice?” She spoke with a sardonic edge, crossing her arms on her chest, as if to ward off the cool wind. “Boone’s got quite the soft spot for you. You two must have bonded when you found your friend drowned…”

Huck moved in next to her, everything about him on alert. “I’ll take you back to Breakwater, Sharon. The mosquitoes are eating you alive.”

Her teeth chattering now, Sharon stayed focused on Quinn. “You’re coming to the open house tomorrow, aren’t you? Oliver’s expecting you.” She slapped a hand in Huck’s direction, missing him. “I’m having Boone here park cars.”

He didn’t react. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do. Come on. Let’s go.”

“Parking cars-” Sharon Riccardi staggered back a couple of steps. “It’ll give you the chance to meet the kind of people who Oliver socializes with. His equals.”

“Fine. I’ll park cars. Guess you wouldn’t want me pouring champagne or teaching the guests how to shoot.”

She gave him a cool look. “You’re a flip bastard, aren’t you, Boone?” She swooped toward the Rover, hanging on to the door as Quinn stepped out of her way. “Miss Harlowe. You’re prettier than I realized when you were at Breakwater the other day. You were in shock, of course, after your friend’s death. But Oliver tells me you’re very good at what you do.”

“I appreciate that,” Quinn said.

“Being out on your own-at least now you can think independently.”

“I’ve always done my best to think independently, Mrs. Riccardi.”

“ Sharon.” She smiled, visibly straining to stay upright. “Sharon, Sharon.”

Before Quinn had a chance to respond, Huck pretty much shoved Sharon Riccardi into the Rover and shut the door. He turned to Quinn. “You’ll be okay? I’ll wait until you’re inside-”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Give my best to your grandfather.”

There was no undertone of humor in his words. They were, she realized, a strong recommendation-go to Fredericksburg in the morning. Skip the Breakwater open house.

Leave the Riccardis-and everything else-to him.

“Don’t worry about me.” Quinn gave him an irreverent smile. “Have fun parking cars.”