Flynn (Oath of Honor #8)

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Wrong move , Taylor thought seconds before getting swept away in Flynn’s kiss. The way he cradled her close sent her heart soaring. But as wonderful as the kiss was, it ended quickly, with Flynn disentangling himself and stepping back. She swallowed a wave of regret for giving in to her impulse to kiss him.

“We, uh, I shouldn’t have done that.” He looked a bit shell-shocked as he glanced around the small lake house at everything but her. “I need to stay focused.”

She was the one who’d kissed him, not the other way around. But he clearly wasn’t interested in repeating the experiment. And why was that so depressing? She and Flynn were friends. They wouldn’t be together at all if not for the gunman.

“I apologize,” she said, owning the situation.

“No need.” A flush of embarrassment crept up Flynn’s neck. “I, uh, we need to get back to work.”

“And that means reviewing mug shots.” Once this nightmare was over, she never wanted to see another mug shot ever again.

“Yes.” He finally looked at her, his eyes intense. “Finding this guy has to be our top priority.”

His dedication was admirable, even if she secretly wished for something more. Something personal. “Okay. I understand.”

Flynn looked as if he wanted to say something but didn’t. Pushing away from the kitchen counter he crossed to the table and set up the computers. The table was small, and he placed the laptops back-to-back so they were facing each other.

After he’d finished logging into the police database, she sank into the chair and went back to work. She was up to the last names that started with R and found there were many. Once she reached the last six letters of the alphabet, she was sure the process would go by much quicker.

Yet even as she clicked through one photograph after another, she harbored doubts about her ability to find this guy in the system. Either her memory would fail her or he didn’t have a criminal record.

Likely both.

Between pictures, she’d look at Flynn working across from her. His red hair was mussed as if he’d run his fingers through it. His square jaw was unshaven, and while he wouldn’t be considered handsome in a classical sense, she found him very attractive.

Too attractive.

With a sigh, she tore her gaze away. Flynn couldn’t have made it any clearer that he wasn’t interested. She needed to accept that they were nothing more than friends while figuring out a way to ignore the awareness between them.

She went through the next photo too fast and had to back up to look at it more closely. The nose on this man’s face was large, but after staring at it for a long moment, she decided it didn’t match that of the shooter. With a sigh, she kept going.

“Taylor?” She glanced up when Flynn said her name. “Will you take a look at these pictures?”

Curious, she rose and went around the table so she could see his computer screen. She was surprised to find he was logged into social media and had located her cousin Jacob Paulson’s page.

“That’s Jake, and that’s Lyle.” She indicated the two men on the screen. The picture was from a few years ago, taken in the summertime where the clear blue water of a lake could be seen behind them. “Where are they?”

“I was hoping you’d recognize it.” Flynn waved a hand at the window. “I don’t know Peabody Lake well enough to know if this was taken here.”

She frowned, trying to recall if anyone in her family had a lake house. “They could be with a friend. Jake and Lyle are only a year apart and could have had similar friends. Roman was two years older than Jake.”

“The area doesn’t look familiar?” Flynn asked.

“No, but I’m not as familiar with this lake either.” She frowned, trying to imagine where the picture may have been taken. “Maybe we should drive around Peabody Lake to see if it was taken here. We might be able to track down that home behind them, on the other side of the lake.” The house in question was opulent in appearance, as if it belonged to someone rich or famous.

Like maybe a ball player? Were they wrong about Steve Miller’s role of CEO of Brookland Bank being the reason he was murdered? Maybe Robin Miller had stumbled across something while working on her interior design of the Buck’s player’s house.

“Maybe later,” Flynn said.

“Flynn, there are a lot of expensive homes on this lake, on other lakes in the area too,” she admitted. “I’ve heard that some of these homes were purchased by baseball and basketball players. That house behind Jake and Lyle is a multimillion-dollar home. It could be the type of place Robin Miller was hired to redecorate.”

Admiration flashed in Flynn’s gaze. “Smart thinking. Maybe we should drive around the lake, see if we can find this house.”

Even if they did find the home, she wasn’t sure what that meant. Her cousins weren’t related to any famous athletes that she was aware of. Friends? Maybe, but the date on the picture of her cousins was four years old.

Her initial rush of excitement faded. They could be grasping at straws. Trying to make something out of nothing.

“I should finish going through the mug shots before we do anything else,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t want to take us off on some sort of wild goose chase, especially if the gunman happens to be in the system. Finding him is the goal, right? We don’t know that Roman’s brothers are involved in this.”

“Right.” His expression turned grim. “Better to keep working through the list. In the meantime, I’ll keep this photo for future reference.”

With a nod, she returned to her chair. Again, she had to force herself to concentrate on the photographs on the screen because her mind wandered back to her cousins. And the conversation she’d had with Robin just days before the brutal murder.

She hated to admit that Flynn may have been right about the need to break off their embrace. She was having enough trouble concentrating on her role in this investigation, and that was without the added emotional baggage that accompanied a relationship.

The next hour passed in silence. As she predicted, there were less names per letter near the end of the alphabet. Then a picture bloomed on the screen that caused her heart to lodge in her throat.

“Flynn?” She couldn’t tear her gaze from the computer. “I think I found him.”

“Really?” Flynn shot out of his chair, hurrying to stand behind her. “Nickoli Yurgis? Are you sure?”

“The nose is the same.” She tapped the screen. “The minute I saw the picture, I remembered it. This guy doesn’t have a beard, at least in this photo, but he has dark hair. I can’t say with 100 percent accuracy that this man is the shooter, but if it’s not him, then it might be another male relative.” She glanced up at him over her shoulder. “Can your tech expert, Gabe Melrose, dig into his background?”

“I plan to ask him to do just that.” Flynn leaned forward to take control of the computer. He clicked a few keys, then let out a low whistle. “Well, this is interesting. Nickoli Yurgis has ties to the Russian Mafia. And he was arrested three years ago for stabbing a man. Too bad he wasn’t convicted, as the only witness to the murder disappeared.”

A chill snaked down her spine as she stared at the additional information Flynn had uncovered. Russian Mafia? She hadn’t even known such an organization existed. From what she saw on the screen, the alleged stabbing done by this Nickoli Yurgis was as cold-blooded as the murders had been. If this man or someone close to him was the shooter, then the connection to the murders had to be the Brookland Bank and Steve Miller’s role as president and CEO.

Detective Klem had mentioned following the money.

A sudden wave of doubt assailed her. What if she was wrong? What if her memory wasn’t as clear as she’d thought?

“Good work, Taylor.” Flynn gently squeezed her shoulder, then pulled out his phone. “Gabe? We have a name for you.”

She listened as Flynn filled Gabe in on the scant information they’d found included with Nickoli Yurgis’s mug shot, hoping and praying she hadn’t made a mistake.

That her identification of this man matching her memory of the shooter wasn’t sending them the wrong path.

All she could do now was pray.

Please, Lord Jesus, grant us the wisdom we need to find the killer!

Excitement coursed through Flynn’s veins. Taylor had found the perp, and he had ties to the Russian Mafia! He felt certain they were on the right track, that somehow Steve Miller had gotten mixed up with the wrong people.

“Thanks, Gabe. Please keep me updated on what you find.” He lowered the disposable phone, his gaze lingering on the distinctly European features of Nickoli Yurgis.

Figured his last name started with a Y . They should have started going through mug shots from the end of the alphabet.

“Should I keep going?” Taylor asked.

He hesitated, then nodded. “If you don’t mind, yes. You’re almost finished anyway.”

She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I hope I’m right about him. This looks like the profile I remembered from last night, but it was dark, and I only caught a glimpse as he strode past.”

“I trust your instincts,” he said gently. “I know the circumstances were dire, and you were scared, but you know what you saw.” He cupped her shoulders in his hands. “The fact that you instantly locked on this guy proves that you remember that moment very clearly. I’m proud of you for sticking with it.”

“I’m not sure I had much of a choice.” She reached up to cover one of his hands with hers. “But thank you. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

He tried to ignore the zip of awareness dancing along his nerves. Their brief yet intense kiss was still too fresh in his mind. It had taken all his willpower, and then some, to pull away. To put distance between them. Physical distance was one thing.

Spending so much time with her was creating an emotional connection that he’d never experienced with anyone else.

Her dropping her hand from his was his cue to do the same. Releasing her, he returned to his computer screen. But his goal of finding more information related to Lyle and Jake Paulson seemed unimportant now that they had a name to go with their suspect.

Then again, Roman Paulson had been murdered, either because he’d gotten involved with the Russian Mafia, too, or like Taylor, because he had seen or heard something he shouldn’t have. Resigned, Flynn renewed his efforts to keep searching. Digging through social media was tedious, but Taylor had done her part with going through mug shots, so he would finish this too.

Besides, it was much better to stay busy than to think about kissing her again.

He glanced up at her, marveling at how pretty she was. Logically, he knew she’d only kissed him out of gratitude. The way she thanked him for keeping her safe grated on his nerves. As if he or any cop would leave an innocent woman in the lurch.

He was nothing special. And it was only a matter of time before she realized that fact for herself.

Twenty minutes later, Taylor rose to her feet and stretched. “I’m finished. There were a surprisingly lot of last names with the letter Z . But Yurgis is the only profile that matches my memory.”

“Great job.” He flashed a smile. “Relax for a bit. I’ll let you know if I come across anything interesting from your cousins.”

She frowned. “I really think we should take a drive around the lake. I know it probably won’t look the same from the road as it does from the water, but that house is big enough that we should be able to find it without a problem.”

He glanced at his watch. It was almost one thirty in the afternoon, but the cloudy sky made it seem darker than usual. Falling back from daylight saving didn’t help. The sun would go down earlier than ever. “Too bad we don’t have a boat.”

“Are you sure about that?” She gestured to the window. “This might be a relatively small house, but most rental properties on a lake include a boat of some sort. And we should do it now before it gets dark.”

He considered that for a moment, then nodded. “Good point. Let’s check it out.”

Taylor pulled on her winter coat as he shrugged into his fleece, zipping it over the gun holster on his hip. The boathouse was down near the shoreline, so he headed out the back door.

The brown grass slopped down to the lake. Taylor’s foot slipped on a slick spot, so he caught her hand to steady her.

“Thanks,” she murmured. “I don’t think early November is a time of the year to take a swim.”

The boathouse door had a keypad lock on it, the same make and model as the one on the front door. He punched in the four-digit key code, and the door opened. A musty, stale scent wafted over them.

“No one has been down here in a while,” he said. The boathouse was stuffed to the brim. He could barely walk inside, turning sideways to get past the wide-backed Adirondack lawn chairs, two kayaks and paddles, an inner tube, several life vests, and finally what appeared to be a small fishing boat.

“Do you think the motor works?” Taylor’s gaze was doubtful as he checked out the fishing boat. While getting to the vessel was difficult from the doorway, he could now see that the boat was positioned up against the single garage door so that it could be easily pushed into the lake.

“If not, we can always use the oars.” He wasn’t surprised to see two long oars stretched along the bottom of the boat. They were a hint that the motor may not be super reliable.

Or maybe the owners of the lake house just wanted to be sure they provided enough equipment to forestall complaints.

“Are we really doing this?” Taylor asked as he stepped out of the boat and unlatched the garage door. “We’re taking the boat out?”

“Yep.” He hoisted the garage door open. The lake lapped against the shore, the water higher than usual according to the rocky edge being more than halfway submerged. “We’ll be fine as long as it doesn’t rain or snow.”

Taylor hesitated. “Nobody else is on the lake from what I can see.”

He nodded, having noticed that too. The icy chill in the air didn’t make for a fun trip across the water, but they wouldn’t be out for long. The more he considered their limited options, the more he warmed to the plan. “Don’t worry, we’ll make it a short trip. Since there isn’t anyone else out here, we can do straight down the middle to see if we can spot the house behind your cousins.”

“Okay.” She placed her hands on her hips, glancing from the boat to the lake with a frown. “I’ve never been out on a boat before. What do you need me to do?”

He appreciated her willingness to assist. “First, I need to get the boat into the water. Then I’ll hold it steady for you to climb in.”

Taylor watched as he pulled the small fishing vessel out of the boathouse. She bent over and helped push from her end.

To his surprise, the boat went into the water with relative ease. Clearly the owners and renters had done this before.

“Okay, get in.” He held the boat steady with one hand, holding the other out to her. She grasped his hand and gingerly stepped into the boat. It wobbled from side to side, so she quickly sat down on the middle seat.

“Good job.” He quickly climbed in behind her, then grabbed one of the long oars. He pressed the flattened edge of the paddle on the grassy shore and leaned on the oar until the boat was floating freely in the water. The small fishing boat motor was tipped up so that the lower blades were out of the way. After sliding the oar back along the bottom of the boat, he moved the motor so that the blades were submerged in the murky water. After two quick pulls on the rope starter, the engine roared to life.

Not bad , he thought. They could probably get from one end of the lake and back to their rental without a problem. A quick glance at the bottom of the vessel confirmed the boat was sound. He didn’t see any sign of water seeping in from a seam or hole. He turned to sit by the engine, steering the boat into the middle of the lake.

“This is nice,” Taylor said from her perch on the center seat. “Chilly but nice.”

“Once the lake freezes over, you’ll see all sorts of ice shanties going up,” he said. “Ice fishing is a big deal out here.”

She turned to stare at him. “They drill holes in the ice to catch fish?”

“Yep.” He smiled when she wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Hey, don’t knock it until you try it.”

“I like fish, but no thanks on the ice fishing part.” She turned back to scan the lakeshore. “You watch that side.” She gestured to the aft side of the boat. “I’ll watch this one.”

The putt-putt of the motor seemed loud in the stillness of the day. Most adults were working while the kids were still in school.

The wind cut through his fleece, making him wish he had a puffy winter coat like Taylor’s. Doing his best to ignore the cold, he scanned the homes lining the shore. Most were huge and expensive, but every once in a while, there was a smaller home, much like the one they were currently renting.

Not everyone living out here was rich and famous.

They were almost all the way across the lake when Taylor waved her arm. “There! That’s the house!”

She was right, there was no mistaking the three-story structure that loomed large on the aft side of the lake. Since that house had been behind her cousins in the photo, he turned to look at the property across from it. This section of Peabody Lake was narrower, so it was easy to see both properties.

The house directly across was enormous as well, and the boathouse sported an open deck that was clearly used for entertaining. Thinking back to the picture, he believed the Paulson brothers had been standing up on that deck when the photo was taken.

Making a mental note of the location of the home, he turned the boat engine, making a wide turn to head back to the rental property. Back in early June, when Grayson had been trying to track a killer on this very lake, Gabe had managed to identify the owner of a property that helped crack the case wide open.

Maybe their tech guru could do the same thing again now.

Even as the thought formed, he had to admit there was no indication that Taylor’s cousins were involved. Or that the lake house where they’d taken a picture would lead to a connection with the Russian Mafia.

Asking Gabe to track down the homeowners could be a waste of time. Digging into Nickoli Yurgis was more important. They really needed to find him or any of his known associates. If not? They would be right back where they’d started.

Having a name didn’t mean much if the guy was hiding deep underground.

Feeling grim, he cast his gaze over the lake. A hint of movement caught his eye, giving him pause.

Someone else was out on the lake too.

The tiny hairs on the back of his neck lifted in alarm. He instinctively angled closer to the shoreline on the same side of the lake as their rental house.

“Taylor? I need you to crouch down in the boat.” He strove to keep his voice steady.

“Why?” Then she saw it too. Without hesitation, she slid from the center bench until she was sitting on the bottom of the boat. Ducking her head, she asked, “Can you see who is in the other boat?”

“Not yet.” He didn’t like the fact that the boat was coming straight for them. The engine of the second vessel grew louder and louder as the boat closed the gap. And he felt certain it was bigger than the fishing boat engine putt-putting beneath his fingers.

He gave the boat as much gas as he could, but their speed didn’t change. Swallowing hard, he knew they weren’t going to make it back to the rental. The fishing boat was no match for the big powerful boat coming toward them.

“Lord Jesus, save us!”

Hearing Taylor’s desperate prayer gave him an idea. He abruptly yanked on the handle of the engine, bringing the boat in a tight turn. One thing about having a smaller vessel was that it was more agile.

Then he deliberately cut across the path of the oncoming boat like crossing the letter T .

In response, the driver tried to turn as well. But he was going too fast, and the boat was too big to respond quickly.

Swerving around the back of the boat, Flynn tried desperately to get back to the rental house. Then he heard the boat coming up behind them.

He made another quick turn to face the threat. He pulled his weapon from beneath the fleece as the crack of gunfire rang out. Seeing the gun in the boat driver’s hand pointed at them, he didn’t hesitate to return fire. Unfortunately, holding one hand on the boat’s tiller and moving across the water while firing meant he didn’t hit the perp.

Hearing several metallic pings, he belatedly realized the driver of the boat was drilling their fishing boat with bullets, likely because it was easier to hit the boat than a person. Water was already seeping in from the various bullet holes.

“Flynn?” Taylor’s voice was fearful. “What can we do?”

“Stay down.” He shifted to copy the perp’s idea, aiming at his much larger boat. The driver abruptly turned the vessel and sped away in the opposite direction.

There was nothing he could do to stop the gunman from getting away. As icy water sloshed over his shoes, he understood they didn’t have a second to waste.

“Come on, come on,” he whispered as he headed toward their rental house. If they sank much farther, they’d risk being submerged in the lake and succumbing to hypothermia.

The fishing boat engine abruptly died. Abandoning the tiller, he grabbed the oars, which were completely covered in murky lake water.

They were still twenty yards from shore, but he set the oars in the small holes on either side of the boat and pulled with all his might. They had to get back to solid ground.

They just had to!

Taylor had found a small bucket and was desperately trying to get the water out of the boat. It was a losing battle. He abruptly stopped rowing and reached for her. “We need to swim the rest of the way.”

“Swim?” Her voice was little more than a croak, and he realized she was already shivering. Hypothermia was already setting in.

If they didn’t get out of the lake very soon, they would die.