Coyle and Fang: Curse of Shadows (Coyle and Fang Adventure Series Book 1) by Robert III (great books for teens .txt) 📗

the man, but she couldn’t put a finger on it. Or maybe it was something else.

Overactive imagination.

“What do you know about Trevin? Was he a Templar?” Coyle asked.

“Trevin?” Vonteg said. “No, strictly an employee of Dawn’s Industries. As I understand it, he supervised a lot of research and development, but not like Quolo’s work. Trevin worked with a small team that studied problems and resolutions from older cultures. They collected art, books, writings, relics, that sort of thing. They hoped that learning from the past would help create a better Dawn Industries.”

“Apparently he found something along that kind with this book,” Poes said.

“So we’re on our way to his offices?” Coyle asked.

“He moved around, but he did spend a lot of time at Fort Alcatraz,” Vonteg said.  “The Union used it for training during the Northern Aggression. Right now, it’s less an army outpost and increasingly more of a jailhouse. But there may be something there to tell us why he was targeted and killed.”

“I wonder what he was researching out there,” Coyle said. The men glanced at her with blank faces. No one answered because no one had the answer. But finding it was the main purpose of their visit. She rubbed her fingers together at the prospect of discovering fresh clues, new opportunities to make things right.

“Everyone hold tight,” the driver said.

“Bumpy roads?” Coyle asked, looking out the window and expecting to be jostled.

Poes nudged her side with his elbow. “I’ve got you,” he said. Coyle threaded her arm through his and held tight, her heart rate thumping along with the bumpy road and the warmth of him. She was receiving mixed signals. He was challenging but thoughtful. Masked yet disarming.

Men.

She would never understand them.

“No, just getting into the bay,” Vonteg said. He smiled playfully at both of them as the carriage rolled down a steep slope.

Water splashed against the hull as the carriage drove into the bay, the craft becoming weightless. She glanced outside and saw the wheels fold upon themselves and retract under the chassis. Long tubes protruded from the sides and opened horizontally. Canvas material emerged from the tubes and filled with air until they expanded. Clicks and whirrs came from below their feet until a steady hum vibrated through the cabin. The craft bobbed from side to side but glided through the water without trouble.

Poes glanced at Coyle, and they both noticed they were grasping each other’s arms. They pulled away and straightened themselves out.

Vonteg laughed. “You two are the first I’ve seen cling to each other like little kittens when their momma runs off.”

Coyle turned as far away from the two as possible so they couldn’t see her smile.

The dock became visible, and the carriage slowed to a stop before the driver tied the line to the cleats. He opened the door, and Coyle got out first, followed by Poes and Vonteg.

The air smelled of sea-lion waste and dried seaweed, and she never got used to it. She huffed out a breath and glanced around. A tall, whitewashed lighthouse rested on top of rolling hills and stood tall over the other structures in the distance. Long-fingered succulents with bright purple flowers covered most of the ground. Just as Coyle was wondering if they were even allowed to be on the island, a small group of Army men arrived on horseback, their weathered blue uniforms dulled by the sun and ocean air.

“Names?” asked a man with a yellow hat, tanned face and grayed mustache.

“Detective Vonteg, Miss Coyle, and investigative attorney Poes,” Vonteg replied. “We’re here to search a former employee’s quarters and office space.”

“I’m Sergeant Tanner, US Army. You talking about Trevin? Heavy guy, always wearing white suits?” the man asked.

“That’s the one,” Vonteg said.

Tanner spat a line of tobacco juice. “We gathered as much stuff as we could find and set it aside. These gentlemen will escort you to his building. I’ll have to ask for your firearms while you’re on the property.”

“Oh, sir, we don’t have any...” Coyle’s voice trailed off as Poes and Vonteg pulled handguns from under their coats and handed them over. She pretended to be busy straightening her skirt and wondered when the weapons were handed out. Then again, the weapons were undoubtedly their own. Their line of work would require appropriate means of self-defense when called upon. She wasn’t allowed to carry a firearm as a constable. Most of that was police policy, and some of it was chauvinism. Between the two, she wouldn’t be issued a gun anytime in the near future. Which was fine all the same. She wasn’t even sure she could be a decent shot.

They followed the soldiers over small hills until they arrived at the mesa that was Fort Alcatraz. Barracks, storehouses, and walls were built in the Spanish mission style. Whitewash over curved natural stone. Coyle noted the lighthouse and some smaller residences were made of wood. Tanner pointed to a house.

“That’s his place right there,” he said. “We set his belongings out for you to look through.”

“Thank you kindly,” Vonteg said.

“How long do you think you’ll need?” Tanner asked.

“Not long,” Vonteg answered.

“Listen, we’re not your babysitters. Just don’t go through the other houses or any other buildings and you’ll be fine. Got it?” They nodded, and he and the soldiers left.

They walked toward a heap sitting in front of the house. Furniture, clothes, cabinets, utensils and everything else between had been tossed into the pile.

“I’m not sure what to look for,” Coyle said.

“Paperwork, journals... anything that had to do with his studies and work,” Poes said. He moved into the pile and began sorting through the mess. Coyle and Vonteg followed.

The air was chilly despite it being the middle of June. Coyle kept herself warm by digging through clothes. Her fingers searched through every pocket, looking for notes or anything worthy to be called evidence. She still wasn’t sure what they would find. She was also aware that the others didn’t know about the bloodstains hidden on