Arrow's Rest by Joel Scott (best books to read all time .TXT) 📗

stood with hands on hips, head bent towards Jared, her colour up, grey eyes flashing. Sometimes she reminded him of Katharine Hepburn in one of her skirmishes with Spencer Tracy in an old black-and-white movie. Cat’s lips a little lusher maybe, although thinned right out at the moment.

The first time he’d seen her she had looked just like this, standing outside the East End food bank where she volunteered one night a week. She was giving it to three tough-looking teenagers who were set to rip off an old homeless guy’s groceries. Jared crossed the street and stood alongside her, and the lads decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. Cat thanked him when they left but assured him that she could take care of herself; she carried bear spray and took a martial arts class in self-defence. Jared said he was sure of it, but suggested his presence might at least have saved her from scuffing up her clothes. After carefully checking him for irony, she let Jared buy her a drink. One thing led to another, and to their mutual surprise they became a couple.

Arrow proved to be the deal maker. Cat had done some racing on a stripped-out thirty-six-foot Jeanneau at the Vancouver Rowing Club and fell in love with the old wooden sailboat’s history and charm the first time she went on board. She found it hard to believe that such a beautiful old boat had been gifted to Jared by an elderly couple, out of the blue and for no good reason whatsoever, from what he’d told her. Sometimes when they were out sailing he caught her studying him sidelong, as if searching for some hidden merit that would warrant such a spectacular legacy.

“I am not worthy,” he’d said once, surprising her in her scrutiny, and she’d blushed to her roots.

Now she stood looking at him, a grim expression on her face. “Well, are you going to answer me?” Cat demanded. “You think I can’t handle it?”

“Nothing at all to do with that, I just think it’s a really bad idea to put yourself out there. This is a vicious man who came damned close to killing your sister by all accounts. It wouldn’t be that difficult for him to find out who you are. If Clarke is right, this is not a one-time incident where someone got carried away on an impulse, but a regular happening by a well-organized serial rapist. The police don’t appear to have any leads, which suggests he’s smart and he’s careful.” He knew she didn’t like what he was saying, but he continued. “On top of that, he’s thumbing his nose at them with the park bench thing. So part of the thrill seems to be the risks involved, and that makes him that much more dangerous to you personally. Two victims from the same family would be a real coup for someone who thinks like that. It could even be someone working in one of the clubs who could pick up on you asking questions. Why would you want to take that chance?”

Cat said, “Because Lauren is my sister and I love her and I owe it to her? Deal with it, Jared. This is totally my business. Your detective friend seemed sincere, and I’m sure he has good intentions, but I doubt Lauren is going to be high on the police department’s list of priorities. There are a couple of gang wars playing out at the moment, never mind when a woman is out partying on her own there’s always that ‘Well, what the hell did she expect?’ thing.”

“That might be true sometimes for the media and defence lawyers, but not for Clarke. He is damned good at his job, and I guarantee he will do everything in his power to find the person responsible for your sister’s attack.”

“I’m sure you’re right. He did seem very decent, and I kind of liked him.” Cat paused. “So then, Jared, are you coming with me, or am I going clubbing all by myself?”

“I’ll just grab a quick shower,” Jared said.

The Sergeant at Arms served two distinct clienteles. The business lunch trade that wanted good food and drink at a reasonable cost in a quiet setting, and the night trade when they ratcheted up the music and the prices, threw in a band or local celebrity to DJ, and blew the doors off. It was one of the nightspots favoured by the local shakers and movers in the Vancouver real estate and stock markets, and even the bouncers wore suits and ties and were polite.

Jared recognized one of them from the marina where Arrow was berthed, a gillnet fisherman earning some extra cash between trips, and they exchanged polite nods. Cat nudged him and gestured upwards as they passed under the high entrance canopy, and he saw the camera pointed down at them as they went in. The detectives had been told there was no surveillance inside, but Clarke acknowledged that they had probably been misled on the subject. It would be highly unusual if there was not at least one camera behind the bar, overlooking the servers as they rang up their tallies.

Danny was seated at a table in the far corner, talking with one of the hostesses. He looked up and waved them over. He had a pint waiting for Jared and a bottle of overpriced Pinot Noir for Cat.

“I didn’t realize you were joining us,” Cat said with a pleased smile as she bumped fists with him before giving him a hug.

“Well, somebody has to watch out for the little guy,” Danny said. “No telling what kind of trouble he might get into on his own.” He winked at Cat and raised his pint. “Cheers.”

Jared raised his mug in response and studied Danny over the rim. Five years his senior, he was his oldest friend in the city and had changed little in the years since they’d first met in the police van delivering them both