"No." He stopped short, the window behind Reis providing too clear a nighttime view of the dock where someone intent on harming them had lurked in the past couple of days. "A deliberately broken mast will do that to a person."
"We can't know that for certain until your boat has been recovered and examined."
Carson wrenched his attention off the dock, back to the present and getting answers this man had the power to provide. "And I'm telling you, I keep that craft in tip-top shape."
"You weren't at all distracted today?" The agent tucked his PDA into an inside jacket pocket. "Couldn't you have screwed up locking the mast in place?"
For a second Carson wondered if maybe...then as quickly shoved aside the doubts. "I've been sailing by myself since I was ten." Which now that he thought about it didn't sound all that safe, but he'd been an expert in ditching his parents and nanny in those days. "And on the job, my life and the lives of others depend on following checklists. I do not 'screw up' in the air or on the water. Inspect those lines. I bet you'll find someone filed through the metal just enough to weaken one or two of the shrouds. Even a couple of small cuts would be imperceptible to the eye, while posing an insidious danger. Once the sails filled and pulled the lines taut, it would continue to fray until it snapped."
"An angle to investigate. I'll look into that once your boat has been impounded. I'll also ask around about activity at the dock."
Tension downgraded to half power. The guy was doing everything he asked, keeping him posted with all the facts.
Or was he? Had they all been wrong to assume Reis was top-notch at his job?
The door swung open, Nikki stepping through in a borrowed jean jumper from the proprietor, Claire McDermott, the dress a couple of inches short on Nikki, but dry.
And tempting with that extra stretch of exposed leg.
Reis straightened from the desk, his interrogator-perceptive eyes ping-ponging between the two of them. "Ms. Price, I assume you're all right."
She pulled up alongside Carson, fidgety, but understandable given their ordeal. "I'm running out of those nine lives, but otherwise okay." Her gaze skipped around the room full of spice plants. "And, uh, I think I remembered something on the boat right before all of this happened."
What? Carson's attention snapped as taut as the lines right before they'd popped.
"It wasn't a full-out memory like the other times, more of a mishmash dream. But I'm certain of one thing." Her restlessness settled into steely resignation. "There was another person in the room with Gary and me that night. A man. A blond man."
The implication sucker punched him. No wonder she'd gone tense after their nap and then asked him about blackouts. She thought he'd gotten drunk, gone after Owens and then forgotten.
His alibi only lasted until two in the morning with the emergency on the flight line that had called him away from his meeting. So he had no way of accounting for the in-between hours—except for a freaking zoo of origami animals he'd folded through the night to distract himself from thinking about seeing Nikki at Beachcombers, knowing she was dating another guy.
Reis pulled out his Palm Pilot again. "That Watkins kid has dark hair."
Nikki winced. "Which he colors according to his mood."
"His father has gray." Reis clicked away while Carson's mind churned through this latest revelation. "Could the man you're remembering have had silver hair instead of blond?"
"It's possible, but I don't think so. And the clothes didn't seem right for Billy Wade. Jeans and a flight jacket."
Which gave her all the more reason to doubt Carson.
Reis shoved off the corner of the desk. "That could still be the father since retirees keep their leather jackets. But are you sure it was a man? Women have short hair, too."
One of Owens's old girlfriends on a jealous rampage?
Reis's talent for thinking beyond an obvious assumption was promising—and frustrating. How the hell could they rule anyone out? A military man or woman, active duty or retired, blond or gray, who happened to be right-handed. That could be half the flying community.
Nikki closed her eyes as if trying to recapture the image on the back of her lids. "If it's a woman, then she's really tall. It's all fuzzy, but I'm almost certain it's a man." Her lashes fluttered open as she shook her head. "I'm sorry. That's all there is."
Screw keeping his distance. Carson looped an arm around her waist, so grateful to have her warm and alive against him, he didn't bother to hide his feelings for her. "I think that's enough for one day, Reis. The medics wanted to admit her, but acquiesced if she would promise to rest."
The OSI agent pocketed his PDA again. "I hear ya." Halfway to the door, he stopped. "She's still staying with her parents, right?"
"Hello?" Nikki stiffened. "She is right here—"
"Major," Reis continued, "how about once you take her home we meet back on base and go over some personnel files to see what we can dig up?">"My dad tried, along with one of my uncles, a couple of my cousins. But even with all the successes in A.A., I've seen failures, too. Hell, I was a selfish failure with you seven months ago."
She shifted to face him, her hands falling to rest on his thighs and searing through his jeans. "So you're doing this totally selfless thing in pushing me away, which proves you're actually a really good man. You've put us in a no-win situation, pal."