Free US Marshall 03 - The Rapids by Carla Neggers

me for my car keys?”
    An image of the two of them going at it popped into his head, but he stifled it, rising. He was taller than she was—not that she seemed to give a damn. “Sure.”
    That brought some color to her cheeks. “All right. You get to drive.” She smiled brightly, unexpectedly, with a touch of self-deprecation. “ You know President Poe. Me —I know a probable paranoid-schizophrenic old man who needs medical treatment, not the ear of a DS officer.”
    Rob narrowed his eyes on her. “This guy got to you.”
    “This entire day’s gotten to me.”
    He had an urge to ease some of her emotional turmoil. He wanted her trust and almost asked her for it straight out. But why should she give it to him? They’d known each other for two days. She’d been stuck with him, the wounded marshal whose family was at the heart of the Janssen investigation.
    Maybe it was the effects of pulling a dead man out of a Dutch waterway. He hadn’t known Thomas Kopac, but, Rob thought as he followed Maggie out to the street, if he got to the point that murder was nothing to him, just another event in a day’s work, he’d quit.
    She glanced back at him, said nothing.
    He took a sharp breath.
    And maybe he should pull back from the effects of those turquoise eyes and that red hair and remember that she’d received the Janssen tip, that she had hidden motives for today’s trip to Den Bosch.
    Rob had less reason to trust her than she did him.
    He had his own contacts.
    He’d make a few calls and check out the old guy in the madras shirt himself, see what people knew.

Seven
    E than Brooker stood next to a subdued William Raleigh on an arched bridge over the Binnendieze, the water dark and quiet with the fading sun. After the discovery of the American’s body, boat tours had been canceled for the day.
    “Ever do the boat tour?” Ethan asked.
    “Once,” the older man said, staring down at the canal-like river. “It’s fascinating. You see things you never get to see on ordinary canal tours. The waterway runs behind buildings, not in front, and it literally takes you under the city. It’s all very clean. You get an up-close view of the architecture of centuries-old buildings. There are many small surprises along the way. An unexpected window box or a pot of flowers, a statue. And it’s so quiet.” Raleigh glanced sideways at Ethan. “I take it you’ve never done the tour?”
    “No, sir.”
    Raleigh looked tired. They hadn’t expected TomKopac to turn up dead. Scooting out of St. John’s before Spencer or Dunnemore pounced had taken some doing. Ethan had stood watch in the cathedral, in hiding, and gave Raleigh the high sign when the good marshal showed up. Dunnemore would have recognized Ethan. That meant Raleigh had to get away from the DS agent on his own. If it’d come to it, the old buzzard would have nailed her with his walking stick. It was more an affectation than a necessity, but it would have done the job.
    Instead, Maggie Spencer had let him go.
    Why? What had Raleigh told her? Their meeting was his idea.
    It was to have followed a meeting with Tom Kopac.
    “Did you tell Spencer that you and Kopac were supposed to meet this morning, but he was shot to death before—”
    “I didn’t see how that would help.”
    “I don’t know Dutch law—hell, I don’t know U.S. law—but I’m guessing they could haul you in as a material witness.”
    “I have no information about the murder today.”
    “What did you tell Spencer?”
    “I didn’t have much time. She knows my name. That I knew her father.”
    Ethan turned to his side and leaned a hip against a stone support column of the old bridge. “She thinks he was killed by Czech bank robbers?” he asked. “Or does she know you’re a suspect—”
    “I’m not a suspect. Not in his murder.”
    “In fucking up something that led to his murder.” Ethan didn’t sugarcoat his words, although he and Raleigh had never discussed just how much Ethan had