Shallow Grave - Karen Harper MIRA

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the job after leaving the airline.

      “Roger that,” he responded to final directions from the small control tower. “Over and out.”

      He steered the plane, which the FBI secretly owned, toward the hangar where a contact he’d met only once would service the plane, actually electronically “debrief” the recordings from his latest Stingray mission. The camera and tracking device mounted under the fuselage were worth about $400,000 of government money, and there were other pilots in the air like him, especially along the Mexican border. The Stingray aviation surveillance program relied on a tracking system that acted like a cell phone tower, one that recorded locations and could photograph events. If it had to, a Stingray plane could first focus on an area or neighborhood, then pinpoint a person and snap quite a clear picture—if they had a cell phone on them, and who didn’t lately?

      The FBI had wanted him to take a desk job in DC, overseeing Stingray, but he hadn’t wanted to leave Naples, Lexi—and now Brit. Nor had he ever gotten flying out of his blood. He needed some excitement, the kind that gave him a new lease on life. And Brit—whom he’d actually met through her father, an ex-marine who had been in special ops—was a very intriguing woman both in bed and out. She had a good sense of humor too. She’d joked from the first that he had to marry her so that her name would be Brittany Britten.

      He rechecked the controls, unlatched his seat belt and popped the door. He was barely off the concrete hangar floor and out into the sunny, windy afternoon when his cell sounded—the “Marines’ Hymn.” Yeah, he was a die-hard leatherneck, always would be.

      The caller ID said it was Brit.

      “Hello, tiger girl,” he said.

      “Don’t. Don’t say that.”

      “What’s the matter? You’re crying. Where are you?”

      “Jace, believe it or not I’m with Claire and Nick at the BAA.”

      “What hap—”

      “My father went into the tiger’s cage—somehow. I mean I know how. Jace, it mauled him, killed him. The police are here and—”

      He felt like he’d been hit in the gut. Ben. That big man dead? In the tiger cage! He’d—he’d gotten so close to him so fast. He couldn’t be dead! Jace had liked the older man from the first. He’d kidded him just the other day that it had been a long time since he’d had a wingman, and Ben was like that to him.

      “Brit, I’m so sorry. Is Lexi still there? Is she okay?”

      “No. I mean, yes, the children are safe. Everyone is gone, even the paramedics. They took his body to the medical examiner for an autopsy. Why cut him up when he’s a mess? I—I need to talk to the police now, keep the press away. It ruins everything—this place, my plans, our lives.”

      He felt like throwing up, but his military training kicked in. Assess. Keep calm. React.

      “Slow down, honey. Breathe. I’ll come right out. I just landed on Marco. Will they let me in?”

      “I guess. Nick’s still here. I’m going to ask him to represent Mother and me if we need it, and—”

      “Listen to me. The damn tiger killed him, you didn’t! I’ll be there ASAP. Listen, if it comes to needing legal help, Nick’s firm is the best. You need other support, you got me.”

      He punched off the phone and broke into a run across the tarmac toward his car.

       4

      Claire and Nick finally had permission to leave. With Jackson’s help, they had just run the gauntlet of media and curious onlookers outside the gate. With microphones thrust in their faces, Nick had made a brief statement that the accident was under formal investigation and they had no other comment. Claire was upset that cameras rolled and the newspaper photographer took several shots. After all they’d been through, she had no desire to be back in the glare of publicity and the peril it could sometimes lead to.

      Things had been going so well, and now this tragedy. She and Nick had both given statements to the Naples detective who had arrived. Ann Hoffman had been interviewed briefly since she had not been in the immediate area nor even seen the tiger that day. Besides, she was in shock. Brittany had told Nick that Jace had suggested he represent her, at least for now, so Nick had sat in with her for a lengthy interview with Detective Jensen.

      When they were in their car in the parking lot, Claire exhaled hard and said, “Whew. The last time I was on TV, it brought our enemies to our front door. I just hope there won’t be criminal charges against Brittany or Ann. And they can hardly charge a dead man with criminal negligence.”

      “Or his own suicide. But as you said, no one would try to kill themselves that way. And I think—from the fact Jace admired Ben Hoffman so much—with a group of young kids nearby, it couldn’t be suicide.”

      “You’re not thinking it could be murder?”

      “As I told the media mavens, I’m sure there will be an investigation. I may help out right now, but after all we’ve been through, we’re not getting involved in this. Listen,” he said, reaching over the console to put a hand on her knee, “let’s sit here for a few minutes to see if Jace drives in so we can brief him before he goes inside.”

      “Okay, fine. But Brittany was in charge of that tiger. Could the State of Florida at the very least accuse the BAA of inadequate safety procedures or something like that?”

      “Her father’s the one who went in the cage. Thank God it wasn’t that the beast got out. She’s still adamant that the tiger was only doing what came naturally. She told the police that the cat should not be punished, not be put down, and she wanted to be there to watch when it regains consciousness. But about your question—yes. The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission and even the US Department of Agriculture might get involved, but for a private, small zoo—not sure. There’s Jace’s car. I’ll go snag him.”

      Nick got out and hurried over to where Jace parked. Claire had to admit, despite trying to keep it together in front of Nick and the police, that she felt emotionally drained and exhausted. Feeling revved up could actually slow her responses, and her narcolepsy was kicking in to make her want to sleep on her feet. In the chaos, she hadn’t taken her herbal stimulant, Country Mallow, on time either. It was at home with her other herbals, which is where they should have been by now. Timing was the problem with herbs, at least hers, so maybe she needed to start carrying a thermos of two kinds of herbal tea around with her.

      At least talking on her cell earlier to Lexi and Darcy had calmed her some. Her sister still had Duncan because his mother had not yet been back from her job. Darcy said they had decided not to tell the children what had happened, only that there had been an accident, but Claire figured Darcy was waiting for big sis psych major to explain. And in case they heard about it elsewhere, it was going to be best to tell them the truth.

      Claire watched Nick flag down Jace as he parked. She got out and walked over one lane and several spaces toward them as the men walked toward the gate. They evidently didn’t see her.

      The only two men she had ever loved seemed so different from each other. Nick was dark-haired with silvering at his temples and gray eyes—her brilliant silver fox. He was several inches taller than Jace, who was more muscular. At age forty, Nick had a sexy, deep voice and tightly coiled but smoothly controlled body and demeanor. He was a deep thinker, with deeper emotions, who had helped many people—mostly without fanfare. Jace was thirty-four, blond with a broad face and blue eyes, still navy-short hair, sharp movements, a modern day Viking with a swashbuckling aura. His feelings were usually all on the surface and sometimes likely to explode.

      “What’s with the crowd?” Claire heard Jace ask Nick. “Can’t they leave a tragedy alone? It’s worse than rubbernecking at a car wreck. I—I really liked Ben. Hell of a thing.”

      Claire could

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