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Authors: Victoria Howard
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convinced her to tell him, saying that if she loved him as much as she said, then as her future husband he had a right to know such things. Skye had caved in and told him that she and John were equal partners.
Skye never discussed what she and John were working on outside the office and she wasn't going to break that personal rule even for Michael. She tried hard to explain that to him, but he refused to accept her decision, questioning her over and over again. Each time his tone would be civil, but she would neve r forget the anger in his eyes.
Unable to fathom why her response had annoyed him so much, Skye ignored the warning voices in her head. Michael's constant questions were nothing compared to the e vents that ultimately unfolded.
From the day they’d met, Michael had been attentive to her. Skye had been flattered. It hadn't crossed her mind, that Michael could have a hidden agenda when he suggested they meet. S he ha d been too wrapped up in her own happiness to realize that anything was amiss. Just how wrong she'd been.
Chapter Six
The bad weather brought little respite for Walker. After leav ing Skye, he decided to fly to Seattle. He stopped at the local store on his way to the airport and purchased a copy of the island paper. His stress level rose a few points when he noticed a small article concerning the increasing numbers of dead fish that were washing up on the island’s beaches. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he read on. The journalist didn't give a reason for the phenomenon other than the storm, but Walker knew differently. He cursed himself for foolishly thinking the rainstorms would buy him some time to continue his investigation .
A short time later he surveyed the mountain of paperwork that covered every inch of his desk. But he was too restless to concentrate for long on anything other than the recent events on the island, and the beauti ful woman staying in his cabin.
He swore viciously under his breath. He was still mad at himself for allowing the realtor to lease it so early in the season. He had enough problems without adding to them with his own stupidity. So far, no fish had washed up in the cove in front of the cabin, but it was only a matter of time before they did. And as for the very attractive Ms Dunbar, under different circumstances, he mused, it might be interesting to get to know her better. But, as things stood he remained highly suspicious of her and her motives for renting the cabin.
He stared moodily out of the window at the Seattle skyline and considered his options. Slowly a strategy formed in his mind, which, if successful, could give him the lead he was looking for. His first call was to the Port O ffice at Friday Habor . He needed exact details of the tides for the last few days, the names of any vessels that had passed through the st raits, their cargo and heading.
Normally such information would not be available, but fortunately for Walker, Joe had contacted the Port Director , and told him to expect Walker’s phone call . His second call was to the meteorological office for details of wind direction and velocity. Finally he entered all the information he'd gathered on to a large-scale map of the islands, and marked where the late st batch of fish had washed up.
According to the Port Director, none of the ships that had passed through the straits in recent days could have been responsible for the new report s of dead fish. They had mainly been cargo vessels deliver ing containerized stores to small remote villages . Walker studied the map ; the lines of concentration furrowed his brow. If his calculations were correct, then whoever was illegally dumping chemical substances was doing so somewhere in the waters between Friday Harbor and Shaw Island.
He fervently hoped that the chemicals were in containers, rather than being dumped overboard like raw sewage. If they were, and the containers
Skye never discussed what she and John were working on outside the office and she wasn't going to break that personal rule even for Michael. She tried hard to explain that to him, but he refused to accept her decision, questioning her over and over again. Each time his tone would be civil, but she would neve r forget the anger in his eyes.
Unable to fathom why her response had annoyed him so much, Skye ignored the warning voices in her head. Michael's constant questions were nothing compared to the e vents that ultimately unfolded.
From the day they’d met, Michael had been attentive to her. Skye had been flattered. It hadn't crossed her mind, that Michael could have a hidden agenda when he suggested they meet. S he ha d been too wrapped up in her own happiness to realize that anything was amiss. Just how wrong she'd been.
Chapter Six
The bad weather brought little respite for Walker. After leav ing Skye, he decided to fly to Seattle. He stopped at the local store on his way to the airport and purchased a copy of the island paper. His stress level rose a few points when he noticed a small article concerning the increasing numbers of dead fish that were washing up on the island’s beaches. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he read on. The journalist didn't give a reason for the phenomenon other than the storm, but Walker knew differently. He cursed himself for foolishly thinking the rainstorms would buy him some time to continue his investigation .
A short time later he surveyed the mountain of paperwork that covered every inch of his desk. But he was too restless to concentrate for long on anything other than the recent events on the island, and the beauti ful woman staying in his cabin.
He swore viciously under his breath. He was still mad at himself for allowing the realtor to lease it so early in the season. He had enough problems without adding to them with his own stupidity. So far, no fish had washed up in the cove in front of the cabin, but it was only a matter of time before they did. And as for the very attractive Ms Dunbar, under different circumstances, he mused, it might be interesting to get to know her better. But, as things stood he remained highly suspicious of her and her motives for renting the cabin.
He stared moodily out of the window at the Seattle skyline and considered his options. Slowly a strategy formed in his mind, which, if successful, could give him the lead he was looking for. His first call was to the Port O ffice at Friday Habor . He needed exact details of the tides for the last few days, the names of any vessels that had passed through the st raits, their cargo and heading.
Normally such information would not be available, but fortunately for Walker, Joe had contacted the Port Director , and told him to expect Walker’s phone call . His second call was to the meteorological office for details of wind direction and velocity. Finally he entered all the information he'd gathered on to a large-scale map of the islands, and marked where the late st batch of fish had washed up.
According to the Port Director, none of the ships that had passed through the straits in recent days could have been responsible for the new report s of dead fish. They had mainly been cargo vessels deliver ing containerized stores to small remote villages . Walker studied the map ; the lines of concentration furrowed his brow. If his calculations were correct, then whoever was illegally dumping chemical substances was doing so somewhere in the waters between Friday Harbor and Shaw Island.
He fervently hoped that the chemicals were in containers, rather than being dumped overboard like raw sewage. If they were, and the containers
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