As we neared the island all oxygen left my lungs, tightening my chest, like a strike from an invisible punch. The lake air electrified the tiny hairs on my body, and chills fled down my spine and the back of both legs as if escaping the killer in our midst.
No one uttered a word.
Instead, Boomer gestured to Levaughn to guide the boat to a rickety dock. Was it even safe? There must be another dock somewhere. This one hadn’t been maintained in years, the breeze creaking its weathered floorboards, rocking its posts.
From the day we first arrived at Long Lake I’d pictured the island as paradise. Today it looked more like hell.
I was about to suggest we search for another dock when Boomer raised a stick-straight finger to his lips, stopping me cold. The unsettling silence enhanced the isolation. If Daphne and the others were here, wouldn’t we hear crying, screaming, or something to indicate their presence? And what about Ms. Darling? If she were home, how’d she get here? Unless I was right about another dock.
Visible through tall pines and thick shrubbery, a rock chimney stood sentry against the battered logs of a cabin. On the dock, I backhanded Levaughn’s arm and pointed. In return, he nodded, and then withdrew his service weapon, triangulating it out in front of him as he stepped off the boat, onto the dock. With the gun, he indicated Boomer should take the lead. He’d also brought a pistol.
The only one unarmed, I mustn’t’ve gotten the memo. Good going, fellas.
With a swing of his arm, Levaughn insisted I stay behind him as we trampled across the sand to an opening in the tree line. Branches cracked under our weight, thorny vines whipping our shins as we stalked a dirt trail that led to an aging log cabin. When we emerged from the woods, I blinked. Rubbed my eyes. Blinked again.
How was this possible?
At the picnic table, two decaying corpses sat across from one another, elbows resting on the top. Two males, naked from the waist up and barefooted. Both men wore swim trunks. What was left of them, anyway. Dried blood stained their skin. The back of their skulls caved in by a blunt object. Or a fist. From this angle I couldn’t tell which. Sunglasses perched off-kilter on the bridge of their noses, the sun glinting off the tinted-glass. Skin melted in strips off blackened-faces, their stomachs bloated, veins and arteries bluing under the surface like they’d been baking in the heat and humidity for weeks.
I slapped a hand over my nose and mouth. Vomit lurched up my throat, and I gagged, my stomach back-flipping, announcing this spectacle was beyond twisted. Who in their right mind would do this?
Beyond the picnic table, I zeroed in on a tire swing, hanging from the thick branch of an oak tree. Another male corpse swayed with the breeze, his hands duct-taped to the rope, legs dangling in front of him. To my right, two females reclined in lounge chairs, long hair draped over the back—one blonde, one brunette—their toenails painted hot pink. Neither moved.
Everything about this scene warned me to turn back, but I had to make sure the blonde wasn’t Daphne. Hugging the wood-line, I padded toward them. Slow. Stealth. Quiet. As I neared, I turned my attention to Boomer, and my heart twisted in ways I never thought possible. When I refocused on the women, both in bikinis, a fiery heat rose up my neck and face, and I screamed.
Boomer charged toward the lounge chairs. He fell to his knees beside Daphne, who stared straight ahead, her wrists bound to the armrests by zip ties, her mouth duct-taped. With a loving hand, he swept strands of hair off her face. “Sweetheart?” He removed the duct tape with the gentleness of a surgeon peeling back the gauze, fearing it may stick to dried blood. Then he withdrew a hunting knife from an ankle holster, hidden under his jeans, and freed her hands.
Helpless, my weight shifting from leg to leg, I chewed off three fingernails. “Is she …?” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word “dead.”
“She’s alive, but in shock.” Tears spilled over the rims of his eyes. Rage replaced sorrow. “What’d that bitch do to her?” He slid his arms under Daphne’s neck and knees and carried her toward the trail. “I need to get her to a hospital ASAP. Let the authorities handle the suspect. I can’t risk her falling into a coma, or worse. We have no way of knowing what injuries she’s sustained.”
Levaughn called from inside the cabin, but didn’t specify what he found.
“Get her to the boat,” I said. “I’ll go check it out.”
Conflicted, Boomer wavered between fleeing the island and seeing this through till the end, evident by the way his gaze ping-ponged between the trail entrance and the cabin. “Dammit. I need to know she went through. After all this, I can’t stand by and wait, and you two will be stranded if I leave with the boat.”
He raced to the cabin, with Daphne tucked against his chest, her body limp in his arms, long blonde hair waving around his bicep. By the time I reached the cabin Levaughn had backed into the doorway. Odd. Whatever was inside couldn’t be good if it made a seasoned detective uncomfortable.
Against my better judgement, I asked, “What’s wrong, babe? Do I wanna know what you found?”
Right then, I caught a muffled female voice. When I poked my head in the doorway, a woman about thirty cowered in the corner. Tucked in a ball, she wore a high ponytail with one pink barrette, identical to the one we’d found on the beach. “Dale, we need to leave the island for good,” she said to no one. “It’s not safe. Duke’s out of control. Please, I’m begging you.”
In an instant her entire demeanor changed. “Don’t be silly, Dory. Duke loves us.”
A darkness emerged next. “What are you two shitheads bitchin’ about now?”
“Please don’t call us names, Duke. We don’t call you names.”
Shoulders quaking, Dory sobbed into cupped hands.
A split-second later, her head raised. An infinite fury transformed her facial features into a look of pure hatred. “There she goes again, turning on the water works. Cry, Dory, cry.” She rose to her feet, stood tall and proud. “Come on, Dale. We don’t need to listen to this crap.”
The hard lines in her forehead softened, her bottom lip pouted like a young child’s, and she knelt to one knee. “Dory, it’s okay.” Her hand patted an invisible shoulder. “Don’t listen to him. Duke’s just a big ol’ meanie sometimes.”
Levaughn shifted his widened gaze to me, and I mouthed, “What. The. Fuck?”
He jabbed his head toward the exit, and we backed out of cabin and closed the door. At the bottom of the stairs, Boomer said, “Well?”
“Get her out of here,” countered Levaughn. “We’ll stay and wait for Maine State Police.”
“Did Ms. Darling confess?”
“Uh, not exactly,” I said. “You’re not gonna get the answers you want. Ms. Darling’s lost her frickin’ mind.”
Levaughn corrected me. “She’s a very sick woman. Textbook Dissociative Identity Disorder.”
I snapped a beach towel off the railing and draped it over Daphne, still locked in Boomer’s arms. “Take care of her. She’s all that matters now.”
“Will you call Nadine and tell her to bring Maya to the hospital?” His gaze lowered to his precious love. “She’ll want to see her the minute she comes out of it.” He kissed her cheek. “Won’t you, sweetheart?”
“Absolutely. Consider it done.”
“Thank you, guys … for everything.” He spun on heels and took off, evergreen branches marking his escape through the trail.
I turned to Levaughn. “Now what?”
“About Ms. Darling? She’s the State Police’s problem. Wanna give them a buzz while I guard the door? Tell ‘em we solved their case.”
“With pleasure.” I grinned. “Wait till they get a look at their suspect. Whaddaya do with someone like that?”
“They’ll have her evaluated. Then it’s up to the DA on how to proceed.”
A loud crash inside the cabin stopped us cold. Side by side we peered through the glass in the door. The table lamp hurled across the room, and a deep voice boomed, “What have you three morons done to my home?”
The childlike voice shrieked, “Mom, you came back!”
Chapter 15
Day 6
Earlier in the day, Boomer called and invited all four of us next door for a cookout. I wasn’t sure what happened during the time Nadine and Christopher babysat Maya, but whatever it was, their love goggles were on tight. As for Levaughn and me, our relationship was stronger than ever.
After the authorities met us on the island, they carted Dory Darling to the nearest mental hospital to get her the help she needed. The DA planned to press charges, but good luck proving her sane. A defense attorney could argue Duke was the murderer, not Dory. It wasn’t an ideal outcome. Maybe someday the victims’ families could find solace.
The entire ordeal felt half-finished. Many of the bodies were never recovered. The ones they did find were in various stages of decomposition, the men killed by blunt force trauma, the women drowned. To speed things up, some got an ice pick to the brain first. If Dory knew where Duke had hidden the rest of them, she wasn’t telling. Levaughn said she was probably too frightened.
How do you escape a madman who lives inside you?
While the men clinked bear bottles, celebrating the last day at Long Lake and Daphne’s quick recovery, Nadine and Daphne giggled. With Maya bouncing on my knee, I made the mistake of saying, “Kids aren’t so bad,” and Levaughn’s face snapped toward me.
“Really?” He reached into his pocket. “Because there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
“Whoa.” I flashed a flat hand. “Down, boy.”
“Relax.” He knelt in front of me, and I cradled Maya against my chest, my knee jouncing with excess energy. In his hand he held two plane tickets. “First class trip to Hawaii. We leave in a few days. I thought you could use a real vacation.”
“But what about work?”
“Already cleared it with Lieutenant Holt.”
“How?”
“Captain Jakes from Maine State Police reached out. He explained how much they appreciated our help.” He winked. “Brothers in blue, baby.”
Boomer cleared his throat. “You mean, brothers in red, white, and blue.”
“I stand corrected.” He gave Boomer a pat on the back, and then an evil little grin emerged on his face. “I’d invite you and Daphne to join us, but one vacation with you two was enough.”
“Agreed.” He laughed for the first time in days. “You northerners are all kinds of crazy.”
Daphne darted into the house and cranked the country music. Hanging halfway out the sliders, she asked, “How’s that food coming, cowboy?”
Pushing the lobster tails around the grill, Boomer also forked the steaks. “It won’t be long now, my love.”
“Great. Who wants another round before we eat?”
Hands shot up all around me.
“If you wanna take Maya, I’ll get ‘em. Shouldn’t you be relaxing?”
“I’m fine, Shawnee. Really I am. Boomer hasn’t let me move from the sofa for two days. It feels good to be up and about.”
During one of the worst vacations of our lives, we’d gained lifelong friends. No matter what we had to weather, nothing could break the bond between us.
Today wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, though. For me, a tinge of sadness blended with the buttery aroma of corn on the cob. Dory’s alternate personality, Duke, wreaked havoc. Families across the country had a long road ahead of them. I was almost ashamed to admit part of me hoped the doctors could help Dory come to grips with what she’d done. Perhaps teach her how to cope with her devastating illness. It couldn’t be easy living a fractured life.