Day 2
Racing across the lake on wave runners yesterday was a friggin’ blast. Afterward we had a few drinks with our new pals Boomer and Daphne and their adorable infant daughter, Maya. It worked out perfectly, too. Because that way, Nadine and Christopher had time alone to work out their issues.
Early this morning, Levaughn and I snuck out to catch the sunrise. On the dock, I stepped down to the running board of the wave runner and swung my leg over the seat. Levaughn did the same. We could’ve ridden double, but neither of us was willing to take the backseat. No matter. Once we made it to the island we’d spend hours alone.
Too bad it didn’t happen yesterday. We’d barely gotten halfway to the island when Christopher flagged us down, spouting some crap about being hungry. He probably hated to see us having fun after he destroyed his own relationship. For Nadine’s sake we cut our ride short. After all the bullshit of dragging the trailer to the lake, I wasn’t thrilled about it. In fact, I’d had just about enough of tip-toeing around their problems. But Levaughn begged me to control the urge to smack Christopher upside the head. Though it wasn’t easy, I rolled with it. If Nadine believed they could work it out, then I’d happily stay out of it.
Now, with our new vacation buddies next door, we had the perfect excuse to steer clear of their relationship woes.
All night the island called my name. It looked so mysterious in the distance, a constant mist circling its border like a halo. Or a warning to stay back. Either way, an intense yearning drove me find out. We were staying in a vacationers’ paradise. What’s the worst that could happen?
Levaughn revved the engine of his wave runner. “Ready, babe?”
With a quick “Always” I gunned the gas, and my long hair wafted behind me. A cool spray kissed my face as I sailed across the water, the dawn sun spreading shades of peach, lavender, and pink across the horizon. What a gorgeous day. Warm, not hot. Dry, not humid. The perfect time to hit the lake, when most beachgoers were still tucked in their beds.
Up ahead, a deserted canoe drew my attention. Turning back to Levaughn, I waved him forward, then slowed for him to catch up. When he idled alongside me, I pointed at the canoe. “Looks like someone lost their ride.”
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but we should probably tow it back to shore. Canoes aren’t cheap.”
“But what about the island? Ah, c’mon. Can’t we do it on the way back? It’s not like it’s goin’ anywhere.”
“Let’s check it out real quick. What if someone got hammered last night and fell asleep out here? They could be badly dehydrated and in need of medical attention.”
“Why do you always have to be a cop?” I flashed a flat hand. “Never mind.” What could I say, no? I’d look like a heartless bitch. This excursion better not end up costing us another day. “Fine. I suppose a quick detour won’t hurt.” I veered the wave runner toward the canoe floating aimlessly in the middle of the lake.
As I neared, an ominous sensation hit me hard, and every part of my being screamed for me turn back. Dread burrowed deep when Levaughn putted alongside me.
“Please tell me that isn’t blood.” To get a better look I leaned over the vessel. Apparently, leaning to one side violated the laws of gravity, because the wave runner followed, almost flipping me into the water, and I grabbed the canoe’s edge to keep from falling.
Not my most graceful moment ever. Maybe Levaughn wouldn’t notice.
“Wow. Nice save. I thought for sure you were going over.”
“But I didn’t, did I? I was just foolin’ around to lighten the mood. No biggie.” Not even remotely close to the truth, but I sure as hell wasn’t about to admit the wave runner had gotten away from me. Jokingly, I added, “You wish you had my skills, huh?”
“I do. And your ego.”
“Ha! You’re a riot, Detective.” I turned my attention to the empty canoe, my whole body aching for his touch. “Well, we came, we saw, we conquered. Now let’s get back on track.”
“Shawnee, this could be a crime scene. As a sworn officer of the law I can’t pretend the blood doesn’t exist.”
“Oh, please. The canoe probably collided with a boat or somethin’. Without evidence of wrongdoing, you and I both know you’re not obligated to do shit. Besides, it’s not all that much blood. Some guy probably got sucker-punched, and he rowed out here to lick his wounds. End of story.”
“Is that really what you think?”
I lifted my shoulders. “Happens all the time in places like this. Hell, once we crossed the state line, did you see all the places that sold beer and wine? There had to be thirty Mom and Pop country stores alone, never mind the regular convenience stores and grocery chains.”
“Okay. Let’s say your theory’s correct. Then where’s the guy now?”
As if cued, a half-nude woman rose to the water’s surface, face-down, about three feet behind the canoe, her stark-white T-shirt acting as a beacon to her exact location. Long, blonde hair fanned across the water, riding the ripples created by the wave runners. The rest of the lake remained smooth—level—like velvet on a toss pillow. Mist hovering above the water gave the milieu a profound creepiness, and my stomach somersaulted in protest.
Swallowing hard, chills shimmied between my shoulder blades, up my neck. “Oh my God. Blonde hair.” Focused on the corpse, I backhanded Levaughn’s arm. “Daphne never mentioned wanting to come out on the lake this morning, right?”
Without a response, he dove in the water and flipped the woman face-up. When he heaved a sigh, I released a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “It’s not her.” His gaze turned to the heavens, and he uttered a soft, “Thank God.”
Papery-thin skin dangled off the woman’s face and limbs. Her skin pasty, her gaping lips blue. Widened eyes, as if she’d known the end of her life’s journey was a mere second away.
“She’s been a dead awhile.” Levaughn’s sultry voice snapped me back to the conversation. “Obviously she didn’t have air in her lungs.”
“I don’t follow. Wouldn’t that happen at the moment she died?”
“Not necessarily. The lungs can retain air for six hours after death.”
“How can you tell there’s no air?”
“Easy. She sank right away. It wasn’t till the gases in her system activated that she floated to the surface. See the bloating? All this takes time. ‘Course, the ME will have to confirm with an autopsy. It’s also possible that her lungs filled with water and she drowned.”
“You’re forgettin’ something, Detective. You have no jurisdiction here. So, let’s just call nine-one-one and get on with our day.”
“First of all, you’re not that callous. Secondly, we can’t leave till first responders arrive. Sorry, but I don’t see us getting to the island today. At least not till later this afternoon.”
“But we can’t this afternoon. We’ve got the barbecue at Daphne and Boomer’s.”
“Then it’ll have to wait till tomorrow. For chrissakes, Shawnee. A woman lost her life.”
“You’re right.” Shame consumed every inch of me while I stared at my hand controls. Could I stoop any lower? Someone’s daughter was dead, maybe even someone’s wife or mother, and I was bitchin’ about checking out a stupid island that probably sucked anyway. “I’m so sorry, babe. I don’t know what I was thinkin’. Can you tell how this poor woman died?”
“Not really, no. There’s no bullet wounds, stab wounds, or any other injury I can see. Maybe we are looking at death by drowning.”
“But you’re thinkin’ murder, I know you are.”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out you’re intrigued by this victim. Admit it.”
“Well, aren’t you? She’s floating in the middle of the lake with no outward signs of injury.”
I shrugged one shoulder. “I guess so. To me she almost looks preserved, like somehow, her killer captured the exact moment she died. Check out the expression on her face. It looks like someone frightened her.”
“Yeah, I noticed that too.”
“So, we are talkin’ murder, then?” The answer dawned on me a nanosecond too late, but I played along.
“Most likely, yes.”
“Frickin’ fabulous.”
Even on vacation we couldn’t escape the wrath of psychopaths, who got their kicks by torturing others. What I couldn’t fathom was why. What horror transpired in a person’s background to compel them to take a life? Or were they born evil and finally acted upon the urge to kill? Over the years, after more than my share of violence throughout my checkered past, I’d reviewed psychological reports of all types of killers in an attempt to gain the upper-hand.
No one could pinpoint the exact moment when most killers snapped.
A serial killer’s mind, especially, was an elusive enigma. Other than forensic psychiatrists’ and profilers’ theory of Macdonald’s triad, born in 1963 by J.M. Macdonald who authored a paper The Threat to Kill, law enforcement had few resources at their disposal. Macdonald’s triad theory was one of them, and it remained sketchy at best. In his paper for the American Journal of Psychiatry, the well-respected doctor stated violent offenders all had bed-wetting past age five, fire-starting, and animal cruelty in their background.
In 2009, when twelve Navy SEALs were shot and mutilated on Ireland’s north shores, a commenter quipped the suspect must be a budding serial killer “cutting his teeth.” Later studies proved Macdonald’s triad theory didn’t hold true due in part to the lack of relevant participants. The results in subsequent studies showed a large majority of the violent offenders who agreed to be studied fell more toward “callous disregard of human life.” Even though some of the test subjects did possess one or two of the triad’s behaviors in their background, rarely did they experience all three.
None of this disregarded the fact that a killer stalked the still waters of Long Lake, a place we were staying for another five or six days. What if he targeted one of us?
Day 3
With the barrage of State Police and Fish & Game we never made it to the island yesterday. After calling nine-one-one, the State Police dragged us down the station to give formal statements. Levaughn said his interview was a breeze, standard SOP. The cops seemed way more interested in me, drilling me for hours about my past criminal history and my current work for the Revere Police Department in Massachusetts. I had no one to blame but myself, really. Why couldn’t I control the urge? Nadine said I had an addiction to cat burglary. Nothing could be further from the truth. The reason I lived a double life was because when I saw innocent people getting ripped off, an invisible force beckoned me to right the wrong.
Maybe it’s my fatal flaw. But since I had the skills to pull off a successful heist, then why not help people victimized by white collar criminals? If I could make them whole again after the system had failed them so miserably, what’s the harm? ‘Course, try explaining that to a room full of cops.
Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep last night, waking early before the sun had a chance to rise. Around five-thirty, I slid the curtains aside in the living room to watch the sunrise, removed the security bar, and dragged open the sliders. On the beach Boomer cradled Maya in his arms, his back heaving, muffled cries echoing off the water.
Daphne wasn’t with him. Why would he take Maya down the beach at this hour?
Unsure about whether or not to intrude, I shifted my weight from leg to leg. Something must have happened. Nerves zinged through my system as I stepped down the flagstone-stairs to the sand.
Boomer never glanced in my direction. Did he think no one would notice a strapping retired SEAL falling apart on the beach?
The closer I got, the faster his cries boomeranged off the lake, and the more his pain was on display. Before me sat a broken man, a destroyed man, a man with no hope. Even though we’d formed an instant friendship with this couple, it didn’t feel like my place to intrude. But what if he needed help?
Conflicted, I rested my hand on his trembling shoulder. “You all right?” Stupid question. Of course he wasn’t all right. “I mean … all I’m sayin’ is … I’m here if you wanna talk about it. Sorry. I shouldn’t’ve bothered you.”
When I pulled my hand away, he latched on to my forearm. “It’s Daphne.” His words quavered. “She’s gone.”
“Whaddaya mean, gone?”
“When I woke up she wasn’t in the cabin. The living room sliders were open. Someone took her. I just know it. She’d never leave us, Shawnee. Not like this.”
I knelt to his level and again laid a soothing hand on the side of his arm. Panic and fear warred within me. “Are you sayin’ you think someone kidnapped her?”
With tear-doused cheeks, he nodded yes.
“Oh my God. Let’s get Levaughn. He’ll know what to do.”
“No. Wait.” He rose to his feet. “We can’t turn this over to the authorities. I’ll go stir crazy if they tell me to sit around and do nothing. I can’t do it. I won’t do it.”
“Okay, okay. Crap.” I paused to mull over the situation. “Look. Levaughn may be a cop, but he won’t want anythin’ to happen to Daphne. Unless you have a better idea?”
His gaze lowered to Maya. “I can barely think straight right now.”
“All right. We need to retrace your steps. But lemme get Levaughn first. He needs to hear this. You cool with that?”
“Okay, go. But hurry. We can’t waste any more time. Anything could be happening to her.” Tears skidded down his slick cheeks. He swept them away as quickly as they fell. “Wait. What do I do about Maya?”
“One problem at a time. Worse case, Nadine can babysit.”
When I bolted for the house, Boomer stopped me mid-stride with, “But I don’t really know Nadine. I only met her once.”
Jogging backward, I swatted his comment away. “Trust me. She loves kids.” I spun toward the house and leaped the stairs two at a time. With a wave over my head, I told him, “I’ll be back. Don’t worry. Everything’s gonna be fine.”
Easy for me to say. I wasn’t the one with a missing fiancé.
Sideways, I slipped through the sliders and careened toward the master suite, where I shook Levaughn awake. “Somethin’ happened to Daphne. Quick. Get dressed. Boomer needs our help.”
Still noticeably groggy, he propped himself on bent elbows. “Slow down. Take a breath.”
And so, I did.
“Now, what‘re we talking about, exactly?”
“I dunno. When Boomer woke this morning, Daphne wasn’t in the cabin.”
“That could mean anything. She probably went to the store.”
“And left the sliders wide-open? No way. That woman would never put her child in jeopardy. Or Boomer, for that matter. You’ve seen what great parents they are.” When he didn’t make any attempt to leave the bed, I stomped my foot. “Get up. We gotta roll.” Still he didn’t move. “Now, dammit!”
“Okay, okay. Where’re my pants?”
I tossed his khakis on the bed. “If they were a snake, they’d bite you.”
“Seriously, Shawnee? After what happened a few weeks ago, do you really think those are the best choice of words?”
“Right. My bad. Sorry. Guess I’m kinda freaked. Wait till you see Boomer. Without Daphne, he’s a shell of his former self.”
Levaughn dragged an olive-colored T-shirt over his head. “Can’t say I blame him. I’ve been there. It sucks.”
“You ain’t kiddin’. You ready or what?”
“C’mon, waiting on you to lead the way.”
I tossed him a sardonic smirk. “Always a comedian.”
By the time we’d made it back to the beach Boomer was gone.
“Oh no! They took him too.”
A long, low whistle proved me wrong. Boomer stood on his deck, feeding Maya a bottle, and pacing back and forth like a caged black bear at the zoo. I lagged behind Levaughn to give the two men a moment alone. When I finally climbed the stairs I only caught the tail end of their conversation.
“I still think we need to report it,” said Levaughn. “If she’s truly missing, we’ll need all the help we can get.”
“Maybe so, but I’ll tell you right now I’m not letting anyone push me aside. If you think you can get them to investigate, fine, but the local reporters make it seem like the authorities are clueless. How many couples have gone missing this summer?”
“Last I heard, four.”
“See? That’s why I need to start looking for Daphne now. Time is not on our side. Hell, the State Police seem more concerned with keeping the missing person reports on the DL. Why, I have no idea.”
Perched on the railing, my gaze roamed the beach as the morning sun waltzed across the still water. “Uh … guys?” I pointed to the sand below, my heart slamming against my chest wall.
A woman’s body washed ashore, drenched blonde hair matted to the sides of her face, the water cascading over her nude backside.
Where’d she come from? When we walked by a minute ago she wasn’t there.
“Daphne,” Boomer cried out. Without warning, he stuffed Maya into my arms and hopped the railing. On his knees, he swept the woman’s hair aside with the same gentleness he used with his child. A moment later, he exhaled loud enough for my pulse to slow. “It’s not her.” When his gaze met mine, tears brimmed his gray eyes, but he quickly looked away and pressed two fingers to the side of the woman’s neck. In a voice barely audible, he uttered, “Thank God it’s not her.”
Levaughn darted to his side. “Find a pulse?”
“No. She’s gone. Poor woman. Someone must be missing her.”
I was still on the deck with Maya when Levaughn told me to call Maine State Police. “Me? But you’re the cop.” I readjusted my grip on the baby bottle. “Besides, I hate the way they looked at me yesterday.”
Boomer’s brow furrowed with confusion. “You two went to the police station yesterday?”
“Umm, well?” My neck turtled in my shoulders. “Did we not mention the deserted canoe we found on the lake?”
“Not only a canoe. We found another victim,” blurted Levaughn, and I shot him a penetrating glare. As though he realized what he’d said, and the magnitude of what it meant, he couldn’t backtrack fast enough. “Oh, I mean, Maine State Police called it a drowning. No outward signs of homicide. I doubt it’s even related to Daphne’s disappearance.”
“Now is not the time to lie to me.” Boomer rose to his feet, all six-foot-three of him towering over Levaughn. “Don’t pussyfoot around me. You’re forgetting I protect people for a living, and I’ve gotten real good at smelling bullshit.”
“You’re right. I apologize. Hazard of the job, I guess.”
“Look. If we’re going to work together, I need to know I can trust you.”
He had a point, even if I wasn’t thrilled with the underlying insinuation. Because as much as I yearned to defend Levaughn’s character, it wasn’t the time nor place. We’d gotten to know Boomer and Daphne quite well over the last few days. The sheer panic of not knowing where his bride-to-be was, or of the horror she could be experiencing at the hands of a killer, shone on his face—creases in his forehead, his brow pulled low. Concern tugged down the corners of his mouth, deep sadness washing away all remnants of the guy who joked around with us; the man who adored his family, evident by the way they interacted.
When we first met Boomer, he didn’t strike me as a devoted family man, but he sure wore it well. Until today. Until the love of his life vanished. Until he held his precious daughter, fearing he’d have to raise her alone.
This wasn’t conjecture. One look at the way his shoulders slumped forward, caving his chest, illuminated the devastation tearing apart his life.
Even though I wasn’t completely comfortable around babies, I held Maya a little tighter. What if her mother never came home?