Dark Harbor

by David K. Wilson

  However, as the tires crunched over Vanessa’s driveway, he needed to speak up out of necessity.

  “So who’s going to tell her?” he asked.

  “I am,” Jude said, his voice cracking as he spoke.

  Turner knocked on the door loudly. When there was no answer, he started to knock a second time, but Jude grabbed his hand to stop him. He stepped between the two men and reached up over the doorsill, pulling down a key and unlocking the door.

  The three men entered just as Carla and Vanessa were approaching the door. From their matted hair and puffy eyes, they had clearly both been asleep but now shared the same concerned look.

  “Was he there?” Vanessa asked.

  She stopped when she realized the somber expressions on all three men’s faces. Jude took a step forward.

  “Nessie,” he said, his voice not much louder than a whisper.

  Vanessa put her hand on the couch to steady herself. Carla stepped closer to support her.

  “I’m so sorry,” Jude continued.

  Vanessa immediately crumbled, and Carla grabbed her to keep her from falling to the ground. Sam and Turner both ran over to help and the three of them led her to the couch and helped her sit down.

  Jude walked over and sat on the coffee table directly across from Vanessa. He took her hands in his and a lone tear ran down his cheek. He attempted to speak, but couldn’t find the words. He didn’t have to. Vanessa leaned forward and put her arms around her father-in-law, sobbing into his shoulder. That was all it took to melt the stoic facade Jude had forced on himself. He leaned forward, holding Vanessa tight as they cried into each other’s arms.

  Feeling he was spying on an intimate moment, Sam looked over at Carla. She was looking at her sister, but not with a look of compassion as he would expect. She looked concerned.

  44

  “There’s no way my sister could do anything like that,” Carla whispered loudly.

  She and Sam were walking in the sand of Lucy Vincent Beach on a cool, cloudy morning. It had been a couple of hours since the men had returned with the bad news about Norm. Turner had driven Jude home and Vanessa, after taking a sedative, finally fell asleep.

  But Sam was too wound up to go to sleep and Carla suggested they get out of the house to talk through everything that happened. Sam went into more detail about Norm’s death than had been told in front of Vanessa, and Carla told Sam about her discovery of Vanessa’s affair with John, her bad relationship with Jane and, more importantly, the discovery of the knife.

  “She doesn’t strike me as the stabby kind,” Sam agreed. “Still…”

  “Still what?” Carla asked.

  “Maybe she has a violent temper you don’t know about,” Sam suggested. “Maybe she snuck over to Jane’s while you were asleep, thinking she’d find Norm there. Instead, she and Jane got into an argument and things got out of hand.”

  Carla shook her head. “I can’t even picture it.”

  “Maybe Norm caught her in the act,” he continued. “Or he walked in while Vanessa was still standing over the body. Maybe Vanessa threatened him. Either way, he panicked and ran. Worked out good for Vanessa. Until we started closing in on him. Then she had to silence him.”

  “Do you really think she could stab someone fifteen times? Do you think she would kill her husband like that?” Carla argued. “That’s the work of a cold-blooded killer.”

  “But, other than you and Jude, she’s the only one who knew where I was,” Sam said. “And she did seem to have conveniently disappeared during the time of the attack.”

  “I checked the ferry schedule,” Carla said. “There’s no way she could have got over there and back in the time she was gone.”

  Sam shrugged. “Maybe she didn’t take the ferry.”

  “Well, there would be boat records or video footage from the harbors, right?” Carla asked. “Like there was with Norm?”

  “Maybe,” Sam said. “I’ll see what I can find. But that detective has got me on a short leash. I’m probably gonna have to go through him.”

  Carla nodded, and the two stopped to watch as large waves crashed into a large cluster of boulders on the shore.

  “It is beautiful,” Carla said.

  “It’s freezing,” Sam said with a shiver. “Beaches are supposed to be warm. I should be in a bathing suit, not a jacket.”

  Carla smiled.

  “It’ll warm up in a month,” she said.

  “I still wouldn’t get in that water,” Sam said. “You put your foot in it? You’ll get frostbite.”

  “But it’s gorgeous,” Carla said.

  “I’ll be just fine looking at a postcard then,” Sam teased. “While I’m sitting on my warm beach.”

  Carla laughed, but the smile quickly faded as her mind drifted back to more pressing matters.

  “What do you think about the knife?” Carla asked.

  “There was no blood on it?” Sam asked.

  “No,” Carla said. “But even the coldest killer is going to wash a knife off before they hide it.”

  “There could be some trace DNA still on it,” Sam asked. “We need to get it. But to be admissible, we need to be careful how we retrieve it.”

  “Meaning?” Carla asked.

  “Meaning you can ‘accidentally’ find it as you’re making your sister’s bed and bring it into the station,” he answered. “If I am anywhere near it, Turner is gonna smell a rat and a DA could argue it was an illegal search.”

  They walked in silence for a bit. The pink morning clouds had faded into a light blue and birds began to sing and chirp. Under any other circumstance, it would have been a beautiful morning.

  “I feel like my sister’s hiding something,” Carla said. “But I don’t believe she’s capable of murder.”

  “We can’t forget about one other thing,” Sam said.

  “Oh God,” Carla said. “What else?”

  “The only four people that knew about the trip to the mobile home were you, me, Vanessa…and Jude.”

  Carla looked at Sam to see if he was inferring what she thought he was.

  “He said he heard the rifle blast but got knocked out when he fell,” Sam said. “Then showed up after everything had happened.”

  “That’s Norm’s father,” Carla argued.

  Sam shrugged again.

  “I’ve seen family members do some pretty cold-blooded things,” Sam said. “We have to explore every possibility.”

  “You don’t really think Jude did it, do you?” Carla asked.

  “Every possibility,” Sam repeated.

  As they walked back to the house, they mapped out a list of suspects and the pros and cons of each. They decided they’d both try to get a few hours of sleep and then dig deeper on a few things.

  “We never got that mattress,” Sam suddenly remembered.

  “We can flip a coin for the couch,” Carla said.

  Sam was about to suggest they share the couch when he was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He looked at the Caller ID and his face immediately fell.

  45

  “Hey, Chief,” he said into the phone. “You’re up awfully early.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” Chief Bannon yelled into the phone. “Why the hell am I getting calls from the Chilmark Police Department at four in the morning?”

  Sam’s stomach dropped. Bannon was the Quinton Police Chief and very open about his disdain for Sam. In fact, the only reason he let Sam take the days off on such short notice was because he’d rather be short-handed than have to look at Sam’s face. And now he was probably calling because Turner complained about him. Rather than jump straight on the defensive, Sam did what he always did. Play dumb.

  “Chilmark PD? From here on Martha’s Vineyard?” Sam asked, trying to sound shocked. “Why would they be calling you?”

  “Cut the bullshit, Lawson,” Bannon snapped. “You know better than to interfere with local investigations.”

  “Interfere?” Sam asked, abandoning
the dumb ploy immediately. “I’ve been helping them. Look, it’s this one detective. He has it out for me and…”

  “Did you or did you not conceal the whereabouts of a wanted fugitive from them?” Bannon interrupted.

  “I just wanted to be sure he was there first,” Sam said.

  “Did you or did you not let someone steal your police-issued firearm?” Bannon continued. “A weapon you should not have had on you while on vacation.”

  “I didn’t let them,” Sam argued.

  “Did or did not your direct, unwanted involvement in this case contribute to the death of the fugitive?” Bannon asked.

  Sam felt his blood beginning to boil. His anger wasn’t directed at Bannon. He was always an asshole. Sam was pissed at Turner for tattling on him like a whiny schoolkid.

  “I also got a concerned call from Bobby Lyons yesterday,” Bannon said.

  Sam let out a groan. Bobby was the dispatcher he had asked to do the background check on John Rowe.

  “Apparently you requested a criminal check on a local resident?” Bannon asked.

  “I had reason to believe he was involved with this murder,” Sam argued back.

  “You are not on duty,” Bannon said. “Again, your help is not welcome by the local authorities. I don’t need the Chilmark Chief of Police calling me at 4 in the morning to demand I get control of one of my men—who is supposedly on vacation.”

  So it wasn’t Turner, Sam thought. Still, he must’ve complained to his chief, and that’s who ratted him out. He was still responsible.

  “I told them they have my full support and I would not stand in the way if they want to arrest you for hindering their investigation,” Bannon said. “In fact, I encouraged it.”

  “Thanks, boss,” Sam sneered back. “Glad to see you have my back.”

  “I’ll have your badge if you interfere again, you understand?”

  Bannon hung up before Sam could argue back, which was probably best. Anything else Sam said would have probably got him suspended on the spot.

  He put down the phone and looked at Carla.

  “I’m guessing you heard all of that,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “Maybe we should just let Detective Turner do his job,” she said. “I don’t want you to get in any more trouble over this.”

  “If Turner wanted to arrest me, he already would have,” Sam said. “And if Bannon suspends me, I’ll…”

  He stopped to think about what his reaction would be. He was getting tired of Bannon always breathing down his neck. But Sam had a similar problem with his last chief. In fact, he’d always fought with his superiors. Clearly, he had a problem with authority.

  “If he wants to suspend me, I’ll quit.”

  46

  Jude pulled up to the police station just as Turner was walking out the door. It was late afternoon, and the detective had spent the bulk of the day at the murder scene in Dennis.

  “Paul, can I have a minute?” Jude said as he stepped out of his truck.

  Turner hadn’t even noticed Jude until he spoke. It had been a long day, and all he wanted to do was go home and get some sleep, but he couldn’t exactly just walk away from the father of a murder victim.

  “It won’t take long,” Jude said. “Please.”

  It was a nice day and Turner didn’t want to go back in the police station. There was too much that could keep him there. He pointed to a bench in the park next to the station and the two men walked in silence toward it.

  Turner could tell Jude hadn’t slept either. But he was also clearly overcome with grief. His eyes were bloodshot, but also empty. He seemed pale and even weak—two words no one would ever use to describe Jude Mayhew.

  The men sat down. Turner knew it was best to wait until Jude was ready to talk.

  “You’ve got a boy, right?” Jude finally said, looking at the ground in front of him.

  Turner nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Just turned five.”

  Jude forced a weak smile.

  “That’s a good age. A fun age,” he said. “Savor every minute of it.”

  Turner shifted uncomfortably on the bench. He felt sorry for this grieving father, but was really too tired to listen to him wax philosophically about appreciating your child. Besides, Turner had already been thinking about his own son all day.

  “You know the first thing that hits you when family dies?” Jude asked. “All the things you regret not saying to them. Or doing with them.”

  Turner nodded. He knew Jude wasn’t looking for a response. He just needed someone to talk to.

  “I was hard on Norm,” Jude said. “But he needed it. I had to be his rudder, even when it bordered on cruel. That’s what a father has to do.”

  He stooped down on one knee and picked up a small rock, twirling it between his fingers.

  “What I regret is that I never told him how proud I was of him,” he continued. “And despite everything, I really was.”

  His voice trailed off as he tried to push down his emotions.

  “Regrets are like ghosts,” he said. “They’ll haunt you forever and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  He turned to face Turner for the first time.

  “I don’t want you to have regrets,” he said.

  Turner was confused. He wasn’t sure where the conversation was going.

  “I don’t either,” Turner said. “I try to be a good dad.”

  Jude shook his head.

  “Not just about your son,” he said. “Regrets about anything. About this investigation.”

  Turner let out a sigh. He saw where this was going. Lawson must have sent him.

  “Look, I need you to know that I’m doing everything I can to find your son’s killer,” he said. “And Jane Caplan’s killer. I’m just asking you to be patient.”

  “Sam Lawson is a good man,” Jude said. “And you could use his help.”

  “That man is sabotaging everything,” Turner said. “He should have told me about the mobile home. Frankly, Jude, you should have told me.”

  Jude nodded.

  “I suppose,” he said. “But Sam was pretty sure it was a dead end.”

  “Guess he’s not such a great detective after all,” Turner snapped. “And regardless, that’s not his decision to make. I can forgive you. Norm’s your son and you were acting out of emotion. But Sam’s a cop. He should know better. And now your son is dead because of him.”

  He saw the way Jude winced at the statement, and he immediately regretted his choice of words.

  “I should have been there,” Jude muttered. “If I wouldn’t have tripped...”

  Jude’s voice trailed off as he buried his feelings deep.

  “You can’t blame yourself,” Turner said with a gentler tone. “That was all Sam’s doing. He should have called me.”

  “What would have been different if you had gone?” Jude said. “You’d have been the one hit over the head. That’s all.”

  “I wouldn’t have let anyone sneak up on me,” Turner said.

  Jude stared at the rock he was playing with, as if he was searching for the next thing to say.

  “I know you and Norm had your differences. And you’re entitled to your opinion of him,” Jude said. “Norm was a son-of-a-bitch and a thorn in your side. But, you’ve got blinders on, son. And Sam could see that.”

  “Wait. So this is my fault?” Turner asked.

  Jude clenched his jaw.

  “Stop looking for someone to blame, and start looking for who did this,” he snapped.

  Turner took a second to collect himself before speaking.

  “I’m a good cop, Mr. Mayhew,” he said. “My team are good men. We are doing more than you are even aware of, and we’re doing it by the book so that it stands up in court. But I can’t be a policeman for this town and a babysitter of some bored cowboy.”

  “You’re only one man,” Jude countered quietly. “And you’ve never conducted a murder investigation. You could use the help and
you’ve got an experienced cop offering to do just that.”

  Jude stood up and turned, looking down at Turner.

  “If my son is a murderer, then so be it. But if he is innocent and you let him take the fall because of your pride, a lot of people are going to have a lot of regrets. You understand what I’m saying?”

  Turner jumped up. “Are you threatening me?”

  As soon as he spoke, he could see that Jude’s eyes were filled with grief, not malice.

  “I’m just saying I don’t want you to look back on this case and regret you didn’t do everything in your power to find the truth.”

  47

  Carla followed Vanessa into the town of Oak Bluffs, trailing as far behind as she could without losing sight of her sister. She had been surprised that Vanessa had wanted to go out at all. Since Jude had identified the body the night before, she was spared that sadistic ritual. And even though Norm’s body was going to have to stay in Woods Hole pending a complete autopsy, there were still funeral arrangements she needed to make. Carla had offered to go with her and was surprised when Vanessa refused her help. It was enough to make Carla suspicious enough to follow her.

  Sam had gone with Jude back to the mainland to answer more questions. Luckily, he had left Norm’s work truck at Vanessa’s.

  When Vanessa pulled into the parking lot of Welch’s Funeral Home, Carla pulled over into a hardware store parking lot. She prayed Vanessa wouldn’t see her. Not only would she not appreciate being followed, but seeing her recently dead husband’s truck in her rear-view mirror could possibly trigger a heart attack.

  Carla waited patiently, grateful that the dead fish smell seemed to have mostly aired out of the truck’s cab. Still, she was relieved when Vanessa emerged from the funeral home so she could start driving and run some fresh air through the open windows. She followed Vanessa through town until she arrived at a car repair shop. Carla parked at the end of the street, hidden from view by a thick rhododendron hedge. While it hid the truck, it still offered her a decent view of the front of the shop.