by Lisa Harris
“Great. I’ll take this to him. It’s important and he needs to see it right away. I’ll be right back to help with interviews.”
“Sounds good. Hey, where is this woman anyhow?”
Skelly gestured. “I sat her in the back of Sanderson’s unit. It was the closest. Figured it was best to get her off the street as soon as possible.”
Miller nodded. Gave him a thumbs up. “Good.”
There it was again. The implication that because he was from Kansas, he might not understand the dangers of leaving a witness exposed in the middle of a street.
He gritted his teeth as he made his way to the back of Captain Danielson’s cruiser. He wasn’t sure what it was about Miller, but the man made his skin crawl.
The alley was dark and the strobing lights didn’t do much to penetrate it. He reached the back of the vehicle and checked the far side without finding the captain. He paused to consider. Strange. Looked like he’d have to talk to him later. For now… He glanced down at the phone. An officer had died trying to get whatever was on this to the cops.
Smashed as it was, the phone likely wouldn’t even power on. But he’d worked in data recovery for his department back in Wichita. It would speed the investigation along if they didn’t have to wait for tech to get their hands on this device.
Decision made, he strode to his own car and slipped behind the wheel. It only took him seconds to power on his dashboard laptop. The software he needed was already installed. He snagged a pair of touchscreen gloves and a cord from his glovebox. He plugged the phone into the laptop. A few clicks later, data was dumping from the phone into his computer. The whole process took less than five minutes. He was unplugging the phone when the call came over the radio. “Skelly, Miller says you have the phone?”
That was the captain’s voice.
He keyed his mic. “Yes sir. Locking it in my evidence boot.” He didn’t feel comfortable announcing over the air that he’d dumped the data from it too. He would tell the captain later. There were too many frequency surfers. Who knew who might be listening?
“I want to get that to tech, ASAP. I’m going back to the station now. Bring it.”
Skelly resisted a roll of his eyes. Where had the man been a few minutes ago? “On my way, sir.” At least now he could tell him that he’d dumped the data and it should be on the station servers.
He slipped out of the driver’s seat and pivoted to retrace his steps. The captain’s vehicle hadn’t moved. But he still wasn’t there. Skelly bent to get a closer look into the vehicle’s interior.
The sound behind him barely registered before pain bloomed across the back of his skull and the world faded to black.
It was a bold move, slipping into another officer’s cruiser in plain view of anyone paying attention. But with the darkness and all the flashing lights, Miller knew that if anyone happened to notice, they would simply think he was Skelly. If the man hadn’t snatched that phone back out of his grasp a moment ago, none of this would have been necessary.
The driver’s seat was still warm from Skelly sitting in it. He’d been watching. And he’d definitely seen Skelly’s vehicle computer power up.
He didn’t take time to see if he’d actually dumped the data from the phone. It didn’t really matter now. What was done, was done.
It only took a few swift keystrokes of his gloved fingers to delete the hard-drive on the computer.
He exited the vehicle and casually walked toward a group of bystanders as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He shot off a text.
done.
The reply came immediately.
good. taking care of it.
He felt a measure of satisfaction as he stuffed the phone back into his pocket and scanned the crowd. He leveled them with a look that spanned the gap between friendly and approachable, and all-business. “Good evening, everyone. Who can tell me what they saw tonight?”
At a desk in the corner of the Everett Police Station, a hunched figure sat in deep concentration, fingers flying over the keyboard. Too bad about Officer Skelly. He’d been a good kid. Knew his stuff. If only he hadn’t decided to dump that phone, they would have left him alone.
There it was! The file that had streamed into the police server at precisely 10:27 pm. A couple keystrokes zapped it into oblivion and he released a whoosh of breath as he sank against his seat.
For a brief moment he pondered the years when he’d kept his nose clean with a touch of nostalgia. Those had been the days. Back when his idealism with this job had still been bright and shiny. Before he realized that no matter how long and hard he fought, he would never be able to change the world. Never be able to get rid of all the crooks. Before he’d decided that if he was going to have any sort of retirement cushion, he needed to take matters into his own hands.
This Treyvon kid had nearly cost them. Imagine if he’d worked this long only to lose his pension? Well, he smirked, there was the nice cushion he’d built for himself over the last few years, but it was the pride of the thing. He wanted to still be able to attend functions with his buddies, and if this had gotten out, that definitely wouldn’t have been an option.
He realized his hands were trembling and scooped them back through his hair. Well, no matter. Together they’d taken care of it.
But this had been close. Too close.
Camryn had only been in the car alone for a few minutes when a different officer slipped into the front seat. He glanced back through the wire mesh that separated them, and gave her a nod. “Evening, ma’am. I’m going to run you to the station now.”
“Where’s Officer Skelly?”
He waved a hand, then started the car. “He’ll be tied up here for several hours yet.”
Yes. She supposed he would. Perhaps the words Skelly had said a moment ago were that she should wait until another officer came to drive her to the station. That must have been it.
The man eased the nose of the car past a couple officers.
A man in a suitcoat and tie dashed up and banged on the hood with the flat of his palm. “Stop!”
A jolt zipped through Camryn’s chest.
“Miller, stop! I’ve got this!”
The officer in the front seat rolled his eyes and his window whirred down. “I’m just running her to the station. Skelly said to.”
“No. No.”
Camryn couldn’t see anything of the man protesting, other than that he reached for her door handle.
“Packard and I drew this case. She’s my witness and I don’t want anyone talking to her before we do.” He wrenched open her door. “Ma’am, if you’d come with me please?”
The officer in the front seat met her eyes in the rearview mirror and there was suddenly a coldness about them that sent a chill down her spine. She pressed into the seat and debated her options. Maybe she should go home. The cops could call her and interview her later.
But the man outside her door bent and looked in at her, and there was something calming about his expression. “My car is right this way.” He tipped a nod down the street and offered a hand to help her out.
And before she could change her mind, she fled the cold eyes glaring at her in the mirror.
Chapter Four
The detective helped her into his back seat, then climbed in front. He put his car into gear and eased away from the officer named Miller who had stepped from the other vehicle and now studied her through the back window of the car with cold eyes.
Camryn clutched her coat at her throat.
She studied her new driver—captor?—through the mesh grill of the car. Though the interior of the car was dark, she could tell he had blond hair, and when he met her glance for a brief moment in the rearview mirror his gaze was frank and open. He did have nice eyes, and a kind look. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You’re safe with me.”
But wasn’t that what any man might say whether she was safe or not? Still, at least his frank expression gave her more reassurance than the last officer’s had.
/> In the mirror, his gaze dipped to where she still clutched at the neck of her coat. “I’m taking you to the police station.” He turned left at the next stop sign. “See? That’s the building right up there.” He pointed with his left hand and she caught the flash of a wedding band on his ring finger.
Why did that ease her tension? It eased a little more when he did pull into the parking garage beneath the station. “Why didn’t you want that other man to bring me here?”
His gaze bounced off hers in the mirror before returning to concentrate on parking in a space right next to the elevators. “We just have a few questions for you.”
An answer that wasn’t really an answer at all. As he opened her door, she decided not to push. For the moment, she was content to not feel threatened.
The elevator doors whooshed open and it only took a few seconds to climb to the seventh floor.
At the door that led into the main precinct, the plain-clothed officer motioned for her to wait. He poked his head inside and checked both directions. Seemingly satisfied, he gestured for her to follow him. “Right this way.” He quickly escorted her into an office with ‘Deputy Chief’ on the door plaque. They stepped past a messy desk and then through a side door into a drab room not much larger than the tiny bathroom in her apartment. Gray walls met gray ceiling, and the chipped stick-on linoleum tiles on the floor did nothing to help the room’s appeal. Nor did the yellow leather couch that looked like it could have been transported here straight from the 1970s. A steel table surrounded by three plastic chairs was the only other item of note in the room.
“Please stay in here until we come for you.” He started to shut the door.
“Wait! Please. I have to work an early shift. How long is this going to take?”
“We’ll be with you shortly,” the man clipped. And then he left, shutting the door to the office behind him.
Camryn sank onto the couch and rested her head into her hands. It was surprisingly more comfortable than she’d expected. A headache pinched. She massaged her temples, wishing for a cup of coffee. Maybe she’d just rest her head on the arm of the couch for a few minutes.
Gandry Wright braced his feet wide, fighting to maintain his balance on the tiny fishing boat. He paused his work and cast his gaze across the undulating water lit only by the milky spill of a full moon. Puget Sound always looked so calm from the shore. He never would have suspected that the gently rolling swells were actually more like rolling mountains intercut with steep troughs. When the boat bobbed to the top of a swell, he could see the golden glow of Everett’s lights along the shore. To the south, the sweeping strobe from the Mukilteo lighthouse sliced through the darkness, then his boat slid down the other side of the wave.
He shook his head. He didn’t like being out here on the water all alone, but the boss had insisted this was the best way to get rid of the body. No matter. He would soon be done with the task and could head back to shore.
His hands cramped as he pried the last tooth from the dead man’s skull and dropped it into the cold depths of the Sound. He would take care of the hands next. He worked his fingers in and out, before he reached for the saw and placed it against the skin of the man’s wrist. It took a moment for the blade to catch and then it grated a sound that set his teeth on edge. He lurched for the side of the boat and for the first time that night, as he cast up the contents of his stomach, was glad to be the only one alive on this boat. He had a reputation for being the one to call to get anything done, but the truth was, he’d never been called on to cut up and dispose of a body before. Especially not the body of a freshly-murdered police officer.
Allowing himself two deep inhales he put the saw back to work. “Sorry man. No one deserves to go out this way. But…” he shrugged one shoulder. “I know you understand that I’m only doing what I have to. I don’t want to end up like you, if you catch my drift.”
The strategically placed five-gallon bucket that he’d purchased at the big box store specifically for this job caught the severed hand when it fell.
He ought to toss the parts as he cut them, but he felt a little squeamish still. The thought of that severed hand laying in the bottom of the bucket made his stomach roil. Crazy since he’d just sawed the thing off. He would toss everything one by one once the whole of this was done. Then he’d go home and drink until he couldn’t hold another shot.
He moved the bucket, first beneath the other hand, then the head, then one of the feet.
He had just started in on the last foot when he heard it.
He froze and jerked his head up. His little boat swooped through the valley of one trough and started up the other side of a swell. The sound swept in again. The mosquito drone of another boat engine.
Panic crashed through him, sending his pulse into overdrive.
Music accompanied the engine noise and above it all, whoops of laughter. From the top of the swell, he could see the brightly lit deck of a small pleasure-craft. Whoever was on the boat obviously wasn’t trying to hide out here in the darkness. And they were bearing right down on him!
His boat sank into the sound-proofing swells of water.
Wide-eyed, he surveyed his tiny boat. The headless, handless, corpse lay draped across the benches. Blood was everywhere. And he had a saw in his hands! Any people that got close, couldn’t miss the details in the wash of this blasted full moon. And how much more so if the brightness of those party lights turned his way!
Though the corpse still had one foot halfway attached, and the uniform still on, he didn’t have time to complete the job. He would simply have to hope that the body didn’t wash ashore before the foot and clothes were devoured by fish and sea.
He chucked the saw into the waves and scrabbled to maintain his balance as another wave rocked his boat to the top of a crest.
“Yo! There’s a boat!” He heard a young male voice yell, before he once more sank out of sight.
He heaved the body over the side. Something clunked against the bucket but a thought seized him. Was the body going to float? He hesitated, breaths beating against his teeth. He couldn’t have been more relieved when it disappeared into the black waters without so much as even a burble. He snatched up the lid of the bucket and used it to sluice sheets of water over the boat, not caring that he was also soaking himself in the process.
Good enough, now he only had to get rid of the parts. He reached for the bucket. He would just toss—
“Yo! Whatcha doin’ out here this time o’ night?” A drunken voice called. “Don’tcha know it’s dangerous?” Hoots of laughter followed.
Gandry slammed the lid onto the five-gallon bucket and slung it over the side. It splashed into the water behind him as he lifted a friendly wave to the occupants of the other vessel. He thumbed a gesture over his shoulder. “Just dropping my crab pots!”
One of the boys pointed back in the direction they’d arrived from. “Ferry just left. You better clear this lane.”
“Yep!” Gandry waved. “I’m leaving now.” He started his engine and pulled away. He cursed under his breath. He certainly hoped the boss wasn’t going to ask him to do too many more jobs like that one.
Stress like that could take a few years off a man’s life.
In the dark cold waters of the Sound, the five-gallon bucket bobbed and swayed.
On the boat, the two boys looked at each other. “Doesn’t he know this is a stupid place to crab? The ferries will destroy his pots.”
The other boy shrugged and stepped behind the wheel. “Must be a newb.” He pushed the engine into gear. “Best get home or my dad won’t let me use the boat for our party this weekend.”
“Can’t have that,” the other boy said. “You man the helm. I’m going to trawl awhile.”
“You already caught your limit!”
“So! We ate ’em.” With surprising skill, considering his state of drunkenness, he flipped the net in a wide arc behind the boat. “Who’ll know if we catch more?”
Their laughter cov
ered the clunk of the bucket’s handle rapping against itself as it snagged in the net.
An hour later, drowsy from the effects of their inebriation, the boys swept into Friday Harbor.
“Whoa! Whoa! You’re gonna hit the dock!” One of them lurched for the controls and yanked the engine into reverse.
A backwash of water surged through the net, knocking one lucky fish and the bucket free.
“Idiot!” the boy slapped the driver on the back of his head.
“Sorry, man! I’m tired!”
The other boy chuckled. “How can you be tired? It’s freezing out here!”
A curse slipped free as the kid stepped from the wheel house. “You’re right. It was warm in there.” His thumb jabbed over his shoulder.
His friend nudged him toward the dock. “Go home and sleep it off. I’ll bring by your half of the fish in the morning. Your dad will be happy with the catch.”
In the shoals, the tide swirled the bucket into the current that curled around the northern promontory. It bobbed for several hundred feet along the shore, and then caught fast on a reef of coral as the tide swept out.
In a pine tree, an owl hooted a lonely cry into the night.
Chapter Five
Holden Parker felt the icy slicing wind blowing off the Salish Sea in the very marrow of his bones as he squatted on the edge of a San Juan Island promontory and studied the bright orange bucket swishing in the low-tide surf below.
Dawn had barely spread a pink tinge on the water.
Since he’d worked the swing shift tonight, he’d barely crawled into his bed when this call had dragged him out again. And he hadn’t even taken time to brew a cup of coffee.
In disgust, he tossed down the long branch he’d been using to try to snag the bucket closer. The water wasn’t deep here and the rocks were preventing the just-out-of-reach bucket from coming closer.
