Skull Wave (A Troy Bodean Tropical Thriller Book 5)

by David F. Berens

  “So,” he started as he drained his third cup. “Is this what you really look like?”

  Riley felt herself stiffen. It was indeed nothing at all like what she looked like in real life. She’d taken on the persona of an elf-princess in the game. In the real world of her mom’s apartment, she was a skinny thirteen-year-old girl with stringy, blond hair, pale blue eyes, and a very mild case of acne. She was on medicine for it and it had gotten better over the past year. But her confidence still took a hit with every bump that popped up.

  “No,” she said flatly.

  “Well, are you going to show me what you look like…outside?”

  “No.”

  “Aw, c’mon,” he pleaded. “I’ll bet you’re really pretty.”

  She thought about it for a minute. With a click of a button, she put up the avatar image that somewhat resembled her real face…only without the acne.

  “Wow,” he said. “Even better than I thought.”

  “Really?”

  “You’re really cute. How old are you?”

  Riley sighed again. This was where she became a little girl, instead of a warrior princess, in most gamer’s eyes. She thought for half a second about lying, what could it hurt? But then, she decided she liked this guy. Here goes nothing, she thought.

  “Thirteen,” she said. Then quickly added, “but I turn fourteen in six days.”

  “Nice.” he said. “I’m sixteen. Happy early birthday.”

  “Thanks.” She laughed as she said it.

  “So…,” he shrugged his shoulders. “Where are you from?”

  “Nags Head,” she said and then wondered if she’d said too much, stranger danger and all that jazz.

  “No shit?” He jumped up from the table they were sitting at in the game. “Me too!”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do I know you?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said. “I don’t recognize your face.”

  “What are you doing tonight?” he asked.

  Riley felt her voice shake and her cheeks redden. This was it, he was asking her on a date in real life. Her mind raced. What do I do now? Go out with a stranger? He seems pretty nice. And heck, he’s from Nags Head, so I’d be close by.

  “Nothing,” she replied flatly.

  “You wanna meet me over at Leviathan? It’s a sweet gaming—.”

  “Yeah, I know what it is. Let me check with my mom. Hang on.”

  Riley slipped the visor off her head and picked up her cell. She had several missed calls from her mom. Crap, that wasn’t good. She listened to the voicemail. Grounded for life.

  She started to dial her mom, but made the first bad decision she would make today. She put her visor back on. He was still there waiting for her.

  “Okay, I’ll meet you there. But I have to be back by dinner time.”

  “Sweet!”

  She leaned closer and pecked him on the cheek.

  “You’d better be a nicer boy than you are as an Orc.”

  He laughed out loud and said, “I am. Scout’s honor.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there in ten.”

  “Hey, wait,” he said as she started to sign off. “What’s your name?”

  “Riley, and yours?”

  “Barry.”

  “Nice to meet you, Barry.”

  “You too, Riley. See you in ten.”

  “Cool.”

  She slid the goggles off and ran into the bathroom. She grabbed some of her mom’s makeup and set to work trying to cover the few bumps she had on her chin. If she was going to meet this guy, she was going to put her best face forward. She couldn’t help but smile at her reflection. This day was going to be amazing.

  Barry slid his headset from his eyes. Looking around the trailer, he always felt a little sad. Bladehammer was a better world in so many ways, but at least he had found some excitement with Kim and Dana. And now he had a new fish on the hook, Riley. He’d gone forever without any action, but it looked like his luck might be changing.

  That’s when he remembered he’d lost his sweet new Dadao sword after the last two girls lost their heads. Shit, he thought as he scrounged around his mom’s trailer, no time to worry about getting a new one now. Maybe I can keep her for a while, until I can order one.

  “Now, that’s a plan,” he said out loud.

  He kicked aside an empty pizza box and found what he was looking for. He sniffed the black Metallica T-shirt to see if it was clean. It didn’t reek of fish. He took that as a good omen. He grabbed his mom’s keys from the hook by the door and jogged out to the beat up, fire-engine red, Chevrolet Chevette. It was all she’d left him, but it ran…most of the time. In five minutes, he was on his way to Leviathan.

  6

  Thai One On

  Troy eased the white pickup truck he’d borrowed from his closest inland neighbor around the corner and saw the woman still sitting on the sidewalk. She had a blonde pony-tail hanging down almost to her shoulders dripping with sweat, tan skin with red shoulders from too much sun, black running shorts and a black sports bra. He knew immediately this was a case of dehydration. He pulled over next to her, rolled down his window, and leaned out.

  “Meira?”

  “That’s me. Troy Bodean, I presume?”

  “The one and only. Hop on in and I’ll get you to a cool spot to rehydrate.”

  She pushed up on her knees and then slumped back to the ground.

  “Yeah. The only problem with that…is that I can’t stand up.”

  “Oh, dang, that’s right. Forgive me. Hold on a sec.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  He put the truck into park and hopped out. He ran around to her.

  “You mind if I pick you up?”

  “Sure, I, um—.”

  Before she could get the rest out, he’d tucked his arm under her legs and behind her back and picked her up. From the look of shock on her face, he could tell she was surprised he’d been able to lift her so easily. The heavy lifting at the fish company had been doin’ him some good. In fact, he thought he might be in the best shape of his post-Afghanistan life.

  He lifted her into the passenger’s seat and she winced.

  “Oops, sorry. Is it cramps?”

  “Yeah,” she groaned.

  “In the calves?”

  “And the quads. Just before you got here, I started feeling it in my toes too.”

  “You drink enough water?”

  “I do.”

  “Yeah. Trouble is on a breezy day, you don’t feel yourself losin’ all those fluids. We gotta get some sodium in ya. I know just what to do.”

  He jogged around to the driver’s side and jumped up into the truck.

  “I suppose I need to get to the hospital,” she said trying to control her breathing.

  “Nah,” he shrugged. “You ain’t in shock yet. Coulda been if I hadn’t come and got you. We’ll have you back to normal in a jiffy.”

  He eased into traffic and drove a couple of blocks to Cahoons Market and Cottage. She opened her mouth to say something, but he spoke before she could.

  “You just hang tight. I’ll be right back.”

  He left the car running and ran inside. Afghanistan had taught him a great deal including how to deal with mild sunstroke and dehydration. Nothing out where he was stationed but hot sun and sand and not much to drink that wasn’t infested with bacteria. He walked the aisles scanning the shelves for what he needed. Finally, he found it.

  He took it up to the register to pay, but not before grabbing a twelve pack of Coronas.

  “Looks like you’ve got an interesting night ahead of you,” the teenaged clerk said as she rung him up.

  “Yup.”

  He hurried out and found Meira with her head laid back and her eyes closed.

  “You doin’ okay?”

  “Yeah.” She groaned and opened her eyes slightly. “Beer? How’s that going to help?”

  Troy laughed. “That ain’t for you,
darlin’. That’s for me later on.”

  “Darlin’?”

  “Sorry, force of habit.”

  She smiled and he saw that she was an attractive young woman. Her eyes were an emerald green color, slightly bloodshot from the dehydration.

  “It’s okay. I like the southern gentlemanly charm of it.”

  “That’s me, a southern gentleman.”

  “Mmhmm. Anyway, what’d you get for me? These cramps are killing me.”

  Troy reached into the paper sack with the Cahoons logo sporting a goofy cartoon guy riding a surfboard with two bags of groceries. He pulled a jar of Claussen Pickles out. She was not sure what to make of Troy pulling the pickles out of the container and tossing them out on the ground.

  “What the heck?”

  “Don’t need the veggies. What you need is in the juice. Hope you like pickles.”

  She grimaced and said, “not really.”

  “No worries, at this point, you’re body needs it so bad, you’ll think it’s a fine wine.”

  “Now that I could go for right about now.”

  “Nope. Not until you get those cramps to let loose. After that, we’ll see.”

  She took the jar from his hands, pinched her nose, and took a big gulp. Her eyebrows raised and the hint of a smile curved her lips up as she drank.

  “Told ya, didn’t I?”

  She nodded vigorously as she drained half the juice in one long swig. She gasped as she took the jar from her mouth.

  “Oh, my gosh. It’s delicious.”

  “Not really. It’s just your body’s way of tellin’ you you’re doin’ right by it.”

  “Well, call me impressed, Mr. Bodean.”

  “Troy. Nobody calls me Mr. Bodean, ‘cept the IRS.”

  She smiled. Her eyes widened suddenly and she grabbed the back of her leg.

  “They’re gone. I cannot believe it. The cramps are gone!”

  “Yup. It’s magic, ain’t it?”

  “There is no chance I would’ve known that pickle juice could cure cramps.”

  “I had a pretty smart granddaddy. He taught me almost everything I know. Uncle Sam took care of the rest.”

  She took a few more sips of the pickle juice.

  “Do I have to drink it all?”

  “When it don’t taste good anymore, you’re done.”

  “I think I’m there.”

  He took the jar from her, screwed on the lid, and tucked it under the driver’s seat. She took a deep breath, undid her ponytail, brushed the sweat from her forehead, and pulled the hair back tight again. Dang, Troy thought, she ain’t good lookin’…she’s beautiful. She apparently read his thoughts and gave him an odd look.

  “What is it, Mr. Bode— I mean, Troy?”

  “Nothin’ at all. Just thinkin’ you’re a fine lookin’ woman, Mrs. Carr.”

  “It’s Miss. I’ve been divorced for more than ten years. He left when my daughter was just a little girl.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be, he was a shmuck.”

  “Well, that’s good then.”

  A moment of silence settled in between them. Troy clicked the radio on and found a classic rock station. He wondered when the hell all his music became classics.

  “I guess you’ll need to get home.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Which way?”

  “Turn out of here and go left.”

  “Roger that.”

  “If you’ll drop me at my place, give me a couple of hours to get cleaned up and check on my soon-to-be-in-big-trouble daughter, we can meet somewhere later and discuss why you called me in the first place. Sound good?”

  “Oh, um, yes. That’d be great. I got a short shift at work. I’m off at seven. Pick you up at eight-ish?”

  “Perfect. You like Thai food?”

  “Not sure if I know that or not.”

  “Great. Thai it is. I always like introducing people to how amazing it is.”

  He touched the brim of his cowboy hat and turned left.

  I think I like where this is goin’.

  Troy thought of the Austin Fish Company as a fantastic place to grab fresh seafood for either preparing at home or eating on site. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d plopped himself down on the yellow picnic table underneath the fiberglass great white shark on the roof and chowed down on the finest shrimp this side of Maine. He preferred eating outside to keep the heavy fish smell in the back from affecting the taste of his food. It could be pretty rank back there and he liked the fresh air and ocean breeze anyway. Today however, he didn’t choose to eat anything as Meira had asked him out to dinner later. He wasn’t sure about Thai food, but, eh, why not? Anything was worth a few more minutes with her.

  He found himself whistling as he worked and realized he felt better already…the double murder of Kim and Dana nearly pushed to the back of his mind. That was until Trixie Cameron came through the doors of the Austin. She was dressed in black, but not exactly a mourning outfit. It was a black tank top that didn’t quite cover her belly button and black jeans. Her hair was almost as dark as her clothing and Troy wondered if it was dyed. Trixie was Dana’s mother. She’d been sixteen when she had her daughter and she liked to say that folks around town often asked if they were sisters. Troy had been around enough to know that no one around town actually asked that.

  She pulled her sunglasses off her face as she entered and walked straight up to Troy. Dangit, he thought, this can’t be good. He braced himself for what could only be a rough confrontation. Trixie walked straight up to him and Troy put his hands up to surrender. He started to say he was really sorry, but before he could open his mouth, she wrapped her arms around him, laid her head on his chest and started sobbing.

  “It’s awful, isn’t it, Troy? My poor baby girl, gone too soon.”

  Stunned, he patted her back. “Yes, ma’am. It’s a dang shame.”

  She lifted her head and looked up into his eyes.

  “I know they thought you done it, but I know better, Troy. They told me down at the police station that you wasn’t even close to ‘em when they was killed.”

  “That’s right, Trixie. I wasn’t.”

  “They told me they’s workin’ on a few leads, but I know they don’t got shit.”

  Troy wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he just kept his mouth shut. After a few minutes, she let go of him, put her hand on his shoulder, and smiled at him.

  “You’re so sweet to have been hangin’ out with my Dana. She was so insecure and just needed friends. You and Kim were all she had.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Now, if you don’t mind, I need something from you.”

  Troy took a step backward, unsure where this was going.

  “Well, now…ummm—.”

  “Five pounds of shrimp,” she said and pulled out her wallet.

  “Oh, uh, yeah, sure,” Troy felt relief ease into his mind. “What kind do you need?”

  “Just gimme the cheap stuff,” she said. “It’s for a memorial I’m hosting tonight at my house.”

  “Ah, okay, gotcha.”

  “In fact,” she winked at him, “why don’t you drop by for a bit.”

  “As much as I’d like to, I—.”

  “Nope. I won’t take no for an answer.” She took a pen from a cup on the counter and pulled out a napkin. “I live out at the Decharmarnel RV Park.”

  She scribbled the address and her number on the napkin and tucked it into his shirt pocket.

  “We’ll be goin’ all night, so just drop by when you can.”

  “Okay, but—.”

  “Good, it’s settled. See you tonight. And bring the shrimp, won’t you?”

  “Sure.”

  Troy watched as she pranced out of the store and smacked his forehead.

  “Looks like you got a date, Troy.” Fred, the manager on duty, laughed as he said it.

  “Not hardly. Least, not with her.”

  “Ohhhh,” Fred wiped
his hands with a dirty rag. “Do tell.”

  “I’ll tell you ‘bout it tomorrow…unless I call in sick…and then you’ll know how it went anyhow.”

  “You dawg!”

  Troy smiled and headed back to the walk-in cooler. He was sure it smelled worse today than it ever had before…but maybe it was just his imagination. He pulled a couple of big bags of jumbo shrimp out and set about making Trixie’s order. I’ll meet up with Meira for dinner and grab these to drop ‘em off after, he thought, unless… But the more he tried to puzzle a way out of the dead girl’s memorial, he couldn’t think of anything. He thought he might text Barry and ask if he could come in and help out for an hour to help him put the big order together. He didn’t get an answer.

  Crap, no way out of this little predicament. Maybe Meira will ride out there with me, could be important to the case.

  He dumped the shrimp onto the prep table and started whistling again.

  Riley Carr stared at the boy across the table from her. He was supposed to be cute. He had looked cute in his online pic. At least, that’s what she had imagined when he invited her to come out to the store called Leviathan. Apparently, people weren’t always what they appeared to be online…even when they sent you a photo. She could tell he had used some kind of filter to make himself appear…well, smoother…than he did in real life. She couldn’t complain much. She had done much the same to her own photograph. But he paid attention to her, which was more than most of the boys at school could muster.

  His hair was a little brighter red, his cheeks were a little more freckled, and his nose was a little more pig-shaped than his photo had shown. But his eyes were exactly the same, and they were staring into hers right now.

  The table they sat at was littered with gaming magazines he’d bought for them and they were leafing through them discussing the newest and upcoming innovations in virtual reality games.

  When they had exhausted all of the small talk they could come up with, he had stunned her by asking her if she wanted to come over to his house.