Skull Wave (A Troy Bodean Tropical Thriller Book 5)

by David F. Berens

  She gently pulled the edges of the screen inward and was careful not to drop it. If it went clattering across the roof, she would just say she was getting some air. She laid the screen aside and grabbed her backpack. A cool wind blew in across her face and she wondered if she’d need a jacket. Nah, they’d be inside and hopefully sharing warmth. She felt the smile creep onto her face.

  Easing herself out onto the roof, she sat on her butt and scooted to the edge of the roof. Her plan was to swing down onto the porch. On the side where the hammock hung, then she would ease down and step onto the rail. Easy-peasy. She inched her way closer to the edge of the roof and realized she’d forgotten about the gutter. She’d have to somehow climb over it without grabbing hold and ripping it off the eaves. Surveying the situation, she found that she could loop her backpack onto an empty plant hook near the back of the porch, ease over and swing down without putting too much weight on the gutter. At least, that had been the plan.

  Hooking the backpack was the easy part. Getting the nerve to swing out and over the edge…that was the part she wasn’t looking forward to. And from this vantage point, the ground looked to be a long way down. She took a deep breath, steeled herself for the swing—and the likely fall after—and rolled over the edge of the roof. As she did, she heard her mother’s voice call from inside.

  “Don’t you fall asleep on me out there, Troy.”

  “This hammock is a thing of beauty,” she heard the man’s voice and it was immediately underneath her.

  Her mother’s client, or boyfriend, or whatever he was, was obviously lying in the hammock directly underneath her.

  Crap, Riley thought in panic. There was no way to stop her swing now. Her legs went dangling over the edge of the eave, but her upper body was still laid out on the roof. She was half on and half off. She controlled her breathing and hoped the man wouldn’t look in her direction. If he did, he surely see her legs.

  “I believe I could just stay here all night,” the man said.

  No, no, no, Riley thought, go inside for chrissakes.

  She heard her mother laugh and the sound of clinking glass inside.

  “Last two beers,” she called and her voice got closer.

  The squeak of the screen door opening sent panic up into Riley’s spine. Her grip slipped and she scooted roughly down on the roof. The shingles grabbed her shirt and tugged it up. Her stomach was exposed now, but protected from the gritty surface as the shirt rolled upward. The gutter was now tucked under her arms and her bellybutton and legs hung down swinging in the air. Sweat began to form on her face and her hands were getting slick. She knew what was coming. There would be no climbing back up…she was going to fall. Her only hope would be to swing all the way over and land on the porch rail. Her mom and the man would see her, but that’d be preferable to falling.

  “Come on in,” she heard her mother say. “I need the light to make some notes about this whole sword thing.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the man replied. “I’m on my way.”

  He groaned and Riley heard the sound of his feet thumping onto the porch and the hammock squeaking as it swung back and forth. Her grip slipped and she slid. In the worst possible scenario, she felt the edge of her bra catch on the gutter. Panic flooded her mind. Her shirt was now rolled up to her elbows and neck and the gutter had grabbed the only remaining fabric on her upper body. She felt the cool air on her chest as the only thing between her and the night lifted away. Her legs kicked wildly as she tried to stop her fall.

  The screen door opened and then banged shut just as she lost her grip. Her shirt and bra ripped off and stayed behind on the roof. Her legs caught the edge of the rail and her hands grabbed the hooked backpack. She swung down onto the porch and ducked behind the not-so-perfect-cover of the hammock. But she was alone on the porch.

  She’d done it. She’d managed not to fall to her death or get caught. But there was one big problem. She was now topless. The remnants of her T-shirt and bra fluttered in the breeze dangling from the gutter. She squeezed the backpack to her chest, essentially wearing it backward, to cover herself.

  “Shit,” she mouthed as she huddled to catch her breath.

  Her first thought was to try and climb back up to get her clothes, but she could see the shredded bra and changed her mind. She glanced out to the driveway and saw the man’s truck sitting there. Maybe he’s got a spare shirt or a jacket or something in there, she thought. When she was sure her mom and the man had gone inside for good, she crept under the hammock and crawled down the steps to the ground. She darted across the scraggy lawn and gently pulled the handle on the passenger’s side of the pickup. It was locked. She groaned and ran around the truck to the driver’s side. It was locked too. So much for that plan.

  She moved to the back of the truck and looked in the bed. There was a knotted grocery bag with what looked like clothing inside. Maybe a lucky break. She tore into the bag and found a T-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts. As soon as she got them out, the smell hit her. The clothes smelled like fish guts and had a fair amount of unrecognizable goop on them. She took a deep breath.

  “Better than being naked,” she muttered as she pulled the shirt over her head.

  The smell was disgusting, but her panic at being exposed began to settle. She’d just borrow one from Barry when she got to his place. She walked to the road, oriented herself, and opened the GPS on her phone. He’d sent her the address earlier and she clicked, GO.

  -On my way.

  -Finally LOL.

  -See u in ten.

  -Ok princess.

  Riley tucked her phone into her backpack and started walking. She felt the bounce come back to her steps as she walked. The exhilaration of sneaking out was intoxicating…so much so that she almost didn’t notice the raindrops begin to dot her face.

  Troy spent the next hour poring over the information Meira had gotten from Darla down at the police station. Meira was lounging on the couch and he saw her exaggerate a yawn. He looked up at her.

  “Sleepy?”

  “Yeah.” Her eyes were a little glazed over from the beer and exhaustion. “Probably head to bed soon.”

  “Want to make that trip out to the boat? I’ll be good,” he said and raised three fingers in the air. “Scout’s honor.”

  She laughed. “I wish I could. It’s a school night. Gotta be here to get Riley up and going.”

  “I’ll have you back before that. Just long enough to see the sunrise.”

  “Now, Mister Bodean—.”

  “Troy,” he interrupted her.

  “Okay, Troy. I’ll have you know, I’m a grown woman and I can take care of myself against any Boy Scout.”

  “I think I’ve got some champagne.”

  Meira took a deep breath and considered this.

  “Let me check in on Riley and grab some things. You’ll have me back here by seven?”

  “Before seven.”

  She smiled and winked at him. “Okay then, It’s a date…a deal…I meant to say it’s a deal.”

  Her cheeks reddened and made her even more beautiful than she had been before.

  “I’ll be in the truck,” he said.

  Meira tapped lightly on her daughter’s door. The butterflies in her stomach made her giddy with excitement. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been alone with a man. Riley didn’t say anything. Meira turned the knob as slowly and quietly as she could and peeked around the door. Her daughter (or what she thought was her daughter) was lying in bed, snuggled up under the quilt her grandmother had made.

  “I love you, baby girl,” she whispered into the room.

  She closed the door and tiptoed back to her bedroom. She grabbed a duffel bag and tossed in an old Clemson Football T-shirt, some pink boxer shorts, and her toothbrush. She locked the front door, checked it three times, and then jogged out to the pickup truck. Troy was sitting inside with the motor running. She slid into the passenger’s side and was pleased to find that he had the radio playing an oldi
e’s station. Marvin Gaye sang them out of the driveway and as they pulled onto the road, Troy leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. Her heart fluttered and she leaned her head on his shoulder as he drove.

  She leaned on the same shoulder after he built the small fire on the beach and sat down next to her. He wrapped a blanket he’d gotten from the boat around her shoulders. He emptied the remaining contents of a bottle of Pinot Noir into two red Solo cups and handed one to her. He clinked it against her and raised it up.

  “To new friends.” He smiled as he said it.

  “Friends, eh?” she asked with a grin.

  It was the first time all night that she’d seen him look flustered. But as they sat and watched the waves roll into the shore, her mind began to travel back to the details of the gruesome murder of those two girls. They worked with Troy and by all accounts, had been out drinking with him the night of their deaths. She shivered as she remembered that he’d found the sword that might’ve killed the girls, but didn’t turn it in to the police. So, this man she was leaning against had been in direct contact with the victims and likely, the murder weapon.

  Her pulse quickened as she realized he might be luring her out to be his next victim. She tried to formulate a way to leave…to go home…to get away from him.

  “Ya know,” she tried to sound as casual as she could, “I really should just get back home.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Somethin’ I said?”

  She opened her mouth to answer, and then closed it. No, it couldn’t be him. The evidence had given him an alibi…right?

  “Troy…”

  “Yes, Meira?”

  “Did you kill those girls?”

  His face softened into a grin and he chuckled.

  “Is that what’s got you all tightened up and shakin’ like a leaf all the sudden?”

  She shrugged. He put his hand under her chin and lifted her eyes toward his.

  “I had nothin’ to do with those girls gettin’ killed.”

  She took in a deep breath.

  “Okay. I trust you. I don’t know why…but I trust you.”

  He grinned. “Must be the hat.”

  She laughed out loud. “Must be.”

  Leaning her head back onto his shoulder, she felt herself relax. She closed her eyes and hoped that he was as honest as the Boy Scout he claimed to be. She slipped into sleep as the first few drops of rain reached them.

  13

  Oops, I Did It Again

  Barry stood out in front of his trailer, shirtless, arms crossed, listening to the old hag of a woman from down the street yelling like a banshee. A storm was brewing out to the west and apparently had thrown the trailer park into darkness. Barry had been tromping around in his game whacking the heads off of villagers for a bit, but then the power had gone off.

  It happened frequently enough that he wasn’t surprised, but he felt sure that Riley would prefer that there be lights on when she got here. He felt the rain start on his chest and watched as the rest of the bizarre menagerie of trailer park inhabitants began exiting their rolling tin cans like a bunch of ants. Old lady Witherington, the Decharmarnel landlord, stood at the end of the street waving her hands and shouting at the complainers.

  “And just what the hell should I do? Run down to the electric department and turn it back on? You people kill me. You wanna stand out in the rain, go for it. But I’m goin’ back inside and waitin’ for the lights to come on.”

  Barry smirked as the residents began to slowly trickle back to their homes, grumbling all the way. They were a picky lot of people who complained about everything. Some had even started noticing the smell coming out of his deep freezer.

  A while back, the Fish Company had upgraded their coolers and had sold him the massive unit at a ridiculously low price. Mostly, he used it to store food he casually stole from the place when he worked late by himself. A few filets here and a few pounds of shrimp there and nobody noticed a thing.

  But the thing was faulty at best and sometimes decided to quit...for no reason. This time, the storm that had rolled through a couple of days ago had knocked it out for good. Barry had done his best to keep it closed and hopefully seal in the lingering cold. Yesterday, the smell had started. Most people didn’t mind a smell in the Outer Bank. Hell, almost everything stinks in low tide. And just about everywhere you could possibly go smelled like fish, or rotten fish. So, to get someone’s attention, an odor had to be particularly bad.

  The odor coming from his freezer happened to be the smell of decaying flesh…human flesh. His original plan had been to dump their bodies in the water to let the fish have them, but then the cops started poking around and he was afraid someone would see him. And it probably hadn’t been the best idea to put their heads in Troy’s lobster cage…but it would’ve been hilarious to see that asshole’s face when he pulled them up. And he was pretty sure the cops would eventually pin the crime on the dude. He was a drifter at best and was messin’ up Barry’s good gig at Austin’s. It was just after Troy came on the scene that they reduced his hours and he’d had to start cleaning fish down at the pier.

  A rattling knock on his RV door, insistent and loud, shook him out of his thoughts.

  “I’m coming, Riley. Hang on a sec.”

  He hopped over to the door and jerked it open. It was not Riley and he was instantly pissed off.

  “What the hell do you want?”

  It was his closest neighbor, a short, stubby little old guy with white hair and splotchy skin.

  “I know it’s coming from your place, ya little bastard.” The old man pointed a crooked, knobby finger at Barry. “It’s getting worse and I’m telling you, ya better do something about it or I’ll sick the old bat on you.”

  “Screw off, old man. I don’t know what it is.”

  “It’s comin’ from that heap of junk you call a freezer out back of your rig.”

  “Shut the hell up. And get off my property.”

  Technically speaking, there weren’t real lots, but there were imaginary lines of ownership that kept the residents separated…to a degree.

  “One day. Ya got one day to get the rotten shit in the cooler gone. Or I’m goin’ to—.”

  Barry slammed the door in the old man’s face. Damn Geezer, he thought. But the man was right. He’d have to do something about it soon, or it would get worse. And then people would start poking around and someone would find out what was in the freezer.

  He plopped down on the couch. Riley should’ve gotten here by now. He pulled out his phone and texted her.

  -Where u at?

  He waited, but she didn’t reply. With the power out, he had no TV, no internet, no game, no light, no nothing.

  “This blows,” he muttered to the darkness of his trailer.

  He tapped out another message to Riley.

  -Bitch you better be close.

  But he deleted it and never sent it. Didn’t want to scare her off. He got up and poked around in the kitchen for a cigarette and found a half-smoked Winston. Might’ve been left over from when his mom lived here. Bitch. He opened a drawer and found a lighter.

  The rain was heavier now as he stood by the screen door, blowing smoke out into the night. He didn’t much care about smoking inside, but he didn’t want Riley to be put off by the smell. Luckily, it seemed like the stronger rain was dampening the foul odor coming from the freezer.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket and he tapped the screen. He expected to see a message from Riley, but it wasn’t. It was a call from his boss at the Austin Seafood Company. He let it go to voicemail. After it dinged to let him know the message was complete, he dialed in and listened.

  “Hey, Barry-boy, this is Oscar just checking to make sure you turned the backup generator on before you left. Power’s out over at our place, I’m sure the restaurant is dark too.”

  Oh, shit, Barry thought, forgot to do that.

  “Yeah. Anyway,” the message continued, “just wanted to make sure because we got in that s
hipment of crab meat for the big order due on Tuesday.”

  Barry’s mind raced. The meat would be spoiled for sure if he didn’t get that generator on. Shit, shit, shit. Gotta run over there and turn it on or they’ll fire me for sure.

  He opened the text he sent to Riley and added a new message.

  -Going to work for something real quick. If you get here before I’m back, just come on in, door’s open.

  He tucked his phone into his pocket and ran out the door into the rain. A few minutes later, he was unlocking the front door of the restaurant and running into the back. He jerked the cooler open and was hit by warm air…too warm.

  “Dammit, no!”

  The massive tubs of crabmeat reeked. They had definitely spoiled. He dug his hand down into the tub and felt that the center was still frozen. He scooped out the bad meat and tossed it into a nearby trashcan. When he was satisfied that he had saved as much as he could, he weighed it. Four pounds.

  “Aw hell,” he smacked his hand on the stainless steel counter.

  The order due this weekend called for thirty pounds of meat and he had managed to save four. There was no way to stretch the leftovers into a decent chowder. It would be all sauce with no meat. He slid down onto the floor and propped his back up against the table. This was bad.

  With his head in his hands, he tried to figure out who he could call to get twenty-five pounds of crabmeat at this time of night…on a Sunday. And he doubted he could get enough in tomorrow either.

  “Nobody,” he decided.

  Well, this is it, he thought. I’m going to be fired. Troy will get all my hours, that shithead. Ugh, I hate that guy.

  He stood slowly and went back out into the rain to fire up the generator dragging the trashcan of rotten meat as he went. At least he would save what he could of the remaining frozen stuff. The generator fired up easily and the lights came on inside the store. If only he’d remembered to turn it on, none of this would’ve happened.