Pressing her ear up against it, she could hear the sound of music playing low and a man singing along…poorly. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and jerked open the door. At the same time, she screamed and raised the racket above her head. A man standing over the tiny stove fell back, stumbling over a nearby chair. He had on a pair of khaki shorts, no shirt, and a straw cowboy hat. Things began to come back into focus.
“Holy dangit!” the man said as he picked himself up.
In one hand he held a spatula, in the other, a fork. Both of them were raised in a defensive gesture. Meira realized she still had the racket raised over her head.
“I take it you don’t like pancakes,” Troy said.
“Huh? Oh, uh, sorry,” Meira lowered her tennis racket of death. “I forgot we came out to your boat. My memory is kinda hazy from last night.”
“Well, you probably don’t remember it ‘cause you were passed out. I was gonna take you home, but…I couldn’t…find…the…”
His voice trailed off and Meira saw a strange, hollow stare take over his face.
“Troy? You okay?”
He shook his head and his broad smile came back.
“Yeah. Yeah. I’m good. I hope yer hungry, cause I made a mess of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and mimosas.”
She felt a throbbing suddenly pop up in her head, now that the rush of adrenaline was easing. Her stomach rolled and she dropped the racket.
“Mimosa,” she groaned and held out a hand.
Troy took two red solo cups off the counter, handed her one, and they clinked them together. She took a sip and a new panic jumped at her.
“Riley! It’s a school day. I have to get home to get her to school. What time is it? I need to get in to shore!”
“Calm down, Meira,” Troy said. “It’s half-past nine. She’s probably at school already. If she ain’t, she can play hooky for one day. It’ll be okay.”
“Troy, this is my thirteen-year-old daughter we’re talking about here. I have trouble getting her to school on normal mornings. She’ll probably be a zombie until noon.”
“Well, there ya go. She’ll likely be hangin’ out doin’ kid stuff until you get home.”
“Phone. I need to call her. Now!”
“Ain’t no service out here, but I do have a CB to talk to the shore.”
“Good. Where is it?”
Troy pointed up to the deck. “Upstairs.”
Meira walked to a set of stairs and hopped up them two at a time. She spotted the receiver near the wheel and yanked it out of its holder. She clicked the dial to a familiar law enforcement channel.
“Nags Head P.D. anyone listening?”
For a second, nobody answered.
“Nags Head police, anyone on the line?”
What the hell? She thought, nobody on the radio? The line crackled and a voice broke through the static.
“This is Officer Duffy of the NHPD. Who is this?”
“Duffy, this is Meira Carr.”
“Hello, Meira. Um…what can I do for you?”
“I’m on a boat with no reception, need to get in touch with my daughter.”
“Wouldn’t she be in school right now?”
Meira sighed. Really, Duffy, you’re judging me right now? She clicked the handle.
“Yes, she would be. But I spent the night…away…unexpectedly and I don’t have cell service to check in on her. Can you call her or something, please?”
“I suppose I can do that. What’s the number?”
Meira rattled off Riley’s cell number.
“Gimme a second. I’ll call her right now.”
A minute passed and Duffy came back on the line. “No answer. Tried it twice. Went straight to voicemail both times, but that would be right if she’s in school. They make ‘em turn off their phones when they get in class.”
Meira took a deep breath. “True, but could you maybe just do a quick drive by the school to see if she’s there? I know it’s a lot to ask, but…”
“Where does she go? I’m a ways out, but I’ll get by there as soon as I can.”
“First Flight Middle,” Meira said.
“Got it. I’m down by Sandspur. Probably take me a few minutes.”
“Oh, wait, you’re down by my place. Can you check there?”
“Meira, you know that this is not part of my regular duties, right?”
“Please, Duffy. I owe you one big-time.”
Silence.
“Duffy?”
“Okay, okay. Give me the address.”
Meira recited it as Troy appeared at the top of the stairs.
“I’ll radio when I get there.”
“Thanks, Duffy,” she said and turned to face Troy.
“You get a hold of her?” he asked and then turned his head away quickly.
“Well, I got Officer Duffy to run out and check on her. Her phone was off. She’s probably in school…thank goodness.”
Troy sniffed, but didn’t look at her.
“Troy? What’s the deal?”
“You, uh…you lost somethin’ there.”
She looked down and realized that she’d forgotten completely about holding her sheet up. She was completely naked.
“Oh, shit, sorry.” She bent down and grabbed the ruffled sheet at her feet.
“Not a problem,” he said and she could see a smile forming under his dark beard.
“How much did you see?”
“I’ll never tell.”
“Well, I guess you saw more than that last night when you undressed me.” She laughed as she said it.
“To tell ya the truth, I don’t remember much at all.”
“Do you remember what you did with my clothes?”
He turned to look at her with a sheepish grin on his face. “Um…nope.”
Meira looked around, scanning the open water around them. The sun was warm and she was starting to feel normal again thanks to the mimosa and Officer Duffy checking on Riley. She let the sheet fall loosely over her shoulder, barely covering her.
“I suppose I don’t really need clothes out here anyway…right?”
The sheet fell the rest of the way off and she saw Troy’s eyes widen. He blushed…a cute reaction for someone his age. God, how old is he? She thought, but then, why do I care?
“How about another mimosa?” She winked as she asked. “And I’ll look around for my clothes.”
“Comin’ right up,” he returned the wink and dashed down the stairs.
Feels like it’s going to be a great day, Meira thought.
15
All My Bags Are Packed
Karl Duffy had been at the Nags Head Police Department for five years and hadn’t made any house calls in all his time on the force. But this one was easy. It was on his way back to town and he’d pass by the Carr house anyway. He eased his cruiser into the driveway of the cottage and found it charming…charming enough to make him wonder if he had chosen the wrong career. How hard could it be to work as a private investigator? From the looks of her place, it looked like Meira was pulling in some serious cash.
“Maybe she needs a partner,” Duffy muttered as he opened his door and stepped onto the flagstone driveway.
It all looked quiet, but he touched his pistol – a reflex from his awareness training. Make sure you have your piece and make sure someone knows you’re here. He glanced down at the radio and wondered if he should call his location in to the station.
Nah, he thought as he closed his door. Won’t be more than a minute anyways. Knock, wait, and leave. That should be about it.
He walked up the steps to the porch and saw the hammock swaying back and forth to his right. A black cat was curled into a ball in the middle of it. When it saw him, it jumped up and scrambled off the porch. Probably a stray, he sniffed. Beside the hammock sat a table with three empty Corona bottles and an almost completely melted candle. The window behind the hammock was closed, but the curtains were pulled back. He walked over and peeked inside.
&nbs
p; The room looked like a sitting room or an office with a white wicker chaise and wicker rocking chair. The hardwood floors were vintage and a multi-color braided rug covered the middle of the room. To the left climbed wall-to-wall shelves with books and magazines piled on sagging shelves. An adequate desk with a laptop and an antique brass lamp with a Tiffany shade took up the space on the opposite wall under another small window.
Nothing doing in there. He shrugged his shoulders as he walked to the window on the opposite side. This room was obviously the living room. It had a tasteful futon with a floral cover for a couch and an older, but nice-looking leather recliner. The hardwoods here looked the same as the office and had a similar braided rug. A decent sized flat screen TV perched on a glass-topped stand across from the futon. A matching glass coffee table held four more empty beer bottles. The far wall had two white, French doors swung open to reveal the kitchen beyond.
Best he could tell, there were no lights on and nobody was home. But due diligence being his M.O., he knocked on the front door. Nothing. Yup, he thought, nobody here. Riley’s gone to school.
He opened his mouth to call out her name as he knocked again a little harder. But he didn’t say anything as the door swung open and his hand reflexively jerked down to his holster. He didn’t draw the gun, but he unsnapped it for easy access.
The door lazily drifted back until it was wide open. Still no sound from inside. Wait…is that a radio playing? Okay, Duffy, he thought as his pulse began to speed up, get a hold of yourself. Kid’s not used to leaving home by herself. She probably ran out and forgot to lock the door.
He took a step into the foyer and could easily see into the office on his right and the living room to his left. Stairs led up in front of him and a hallway passed them on the left toward the back of the house.
“Riley?” he called.
He circled through the rooms on the first floor and found each room was empty.
Clear, he thought as he walked back to the stairs. He almost called for backup, but decided against it. If he made the call on an empty house, he’d be the laughing stock at the department. Instead, he eased up the stairs that creaked loudly with every step. Stealth was not an option.
“Riley?” he projected his voice up to the next level of the house. “It’s Officer Duffy with the NHPD. Are you here?”
As he topped the stairs, he pondered what a ridiculous question that was…there was only one possible answer to the question. If she wasn’t here, she couldn’t say no. Nobody here but us chickens, he heard the punch line to some old joke in his head.
The second level appeared to be two bedrooms and a bathroom. He checked the first room to the left and found it decidedly adult—Meira’s bedroom. It had a queen size bed, a white wicker headboard and matching dresser. A vintage bedside table held a similar lamp to the one he’d seen in the office. He knelt, pulled up the bed skirt and peeked underneath. Nothing but a couple of long, flat plastic tubs with sweaters crammed inside.
He stepped over to the bathroom and found a claw foot tub, pedestal sink, toilet, tastefully tiled floor, and a cabinet above the sink overflowing with all manner of women’s beauty products. He touched the curling iron hanging from the door of the cabinet and found it cold. Not likely it would still be warm from Riley using it this morning, but he checked anyway.
The last door made him nervous. It was closed, but ajar. He could see light coming through the crack and took a deep breath. He swung it open quickly and ducked down.
“Freeze!” he yelled and suddenly realized that he’d drawn his gun.
Nothing. The tinny sound of a radio playing on her bedside table. He walked over and tapped the snooze button.
Now the room was empty and quiet, so he shook his head and holstered his pistol. The twin bed’s patchwork quilt was thrown over two pillows and for a second he wondered if Riley was still sleeping. But he pulled it back and realized that she’d just thrown the cover over her bed in a quick teenaged attempt at making it. Everything looked normal: her desk, the dresser, and the clothes all over the floor. Again, he checked and found nothing under the bed. He was about to walk out when he heard the whooshing sound of a car going down the street.
He noticed that the window was cracked open slightly and the screen was out, propped up on the porch roof against the side of the house. That’s odd, he thought as he pulled the window down all the way and turned the latch. He shrugged and took another look around, confirming that Riley’s backpack was not here.
He closed and pop-locked the front door on his way out and slid into his cruiser. He picked up the radio and clicked over to the channel he’d given to Meira.
“Hey, Meira, this is Officer Duffy, you there?”
“Yes. Yes. I’m here. Did you find her?”
“I’m sitting in front of your house right now. She’s not here and I don’t see any signs of distress. Everything looks A-OK and I don’t see her backpack either. I’m pretty sure she got herself up and went to school.”
A few seconds of silence and then her voice came back.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, Duffy, but can you run by there and check? I just…I need to know she’s okay.”
He glared at the radio. “I suppose I can do that.”
“Oh, God, thank you so much. I owe you big time.”
“Maybe you can invite me to your next party,” he shook his head.
“Party? Huh?”
“Yeah. Beer bottles all over the porch. Beer bottles inside. Looks like you had a good time.”
“Oh, ah, yeah. Um…no party, just a couple of friends having a beer.”
“Right. I’ll call you back when I get to the school.”
“Thanks, Duffy.”
He clicked back over to the police band and backed out of the driveway. As he pulled back on the street, he glanced up where he’d seen Riley’s open window and noticed a T-shirt and bra hanging from the gutter on that side.
“Ha, right. No party indeed.”
Troy watched Meira as she laid the CB receiver down. She sighed and looked out at the water, her gaze unfocused. After a second, she stood up and turned to Troy.
“Take me in, please. I need to go check on my baby.”
Troy didn’t say anything, just nodded. He stood and walked toward the back of the boat where the smaller dingy was tied up.
“No, wait,” she said. “Let’s give Duffy a few minutes. It’s not like I can get there faster than he can.”
“You sure, darlin’? I don’t mind.”
Meira took a deep breath. “Yes, yes. It’s fine. I’m sure it’s just my imagination running overtime with all this craziness with the girls’ murders and beheadings and all. I’m fine. Let’s just wait a bit. If need be, you can take me in.”
“Deal.”
After a second, he said, “How ‘bout this? Lemme take you out a bit and we’ll throw a couple lines in. Fishin’ always takes my mind off any troubles I’m havin’.”
Meira wrinkled her nose. “Eww, fishing? Not really my thing.”
“Hmm,” Troy scratched his beard. “How ‘bout I do the fishin’ and you do the sunnin’?”
“Well,” she said as she arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t really bring anything to wear for sunbathing.”
He smiled his best dimple-heavy smile and said, “That won’t bother me none, darlin’.”
“My, oh, my, Mr. Bodean,” she pretended to fan herself. “Is it getting hot out here, or is it just me?”
“We won’t go far. I’ll bet Duffy’s at the school by now. C’mon, it’ll do ya good. Seriously.”
Meira nodded. “You’re right. Let’s go do some fishing and sunning. But don’t get excited, mister. I’m keeping this shirt on!”
Troy laughed and walked back to the anchor. He pulled it loose from the back of the Island Cutter and tied it onto the dingy. That way it would hold his spot. He jogged back up to the captain’s chair and found Meira rolling up the bottom of her tank top and tying it in a knot. She glanced up a
t him.
“Don’t think I can’t tell what you’re looking at behind those sunglasses, sir. You keep your eyes up here.” She jokingly pointed at her eyes.
He pushed his hat back on his head and took off the RayBans he was wearing. He let them drop to hang on his chest by the orange Croakies he wore around his neck.
“How ‘bout that? Now you won’t have to guess what I’m starin’ at.”
She opened her mouth as if to say something then stopped. He watched as a flush of red rushed to her cheeks.
“You are a charmer, aren’t you, Mr. Bodean.”
“The name’s Troy…ma’am.”
“Well, then,” she leaned over and pecked him on the cheek, “you are a charmer, aren’t you…Troy?”
“Yup.”
Officer Duffy pulled into the first staff parking space outside the First Flight Middle School and pulled his sun visor down. Looking into the mirror, he licked his thumb and forefinger and ran them over his eyebrows to smooth them down. He didn’t get to come out to the school often, but when he did, he always got a little excited to see the cute receptionist they’d hired last year. Gabby Delarfino was a dark-haired girl from Ecuador with the sexiest accent. Duffy hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to ask her out, but he planned to as soon as the time was right.
He opened the car door and stood looking into his window, checking his uniform in the reflection. He tucked his shirt in as tight as he could to minimize the bulge of his belly hanging over his belt. When he was satisfied that he looked as good as possible, he strode toward the front of the building doing his best John Wayne swagger.
He punched the buzzer on the door and leaned toward the window so Gabby could see him. When she did, she smiled and buzzed him in.
“Hello Meester Duffy,” she said with a thick accent. “So, good to see you. What brings you to the school today?”
Skull Wave (A Troy Bodean Tropical Thriller Book 5) Page 11
