Still Waters

by David Banner

  Such news was probably the last thing Ryan expected to hear. He’d never considered the possibility of Chief Evans leaving. The man loved his job, he loved the lowcountry and he loved protecting it. It seemed things were changing for both of them and in very similar ways.

  “Where will you go? Ryan asked.

  “Oh,” the large lumbering man shook his head. “I ain’t going nowhere. Charleston is where I was born and it’s where I’ll die. But I’ve served this land and this badge for a long time now, so long that I probably ain’t got much time left. I want the chance to take it easy while I still can.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It’s why I’d hoped you changed your mind.” The chief removed his badge and placed it on the desk. “I was gonna ask you to take my place.”

  Ryan stood quiet and still as he waited for the words to sink in. Being a detective came almost naturally to the man. He enjoyed cold cases, he enjoyed finding pieces of a puzzle that others couldn’t and using them to build a picture.

  Being a chief came with responsibility and duties he’d never pictured for himself. He lifted his head, his eyes scanning the walls until finally focusing in on a single picture. A much younger Chief Evans stared into the camera. His eyes were the same bright blue as they were today, though they seemed to tell a much different story.

  Responsibility does things to people. It changes the way they look, the way they speak and the way they think. Ryan Devereux wasn’t a child, nor had he ever thought of himself as the kind of man to skirt his duties. But this wasn’t about that, this was about a choice he’d already made.

  “I’m leaving,” he answered. “After I hand in my badge. I think I’m going to leave Charleston.”

  “To go where?” Evans asked, his eyes flickering upward with surprise.

  “I don’t know just yet.” He shrugged. “I know it isn’t like me but I think I need a fresh outlook.”

  “A fresh outlook?”

  “Something new,” he answered. “A place where I don’t know what’s around each corner ten miles before I get there.”

  “And what about your girl?”

  “She’s young still, but I think she’ll understand. It’s not like I won’t see her or hear from her.”

  “I wasn’t talking about your daughter.” A look of puzzlement washed over the chiefs face. “I was talking about your girl, the one you’ve been seeing.”

  Michelle.

  What did it mean, he wondered, that his mind hadn’t gone directly to her?

  “I’ve told her,” he answered. “She won’t be coming.” It was a hard sentence to utter, one that cut him a little deeper than the detective was prepared for.

  “I’m sorry,” he answered. “She seems like a good girl.”

  “She is.”

  Ryan lifted a pen from the desk and quickly signed his name across the final resignation form. It was an odd feeling to see his name printed under the words ‘official resignation’ yet it somehow felt right. Or at least thats what he kept telling himself. In truth Ryan Devereux hadn’t been allowing himself to feel much of anything lately.

  “You still have to give me your work on the car crash from last night.” Chief Evans said. “And make sure your account of the suicide is as detailed as possible. I wouldn’t want to have you resubmitting paperwork on your last day.”

  “What about you?” Ryan asked. “When is your last day?”

  “I’ll give it until the end of next month. But like I said, I won’t make the announcement until after you’re gone. I don’t want to steal any thunder.”

  “Thunder?” The detective gave a half-hearted grin. “I doubt there’ll be much thunder. I’ve been pretty good about keeping my distance from the rest of the force so far.”

  “An easy thing to do when you work cold case but what about that partner of yours? When you planning on telling her?”

  “Today.” Ryan answered. “As soon as I get some time with her.”

  “I think I can help you out there,” Evans tapped his finger against a thin yellow folder.

  “What’s this?”

  “You’re new case,” he answered as Ryan opened it. “And I guess your last one too. A young news reporter is missing, her family hasn’t seen or heard from her in two days. I want you on it.”

  “This is active.” Ryan flipped through the thin casefile. “Kit and I are coldca-”

  “I know what kind of detective you are, Devereux.” The chief sat up straight in his chair and began flipping through documents.

  “Sir, I-”

  “You’ve got your case, Devereux. The sooner you work it the sooner you’re out of here.”

  With a heavy sigh Ryan left the office.

  Chapter Eight

  “How’s your uncle?” Kit asked.

  Ryan kept his eyes focused on the road ahead. He just wasn’t ready to look Kit in the face, he thought. But today was the day. He had to tell her, she had to know. Keeping the secret wasn’t fair to her as his partner.

  A warm coastal breeze danced across his freshly shaven neck as they rounded the corner of Holden Street. Ryan hadn’t thought much about his uncle Pauley that morning. He would have to go to the hospital later that day and check up on the man.

  Of course it would likely lead to another fight, just as it always seemed to these last few months. Pauleys words still stuck in his mind. The old man had witnessed Ryan and Jillian’s exchange, he’d seen a woman in a wedding dress asking another man to tell her he wanted more. It was a complex situation to say the least.

  “He’s okay,” the detective answered. “I mean, as okay as he can be for his age.”

  “This is the second heart attack he’s had, right?”

  “Third.” Ryan corrected. “He refuses to take care of himself. But worse than that he refuses to let anyone else do it either. He had this girl, she was good for him but he wouldn’t behave himself and I guess she got sick of it.”

  “It’s hard.” Kit’s eyes flickered toward the floorboard. “Seeing someone you love suffer that way when you know you could help them if they’d only let you. I doubt many people could do that for too long no matter how much they care.”

  A sense of pain echoed quietly under Kits words. There was still so much about his partner he didn’t know. The woman left New Jersey to travel south where she knew no one. Ryan always wondered what led her to make that choice, and now for the first time he began to think that even though she’d been unable to explain her actions he might finally understand.

  “I’m leaving the force,” he said.

  “Just the force?”

  She knew, he thought. She understood in a way he hadn’t expected until that moment.

  “Charleston too,” he answered. “Maybe. I’m not completely sure.”

  Silence blanketed their patrol car for the next few minutes. Ryan turned his eyes to the woman, trying his best to read her emotions. But just like always Kit Walker was a blank slate. Her face, her movements, none of it gave anything away.

  “There was a guy.” Kit began. “Back in Jersey. We weren’t romantic or anything, just good friends. I’ve known him forever. When I told him I was leaving he took it hard. He started listing all the reasons I should stay. He told me he’d be lost without me, that New Jersey was my home.”

  “That’s-”

  “I’m not going to do that.” She clarified. “I get it. Things get complicated and sometimes they only fix is distance. Something has been weighing on you for a while now. It’s not hard to see. We don’t need to talk about it.”

  “I appreciate you’re understanding. Most people-”

  “What about the girl?” Kit began flipping through the casefile. “What do we know?”

  Keeping his emotions at bay would be an easy thing, especially since he didn’t quite understand them himself. If Ryan Devereux were being honest he would have told his partner that he’d been expecting a different reaction. He wasn’t a child, nor were they anything other th
an partners and friends but something about Kit’s response didn’t taste quite right. He wanted more. He wanted a real conversation.

  “Local reporter,” he began. “Missing for a couple of days. Pretty, bubbly and a fairly well-known face around here too.”

  “She looks familiar.” Kit studied the young womans photo. “Boyfriend?”

  “Gus Greenfield. Local radio personality.”

  “The Gus Stop?” Kit wrinkled her brow.

  “That’s him,” he answered.

  Gus Greenfield was probably one of the most popular people in all of the Lowcountry. What started out as a small radio DJ gig had somehow morphed into a small talk show over the course of the last couple of years. The Gus Stop, as it came to be called gained traction fairly quickly once the easy-on-the-eyes young man’s face began popping up on posters throughout Charleston.

  “Have you ever listened to the show?” Ryan asked.

  “Sometimes,” she replied. “I leave the radio on when I’m working around the house. The guy is a tool.”

  “Never heard the show.”

  “People call in asking for relationship advice.”

  “Doesn’t sound so bad.” Ryan pulled the car to a stop at the end of a narrow driveway.

  A small green house sat a few feet away. A screened-in-porch wrapped the front, extending halfway down each side. Faded white shutters capped each window and a series of small lightning rods pointed skyward from the roof. Houses like this one were a dime a dozen throughout Carolina and it’s surrounding area’s. At least once you got close enough to the marsh.

  “What?” Kit asked, noticing the pause in his step.

  “Nothing,” he answered. “This house just looks exactly like the one I grew up in. Same colors, same lightning rods. It’s a carbon copy. Even the trees look the same.”

  “Maybe it’s the same house?”

  “No,” he shook his head. “My house was torn down a few years back. These houses are all over though. I just hadn’t been expecting it.”

  “Do you need a minute?”

  “No,” he looked to her. “Don’t be silly. It’s just a house.”

  With that the two detectives headed up the small concrete steps. Ryan knocked three times, each one a little louder than the last until finally he heard footsteps coming toward him. The door swung open to reveal a red-haired woman in her late forties.

  She gave a half-hearted smile and stepped aside, allowing Kit and Ryan to enter her modest home. Ryan took a seat on a worn corduroy couch. It was the kind of thing he hadn’t seen in years, with overstuffed pillows and recliners at either end and a few small tears along its edges.

  “My name is detective Ryan Devereux,” he began. “And this is my partner Kit Walker. We understand you haven’t seen your daughter in a couple of days and you’re worried?”

  “That’s right,” the woman answered, her voice shaky with concern.

  “What can you tell me about Holly?” He asked. “Has she ever done anything like this before?”

  “Oh no,” she answered shaking her head. “She’s a good girl, a responsible one too. She always checks in. I worry when I don’t hear from her and she knows it.”

  “Tell me about the last time you saw her.” Kit asked.

  “Friday.” She answered. “She took a small overnight bag with her. Said she was going down to Hilton Head with that boyfriend of hers. It was only supposed to be one night and then she’d be back Saturday evening.”

  “When you say boyfriend. Are you talking about Gus Greenfield?”

  “That’s him,” she began nervously sipping her coffee. “The boy from the radio. I told her not to get involved with him. That I didn’t approve but she’s an adult. I can’t make her decisions for her, you know?”

  Maryann Waters rocked in her chair as the detectives pressed on for further information. Scattered throughout the living room were photos of the young girl and her mother smiling and holding one another as they blew out birthday candles. Maryann hadn’t changed in years, Ryan noticed. Her eyes, her makeup, even her hair. It was always the same.

  But today was different. The worried woman’s face was void of any color or shadowing. Her always perfect hair was now a frazzled mess and the smile she seemed to always carry so proudly had become lost in a sea of worry and desperation.

  “And what was her reason for going to Hilton Head?” Ryan asked.

  “A funeral.” Maryann replied. “Gus… his uncle died and she was going with him to the funeral.”

  “And once she drove away,” Kit leaned in. “You didn’t hear from her anymore?”

  “No. Not a word.”

  With years of police experience under his belt Ryan Devereux was pretty good at recognizing signs and suspects when it came to crimes. Usually though, there was something else in the mix, a catalyst of sorts that set the crime into motion. So far Maryann’s story told of a young couple taking an overnight trip. Nothing more.

  “And you watched her get into the truck?”

  “Oh no,” she continued nursing her coffee. “She headed back to her apartment. He was supposed to pick her up from there.”

  “You say you don’t care for your daughters relationship with Gus Greenfield. Mind telling me why?”

  “It ain’t right.” Maryann fired. “It ain’t right in the eyes of the Lord. He wasn’t being fair to my Holly or to that other woman.”

  “Other woman?” Ryan asked.

  “His fiancé.” Maryann clapped.

  And there it was Ryan thought, the catalyst. One man loving two women rarely ended well. Relationships are difficult things even when they’re easy but adding in another person only serves to breed jealousy and competition.

  “Are you saying Gus Greenfield is engaged?” Kit quickly scribbled a note onto her tablet.

  “My Holly didn’t know that going in. She found out just a few days into the relationship and then she stopped answering his calls. She believed him when he said it was over between him and the other girl. She said she loved him.”

  “And how long have your daughter and Mr. Greenfield been dating?”

  “About eight months, I think.” The frazzled woman replied. “There were times along the way when she said they weren’t together, but those only lasted a few days. She would hear his voice on the radio. He would play songs and she said they were for her.”

  “I understand.” Kit placed her hand softly on Maryann’s arm. “It must have been a difficult thing for her. What about friends, coworkers… anything like that. Can you think of anyone else who might have wanted to hurt Holly or who may know something?”

  “Everyone loved her.” She lifted a small framed photo from the side table and passed it to Kit. “She’s sweet and kind. And so beautiful.”

  “Yes.” Kit nodded. “She is beautiful.”

  “I have her phone.” Maryann wiped her face and headed for the kitchen. “She has two phones, a personal one and a work one.”

  “How did you come to have her phone?” Ryan asked.

  “She left it with me when she told me she’d be away overnight. I can use this one to call her and see her face while we’re talking.”

  “I see.” He said. “Would you mind if we take this with us? I can have it looked at back at the station. It might help give us some new information.”

  “No,” answered the worried woman. “My baby might call and I need to be here if she does.”

  “I understand.” The two detectives headed out of the small house.

  “You’re going to find her. Right?” Maryann called behind them.

  “We’re going to try.”

  Chapter Nine

  Watershed Apartments was a small place with only a handful of buildings, each one just two stories high. Built roughly ten years ago Ryan remembered when the land used to just be marsh and dense woods. It wasn’t what he considered a luxury place, but it wasn’t bad either. Still, he preferred his houseboat.

  “I looked at this place.” Kit said as they
pulled into the parking lot. “When I first got down here. I’d forgotten about it actually.”

  “Not New Jersey enough for you?”

  “I was in the apartment about thirty seconds when I heard a bunch of kids screaming next door. They must have been playing a game. One of them slammed into the wall so hard I thought it was going to collapse. I decided I wanted a house.”

  Ryan leaned against the side of his cruiser and waited for the building manager to arrive. He needed to see the young woman’s apartment. She’d been missing for two days, which almost never meant anything good. One day and he could have had some hope, but two days was something else entirely, every detective knew that.

  “Montana,” Kit chirped.

  “What?”

  “Montana.” She repeated. “If I was leaving that’s where I’d go.”

  Ryan found himself surprised she’d brought up his leaving. Something about how cooly she was taking the news still wasn’t sitting right with him. He hadn’t expected a meltdown or for the woman to grab his hands and beg him to stay but he’d expected more.

  She’d once done the same thing, he kept reminding himself. She understood.

  “Detective?” A tall thin man climbed out of his truck and extended his hand.

  “Mr. Jones?”

  “Call me Jake,” he answered.

  “Jake Jones. Alright.” Answered the detective. “That’s a superhero name if I’ve ever heard one.”

  “I ain’t no hero,” he chuckled. “Super or anything else.”

  Ryan and Kit followed behind the man as he headed to one of the complex’s smaller buildings and up to the second floor. Chipped red paint covered the apartment door. He took note of a small series of dents and scratches near the handle, the kind seen after someone locks themselves out one too many times and has to break in to their own house.

  The small apartment was dark and quiet as the three stepped inside. Jake quickly flicked on a light and began making slow circles throughout the living room. On the dresser near the television sat an empty handbag. Bright blue with orange and yellow trim.