The Killing Sands

by Rick Murcer

  He slapped himself in the head to clear his mind. Got to get going soon before the beach empties. Go, Luki, go. He could almost hear his sister prodding him. And with that, Hasan showered, changed into clean clothes, and this time headed south on A1A to Minutemen Causeway.

  * * * * *

  Billy Jarvis steered his bike down the shaded path to the river. An Iraq war veteran, he'd been homeless for ten years and he came to this secret spot at least once a week to troll for oysters. Something that made him extremely popular with his fellow “campers,” as he provided enough food for a communal cookout.

  Grabbing his rake and bag, Jarvis waded into the water, then stopped and stared. What the hell is that yellow stuff floating around? Baby-stepping his way closer, Billy Jarvis saw something that scared the shit out of him. Dropping his gear, he ran like a bat out of hell toward the highway.

  * * * * *

  Scott smiled at Lenore as she served him a glass of brandy in a dainty china cup. Her official statement already recorded, he thought he'd stay and chat for a while, as the old woman was obviously lonely. That idea went out the window when his cell phone buzzed. It was John again…another body had just been found.

  * * * * *

  Megan Morse flung her long, blond hair from side to side as the camera captured every move she made.

  The 22-year-old model from Miami was doing a swimsuit photo shoot for a national sports publication and knew this could be the break she'd been waiting for. Megan flashed a winning smile at the photographer when he signaled “that's a wrap” and hoped her half-naked pictures would be decent enough to plaster across the magazine's cover.

  Grabbing a towel and an iced tea, Megan sauntered down to the water. Knowing she was being ogled by everyone, man and woman alike, she loved the attention. Especially from a super-looking guy who stood ankle deep in the surf with a look of bemusement on his face.

  Approaching him, she asked, “So, did you enjoy the show?”

  “Sure did, darlin'. My name is Larry…and you are?” Luki Hasan knew he'd found his next conquest when an hour later he'd made a dinner date with Megan Morse.

  Saturday, March 24 - 7PM

  John Patterson's face was ashen. It had taken no time at all to identify the latest victim as the daughter of Orlando's mayor, Dale Prentice, from a political flyer found in her purse. And the shit quickly hit the fan.

  Kaitlyn's family had been immediately notified and her father chauffeured to Cocoa Beach, where he'd given an in-depth interview to the media. Consequently, the story was already plastered as “breaking news” across the entire central Florida area.

  Patterson looked across his desk at Scott, who was looking at the ceiling. “Okay, boyo. I want you to go and park it at Sea Side until you see that Cadillac. Then run the plates.” He rubbed his jaw. “Christ, this is the only viable lead we have so far, though I'm still wondering if we're barking up the wrong tree.”

  Although Scott was listening, he was having a lot of trouble getting the picture of Kaitlyn Prentice's corpse out of his mind. “Okay, I'm on it. But, shit, I sure as hell hope we find whoever is doing this soon because he's obviously escalating. I mean, that poor girl didn't even look human.”

  “I know,” John muttered, lost in his own morbid recap of the body's condition. “Anyway, you get going, and I'm going to finish up with Kaitlyn's friends. Though it's probably a waste of time since I'm having no luck at all in getting a decent description other than well-built and good-looking.” He grabbed his keys and said, “Which describes about half the men on the beach now, and there are thousands of them. Oh, by the way, I put in a call to the property manager. Had to leave a message.”

  Scott shook his head as he followed his boss out the door. “Let me know if you hear back. I'm going to do a quick check on Erin and get Jinx, too. She and I will sit in the Tahoe and watch. Maybe we'll get lucky.”

  Patterson replied with no enthusiasm at all, “Yeah. Maybe.”

  * * * * *

  Erin picked up the pepper spray off the foyer table and ushered the dogs out to the elevator, well aware of Scott's worry. But Jinx and Bo had bodily functions to attend to, the nut next door be damned.

  After a good fifteen minutes in the side yard, she was returning to her condo when she saw Scott pull up.

  “Hey you! Now don't get mad. The dogs had to go!” Erin hurried over to the SUV.

  Scott hugged her and said, “Babe, I just didn't want you to stray too far, that's all.” Noticing the can of spray in her hand, he smiled. “Besides, I knew you'd protect yourself.”

  Erin watched as the two dogs happily greeted this man they loved…the man she loved, too. “So, what the hell is happening? I saw on the news they found another body?”

  Scott leaned wearily against the Tahoe and said, “Yeah. And it was beyond brutal. So Jinx and I are going to spend the night in the parking lot.” Hearing her name, the shepherd sat and stared at her master. “Aren't we, girl?” Jinx barked.

  “You're what??” Erin looked at him like he'd lost it.

  “There was a type-match from one of the victims and the blood on that piece of shirt you gave me, so we're gonna sit out here and wait for your new neighbor to come home. According to Mrs. Rosenberg on the second floor, he drives a black Cadillac, so shouldn't be too hard to spot. I'll get the tag number and run it for an ID,” Scott explained while he put Jinx in the back seat.

  “Damn, Scott. Since I've been stuck inside all day, I cooked your favorite dinner.”

  “I'm sorry, sweetheart, but that lasagna is gonna have to wait. Hey, why don't you freeze it, and we'll celebrate with that and a huge bottle of wine when this is all over? Sound like a plan?” Scott knew Erin was disappointed and he felt like shit. Which reminded him that he needed to stop by his own house soon and check on the place, including the small diamond ring he'd bought for—hopefully—his soon-to-be fiancee.

  “That sounds great. I'll just make a sandwich for dinner. What about you?”

  Scott jerked his head towards the back and said, “Can't you tell?” Erin looked in where Jinx was staring intently at a bag of groceries on the Tahoe's floor.

  “Oh, I see. You're settled in for a while, I guess. Call me later, okay?” With that, she kissed him and patted Jinx. “You two be careful! I love you.” She turned and walked Bo back to the front door.

  Scott watched her leave with a heavy heart and prayed this vigil was worth the effort.

  Saturday, March 24 - 10PM

  Dinner at Surf-n-Turf had been a stellar success. Over multiple margaritas, Luki regaled Megan with his exotic background and she'd sat in awe of this man who had nothing more on his mind than piercing her vapid eyes with his switch blade.

  Now, pulling into the Sea Side parking lot, Luki noticed a Chevy Tahoe that looked out of place simply because it sat all by its lonesome two rows behind all the other vehicles.

  He got out of the Cadillac and stood staring at the entrance, waiting for Megan's rental car to appear. Yet he was also checking out the SUV and his adrenaline kicked into overdrive when he saw movement inside. Since street lights were right overhead, a man and a dog were clearly outlined in the front seat.

  Motherfucker, he thought as he smiled at the eager whore trotting in his direction. Scrambling for what to do next, Luki Hasan knew there would be no revenge for Lana tonight. But what to do with the slut now that she was here?

  Megan reached him and said, “Oh, whoa, Larry! What a gorgeous place! Can't wait to see the view from your balcony.”

  Luki grabbed her hand and led her towards the lobby. “Yes, my darlin', I think you'll enjoy it.” Chewing the inside of his cheek, he jabbed the elevator button.

  Opening the door to the penthouse, Luki had a brainstorm. Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he looked at the screen, frowned, then said, “Damn!”

  “What's wrong, Larry?”

  “Talk about bad timing. We’re going to have to cut this evening short. Got a text from my connections in Dubai so it
looks like I'm going to be on the phone all night dealing with this. Time difference and all that.”

  Megan poofed her lips out into what she thought was a cute pout. “Oh, shit. I was sooo looking forward to some serious sex.”

  Luki tried to act disappointed but could only think about how soon he could get her out of his condo. “I'm really sorry, my love. But how about I pick you up at dawn? Maybe we can catch the sunrise from up here and then we'll spend the day taking care of each other.” He winked and Megan smiled.

  “Ooh. That sounds wonderful,” she cooed.

  Luki got the hotel's name and Megan's room number, then sent her on her way. His head starting to pound, he went to bed. And, soaked in sweat, he plotted his next move.

  * * * * *

  Scott sat at Erin's dining room table, papers strewn about like confetti, and took notes as he talked to his boss.

  “Well, he took the girl up to his condo so I didn't know what the hell to do. I mean, I couldn't very well bust in on him for bringing a date home. But it was weird…about ten minutes later, the girl came out of the lobby and left in her car, headed south.”

  “Is that all ya got?” Patterson asked him.

  “No, there's more,” Scott said. “I ran the plates. A 2011 Cadillac Escalade registered to a Luki Hasan of Daytona Beach. DMV records show a 5'11' male, 27-years-old, born in Saudi, has a green card.” He scrolled down on his laptop. “Couldn't get the girl's tags as she wheeled out of here too fast. But I do know she's driving a beige, late-model Sonata.”

  “That's my man,” John said. “I still haven't heard back from the property manager so I'll try again in the morning. So is this Luki still at home or do you know?”

  “We waited for an hour.” Scott rubbed the dog's ears. “But no activity so I came up to Erin's. Figure he's in for the night. At least, I hope he is. Not a lot else we can do right now, is there?”

  “Guess not. So we're back to pissing in the wind. Shit!” John looked at the clock and said, “But I will have one of the pier patrol cars cruise Sea Side every hour just in case.”

  “Good idea. Anyway, I'm going to eat something and then hit the hay. I'm bushed…but ya know something I just thought of? That old lady, Mrs. Rosenberg, told me she sits up half the night since she can't sleep. That's why she's noticed this guy's comings and goings. I'll check with her tomorrow just for the hell of it.”

  “Okay, Scott. Now, go get some sleep.” John yawned into the phone. “I'm gonna do the same unless…”

  “Yeah, unless.” Scott yawned, too, then hung up.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Sunday, March 25 - 7AM

  Officer Jimmy Donahue woke up with a start and looked at his watch. Time to go home. He'd missed the 6:00AM run by that condo complex but figured since the vehicle had been in the same place all night that he probably hadn't missed anything at all. A cop for forty years, Donahue didn't really care much either. Retirement was a month away and, crossing the causeway to Merritt Island, his thoughts drifted to eating a big breakfast with his wife before going to early Mass.

  * * * * *

  Luki wiped off the switch blade while viewing the gory piece of trash on the bed.

  Megan's head was almost severed. Her breasts were, too. But, this time, Hasan had left the face intact…other than the word “whore” etched from left to right across the model's prominent cheekbones. Thoroughly disgusted by the sight, he hadn't felt like ramming his knife up her ass. So, instead, he'd just sliced off those cheeks and laid them on top of her flopping boobs.

  Satisfied, and as sated as his impotence would allow, Hasan removed his sweatshirt and gloves, then stuffed them into one of Megan's carryalls. As an afterthought, he grabbed her purse.

  Naked from the waist up, Luki drove back to the Sea Side complex. Leaving the bags in the Escalade, he put the knife in his pocket and scurried down to the beach. He'd rinse off in the water while trying to look like any other guy going for a casual sunrise walk along the shore.

  Sensing that his revenge was over, Hasan wanted to savor the events of the last few days before he returned to the condo, retrieved his meager belongings, and got the hell out of town…and this God-forsaken country.

  * * * * *

  Lenore Rosenberg woke with a start and looked out the bay window. There he was again! Now he had no shirt on. She noted the time and decided she'd call that nice Detective McBride and tell him what she'd seen.

  * * * * *

  Scott forgot he had his cell phone set on ring, so when Springsteen's “Born in the USA” blared, he knocked over his coffee cup in surprise, Jinx started barking, then so did Bo, and Erin just shook her head and grinned.

  “Yo! McBride here.” He looked sheepishly at Erin and mouthed an apology as she began to clean up the mess.

  “Uh, hello, Detective McBride. This is Lenore Rosenberg, the lady you interviewed. Remember?”

  Scott got up and started pacing. “Of course, I remember you. Is everything all right? I mean, it's awfully early…”

  “Oh, dear, I'm sorry. Did I wake you?” Lenore was suddenly feeling stupid for calling.

  “No, no, it's fine. Do you need me to come to your place? I can be there in no time.”

  Lenore smiled to herself as she knew exactly where the handsome detective was. “Actually, Detective, if you'll go out on the balcony and look up and down the beach, you may see the subject of this call.”

  Scott hesitated. “Um, I'm not sure what you mean…”

  Lenore interrupted him, her voice filled with warmth. “It's quite all right, Detective. As you know, I see everything that goes on around here so it would be rather hard to miss you and your beautiful dog going upstairs and not coming down.” She added, “Personally, I think it's wonderful.”

  Scott grinned at the woman's perceptive candor. “Thanks, Mrs. Rosenberg. I appreciate that. And, now, I'm doing just what you suggested. In the distance, I do see a guy walking in the water.”

  Lenore asked, “Is he shirtless? Or can you tell?”

  “Shirtless? Can't be sure. It's still a little dark, and he's pretty far down.”

  “Well, let me fill you in while you watch.” And Lenore Rosenberg proceeded to relate Luki Hasan's departure from the condo at precisely 5:15, his return at precisely 6:48.

  Scott thanked the woman and hung up, scowling. He glanced at the time and noted it was ten after seven. The sun was just starting to show itself. And so was the wind. The only thought that crossed his mind was that the seas were going to get very rough very soon.

  * * * * *

  Rob Vance had owned and operated the Sand Dunes since 1985. Tucked in between the high-rise hotels that now loomed over the beach, his establishment was nevertheless considered a great place to stay as the ten suites offered small fully-equipped kitchens within each one. And many tourists enjoyed the personal attention Vance doled out, so he never had a problem with vacancies.

  Doing his morning inspection, he walked around the U-shaped building not expecting to find much out of the ordinary as it was early Sunday. Yet he caught a glimpse of something definitely not right. Checking his clipboard, Vance noted who was staying in the end unit. A model from Miami and her door was blown wide open by the brisk breeze. As he reached the woman's room, he peeked in. Gagging, Vance stumbled back to the office and dialed 911.

  * * * * *

  Scott leaned on the balcony enjoying the fabulous view as much as any cop on alert could. But the wind was whipping up some decent waves that reminded him he hadn't been surfing in months.

  Shoving that thought aside, he continued to watch the lone figure meandering slowly down the beach. Not sure if he should call John right away, his ringing phone took the decision out of his hands.

  “Oh, no,” is all he said when he saw it was his boss on the other end.

  “Oh, yes,” Patterson replied. “Motel manager down south found a dead body in one of his units. It's a young woman from Miami. Name of Megan Morse. No ID in the room but get this. There is
a beige Sonata sitting right outside her door. I'm getting a search warrant as we speak.”

  Scott kept his eyes focused on the guy walking the beach. “Okay, John. I'm fairly certain I have Hasan in my sights.” He related the info Lenore had provided, then asked, “So what do you want me to do?”

  “I think we have enough to bring him in for questioning. You want to handle it alone or do you want backup?”

  Scott thought a minute, then replied, “Why not send a patrol car with two officers up here. Tell them to wait in the parking lot and to be on the lookout for Hasan. I'm going to grab my cuffs and Taser from the truck just in case I run into a problem. But I'll have Jinx with me so…”

  “Sounds like a plan,” John said. “I'll meet you at the station whenever I get done here. But, Scott, be careful. If Hasan is indeed the perp, he has absolutely nothing to lose now.”

  “Will do, John. See ya in a bit.”

  * * * * *

  Lenore Rosenberg found the old binoculars her Bernie had used in his bird-watching days, grabbed her cane, and went out on her balcony. She dusted off the sand from the rarely-used patio chair, sat down, and scanned the beach.

  Sunday, March 25 - 8AM

  Two patrol cars entered the Sea Side parking lot just as Scott locked the Tahoe and headed towards the back of the complex. He gave them a thumbs up and, with Jinx on her leash, walked down to the dunes. Squatting, he fingered the baggie he'd placed in his T-shirt pocket and, as quietly as possible, opened the zip-lock just enough to make it easier for him to pull out its contents if need be.

  Noticing Lenore sitting on her balcony—and Erin perched on hers—Scott put a finger to his lips in a 'be quiet' signal, then placed Jinx in a “down-stay” position. Seconds later, he saw Hasan turn back toward the condos.