Water's Edge: A totally gripping crime thriller (Detective Megan Carpenter Book 2)

by Gregg Olsen

  I move carefully, quietly, my hand gripping my .45 tightly. My finger isn’t along the side of the trigger guard like they teach at the academy. It’s on the trigger. I’m playing by my rules. I won’t be shot again.

  The rope stairs are just ahead now but my foot hits something and it clatters across the boards. I keep my eyes on the cabin. The light goes off. Crap! I rush to the boat and put my back against the hull, holding the .45 in a two-handed grip, muzzle pointed upward. I’m hoping he’ll look over the railing. He doesn’t. I can see what I kicked about ten feet ahead. It’s Ronnie’s cell phone. I’m motionless, barely breathing, not by choice. I stay that way longer than I like, but I want to let him make the first move so I can make the last one.

  My shoulders are on fire from holding my arms above my head, and my chest is throbbing. I’m going to have to move. I switch the .45 to one hand, turn toward the ladder, and begin climbing. I stop after each rung and listen. With a boat the size of the Integrity, I don’t think my movement will rock it and give me away, but I’m not sure. I guess it really doesn’t matter. The light went off, and if Ronnie is in there, he could be doing anything to her.

  I climb until I see the boat’s rough deck. It’s deserted. The boat is rocking gently against the rubber bumpers. I climb onto the deck. This is where I’ll get ambushed if he’s waiting for me. But I don’t think he is waiting because he thinks he has already killed me.

  I put my back against the outside wall near the cabin door and risk a peek through the door glass. There’s a half-moon out. Just enough light to see Ronnie slumped on the floor against the far wall. She’s not moving. I can’t tell if she’s alive or dead. Please! I can’t even tell if she’s hurt. I try the handle. The door is unlocked. It clicks and opens an inch. The muzzle of my .45 opens it another inch. There’s no sound but the rubbing of the hull against the bumpers.

  When I was young I was impetuous. I become that girl again now. All I can think about is Ronnie and my brother. I promised Hayden I’d protect him. Never leave him. I left to protect him. He’ll never understand that. I made myself a promise to find Ronnie. I’ve found her. Now I have to bring her home.

  I should never have let her get mixed up in this. I should have known the killer would come after us. Particularly her. She has the perfect profile. And she is dangerous to him. He had to know what we were doing tonight. What we did today. Who we talked to? What we know or have guessed. He’s been a step ahead of us the entire time. He killed Boyd and Qassim to cover his tracks and put us on the wrong scent. He is ruthless. But I am too. I’m not afraid anymore.

  I use the muzzle to push the door open and I go in low. Something hard and cold presses against the side of my head.

  “Drop the gun.”

  “Hello, Little Italy,” I say, and take my finger off the trigger. I can see Ronnie. Her chest is moving slightly. She’s not dead.

  “Where’s Captain Marvel?” I ask.

  “Marvelous Martin?” He laughs.

  “Is he still alive?”

  “You should be dead.”

  I’m scared, but I try to make a joke. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before. I think we should talk about your marksmanship.”

  The joke doesn’t land where I hoped.

  The muzzle of the gun presses harder into my temple. “Drop the gun, hotshot. I mean it.”

  “Or what? You’ll kill me? You’ve already tried that once.”

  I can sense him putting pressure on the trigger.

  “Okay,” I blurt out. “I thought you Italians had a better sense of humor.” I lay the gun on the floor. “Now tell me where the captain is.” My voice is shaking, but not with fear. I’m too angry to be scared.

  “Slide it backwards to me with your foot,” he says. “And if you value your friend’s life, you won’t be stupid.”

  Don’t worry, asshole, you’ve got stupid covered nicely. I use my foot to slide the gun behind me. He is smart. He doesn’t bend to pick it up and instead kicks it off in the dark.

  “Now that you’ve got my gun, can we sit down and talk about this?”

  He chuckles. “I heard you was a smart-ass. It’s good that you can joke when you’re going to be dead—again—in a minute. Too bad. I think we could’ve been friends.”

  “I thought we were friends,” I say. “Tell me where the captain is. Did you kill him too?”

  “He’s down below,” Jimmy says. “You think you’re tough. He thought he was tough too. Gets me excited. Know what I mean.”

  “The captain got you excited? Okay. To each his own I guess.”

  He moves the muzzle of the gun around to the back of my head and presses it into my scalp, forcing my head forward.

  “Get on your knees. I got something special for you.”

  “Okay. I’ll accept your surrender. And you don’t even have to get on your knees.”

  “I’m gonna let you blow me, and if you do it good, I won’t blow you. Get it? Blow you?”

  Bending lower like I’m getting to my knees I say, “Didn’t you pay attention in the academy?”

  “That’s enough,” he says, and I anticipate him shoving the gun into the back of my head again. As he does, I twist, slap his gun away with one hand, and draw Ronnie’s .45 from my waistband with the other. I fall to the floor and hit it hard. Hard enough to start blacking out, but I don’t. I pull the trigger. My bullet hits Jimmy Polito just above the notch in his throat. He lifts his face and I see an expression like What? His gun is again pointed at me. In the academy they taught me to shoot until the target is no longer a threat.

  So I shoot.

  Twice in the upper chest.

  Once in the crotch.

  Then a last one in the crotch, because of what he is.

  He drops the gun. His hands jerk up to his throat and down to his crotch like he can’t make his mind up. They end up at his throat. He slumps against the cabin wall and slides down onto his butt. I stand over him and watch blood seep between his fingers. His mouth is working like a fish’s when it’s pulled out of the water, and blood oozes down both sides of it. His eyes are fixed on mine. He’s not completely dead.

  I lean over and put the muzzle of Ronnie’s .45 against his forehead.

  “When you kill someone, make sure they stay dead, asshole,” I say.

  His eyes widen just before the back of his skull explodes against the cabin wall.

  Fifty-Two

  The ambulance had come for Ronnie. It was too late for Officer Jimmy Polito. Captain Martin’s body was found belowdecks on the Integrity. He’d been shot once in the side of the head with his own duty weapon. Skull fragments and brain matter on the wall indicated he’d been shot at close range. His holster was empty.

  His gun was in Jimmy Polito’s hand.

  I am sure the gun Jimmy used to shoot me will prove to be the captain’s duty weapon. Polito knew from the police grapevine that Ronnie and I had been traipsing all over Clallam and Kitsap Counties, talking to people about Captain Martin. He was the perfect scapegoat. Larry had already planted the seed of suspicion when he told us about Martin’s pregnant wife drowning. Martin was supposed to be reenacting the tragedy. But that made no sense. Because Martin had lost the baby when his wife died, he’d have wanted to protect Margie’s unborn child.

  Even if she was planning to sell it.

  Polito intended to make it look as if Captain Martin had come to Ronnie’s place, shot me, kidnapped her, and taken her back to the Integrity with the intention of dumping her body somewhere like the others. The other boat that I’d seen next to the Integrity would be towed behind. Jimmy would leave Ronnie’s body on the rocks. He would leave the Integrity anchored where it would be found in the area of the murder with Captain Martin’s body inside. He’d take the other boat back to Port Townsend, where his car was parked, and probably pull it up on one of the boat trailers I’d seen. It would be ruled a murder/suicide. He’d already tried that scenario with Boyd and his roommate, but when I didn’t believe it, he had to
try someone else more believable.

  He made one mistake.

  Not killing me.

  He’d never make that mistake again.

  I was released from the same hospital where Jimmy Polito had worked. And now I am sitting in Sheriff Gray’s creaky chair; he insisted, saying it’s the most comfortable. If I move or stand the wrong way it still feels like an elephant is standing on my chest. Sitting is worse, but I don’t want to ruin the sheriff’s chivalrous gesture. He’s in full father mode and has made coffee for us. Ronnie is in the room with us.

  Could use a little Scotch in it, but it’s not too bad.

  Ronnie sits next to me in the roll-around chair Sheriff Gray borrowed from my desk. She was banged up pretty good. Split lip. Broken wrist. Bruised ribs. Stitches in a cut on her forehead. But she wasn’t raped, or killed, or posed naked on a beach somewhere with that ridiculous all-seeing eye watching her body be discovered.

  Getting a deep breath is still difficult for me, so I let Ronnie do the talking.

  “Megan and I were watching the hospital surveillance video at my place. She had the idea that the killer might have visited one of the victims when she had their baby. That’s why she asked for the court order for records and video from the hospital.”

  The sheriff nods.

  “We spent the day running down family and coworkers and friends of the victims in Clallam and Kitsap Counties. We were hearing different stories from what was in the detectives’ reports.”

  Sheriff Gray turns to me. “Is that why you didn’t want those detectives in on the debrief?”

  “I’m still pissed at them,” I say.

  Not a complete lie, because I am pissed at them, but it isn’t the only reason. I don’t trust them, and Kitsap is in charge of the investigation on the Integrity and at Ronnie’s place: the shooting of Captain Marvel—I need to quit calling him that—my shooting of Polito, and of course his attempt at killing me. Twice.

  “Continue,” he says.

  Ronnie winces. Her lip—her whole face, for that matter—must hurt when she talks. But it’s a good teaching tool. Never open a door blindly. Of course, it was Jimmy Polito who was at the door, in uniform; she would have had no reason not to trust him. And our guns were clear across the room on a counter. And we’d both been drinking for a couple of hours.

  “I must have nodded off during the video,” Ronnie says. “I heard a knock at the door and woke up. Megan wasn’t on the couch. I thought maybe she’d left and what I’d heard was the door shutting. I got up and cracked the door to see if she’d left and a uniformed policeman was standing there. He looked kind of familiar. He forced the door open, said something like ‘Surprise, bitch,’ and kicked me in the stomach. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me up and punched me in the face.”

  She has the black eye to prove it. Her cheek is swollen and shiny black. The stitched-up and bandaged cut on her forehead just above her eye is where his academy ring struck. That will leave a scar. Every cop needs one to tell stories and show to their grandchildren.

  I should be so lucky.

  “I heard shots and then he hit me on the head with something. I don’t remember how I got on the boat, but I woke up in the cabin. He was bragging about how he’d fooled us all. He admitted killing Leann and Dina and Margie. I asked him why he did it and he said they had it coming. The all-seeing eye marked them. He was almost in a rage about them giving up their babies. He said he especially enjoyed killing Margie because she was selling her babies. Then he got quiet and kept looking at me. He said… he…”

  Sheriff Gray says, “Go ahead, Ronnie. It’s okay. You’re with family.”

  I surprise myself and put a hand on hers. She’s been through hell and survived. That gets her lots of gold stars in my book.

  “He told me to take my clothes off. He said he had something for me that I wasn’t going to forget. Then he laughed and said I wouldn’t remember it, either. I knew he was going to rape me and kill me just like those other girls.”

  She swallows and I can see her lips trembling. She’s about to come apart. She takes a breath.

  “I remembered where I’d seen his face,” she says. “He was the security officer on the hospital video we were watching. That friend of Clay’s. He had a gun in his hand the whole time. He must have heard something because he looked out the window. I knew I had to fight to escape and I was getting ready to when he slammed me against the wall and hit me over the head again. I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up on the boat with Megan sitting on the floor, holding me. She called for an ambulance and backup.”

  She gives me a look that I can’t quite read.

  “I’m sorry I let you down, Megan. I should have… I should…”

  Tears start streaming down her cheeks.

  The sheriff clears his throat. “That’ll be enough for now. I’ll need to get a taped statement from both of you, but it can wait.”

  Our guns were taken at the scene and there will be a hearing to determine if my shooting was necessary. My only regret is that I didn’t completely castrate the son of a bitch. Sheriff Gray says he’ll get in touch with Clay Osborne and Cousin Larry and tell them to leave us alone until we are ready to talk. He gives us both a week off, but I know I’ll be back at work tomorrow. Ronnie, maybe not. She is still pretty shaken up about Captain Martin. She looked up to him. I thought he saw her as a conquest, but that’s unkind. Maybe he wasn’t a self-centered pig.

  At least now she knows he wasn’t a murderer and rapist.

  Sheriff argues, unsuccessfully, that we be taken home. I insist that I take myself and Ronnie home. I don’t like being coddled. I win. I drive.

  I walk Ronnie out to my car. Someone picked the Taurus up at Ronnie’s house and left it here at the station for me. I feel every jarring step from my ribs to the top of my head. I’m badly bruised and it still hurts to breathe, but I’m alive. One of Jimmy’s bullets struck my body armor directly over my sternum. The doctor said if I hadn’t been wearing the armor plate in my vest, I wouldn’t have made it. I told him he should see the other guy and got a laugh.

  Ronnie’s car keys are still in my pocket. I hand them to her.

  “I stole your car. Sorry.”

  Ronnie smiles and winces at the same time and her hand goes to her split lip. It has been glued and taped together. Another scar.

  “I’m going to have a black eye,” she says.

  Guess what? You already do. “It gets better. Put some raw meat on it.”

  “Why do people always say that? I think it’s a waste of a good steak.”

  She still has a sense of humor. That’s good.

  “Yeah. You ready to go home? I’ll get someone to get your car for you.”

  Look at me: I’m being nice. It can happen.

  “No,” she says. “Let’s get my car. My wrist may not be good for a while, but I can drive with one hand. I’m just thankful that I’m alive. If it wasn’t for you…” She trails off and the waterworks turn on again. I’m starting to think the knock on her head did more than knock her out no matter what the X-ray showed. She hugs me with her good arm, and I let her. I clumsily hug her back. We shared a traumatic experience. Normal people bond after something like that.

  Maybe I am normal . . .

  When Ronnie dries up, I help her into the Taurus, buckle her up, and off we go.

  I turn onto SR-19 and head home. I’m tired, sore, and sick inside that Ronnie almost got killed thanks to me, but I’m not satisfied that this is really over. Jimmy Polito bragged about the murders of the three women but not about Karynn, and not about Boyd or Qassim. It is probably nothing. He killed the captain but didn’t admit to that.

  Maybe Ronnie just didn’t remember everything he’d said.

  I think about all the assholes in this case: Jim Truitt, Joe Bohleber the Bobbsey twin. But there are good people, like Cass, whom I still owed; Lonigan, whom I’ve come to respect; Marley Wang, who has been a real trouper. My thoughts circle ba
ck to Hayden and my mother.

  Good and evil.

  Maybe it was her betrayal of me and Hayden—and my own betrayal of Hayden—that isn’t allowing me to put this to rest? My mother lied, and then lied about the lies, and on and on. She was a supremely talented liar. She could teach politicians and lawyers a thing or two and pick their pockets at the same time.

  Hayden still loved her.

  He doesn’t know what I know.

  The road is fairly clear, and I drive on autopilot, my mind recalling everything I saw at Ronnie’s; Jimmy standing in the doorway, holding Ronnie by the hair, shooting me; everything at the pier; everything on the boat. And then it hits me. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. I was too focused on taking the asshole out. I didn’t consider everything.

  “We need to make a stop,” I say.

  “The Tides? Honestly, I don’t think I can drink anything, Megan. They gave me some pain meds at the hospital and I’m not very hungry.”

  “Did they find your cell phone?”

  She felt her pockets. “Yeah.” She took the phone out and showed me.

  I tell her who to call. To her credit, she doesn’t ask questions. She dials and hands me the phone. The questions will come after the calls.

  Fifty-Three

  The Kingston substation of the Kitsap County Sheriff’s Office has exactly three parking spaces in front. I have my pick. The front of Clay’s motorcycle peeks out from behind the building. Larry Gray pulls in beside us in a brand-spanking-new Ford 500 sedan, not his assigned late-’90s-model Chevy Caprice. The Caprice is a beast. A land whale. It handles turns about as well as an ocean liner. He’s in full uniform instead of civvies. We get out of our vehicles, and Larry stands in front of his new car, arms spread wide, an equally wide smile on his face.

  “Thanks to you two the sheriff gave me a new car,” he says. “I’m somewhat of a celebrity now that I cleared the Benton case.”