Siren's Secret

by Debbie Herbert

  “Don’t be upset.” Lily stroked her arm. “You did what you had to do. It’s over now.”

  “It’s not over,” Shelly confessed. “He got away.”

  Jet slammed a fist down on the kitchen table. “He can’t know our secret. I’ll take him out myself.” She took a determined step toward the back door. “Just tell me what direction he went and I’ll find the bastard.”

  Lily stood. “Let me do it. I’ll sing to him. No man can resist me when I sing. It’ll be easier that way, and less violent.”

  “But he’s gone.” Shelly stood, grimaced at the shooting pain in her right foot and sat back down. “Besides, you don’t know what he looks like.”

  Jet faced her, hands on hips. “So. Describe him and the boat.”

  Shelly shook her head and lowered her lashes. “It’s too late to do anything about it now.”

  “So...what? Are we supposed to sit around and chance that he’ll find us?” Jet paced, running her hands through her short hair.

  Lily’s musical voice interrupted. “He doesn’t know who we are. It was dark. A human’s eyesight isn’t as good as ours. We should be safe.”

  Shelly again felt the killer’s fierce eyes boring into hers. “Maybe,” she said doubtfully. “But Bayou La Siryna is a pretty small town and he got a close-up view of my face. What if I run into him on the streets? Will I have to watch my back every day for the rest of my life wondering if he’s recognized me?”

  “We’ll find him first,” Jet said. “Find him and kill him.”

  Shelly regarded her cousin warily. Jet’s bloodthirsty nature surfaced at the first threat of danger to her family. Once aroused, Jet was more like a tiger than a mermaid. She didn’t resemble a typical mermaid anyway with her tall, athletic body and bold brown eyes.

  Lily, on the other hand, was all feminine grace and mystery. A petite but voluptuous body, golden hair to her waist and large ocean-blue eyes that could be kind with her family, coy with the men and a bit calculating with everyone else.

  Lily’s eyes fixed on Shelly as she tapped her full lips with graceful fingers. “We don’t have to find him ourselves. We’ll let the police do it for us.”

  Jet snickered. “They didn’t catch him the first time. What makes you think they will now?”

  The first stirrings of hope warmed Shelly. “Because we’ll lead them to the killer,” she said slowly, with a slight smile at Lily. “I know where the body is and I know what he looks like.”

  Jet was already shaking her head. “We can’t go to the police. No way. They’ll either think we’re the killers or that we’re some kind of accomplices. Besides, what can you tell them? Hey, I was out swimming miles from shore, alone at night, and—guess what?—I found your killer for you.”

  “We can do this,” Shelly said, with more enthusiasm. “I haven’t told you the best part yet. That knife he stabbed me with? I’ve got it. Along with a hat that blew off his head. Maybe with all that, the police can find him.”

  “Those local yokels? Don’t bet on it.” Jet folded her arms across her chest and sighed. “I guess it’s worth a try. But I’m still going to do some searching on my own.”

  “Don’t. Please don’t,” Shelly begged. “I’ve got you both in enough danger already. This is my fault. I have to fix it.” She pictured Sheriff Angier. Remembered his intense aura and tall, lanky body that moved slowly but with deliberation and controlled energy. The few times she’d run into him at the YMCA, picking up his brother, she’d been reluctantly intrigued by him. “Besides, you’re not giving enough credit to our local law enforcement.”

  Jet interrupted Shelly’s thoughts of Sheriff Angier. “Where are this hat and knife?”

  “The shed.”

  “I’m going to get them.” Jet dashed off, ready to take action.

  “Don’t get your fingerprints on anything,” Shelly called out. “Bad enough mine are already on there.”

  Lily placed a hand on top of Shelly’s head. “I’m going to get a towel for your hair, fix you a cup of chai tea and then see to that foot of yours.”

  Lily’s image blurred from unexpected tears. Shelly was overcome with exhaustion as the adrenaline rush left her body. “You and Jet have been so good to me since I came here.”

  “We’re lucky to have you, silly.” Lily bent over and gave her a quick hug. “If you haven’t noticed, Jet can be a real pain to live with sometimes.”

  “Yeah, I kinda noticed.” Lily’s kindness lifted her spirits. “I don’t know what I would do without the two of you.”

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, hair wrapped and sipping chai tea, Shelly watched as Lily finished cleaning the knife wound.

  “It could really use a couple of stitches, but if you’re dead set on not going to the E.R., it ought to heal okay with the butterfly bandage,” Lily said, sitting down at the table with Jet and Shelly, each wearing yellow Playtex gloves.

  “I’m fine.” Shelly lifted the soggy hat Jet had placed on the table. “‘Trident Processing and Packing.’ Terrific. That’s not going to help us find him. Half the people who live here either work in the plant or have relatives who work there.”

  They stared glumly at the white baseball cap with the blue Trident logo emblazoned on the front.

  “It may give the police something to work with,” Lily said.

  Jet picked up the stiletto knife. “This won’t. The make is mass-produced. And thanks to being in the water, I’m not sure there’s going to be fingerprints. Was he wearing gloves?”

  Shelly closed her eyes and pictured the killer, seeing again those burning hate-filled eyes. That was the first thing she would always remember about him. She forced her mind to roam the larger picture, trying to pick up details. She opened her eyes abruptly. “Yes, he wore those heavy rubber gloves up to his elbows that fishermen sometimes wear when it’s cold. But I say the knife could still be a clue for the police.”

  “Don’t see how.” Jet examined the blade. “Don’t see any markings.”

  Shelly watched the metal blade flickering under the chandelier’s light and shuddered. He had used this at least twice now to gouge out the eyes of his victims.

  “Sick bastard.” Jet dropped the knife back on the table. “So we’re in agreement. I’ll retrieve the body and put it on shore for the cops to find.”

  “No. You’re not doing it. I am. I’m the one that got us into this mess. If he comes back I’ll take care of him like I should have done in the first place.” Shelly hoped her voice sounded convincing. She couldn’t kill a human but she could, if necessary, injure the killer and help the police capture him.

  “I’ll do it,” Lily said, rising to her feet. “It will be easier for me since I’ve got the voice that can mesmerize if we run into him. Most useful in sinking a boat.”

  Shelly was startled. Lily sounded as if she had experience in doing just that. Long ago, there were a few pockets of mermaids known for violent protection of their sea territory, but the decrease in the mermaid population coupled with human advances in science and sea travel had forced mermaids to abandon such bold, public tactics. No, Shelly shook her head slightly, she was wound up tonight and reading too much into Lily’s words.

  “Guess it’s going to take all three of us,” Jet reluctantly agreed. “Drive the car to Murrell’s Point and park around the bend. This time of night, teenagers will be making out in parked cars, too busy to notice us. By morning at least, a fisherman will discover the body. When we poke our head out of the water, blink the headlights once if the coast is clear, twice if not. We’ll put it on shore with the knife and hat.”

  “Okay. I’ll tell you exactly where to find the body. It’s secured undersea between two large rocks in that huge limestone outcropping three miles southwest from our house. The dead human smell will lead you right to the victim.” Shelly hesitantly picked up the weapon by its handle. “Maybe we should keep the knife.”

  Her cousins stared at her in surprise.

  “Why would
we want to do that?” Jet asked.

  “Say the police are suspicious of our guy, but there’s no physical evidence to tie him to the murders. We could plant this on him.”

  Jet shook her head. “But I told you, there’s nothing special about this knife. Even if they found it on him it doesn’t prove anything.”

  Shelly smiled—they were buying into her plan to frame the killer instead of tracking him down on their own and meting out their own form of mermaid justice. “Not yet it doesn’t,” she said softly. “But if we learn his identity we could carve his name and the victim’s initials on the blade and plant it for the police to find. They’ll think it’s some kind of sick trophy.”

  Jet blew out a whistle. “That would be some damning evidence.”

  Lily ran a long, manicured fingernail across Shelly’s cheek. “Now you’re thinking like a true, full-blooded mermaid.”

  A tiny prickle of chill ran down Shelly’s spine at the words. She suspected her cousins could be quite ruthless when it came to preserving their secrets. Just how far would they go to protect their hidden mermaid heritage?

  As far as necessary, whispered a tiny voice in her mind.

  Chapter 2

  Close your eyes, all is well

  Seal your mouth, don’t ever tell

  For if you do, shame will come

  Mama’s Boy falls all undone.

  Shelly rolled her shoulders back with determination. Even with no sleep last night, she couldn’t allow fatigue to interfere with her clients’ therapy. And staying focused on her job helped keep the terror at bay when she pictured the killer she’d encountered the previous evening.

  Eddie made a beeline for the water, eyes focused straight ahead to their objective, ignoring his mother three steps behind him, stumbling in designer sandals.

  Shelly moved between Eddie and the pool steps, holding up a vest. “First, we put on our vest, then we get in the water,” she reminded him.

  Eddie reluctantly let Shelly strap it on.

  “He’s too fast for me,” his mom panted as she caught up to them. Mrs. Angier wore black pants and a frilly high-necked white shirt accented with a striking coral necklace. While the rest of the locals sported shorts and T-shirts, Eddie’s mom stood out with her inappropriately elegant attire. The blood-sucking Alabama humidity that had everyone else sweaty and defeated never seemed to affect Portia Angier. “I can’t keep up with Eddie,” she whined, rubbing her temples with a slight wince.

  “No problem,” Shelly assured her.

  It had taken a whole month of once-weekly sessions to get Eddie to accept the water jacket without it being a major ordeal. He was extremely sensitive to the texture of anything against his skin. And it had taken about the same amount of time to stop Eddie from stripping off his bathing trunks the minute he stepped out of the pool.

  Suitably strapped in, Eddie walked down the pool steps and waded around the shallow end, splashing and laughing.

  “Too bad we don’t have an indoor pool at home,” Mrs. Angier said, still rubbing her temples, Donna Karan sunglasses dangling in one hand.

  “Headache?” Shelly asked, getting into the pool with Eddie.

  “The worst. If it’s okay, I’ll head on home and have his brother pick him up.”

  Shelly’s heart did a little flutter. Tillman Angier had a way of making her feel like a lust-crazed teenager. Get a grip.

  “Fine.” She turned to Eddie. “Ready to get started?”

  He was already a step ahead of her. He picked up the kickboard from the side of the pool and began kicking his long legs. Water shot up around him but for all the exertion and noise, he only swam a few feet. “Good job,” Shelly said anyway, and they high-fived.

  Eddie jumped up and down, laughing and spraying water over the side of the pool. Shelly held his hands and they jumped together in mutual delight. The buoyancy and feeling of weightlessness in the water was good for the soul. Besides improving coordination, flexibility and muscle, the warm water provided healing benefits. Shelly speculated that people with a special affinity for water were long-removed descendants of mermaid blood—so far removed they knew nothing of their heritage but were inexplicably drawn to water, especially the ocean.

  She was rewarded with two seconds of eye contact before Eddie looked back down to the clear aqua depths swirling around his body.

  “Time for the ball toss,” she said. She took a twelve-inch beach ball and tossed it to Eddie. Without aiming, Eddie threw it back, the ball landing a good six feet behind her.

  Shelly swam after it and returned to Eddie. “Let’s try again. Throw it to me this time.”

  Eddie slam-dunked the ball in the middle of her face.

  Ouch. Well, she wasn’t specific enough.

  Shelly threw it back and waved her hands in front of her. “Throw it at my hands, Eddie.”

  He did. But after less than half a dozen throws he started humming. A sure sign he was growing impatient. Shelly quickly moved on to another exercise. During the next hour, she alternated coordination tasks with social play. Afterward, she’d return to her office and make notes on his progress. Few things gave her more satisfaction than celebrating clients’ progress.

  “Shoes,” Eddie suddenly called out.

  Shoes was one of Eddie’s code words—it meant someone was here to take him home and he needed to put on his shoes, get dressed and go. She searched the room with more eagerness than necessary.

  Sheriff Angier, in his neatly pressed brown uniform, headed toward them in long strides. His presence filled the room and she was acutely aware of every detail of his strong face...the prominent jaw, the sharp planes of his cheeks and broad forehead. He was as unlike his sibling as much as Jet and Lily were polar opposites. The only common feature of the brothers was the same light brown, slightly wavy hair. She knew Eddie’s age was twenty-eight and that Tillman was several years older than him. Where Eddie was shorter and more compact, and prone to softness in his stomach, Tillman was tall with a well-defined musculature. Unlike Eddie’s vague, unfocused blue eyes and dreamy expression, Tillman’s slate-gray eyes were sharp and penetrating—as if he could see down to the hidden depths she didn’t allow anyone to know about.

  Shelly took a deep breath and hurried after Eddie, who could be pretty darn quick when properly motivated. She reached him just in time. At the last step out of the pool, his hands were already at the top of his bathing trunks.

  “Wait,” she said. “Put on your robe.”

  No sooner had he fastened the robe than the trunks came off.

  Shelly bent to pick up the wet trunks at the same time as the sheriff. His large tanned arm brushed against her smaller, paler arm. Prickles of heat spread from the point of contact to all parts of her body.

  “I’ve got it,” he said in a deep husky voice that warmed her insides.

  They rose together and Shelly fought to control her rapid heartbeat. Here she stood dripping wet with him so polished and sharp in his uniform. She judged him to be in his early thirties, only a few years older than herself, and yet he exuded a natural authority and confidence that befitted his position.

  Shelly sighed inwardly. He had not caught her on her most flattering day. Her huge green eyes, what she considered her most striking feature, were red-rimmed from lack of sleep and her honey-colored hair was nothing but a sodden heap of tangles at the moment.

  “I’ll be right there,” he called to Eddie, who was already halfway to the locker room.

  “Your mom left Eddie’s tote bag of dry clothes over here.” Shelly went to the bleachers, acutely aware of the sheriff following behind. Damn, she should have wrapped a towel around her waist. Toned or not, wet flesh in the light of day made her feel vulnerable. The one-piece bathing suit she wore was modest, but it was still a bathing suit. And her hair was flat and clung to her back in wet chunks. She’d given up on makeup at work. Even the waterproof stuff didn’t hold up to hours in the pool.

  The edge of her bathing suit rode up the
cheek of her left buttocks. Terrific. Shelly fought the urge to pull it down. If she was lucky and left it alone, maybe the sheriff wouldn’t notice.

  She picked up the bag and forced herself to remain professional as she faced Eddie’s brother and held it out.

  His eyes jerked up from her derriere. Oh, crap. She could tell by the darkening of those gray eyes and the ghost of a smile on his lips that he had definitely been checking out her ass. But perhaps that was progress, since he hadn’t paid her much attention before. “Hope your mom is feeling better,” she said with a self-conscious smile.

  His lips thinned and a flicker of annoyance lit his eyes before he slid back into his cool, confident persona. “You’re limping.” He pointed at Shelly’s foot. “An accident?”

  “A minor cut.” She shrugged. “Kitchen mishap.”

  He jerked his head toward the locker room. “I better see if Eddie needs any help.”

  Shelly stared at his back as he walked away, a tiny bit disappointed. The man was definitely not a conversationalist.

  The sheriff whirled around and caught her staring. His lips twitched at the corners.

  “I watched you working with Eddie. You’re doing a great job.”

  “I love working with your brother. He’s my favorite—I know I shouldn’t have any, but he is.”

  “How about you let me take you to dinner Friday in appreciation for all your hard work?”

  Shelly fought not to sound too excited. “Sure.” Please don’t invite your mother, she thought fervently. Don’t let this be a family thing. Nice enough woman, but she wanted the sheriff all to herself. It had been too long since she’d felt any interest in dating again.

  Lurlene Elmore and others from the senior water aerobics class, the Water Babes and Buoys, emerged from the ladies’ locker room.

  “Eddie’s stark naked in our locker room,” Lurlene called out in way of greeting.

  A tinge of red crept up the sheriff’s neck. So he wasn’t perfectly composed at all times, Shelly thought. What a relief.