I stared over the horizon as the boat picked up speed. It was rugged out here with open expanses of water. Beaches—some with sand, others packed with marsh grass—beckoned exploration. On occasion, I spotted rocky jetties and old pilings with seagulls on top and trawlers surrounded by swarms of birds.
“Can you tell me what my father’s life was like here?” I was ashamed for the words to leave my lips. I should know this information, but I didn’t. I’d been too wrapped up in myself.
Charlie took a long sip from his thermos. “It was simple, and that was the way he liked it. He worked five days a week for me. We did three tours a day. In the morning, afternoon, and at sunset. Sunsets were always the most popular. When he wasn’t working, I know he enjoyed attending the community church in Nags Head.”
“What about friends? Did he spend time with anyone in particular?”
Charlie let out a slow breath, maneuvering the boat around some crab pods. “That’s a good question. I do believe there was a man he’d recently befriended. They met at Sea Oats and Berries for breakfast some.”
“Do you remember anything about him?”
“He ran a nonprofit of some sort. They wanted to reach out to some of the international workers around here.”
“Bert, you mean?”
Charlie snapped his fingers. “That’s right. He’s the one. Oh, and he met with a writer once.”
“A writer? Why?” This was the first I’d heard of that.
“I’m not sure. She was a younger lady. She had a funny haircut. Short in the back and long up front. It was funny colors also.”
Realization rang in my ears. The writer from Oh Buoy. Alexa was her name, if I remembered correctly. Funny that she’d never mentioned meeting my dad. I needed to track her down.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the photo of my mother. “How about her? Have you ever seen her?”
He studied the picture a moment before shaking his head. “No, I don’t reckon I have. Pretty lady. Joey, you don’t think there’s anything criminal going on here, do you?”
“I’m not sure. I’d like to believe there’s not. And I know my father was a good man, so I don’t believe he got involved in anything illegal on his end. I just wonder if he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Charlie remained quiet.
“Do you know something?” I asked.
“It’s probably nothing.”
“Please share. I need to help my dad if he needs help.”
He pressed his lips together and finally nodded. “Okay, but take it for what it’s worth.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“I can tell you this: your father insisted on working here late. On closing up the shop. I didn’t think much of it. My wife was recovering from hip-replacement surgery at the time, and I thought he just wanted to help me out. And he probably did.” He tugged on his hat again. “But I came back late one night. I’d forgotten some paperwork about my wife’s surgery.”
I gripped the metal support, even though my hand was freezing. “What did you see, Charlie?”
“It was probably nothing. But he was down at the docks, talking to some men who seemed less than approachable, if you catch my drift.”
My stomach tightened. “They looked like trouble?”
He nodded. “I’d never seen them around here before, and I can’t imagine what kind of business they might have had here so late. Anyway, he seemed upset.”
“Did he see you?”
Charlie shook his head. “No, he didn’t.”
“Did you ever ask him about it?”
“Maybe I should have, but I figured it wasn’t any of my business. He’d been a bit obsessed over some activity that had been taking place lately on the water at night.”
“What do you mean?”
“Most people fish in the daylight, though there are exceptions. Lately, there’s just been a lot of activity out there in the evenings. Boaters aren’t using lights even. It’s unusual, and it bothered your father. He asked about it several times.”
“And you told him?”
Charlie shrugged. “I told him with the popularity of all those fishing shows, maybe people were just trying to emulate what they’re seeing on TV. It doesn’t take much to make people act foolish. I didn’t think a lot of it.”
“Is that activity still going on?” I asked.
“Some. I’m not here late very often.”
I shifted, trying to phrase my next question very carefully. “Is there any reason you didn’t mention this earlier when we spoke? You only said he didn’t seem like himself in the days before he disappeared.”
“I try to stick to the facts, and I didn’t want to worry you for nothing. Those men . . . they seemed like they were up to no good. They’re not the type I think should be messed with. I saw them again the other day, and it jogged my memory.”
Maybe I was finally on to something. “How about the girl who died in this area four months ago—Anastasia? Did my dad ever say anything about her?”
“Everyone did. Her murder was the talk of the town for a while. Her body was found not far from here, you know.” He pointed in the distance. “In that cove right over there. At first it looked like she’d been wrapped up in a fishing net, but the medical examiner discovered she was actually strangled.”
I shivered at the thought. “That’s terrible. Do you think we could get closer to that cove?”
Charlie pressed his lips together before shrugging. “I’ll get as close as I can.”
He slowed and puttered up close to the shoreline. However, there was still a good three feet of water between the boat and the shore.
“If I go any closer, I’ll run ashore.”
“I’d like to take a walk. Would that be okay?”
“Have at it.”
Despite my good sense, I took off my shoes, rolled up my jeans, and stepped into the icy water. I closed my eyes as my feet instantly began to ache. Was this really worth it? I had to believe it was, even if it was just so I could satisfy my curiosity.
I finally reached the shore. The ache in my feet didn’t subside. Despite that, I walked across the sand. Thick marsh grass bordered it, and I’d guess during high tide the whole area was covered in water.
I stared across the vast, mostly barren expanse. There, in the midst of the windswept landscape, stood a gnarled, weather-bare tree. I’d seen that tree before.
In the picture I’d found of my mother.
This very spot was where my dad had seen my mom.
I glanced around the isolated panorama surrounding me. Why had my mom been here? Had my dad stumbled across her, or had they arranged a meeting at this remote location?
I studied the picture more closely. It almost looked like it had been taken from the distance. From the boat? Nothing made sense.
I paced the shoreline, looking for any type of clue I might find. From the distance, this beach had looked untouched. But up close, the sand had obviously been disturbed. There were marks in it that weren’t natural. What was this beach being used for?
I stopped as the sand ended and marsh grass took over. I couldn’t traverse past this area. Plus, I needed to get warm.
I waded back to the boat, dried off with a towel Charlie handed me, and quickly pulled my Converse back on.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Charlie asked.
I bit down. “I’m not sure.”
“Joey, I’m not sure what you’re thinking, but you should tread carefully.”
“What do you mean?”
Charlie tugged his hat again. “Joey, these waters are the perfect place for someone to disappear. There are miles and miles of nothing. And I’ve always had this nagging feeling that your father was in trouble.”
I tried to put Charlie’s words out of my mind for the rest of the boat ride, but it was hard. I didn’t want to think about my dad’s body being found at the bottom of the ocean. I wanted to think he’d forgotten all of his good sense and sim
ply left to live in the Caribbean with the woman of his dreams. I’d be mad at him for not telling me, but at least I could rest assured knowing he was happy . . . and alive.
Maybe there was something deep inside me that knew that wasn’t the most likely case. I knew my dad well enough to know he wouldn’t do that. If he left without telling anyone, he had a good reason. I just hoped he’d had a choice in the matter. I prayed that it wasn’t because he was . . .
I could barely even complete the thought. I wouldn’t think it. I wouldn’t believe it.
My dad was alive, and I was going to find him.
Charlie seemed to sense that I needed to change the subject, so he started giving me a tour of the area. He told me how five different sounds came together here in the area where the boat was. He pointed out a house that had been built on a little island in the middle of the sound, one that was only accessible by boat. He told me interesting facts about the Bodie Island lighthouse in the distance, starting with the fact it was pronounced “body.” Who would’ve thunk it?
We even saw two dolphins swimming behind us, in the wake of the boat. He told me how the fin of each dolphin was as unique as our fingerprints. How scientists in the area were able to identify more than three hundred distinctive bottlenose dolphins in the Roanoke Sound and had even named them, including the famous “Onion,” whose fin had been mangled by a boat propeller. It was all fascinating.
I could totally picture my father doing this. Telling these tales. Listening to new ones shared by tourists or locals who wanted to look at the area from a different perspective. I imagined how the delighted squeals of kids on the boats would make my father smile. I pictured him talking about fishing and telling about their latest catches.
All of this seemed just like my dad.
I wiped away a tear.
Finally, it was time to go back to the dock. My hands were frozen. I’d long since poured my coffee out and thrown away the cup—without Charlie seeing, of course. And those nose icicles I’d seen on other people at the Polar Plunge? I hoped I didn’t have any now.
Once we docked, I climbed off the boat and stepped into the chilly gray outdoors. Charlie and I walked silently back to his business shack, and I thanked him for his time today.
“You’re welcome, Joey. Your father thought the world of you, and I can see why.”
Tears rushed to my eyes again. Could that be true? After everything I’d put him through? “Thank you.”
My voice cracked as I said the words. Inside, I just felt so broken and unlovable. That was the root of my problem, wasn’t it? Eric’s lies had gone deeper inside me than I thought. Had he caused irreparable harm? Until I fixed the messy parts of me, I would never truly be ready to love again, no matter how great the person was.
I started back to my car, mulling over everything I’d learned today. Before I climbed in, I paused and glanced around the marina one more time. Fishermen came in with their catches of the day. Another man pulled crab pods from a boat. Two others walked past talking something about barracudas.
It was all fascinating, an entirely different side of life than what I was used to. But what did it have to do with my dad? What had he discovered? Why had he felt the need to hire a PI to watch me?
I was certain that all those questions would lead to no good.
As I unlocked my car, a woman in the distance caught my eye. She strode from one of the larger buildings on the waterfront, one with huge fishing boats docked out front. Like a woman on a mission, she headed toward a sedan in the gravel lot.
I probably wouldn’t have noticed her if it wasn’t for the utility-style pants she wore and the way her hair was pulled into a tight bun.
Was this the woman Shawn had seen at Max Anderson’s rental? Maybe it was a long shot. Maybe I was seeing things I wanted to see and making something out of nothing. But I needed to know.
My somberness suddenly lifted.
Military Woman paused as a man stepped from the sedan.
I blinked, certain I wasn’t seeing this correctly. Hal. Was that Hal?
They talked a couple of minutes before he handed her something. Was that a . . . a camera?
Military Woman examined it a moment before reaching into her pocket and shoving something into his hand. Money?
I froze. The last time I’d seen something like this take place here at this very spot, it had ended up being an eBay transaction. I had to be careful not to read too much into this.
Whom was I kidding? I was totally going to read as much into this as I pleased.
As quickly as the exchange happened, Military Woman and Hal both hopped back into their respective cars and pulled away.
I hopped into my car as well. I had to follow . . . someone.
Chapter Twenty-Three
As Military Woman climbed into her sedan, I climbed into my Miata. I counted to ten before following after her. After my last fiasco in following someone, I’d decided to look up some tips so I wouldn’t be so obvious. My red sports car didn’t help.
To my surprise, the woman took the first right turn after the marina area. I held my breath, realizing I could be putting myself in a precarious position. After all, this road most likely ended at water, which would mean I’d be exposed. My covert tailing would become obvious tailing, which pretty much would render it invalid.
I gripped the wheel. Fear might keep me alive, but it wouldn’t help me find any answers. Either I was all in, or I was out. Right now, I was as immersed in this investigation as Zane had been in the ocean during the Polar Plunge.
I stayed a safe distance behind Military Woman, far enough back that her car disappeared around a bend in the road. I hoped I didn’t lose her. I passed a couple of houses before spotting a restaurant ahead.
A restaurant? Out here? Surprising.
Then I saw the sign up top. Shipwreck Bay Café. The seafood company had its own restaurant. Cozy.
Military Woman’s sedan was both parked outside and empty, which led me to believe she must have already gone in.
I had to go after her. She shouldn’t recognize me. And the parking lot was full, which meant it was probably a tasty restaurant and it would be easier to blend in among the patrons inside.
With that decided, I parked. I pushed up my aviator sunglasses and pulled my black knit hat down lower on my head. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to wear this outfit, because I was more recognizable as Raven this way.
Regardless, I stepped into the restaurant and paused. A few people looked up from their tables and gave me a double take. Several people whispered. But no one rushed me. That was good.
I scanned the place again. Where had the woman gone? The bathroom?
She definitely wasn’t in the dining area.
I observed the restaurant a moment while I waited to see if she emerged.
Simple would be an understatement to describe the inside. Patrons ordered at a counter, picked it up at a window, and utilized disposable silverware. Plastic tables normally used outside constituted the dining area inside. It smelled like a fish market—because it was—but despite what some people might consider flaws, the place was packed.
My Hollywood friends would have turned up their noses if they saw me eating in here now. Even though I could get fish and fries for only six dollars, they thought it was better to pay twenty dollars for two ounces of raw fish with some uncooked vegetables.
I waited near the door for several minutes, pretending to be interested in some local hot sauce. When the woman still didn’t appear, I realized I had to change course.
I scanned the restaurant one more time before stepping outside. What if she hadn’t gone in? It was a possibility.
On the other side of the building was Shipwreck Bay Seafood. I could only assume that the fresh catches of the day came in here, where they were sorted and cleaned and whatever else happened to them.
Out of curiosity, I climbed from the covered porch and walked around the corner. A cluttered view of the harbor came into s
ight. I said cluttered because there were crab pots and buoys and mounds of oyster shells and a pier that appeared to be half fallen into the water. Fishermen yelled at each other while carrying bushels of something up to the shore.
Fascinating. Really fascinating. It reminded me of scenes from the movie The Perfect Storm.
Before I could dwell on it any more, someone suddenly slammed into me, throwing me back against the building. I hadn’t caught my breath, when someone flung me behind an outdoor shed, well out of sight.
When the stars finally left my eyes, I realized who was attacking me.
“Why are you following me?” Military Woman pinned me against the back of the building. Her nostrils flared, her eyes looked buggy, and she was entirely stronger than I’d imagined her to be. She was thin but ripped, and I’d guess her to be a few years older than I. She was like Sigourney Weaver in Aliens.
Wood shards pricked into my back. “Who said I was following you?”
“Don’t play stupid with me,” she seethed. “You followed me here.”
“I was going to get something to eat.” I refused to let myself quiver under her glare. I’d had a lot of practice with that with Jackson, so at least I could thank him for the skill.
“So why’d you come back here?”
I glanced beyond her, trying to pull an answer out of thin air. “To get a glimpse of the water. It’s beautiful.”
She raised an eyebrow, obviously not buying it. “It looks like a dump from here.”
I swallowed hard. “It has character, in a shabby chic kind of way.”
She glared at me another moment before dropping her arm from my chest, where she had me pinned. I stepped away from the building behind me and rolled my shoulders.
“Now that we’ve cleared that up, I should go—” I started.
“Not so fast.” She shoved me back.
Instead of letting fear flash in my eyes, I gave an aloof, cold nod. Hopefully she didn’t see my knees knocking together uncontrollably. “What do you want? I answered your questions.”
Reign of Error (The Worst Detective Ever Book 2) Page 14
