Changing Tides

by Veronica Mixon

  Nathan squeezed my hand. “Keep walking.”

  My heart raced. “Why? The mailbox said thirty-two. This is the house.”

  “Walk.” He tugged me along. “Look straight ahead. I want to check out the back first.”

  The treeless property next door to Norwich’s house offered an unobstructed view of Norwich’s back yard. The rain had eased to a steady drizzle and our visibility had improved, but I estimated the wind still clocked forty miles per hour.

  Norwich’s brown plastic trash receptacle lay on its side. It looked as if raccoons had foraged inside and scattered garbage across his sandy patch of grass. “Stay behind this bush.” Nathan pointed to an azalea plant so scraggly it wouldn’t hide a three-year-old. He disappeared around the corner. Seconds later I heard him pounding on Norwich’s front door. Either Norwich wasn’t around, or he slept exceptionally sound. Either way, I wasn’t leaving until I’d checked every corner of this house for Owen.

  The pounding stopped, and Nathan returned. “Let’s check the back door.” He grabbed my hand and dashed across the yard and up the steps. He manhandled the door, but the deadbolt held. “I need a warrant to get inside.”

  The top half of the door was jalousie windows. I pulled out my gun and smashed the bottom pane.

  Nathan wrestled the Glock from my fingers. “That stunt could cost me my job.”

  I stuck my hand through, turned the deadbolt and opened the door. “Broken glass on the steps. Door open. Looked suspicious to me.”

  “You watch too many detective shows.” He glanced left, then right, and shoved me inside.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Nathan shoved Kate behind him, and swept Norwich’s enclosed porch, then the kitchen. Even in bad lighting, he was struck by the shabbiness. Peeling paint, grease stains on faded Formica counters; the odor of days-old garbage assaulted his senses. He stopped in the middle of the kitchen and listened for sound.

  Kate barreled into his back.

  He gave her the universal sign to stay put and stepped to an open closet. Sensing heat behind him, he swiveled and stared into Kate’s green eyes. He put a finger to his lips and held his palm out. Even semi-trained puppies recognized a stay hand signal.

  He didn’t think anyone was home, but putting a civilian at risk meant following protocol—although protocol had sunk into the depths of the muddy river the moment he let Kate board the flats boat.

  Nathan studied a half-eaten sandwich and two empty Ranch Doritos bags littering a folding table pushed against the front window. He finger-tested the bread, and then sniffed the ham. By his estimate, the meal had been prepared within the last forty-eight hours.

  He checked the hall, the bathroom, canvassed both bedrooms, verified they were unoccupied. “All clear.” He returned to the bedroom with the king-sized bed.

  “This is interesting.” Kate handed him a congratulations letter from Clemson Athletics for Dennis Norwich, the younger of the two brothers.

  He knelt and picked up a photo on the floor. It showed a couple standing on a deserted beach. The man was David Norwich, Calvin’s dive boat captain. He flipped it over and read the message scrawled on the back.

  Skinny, thanks for an awesome day. Luv, Sharon.

  He handed the photo to Kate. “Do you recognize him?”

  “I remember the snake tattoo. He was on the dive boat. He scared Owen,” she said.

  Nathan knew the guy’s face and the tattoos. His file included a dossier and photos. “Guy’s a low-baller in the Cabral army.” He slipped the photo into his jeans pocket. “Come on. Norwich isn’t here.”

  They left the house the same way they’d entered and fast-walked down the dirt road.

  “Neighbors might’ve seen Norwich,” Kate said. “They’d know if he brought anyone here the last couple of days.”

  “The younger Norwich brother washed up two days ago, and his body’s still at the coroner’s office. I imagine the older brother’s hanging close by.” If this drug-running two-bit shrimper had picked up Roslyn and Owen, Nathan would roust every person in this fishing village to find him. Nathan pointed to a white and blue doublewide. “Lights were on when we passed. Let’s see if they’ve seen Norwich.”

  A blonde woman he guessed to be in her mid-forties stood in the front window holding a coffee cup. A wrap-around wood deck led to the mobile home’s front door.

  “Let me ask her. When you’re focused, you’re a little scary.” Kate passed him and walked to the door.

  Nathan scrambled after her. “Don’t mention I’m a marshal. Don’t say anything about the kidnapping. People don’t like to get involved. Nice easy chitchat.”

  Kate nodded and knocked.

  The woman at the window opened the door, and screwed her eyes into two tight lines. “You all stranded, honey?”

  “No, ma’am.ˮ Kate beamed a phony smile. “Just trying to locate one of your neighbors.”

  “Well, come in out of the rain.” The woman waved them inside. No hesitation, smooth brow, and her smile appeared genuine and open. “I’ll have to get out my mop if this door stays open any longer.”

  Kate shed her rain slicker and left it on the porch, as did Nathan. The aroma of kerosene, cigarette smoke, and coffee filled the air of the kitchen.

  The woman wore a faded blue robe and fuzzy gray flip-flop slippers. Remnants of her former beauty lingered if you didn’t stare too long. She held a half-smoked cigarette between her fingers. “Who’d you say you were looking for?”

  “David Norwich,” Kate said.

  The woman redirected smoke through her nose. “You mean Skinny?”

  Kate shrugged. “Is that what people call him?”

  “People call that boy a lot of things.” Her gaze flicked back and forth between them. She crossed an arm over her midsection, a protective gesture. Either David Norwich, or their asking about him, made this woman uneasy.

  Nathan stepped forward, held up the photograph he found in the house. “Is this Skinny?”

  She studied the picture. Her eyes flashed with recognition. “Yeah, that’s him.” She tapped the woman in the photo. “Put that girl in the hospital. Busted a couple of ribs, broke her arm.”

  Kate shuddered.

  “Heard the girl moved back to Wisconsin.” She took a step back. “You two cops?”

  She didn’t want to get involved. Probably didn’t want to cross Norwich. He waited a beat for Kate to respond, and then realized she was somewhere else. “No, ma’am. My name’s Nathan. And this is Kate. She lives across the river. I’m sorry, we didn’t ask your name.”

  The woman removed her cigarette, and smiled. “Susie Campbell.” She stuck the cigarette back in her mouth. “No offense, but I don’t believe you aren’t cops. No other reason a couple of dandies like you two would be out in this weather looking for Skinny Norwich.”

  Susie met his gaze straight on. She might be hesitant to get involved, but her hands moved freely, and she stood at ease. If she thought he was a cop, she didn’t seem overly concerned that he’d knocked on her door.

  “We need to ask Skinny a few questions is all,” he said.

  “Well, good luck. That boy hasn’t said more than a handful of truths since he slunk back home after flunking out of college. Ever since, he’s been as mean as a pissed-off moccasin.”

  Kate inhaled a ragged breath at the pissed moccasin comment.

  He wrapped his fingers around her hand. “Your coffee smells great. Is there anyway Kate could have a cup? She’s wet and a little chilled.” Helping others often calmed people. And if Kate drank slow, they’d have a reason to stick around and probe for more information.

  Susie removed the percolator from the camp stove, held an empty cup in Nathan’s direction. “How about you?”

  “That’d be great,” he said.

  Nathan leaned close to Kate’s ear. “Drink slow, and just play along.”

  She nodded, ran a shaking hand over her lips.

  Susie handed Kate her cup, then gave Nathan
his.

  He sipped his coffee. “This sure hits the spot. You have any idea where we might find Skinny?”

  She glanced at the clock on the stove. “Might try Jake’s pace in about an hour. Jake said he’d open by six unless the storm blew away his bar.”

  “Jake’s?”

  “Bar down on the bluff where I waitress. When the Norwich boys aren’t shrimping, they spend most of the day and night playing pool and getting drunk.”

  Kate placed her full cup on the counter. “Was Skinny at the bar night before last?” Nathan heard the edge of desperation in her voice.

  “Yeah,” Susie said. “In the back, playing pool. I remember because he had two visitors.”

  Kate stepped closer. “Male or female?”

  “Male,” Susie said. “And both of them dandies.”

  Nathan shook his head. “Sorry?”

  “A Savannah snooty. One fellow came in wearing a suit. Don’t see that every day at Jake’s.” She eyed Nathan. “As tall as you, maybe taller. The second fellow was more casual like. He wore jeans and a flannel shirt, but his boots gave him away.”

  “How so?” Nathan asked.

  Susie placed her cigarette in the ashtray, picked up a dishcloth and wiped down the counter. “They weren’t shrimping boots. This guy’s boots were brown leather, the kind you see in fancy hunting magazines.”

  “Did you happen to catch a name for either one of the men?” Nathan asked.

  “Sugar, I didn’t ask. The first one, a tall good-looking fellow, skedaddled out with Skinny before I made it back to the table. That was about midnight.”

  Nathan could almost see Kate’s brain working through the timeline. “Could you be more exact about the time?” Nathan asked.

  Susie picked up her pack of Benson and Hedges and considered Kate.

  “Susie.” Nathan waited until her eyes met his. He placed both hands on the back of the kitchen chair and leaned in her direction to establish confidence. “It’s really important.”

  She cut her eyes at Kate, and then to Nathan. She popped the Benson and Hedges pack against her palm, drew out a cigarette, and reached for her lighter. “Well, let’s see. Skinny always orders nachos on the kitchen’s last call.” She put a fresh cigarette in her mouth, noticed the last one burning in the ashtray and stubbed it out. “That’d be around eleven-thirty. So I’d say Mr. Elegant turned up a little past midnight, and they took off.” She lit the fresh cigarette.

  “You said he had two visitors,” Nathan said.

  “Earlier in the day, he was playing pool with a group of construction fellows on their lunch break and fancy boots came in. I asked him if he wanted a drink, he said no, and that was the extent of our talking. He and Skinny left right after.”

  Kate slid her cell out of her pocket. She skimmed through several screens. “Is this one of the men?”

  Susie took the phone. “Yep. That’s Fancy Boots.” She handed the phone back to Kate.

  Kate showed Nathan the photo of Joseph Lafferty on the company website.

  Nathan finished his cup, walked to the sink, and rinsed it out. “I’d like to leave you my phone number and if you see Skinny, I’d appreciate a call.”

  Susie took a step back. “I ain’t going to cross those Norwich boys.”

  Nathan nodded. “I understand. I appreciate your time and the information.” Nathan moved to the door, held it open for Kate, picked up their rain slickers, and handed Kate hers. They slipped them on, but since the rain had all but stopped, left the hoods dangling.

  Kate glanced back. “Thank you for the coffee, Susie.” She turned and cleared the porch steps first. “Susie recognized Joseph’s picture. He’s back.” Relief laced in fear reverberated through her voice.

  “I want to check out Norwich’s vessel,” Nathan said.

  The condition of the shrimp boat matched Norwich’s house. Peeling paint, dirty ropes, broken gaffs scattered over the deck.

  Nathan headed straight for the helm. Starting with the storage compartments, he combed through and found nothing but empty beer cans. “Let’s go below.” He used his phone to light the narrow passage. The skeleton smelled of fish guts and cigarette smoke.

  “Check the lockers.” Nathan poked through torn nets on the floor, and upended buckets.

  Kate slammed through several cabinets. “There’s nothing here but old candy wrappers and more beer cans.” She leaned against a cabinet. “Where is he? Where did he take Owen?”

  Nathan’s instinct that Roslyn was a partner in this kidnapping still held; his gut said Kate’s mother was in control. But what if he was wrong? Nathan wrapped his arm around Kate’s shoulders. “There’re too many coincidences for this guy not to be connected in some way. I’m not giving up. You can’t either. Let’s check the bridge again. Maybe I missed something.”

  Beside the helm, Nathan spotted a closet with a new lock. The door had three hinges corroded in rust. “Any shine on this boat is suspect.ˮ

  He picked up a wrench and swung. The first hinge broke. After five more pops, the remaining two hinges slipped sideways, and he pushed the door away.

  Joseph Lafferty landed face up. A small neat hole penetrated his forehead. He wore jeans, a red flannel shirt, and boots, the kind you might find in a fancy hunting magazine.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I stared at Joseph Lafferty’s lifeless body. His face, pale and dusty, was like an unfinished piece of greenware waiting for a kiln.

  A symmetrical hole pierced his forehead. A sharpshooter’s bull’s-eye that slid past hair, skin, muscle, smashing into his brain. A brain that leaked from his skull. The pungent gagging odors of rotting meat and sweet dollar-store perfume slithered up my nose.

  A wail lodged in my lungs and exited as a groan. I turned away, unable or unwilling to comprehend the scene. Then I raced over nets and ropes and broken gaffs.

  “Kate, wait…” Nathan words jumbled together as if they ran on the wrong speed.

  I kicked an empty bucket, clamored to the top of a storage bin, and grabbed the bottom rung of the ladder.

  Nathan encased my waist and pulled me back to the deck. “Breathe.” His warm hands grasped my cheeks. “Breathe.”

  I couldn’t breathe.

  “Take a breath. You’re okay.”

  I collapsed against him, buried my face in his neck. “Oh God. Oh my God.” My chest tightened, like a vice squeezing air from one lung, then the other.

  Nathan held me at arm’s length. “I have to secure the body.”

  “I can’t go back.” Nathan’s face blurred into Joseph’s. My body screamed flight. “I can’t look again.”

  Nathan lowered me to the storage bin. “Sit here. I’ll work fast.”

  I cradled my swimming head and tried blocking the image from my brain.

  Skinny must’ve shot Joseph.

  If Joseph was dead, and Skinny had Owen—

  I leaped up. My head whirled. Blinding stars of light pirouetted inches from my eyes. I slid to the floor. A flash of blue and red flickered in my periphery, like a ghost playing hide-and-seek. I squeezed my eyes shut, opened them, looked again, and my heart ricocheted against the wall of my chest.

  I crawled across the floor, pushed the handle of a rusted gaff away, and yanked out a ball cap. Owen’s ball cap.

  I screamed, a guttural ache.

  I pushed off the floor and jumped to the jetty. I stumbled, landed on my knees and clambered across the rough boards. I clutched Owen’s cap in my hand.

  My son was here. Somewhere.

  My foot caught. I kicked.

  “Don’t kick me!” Nathan gripped my calf.

  I shook the cap in his face. “It’s Owen’s!”

  He massaged a red welt growing on his chin. “I have to call in and report Lafferty’s body. I’ll request an APB on Norwich.” Phone in hand, he stood and turned a slow circle. “No service. Susie had a landline in her kitchen.”

  I ran and didn’t stop until we turned up Susie’s drive.


  She met us at the door. “Where’s the fire?”

  “I need to use your landline,” Nathan said.

  “My what?”

  Nathan sidestepped Susie, picked up her phone and punched the numbers. “Sheriff Schroeder, please.”

  I stood beside him, rubbed the heel of my hand across my sternum to slow my breath.

  “Can you patch me through?” Nathan said.

  Susie pulled out a kitchen chair. “Sit down, sugar. You look ready to fall over. What in the world happened?”

  My mind couldn’t string a coherent thought.

  “Ya’ll tussle with Dennis? ’Cause something’s sure up that boy’s craw.” She walked to the refrigerator and removed a pitcher of tea. “I was just about to call your man when I saw you running up the drive. He lit out of here like there’s no tomorrow.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  Susie set three empty glasses on the counter. “Dennis, Skinny’s brother.”

  Nathan spun around. “You saw Norwich?”

  She nodded. “About ten minutes ago. He barreled down the road on his motorcycle.”

  Nathan’s crime scene photo of Skinny’s brother Dennis, the bloated torso with the missing arm, flashed in my head. “It couldn’t have been Dennis because…” My reasoning stuttered to a stop. “It was Skinny.”

  Nathan raised his index finger, still on the phone. “Willie. I’m in Hidden Cove and we have another DB.” He opened the door and stepped outside.

  A few seconds later, he stepped back into the kitchen. “Willie’s ten minutes away. I need to meet him at the dock. And Jonathan texted he’ll be at Spartina within the hour. I’ll ask one of Willie’s officers to drive you over. I’ll follow as soon as I can.”

  I moved to his side. “We need to check Skinny’s house again.”

  Nathan held my shoulders. “Skinny didn’t bring Owen and Roslyn to Hidden Cove on a motorcycle.” He released his hands and stepped off the porch. “But if it’ll ease your mind, I’ll walk through Norwich’s house again. The best thing you can do for Owen is to meet with Jonathan and answer his questions. We need the GBI team on board as soon as possible.” He sprinted down the drive.