Far From Shore

by Mark Stone

“You did a good job in there,” was all he said. He didn’t look at me.

  “Boom, I need to talk to you,” I said, nudging his shoulder and motioning out of the room.

  Once we got on the other side, I looked at my friend. “I was talking to Aubrey Cash at the party earlier. She said something that struck me as curious.”

  “Curious how?” Boomer asked.

  “She said something about me fishing bullets out of the bodies of dead girls,” I answered.

  “Okay,” he said.

  “The press wasn’t given that information,” I said. “No one knew that Victoria had been shot. So how would she?”

  Boomer’s face tensed. “It’s Peter, Dil.”

  “I know that,” I answered, though honestly part of me was starting to wonder.

  “Do you?” he asked. “Because, if you do, then I’m confused as to why you’d be asking me more questions about this murder Aubrey Cash found out about the bullet wound the same way a lot of the city found out about Victoria in the first place. Because you pulled her out of the water in plain view of people on a public beach, and because people tend to have a problem keeping their mouths shut, especially Southern people.” Boomer put a hand on my shoulder. “His DNA is on her. It’s in her, Dillon. I know it might be hard, but I need you to let this go.”

  “Something doesn’t add up,” I admitted, shaking my head.

  “Of course not,” he said. “because we don’t have all the facts here. Your brother had a trunk filled with cocaine, and he still hasn’t told us where this woman has been for the last three years. Once we get all that intel out on the table, I promise you it’ll make sense.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Until then, why don’t you take the rest of the night off. I’m sure your grandfather would appreciate actually getting to spend some time with you.” He nodded. “I got it from here.”

  “Okay,” I said, turning to leave the department building. Though I had absolutely no intention of going home. I had questions, and I was going to find the answers.

  Chapter 20

  I knocked on the door of the forensics annex, hoping Emma might still be inside. It was late enough at night that even the sun had called it a day so the place was closed up. Still, I had hope that my former babysitter and our current crime scene investigator and forensic scientist might still be on the clock.

  She was married now, so her schedule had probably been cut back a little in order to spend time with her family, but the woman I knew was nothing short of a workaholic. She loved what she did and put everything into it. Besides, she had just found a pretty substantial break in the form of Peter’s DNA, and that meant there were papers to fill out. I just had to hope that the woman hadn’t decided to put it off until tomorrow.

  The door flung open, with Emma standing on the other side. She narrowed her eyes at me and asked, “What are you doing here and why are you smiling like an idiot?” She shrugged. “You know, aside from actually being an idiot.”

  “I’m just glad you’re here,” I said. “Can I come in?”

  “If you don’t mind dead bodies and the people who eat ham sandwiches over them,” she said, then stepped away and allowed me to enter.

  The forensic annex was a dark and often empty place. For the majority of her time here, Emma had been completely alone. It wasn’t until Jonah joined the team that she found a partner and someone to talk to during the day.

  Emma closed and locked the door behind her. Then, walking toward me, she asked, “What do I owe the pleasure?”

  “That depends?” I asked, shuffling. “Are we alone?”

  “Completely,” she answered. “I got all I needed from Victoria Sands’s body days ago. She’s off at Ethan’s choice of mortuary and Jonah went out to check on his mom.” Emma shook her head. “The woman’s been sick lately. I usually go out to lunch with her at least once every couple of weeks, but I haven’t heard from her lately. Jonah says she’s too under the weather to even answer the phone.”

  “I’ll pray for her,” I said instinctively. While I hated to hear that about Jonah’s mom, I was more concerned about him not being here. He was a good kid, and innocent enough to still get squeamish around a corpse, but I didn’t trust him the way I trusted Emma, and I needed that trust right now.

  “Good,” she answered. “Though I figured you’d have your hands full, what with the discovery about Peter Storm and all.”

  I nodded at her. “Boomer wanted me to take a breather. I guess he thought I was too close to things.”

  “I can see that,” she answered. “So, you just decided to come take a breather with me?” A smile graced her face. “I’m forced to remind you that I’m a married woman now, Dillon. And, even if I wasn’t, I still remember the way you nearly peed yourself after you went against your mother’s wishes and watched the Exorcist all by yourself. I’m afraid there could never be much mystery between us after that.”

  “Understood,” I said, a flush of embarrassment running through me. I had forgotten about that night. It wasn’t one of my proudest moments, especially considering the fact that I was nursing. A major crush on Emma back then. Luckily, it also wasn’t what I was here to talk about. “I wanted to ask you about the DNA results you received, the ones that implicated Peter.”

  “I sent the files up to Boomer,” Emma said, looking around, presumably to see if she could find a copy of them.

  “I’ve seen the files,” I said, motioning for her to stop looking. “This is more about the process in general.”

  “Oh?” she asked, turning to me, obviously confused. “What would you like to know about the process?”

  “Can it be wrong?” I asked, swallowing hard. “And, if so, how often can it be wrong?”

  She dropped her hands to her side and stared at me the way she used to when I was a little kid and she had caught me doing something I definitely wasn’t supposed to.

  “Dillon,” she said, her voice dripping with sympathy.

  “No,” I answered, shaking my head and cutting her point off at its source. “If he did this, then I want to see him prosecuted for it. I want to see him brought to justice, but I’ve got this feeling, Emma. I’ve got a feeling that he’s telling the truth, and I just can’t shake it.” I leaned against a wall. “I know it doesn’t make any sense and I know you’re going to say that I’m looking at this through the lens of family, even if we weren’t raised together. I guess it makes me an idiot, but I just need to know.”

  “It doesn’t make you an idiot,” she answered, walking toward me and leaning against the wall beside me. “It makes you a person, and a damned good one at that.” She sighed. “To answer your question: I’ve been doing this for years, Dillon, and I’ve never seen a false positive, not even once. I know it’s hard to accept that someone who shares your blood could do something like this, but I’m afraid you’re just going to have to. Because it’s true.”

  She put her hand on mine and squeezed it.

  “If it helps to ease the questions in your mind, I can show you the results from their source, what Jonah received from the lab.”

  “Jonah?” I asked. “You didn’t get them yourself?”

  “Nah,” she replied. “It’s one of the best parts about actually having an intern. I don’t have to do any of the grunt work. Not that he’s particularly keen on doing any of it.” She shook her head. “You know, I really thought he was going to be a shoe in at this. Last year, he was so excited at the thought of a future in forensics. Now, it’s like he’s lost all his joy. Especially the last few days. It’s like his head is somewhere else.”

  My curiosity shot up at that.

  “You know, I wouldn’t mind seeing those results firsthand.”

  “Of course,” she answered. “They should be right in his office.”

  She walked toward the far end of the room and twisted the handle on a door in the corner. It didn’t budge.

  “That’s weird,” she mused. “He never locks his office.” She rummaged through her pocket and p
ulled out a copper key. “Lucky for us, I have the master.” Sliding the key into the hole, she twisted the door and opened the room. “Forgive the mess,” she said, walking in. “He was a college student, like, fifteen minutes ago. You know how they can be.”

  I walked in behind her and watched as she headed to the computer. She wasn’t lying about the mess. Papers, empty soda cans and candy wrappers sat strewn everywhere. I remembered my own room back when I was in high school. Aside from the lack of a computer and a poster of Pamela Anderson up on the wall, this was basically a carbon copy. Well, that and the fact that I was never a big candy eater.

  The same couldn’t be said for Jonah. I spied sugar stick wrappers on the floor, gummy bear packages near (but not in) the trash can, and licorice whips with just the tops chewed sitting by his computer.

  A shock of realization ran through me as I looked at them, remembering when I’d seen them the first time. They were the same candies, chewed the same strange way, that I’d seen in Peter’s car the day it tried to run me off the road.

  My heart jumped into my throat. I thought I had it now. I thought I knew what was going on, and it explained everything.

  Chapter 21

  “Call him again,” I said, burning down the highway toward Jonah’s house, with the sirens on and the flashers blaring. My heart was racing and my mind was still aching as I struggled to wrap it around what I now knew to be true.

  “I’ve called him six times, Dillon,” Emma said, looking over at me like I had lost my mind, which was completely reasonable given what I was suggesting. “He’s not answering, which probably means he’s tending to his sick mother.” She nodded firmly at me. “Which absolutely means he doesn’t need the two of us rushing over toward him like the Second Coming spouting accusations with the sirens on.” She shook her head. “Just calm down, and take a second to think. That’s all I ask. You’ll see that what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense.”

  I took a hard right, following my memory toward a house I used to deliver papers during the wee mornings of my youth. The truck jerked hard as it jeered off onto a dirt lane, fishtailing because I simply refused to even consider tapping on the brake. I couldn’t. There wasn’t time, not if what I thought was going on was going on.

  “You think about it, Emma,” I said as she splayed across the front seat briefly before regaining her composure. She glared at me, angry as a hornet as she brushed hair out of her eyes. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. All of this can’t be a coincidence.”

  “I’m not saying it’s a coincidence, Dillon. I’m saying it’s DNA.” She sighed heavily. “What is with you anyway? A few weeks ago, you were foaming at the mouth trying to convict Peter Storm of something he didn’t do, and now you’re tearing up a back road in an attempt to clear him of something he’s obviously responsible for.”

  “Unless he’s not,” I said, an addition that irked Emma so much, she literally clapped her hands together loudly and scooted closer in her seat.

  “Listen to yourself, Dillon!” she shouted, huffing at me like she used to when it was her job to make sure I brushed my teeth and got to bed at a reasonable hour. “You know how serious what you’re suggesting is?”

  “Of course, I do. Why do you think I’m driving like this?” I asked, taking a sharp turn with the same velocity I had just showcased. Emma couldn’t be tricked twice though. Her hand was grasped firmly around the sidebar, stopping her from falling over again.

  “I would assume it’s because you aren’t as well adjusted as I figured you were,” she muttered. “Jonah is a good boy, Dillon. I’ve known him his entire life. I’ve known his mother my entire life. You really think he’s the kind of person who would tamper with DNA evidence?”

  There it was, the meat of my argument. I had to admit that, laid out in front of me like that, it didn’t make a lot of sense. But it had to. This was the only way the pieces floating around in my mind fit together. It was the only way I could make sense of all that had happened, all that was happening right now.

  “I didn’t say he wasn’t a good kid, Emma, and I’m sure his mother is every bit as sweet as I remember her, but people can be bought. I saw it every day when I was up in Chicago.”

  “You’re not in Chicago anymore, Dillon,” she answered sternly with more than a little Southern pride in her voice. “This might be a big city in size, but it’s a small town in its heart. The people who flock down here after they’ve retired or purchase winter homes to get out of the cold are peppered in with people who were born and raised here. Jonah is one of them and I can’t imagine, given what I know about him and how much he loves what he does, that any amount of money would ever be enough to compromise him like that.” She shook her head at me disgustedly. “His father was our pastor, Dillon.”

  “This isn’t a personal attack on him, Emma,” I said, turning down the last road on my way to his house. “At least not in the way you’re taking it. I know this place isn’t Chicago. Why do you think I came back here? I was born here too. I love this place more than any other on God’s green earth, but it doesn’t make me look at it with blinders on. There’s corruption everywhere in the world, Emma, and knowing someone doesn’t make them exempt from it. I’m a damned good detective, and I know what I know. Peter driving a car full of drugs doesn’t make any sense. His registration being switched out doesn’t make any sense, and a person driving his actual car away from me so frantically that they pull out into oncoming traffic doesn’t make any sense.” I swallowed hard. “I told you, the licorice--”

  “The damned licorice, Dillon?” she asked, squinting over at me like I had lost my mind. “You’re basing your entire case on candy?” She shook her head. “So, the kid chews at the top of his Twizzlers. You think he’s the only one?”

  “I think he’s the only one who also had access to the DNA records that put Peter with Victoria at the time of her death and ID her child as his. There’s no other explanation.”

  “There’s one,” she answered, huffing loudly at me. “Your brother just might be a murderer.” She ran the free hand that wasn’t still clenched at the handle through her hair, obviously exhausted with both me and this day. “It wouldn’t be the first kid he’s had out of wedlock. You weren’t here. His marriage barely survived when his wife found out about Isaac. I can promise you that it wouldn’t have made it out of a second incident. Now I don’t know where Victoria has been for the past three years and I don’t know how all of this connects to her disappearance and the drugs in Peter’s car, but I’m sure it’s more feasible than rushing over to Jonah’s house in the middle of the night and accusing him of committing a felony.”

  “I do,” I said flatly. “I know what the drugs have to do with it.” I whipped into Jonah’s long gravel driveway and tore up toward his house. “I spoke with Aubrey Cash back at Storm House. She made her husband’s intentions very clear. They want Peter out as CEO of Storm Industries. Richard Cash very likely has the votes and the capital to both ascend to that stage and pick up the shares of the company my brother would be forced to shed after being tossed out.” The house came into view, an older model farmhouse with peeling white paint and a cinderblock shed in the back. Luckily, Jonah’s car was in the driveway. “Peter was leaving the Cash mansion the night before he was pulled over, and I looked it up. The Cashes own a property down Arbor road, where I saw Peter’s actual car headed. They planted the drugs in his car and, when that looked like it was going to fall through, they used Jonah to help them pin Victoria’s death on him, forcing him out for sure. Peter’s secretary called me earlier saying that the board is in the middle of emergency meeting at this very moment to discuss the future of the company, and guess who’s leading the charge?” I shook my head. “Don’t even get me started on the fact that Richard and Victoria were romantically involved before her disappearance.”

  “What?” Emma asked, narrowing her eyes. “Ethan’s wife was having an affair with Richard Cash?” Emma blinked hard. “It doesn’t m
atter. An affair doesn’t mean anything other than the fact that the pair of them had some work to do ethically. That’s not proof, Dillon,” Emma said, though she seemed to have calmed down a little now that she saw we were here and there was no talking me out of bringing this to Jonah’s attention. “Besides, what you’re saying doesn’t explain everything. For your theory to pan out, Jonah would have had to be in cahoots with the Cash couple before the drug charges were suspended on your brother, because that’s when you found the car with the licorice in it. And what on earth does that have to do with Victoria Sands and a three-year-old disappearance? Do you really think the Cash couple kidnapped a woman, held her captive somewhere for three years and then murdered her just in an attempt to take your brother’s piece of a company I’m not even sure they had an interest in at the time?”

  I skidded to a stop in the driveway, pushing my door open and looking back at Emma. “I don’t have all the answers, Emma. I’ll admit that, but I know enough to know that I need to follow this to its conclusion. Whether you want to believe it or not, Jonah is involved in this. It’s the only thing that makes sense and, once I confront him about it and he comes clean, I can stop the Cashes from stealing my brother’s company and framing him for a murder he didn’t commit.”

  I slammed the door and rushed toward the house. Never one to be outdone, I heard Emma’s door open and close quickly, followed by frantic footsteps following my own.

  She was confused about all of this, and more than a little apprehensive. I couldn’t blame her about that. In truth, I could barely believe what I was saying myself. My brother wasn’t a good man and, in nearly any other instance, I probably wouldn’t be defending him. Still, it wasn’t my job to decide who did or did not deserve my efforts. I was entrusted by the good people of Naples with a badge on my chest and the gun on my hip. They meant I had an obligation to find the truth and to bring justice to whomever might be bold or foolish enough to threaten the peace of our little slice of coastal paradise.