by Mark Stone
My heart fell as I watched the both of us leave on the tape. Then I saw the time stamp.
“Five minutes to midnight,” I muttered. “It took me at least ten minutes to get him home.” I looked over to Jack, my mouth agape. “He might have been pretending to be drunk, but he couldn’t have taken Tanya.” I blinked. “We just proved he’s innocent.”
Chapter 14
"What happens now?" Daisy asked me, holding a mug of coffee in cupped hands and staring at me from across her dinner table.
I had spent longer in this woman's house (or, more aptly, with my boat at the marina just down from her house) for longer than I intended to. When I got here, my intention was just to sit through my grandfather's ridiculous party, be as pleasant as possible, and head back home to life as usual in Naples.
All that went to hell when Tanya went missing though and, because of that, I had gotten to know this woman better than I ever imagined I would.
She was a sweet lady; spunky in a way that reminded me of my grandfather, and exceptionally willing to speak her mind. As I watched them interact, it became clear to me that- if Boomer's insistence that this woman was my grandfather's girlfriend wasn't true, it probably should be.
She never let him get away with anything, she kept him on his toes and, more importantly than anything else, she kept a smile on his face.
She'd have probably been busy doing just that now if current events hadn't taken our conversation down much darker paths.
"I gave the DVD to Anchor," I answered, taking a sip from my own coffee mug. The sugared and creamed concoction felt good passing my lips and warming my throat and stomach. Taking a deep breath, I added, "I'm betting it's enough to get them to drop the charges on Mikey, but I can't be sure."
"It should be," Daisy answered, nodding at me as she turned her attention to my grandfather. "I told you he didn't do it. You owe me five dollars."
"You were betting on this, Old Man?" I asked, my eyes widening as I looked over at my grandfather.
"Don't be ridiculous," my grandfather said. "I would never think to do something so tasteless. Daisy bet on it, and I just played along to make her feel included."
"Which is a fancy way of saying I'm not getting my five dollars," Daisy answered.
"Whatever the case, this is only half finished," I said, picking up my now empty mug and taking it to the kitchen like a good guest. "Tanya is still missing. With any luck, she's still out there somewhere, alive and well. Until she's brought home safely, or we know for sure that she can't be and who is responsible for that, this is still very much an open case."
"That's true," my grandfather said. "But, because of you, they can focus their energies in the right direction."
"Well, me and Jack Lacey," I answered.
"That's the gentleman who helped you out?" Daisy asked, raising her voice loud enough so I could hear her from the kitchen.
"Gentleman is a strong word," I said. "But yeah, he was a big help. I owe him a couple of beers in return."
"I still think I should offer the man a place to stay," Daisy said.
"No!" My grandfather and I chimed in unison. Coming out from the kitchen, I clarified. "He's not exactly the domesticated type, Daisy. He's like an untrained puppy; exciting at first but, before you know it, your couch is in tatters and you don't know why."
"Sounds like my late husband," Daisy mused, talking another sip of her coffee. "He was in the service too; Marine Corps."
"Something to be proud of," I answered. Shrugging, I added, "I guess you've got a type."
"What is that supposed to mean?" My grandfather asked, glaring at me, but he absolutely knew what I was talking about.
"Nothing at all, old man," I said, chuckling. "Though, for what it's worth, if it did mean something, I'd be totally okay with it."
"Get some sleep, son," my grandfather said, shaking his head at me, but smiling widely.
"Right after I check on things," I said, nodding. With that, I headed off to make sure one of the most important people in my life was dealing with all of this well.
*
"How is he?" I asked Charlotte after she let me in the room.
She looked toward the back of the room, where Isaac was sleeping soundly, clutching a Captain America action figure and holding it close to his chest.
"He tried to stay up," Charlotte said. "I told him you were coming back, and he was really excited to tell you about his day. We had been on a boat all day though; one of those sunken treasure tours. Two minutes in bed and he couldn't hold his eyes open."
"It's okay," I answered, practically beaming at the boy. "I'd rather he gets some rest anyway. Besides, we have plenty of time for him to tell me about today. We've got all the time in the world."
"You do," Charlotte said, looking back over at me and brushing sleepy red tangles from her eyes. "And I can't tell you how thrilled I am about that." She looked back at Isaac. "How thrilled we both are."
"I am too," I admitted, swallowing hard. "That little boy, he's really something special."
"Thank you," Charlotte said, stepping closer to me. "He's a lot like you. You're something special too. You know that, don't you, Dilly?"
I looked at her and, as I did, all I could think about was what Boomer said. He alluded to the fact that there was something between us, something unspoken since she'd bared her feelings to me in the church.
I hadn't really given too much credence to that. I had moved on from Charlotte. As far as I knew, she had too. What she said to me was nothing more than nostalgia flaring up at a time when we thought the end was near. She didn't love me. She probably didn't even regret not coming with me to Chicago. What she said, it was just her yearning to give some sort of narrative sense to a life she thought was about to be cut short.
Or, at least, that was what I'd thought until now. At this moment, I saw her look at me in a way I hadn't seen her look at me in years. Her eyes, bright and alluring, called to me like they had when I was a teenager. They beckoned to me, teasing me with infinite possibilities. Boomer had always said Charlotte was like the tide; pushing me in to pull me back out.
To me, she had been like the ocean; deep, still, and truly unknowable, regardless of how many times you jumped in.
"Charlotte," I said, swallowing hard.
"Don't," she said, shaking her head.
"Don't what?" I asked.
"Don't say whatever it is you're about to say and ruin it," she answered. "I just wanted you to know I thought you were amazing." She shook her head. "I know you're with Rebecca. I know she's in the next room. That's not what this is about. That's not—”
"Thank you," I said, cutting her off. "Thanks so much, Charlotte," I took another deep breath, pushing away the thoughts brewing in my head and the familiarity tugging at my gut. "I think I need to go."
"If you think so," Charlotte said, looking at the floor.
"Good night, Charlotte," I said, staring at her in the glow of the moonlight coming in through the window.
"Good night, Dilly," she answered.
Walking out, it took all I could do not to turn around and open the door again. It wasn't that I wanted anything from her really. It was just that, being around Charlotte was easy. It was special. She had a place inside of me and, whether I liked it or not, she always would.
"Dillon?" Rebecca's voice sounded from across the hall.
Looking at her, I saw an uncertainty in her otherwise confident seafoam eyes, one that cut to the quick.
"Your grandfather, he said you were—”
"I was seeing Isaac," I said, an uneasiness floating up to the surface in my chest. "He's- he's excited to be here."
"Of course," she answered, nodding firmly. "I'm glad he's having a good time."
"Are you?" I asked. "I know I haven't seen much of you the last couple of days. I just—”
"You've been busy," she answered. "I don't need a babysitter, Dillon. It's not why I came to see you."
"I didn't mean to imply th
at—” I shook my head, registering what she'd said. "Why then? Why did you come to see me?"
"Daisy got a call," she answered. "It's from Marcus. He wants to see you, Dillon. I'm not sure, but I think something bad happened."
Chapter 15
"What's going on?" I asked, walking into the Vero Beach Police Department and finding Cross, Anchor, and Marcus in the middle of what looked to be a terse conversation. At this time of night, it didn't surprise me to find the department itself running on just the essential people, meaning other than the dispatchers and necessary desk and holding cell attendants, the place was mostly empty.
The trio looked over at me as I entered, though they stopped short of actually answering my question.
When Rebecca gave me the message Marcus relayed to Daisy, it left me with more questions than answers. He asked to see me immediately, but refused to tell Daisy why. The only thing the older woman knew was that, judging by the tone of the man's voice, she knew something wasn't right. Given the fact that, as far as I knew, his daughter was still missing, that could have been the understatement of the century.
"Come with us, Detective Storm," Cross said, standing and moving back toward the interrogation room where we'd clashed the first time.
Initially, I wanted to rebel. I wanted to yell at the woman, to demand she tell me what was going on right here and now. That would have done no good though. She might not have liked me, but screaming like a petulant child would have only served to give her reason to.
I followed the trio, catching Anchor's eye as I entered the room. Of the three of them, he had been the only one who actually seemed to want me on this case. Still, he dodged my gaze as I moved past him, sitting on the same chair I had while talking about this the first time.
Maybe it was the fact that I'd actually succeeded. Maybe Anchor hadn't stopped to think that I'd gain some traction in my attempt to prove Mikey's innocence. Perhaps his assertion that he wanted another set of eyes on this wasn't genuine, and he wanted to be the one to crack this case. Or maybe it was the fact that I hadn't cracked the case at all. Maybe it was because Tanya was still out there, still either in danger or worse. Maybe, in truth, I had only served to showcase how far away from finding her they really were, and for all his bluster, Anchor didn't care for that.
There was only one way to find out.
"What's eating you guys?" I asked, folding my arms over my chest. As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized how unnecessary and insensitive they. "I'm sorry, Marcus," I amended, nodding at the man. "I didn't mean that."
"I need you to listen to me carefully, because what I'm about to tell you is very serious," Marcus answered, seemingly unaffected by the foot I'd just lodged in my own mouth.
"We received and reviewed the footage you sent us," he started. "Once verifying its authenticity and going over the timeline again, I sent the evidence to the district attorney, who made the decision to drop charges against Mikey."
"Okay," I said, feeling a little triumphant, but also confused. I had managed to get an innocent man off the hook for a crime he didn't commit, but surely Marcus wouldn't have brought me here just to tell me that. He didn't owe me that, and he certainly didn't seem to like me enough to do me any favors. He could have let me hear about it this tomorrow morning in the paper, like everyone else. No, whatever this was wasn't as cut and dry as that. It wasn't something I'd want to hear. This would sting. I knew it.
"Two hours ago, Mikey was informed that charges would be dropped against him and his release was processed," Marcus said, his tone curiously low and official.
"Sounds pretty standard," I said.
"One hour ago," he started, sighing loudly. "When officers went to his cell to release him, they found Mikey dead. He had a razor blade in his hand. He had apparently snuck it in and used it to—”
"To kill himself?" I asked, throwing my hands into the air. The idea was sheer lunacy. "Are you even listening to yourself?" I asked. Standing, I glared at each of the three of them. "You mean to tell me that you actually believe a man who was just told he was being released from jail and cleared of a serious charge would celebrate by offing himself in his jail cell? Don't make me laugh!"
Anger flushed through me. White hot rage, indignation of the highest order pulsated through my body. They had done this. Their arrogance, their refusal to listen to common sense, their adherence to follow their own path; it had all mingled to lead to the death of an innocent man. And if these three thought I was going to let them get away with the insane idea that this was a suicide, they had another think coming.
"Do any of us look like we're laughing?" Cross asked, her jaw set as she looked up at me calmly. "A man is dead."
"A man was killed," I corrected her.
"You don't know that," Cross answered.
"And you didn't know Mikey was guilty. It didn't stop you from arresting him," I said.
"I still don’t know that he wasn't guilty," she answered. "No one acts the way he did at Daisy's house because they're well balanced. He had a knife in his hand, Detective Storm, and he intended to use it. The fact that she disappeared the same night couldn't be a coincidence."
"Even though I've proven, with the security footage, that he couldn't have done it?" I asked.
"All you proved was that he had help," she replied. "Just because he wasn't there when Tanya was taken doesn't mean he didn't have something to do with it."
"And you think, what? That he killed himself because he had a sudden attack of conscience?"
"Do you have a better idea?" she challenged me.
"I have at least two," I said. "You saw the footage. You saw how Mikey reacted when the Scorpions came in. Maybe he had something on them. Maybe he owed them money. Whatever the reason, I think they got to him in jail."
"They couldn't have reached him in there," Marcus said, shaking his head.
"Right," I scoffed. "Because the operation that, you insist, allowed a man to sneak razor blades into his cell couldn't possibly fall victim to any other sort of incompetence." My hands balled into fists. "But let's assume you're right. Let's say the Scorpions couldn't get to him. That leaves me with the theory I believe is the right one anyway."
"What?" Anchor asked, his voice lighter than the others.
"A man accused of doing something horrible to the daughter of the police chief?" I asked sarcastically. "Is it really any surprise he didn't fare well surrounded by cops."
"Don't you dare," Marcus said, his tone a determined growl. "My officers are good men and women. They follow the law to its letter, and they would never take a life if it wasn't absolutely necessary." He practically spit at me. "You come in here, hurling blame at Cross for not having proof about Mikey, and yet you do the same thing to my officers."
"All I know is a man is dead, and he shouldn't be," I said.
"Then help me make it right," Marcus answered.
"Help you?" I asked. "You want me to help you?" The idea was far-fetched, given the fact that he and Cross wanted me out of town not thirty-six hours ago.
"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't," he said.
"How?" I asked. "How am I supposed to help?"
"Mikey is dead. It's a tragedy but, if there was some sort of foul play, I'll find it. I'll get to the bottom of it. I swear it," Marcus said. "But he loved one thing in this world more than anything else." The chief blinked hard. "He loved my daughter so much that it seemed to drive him crazy. Even if he did take her, if he did something to her, I have no doubt it was an act of passion. Seeing as how you believe he didn't," Marcus continued, looking at me. "Help us find and hopefully save the person closest to him in the world. I want to officially extend an offer for you to help with the search for my daughter."
"You do?" I asked, looking from Marcus, to Cross, to Anchor, and then back to Cross again. You know, because this had to be rubbing her the wrong way.
"It's not my favorite idea," she admitted when she noticed my gaze had come to rest on her. "But I'm a cop, S
torm. I follow orders. So, if Marcus wants you on board, I'll carry you too." She looked at Anchor. "Lord knows I'm used to it."
Anchor leered at her, but then turned to me. "What do you say?"
"I say there's a girl missing," I answered. "If I can help find her and, like Marcus said, do something to counteract the horrible tragedy that happened tonight, I'm all in." I sat back down, drumming my fingers against the tabletop. "I have to ask though, why now? Is it just because Mikey was cleared?"
"That's part of it," Marcus said. "The other part came in the form of an anonymous tip we received just a few minutes before I called for you.
"I'm listening," I said.
"Someone claims to have seen her, Detective Storm," Marcus said. "Someone said they know where Tanya is."
Chapter 16
Riding in the backseat of a car with Cross and Anchor turned out to be more of an adventure than I'd expected. Though I had been officially allowed onto the case by Marcus (after a call to Boomer, of course), that didn't mean the fairer of the pair had warmed up to me at all. Though she hadn't said anything, I could tell from the frostiness in her look and the way she stopped short of turning toward me, even when Anchor addressed me, that I still wasn't her favorite person in the world.
Of course, just because she didn't want to talk to me didn't mean her “meets no strangers” type partner didn’t.
"I used to have a kickass car. Did you know that?" Anchor asked me, looking at me through the rearview mirror from behind the wheel of a car I would definitely describe as nice. A black BMW with a moonroof, this was the kind of ride my grandfather would have described as a “show off car” should it ever have been pulled into his garage for repairs.
Still, the former reality television star didn't seem to think it was up to par.
"As opposed to the bucket of rust you're driving now?" I asked, sarcasm heavy on my voice.
