Red Surf: Leah Ryan Thrillers (The Leah Ryan Thrillers Book 4)

by Tracy Sharp

  Finally, I said, “So, do you whip out those shark photos at parties? I bet it makes for great conversation.”

  “I don’t go to many parties.”

  “Most people have photos of their kids on their cell phones.”

  “The sharks are like my kids. I’ve spent more time with them than I ever have with people.”

  “You prefer them?”

  “In most cases, yes,” Logan smiled at me. “You don't see them destroying the planet."

  “Good point. Did you always want to be a shark expert?”

  “Yes. I saw Jaws as a kid, and I was terrified, like everyone else. But then I heard about the backlash from the movie. How people who just had to prove how tough they were, were killing thousands of Great Whites. The White became vulnerable. Their numbers declined 73 percent in the ’70s and ’80s, mostly because of that movie.”

  “I didn’t realize they were endangered. Everyone thinks of Great Whites as monsters.”

  “They are not. They are an Apex predator that we need in the oceans. They keep the populous of other sea animals down. It’s important to keep a balance, or else the planet suffers.”

  “That makes sense,” I said. “Take away one important element and it’s a domino effect.”

  “Exactly. The Great White are finally making a come-back, but now with this murder, sharks are back to getting a bad name.”

  “No offence, but they never really had a good name.”

  “Well, you know what I mean. Big, bad sharks eating people. The only good shark is a dead shark, and so on.”

  “I think people should be smart enough to realize that this woman was fed to the sharks.”

  “They don’t know, right now. The police aren’t releasing that information. All the public knows is that there is foul play suspected, and that sharks are involved.”

  “Look, Logan. I know you love these creatures, but after this morning, I’m fully aware of how dangerous they are. They may be just doing what they do, but they are dangerous. What if one of these sharks grabs a kid playing in the water? Grabs a toddler from some parent while they’re playfully dunking him? Or some parent teaching their child how to swim, holding them under the belly and having them kick their arms and legs to get used to the movements?”

  Nick stopped, faced Leah. “Then it’s a risk they’re taking. I hate saying it, and the last thing I want to see is someone attacked by a shark, especially a kid. But if you’re in the ocean, you’re on the buffet table.”

  I saw his point. But, this was a point that we’d never agree on. I was prickling and tired, and the chemistry between us had vanished. “Nick, I’m really tired.”

  He looked down at the sand. “Leah, I’m sorry. I’m just really protective of them. I’ve studied them my entire life, and tried to keep them from becoming extinct. They’re amazing creatures. Potentially deadly, yes. I guess I figure that, if I don’t defend them, who will?”

  I nodded once. “I get it. You don’t have to apologize or defend the sharks to me. We’re not going to see eye to eye on this. I’m seeing things from the victim’s point of view. And honestly, this case, and my encounter with the shark, has wiped me out.”

  He lowered his head and looked at the sand. “I understand. I’ll drive you back.”

  “Thanks.”

  The ride to the beach house was quiet. Attempts at light conversation fell flat. It was strange how fast an attraction could wink out. For me, it didn’t take much. All a guy had to do was say the wrong thing, and just like that, I turn cold.

  By the time Nick dropped me off, it was dusk. Night was falling fast, with a sunset so gorgeous it almost hurt to look at. If things had turned out differently this morning, I wouldn’t be seeing it. And Logan would be saying, ‘Gee, that’s too bad. She shouldn’t have been in the water.’ And maybe he’d be right; but damn it, I thought I should rate higher than sharks. Even for a shark lover.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I said.

  “Anytime. Leah, I feel like I’ve ruined any chance we might have had of getting to know each other better. I like you.”

  “I like you too, Dr. Logan.” I smiled. Referring to him in a formal manner put the point across that I was no longer interested in being anything more than what we were, which was next to nothing. We weren’t even friends.

  His lips tightened and he nodded. “Okay.” He lifted his hand. “Have a good night.”

  “You, too.” I turned and headed up the stairs to the deck. By the time I put the key into the lock, I was utterly exhausted.

  I dropped clothes on the floor on the way to the shower, and adjusted the water temperature to hot. The steamy water helped work the knots from my neck and shoulders, and I stood under the spray for a long time.

  My back ached from where the shark had bumped me. The knock had been powerful, and it would likely take a few days for the soreness to fade. I moved slowly, taking my time lathering and washing my hair, and by the time I turned the shower off I felt like a new woman.

  As I dried off, I heard a sound in the living room. I froze, listening. My heart picked up speed. Nothing. Maybe it was just the house settling. Or the wind. It got pretty windy near the ocean.

  I rubbed my hair with the towel until it was just slightly damp, and then worked it over the rest of me. I could use a beer. Sit on the deck. Listen to the waves.

  Creak.

  Right outside the bathroom door.

  Somebody was standing just outside the door. Had I locked the sliding door behind me? Had I left windows open? I’m sure I had. I forgot things like that all the time.

  Creeeeaaaaak.

  Fear shot through me. The hair on my scalp lifted. Wrapping the towel around myself and securing it at my chest, I started humming a tune. The last song I heard on the radio on the ride home. I didn’t want whoever it was to think I was on to them. I needed time to find a weapon.

  Humming, I opened a drawer and found a can of aerosol hairspray. A nice, big, fat can of outdated stuff. Strong as hell. The kind that kept your hairstyle in a hurricane. Your house might be gone, but your hair would look fabulous.

  I held the can in front of me and approached the bathroom door, still humming, somehow keeping the tremor of fear I felt out of my voice.

  “Kicks?” Jack’s voice said from behind the door.

  I swung the door open and it banged against the wall. “Jesus, Jax! Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I didn’t want to scare you,” he said, looking scolded.

  “You almost got blinded by this can of hairspray,” I looked at the can. “Which I think they stopped making sometime in the seventies. The damage would’ve been permanent, I think.”

  “Yikes,” he said, his eyes moving over me.

  “Jax.”

  “Yes?”

  “You were hoping I’d walk out of here naked, weren’t you? That’s really why you didn’t say anything.”

  “Well... yeah.” A big smile spread across his face. “Sorry.”

  “You would’ve been, you jerk!”

  “Want a beer?” He asked.

  “Hell, yes.” I let out a long breath and followed him into the kitchen. “You really did scare the hell out of me, Jackson.”

  “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Tell me something.”

  “Okay.”

  “Why is it that a woman can wear a bikini or a tank top and short shorts, and guys can control themselves, but send her out with a towel wrapped around her, which has to look frumpy as hell, and they go all stupid?”

  “It’s the idea of what’s underneath the towel.”

  “Nothing is underneath... right.”

  He twisted the top off a bottle of beer and handed it to me. Leaning back against the sink, he grinned at me.

  I tilted my head. “What happened to all the cuties you were talking to? I didn’t expect you back until late, if at all. Thought I might stumble across your passed-out-naked-form on the beach during my mo
rning jog.”

  “I was tired.” He looked down.

  “Uh huh.”

  “What happened to Dr. Logan?” Jackson kept his narrow, green eyes on me and took a long pull off his beer. I always thought his eyes were like the eyes of a wolf.

  “He likes sharks better than he likes people. I couldn’t take the competition. I’d never be able to measure up. All those sharp teeth and all.”

  He chuckled. “I could’ve told you that wouldn’t go anywhere.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  A tiny smile turned the corners of his mouth upward. “What would you have done if you’d come across my passed-out-naked-form on the beach during your morning jog?”

  “Kicked you awake and then hopped over you, kept jogging. Can’t lose my momentum, you know.”

  He tipped his head back and laughed. “I’m glad we both ended up back here tonight, Kicks.”

  “Me, too, Jax. Let’s go out and sip our beer on the deck. Listen to the waves roll in.”

  “Sounds good to me. Then if Dr. Logan comes back, trying for a second chance, I can beat his ass until he cries like a little girl.”

  I liked the thought, and found myself smiling. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you almost got eaten by a shark, and he still likes them better. So I don’t like him.”

  “I don’t think you ever liked him.”

  “I don’t think you did, either, Kicks.”

  Jackson was right. I never really liked Logan, anyway.

  ***

  The sound of shrieking seagulls pulled me from sleep. The windows were all closed and locked, but the sound still penetrated the thin walls of the beach house. I opened my eyes to the dusty morning light filtering through the sheer curtains. Stretching, I listened to the sound of waves rolling onto the beach. It was heavenly. I felt like I could lie here all morning, just listening. No wonder people came to coastal areas to get away.

  After a few minutes of listening to the ocean, I wanted to be closer to it. I got up, pulled on a pair of running pants, and exchanged the light tank top I slept in for a sports bra and a plain black t-shirt. I have dozens of black t-shirts. They’re a staple of my wardrobe.

  I pulled on a pair of ankle socks and my Nikes, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and munched down a protein bar for energy, while watching the waves in the dusty pre-dawn light. I thought of the shark, and the muscles in my neck and shoulders tightened. I didn’t hold it against the shark for almost eating me. I understood that I was in his territory. But the memory of all those grinning teeth scared the hell out of me. I’d almost found out what they’d feel like coming through my flesh. Sawing through my bones.

  I wondered if Shannon had been alive when the first bite was taken from her. But then, I really didn’t want to know. The thought was too horrible to entertain.

  Finishing the last bite of the bar, I quietly went out the patio door. Jack was still asleep and I didn’t want to wake him. I liked my time alone, and running time was relaxation time. It was almost a religious experience for me. The release of endorphins, the rapid heart rate, stomping out tension. The rush. Nothing worked like running.

  Except for maybe sex.

  But I hadn’t had sex in several months, because I’d turned over a new leaf. So, running was it for me.

  I stretched my legs for several minutes, using the steps of the patio, feeling the pull on my calves, quads, the backs of my thighs, and shins. I crossed an ankle over one thigh, stretching the glut on the left side, and then did the same with the other leg.

  Whatever you do, don’t think about murder. I kept telling myself that. I bent over, tying my black Nikes and stood, stretching my arms above my head. I leaned over, placing my hands on the sand, stretching out my still sensitive lower back.

  The beach was empty. When my shoes hit the sand, my heart rate kicked up a notch. I still wasn’t used to running on sand and it slowed me down. I put up with the sinking sensation until I got closer to the water and the sand hardened.

  The steps came easier and I lengthened my stride, still running at an easy jog. The trick for me is to pace myself. Build endurance. I’m impatient, and I want to break out in a full out run, but then I’m defeating the whole purpose of the exercise, which is to find the relaxation in the run.

  The backdrop of the ascending dawn on the horizon was spectacular. Streaks of pink, purple and orange rose farther upward with each passing second. My breaths came quicker as I ran harder, reaching the end of the 2.4-mile stretch.

  Slowing just enough to turn without spraining an ankle, I did a u-turn and headed back toward the beach house. There were a few other summer homes on Bullfrog Beach, but apparently, everyone was still sleeping. Fine by me. I didn’t feel like sharing the moment with anyone. I reveled in the solitude.

  Seagulls swooped and circled above the gentle waves, dipping down to catch breakfast. I lengthened my stride, putting more into it, and felt the exhilaration of the run pumping endorphins into my brain, making my body feel weightless. Like I was flying. My heart drummed against my ribcage as I reached the beach house.

  I slowed, running at an easy jog. A spot of bright red on a dock in the distance caught my eye. The little girl was on the dock, fishing again. She lifted her hand and waved to me.

  Smiling, I lifted one in return. This was becoming a ritual. A man came walking down some stone steps from their log cabin. He walked up behind her, leaned down, and placed a cup beside her.

  Fathers and daughters. Fingers clenched over my heart and I looked away.

  Trees loomed behind some of the older cottages, and thickened into woods between the homes. The sun was rising in the sky, dappling the lawns set back from the beach.

  Finally, I slowed to a walk, and made long, slow circles, cooling down, drenched in sweat. Leaning over, I placed my hands flat on the sand and stretched the backs of my legs. Then I straightened, stretched my quads, then my calves.

  Seagulls screamed over to my right, jumping around something on the sand. The waves kept rolling over the object, making the birds jump, run up the sand a few inches, then back down again.

  I frowned. That object hadn’t been there a minute ago when I was running. I ran past that spot and it had been clear of debris. The object was pale, and I thought it was a large fish. I walked closer as crows appeared, all at once, swooping down from trees at the edge of the beach. The seagulls shrieked at them, not wanting to give up their prize.

  Curiosity got the better of me and I began a slow walk toward the birds. They were about thirty yards away, yelling at each other. The crows bullied the gulls away, and several of them picked at the object on the sand.

  My heart rate kicked up again. Crows are scavengers. They eat dead things. A few months ago I was witness to several of them picking away at a dead woman. The memory made my stomach tighten.

  Please, please, let this just be a dead fish washed up on the beach.

  The morning was growing lighter, but the trees hanging over the part of the beach where the crows had gathered shaded the area. As I moved closer, dread skittered over my spine, lifting the small hairs at the back of my neck.

  Several of the crows were hopping around on top of the thing now, which I now saw was pasty white. They picked at it, and at each other, fighting for the best spot to eat. The thing appeared to be a couple of feet in length, and I could make out dark red edges and splotches, where it had been damaged.

  I stood several feet away, looking at it, and my stomach dropped.

  A human leg, bitten off above the knee.

  More crows flew down as another object washed up on the sand a few yards down the beach from where I stood.

  I sucked in a deep breath of air as I realized what it was. My blood turned to ice in my veins.

  Hair covered part of the face. The arms and lower torso were missing. Jagged, torn edges of skin, muscle, and bone were visible in flashes between the crows as they landed on it, momentarily covering parts of it under their
black feathers.

  Oh, no. Oh please, God, no.

  I took another step and the crows scattered, and I saw clearly what the thing was.

  The head and shoulders of a woman.

  Chapter 4

  “You must be the unluckiest woman in the world.” Detective Chris McCool sat on the patio, pad in hand, shaking his head. “You find two bodies in two days.”

  “I don’t know how she does it,” Jackson said. “She has a talent for it.”

  Detective McCool lifted his brows. “Finding bodies?”

  “Finding trouble.” Jackson leaned back against the wooden railing.

  “I’ve had more than my fair share,” I said. “I think it's someone else’s turn now.” My stomach turned as I looked out over the water, afraid that I might spot another part of a dead body.

  “I’d say so,” McCool agreed.

  When I spoke, my voice sounded husky with emotion that I was trying to keep a cap on. “Detective, whoever is killing these girls must be dumping them into the water nearby. He must have a spot close by, where he does the killing. Pieces of two girls have washed up almost at my doorstep.”

  “I think you’re right.” McCool looked down at his pad for a long moment. He tapped it lightly with his pen.

  I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t.

  Jackson asked the next question on the tip of my tongue. “Any idea who this girl is?”

  McCool dug around in his pants pocket, pulling out a pack of gum. He offered it to me, then to Jackson. “I don’t recognize her. I don’t think she’s a local. She’s likely a vacationer. I’m sure we’ll find out before long. As far as I know, no one has reported her missing, yet.”

  We were all quiet for a long moment. Only the sound of the surf and the crinkle of the gum wrappers filled the silence. The plaintive cry of a seagull over the water.

  Some family would get terrible news in the next couple of hours. Heaviness fell over me and sadness tightened my throat. “I’m so sorry.”