Kill Tide

by Timothy Fagan

  “What’d you tell them?” he asked.

  “The truth! I didn’t see anything strange. Pepper, I’m freaking out, that poor girl! Her family!”

  “The police are doing everything possible,” he said lamely.

  “I’ve got to go over there,” she said.

  “Where?”

  “To Emma’s house. They must be shattered!”

  “I’m sure they are. But you can’t just show up. The police’ll be interviewing them. You really don’t want to—”

  “Pepper, I wasn’t asking for permission! If the family sends me away, fine. But I knew her! I’ve talked to her parents a ton of times at Sandy’s. I just want to hug them. And cry with them. It’s the least I can do.”

  Pepper knew how she felt. He wanted to help too. He wanted to be all in.

  “Let’s go together,” he said.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Addison family’s house was bigger than average for New Albion. It was near the crest of a hill on Dill Beach Way, about a block inland from the ocean, but the elevation gave them a water view. Pepper didn’t know much about real estate, but it was clearly a multimillion-dollar home.

  A New Albion police cruiser was parked in front of the Addisons’ house. It was empty.

  Pepper parked behind it, and they walked to the front door. Delaney rang the bell.

  Officer Dooley, the redhead, answered the door. “Pepper Ryan! What’s up?”

  “Hey, ah, Dooley.” Pepper couldn’t remember his first name. “This is Delaney Lynn. She’s a friend of the Addisons. She wanted to see how they’re doing, if that’s cool?”

  And Dooley stepped aside to let them in. Just like that.

  The Addisons were together in their big kitchen with a handful of friends. Mrs. Addison, an attractive middle-aged woman with frosted blonde hair, gave Delaney a big hug, and they both began to cry.

  Mrs. Addison introduced them to three teenage girls. Emma’s best friends.

  Delaney also hugged a younger blonde-haired girl—Emma Addison’s only sister, Shauna. She was about fourteen years old. Shauna looked scared, upset and vulnerable, like she would collapse any second.

  Pepper shook Mr. Addison’s hand and said he was sorry about everything. It sounded lame, but Mr. Addison just nodded and said nothing.

  “Pepper’s dad is Police Chief Ryan,” said Delaney, wiping her eyes. “And he works for the police too.”

  Pepper needed to explain. “I’m not—”

  “Is there any news?” interrupted Mrs. Addison.

  “I, ah, haven’t heard any developments, but everyone’s doing their best. And the FBI’s arrived and they’re helping too.”

  “The FBI?” Mrs. Addison looked encouraged.

  Pepper took the opening to ask what he’d been wondering about the most. “Do you know if your Emma has any connection to the other girl, Emma Bailey? Did they know each other?”

  Mrs. Addison shook her head. “No. We told the detectives that already. Why? Do the police think there’s a connection?”

  “Not that I can say. I was curious, though, since they’re close to the same age and live in nearby towns.”

  “Our Emma plays for her high school soccer team,” said Mrs. Addison. “So she’s played against Eastham High. Does the other girl play soccer?”

  Pepper felt stupid, asking questions with no basic knowledge. “The detectives will check any sports connections or anything else,” he said.

  “Well, if you’re talking to them too, the Baileys? Please tell them we’re so, so sorry for…” And Mrs. Addison began sobbing heavily.

  Mr. Addison enveloped his wife in a hug. “Why’re you here again?” he asked Pepper.

  Uh-oh. “Ah, Delaney wanted to tell you how sad she was about everything and make sure—”

  Mr. Addison cut him off with an upraised hand. “This is a horrible time. It’s like we’re stuck in some nightmare. I think you’ll understand we’d like to have some privacy. Now.”

  Pepper felt terrible.

  Officer Dooley was in the kitchen doorway, and he raised his red eyebrows and jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the door.

  Delaney gave Mrs. Addison another hug, and then Pepper accompanied her out of the house.

  That hadn’t gone well.

  But one of Emma’s friends named Juliet followed them outside. “Hey wait!” said the girl. Juliet was a skinny redhead with milky pale skin. When they’d met her inside, she hadn’t said a word. Just repeatedly blew her nose. She still had a wad of Kleenex in her hand.

  “That sucked,” the girl said. “You were just being nice.”

  Delaney gave the girl a long hug.

  The girl blew her nose again, then said, “I just wanted to tell you guys, because I wasn’t here when the cops interviewed everyone—I don’t think Emma knew the other girl. The other Emma. We were super close, and Emma would have said something after, you know… When that Emma got snatched.”

  “Thank you,” said Pepper.

  The girl sniffled. “It had to be the sketchy guy at the restaurant. That’s who the cops need to look at.”

  “Which guy?”

  “The manager guy, Scooter something. Emma called him Scooter the Stalker, he hung around the hostess desk so much.”

  “Scooter McCord, the assistant manager?” asked Delaney, sounding skeptical.

  “He asked her to go to a movie with him. He said it was as friends, but Emma knew he wanted more. And he’s like, ancient! She laughed at him. Really shot him down.”

  Scooter had looked to Pepper like he was in his early thirties. Was that ancient to a teen?

  “Did you tell the detectives about Scooter asking Emma out and her saying no?” asked Pepper.

  “I haven’t talked to them yet.”

  Pepper recited for Juliet the main number to the station, which Juliet quickly saved in her phone. “Ask for Detective Kevin Sweeney,” he said. “Tell him what you told me. It’ll help.”

  “Pepper Ryan?”

  Pepper turned and Sergeant Weisner was standing on the flagstone walkway, looking as pissed off as ever, her hands on her hips. Her mouth was open—with shock? Or anger? “I can’t believe I’m seeing your face again today.” Weisner never looked too healthy, but she definitely looked redder than usual.

  “You said I didn’t have to go home…” he tried. But he gave her a wave of surrender as he spoke, hustling away to his truck with Delaney.

  “I don’t believe Scooter’s the Greenhead Snatcher,” said Delaney as they walked. “Sure, he flirts with everyone at work, but not very well. You saw him a couple days ago, the redheaded guy on my ass when you were in for dinner? He’s a pest, and he’s on a bit of a power trip. But kidnapping young women? I don’t see it.”

  “Do you know if he was working Saturday afternoon? And last Thursday night?”

  “I’m not sure. I can check.”

  Pepper thought for a bit. “Have you ever seen him driving a white van?”

  “Just the restaurant’s catering van. It’s white.”

  “But it has the restaurant’s name on its side, right?”

  “Yes, but the sign just clips on. It’s kind of cheap. He could have taken it off, no problem.”

  Pepper was about to ask more questions when he noticed another vehicle parked inches from his rear bumper. It was an old gray minivan with a dent in the driver’s side door. And a man was leaning against Pepper’s truck. A further bad development to Pepper’s day. It was Fester Timmins, the town cop wannabe. The man had his thick arms folded, which pushed out his man-boobs. Not a great look.

  “Pepper Ryan! Pepper. Ryan…” Timmins said it just like that. As if his emphasis carried some special weight.

  “Hey, Fester,” he said. He would have climbed in his truck, but Timmins was leaning against the driver’s door. So Pepper waited.

  “I go by Francis now. My legal name. Nobody calls me Fester anymore. What’re you doing here at the victim’s house? Police cadet special a
ssignment?”

  So Timmins knew he was a police cadet? “Just visiting the family,” Pepper said. “Passing along our condolences. Why?”

  “Just seemed funny, you here at the victim’s house.”

  I could say the same about you, thought Pepper.

  The man gave him a big smile. “But since we’re both here, let’s touch base. Any good leads?”

  Was this guy serious? “I’m not involved in the Greenhead Snatcher investigation,” Pepper said. “I’m doing old case stuff in a computer database. Totally out of the loop.”

  Timmins looked skeptical. “Really? You gotta be curious, Ryan. It’s what separates us from the monkeys.”

  “Yeah?” asked Pepper. “I thought monkeys are curious.”

  “Like Curious George,” offered Delaney from the other side of his truck. “He’s definitely a monkey.”

  “Yeah, in a picture book,” scoffed Timmins. “I’m serious. I’ve gotta do what I can, find out what’s up with this Snatcher dude.”

  “You after the reward?” asked Pepper.

  “Reward?” Timmins laughed. “I’m planning to hang out my shingle as a private investigator any week now. It’ll sure help business if I bring down the Greenhead Snatcher.”

  A private eye? Usually people in that line of work were ex-law enforcement. But whatever.

  “Well, I saw you on TV. You know what they say—there’s no bad publicity!” Pepper eased Fester Timmins to the side and climbed into his truck to drive Delaney home.

  When Pepper reached the end of the Addisons’ block, he saw Delaney was shaking, so he pulled over. A tear ran down her pale face. He reached over to hold her, and she fit in his arms like the most natural thing in the world.

  “That Fester Timmins guy made this seem like a big game. But it’s horrible,” Delaney said, her voice trembling. “It must be like a bad dream for her parents. And I can’t imagine what Emma is going through. Both Emmas…”

  Pepper suddenly felt guilty about his own unofficial dalliances with the Bailey case. Was he treating it like a game too? No, he was just trying to help in his own small way. Not for the big reward, or to win a job in law enforcement.

  He gave Delaney a hug and then kissed her wet cheek. To comfort her, but it still sent electricity through him. Her wet strands of hair stuck to her face, and she looked young and vulnerable.

  “I’m not sticking around the Cape much longer,” she said. “These snatchings have me pretty freaked out. And I’m going nowhere musically on the Cape. Something tells me we won’t get famous with Brad and the Pitts.” She laughed with a shake in her voice. “I’m going to talk to Dennis Cole some more and see how he can help. Maybe I’ll give Nashville a shot.”

  “Nashville? You seem more like a rocker to me.”

  “Hey, I grew up on an onion farm in Georgia! But I’m nervous about doing it alone. I probably need a partner.”

  It shocked Pepper, what she might be saying.

  Tell her about Harvard, dumbass, he thought. And tell her you’ll think about Nashville too! But he didn’t.

  Maybe deep down he didn’t want to make any more promises he would later regret. Or he knew he wasn’t free to just pick up and take off with Delaney—too many other people were counting on him to keep his commitments.

  As his mind raced, trying to decide, Pepper remembered the sharp advice Gus Bullard, his mean old hockey coach, seemed to always come back to: Pylon, you ever notice how it’s always someone else's fault, not yours?

  But Coach Bullard was a jerk and a bully. Pepper would not let that guy’s old rantings mess up his decisions now.

  After too long of a pause, Pepper said, “Seriously, you’ll be great.” He looked down at her in his arms, and she gave him a thin smile.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When Pepper reached the Langham Arms to drop off Delaney, he texted her the black-and-white photo of Casper Yelle.

  “He looks kind of familiar,” Delaney said, frowning.

  “You’ve probably seen him around the parking lot. Or at work? It’s a small town… But tell me if you see him again.”

  After a final long hug, Delaney left him.

  Then Pepper did something he hadn’t mentioned to her—he drove to Eastham to talk to the Baileys.

  Traffic was typical for a Sunday on the Cape. Slower than reasonable and most people didn’t know where they were going. Or they weren’t going anywhere in a hurry… So, tourists. Pepper tried to relax and go with the flow but completely failed. He was too impatient to talk to Emma Bailey’s family.

  He arrived at their home about twenty minutes later. It was a quiet, modest street. The Baileys lived in a snug Cape-style house with faded cedar shingles. Their home was less than half as large as the Addisons’. And further inland from the water. So, a very different price range. But overall, it was very similar in size and style to Pepper’s own family home. A classic Cape house.

  Pepper wanted to find an answer to the big question eating at him—why Emma Bailey? And why Emma Addison? Were they both just horribly unlucky? Or was there some connection between them? A connection that might be a triangle, with the third point being the Greenhead Snatcher?

  There was only one way to find out.

  He saw a Barnstable Sheriff’s Department vehicle parked at the curb, so he continued past and parked half a block down from the Baileys.

  The deputy was probably there to protect the family from news reporters and random voyeurs seeking a glimpse of the victim’s home and family. Pepper had gotten a good look at the deputy as he drove past—a huge guy who looked like he was texting on his phone, head down.

  Pepper walked rapidly back to the Baileys’ house, cutting across their lawn to the front door.

  He didn’t know the Baileys and wondered if they would talk to a random stranger who showed up at their door while they were in shock and grieving. It had only been three days since the Greenhead Snatcher abducted their daughter. Two days since New Albion police arrested several Bailey relatives at Yelle’s apartment.

  But Pepper had to try.

  He reached the Baileys’ front door and rang the bell.

  “Hey!” came a bellow from the direction of the street. The deputy must have finished texting and noticed the person at the Baileys’ door. Pepper didn’t turn to look. Innocent and confident, right?

  A balding middle-aged white man wearing an untucked golf shirt opened the front door. He had a swarm of blue tattoos on both forearms. Mr. Bailey?

  “Desmond? Who is it?” a woman’s voice asked from somewhere in the house. The voice sounded tired, scared and hopeful. Every time the doorbell rang, it could be news about Emma, good or bad. Every ring must almost give them a heart attack.

  “I’m Pepper Ryan,” he said to the man. “Can I talk to your family for just a minute? I have a message for you from the Addison family. Emma Addison’s parents?”

  In his peripheral vision, Pepper saw two distractions. One was the massive deputy trotting up the front walk. Shaking the Cape.

  The second was—God’s truth—a tan Jeep Wrangler that cruised past with Casper Yelle’s pale face in the driver’s seat. Pepper was 99% certain.

  Back for another look? The creep didn’t learn his lesson last time?

  “Sorry, Mr. Bailey,” said the deputy as he arrived on the porch. He was a white guy, probably in his late thirties. Plenty of muscle but also plenty of fat. An ex-college athlete who saw more food than exercise these days? The deputy was sweating heavily.

  “Just for a minute? It might help,” Pepper pleaded to Mr. Bailey.

  A woman appeared behind Mr. Bailey. “You have a message from the Addisons?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Mr. Bailey sighed and said to the deputy, “It’s okay, Len. This is a personal visit. But probably a very short one.”

  Pepper didn’t tell the deputy he’d seen Casper Yelle, since by now the man and his Jeep were long gone.

  With Deputy Len crammed back in his patrol car, Pep
per sat with Mr. and Mrs. Bailey in the living room. The Baileys sat on a sofa and he sat in a wing chair.

  Pepper could see a dozen pictures of their daughter Emma on the mantel above the fireplace. One in a ballet costume. Another in a fancy dress—a junior prom? She had shoulder-length dark brown hair and was very pretty. In each picture Emma had a mischievous smile.

  There were also four pictures of a younger boy, also with brown hair. Obviously the brother who’d seen the snatching.

  “I visited Emma Addison’s family earlier today,” said Pepper. “They said if I saw you, to let you know how sorry they are for what you’re going through too.”

  “I’d love to talk to the Addisons,” said Mrs. Bailey. “They’re the only ones who really know how we feel right now. The—” Her voice choked off, and she began sobbing quietly. Like she didn’t have the strength anymore to cry louder. Her husband hugged her and rubbed her back.

  “Why would they expect you to see us too?” asked Mr. Bailey, sounding annoyed.

  Pepper regretted coming here and felt like a complete asshole. What the hell was he doing?

  “I work for the New Albion police,” he said. Not a lie. Not the whole truth either… “I was following up with them to see if they had remembered any connection between their daughter and yours.”

  “You look young for a cop,” said Mr. Bailey.

  Pepper had to keep pushing. “Do you know if your Emma knows Emma Addison?”

  Mrs. Bailey was looking at him funny now too. “The other police asked us about this over and over. We told them we don’t know any connection.”

  Pepper nodded, trying to look soothing. And professional. “Absolutely. I wanted to make sure you haven’t remembered anything since you talked to the detectives. Any little connection.”

  A boy walked into the room and stopped. He was around seven years old. Had to be Emma’s little brother, Mason.