“He mentioned he might ask, but it’s always great to see one of my favorite boys in blue show up at my front door. Just wish you had some good news for me!” Ann smiled at her friend. She’d grown to respect Chief Frank Slimmer early on during their summers in Brewster, and that respect helped a strong friendship blossom. Ann and Peter had made a point to send Frank a meal once a week for the first few months after his wife Jean passed. Somehow, Frank had carried on without her.
Peter came downstairs with a slight limp in his step. Ann had grown used to his occasional injuries and soreness. She’d pushed him to be more active for years but she’d finally relented in recent years when he decided he would never be a runner, swimmer, walker, or kayaker.
“Frank. Thanks for coming by.” He turned and hugged Chief Slimmer.
“I have to say, your request for an ‘unofficial’ visit was more ominous and urgent than I’d expected. Everything okay?” Slimmer furrowed his brow.
Peter chuckled. “Everything is indeed okay. If you can say that with a straight face and still be heard over the impending construction that will ravage this city.”
“I wondered if this had something to do with Baxter,” Chief Slimmer said. “Look, I know we’ve been pretty hands-off with the protesters but that was mostly just due to limited manpower. Plus, I’ve never heard of a Brewster protest growing violent.”
“No, none of that is important. I’m grateful for the space you’ve given the two groups to sort things out. Unfortunately, I worry the worst is yet to come.”
“What makes you say that, Pete?” Slimmer looked confused.
“Well, these things just tend to escalate once the construction starts. We had a big casino project happen on my watch in my early days as a politician. Just north of Boston. People were pissed in the early going but the protesters grew desperate to make a scene. We had a few arrests and things eventually simmered a bit.” Peter sat in his oversized brown chair and continued. “I just wanted to see if you had any thoughts as to how we could defuse this now before it gets to that point.”
“Valid concern. And one that I share. Obviously, we want to avoid getting ourselves into a mess as much as the town does. We had a minor flare-up yesterday with Baxter and his equipment just down the road here.” Slimmer took a cup of coffee from Ann with a nod of thanks and then sat on the couch next to Peter. Ann stood just a step away in the kitchen.
“What happened?” Ann chimed in.
“One of the protesters was taking photos of Baxter’s equipment, I believe. Stepped foot onto his property and he cried home to Momma. We had to send a detective over to calm him down.”
“Baxter is a real time bomb. How did that go?”
“Surprisingly smooth. He filed a complaint against the detective, but besides that, nothing worth reporting. Credit due to Delaney Shepard for handling that with care.”
“Great. Let’s keep her as the lead on this one, okay?” Peter stood and stretched his back.
Slimmer nodded, stood, and paused as he heard his phone ring. He reached into his front left pocket and fished out a beat-up iPhone.
“Excuse me a moment.” Slimmer turned and stepped into the hallway, away from the Pecks.
Ann looked to Peter, “Sore again? Just the back this time?”
Peter gave her a look and said, “Everything hurts. Growing old is getting old.”
They heard the chief approaching from the hallway. Ann smiled as he neared, but it quickly evaporated once she saw the look on his face.
Slimmer, pale as a ghost, whispered, “Two women just drowned in Seymour Pond. Next to The Punkhorns.”
TEN
Monday, August 6th
Delaney stood with her eyes fixed on the perimeter of Seymour Pond, searching for a sign of life. Every glimmer of the water grabbed her full attention, much like a crowded bar where multiple friends called her name. The pond had never seemed so immense. So colossal. Vast.
The chief was on his way down to secure the scene and lead the search. She could still hear his voice as she scanned the shoreline once again. “Two drowning victims? At the same time?” She had insisted it wasn’t a joke.
Based on what the witnesses said, Melanie Strong and Grace Lee were as different as could be. Delaney collected images to distribute to the search team and was struck when she saw their faces. Grace Lee had long gray hair corralled with a worn hair tie, draped over a “Life is Good” t-shirt.
Melanie looked just like she did when Delaney had spoken to her at the construction site the day prior. Her friend, or maybe-boyfriend, had shared her Facebook profile picture, which Delaney could have pulled up herself since they were friends. Still, those images took on such a different meaning when they were on a poster that read MISSING.
Delaney glanced back at Grace’s face and the image stuck with her as she looked back up into the water. The search teams had pulled back and were regrouping onshore. The glassy water, usually full of wandering wakes and crashing waves, was still. As Delaney’s eyes wandered towards the thickly wooded shores of the Punkhorns, she realized that she’d seen Grace just the other day, too. She was the older woman who had spoken up in the group of protesters at the Baxter site. The sadness crept in like a teenager after curfew, with great care to go unnoticed but impossible to ignore.
Fish jumped in the pond and drew her attention. Minnows danced in the clear shallow water without a care in the world. They shifted around with speed and precision, blissfully ignorant to the happenings on the beach. Pesky flies hovered in clouds around Delaney’s head, dodging every swipe of her hand intended to encourage them to find another person to harass.
Delaney heard tires cross from gravel onto sand behind her and turned, expecting to see the chief. The small parking lot usually fit no more than twelve cars, with others forced to negotiate the nearby shoulder for a spot. This car, however, parked in the middle of the lot without care. Instead of the chief, BJ Baxter and Rachel Spokes stepped out of their black Jeep Cherokee. Delaney let out an audible groan and stepped towards them.
“This scene is secure,” she said in the friendliest tone she could muster. “I need everybody to clear out.”
BJ Baxter walked right past her onto the public beach. Although it was barely 200 feet wide, the beach was one of the most popular spots for locals to hide away from the vacationers and Airbnb crowds. Delaney tried to stop BJ, but he marched right by with no regard for her authority. Delaney’s eyes met with Rachel, who approached slowly and mouthed “Sorry!”
Delaney gave Rachel a polite nod and walked down to BJ. “Sir, I know you’re in the process of acquiring part of this land but I need to keep this entire perimeter secure. The chief is on his way.”
BJ looked at her with disgust. “You again? Aren’t there other policemen in this podunk town?”
Delaney smiled so wide every tooth in her mouth was showing. “I’ve never seen a man so threatened by a woman with a badge. The other members of my team are on their way. Now, I’d appreciate it if you stepped away from our active crime sc—"
“I’m not buying this.”
“Buying what, sir?” Delaney’s cheeks hurt from the forced smile.
“This double-drowning charade. All too convenient for you Punkhorn die-hards that this happens on the very land I now own.” BJ spoke without making any eye contact with Rachel or Delaney.
“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response. It’s impossible. Regardless of your beliefs, you need to leave,” Delaney’s voice rose. “Now.”
Baxter shot Delaney a hard stare and then laughed before spitting into the pond. The saliva bubbled and floated on top, but after a few seconds, it faded into the murky water below. “This is a waste of my time. I guess I’ll disappear too. Let’s go, Rachel.”
Baxter climbed back into the passenger seat of the SUV. Delaney watched them depart from the corner of her eye. She didn’t want BJ Baxter to have the satisfaction of knowing he’d caused a scene. One of those clever de-escalation tip
s she’d taken away from her early years working foot patrol in Boston.
The Chief’s cruiser rolled in less than a minute after Baxter’s dramatic peel out of the parking lot. Slimmer surveyed the beach from the driver’s seat before getting out. Once out, Delaney watched the soft sand as it swallowed his black shoes with every step. He finally approached Delaney and the rescue squad, returning from an initial search of the waters.
“What’s the update, Shep?” the chief barked. He never called Delaney, “Detective Shepard” or even “Detective.” It was always just “Shep.” Delaney had first taken it as an intentional effort to question her legitimacy in front of others. She’d later come to decide it was a term of endearment, almost a fatherly-like tone from a superior. Still, the police force was always a hierarchy. Delaney had no space to correct the harmless nickname, especially not today.
“Grace Lee, 63 and Melanie Strong, 27 are both missing in the pond. Eyewitnesses from the beach say that Grace went for her usual daily swim wearing a light-blue swimming cap and a black one-piece swimsuit. She swam out from the shore of the public beach and went under somewhere towards the eastern half of the water.” Delaney checked her notepad for the rest. “Porter Dawes of East Dennis was with Melanie. They launched a paddleboard from an unofficial shore point on the south edge, near the Punkhorns. He said she hopped off to swim and within minutes went under without resurfacing.”
Chief Slimmer turned to the rescue squad leader. “Any signs of life?”
“Not a thing. We have a team heading to search the shorelines and some imaging equipment on its way from Hyannis that could let us see anything sunken. But I’ve got to tell you, Chief…” The man shook his head. “Bodies tend to float. Unless these folks washed ashore without notice, well, this is unusual. I’ll just say that.”
Slimmer thanked the man and asked him to keep the full team updated. He looked back at Delaney once they were both alone.
“What the hell do you think happened here, Shep?”
“Not sure, sir. Drownings are bizarre. From my short time here, I guess they’re pretty rare, right?”
“We have had one drowning in the last fifteen years. Now we get two on the same day? Within the same minute?” The chief shook his head. “Something’s off here. What did the witnesses say?”
Delaney looked down and read from her notepad. The black ink from her pen had bled through the pages and smudged the words she’d scribbled down just moments earlier. “Kid with Melanie Strong, Porter Dawes, said she went under near the northern buoy and he dove in after her.”
“Anybody around to verify that? Should we be taking a closer look at him?”
“I don’t think so, he’s pretty torn up over what happened, but it reads more like shock than guilt. He said there was a red kayak nearby but we haven’t confirmed who was in it yet. Most of the boats are out on the water helping with the search.”
The chief nodded. “And Grace? She was on the beach?”
“Yes, sir. Apparently, she swims across the pond and back most days of the week, or so a friend on the beach said. Usually wades in from the shore here. There are varied reports about where she went under but everybody agrees she wasn’t near any shore.”
“Word is that she’s a strong swimmer. Wonder if something else happened. Heart attack or something along those lines.” Chief Slimmer took his cap from his head and rubbed his head. “All right, so we’ve got two missing people. Search crews are on land and the water. Not much more we can do at this point.”
“What about their families?” Delaney asked.
“I’ll take the lead on that and have Ruiz back me up. He’s been good with the victim’s families in the past, although that was just a few minor car accidents.”
Delaney nodded. “So, how can we get ahead of this?” Delaney followed the Chief’s gaze to the Punkhorns as she spoke.
After a minute of silence, the chief broke his stare and turned back to Delaney. “I’m going to head back to the Mayor’s to get him up to speed. Can you send me information for next of kin for each of the victims? We’ll need to confirm they haven’t heard anything from either woman and… well, we’ll take it step by step. I’ll see if I can get the Mayor to come along with me to make those visits.”
“And what about me? How can I help besides that?”
“Stay here. Keep this scene on lockdown. Don’t let anybody on site. Radio to Linda and have her send over a cruiser to the popular Punkhorn entrances to block those off too. Better safe than sorry, even if you don’t believe any of that folklore crap that people spew about this land.”
Delaney nodded and wrote down her orders.
“Chief?” Delaney said.
“Yeah, Shep?”
“Two things. BJ Baxter was here just before you. I thought you should know. Not sure how he found out so quickly.”
The chief shook his head, and Delaney was surprised to see a forced smile emerge. “News travels faster than I can drive these days, I guess. Keep him away. If somebody snaps a photo of BJ Baxter at the scene of the most ominous event in Brewster history, well, this is going to get ugly. What’s number two?”
“I responded to a call yesterday. Baxter complaining about protesters trespassing on his worksite.”
“Yeah, heard about that. Don’t see the connection to this though.”
“Melanie Strong was there. I think Grace Lee too. As we were wrapping things up, Morris Hanifin drove by, cussed them out, and spit in Melanie’s face.”
“Shit. That man couldn’t make it a week without stirring up some trouble. It’s worth looking into his whereabouts. Can I leave it up to you to follow up on that?”
“Yes, sir. I’m on it,” Delaney said.
Radio static broke the silence that followed. “Chief, are you on the radio?”
Slimmer leaned his head to the left and pressed the talk button on his radio. “Go ahead.”
“We’ve got a call that needs a unit immediately. Punkhorn parking lot off Run Hill Road,” the motherly voice uttered the damning words tightly.
“Linda, tell me this is one of those moments where you tell me some good news and say the call is that these two women just showed up laughing and skipping through the woods.”
“I’m afraid not, sir,” Linda replied.
“I’ll send Shep. What’s the call?” the chief barked.
“Another person just went missing in the Punkhorns.”
ELEVEN
Monday, August 6th
Ann heard the familiar entrance of a car in the driveway, but it stopped short of the end. The already tightly-packed gravel stretch was three cars deep before they’d gotten word that the detective would be joining them as well.
The woman that emerged from the police cruiser was slim and athletic. It appeared her legs made up most of her body, but she seemed to have a sunny disposition about her. The slight smile on her face was a welcome sight considering the circumstances. Ann held open the creaky screen door for her and the detective extended a hand.
“Hello, ma’am. I’m Detective Delaney Shepard. It’s an honor to meet you,” She said with a serious look on her face.
“Pleasure is all mine. We’ve met before, yes?” Ann recalled guiding a younger Delaney to the mystery section of the fiction stacks at the library. She guessed that was three years ago now.
“Yes, ma’am. You suggested Strangers on a Train. Started a bit of my whodunit binge!”
Ann envied the woman’s youthful energy. “I’m a mystery fan myself. Glad I could be of service. The men are over in the living room. Can I grab you a drink? Water or tea?”
“Water would be lovely, thank you again, ma’am.” Delaney followed the sounds of the voices of Chief Slimmer and Peter.
Ann pulled a few ice cubes from the tray and dropped them into a glass. Her optimism earlier had since faded. She could hear the sound of bad news in Delaney’s voice. Somewhere between her polite responses, Ann knew there was a story to tell.
When Ann car
ried the glass into the living room, Delaney was recounting her interview from the area where Aaron Sun had disappeared.
“He was running through Massasoit trail with Griffin Hodge. His dad owns The Hodge Lodge up off 6A. Apparently, they run together often, something about being teammates back at Nauset High. Anyway, Aaron sped up a bit and then just took off. Griffin said it felt like a dead sprint because he couldn’t keep up. He rounded a bend and then was gone.” Delaney’s somber tone was not lost on Ann. It seemed clear she saw little hope in explaining this as a freak accident.
“So, maybe he got lost, right? That’s still on the table?” Peter asked.
“All due respect, sir, but I run those trails daily and if they ran them as much as Griffin said, well, I don’t see Aaron taking a wrong turn just for the fun of it.” Ann noticed that Delaney looked down at her glass of water as she addressed Peter.
“Plus, he had work today,” Peter added.
“Work? Griffin didn’t mention anything,” Delaney mumbled as she checked her notepad.
“Aaron works as an intern for the Mayor’s office. He was due in at 10 AM. He’d never been anything except fifteen minutes early in the six months he’s been with us,” Peter said. Ann could tell from his tone he felt defeated. Worn. Exhausted.
“So, what’s the move here, Frank?” Peter turned to Slimmer, who had his arms crossed across over his beer belly.
“I won’t lie. This is a new one. Three people disappear off the face of the earth in a matter of minutes. Can’t blame a riptide in a pond because, well, they don’t exist. Can’t blame it on the water because then how do you explain Aaron? I’m stumped, Pete. Flat out stumped.” The chief stood and faced the pond through the rear floor to ceiling windows.
“Detective Shepard, any insights? You’ve been to the scene of both crimes,” Ann stepped in. She’d figured that Peter wouldn’t mind and was glad to see that Frank respected her input as well.
Welcome to the Punkhorns (Shepard & Kelly Book 1) Page 6
