The Girl in Dangerous Waters (Emma Griffin FBI Mystery Book 8)

by A J Rivers

  "I saw her yesterday wearing a resort uniform. She's a member of your staff."

  His face goes pale, but I don't have it in me to play nursemaid to him right now. My priority needs to be the woman dead in her neon purple bikini and finding out what happened to her.

  Desmond has joined Eric and Bellamy at the body and is staring down at her when I walk back into the trellis area. I crouch down beside her and peel back the towel again.

  “What are your first impressions?” he asks.

  I glance up at him in a bit of a surprise but decide not to say anything about his sudden change of tune.

  “She's been gone for several hours. When we were carrying her out of the water, I could tell rigor mortis has begun to affect the lower part of her body. That effect doesn't begin to set in until four to six hours after death and begins before the upper part of the body, usually in the eyelids and face. The injury on her head is perimortem. It happened before she died. There's indication of blood flow, which happens when a person is alive when an injury happens,” I explain.

  “What about her hands?” he asks. “Look at her wrist. How could her hand be bent like that if it takes hours for the body to stiffen up?

  I nod. “I noticed that, too. One of her hands is completely normal, but the other…”

  "It looks like she's holding something," Bellamy points out.

  "I'm not a medical examiner, so I can't make any real conclusions. But there is a phenomenon that can create that effect. Some doctors debate if it even exists, but it seems to have been documented in many instances. It's called cadaveric spasm. Essentially it means the moment death occurs; there is instant stiffness separate from and more intense than rigor. It can happen in the entire body or in only one area. Think about the victims in Pompeii. There are preserved bodies that show people crawling and reaching out, trying to survive. They died in that moment, and their bodies locked in that position, which allowed the mud and ash to solidify around them to create those casts."

  Carefully lifting the bent hand, I examine it and notice something under her fingernails. The brown substance is deep under the middle two fingernails and shallower in the others. I can't tell what it is, but I don't disturb it so it can be collected later.

  "So, she was trying to pull herself out of the pool when she died," Desmond concludes.

  "Oh my god." I look up and see Alonso standing right at the entrance to the enclosure, his eyes locked on the woman's face. "It's Rosa."

  "Rosa?" I ask.

  His eyes don't move away from her for a second, then he glances over at me, nodding.

  "Yes. She's been working here for several months. I can't believe she's gone. How could this happen? She never had a problem in the water."

  He goes back to staring at her, and I get to my feet.

  "Have you called the police?" I ask. "Did you make sure they know the coroner needs to come?"

  "Yes," he answers. "They're on their way."

  "Good. Until they get here, we need to keep everybody away from the pool area."

  "Absolutely," Alonso agrees with a nod. "I would prefer no guests to be around when the crew is working, anyway."

  "Crew?" I ask. "What do you mean?"

  "We can't expect the guests to swim in the pool without it being thoroughly cleaned. The crew will need to drain it completely. Proper cleaning and treatment will take time, so it's important to get started immediately."

  I shake my head.

  "No," I tell him. "Everything needs to be kept as it is until the police arrive. The other guests swimming should be your last priority right now."

  "The expectations and needs of my guests are always my top priority," he tells me.

  There's a hint of a threat in his voice.

  "If you want to make this go smoothly, you will listen to me. There isn't a return policy on your staff. The police aren't just going to come, slip her into a bag, and go on their way like it's no big deal. They will want to know what happened, and if they show up here and there are a bunch of people scrubbing the scene clean, it will set off alarm bells."

  "It was an accident," Alonso insists.

  "Then it will be easy."

  Chapter Nineteen

  "Emma, it was an accident."

  There are those words again. It's Bellamy saying them to me this time, but they don't mean any more to me than when they came from the sleek, polished manager. I shake my head, pacing back and forth across her room. The police dismissed us from the scene an hour ago, and we came straight here. Within just a few minutes of us getting back inside, room service arrived with trays of food for us. It feels like a subtle form of damage control from the resort.

  I'm sorry you saw a corpse floating in the pool, I hope these crepes provide you comfort.

  “There's something else going on,” I tell her. “That wasn't just an accident.”

  “Why not?” Eric asks. “Even the police investigators agreed with the initial explanation. Rosa went out to the pool for a swim, slipped, hit her head, and ended up drowning. It's awful, but it's not unheard of.”

  “Maybe,” I admit. “But it still doesn't feel right. I just can't see that girl dying that way. You heard what Alonso told them. Rosa swam every morning. Every morning she went out to that same pool. You're going to tell me that all of a sudden, she ends up dying in a freak accident in the pool she swims in every single day?”

  “That's what makes it an accident,” Bellamy says. “You can do the same thing over and over, but that doesn't stop things from going wrong. Anybody can slip, especially if it's actually somewhere near water.”

  “No,” I insist. “I walked up there on that deck. You did, too. It wasn't slippery at all. A resort like this makes sure their pool deck isn't slippery. People throwing down this kind of money to stay at a resort aren't going to want to end up on their asses in front of everybody when they're showing off their new bathing suit. And that's another thing. Did you see what she was wearing?”

  “A… bathing suit,” Eric says, drawing out the words because he doesn't understand their significance.

  “A really sexy bathing suit,” Bellamy adds.

  "Exactly. That's not the kind of bathing suit somebody wears to do a few laps around the pool at dawn. That's a bathing suit meant to be seen by someone else."

  Bellamy looks like she's thinking about this for a fraction of a second, then shakes her head again.

  “Not necessarily. You can't judge what happened based on what she was wearing. Maybe that is the type of suit she wore every morning to do her laps because it made her feel good about herself, and she wanted to start her day off well. Or, from a less perky perspective, maybe it was a suit she didn't like the way she looked in, so she wore it as her motivation to work out harder every day."

  "No. She was in full makeup. Her hair had styling product in it."

  "For all you know, maybe that’s just what she did. There's an agent in the fraud division named Jojo. She's a perfectly nice-looking woman. Clean, put together, obviously takes care of herself. She was out sick with the flu for almost three weeks last year. So I went to her place to bring her some soup. She opened the door in pajamas, slippers, a grimy bathrobe, and a full face of makeup. Far more makeup than she ever wore to the office. She told me she has always made it a point to wear makeup on her sick days because it makes her feel better. She's been doing it since she was in middle school, and her mother got her mascara for the first time."

  "That seems like a lot of extra effort she's putting herself through when she's already sick. The last time I had the flu, I had to build up the energy just to roll over in bed. No way I could go through all that to put on makeup. And even worse… wash it off," I say.

  "And that's fine, too. The point is, people wear makeup for all sorts of reasons. Jojo’s makeup didn't mean she wasn't sick, and Rosa's bathing suit didn't mean she wasn't swimming alone."

  "I know that. But it doesn't mean she was, either. It's something to think about. If she was plan
ning on meeting up with someone for an early morning swim or was already with someone, even if it was an accident, that someone isn't saying anything," I say.

  "That's a lot of vague terms for one sentence," she replies.

  "And yet you know exactly what I'm saying. Somebody knows something. Somebody either saw her last night or this morning or was planning on seeing her this morning. And yet they haven't said anything to the police or anybody else. What is it that they're not saying? What do they know?”

  “Maybe they don't know anything. Even if she was supposed to meet somebody this morning, either they were already gone by the time she went into that water, or they were late and with all the craziness going on around finding her body, didn't want to get involved,” she theorizes. “Especially if it was the guy we saw her with. We already know she isn't supposed to be hooking up with guests. I'm sure she told him that by now, too. He's not going to volunteer that information.”

  "Why not? It's not like Alonso can do anything to her now."

  "Be honest, Emma. Don't think just about her death. Think about the entire situation. Try to see it from his perspective. If you were in a secretive relationship you knew probably wasn't going to last more than a handful of days anyway and the person you were in a relationship with ended up dying in an accident, would you want to rush forward and put everything out there? Alonso might not be able to do anything to Rosa, but that doesn't stop the awkwardness or embarrassment."

  "Embarrassed for having a relationship? Even if it was against the policies of Rosa's job, they are both adults."

  "What if Graciela was lying to you and he actually was seeing both of them. Or maybe more," Eric points out. "Airing your dirty laundry is one thing. Dumping out the whole hamper and stringing up all the panties is another."

  "If you don't want to think of it that way, how about this angle. If he admits he was with her this morning or that he was supposed to be, the police might take more interest in that crack in her skull," Bellamy says.

  I stop pacing and look at her, leaning with my hands clamped on the back of a chair.

  "That's another thing. The head injury."

  "What about it?" Eric asks, nibbling his way through what seems like his fifth croissant. "You've seen this exact thing before. Unfortunately, it's not all that uncommon. People don't pay attention when they are out by the pool. They run or don't notice water on the edge. They lean down to scoop things out of the water and lose their balance. It doesn't take much to slip and hit their head. If they end up rolling into the water after, it can turn bad fast."

  "You're right. I have seen it before. Which is why it's standing out to me. The injury on Rosa's head didn't look right to me."

  Something occurs to me. "B, did you delete those pictures you took after you sent them to the police?"

  "No," she says. "Thanks for reminding me."

  "Before you do, let me see them."

  She pulls the images up on her phone and hands it to me. I scroll through until the one she took zooming in on the wound in the side of Rosa's head. Flipping the phone back around, I show it to them.

  "Look where that wound is. That's what was bothering me. When people slip and fall at the edge of a pool, they hit the back of their heads. It starts bleeding instantly, and then the person slides or rolls into the water. Rosa's injury is too far up the side of her head. How would she hit that place on her head if she just accidentally fell?"

  I scroll back through the images to a wider shot of the pool, then sweep my fingers across the screen to tighten the image in on the edge. "And there's no blood on the edge of the pool. Nothing that shows where she supposedly hit her head and fell into the water so helpless and out of it she drowned."

  "So, what are you saying?" Bellamy asks.

  "Something happened to Rosa. Obviously. I just don't believe it was an accident. I need to find out who is responsible," I answer.

  "No," Bellamy frowns. "You can't turn this into an investigation. That girl's death is sad. It was horrible and brutal. But it was also an unfortunate accident."

  "I don't think it was," I argue, handing her the phone.

  “Look, Emma, I agree. This is a bit suspect. And you’re right about the blood,” Eric starts.

  “Thank you.”

  “But still. Even if there was foul play here— and I’m not saying there was— there is absolutely nothing we can do about it. As Bureau agents, we can’t just pop in on random cases outside U.S. jurisdiction. We have to let local law enforcement handle this.”

  “So we just sit here and go back to our beach vacation, ignoring this poor woman? What about finding out the truth? What about justice?”

  "I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that you're looking for a way to get involved," Eric says. "You're in a holding pattern, and you can't stand it."

  "That's not what this is," I fire back angrily. "But you don't have to worry about compromising your career. I'm not asking you to be involved."

  Storming past them out of the room, I stalk down the hallway toward mine.

  Chapter Twenty

  I throw open the door to my room and am surprised to see Graciela inside. She forces a smile as she brushes tears away from her cheeks.

  "When you weren't here when I first got in, I thought maybe I was going to get a reprieve from being startled by you," she tries to joke.

  "Are you alright?" I ask.

  She finishes wiping the counter and heads over to the balcony door.

  "Yes," she says firmly as she sprays the door with cleaner and watches the drips glide down the glass. "It's more shocking than anything, really."

  "You didn't know Rosa?"

  "I knew her," she says, pulling a cloth from the pocket of her apron to start buffing away the cleaner. "But not very well. We have opposite schedules, so we don't work together." She pauses. "Had. We only talked a couple of times. But it's still sad to have someone you knew die that way. I just don't understand how it could have happened."

  "What do you think happened?" I ask.

  Graciela glances at me over her shoulder.

  "I heard it was an accident," she tells me. "That she fell beside the pool."

  "Do you believe that?"

  Her expression is confused and tight as she moves on to work on the vanity mirror.

  "I'm not sure what you're asking me."

  "Do you think it's possible she could really have accidentally fallen and drowned?"

  Her mouth opens like she's going to answer, then closes again as she reconsiders her words.

  "That's what the police say. They told me she was floating in the water and had a cut on her head. I can't imagine anything else that might result in what happened to her.”

  I nod, not wanting to lead her in any way.

  “Somebody mentioned that she swam a lot. Do you know anything about that?”

  “She swam every morning,” Graciela says. “I usually saw her coming from the pool when I was heading into the building to start my early rounds.” Sudden emotion comes to her face, and she glances away. “I can't believe I won't ever see that again.”

  “Does this change how you feel about working here?”

  “Of course not. What happened to Rosa breaks my heart, but it was only an accident. Accidents can happen anywhere. This opportunity is still my dream. Just like I'm sure it was for her,” she tells me.

  I'm still not convinced, but I let the conversation drop. Graciela finishes and gives me a friendly smile as she leaves. I think about what she said, trying to process the words and see if I can find any other meaning in them.

  If she really was carrying on some sort of relationship with the same man that Rosa was, not knowing her well could have one of two reactions. In some instances, feeling betrayed by a friend can make a reaction to a situation like this more volatile and lead to violence, while having the other person be a stranger can make her more of an abstract idea, leading to more anger toward the cheating partner.

  On the other hand, no
t knowing the other person can take the humanity away from her and create room in a person's thoughts to turn her into anything they want her to be. Without real-world knowledge about their personality or character to go on, it can be easy to transform them into a villain and turn all anger and wrath on them.

  But I can't see Graciela being involved. It's not just that she's trained and funny, or even the hope and optimism that glimmer in her eyes even as she talks about the horror of one of her fellow staff members dying so suddenly. Taking what friendship we might have out of it, thinking of her only from the perspective of an investigator, I don't see her committing a crime like this. Her denials of talking to the man are suspicious, but there was little emotion in the denials. She didn't get worked up or defensive. She just brushed it aside. And as we talked about Rosa's death, she didn't get agitated or start story planting.

  That's what I call it when someone potentially involved in a crime starts weaving their narrative early in the investigation, even before any attention or suspicion falls on them. Most of the time, they unknowingly end up offering more information than is asked of them. Producing pristine stacks of receipts that show their movements across every second of a given period of time. They're the ones who make 9-1-1 calls that include spiels about what they were doing and what their partners were doing for the day before they get to the fact that they have just found them murdered. Who slip details about a victim's perceived wrongdoings into conversations to lead toward a sense of blame, or who offer up their own theories about what happened that totally steer the conversations away from anything that might suggest them.

  Story planting is common and often damning. It's like the person launching a kite into the air with a long tail trailing along behind it. Investigators who catch the end of the tail might be whisked away into the image the person is creating and be distracted from reality. But the investigator could just as easily yank the kite back down to the ground. Making excuses before they're asked for one. Giving information that isn't needed. Offering explanations that aren't wanted. They are all things that very often bubble up in a person responsible for something and tend to shine a light on them rather than being a distraction.