by David Berens
He noticed that the window was cracked open slightly and the screen was out, propped up on the porch roof against the side of the house. That’s odd, he thought as he pulled the window down all the way and turned the latch. He shrugged and took another look around, confirming that Riley’s backpack was not here.
He closed and pop-locked the front door on his way out and slid into his cruiser. He picked up the radio and clicked over to the channel he’d given to Meira.
“Hey, Meira, this is Officer Duffy, you there?”
“Yes. Yes. I’m here. Did you find her?”
“I’m sitting in front of your house right now. She’s not here and I don’t see any signs of distress. Everything looks A-OK and I don’t see her backpack either. I’m pretty sure she got herself up and went to school.”
A few seconds of silence and then her voice came back.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, Duffy, but can you run by there and check? I just…I need to know she’s okay.”
He glared at the radio. “I suppose I can do that.”
“Oh, God, thank you so much. I owe you big time.”
“Maybe you can invite me to your next party,” he shook his head.
“Party? Huh?”
“Yeah. Beer bottles all over the porch. Beer bottles inside. Looks like you had a good time.”
“Oh, ah, yeah. Um…no party, just a couple of friends having a beer.”
“Right. I’ll call you back when I get to the school.”
“Thanks, Duffy.”
He clicked back over to the police band and backed out of the driveway. As he pulled back on the street, he glanced up where he’d seen Riley’s open window and noticed a T-shirt and bra hanging from the gutter on that side.
“Ha, right. No party indeed.”
Troy watched Meira as she laid the CB receiver down. She sighed and looked out at the water, her gaze unfocused. After a second, she stood up and turned to Troy.
“Take me in, please. I need to go check on my baby.”
Troy didn’t say anything, just nodded. He stood and walked toward the back of the boat where the smaller dingy was tied up.
“No, wait,” she said. “Let’s give Duffy a few minutes. It’s not like I can get there faster than he can.”
“You sure, darlin’? I don’t mind.”
Meira took a deep breath. “Yes, yes. It’s fine. I’m sure it’s just my imagination running overtime with all this craziness with the girls’ murders and beheadings and all. I’m fine. Let’s just wait a bit. If need be, you can take me in.”
“Deal.”
After a second, he said, “How ‘bout this? Lemme take you out a bit and we’ll throw a couple lines in. Fishin’ always takes my mind off any troubles I’m havin’.”
Meira wrinkled her nose. “Eww, fishing? Not really my thing.”
“Hmm,” Troy scratched his beard. “How ‘bout I do the fishin’ and you do the sunnin’?”
“Well,” she said as she arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t really bring anything to wear for sunbathing.”
He smiled his best dimple-heavy smile and said, “That won’t bother me none, darlin’.”
“My, oh, my, Mr. Bodean,” she pretended to fan herself. “Is it getting hot out here, or is it just me?”
“We won’t go far. I’ll bet Duffy’s at the school by now. C’mon, it’ll do ya good. Seriously.”
Meira nodded. “You’re right. Let’s go do some fishing and sunning. But don’t get excited, mister. I’m keeping this shirt on!”
Troy laughed and walked back to the anchor. He pulled it loose from the back of the Island Cutter and tied it onto the dingy. That way it would hold his spot. He jogged back up to the captain’s chair and found Meira rolling up the bottom of her tank top and tying it in a knot. She glanced up at him.
“Don’t think I can’t tell what you’re looking at behind those sunglasses, sir. You keep your eyes up here.” She jokingly pointed at her eyes.
He pushed his hat back on his head and took off the RayBans he was wearing. He let them drop to hang on his chest by the orange Croakies he wore around his neck.
“How ‘bout that? Now you won’t have to guess what I’m starin’ at.”
She opened her mouth as if to say something then stopped. He watched as a flush of red rushed to her cheeks.
“You are a charmer, aren’t you, Mr. Bodean.”
“The name’s Troy…ma’am.”
“Well, then,” she leaned over and pecked him on the cheek, “you are a charmer, aren’t you…Troy?”
“Yup.”
Officer Duffy pulled into the first staff parking space outside the First Flight Middle School and pulled his sun visor down. Looking into the mirror, he licked his thumb and forefinger and ran them over his eyebrows to smooth them down. He didn’t get to come out to the school often, but when he did, he always got a little excited to see the cute receptionist they’d hired last year. Gabby Delarfino was a dark-haired girl from Ecuador with the sexiest accent. Duffy hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to ask her out, but he planned to as soon as the time was right.
He opened the car door and stood looking into his window, checking his uniform in the reflection. He tucked his shirt in as tight as he could to minimize the bulge of his belly hanging over his belt. When he was satisfied that he looked as good as possible, he strode toward the front of the building doing his best John Wayne swagger.
He punched the buzzer on the door and leaned toward the window so Gabby could see him. When she did, she smiled and buzzed him in.
“Hello Meester Duffy,” she said with a thick accent. “So, good to see you. What brings you to the school today?”
“Howdy Miss D,” he sniffed and leaned on the counter in front of her. “Official business actually. Can’t stay long. Just need to clarify the location of a certain individual that is in your care and uh...”
He tried to sound important and add as many big words as he could, but he lost his train of thought when she leaned forward looking concerned. Her yellow sundress was cut low and the tan skin of her chest flustered him.
“Oh no,” she said and her eyelids blinked quickly. “That doesn’t sound good at all.”
He swallowed and took a deep breath trying hard to maintain focus on her big, brown eyes. She pulled a hand up and twirled the end of her long back hair. A long pause hung between them and he realized he had his mouth open and was gaping at her. He stood up suddenly. As he did, his hand accidentally caught the edge of a display holding brochures about the school. The fliers scattered across the lobby fluttering to the floor.
“Aw hell,” he sputtered and scrambled around picking up the papers. “I’m sorry.”
She hurried around the counter and began to help him. Her hand brushed against his as they both reached for the same piece of paper and she looked up at him. Her tan cheeks flushed a little and she smiled.
“Eez okay, Meester Duffy,” she said in a slightly nervous voice. “I can get these. You have important work to do.”
He stood and pulled his belt up. “Thank you, Miss D. Can you tell me which class Riley Carr would be in?”
“Oh, ummm,” she pursed her lips and looked up and to the right, a stunningly cute look on her. “I believe she eez in Meester Grantham’s class for first period. Down the hall, turn left and he’s the second room on the right.”
He handed her a brochure he’d been clutching in his left hand, tipped his imaginary hat toward her, and sniffed importantly.
“I’ll check in on her and then I’ll stop back by.”
“Okay, thank you, Meester Duffy.”
“Call me Karl,” he smiled as he turned to clip-clop his way down the hall.
She didn’t say anything, but when he looked back, he saw that she was still watching him walk away. Unfortunately, he didn’t see the wall as he turned toward the wing that held Mr. Grantham’s classroom and he slammed right into it.
“Dammit,” he muttered and rubbed his forehead.
/> That’s gonna leave a knot, he thought.
Duffy found the room and looked through the tall narrow safety window in the door. He was looking from the back of the room toward the front, where Mr. Grantham was gesturing wildly with excitement. Apparently whatever he was teaching was more interesting to him than to his students, because Duffy could see the backs of several heads that looked sound asleep.
All the seats were full and he saw the back of a girl’s head in the last row beside the window. A black backpack sat leaning up against her chair and she had ear buds in.
That’s gotta be her, Duffy thought and started to knock.
At that exact moment, Mr. Grantham went into a tirade flinging books and yelling at the students for their apparent lack of appreciation for his teaching. Duffy pulled his hand down and backed away from the window. He pulled the CB receiver from his shoulder and clicked the Meira Carr channel.
“Meira, I’ve got eyes on her in class. You there?”
“I’m here. Is she okay? What’s she doing?”
“She’s in Mr. Grantham’s class right now. You want me to pull her out?”
There was pause on the line and finally Meira said, “No, no, that’s fine. She’s safe?”
“Well, she might not be safe from Grantham’s wrath, but as far as I can see, she’ll live through it.”
“Okay, thank you, Duffy. I owe you one.”
“Next party, right?”
“Uh, sure. Whatever you say.”
“Good, cause I got a date in mind to bring too.”
He could almost see Meira Carr’s eyebrows rise on the other end of the line.
“Oh, um…okay, great. I’ll…uh, let you know.”
“Cool. Over and out.”
As he walked away from Mr. Grantham’s classroom, he practiced his best lines for Gabby. He almost skipped back up to the front office.
“Told ya she was good.”
Meira looked at Troy and hung up the CB. “I know, I know, but it’s my daughter and all this madness going on with the murders…”
“Say no more,” Troy held up a hand to stop her. “Now, let’s get out a ways so you can finally get rid of that shirt.”
Meira opened her mouth to protest, but then asked, “Promise to have me back before school let’s out?”
He nodded and crossed his heart with his finger. Her eyebrow arched above her right eye and a mischievous grin spread across her lips. She reached down to the knot holding the tank top up above her midriff. She untied it and crossed her arms to take hold of the bottom of the shirt. With one smooth pull, she lifted it up over her head and shook her hair out. Try as he might, Troy could not keep from staring at the beautiful, topless woman in front of him.
“How’s that?” she asked wryly.
“Yer quite the charmer yourself, aren’t you, Mrs. Carr.”
“The name’s Meira…sir.”
“Well, then,” he leaned over and kissed her full on the lips. “You are a charmer, aren’t you…Meira?”
“Yup,” she said winking at him. “Now, let’s get this boat out into the ocean.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said and thrust the throttle forward.
The boat lifted up on plane and flew out toward the horizon. Meira raised her arms into the air like a roller-coaster rider. Her hair flapped wildly in the wind behind her and she let out a whoop.
It’s gonna be a good day, Troy thought as he whooped along with her.
16
Naked Truths
Troy Clint Bodean could barely remember feeling like this—genuinely struck by a woman. The last time had been back at Pawleys Island during what he’d come to call the Summer of the Hat. When they got far enough out, he slowed the boat and found a deep spot to throw out some lines. Today, however, he couldn’t care less what he caught on his hook. He cared more about a catch that was currently lying on the deck, topless, tanning herself in the early sun.
“Ya know, you’re gonna wanna get some sunscreen on your um…on the uh…well, the parts that don’t often see the sun.”
Meira propped up on her elbows and grinned at him.
“I don’t suppose you have some lying around. You know, for an emergency such as this?”
Seeing her sit up and watching as her tan, flat abs tightened up, Troy felt himself mentally stutter…as well as stumbling over his words.
“Uhh…um…I might have some of the…um…that is…have a bottle of…”
His voice trailed off as she inhaled. As her bare chest rose and fell, he felt sure she was doing this on purpose. He gathered himself and sucked air in over his teeth.
“I think I got a bottle of that frog stuff down below.”
She smiled; proud of the discomfort she was causing him.
“Tell you what, I’ll roll over and sun my back a bit until you get back. Then we can talk about all the ways you can apply that…frog stuff.”
“Oh…” was all he could muster as he jogged down the ladder into the boat.
He rummaged through a drawer in the kitchen and found a green bottle of sunscreen mixed with bug deterrent spray and shook it. He opened it and sniffed. Fresh enough, he thought. He closed the lid and took the steps two at a time back up to the deck.
Troy was shocked to find that Meira was sitting up, holding her tank top over her chest and looking very concerned.
“Hey, now, I wasn’t gone that long. What gives?” he joked, but she didn’t smile.
She pointed off to the East, slightly farther out in the ocean. Perhaps a mile away, Troy could see a boat. It looked like it might be a tourist boat or something like that. There had to be at least twenty people on the deck moving around. Some were waving their hands frantically, but from this distance, he couldn’t make out what the situation was on board.
Above their deck, flapping in the breeze, Troy saw a flag waving. It was bright orange with a black circle and a black square—the universal boating symbol of distress.
“Hold on, darlin’.” Troy jumped into the captain’s chair and fired up the boat. “Oh, and you might wanna get your shirt back on. We’ll finish this conversation later.”
Meira pulled her top back on and sat in the seat opposite Troy.
“What is it? What’s going on?”
“Not sure,” he said. “But I think their boat might’ve quit on ‘em. Looks like a bunch of tourists.”
She nodded and squinted into the distance trying to get a good look. The wind whipped her hair around her head and Troy couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she still looked…even when she was windblown. As they got closer, Troy realized he recognized the boat. What in the world is he doin’ out there? he thought, and why are all those people—
Meira seemed to finish his thought out loud. “Naked. They’re all naked, Troy.”
“Looks like we weren’t the only ones gettin’ some sun,” he grinned and eased his boat within a few feet of them.
The people on board looked to be young—maybe twenties and thirties. Some were waving their hands frantically and calling out to him. All were naked…and some were red—sunburn red—really, really sunburned. He couldn’t understand what they were saying, but he waved and jogged up to the deck to throw out bumpers. When they got within a few feet, he saw an old, gray man push his way through the crowd.
He tried his best to stifle his laughter as old Mel tried to wave and cover his bare body at the same time. Mel was tanned and ruddy over most of his body, but his midsection that would’ve normally been covered with his shorts, was white as snow…er, actually, bright pink with a sunburn of his own.
As his boat drifted in, Troy began to see that some of the millennials were holding poster board signs, most of which had some sort of message scribbled in heavy marker about saving the whales, or the environment. All of them looked weary and exhausted.
“What gives, Mel?” Troy asked as the old man tottered forward to tie their boats together.
“Protest group,” he grunted. “We were just supposed to
make a few rounds up and down the shore so they could get on the news or some foolishness. Damn boat had other plans. She quit twenty friggin’ minutes into the cruise. Unfortunately, the news helicopter was long gone and we’ve been drifting ever since.
Mel reached out to help Troy step over onto his boat.
“What’s your deal, dude?” one of the protestors, a skinny kid with long, dirty, dreadlocked hair, leaned toward Troy and jabbed a finger in his chest.
Troy grabbed the kid’s finger and twisted it backward. He could feel it start to crunch as the boy buckled and fell to his knees. He let it go and shook his head as the kid cradled it with his other hand.
“Just like a fascist,” the kid groaned. “Oppression at it’s finest, you guys. The big man with the big boat wrecking the environment and stomping on the little guy.”
Troy arched an eyebrow. “Listen junior. From the looks of it, you are the little guy.”
The kid jerked his head from side to side and covered his midsection with his hands.
“And if you want this big boat with its big ‘ole carbon footprint to get you and your compadres back to shore, you need to show a little respect.”
The dreadlock kid huffed and turned away with his nose up in the air.
“We’ll ride on his boat,” he said to his fellow protestors. “But we don’t have to like it.”
A chorus of agreement rumbled through the bedraggled group. Some of them were staring longingly over at the boat that had a working motor. Meira had come over to lean against the rail of Troy’s boat. She grabbed a pair of shorts – apparently some she’d raided from his bunk – and tossed them over to him.
He caught them and handed them to Mel. “Get these on and we’ll start loadin’ up your passengers over here. We’ll get ‘em back to shore, but I reckon you should drop anchor and leave your boat. You can get a tug and come back out for a tow.”
“Much obliged, Troy, though I ain’t sure I can pay for a tug. I’m bettin’ these little shits will stiff me on the payment for the job.”
