Wild Surge

by Tripp Ellis

  "I didn't kill Heather if that's what you're getting at. Sure, I was mad and upset, but I would never hurt her."

  "I know this is rather personal, but when was last time you were intimate with Heather?"

  "Monday. She came over and we watched a movie."

  "You mind if we look around the apartment?"

  12

  "I don't care," Colin said.

  He didn't seem to care much about anything at this point.

  We searched the apartment looking for nylon rope. Colin also gave us the keys to his car and we looked through the passenger area and the trunk.

  We didn't find anything incriminating.

  I thanked Colin for his cooperation and told him we might have more questions.

  We left Windward and cruised over to JD's practice studio in the warehouse district.

  "What do you think about that guy?" I asked.

  "No alibi, highly emotional… I certainly wouldn't rule him out."

  "He doesn't fit the profile of the Seaside Stalker."

  "Unless he copied the MO to throw us off. He's a jealous guy, and his girlfriend was screwing half the island. I'd say that gives him motive."

  It was a possibility, but seemed unlikely.

  We pulled into the practice studio's parking lot. The same metal-heads that were always smoking cigarettes by the entrance held their usual gathering. I still didn't know if they were band members or wannabes.

  The warehouse district was a desolate wasteland that seemed devoid of life. After dark, the area got pretty shady.

  JD was leery about leaving the Porsche unattended in the parking lot. After what happened last time, he was even more skittish than usual. Jack popped the trunk and pulled out a box of T-shirts. It had been mashed to fit in the tiny front trunk. He hefted it onto his shoulder, slammed the lid shut, and marched into the warehouse.

  The racket of another band practicing echoed down the hallway. The vocalist howled into the microphone and screeched slightly off pitch. Okay, more than slightly. It was painful.

  JD's face twisted at the noise.

  His keys jingled as he pulled them from his pocket and unlocked the practice space. He flipped on the light, and we pushed inside. The practice room smelled like stale beer and spilled bong water. The stacks of Marshall cabinets, and the PA speakers, had soaked up years of smoke and odors from playing in bars and clubs across the island. It was all mixed with the scent of incense to mask the smell.

  Jack set the box of T-shirts on the couch. "I told the guys I would leave a box to pass out to their friends."

  We left the practice space, and JD locked the door behind us.

  "Well, if it isn't Señor Suck," a voice shouted at us from down the hallway.

  Jack's face twisted into a scowl as he glared at Rip, the former singer of Wild Fury (when it was named Louder Than Fuck).

  I grabbed hold of JD's arm before he charged after the twerp.

  Jack was pretty well convinced that Rip had keyed the Porsche. It was all I could do to hold JD back.

  "I swear to God, I catch you fucking with my car, it's your ass!" Jack growled.

  The skinny, blond-haired metal singer stood in the hallway with a cocky grin. He shrugged innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about, man."

  Jack snarled at him. "I'll bet you don't."

  "You got anger management issues, bro. You need to work on that. High blood pressure is no good at your age. You could blow a gasket."

  Jack's face reddened even more.

  "Let it go," I muttered.

  I tugged on his arm, trying to pull him down the hallway.

  Rip grinned.

  Jack glared at the singer for another moment, then backed away. He grumbled loud enough for Rip to hear, "The punk better watch his ass."

  Rip cackled as we pushed into the parking lot.

  Jack took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to let the incident go. His face was still red, and the veins in his forehead pulsed. We climbed into the speedster, and JD cranked up the beast. He vented his frustration by hammering the gas and leaving a streak of thick rubber on the asphalt as we peeled out of the parking lot. The wheel-wells smoked from the spinning tires. The acceleration pinned me to the seat, and the wind rushed through the cabin. The glorious howl of the engine filled the air.

  I had to admit, the car was a hell of a lot of fun when unleashed.

  By the time we reached Oyster Avenue, JD had settled down, but he had grumbled the entire way there.

  We parked at the curb, walked down the sidewalk, and stepped into Tide Pool. Caustics from the indoor swimming pool danced on the ceiling. Toned bodies scampered around the pool in skimpy bikinis that clung to pert assets. Drinks dangled from svelte fingers.

  JD was in heaven.

  All his tension faded away, and a smile curled on his lips. He shook off the annoying exchange with Rip, and we sauntered through the bar to the outdoor patio. There was another pool outside where hard-bodies frolicked. Water splashed, and girls giggled. Guys ogled sumptuous mounds of flesh, and girls pawed at sixpack abs.

  We found Harper at the Tiki hut and ordered three whiskeys. Harper flashed a brilliant smile when she saw us.

  "How's my favorite bartender?" JD asked.

  She batted her eyelashes and feigned modesty. "I bet you say that to all the bartenders."

  "Of all my favorites, you're my favorite-favorite."

  She chuckled.

  "Hey, thanks for sending Teagan my way," I said. "It's really working out well with her."

  "That's fantastic. She's a really great girl. I figured you two would be a good fit."

  Harper slid the drinks across the bar, and Jack paid the tab, leaving a nice tip.

  We found a couple of empty chairs at a table and waited for Denise. I spotted her as she stepped onto the patio. Her emerald eyes surveyed the area, finally catching sight of us as I waved her over. She sauntered around the pool in full uniform. The crowd parted to let her pass.

  I stood to greet her, and she gave me a hug. "I'm glad you're not infected."

  "I was never really in any danger," I said. "It was all a precautionary thing."

  The hug lingered for a moment. Then she broke free.

  "Either way, I'm thankful you're still here."

  I smiled and handed her a glass of whiskey. She took it eagerly and raised a toast. "To good health."

  We clinked glasses and sipped the fine whiskey.

  I fell into my seat and relaxed.

  "I feel overdressed for this place," Denise said.

  "Feel free to remove articles of clothing if need be," JD said.

  Denise's eyes narrowed at him.

  "Keep dreaming."

  Jack smiled. "Every night."

  Denise rolled her eyes. She took a sip of her drink, then asked, "So how did it go with the professor?"

  I filled her in on the details.

  "Well, I think you'll be interested to know this," she said, dangling it in the air. "I've been doing some research."

  My eyes perked up.

  "It seems Charlie Knox has an interesting background.”

  13

  "Knox was convicted of sexual assault as a juvenile, and is a registered sex offender," Denise said.

  My brow lifted.

  "Yup," Denise said in response to my surprise.

  "I'd say that bumps him up on the suspect list," JD muttered.

  "Anything else on his record?" I asked.

  "Isn't that enough?" JD asked. "I'm sure he wet the bed, hurt small animals, and set things on fire as a child!"

  "He's starting to fit the profile," Denise said. "Caucasian. 28. Drifter. He's got no local address listed. His driver's license is out of Texas."

  "Let's do a full workup on the guy," I said. "See if we can connect him to the other murders."

  "I'm on it," Denise said.

  I knew she had something on her mind, but she never went into it. I thought it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. There was an
unspoken thing between us, but both of us had put aside any notion of that ever manifesting. After what happened with Nick, I'm sure the last thing on her mind was getting involved with someone. I figured we would both go on pretending we weren't attracted to one another. It was simpler that way and didn't violate any departmental policies. Not that I was much on playing by the rules.

  We lounged around Tide Pool till 9 PM.

  "We need to get going, find Knox," I said.

  "I want to go," Denise blurted.

  "Cops in uniform make people nervous."

  "If I get out of the uniform, I bet I can get more answers than you," Denise said, taunting me.

  "I'm all for whatever gets her out of the uniform."

  She smacked JD’s arm playfully.

  "Next time," I said.

  "You guys are no fun."

  We left the bar, and I escorted Denise to her SUV to make sure she was safe. She was capable of handling herself, but why take any chances? Especially with a serial killer running around.

  She climbed into her car, and I hovered by the door for a moment. JD hung back, giving us some space. Denise finally said what was on her mind. "I want to get more involved."

  A quizzical look played on my face. I wasn't exactly sure what she was referencing. "Involved with what?"

  "The investigations. I feel like I'm not doing anything."

  "You're doing plenty."

  "I sit behind a desk all day, looking up information, dispatching officers, processing complaints."

  "You do a lot more than that."

  "Well, it doesn't feel like it sometimes."

  "What do you want to do, join the tac-team, break down doors, serve warrants, arrest perps?"

  "Maybe," she said like a bratty kid.

  "Get shot at?"

  "I could do without that."

  "We've been through some pretty hairy situations together," I said.

  "Yes, we have."

  "Those situations were… frightening."

  "Agreed."

  "You came very close to death on multiple occasions," I said.

  "And you haven't?"

  "I'm just saying… I’m not sure I'm okay with you putting your life in jeopardy day-in and day-out."

  "Well, it's a good thing you don’t have a say in that." She smiled.

  I couldn't argue with her.

  "I'm gonna talk to Daniels about my options."

  "If that's what you want to do, go for it."

  "I would appreciate your support. I don't want you two derailing anything."

  I feigned offense. "Would I do something like that?"

  Her eyes narrowed at me. "Possibly."

  "Go home. I’ll tell you all about Charlie Knox tomorrow."

  "You guys get to have all the fun."

  I shrugged with a cocky grin on my face.

  Denise rolled her eyes, pulled the door shut, and started the engine.

  I watched her drive away, then rejoined JD.

  "What was that about?"

  "I'm not really sure,” I said.

  JD and I walked down the block to Hammerhead. We found Chip at the main bar and asked him to point out Charlie Knox. "He's on the patio, bartending."

  "Did you know that Charlie is a convicted sex offender?" I asked.

  Chip grimaced. After a moment’s hesitation, "Yeah. I did."

  "Did you find that out before, or after, you hired him?" I asked.

  "Before."

  I lifted a surprised eyebrow. "So, you had no problem hiring a convicted felon?"

  "No. I didn't. He told me he was a kid when it happened. I appreciated his honesty about it. He expressed remorse and seemed regretful. The guy was down on his luck, and I figured he needed a hand up. Everybody makes mistakes. Everybody deserves a second chance."

  "Fair enough," I said.

  "Since you hired him, has there been any cause for concern?" JD asked.

  "Not until you boys showed up."

  JD and I exchanged a glance.

  "Look, the guy shows up on time. He does what he supposed to do. He is helpful. I don't have any problems with him."

  "Thanks," I said.

  JD and I strolled to the patio. The band played on the stage, and patrons mingled about. The club was beginning to fill up. We made our way to the bar. Jack flashed his badge and shouted over the music. "Charlie Knox?"

  "You got him. What can I do for you?"

  "We'd like to ask you a few questions about Heather Newman."

  His face tensed for a moment.

  Charlie was a good-looking guy, in a mysterious sort of way. Dark hair, dark eyes, intense brow. He had strong, angular features and a slender face. He was about 6'1" with a narrow, but solid, build.

  "What do you want to know?" Charlie replied.

  "When was the last time you saw Heather?" I asked.

  "Tuesday night. I gave her a ride home after work."

  Jack arched a curious brow.

  "Is there somewhere more private we can talk?" I asked.

  "Can't leave the bar unattended," Charlie shouted back. He shrugged apologetically.

  "So, let me get this straight. About 2:30 AM on Wednesday morning, you drove Heather to her apartment?"

  "Yeah."

  "What happened then?"

  "She thanked me, hopped out of my van, and scampered up the walkway to her apartment complex."

  "And that was the last time you saw her?"

  "Yep."

  "You didn't go inside?"

  "No."

  "You two didn't have sex that night?"

  He hesitated. "If you must know, yeah, we did."

  "In the van?" I asked.

  "Yeah. Heather was adventurous like that. We parked in front of her apartment and took care of business."

  "Was it the first time?" I asked.

  "Well, I wasn't a virgin," he said, dryly. " But, yeah, that was my first time with Heather."

  "And Heather was a willing participant?"

  Charlie scowled at me. "Look, I know where you're going with this. I'm sure you know about my background. I never did anything with Heather she didn't want to do. I really liked her. She was a friend."

  "Seems like a friend with benefits," JD said.

  "It was a one-time thing," Charlie said.

  "Obviously," JD replied.

  Charlie frowned at Jack.

  "You wanted more," I said.

  "Sure. What guy wouldn't? Heather was hot as fuck. I would have liked to establish a regular hook up with her."

  "And after you had sex, she just left and went inside her apartment?" I asked.

  "Yeah."

  "Are you sure she made it inside her apartment?"

  "I waited until I saw her get into the lobby, then I left."

  "You realize that makes you the last person to see Heather Newman alive?" I said.

  "I never really thought about it, but if you say so."

  Charlie had a cavalier attitude and didn't seem to get ruffled by our questions. There was a confidence about him, and something behind his eyes that made him hard to read. His eyes could go from kind and innocent to predatory in the blink of an eye.

  I'd seen those kinds of eyes before.

  "What did you do after you dropped her off?" I asked.

  "I parked the van for the night, watched a little TV, then crashed out."

  "In the van?" JD asked.

  He looked at JD. "Yeah. I live in my van, okay? I can't afford a fancy apartment in this town."

  "Where do you park the van at night?" I asked.

  Charlie shrugged. "Lately, the Key Mega Mart. They allow overnight camping. I've been staying there for a few months. Sometimes, I park on Ocean Avenue by the beach, but I risk getting a ticket doing that. The view is nice, though. It's sweet to wake up in the morning, open the door, and watch the sunrise on the water. It's the simple pleasures, you know?"

  "Like strangling a girl?" JD asked.

  Charlie's eyes narrowed at him.

 
"How long have you been living out of your van?" I asked.

  "Since I moved to Coconut Key. Like I said, I'm not rich like most of the people here. I'm doing my best just to scrape by."

  "I bet you make pretty good tips here," I said.

  He nodded. "I do all right. I'd do better if I had tits, but I don't."

  JD chuckled.

  "I guess I should just get this out of the way and say that I didn't kill Heather Newman."

  "You don't seem too broken up about her death," JD said.

  "Crying ain't going to bring her back," he said, staring JD down.

  "Mind if we take a look at your van?" I asked.

  "Actually, I do."

  "What have you got to hide?" JD asked.

  "Nothing. But the Fourth Amendment says that I shall be protected from unreasonable search and seizures. If you want to search my van, get a warrant. No offense. I'm just exercising my constitutional rights."

  "We may just do that," I said.

  "Knock yourself out."

  A girl sauntered up to the bar and ordered a drink.

  "Excuse me, I really should get back to work," Charlie said. "I can't afford to lose this job."

  He flashed a flirtatious smile at the young lady, and she smiled back.

  14

  "That little son-of-a-bitch is smarter than he looks," JD said.

  "He admitted to having Heather in his van, and he admitted to having sex with her. Even if we find DNA, he's got an excuse," I said.

  I called Sheriff Daniels and told him about the situation. "I need a warrant to search the van. Shouldn't be a problem. He's got a prior conviction for sexual assault. He's the last person to see Heather alive. He admits to having sex with her on the night of the murder."

  "I'll make some phone calls and get back with you," Sheriff Daniels said.

  JD and I took a cursory glance around the parking lot at Hammerhead. There was only one van, and a quick glance through the window confirmed that someone was living in it. It was a tall, transit-style van painted blue-jean blue.

  Within 45 minutes, we had a search warrant, and the forensics team had arrived. I went inside Hammerhead and found Charlie at the patio bar and presented the warrant to him. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. If you just want to give me the keys, it will save some damage to your vehicle."

  He frowned at me, then tossed the keys. "Don't fuck up my home!"