Deep in Your Shadows

by Darien Cox

  “Welcome back,” Tim said when Myles reached them. “To our nice, quiet village.”

  “What the fuck is going on?” Myles asked.

  “Tried to go check it out,” Darwyn said. “Got shouted at and told to stay behind the fence. No idea who these fuckers are, but I’m pissed.”

  “They’ve got their own boats,” Stan said. “Helicopter was here earlier. But we’ve been told to stay out. Standing here like idiots.”

  “This is bullshit, Myles,” Tim said, his fair skin flushing. “They’ve had divers down there and everything. If there’s some environmental threat, we need to know about it! Bunch of military assholes or something, and they won’t tell us shit.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Myles said, climbing up on the stone wall edging the boardwalk.

  A white tent was set up on the beach, and a dozen, unfamiliar characters buzzed around. Several boats clustered around one area in the water, voices shouting as they maneuvered a huge silver tarp of some sort that looked like an open parachute. Some of the men looked like soldiers, while a couple of them wore suits. One of the suits, a tall, striking black man, stood speaking to a person Myles recognized, and his entire body stiffened.

  Wearing a thin yellow rain jacket with jeans and work boots, olive skin, brown hair streaked with gold in the front, was the bane of Myles’ existence since moving to the village.

  Christian Boucher.

  “What the hell is Boucher doing down there?” Myles asked.

  “I don’t know,” Stan said. “He owns the marina. Maybe they wanted to talk to him.”

  “I’m the damn sheriff, they should be talking to me, not fucking Boucher.”

  “Easy Murph,” Tim said. “Boucher’s not the problem here.”

  Myles had verbally sparred with Christian on countless occasions, and arrested him three times in the two years since becoming sheriff. Twice, the slippery bastard’s lawyer had seen him let off before ever seeing a court room, which grated on Myles’ nerves. The first time, Christian and his coworker, Billy Vargas, had conducted an unauthorized speed boat race for their own amusement and nearly slammed into a tourist ferry. The second time, Tim had called Myles when he caught Christian digging an enormous pit in a protected part of the forest preserve, taking soil samples, his explanation for the strange act being that ‘he was bored.’

  But it was the third and final incident that still made Myles’ fists clench upon recalling it. After a drunken outing at his buddy JT’s pub, Christian had taken on three men in the parking lot, preppy types from the main town of Singing Bear, who’d ventured into the village for a night of partying. Christian had beaten the tar out of all of them, his reasoning being that they’d insulted JT. He’d been belligerent and defiant, and tried taking a swing at Myles when he attempted to calm him. If Christian hadn’t been so drunk, the punch probably would have connected, and it no doubt would have hurt. Christian was stronger than he looked, and a hell of a fighter, but his lack of sobriety aided in getting him cuffed and manhandled into the car.

  Myles had locked him up down at the station, meaning to let him cool his heels and sober up before discussing charges. He’d been silently pleased to finally have Christian Boucher behind bars for once, but his elation ended quickly.

  Considering Christian’s obvious inebriation, Myles had expected him to pass out in the cell. Myles had sat at his nearby desk trying to do paperwork, while Christian bounced around the cell playing air guitar and singing ‘Jail Break’ by Thin Lizzy. After that, he moved on to a drunken rendition of ‘I Shot the Sheriff’, while Myles rolled his eyes and tried to block him out.

  When Christian didn’t get a reaction from Myles after several more song and dance routines, he clung to the bars and loudly sang one song lyric, over and over. “Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage!” Just that one line. At least a hundred times, until Myles lost it, springing from his chair and shouting threats at Christian, who only laughed. Myles had finally just let Christian out of the cell and driven him home, fearing he’d end up murdering the bastard before the night was out.

  And now Myles was up here behind a fence, disrespected, while Christian was down there, cozying up to those goons. “Who’s in charge down there?”

  “Not sure,” Darwyn said. “One of the suits I imagine. But it was a soldier type that sent us off when we tried to go down.”

  “Yeah, well, they’re not sending me off until I get some answers,” Myles said.

  Stan stopped pacing and smiled. “You gonna bust some heads, Murph?”

  “I think the tall black guy in the suit there with Christian Boucher is in charge,” Tim said. “I’ve been watching, and he seems to be giving a lot of instruction to the others.”

  At that moment, Christian looked up, doing a double-take when he spotted Myles standing on the wall. Christian’s shoulders sagged and Myles was able to read his lips when he said, ‘Oh fuck.’ Christian flipped the hood up on his rain jacket and turned away. Nice try, Christian. But I see you.

  “Oh yeah,” Myles said. “I’m gonna bust some heads.”

  “They’ll just block you, same as us,” Darwyn said.

  “They can try.”

  Chapter Two

  “Oh fuck,” Christian said. He flipped his hood up and turned away from the boardwalk, facing the lake.

  “What’s the matter?” Ogden asked.

  “Sheriff’s here.”

  “That him up on the wall?”

  “That’s him. Sheriff Myles Murphy. I’m sure he’ll come down here any minute. You might want to get a story ready to spin.”

  “He’s likely been briefed already and told to stand down, I doubt he’ll be a problem.”

  “He will. He’ll be a problem.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “I’d place a bet on it. I know him.”

  “I’m sure you do, what with your arrests.” Ogden gave Christian his disappointed scowl.

  “Yeah. That. I’ve also had a mad crush on him for two years, so I tend to pay attention to his behavior. He’s a mellow dude until something pisses him off. And he looks real pissed off right now.”

  “A crush, huh? Don’t go soft on me, Christian. We can’t have anyone from the village involved. You sleep with him or something?”

  “Hell, no! The guy despises me.”

  Christian stole another glance at the sheriff. Myles Murphy looked good as ever. His usual wide-brim hat was missing, but he wore the tan shirt and black pants of his uniform, and they hugged his physique nicely. Murphy was under six feet but his stature always made him seem taller, shoulders back, perpetually ready to dish out an ass-kicking if need be. He had a fit, solid build, not huge and bulky like Nolan, but definitely in good shape. The first time Christian ever saw Murphy, he’d wanted to hit on him, thinking he was a tourist.

  It was in JT’s pub, and Christian had spotted Myles Murphy across the bar with friends, and had privately dubbed him ‘The Laughing Guy’. Dark brown hair, blue eyes and fair skin, Murphy had an appealing Irish face and a loud booming laugh that kept drawing Christian’s eye. Christian liked his smile, and the way his eyes danced when he laughed. The sheriff had been in street clothes that night, looking smoking hot in jeans and a black tee shirt. Because he was unfamiliar, Christian had assumed Murphy was from out of town, and therefore, fair game.

  Until Elliot told him ‘The Laughing Guy’ was actually the new sheriff in the village. Christian had been disappointed. They had to be damn careful who they got close to, and law enforcement was pretty much top of the list when it came to ‘Don’t fucking go there’. Of course JT had ended up with a nosy journalist from Boston, and that worked out okay. But even if Christian ever became bold or stupid enough to try wooing the sheriff, it wasn’t gonna happen, not now, not ever. Because Myles Murphy hated him.

  And that bothered Christian, even if it was warranted. Because whenever he saw the sheriff off-duty, hair a bit more mussed, sometimes in an old college sweatsh
irt, he looked so damn sexy and approachable that Christian found himself jealous of the people who could just walk up and joke around with him. Murphy was perpetually stiff and authoritative whenever he saw Christian. But Christian longed to one day meet the other Myles Murphy, the sexy, off-duty version that seemed to have a smile for everyone else in the village but him.

  And, here he comes.

  “Ogden,” Christian called to his boss, who’d meandered over to speak with one of the divers. “Sheriff’s coming over.”

  Ogden looked annoyed at the interruption, but walked over when the sheriff approached.

  “Hello, Myles,” Christian said.

  “That’s Sheriff Murphy to you, Boucher. Who’s this?”

  “The name’s Ogden.” Ogden shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Sheriff. I’m afraid we’ve made a mess of your lake, but I assure you we’ll have it all cleaned up in no time.”

  Christian wanted to roll his eyes at Ogden’s cheery smile and friendly tone, something their team rarely saw from the man.

  “Mind telling me what the hell crashed in my lake this morning?”

  “Oh, you own the lake? I had no idea,” Christian said.

  The sheriff’s narrowed eyes bore into Christian. Today the sheriff’s eyes looked more gray than blue, like the clouds overhead, likely reflecting his mood. He was standing so close it made Christian’s heart beat faster. He could see a sprinkle of tiny, barely visible freckles across the bridge of Murphy’s nose. Christian wasn’t sure why his automatic response to the sheriff was to taunt him, but it had been that way since their first meeting. He supposed it was his way of flirting without actually flirting. An immature response. But the horny dude inside him was tormented that Murphy was off limits. To Christian, Myles Murphy was the hottest guy in town. There was just something about him that got Christian’s motor running, even when the guy was shouting at him. When he’d said as much to Elliot, Elliot’s response had been ‘Meh, he’s all right I guess’, but then Elliot’s tastes tended to run more toward the barely-legal.

  “We’ve got things under control here, Sheriff,” Ogden said, still with the smile. “I promise we’ll get you up to speed once we’re finished.”

  Murphy stepped closer to Ogden, invading his space. “Get me up to speed now.”

  Ogden’s eye twitched, and Christian knew he was having trouble keeping up the friendly façade. Ogden was not a patient man. But he was a clever man, and spun out a tale without missing a beat. “I’d ask that you keep this confidential,” Ogden said, leaning in to Murphy like they were sharing a secret. “What we’re dealing with here is some orbital debris from an old NASA climate satellite. Now, I’m told there’s nothing toxic, but we just want to make damn sure there’s been no damage to your lake. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

  “Satellite debris,” Murphy said, his tone skeptical.

  Ogden shrugged. “It happens. Thankfully, not often. You’re lucky it landed in the lake and not on dry land. Could have done some real damage to your village.”

  “Hey Christian?” Tyler, one of Ogden’s soldiers, called over to him. Tyler was cute and boyish with a blond crewcut and fit little body, and Elliot was always drooling over him whenever Ogden rolled into town with his toy soldiers. But Christian barely glanced his way, unable to keep his eyes off the sheriff.

  “What is it, Tyler?”

  “Is that location all ready?”

  “Christian’s busy at the moment,” Ogden said, quickly stepping away and silencing his soldier.

  This left Christian alone with Sheriff Murphy, who gave him hard eyes. He pointed toward Tyler. “You know that guy?”

  “I just met him today.”

  “Why are they talking to you?” Murphy asked.

  “I witnessed the debris crashing into the lake,” Christian lied.

  “From what I heard this morning, a lot of people witnessed it. Why they talking to you, Boucher? Do you know these people?”

  “Nope. Just met them. They wanted to ask me some questions.”

  “What location was that guy talking about? They bringing this debris to your marina?”

  Christian had to fight not to flinch. Ogden acted like his soldiers hung the moon, but it was a stupid thing Tyler had just done, blurting that out. Because they were planning on bringing the debris to his marina temporarily, where he’d cleared the boats out of the dry storage facility. Except it wasn’t space junk they’d found on the bottom of the lake. It was something else.

  “He was talking about the pub,” Christian said. “They asked me if there was anyplace good to go for dinner tonight. I recommended Warden’s.”

  Christian was far worse at coming up with lies than Ogden, and he could see that Murphy didn’t believe him. The sheriff pointed a finger in Christian’s face. “You’re lying. You’re gonna tell me exactly what’s going on here.”

  “Ogden already told you.”

  “I’m not stupid, Boucher. You know something more about this. And you will tell me.”

  Two of Ogden’s soldiers appeared on Christian’s left, eyes on Murphy. “Sir, we’re gonna have to ask you to step back behind the fence.”

  “I’m the sheriff of this village, so I think I’ll step wherever I damn please.”

  “Please don’t make this difficult, Sheriff, this is for your own protection.”

  Murphy glanced at the soldiers, then pointed at Christian again as he backed away. “This isn’t over, Boucher. I’ll see you soon.”

  Christian watched him jog across the sand and back up onto the boardwalk, joining Tim Patterson and his other cohorts. “Shit!” He turned away, hands on his hips.

  Ogden approached. “He gonna be a problem?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’ll handle Murphy, don’t worry about it.”

  “Just try not to get arrested,” Ogden said as he walked off. “Again.”

  Christian winced. His memory was spotty of the night he’d gotten drunk and fought with those townies from the pub. But he had flashes. He remembered being locked up. Singing. He remembered the sheriff shouting at him a lot. He’d woken up in his own bed the following morning, but wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten there, and had never worked up the courage to ask Murphy about it. He was embarrassed. More so each time Sheriff Murphy looked at him. With disgust. Clearly, Murphy’s memories of that night were still clear as day. While Christian had already had a scuffle or two with the sheriff prior to that night, it wasn’t until after the jail cell incident that Murphy began looking at him like he was a cockroach.

  “Christian.” Ogden placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll repeat Tyler’s question. Location ready?”

  “Yeah, all set.”

  “Then we’re almost good to go.”

  “Already?”

  “We’re attracting too much attention. Wiley’s gonna arrange transport to get it back to home base, but it’s gonna take some time. Right now we just need to secure it, and fast.”

  Wiley was the other man in the suit barking orders down by the shore. He had a young face, probably early forties, with prematurely white hair, cut military style, and he only joined Ogden when shit was serious. Christian suspected Wiley was a bit higher up the food chain than Ogden. While Christian had long ago made peace with the strangeness of his job and the secrecy of the people he worked for, Wiley kind of freaked him out, with his blank stares and complete lack of humor.

  “Ogden.” Christian lowered his voice and stepped closer to his boss. “Do you think there’s anything inside?”

  Slapping Christian’s face in that annoying way Ogden did to show affection, he said, “Gonna find out.”

  Christian watched Ogden walk away, then glanced back up at the boardwalk. “Yeah,” he muttered to himself. “Gonna find out.”

  Leaning against Tim Patterson’s truck, Sheriff Myles Murphy’s gaze was on the lake.

  Watching their every move.

  Chapter Three<
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  Myles and the others had stayed on the boardwalk and watched as the item pulled up via crane out of the lake was loaded onto one of the boats. He was no NASA expert, but the thing struck him as bigger than a piece of satellite debris—the size of a large tank. It had been wrapped in that enormous silver tarp they’d been screwing with when he first arrived, was somewhat round in shape, and from where he was standing, appeared to be a solid mass.

  It’s probably a damn weapon. Why else would a bunch of government spooks have been crawling all over the place? At least he thought they were government spooks. They’d gotten there fast, wasting no time. If it was a weapon, it didn’t fill Myles with confidence that someone had lost control of it. If the powers that be were gonna screw around with big guns, they needed to learn to keep them holstered. That Ogden guy was right about one thing. It would have been far worse if that thing had crashed on dry land in the village somewhere.

  He’d picked up some Chinese food for dinner and headed to the small station he shared with Darwyn. Alone at his desk, a strange, nagging instinct he couldn’t shake had him digging deeper into the already familiar record of Christian Boucher. What was odd about Christian’s background was that he didn’t seem to have much of one. Myles found it hard to believe that someone as prone to fuck-ups as Christian didn’t have any prior arrests in his past. There was little information he could find about the guy other than he’d grown up in Maryland, raised by a single mother, now deceased, and later lived in Washington, D. C. for a while before moving to the village.

  The only evidence he could find of Christian having an education was a high school diploma. And the date seemed wrong on that. If Christian’s listed age was correct, then judging by the paperwork, he would have graduated high school at age fourteen. It didn’t add up. And though his purchase of the Village Marina seemed legit, Myles couldn’t find any evidence of prior work experience. So how did a nineteen-year-old, which was the age Christian had been years back when he bought the place, suddenly possess the money and skillset to take over a marina? He didn’t seem to ever have had a job before that, not even at a fast food restaurant, never mind a business degree.