“You felt uncomfortable with a stranger in your home.”
“Yes. I mean, to him it wasn’t a stranger. He said he was an old buddy of his.”
“Buddy?”
“Marines. They worked together.”
“And he wanted him to stay…because he didn’t have a place?”
“Yeah. Something like that. He was turned down somewhere else and was in a bind. I told him there were places that helped with that.” She shook her head. “Anyway, a day later he told me that he’d found a place on a friend’s boat so it didn’t matter.”
“You recall what this guy looked like?”
“Tall. Broad. I can’t really remember. He was wearing a baseball cap. Sorry.”
“Would you remember his face if you saw it again?”
“Perhaps. I don’t know.”
Skylar raised a finger, her thoughts circling around to the past and something she recalled. “Hold that thought.” She got up and made a phone call to Ms. Matthews, hoping that she hadn’t gone off to her mother’s yet.
“Come on,” she said standing by the entrance and looking back at Sara.
“Hello?” a voice answered.
“Ms. Matthews. It’s Skylar Reid from Flathead County Sheriff’s Department. Have you left for your mother’s?”
“Yes. I’m about a mile out of town.”
“I hate to do this but can you swing back? I need to collect something I saw at your home. It might help find who killed Jason.”
She heard her slow the vehicle. “I’m on my way back.”
Jason’s wife didn’t live far from Sara. After telling her where she was heading, Skylar took off, her mind now connecting the dots. How didn’t she see it in the beginning?
Ms. Matthews was there to greet her when she arrived. The storm had intensified and she had to shout to be heard. “I need the framed photo. The one with Jason’s platoon.” She nodded and went inside to collect it. Skylar thanked her and told her she would return it as soon as possible. In the meantime it was best she got out of town before the hurricane swept through like a bulldozer. It was already tearing up the ground. Plants swirled in the air and crashed, rolling across the road like tumbleweed.
Skylar gunned the engine. While heading back to Sara’s she tried contacting Harvey to update him on the unfolding situation but he wouldn’t answer his phone. She gave up after four tries and left a message. Arriving outside Sara’s home she hurried up to the doorway and met with Sara under the carport. She held the framed photo out in front of her. “You recognize anyone in this?”
“Well yeah, that’s Jason, Lamar and…” Her eyes widened. “That’s him. That’s him,” she repeated. “The guy he wanted to stay.” She pointed him out and sure enough it was the same man. Skylar rocked back her head. Solving murders was like a game of chess, if you didn’t think or move fast, your opponent would move and take ground. It didn’t matter how smart, clever or experienced a cop was, it was easy to overlook the small details.
“Look, thank you, Sara. If I were you, I would head out of town. It’s getting far worse than I thought. Is there anyone you can stay with?”
“Oh don’t you worry about me,” she said. “This isn’t my first rodeo but I can tell it’s yours.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“The look is always the same on newcomers’ faces.”
“Does it get better?”
“The storm. No! But after riding a number of these out, you get stronger,” she replied. Skylar thanked her for being honest and told her they would be in contact soon. She then took off heading north for New Hope Anger Management, hoping she wasn’t too late.
Harvey was beside himself with worry, and yet at the same time a protective anger welled up inside him. The Weslo cabin was located west of Carrabelle just off Mill Road on the north side. Nestled into the woodland, it couldn’t be seen from the road so Harvey shot past it and had to backtrack.
“Now just stay calm,” Hanson said.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Harvey replied as he veered onto the property that was covered in Shumard oaks, slash pines and scrub. As the cruiser charged up the driveway kicking up gravel and splashing through puddles, it opened up to a large property with a gorgeous log cabin pushed back on a hill and a sixteen-foot boat out front on a trailer. Nearby under a carport was Jake’s banged-up Ford. Harvey killed the engine and hopped out dashing towards the house with his gun drawn. Hanson was telling him to put it away. He didn’t think a kid could be a threat but Harvey had attended countless calls where individuals out of their minds did things they wouldn’t have done had they not been drugged up. “Payton! Payton!”
Hanson went around the back while Harvey went up to the door and gave it a try. It was locked so Harvey scanned the windows. The drapes were drawn tight. He hammer fisted the pane of glass but got no response. Putting his ear to the window he listened. It was hard to make out anything over the noise of the wind and rain but just as he was about to pull away, he heard a scream.
Fearing the worst, he hurried over to the front door and kicked it three times before it burst open. Moving into the house with his gun raised he panned to the left, then the right. Inside it was a nice place. Certainly not run-down like Jake’s home. His father obviously took pride in his summer getaway. He didn’t need to get on the radio. Hanson must have heard the scream as well, as he entered through the rear and was clearing the rooms. He nearly shot him as he spun around into the kitchen.
“Anything?” Hanson asked.
He went for the stairs but had only climbed four when he heard something crash. It wasn’t coming from upstairs but out in the kitchen. Both of them rushed in to find it empty. No one was there. It was exactly as they left it.
Assuming they’d misheard where it was coming from, they turned to leave. That was when Harvey heard Payton scream. Her voice was unmistakable. He could have picked it out from a noisy crowd. It was coming from below them.
Shifting back, they scanned the floor and that was when Hanson found the iron handle. He gestured to Harvey that he would pull it and to be ready. Gripping his service weapon tight he approached the entrance. He gave a nod, and Hanson pulled up.
“Police. Jake. Come on out!”
They heard a commotion. Going against his better judgment and putting his own life at risk, Harvey descended wooden steps into a room that was dimly lit. Below the kitchen, the cramped room didn’t contain much, mostly jars of pickles and boxes of beer. It was obviously a storage or cold room. As soon as they came down, Payton came into view. Jake had his arm around her neck. Her shirt was slightly ripped exposing a portion of her bra. There was a cut on her lip. As soon as he caught sight of that he saw red. “Put it down!” he yelled at Jake who was holding a large knife to Payton’s neck and moving back and forth behind her in order to stay out of view. The coward was using her as a human shield. “Listen to me, Jake. You don’t want to do this. Payton has done nothing but be good to you. Now put the knife down and we can talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m not going back home.”
“That’s fine. Just put the knife down.”
“Stop telling me what to do. Everyone is always telling me what to do.”
“Okay. Okay. But you’re scaring Payton. I don’t think you want to do that.”
He could see the fear in his girl’s eyes. Everything in him wanted to just take the shot. But he was a kid. Nothing more than a screwed-up kid caught up in drugs.
Hanson appeared behind him. The moment Jake saw him he began yelling. “How many others are up there?”
“It’s just us.”
“Whoa, kid. We can talk this out,” Hanson said.
“I’m done talking.”
“Then what do you want?” Harvey asked.
“I want you to leave. Leave us alone.”
“I can’t do that,” Harvey said. “You know that.”
Tears flowed down his daughter’s red cheeks. In all his years
as a cop he never imagined he’d find himself in a situation like this. Hanson began to go to the right as Harvey moved in closer. “What are you doing?” Jake said. “I’ll cut her. I swear.”
“Hanson, get back.”
“I got this.”
“I’m telling you now. Get back!” he bellowed at him. For once Hanson listened. He backed up but didn’t leave the room. Harvey got closer, continuing to talk to Jake and use what negotiation skills he’d gained over the years. More often than not people could be talked down from the ledge of bad decisions but it got a lot harder when their mind was fogged up by chemicals. He kept one hand extended, and the other holding his service weapon. “Just give me the knife. I will listen to you. I will help you.”
Jake’s hand was shaking. Sweat poured from his brow.
Slowly but surely his hand released the knife and it dropped, clattering on the ground. Payton broke away from him, hurrying past her father and over to Hanson while Harvey breathed a sigh of relief. “See, it’s all good.”
He was about to approach him when Jake reached around and pulled out a pistol.
“Don’t!”
Before he could get close enough, Jake put it to his head and pulled the trigger. It all happened so fast. Harvey rushed in but it was too late. Payton screamed.
“Get her out of here!” Harvey yelled. Hanson removed her from the room leaving Harvey crouched over the dead teen. He was left speechless.
16
Skylar burst through the partially open front door at the community resource center, weapon drawn on the ready. Rainwater trickled down her face as she yelled, “Flathead County Sheriff’s Department. Austin!” There was no response. Upon arriving at the facility, she noticed his black SUV was still parked outside. The rest of the lot was empty. She moved down the hallway scanning doors. Her pulse sped up. The main hall was empty, as were each of the rooms. It was only as she was getting closer to Austin’s office that she could hear conversation. It was low, almost inaudible. Looking behind her, then scanning the doors either side, she cautiously approached.
Turning into the office, her heart hammering in her chest, she found it to be empty. Though clearly there had been some kind of commotion as paperwork was scattered all over the floor, a leather chair was overturned and the far window was cracked as if someone had slammed into it. That was when she saw blood on the window ledge. It was a partial handprint.
Her eyes turned to the desk.
The conversation was coming from two speakers either side of a computer.
Moving around, she focused in on the monitor that was playing a recording of an anger management session. The time stamp was from the day Jason Matthews died. It was the video session Austin had promised to send over to the police. She stood there for a minute longer observing it before a framed photo on the far wall caught her attention. It was of a 38-foot, blue and white Carver yacht. Austin Harrison was captured nearby holding up a large fish in what appeared to be the end of a fishing trip. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was taken down at Port St. Joe Marina. She recalled the comment Sara had made about Lamar’s friend finally finding a place on a boat. Skylar fished her phone out of her pocket and tried to make a call to Harvey as she dashed out of the office and back to the truck. This time, however, he didn’t answer because she was getting no signal. The storm was so bad it must have taken out cell towers in the area. “Damn it,” she said as she peeled out of the parking lot nearly losing control of the back end.
She would have called for backup from the Gulf County Sheriff’s Department but if she was right, there was no time. Fortunately, on her way to the marina she saw a number of cops assisting in the evacuation of residents. Skylar swerved to the edge of the road, brought her window down and flashed her shield. She brought them up to speed on the situation and had them radio for backup and get in contact with the Coast Guard. They couldn’t leave their assigned spot but they reassured her officers were on the way. Skylar gave a nod and took off. Mangroves, scrub brush and pine trees shot by in her peripheral vision as she gunned the engine, taking it far past the speed limit.
The marina was a gorgeous spot she’d brought the boat into a few times on her days off. Smaller than Carrabelle’s, it still offered all the amenities. The marinas along the coast often had to close due to the damage after a hurricane swept through. She wondered how it and the others would fare this time around.
Brakes squealed as Skylar cut into the lot and parked near the dock. There were three trucks parked outside, one of which she recalled had been at the resource center earlier in the day. She expected to see no boats in the water but there were still a few. They would pay the price for it. That was for sure.
With only a handful boats docked in the slips, it wouldn’t take long to find Austin’s. Getting out, Skylar felt like she was in a wind tunnel. Battered by the elements she forged ahead. As she came around a corner heading for a cluster of boats that were being hammered on all sides by water, she spotted Austin and David.
“David!” She pulled her service weapon.
David was dragging Austin towards the boat. He looked as if he was unconscious. As soon as David saw her, he released his grip on Austin and bolted for the large yacht. The only saving grace was he wasn’t armed otherwise things could have got ugly. Skylar took off after him, thighs pumping like pistons. Upon making it to where Austin lay unconscious, she crouched and placed a finger on his neck to check his pulse. He was still alive but badly beaten. Bursting forward, she could see David attempting to take the boat out of the slip as she barreled down the dock towards him. The weather was both a blessing and a curse. It was making the boat’s job harder because large crashing waves were smashing against the boat, pushing it back towards shore. The engine roared as David tried to give the yacht everything it had to escape.
Skylar raised her service weapon and yelled for him to turn off the boat but her voice was lost in the wind. Water churned up behind the boat as he managed to pull out. Skylar knew it was now or never. She bounded down the dock trying to gauge the distance between the walkway, the water and the yacht. There was a good chance she was going in but she wasn’t going to let him just disappear into the Gulf of Mexico.
After shoving her gun back into its holster, she sprinted towards the end and leaped. A moment in the unknown and her hands latched on to the side railing. Dangling from the side, the boat took off bouncing over the waves heading for choppy waters. David looked back and saw her struggling to hold on to the slippery metal. A surge of energy and she hoisted her right leg over the lip and found herself lying on her back, wet and trying to catch her breath. Large waves crashed over the boat filling it up as David released the throttle and lunged for her.
His body knocked the wind out of her as they collided and rolled to the back of the yacht which was now operating without a skipper. Skylar felt the full force of a fist to her face, and then David tried to reach for her weapon. A struggle ensued and she managed to wrap a leg over his head and force him down while simultaneously holding his wrist and yanking on it, performing an arm bar. He yelled in agony but parried the move with a sharp blow to her abdomen, followed by another until she let go.
At some point he managed to get loose and scooped up a one-inch thick rope. Aiming to have a fourth victim he came up behind Skylar and looped it over her neck while she was reeling from the blows to the gut. The rope tightened and she felt a knee dig into the center of her back as he applied pressure. She clawed at her neck, cutting into her skin as she tried to pry it away.
No words were exchanged. He was cold and calculated, a man given to violence.
Using every ounce of strength, Skylar managed to reach over, clasp his wrist and then pull him over her in a judo-style move. Though had it not been for a huge swell, she was certain she would have lost consciousness before performing it. As the boat hit the wave, both of them bounced up and the leverage she needed was there. David went over and crashed against the floor of the boat slipping down towards the
stern. His feet got caught up in the netting and as he tried to get up, he lost his footing and stumbled back over the lip. Skylar lunged forward, snagging the net with both hands to avoid losing him in the fierce waters that were engulfing the yacht from every side. It was the worst thing she could have done. The sheer force of waves, and the momentum of the boat caused her to go over into the cool waters. Now they were both tangled in the netting, struggling to keep themselves above the water as the yacht got further away. As she came up for air, a fist struck her in the face and she felt a hand push her head back under.
Dark swirling waters rushed down her throat and glimpses of her life appeared before her eyes. She came up and dodged his next hook, this time clawing at his face and digging her thumbs into his eyes. He screamed in pain before his voice was lost in a wave that buried them. Rolling and churning in the water, unable to tell what was up or down, Skylar thought she was going to die. It was in that moment on the edge of life and death that she saw her fiancé, Alex. He was more real to her than any dream. A longing to be with him overwhelmed her. A sudden hard tug on her leg and she snapped back into the present moment. David was below her trying to swim to the surface but at the same time dragging her down into a watery grave. Whether an act of God or not, she felt one leg untangle from the netting and she used it to kick him in the face. His head went back and she knew he was stunned. Desperate for that next breath she swam upwards but realized her other boot was still entwined. She had no choice but to reach down and try to pull it off. All the while both of them were being thrashed around by the storm. Torn between death’s door and surviving, her will to live kicked in and she managed to undo the zipper on her boot and pull her foot free. The last image she had wasn’t of Alex but of David disappearing down into darkness.
When Skylar breached the surface, she gasped like a child taking its first lungful of air. The second was filled with a wave as it crashed over her not willing to let her go. No longer embroiled with David, she was now in a fight for her life with Mother Nature. She considered herself a strong swimmer but never before had she found herself up against such strong waves. Every time she came up for air, another would roll over her forcing her body down. At some point she lost consciousness.
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