Murder Comes Ashore Page 10

  I’d watch his reactions as he answered. He had as much access to the ocean as anyone and he stayed on the rig at night when the seashore was clear of beach goers. How hard did scientists work for funding? How far would they go to get it? Maybe the fishermen had a beef with the biologist, not the other way around. Maybe the fishermen took offense to Mr. Trent feeding the sharks human chum. My imagination churned at high speed, creating more questions by the minute.

  Winding blacktop curved through the forest, splitting the trees into two giant shadows. Ancient tree branches loomed overhead, fighting off the sun until midday. Shafts of light broke through the leaves, spilling hues of orange and gold onto the road before me, decorating my path. A pack of birders with accordion-style maps puttered along the road’s edge wearing wide-brimmed hats and water-bottle necklaces. Scents of earth and pine hung in the air, stifling the ever-present salt and brine aroma. The dense forest snuffed out everything else, even the pristine sand of our national shoreline and the endless ocean. Another reason I limited my time in the forest. Who knew what the ponies did under cover of pine.

  Nightmarish images dissipated as the vast blue sea appeared before me. In a minute’s time, the heavy trees fell away and sun shone everywhere. White sand glittered against the steel gray water. Little wave breaks glistened, beckoning me in for a swim. I filled my lungs with the salty scent of home. The Prius slid into its usual spot, as far as possible from the changing stations and public showers, and I enjoyed the peaceful morning walk.

  The science rig stood tall and mighty beside the pier. No need to commandeer a boat and drive out to wherever Mr. Trent had anchored the night before. The day was made of wonderful. My heart had that anything-is-possible feeling as my sandals beat a rhythm against the weathered planks of the pier. I whistled an improvised tune. Terribly. But with enthusiasm. This girl was going home with answers. I stutter-stepped at the pier’s end when the rig’s wide-open cabin door came into focus. Uh-oh. If Mr. Trent was up and ready to work, he might resist my inquisition.

  I darted onto the rig’s deck and popped my head into the open door. “Hello?” I rapped my knuckles on the metal wall. An echo carried around the room filled with lights and doo-dads and blinky things.

  “Mr. Trent?” I crossed the threshold and spoke louder. A large blue dot blinked on one screen. I trailed my fingertips across it. “James Trent?” I scooted away from his command station before I broke something. If he came back and found me inside, my odds of getting answers lowered dramatically. “Hello?”

  Nothing.

  Afraid I’d missed him on deck, I dipped back out and walked the rig’s perimeter. Huh. I braced my hands on hips and mulled over the situation. Why would he leave the door open? Probably because no one wanted to break into a scientist’s rig and he had no reason to lock it. Or maybe it was an open-door policy with the rangers and other workers at the forest and seashore. The rangers didn’t lock their stations. Did they? Or maybe the door was open to catch the breeze. Today was slated as another hot one.

  I leaned over the railing. He might’ve gone for coffee. Maybe he stayed over at the pathologist’s place? Shoot. I’d assumed she’d go home with him to a stinky science rig when she likely had a nice non-floating home somewhere on the island. On my way back to the dock, I stuck my head in the open door once more for due diligence.

  No one.

  Fine. I jumped down to the pier and half speed walked, half jogged back toward the beach. If I made it to the harbor before seven, the day wasn’t lost. Seven o’clock shift change meant fishermen galore. Night fishermen came in. Day fishermen arrived for work. A virtual feast of opinions and gossip.

  Halfway down the pier, I stopped short. Something in the water bobbed unnaturally. Not an ocean creature. Too big for trash. The long gray planks partially obstructed my view. The thing on the water disappeared beneath me. What I saw resembled...oh no. I peered through the wooden planks as I drew closer. Yep. It looked like a leg. I slowed my pace with each new step. Uncertainty coursed through me. Did I want to know if the leg was attached to someone? A floating leg wrenched my gut, but a floating person? My hand swept upward to cover my mouth. I knelt at the pier’s edge and leaned forward.

  Ugh. Bile flooded my mouth and I coughed back a gag. Tears filled my eyes, blurring my vision as I took out my phone and dialed the only number my mind could grasp. Adrenaline fueled my limbs as the phone rang. What if the floater was alive? I threw my phone onto the pier and dove in.

  My limbs twisted in the water, suddenly alive with purpose and powered by years of lifeguarding and swim team practice. I grabbed the man under his arms and turned him onto his back. Dragging a grown man in the water was easy. He floated along with me as I sidestroked us to shore. My bare feet dug into the sand and waves pushed him forward. His eyelids were at half-mast. He was dead. His skin was cold. His limbs slightly rigid. The rig cast a shadow over us. Was he attacked by the sharks he studied?

  I laid my head against his water-logged chest and listened. Silence. My fingers twitched at my sides. I tilted his head back and breathed into his dead mouth. Scrambling to remember protocol, I locked my hands together and compressed his chest, counting off each beat. One. Two. Three. Four.

  “Help!” I screamed. Birders must be somewhere nearby, on the beach or in the nearby trees.

  Don’t be dead.

  One. Two. Three. Four.

  Don’t be dead.

  “Help!” Tears streamed down my face and a sob blew over my lips. What was happening to my beloved seashore?

  Voices pierced the silence. A handful of people ran toward us, phones in hand. The barrage of sensations set me back in the sand. James Trent’s lifeless body lay before me. Only hours ago he’d been smiling like a frat kid at a kegger. They say in times of crisis we reveal our true selves, and in that moment all I could think of was myself. The menacing words scrawled on a paper meant for me.

  Leave this alone or you’re next.

  Mr. Trent’s unseeing eyes pointed skyward. Had he seen his killer? Did he know the monster who did this? He had answers to my every question, except one. Why hadn’t I arrived sooner?

  Someone cried nearby. Wind whipped hair and sand into my eyes and they burned. My sunglasses were gone. So were my sandals.

  “Patience?” Adrian slid into the sand beside me like a ballplayer stealing home. His strong arms engulfed me, pulled me against his broad chest and buried my face in the curve of his neck. “I was out jogging and I saw you go on the rig. When you dove off the pier I almost had a heart attack. There are sharks in there. I didn’t see him until you dragged him ashore.”

  I couldn’t speak.

  “Shh. I’m here. It’s okay. You did good. Real good.” He pressed one hand to the back of my head, holding my face away from Mr. Trent. The world shook with every rasping breath. Adrian’s free hand rubbed the skin on my arms.

  “Can we get a dry towel over here?” Adrian yelled over the sound of sirens.

  A pile of beach blankets landed before us. Only then did I realize how cold it was. My teeth chattered. Sobs shuddered from my chest.

  “She okay?” Sebastian’s careful tone surprised me. When did he get here? How long was I curled in Adrian’s arms?

  “Yeah. She’s going to be fine.” Adrian pressed his lips to my hair.

  “I’ll take her home when we’re done here. Will you stay with her until then? The ambulance just pulled in. I’ll call another. He won’t need this one.” Sebast
ian’s shadow drifted away.

  Adrian pulled me to my feet and led me away from the beach. Sebastian spoke with Sheriff Doofus and a gaggle of concerned citizens at the pier. I could almost feel his watchful brown eyes burning into my back as Adrian and I moved away.

  “He’s dead,” I whispered, hoping somehow it wasn’t true.

  “Yeah.” Adrian ushered me into the back of a waiting ambulance where a wide-eyed blonde shined a pen in my eyes.

  The paramedic checked my vitals and wrapped an itchy blanket over my shoulders. “You should get out of those clothes. I have an outfit in my bag you’re welcome to. A T-shirt and jog shorts.” She looked fresh out of college. Shiny. Not yet jaded. She set a pink and white polka dotted bag at my feet.

  I nodded, unable to speak through chattering teeth.

  She took her clipboard and moved to the front seat. “It’s all yours.”

  Adrian tugged the hem of my shirt up over my ribs and I sucked air. All the feelings. My brain did a flickering lightbulb thing and shut down. “D-do you think he-he-he f-fell in?”

  “I don’t know.” Adrian put my sopping wet top aside and patted my icy skin with a towel from one of the helpful citizens on the beach. He pulled a new shirt from the girl’s bag and tugged it over my head.

  “He-he-he w-was drunk l-last night. He-he could have...”

  “Maybe.” His fingertips dusted the skin beneath the hem of my new shirt as he tugged it down.

  I grabbed Adrian’s wrist. “W-w-what are you d-doing?” Strands of wet hair clung to my face, trapped in my eyelashes. He freed his wrist and pushed the hair from my eyes. I blinked wildly, unable to clear my mind of questions and images. “Your clothes are soaked. The new shirt will be too if you leave on a wet...” He motioned to my barely B’s. Before I’d steadied my hands to remove it, he snapped his fingers against the front closure and my bra popped open.

  “Ah!” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Relax.”

  Sure. How many times had I heard that one?

  He removed his hands from my shirt and slipped them into my sleeves instead. Expertly, he slid the straps from my shoulders and threaded the black-and-white lace through the armholes. If I wasn’t having a mental breakdown, it might’ve impressed me.

  Adrian’s stormy blue eyes never left mine, not for a minute, not even when the new white shirt clung to my cold puckered skin. “Are you still okay?”

  No. My head bobbled like a dashboard dolly.

  He moved his fingers into the waistband of my shorts. “Still okay?”

  “Mmm.” My teeth chattered. “He was in wah-wah-one piece.”

  “You want to do this part?” Something like fear touched the corners of his eyes as I leaned against the gurney and lifted my hips. The set of his mouth drooped. My limbs trembled uselessly. “Patience? I can step outside for the rest. You can do this. Okay? Can you hear me?”

  His expression bordered on panic. How many times had he seen my panties? A million? A zillion? He spread an itchy blanket over me from the waist down, covering everything that mattered. Lifting the blanket slightly, he moved his arms underneath, curling hot fingers around the top layer of elastic at my waist. I wondered if he planned to magically remove my panties through one leg hole next. Thoughts piled upon thoughts.

  My mind raced through the day that had started so perfectly. I woke early. Had coffee. Drove to the shore. Planned questions for the biologist...who was dead. Adrian undressed me. All before 7:00 a.m. Another day in the life of crazy.

  “I can help her with...that.” The paramedic’s voice startled me. I’d forgotten she was there.

  “Thank you.” Adrian deflated. His fingers relaxed inside the soaking wet cotton of my shorts, but he didn’t move. Worry creased his brow as he searched my face.

  I pulled in a shuddery breath and lifted my hips. Adrian shimmied the shorts over my thighs and down my calves. I accepted the dry shorts balanced on the EMT’s fingertips. Humility was a bitch. “Thank you.”

  She smiled, and the tremors lessened to little more than chills and shock. Adrian turned his back to me as I wiggled into the dry shorts and out of my panties.

  “No spare panties.” She pushed her bottom lip out.

  “S’kay.” Did she think I’d wear her panties?

  “If Trent’s death wasn’t an accident, the person who hurt him probably also wasn’t the person chopping people into bait.” Adrian cleared his throat a few times as he spoke. “A couple shark bites aside, he was whole.”

  I suppressed a gag. I hadn’t seen any bites. Oh, gross. “Right.”

  Were there two killers? Just one killer in a hurry? No time for chopping? Endless questions popped into mind. “Here.” I adjusted my position on the gurney and handed Adrian my wet things. Water dripped from each item.

  “You couldn’t help him.” Adrian stared into my eyes. “You know that, right? You couldn’t.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I know how much you want to save the world.” Adrian tossed my bra over one shoulder and arranged my shirt and shorts in a neat pile on one arm. “He was gone long before you saw him. The fact you tried to save him anyway...” He shook his head, eyes locked on mine. Emotion swirled in his deep blues.

  The EMT sighed beside me.

  Two sharp knocks on the ambulance doors made us all jump. “Patience?”

  Sebastian swung the doors wide and froze. Serious brown eyes narrowed on Adrian and the pair of panties dangling from his fingertip. Sebastian widened his stance and growled. Literally growled.

  Adrian’s face split into the widest smile ever seen. He lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “I had to help her out of those wet clothes.”

  “Out.” Sebastian pointed at Adrian’s chest.

  Adrian took another look at me. The cockiness disappeared for one long beat before he hopped out of the ambulance. The three of us watched his easy saunter across the beach. The paramedic sighed again.

  Sebastian’s lips were a hard straight line and as close to white as I’d seen them. His beautiful tan had a reddish-purple tint.

  “She’s free to go.” The EMT scrambled into the front seat. As far from us as possible. “You can keep the outfit.”

  I flopped against the gurney in a fit of pique. Sebastian didn’t have to bully Adrian. Adrian didn’t need to provoke Sebastian.

  A phone rang and Sebastian handed it to me. “You left this on the dock when you called me before diving into shark infested waters.”

  “Hello?”

  A voice I didn’t recognize greeted me on the other end. I didn’t catch the woman’s name, but I recognized the agency behind it. My renter’s insurance company. I rolled my eyes a few times and then disconnected.

  “What was that about?”

  “The insurance company finished their investigation of the damage to my office and they aren’t cutting me a check to replace lost contents at the boathouse. Apparently my renter’s insurance won’t pay if the cause of the fire is an intentionally cut gas line and improperly stored fireworks.”

  Sebastian’s lips twitched.

  “You think that’s funny?” I scoffed, inching my way off the gurney. He wrapped an arm around my waist and helped me into the sand.

  “No. You know what else isn’t funny? The fact you turned up at another crime scene today.”

  “Hey, it wasn’t a crime scene when I got here.”

  He arched his eyebrows.

  “I didn’t break in. The door was op
en, and I barely touched anything.”

  “I think you shouldn’t say anything else right now.” He tipped his chin to an approaching Sheriff Doofus.

  “You want to tell me what you were doing out here so early in the morning, Patience?” The temporary sheriff hooked his thumbs into his belt loops and rocked on his heels. “Leaving your phone on when you dove in was a smart move.”

  It wasn’t a plan as much as I couldn’t afford another new phone. I’d made the call for help and tossed the phone behind me on the pier before diving into the water. My phone would’ve been ruined in the ocean. “I came to welcome Mr. Trent to Chincoteague.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Nope. He wasn’t on the rig, so I headed home. That’s when I saw him in the water. I mean, I didn’t know it was him at first. I thought it was a leg. Then I saw the rest of him, but he was face down, so I jumped in.”

  “I’m going to take her home and come back. Have you checked the rig thoroughly?” Sebastian wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

  “Yep. Rig’s clear,” our acting sheriff confirmed.

  “I’ll be back in thirty minutes.” Sebastian and I turned for the lot.

  BAM! BOOM! WHOOSH!

  I pressed my face to Sebastian’s chest. He swore. Loudly. I pressed my hands to my cheeks, shielding my eyes from the brilliant yellow and orange flames shooting into the sky.

  “Holy Mackerel!” Sheriff Doofus marveled at the scene before us. He had obviously done a great job checking the rig.

  Clusters of people swarmed the shoreline. Birders ran from the forest snapping pictures. Hunks of debris floated in the water around planks of wood. Twisted scraps of red metal harpooned the beach and black smoke clogged my lungs as the steady breeze drove the acrid smoke our way. Sirens blared in the distance.