Page 65 of The Drowned Woman
“She once tossed him off a crime scene. He wanted to search the body before she finished documenting the scene.” Harper glanced toward the trauma bay, a gleam of appreciation in her gaze. “Got into a huge shouting match, right there in front of everyone. And Maggie won.”
“Good for her. Now if we can just make sure this damn interview doesn’t turn into another shouting match.” Not for the first time, Leah wished Luka was here.
“Good luck with that.” Harper went to get Risa to escort her to the CIC interview room.
Leah lingered, her gaze caught by the scribbled calculations Maggie left behind. If Cliff really did die hours earlier, then why go through the elaborate video countdown? Like the message to Luka about his fiancée’s engagement ring, it all felt so… contrived. A magician’s patter, designed to distract you with a story while the real sleight of hand was happening right under your nose.
Chaos lied. But he also did everything for a reason. What was he trying to distract them from? Was something bigger happening elsewhere? If they could find out, maybe they could catch him. Before he killed again.
Thirty-Nine
Emily froze. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the masked man. The mask had plastic over the eyes, reflecting the storm clouds racing through the sky above him, as if he was part of the sky. Was she dreaming? Then she saw the rifle he carried. A strangled noise slipped past her clenched lips and she clapped her hand to her mouth. Quiet… Daddy said to be quiet so the bad man didn’t find her.
Nate grabbed her arm and yanked her so hard she spun all the way around, away from the man with the gun.
“Run!” Nate ordered. They hurled themselves down the trail. Emily barely saw where they were going, everything was a blur, her mind filled with flashes of memory, of the night Daddy was killed.
The trail ended in a field of broken corn stalks and mud and weeds that brushed against Emily’s knees.
“Where are we? Where do we go?” Nate asked her, panic filling his voice.
Emily stood, her breath heaving in through her mouth all the way down to her toes, past her toes even, as if she was a mouse and could burrow her way into the earth, hide.
But there was no place to hide.
Be brave, be strong, Daddy whispered. Emily didn’t feel brave and she wasn’t strong. She was scared. But just like Daddy had saved her, she had to save Nate. After all, it was her fault he was there.
“This way,” she told him, taking his arm and crouching low to hide below the highest weeds along the edge of the field.
The field ended in a rickety barbed wire fence with some cows behind it. Past the cows was a collection of buildings: a big red barn, a shorter metal building like an airplane hangar open on two ends, a farmhouse, a few smaller buildings behind it, and two double-wide trailers. The Homan farm.
“We can hide in one of the barns,” Nate whispered. The sound of four-wheelers slipping in the mud, their engines whining, came from behind them.
They skirted the cow pasture and entered the main compound. Two men came out of one of the trailers and seemed to be arguing about something. They headed toward the metal hanger building where there were several cars and trucks squeezed in. It had no doors, so they crept around the back of the larger barn until they were on the other side of the building where the men were, so at least they were hopefully out of sight. There was a chicken coop with a small yard and beside it was another area behind a short chain link fence with a plastic doghouse that had a broken roof.
A sad-looking dog circled a pair of empty bowls. From the ruts it had left in the muddy grass, it must have been pacing for hours.
“Poor thing,” Nate said. “He must be so thirsty. Look at how his tongue is hanging out.”
Before she could stop him, Nate swung himself up over the fence and emptied his water bottle into the dog’s bowl. The dog didn’t make a sound, didn’t even bare its teeth, as if it was used to people trespassing in its space. In fact, when Nate first raised his hand to open the bottle, the dog had cringed and slunk backwards, head ducked as if it expected to be punished.
“Nate,” Emily whispered. “Get back here. We need to find a way out.” She’d given up on their mission of retrieving Nate’s great’s medal—getting back home to Nellie’s without being shot was the new mission. Behind her, two men on four-wheelers came roaring into the compound, pulling up in front of the building with all the cars and trucks. They were laughing as they dismounted, slinging their guns off their shoulders.
“No, we can’t leave him.” Nate picked his way through mud and grass, the dog backing up until it was against the fence near Emily. Up close she could see its eyes were crusty, its hair matted, and there were red stripes crisscrossed across its back. Nate crouched down, keeping some distance. The dog finally met his eyes but bared its teeth and gave a small growl. “It’s okay, boy. I’m not gonna hurt you. Go on, get your drink. I know you’re thirsty.”
Nate stood to one side and the dog slunk past, edging around to keep Nate in sight. Then it got close to the water bowl and its thirst overcame any fear as it dipped its entire head in and lapped it up.
“The coast is clear,” Emily whispered to him after the men went inside the main house. The clouds had almost blocked the sun and the first drops of rain were falling. Ruby was going to be so angry. “C’mon, let’s go.”
Nate was halfway to the kennel’s fence when a noise came from the farmhouse. He froze and glanced over his shoulder.
Emily followed his gaze. Billy and Jimmy were coming down the porch, headed straight for the dog’s yard. And they both held rifles.
“Nate, get out of there. Now!”
Forty
While Luka waited for the Smithfield PD to respond, he paced the sidewalk in front of the house with the corpse in the hot tub and called Leah, hoping for an unofficial update on both the case and how Nate was doing. Her phone went straight to voicemail, telling him that she must still be in Risa’s interview. He considered calling Ruby but decided he didn’t want Nate to think he was being too intrusive. Then by the return leg of his third lap between the houses on either side of the crime scene, he’d decided that Leah had the right idea and that he needed to get Nate his own phone. Maybe not a smartphone, but at least an old-fashioned “dumb” one.
