Dark Harbor
David K. Wilson
1
Sam Lawson slowly pulled himself back to consciousness, wincing at the burning pain shooting in the back of his head. He was lying on his side on a hardwood floor, but he wasn’t sure where. Everything was blurry and spinning, and all he could hear was a deafening ringing in his ears.
“Hello?” he called out, trying to get his bearings.
There was no answer.
He touched the source of pain on the back of his head and was relieved that he felt no blood. Only a massive goose egg where someone must have hit him.
He squinted and strained to focus his vision, but it was hard to find a focal point.
Where am I?
He attempted to recall the events leading up to his attack, but the memories were lost in the fog. He knew he needed to get up, so he rolled onto his stomach and tried to push himself up off the floor. But he was too weak and he collapsed back to the ground with a thud.
He laid there, his head to the side. The cold floor pressed against his cheek. He began to feel the veil slowly lifting. The blurriness was going away. The spinning was slowing down. The ringing was subsiding. He could make out the muffled sounds of a wind chime outside. He remembered those wind chimes. But from where?
He became aware of the unmistakable scent of gunpowder. Out of reflex, he immediately reached for the Glock 22 in his shoulder holster.
But it was missing.
He let out a loud groan as he pulled himself up on his elbows and looked around in the blackness, trying to adjust his eyes to the dark.
What was that on the other side of the room?
He squinted harder. There was definitely something there.
Or someone.
Had he been with someone else? He struggled to pull the buried memories back into his consciousness as he stared at what he was now certain was a person.
“You okay?” he asked.
But the shadowy mass didn’t respond.
Remembering he had a cell phone, Sam pulled it from the back pocket of his jeans. His hand-to-eye coordination was still scrambled as he struggled to open the screen. Finally, the phone sprang to life and the light from the screen cast a faint blue glow over the room.
Sam turned the screen toward the person lying across from him but still couldn’t make out the face. What he could see was blood.
Lots of blood.
2
3 days earlier…
Sam smiled at the feeling of the cold ocean spraying on his face.
It was a gorgeous early May afternoon as the large ferry sped across Vineyard Sound toward its destination in Oak Bluffs. Sam had positioned himself on the upper deck of the ship so he could enjoy the hour-long ride across the Atlantic. As the ferry cut through the choppy waters, wind whipped through Sam’s brown hair. Even though it was probably in the upper-70s, the wind made it feel much colder.
The ferry hit another wave, creating more spray. Sam let out a small laugh. He felt like a little kid on vacation. It wasn’t like he had never seen the ocean before. He’d been deep sea fishing in Galveston and Corpus Christi and had even been to Cozumel once. But Martha’s Vineyard was a different world to him. This was the place where presidents and musicians and movie stars lived.
Sam looked around to see if he could spot anyone famous on the ferry, but the passengers were clearly not a movie star crowd. Granted, it wasn’t quite tourist season yet. He imagined things would change a lot in the next month.
The ferry slowed as it neared Oak Bluffs and Sam took in the island. He watched as the ferry pulled into the harbor and was impressed with the captain’s precision as the massive ship aligned gently next to the dock.
A voice bellowed over the speakers to announce their arrival, and Sam flung his duffel bag over his shoulder and joined the other passengers as they headed toward the dock. Butterflies began to flutter in his stomach. Partly in excitement of this impromptu vacation, but mostly in anticipation of surprising Carla Davenport.
Carla and Sam had been dating for less than a year with a few rounds of breaking up and making up. They had recently gone through a bit of a rough patch, but seemed to be getting back on track. Unfortunately, right when things were taking a turn for the better, Carla’s sister, who lived on Martha’s Vineyard, had asked Carla to come stay with her. Her husband had left her, and she didn’t want to be alone.
Carla had subtly suggested Sam should join her on the trip, but he had been so preoccupied with a case he didn’t get the hints. Only in hindsight did he realize what she’d been asking. So here he was, either making a grand romantic gesture or a boneheaded impulsive mistake.
“Here goes nothing,” he muttered to himself as he flagged down the lone cab waiting outside the ferry terminal.
3
As Sam’s cab pulled into the driveway, he saw a woman emerge from the dark red farmhouse. He recognized her from pictures as Vanessa Mayhew, Carla’s sister.
The woman ran toward the cab with a panicked, worried look on her face. The driver raised a hand off the steering wheel in a casual wave but she didn’t even notice. Sam realized she was trying to see who was in the back seat. When she got close enough to the passenger door where she could see inside the cab clearly, her expression immediately melted into disappointment.
“Hey, Vanessa,” the driver said cheerily through the open car windows, completely ignoring the woman’s urgent mood.
The words were enough to break the woman out of her trance. She looked at the driver then back at Sam, clearly confused at the unexplained appearance of this stranger in her driveway.
Vanessa Mayhew had a slight build and was average height. Her large, almond eyes were red and puffy from crying. She had the same high cheekbones and full lips as Carla, but with little or no makeup and short, brown hair parted on the side, she had a more natural - even plain - beauty.
Sam waved meekly at the woman staring back at him from outside the car.
“I’m guessing you’re Vanessa,” he said with a grin.
She literally took a step back upon hearing her name uttered by this stranger.
“Do I know you?” she asked.
Before Sam could answer, Carla opened the front screen door and stepped out on to the porch.
“Sam?” she asked, stunned.
“Oh, this is fun,” the driver said with a chuckle.
But Sam barely heard him. His stomach was doing jumping jacks at the sight of his girlfriend. Carla was tall and lean and seemed younger than her 38 years. Her long, dark hair fell casually over her shoulders and she seemed more beautiful than ever.
Sam was used to seeing her with her hair pulled back, the way she wore it at her job as the Hubbard County Medical Examiner. It could almost look severe and definitely intimidating, which was probably Carla’s intent. But while she definitely looked softer with her hair down, he could tell from the tired look in her eyes she hadn’t been getting much sleep.
“What the hell?” she said as she walked toward the car, just as confused as her sister had been moments earlier. “What are you doing here?”
Sam took a deep breath. “Wish me luck,” he mumbled to the driver as he opened the cab door.
“If you don’t want me here, just say the word,” Sam said as he stepped out of the cab. “I just thought…”
Carla interrupted, throwing her arms around his six-foot frame.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she said, then pulled back quickly. “Is everything okay?”
Sam smiled. “It is now.”
Carla looked in his eyes, still in a state of disbelief but clearly happy.
“Looks like it’s safe for me to leave,” the driver laughed from inside the car. “Bye, Vanessa.”
Vanessa
, seeming to notice the driver for the first time, waved in recognition as the cab drove off. Carla turned toward her sister.
“Nessie, this is Sam!”
It all seemed to click in place, and Vanessa finally put the puzzle together.
“You’re Sam?”
Sam smiled at Vanessa and reached out his hand to shake hers. He was stunned to see she was not sharing in the enthusiasm. In fact, her face had gone white and her expression was as somber as her words.
“You’re here about Norm, aren’t you?”
4
Sam thanked Carla for the glass of ice water, even though he wished it was something much stronger. His surprise visit and impromptu vacation had quickly taken a turn.
It took a good fifteen minutes to convince Vanessa that a homicide detective showing up at her door had nothing to do with her missing husband. Looking at it from her perspective, Sam could see how she could get the wrong idea. Her husband, Norm, had left in a huff over a week ago and still hadn’t returned. When Vanessa realized the man that showed up on her doorstep was Carla’s Sam, someone she knew was a detective, she had understandably skipped over the, Aww, he came to see my sister reaction and dove head first into the They think my husband has been murdered pool.
Vanessa’s home was nestled well off the beaten path in Chilmark, a charming rural village on the west side of the island. Sitting on her back deck, the three of them were enjoying the picturesque view of rolling hills and green pastures traced with stone fences. It was what Sam imagined an Irish countryside would look like.
And then there was the ocean. Sitting just past the meadows, about a half mile away, he could see the deep blue waters forming the horizon. A brilliant blue sky sat in contrast above.
“Man, this is gorgeous,” Sam said. “Except for that slice of blue ocean out there, it’s a lot more country than I expected. I dig it.”
An ocean breeze wafted over them and Sam leaned back to take it all in, but Vanessa wasn’t very interested in Sam’s R&R. Now that she knew Sam was here to visit, she realized she had the ear of a detective and was going to take full advantage.
In a frantic yet hushed voice, she told Sam how she and Norm had had a big fight just over a week ago. She paused, waiting for Sam to ask what the fight was about. But Sam was enjoying the warm sun and cool breeze too much to take the hint.
Realizing he wasn’t going to ask, she continued. They were fighting about new equipment for Norm’s fishing boat. Norm was a commercial fisherman. Spring was generally fluke season and it brought in a steady income. But this year, Norm had been approached by some of the younger fisherman about raising - and later harvesting - blue mussels. If it worked out, it could be a steady source of income year-round. Norm had taken a significant chunk of their savings to invest in it—without consulting with Vanessa first.
“It’s probably a good investment,” Vanessa admitted. “I’m sure it is. But it’s the fact that he did it without asking me. That’s our nest egg. He can’t do that.”
Not wanting to get caught up in that squabble, Sam nodded and sipped his water.
“Yeah,” he said. “I can see how that could get you riled up.”
“He was just as riled up as me,” Vanessa said defensively. “He got all defensive and started twisting my words. Anyway, it was a doozy of a fight. One of our worst.”
Carla had already told him that they fought regularly. He wondered where this last fight fell on the Mayhew Fight Meter.
“He got mad and stormed out, like he always does,” she continued. “And I went to bed. Like I always do.”
“But when he didn’t come home…” Sam said, helping her get to the end of her story.
“Sometimes he takes off for a day or two,” Vanessa said. “Just goes out on his boat. Or stays with some friends on the Cape. But a few days went by and he didn’t come back. And he didn’t take his boat. And his friends never saw him.”
Carla sat down next to Sam and put her hand on his knee. He looked at her to see if she was annoyed at her sister hogging his time. But instead, he saw a sincere concern in Carla’s eyes. While he had been fully prepared to take off his detective hat for a few days and devote his attention to Carla, he got the sense she wanted him to help as much as Vanessa did. He sat up to listen more intently.
“What did the police say?” he asked.
Vanessa scoffed. “They just think it’s Norm being Norm. But this is different. I can tell. I’m really worried. By now, he would have at least called.”
At that moment, there was the unmistakable creaking sound of a door opening. It startled Vanessa and she jumped up.
“Hello?” a male voice yelled out from inside the house.
5
Vanessa let out a sigh of recognition when she heard the voice.
“We’re out here,” she yelled into the house then turned to Sam.
“It’s Jude,” she explained. “My father-in-law. He’s also my partner with the lavender farm.”
Sam stood to greet a tall man in his early 60s. He was sturdy and solid and his receding salt and pepper hair was cut short so it blended right into his stubbly beard. From his weathered and tanned skin, it was clear to Sam that he lived his life outdoors.
Jude saw Sam, then looked at Vanessa. Sensing his confusion, Sam jumped in, extending his hand.
“Sam Lawson,” he said. “I’m Carla’s…I know Carla.”
He hated describing himself as a boyfriend. It felt so high schoolish. But he didn’t know what else to say. Friend sold their relationship short. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to say he was Carla’s lover.
“He’s my boyfriend,” Carla chimed in.
Hearing her say it out loud took Sam by surprise. He liked the way it sounded when she said it.
Jude shook Sam’s hand. His grip was strong and purposeful.
This guy’s a real man’s man, Sam thought, unconsciously puffing up his chest a little.
“You’re the Texas cop,” Jude said. “You might come in handy around here.”
“I’ll definitely do what I can,” Sam answered.
Jude nodded and turned his attention to Vanessa.
“I need to go over some inventory before I head to the store,” he said to her.
Vanessa nodded and led Jude back inside. Sam turned to Carla. It was the first time they’d been alone since his arrival, and he suddenly found himself at a loss for words. Carla reached over and squeezed his hand.
“I can’t believe you’re really here.”
“Hope it’s okay,” Sam said. “I mean, I know you told me I could, but I hope you weren’t just saying that to be polite and I showed up anyway and now I’ve made a total ass out of myself but you can’t tell me because you’re way too polite.”
“I asked you because I wanted you to come,” she said.
She shifted in her chair.
“I’ve done a lot of thinking the last few days,” she said gently. “About us.”
“Uh oh,” Sam said. “Here it comes.”
After about six months of dealing with his impulsive, never-a-dull-moment lifestyle, Carla honestly didn’t know if she could handle the stress of it all and had put things on hold. But she soon realized their relationship was too important to at least not try to make it work.
“I don’t want to lose you, Sam,” she said.
Sam’s shoulders relaxed and he grinned. “Good thing. Because I’m harder to get rid of than dog crap on a boot.”
Carla shook her head and laughed.
“I just wasn’t prepared for you coming here,” she said. “I really didn’t think you would.”
“I knew this was a mistake,” Sam sighed.
“No,” she assured him. “It was a wonderful idea. It’s just…my sister is kind of high maintenance right now. She needs a lot of my attention.”
“No problem,” Sam said. “You do what you gotta do. I’ll just enjoy a little vacation. Sleep in late. Sneak away. You won’t even know I’m here.”
; “That’s the thing,” she said. “I don’t know if you noticed or not, but this is a small house.”
“Great view, though,” he countered.
“It’s a one bedroom. I’ve been sleeping on the couch,” she said.
She looked at Sam and waited for him to fill in the dots. He finally did.
“So, you’re saying there’s no room in the inn.”
“We’ll figure something out,” Carla offered.
Sam kissed her on the forehead.
“I’ll sleep in my car,” he said. “Except I, uh, don’t have a car here.”
Carla laughed.
“There’s a room in the back,” she said. “There’s so much junk, you can’t even walk through it. But this will be a good excuse to clean it out.”
“I heard that,” Vanessa said, walking back out on the porch with Jude.
“You keep talking about cleaning it up,” Carla said. “You don’t have to do a thing. Sam and I will do it.”
“There’s still the issue of a bed,” Vanessa said. “Although I suppose you could get a decent air mattress at the hardware store.”
“I’ve slept on worse,” Sam said.
“I’ll track down a mattress,” Jude offered.
“I appreciate it,” Sam said.
Jude nodded back in response.
Vanessa handed a framed photo to Sam.
“This is for you,” she said. “That’s my Norm. If you’re going to find him, you’ll need to know what he looks like.”
Sam studied the photo of the man sitting on a boat with the sun setting behind him. He looked to be in his mid-40s, with unkempt brown hair and a scruffy beard. His tan skin was weathered by the ocean sun, giving him crow’s feet and deep laugh lines that were made even more pronounced by the huge grin on his face.
“He looks pretty happy here,” Sam said.
“That’s because he’s on his boat,” Vanessa answered. “That’s his baby.”
Dark Harbor Page 1