Death Comes Ashore

by Corinne O'Flynn

  “Corey, where you been? I’ve been calling you,” Young said. “I was about to perform a summoning spell to find you.”

  Corey rolled her eyes. “Very funny.”

  “Aw, come on, partner… you know you want to try it. Just a little.”

  “Actually no. I really don’t.” She couldn’t keep the annoyance from her voice.

  “All right. No need to get testy. It’s just that my cousin once found his neighbor’s missing chihuahua using a summoning spell. The little guy walked right back to their front door after being gone for two whole weeks.”

  Corey pinched the top of her nose. “Missing chihuahua? Really? I am not having this conversation.”

  “When in Rome, partner. Just because you don’t have mad skills don’t mean you can’t do some stuff.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Don’t deny who you are, all I’m saying. Anyway, so where you been?”

  She inhaled, ready to blast him for needling her, but was glad for the change of subject. “I had no signal, I’m just leaving the marina. Talked to the boyfriend.”

  “I got a call. A couple of deputies picked up a guy out at Bass Point trying to use Wanika Soto’s credit card.”

  Corey gripped the phone. Finally, something concrete. “OK. I’m heading your way. I’ll swing by and pick you up.”

  Chapter Seven

  The doors of the MCU building slid open as Young stepped out. He hopped into the waiting Toyota. Corey didn’t wait for him to shut the door. She hit the gas and peeled out of the parking lot, turning onto the two-lane, heading across to Bass Point on the west coast of the island.

  Young gripped the handle over his shoulder to steady himself. “Whoa, slow down, Corey.”

  Corey eased off the gas and loosened her hold on the steering wheel. She flexed her hands to release the ache from gripping the wheel so tight. “Sorry.”

  “You okay?” Young’s blue eyes smoldered in the afternoon sun. He slid his sunglasses on.

  “Yeah. Just thinking.” Everything about this case rang through her, touched her in a way no other case had before. She wondered if it was because Alicia and Bronwyn brought the case close to home of if she was just being triggered by all the memories being dredged up at the similarities between her and Nikki. She didn’t like feeling clouded.

  She decided to do what she always did and stuck to the mundane facts. “I feel so impatient with this case, wondering when we’ll get a break. You know how they say the first forty-eight hours are the most important for a missing person’s case? Maybe it’s because it’s Alicia. Someone we know, right? But I can practically feel time slipping away.” Corey’s mind flipped through the details.

  A girl was dead. A girl whose similarities to Corey set her on edge, poked at the demons she’d worked so hard to hide away. And another girl was missing. This one close, her friend’s daughter. She had to get a handle on her emotions if there was going to be any hope of finding Nikki Soto’s killer and locating Alicia.

  She wondered what her shrink would say if she knew how close Corey was to losing it. She imagined sitting across from her therapist and letting the doc attempt to dig through the tangled mess of … whatever this was. It’s been years since she sat with her doctor… if felt like a thing from her childhood, from her trauma time… No. Thinking about this didn’t do any good.

  Even if Corey could explain how this case was already under her skin, she was on her own. She took a hand off the wheel and squeezed it in her lap, making a tight fist until her hand fatigued. Then she spread her hand open and did it again. “We’ve been going all day and haven’t figured anything out, you know?”

  “All part of the fancy Inspector life, right?” Young said. “Well, let’s talk it through. What do we know?”

  Corey took a deep breath while her mind organized the facts. “Nikki Soto, age twenty-one and Alicia Turnkey, twenty, met up last night after Alicia got off work at HQ. That was a little after three. They left there to pick up Damien Cooper at a boat he’s working on over at the marina. Damien wasn’t there. Witness in a neighboring boat was in and out, didn’t see anything. Nikki left this for Damien.” Corey reached behind her, tugged her backpack open, and pulled out the note, the pink paper visible through the clear plastic evidence bag.

  Young took the bag and peered at the note. “What about a vehicle?”

  “Roommate says Nikki drives a light blue Jeep. I’ve got a call in to get a year and a plate. It’s not at the apartment or the parking lot at the marina.”

  “Okay. When we get back we’ll put an alert on the Jeep,” Young said. “Check out the witness from the other boat, too.”

  “Yeah.” Corey’s phone buzzed. She didn’t recognize the number. “Inspector Proctor.”

  “Hi. Uh, hey. Inspector Proctor? This is Mike Rhodes. Ellen’s roommate?”

  “Mike, thanks for calling.”

  “Ellen said you have some questions? About Nikki?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. Are you around this evening? I’d like to stop by, talk in person.”

  “Sure, when? I have class at nine.”

  Corey glanced at the dashboard clock. It was coming up on seven o’clock in the evening. “No problem. I can be there in about an hour. That work?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be here.”

  Corey switched her blinker on and turned down the narrow lane that led to Bass Point Shopping Center and the shore. Broken branches and leaves littered the narrow grassy area around the shaded pavilion near the bike trail. Sand thrown from the beach during last night’s storm dusted the asphalt. She turned the Toyota into the small parking lot and slammed on the breaks. The truck skidded over the sandy pavement.

  Young braced himself against the dashboard with his hands. “Whoa, what the…? We really gotta get you using portals for travel, girl. You drive like a maniac!”

  “Look,” Corey said, tipping her chin beyond the unmarked black MCU cruiser sitting at an angle behind a beat-up old van. Her gaze was squarely on an old Jeep Wrangler, light blue, parked in the far corner of the lot.

  “You think it’s Soto’s?”

  “I think the odds are astronomical. What are you thinking?”

  He arched a brow at her. “I think we just got our second break.”

  “I hope so.” She pulled in near the MCU cruiser and parked. Young got out and ran over to the Jeep.

  “Hey, Corey.” Officer Donald Black, a stocky, dark-haired officer walked over to her, met her at her door.

  “Hey, Donny, how’s it going? How’s the new baby?” She looked over the officer’s shoulder at a guy sitting down on a picnic bench.

  “Eh, the usual.” He smiled. “Small, smelly, noisy.”

  “Who’s the guy?”

  “Aw, come on, you know my partner, Shibby.”

  Corey tolerated the teasing. She nodded at Officer Alualu, a gigantic Hawaiian transplant whose nickname meant ‘awesome.’ “No, the other guy… On the bench.”

  “Ah, him. Name’s Jamie Wilton. He’s a ‘dane. Just a beach troll, we see him around.”

  Corey nodded at the name the locals used for penniless beachcombers who lived in cars and shacks and moved around the island in the warmer months.

  “Stupid. Tried to use a credit card at McCall’s, like there’s any way he suddenly has enough plastic for a new wardrobe. Owner took the card and called it in. Monitors picked it up and sent us out. You got a robbery?”

  Corey shook her head, no. “Did he say where he got it?”

  “Dude had the whole wallet.” Officer Black said. “Says he found it in the trash.”

  Her wallet. Corey’s heart raced in her chest. “Mind if I talk to him?”

  “Be my guest.” Officer Black turned and held his arm out as if letting her lead the way.

  Corey walked over to the scruffy guy on the bench. He looked to be in his mid-twenties. He had the sun-bleached hair and bronzed skin of someone who lived in the sun. A plastic bag sat on the table. Corey picked it up. A sli
m orange wallet and two credit cards shifted inside. The card on top read: Wanika R. Soto.

  “Mr. Wilton, I’m Inspector Proctor. I need to know where you got this.”

  “I already told the goons, man. I found it in the trash.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder toward the pavilion. A dented metal trash can stood next to a blue plastic recycling bin.

  “That trash can?” Corey pointed.

  “Yeah, man. Look, I didn’t steal it.” Jamie Wilton’s face was a study in confusion. As if he couldn’t possibly see anything wrong with using someone else’s credit card.

  “We searched it. Couldn’t find anything else,” Officer Black said.

  “Okay. We’ll need to take the trash bag with us.”

  “Shibby grabbed it already. Left it by the car. I’ll warn you, it’s ripe.”

  Corey scanned the park. “You check out any of the other cans around here?”

  “No, we were told to sit tight until you got here.”

  Corey turned and counted two more trash bins within sight. “Let’s grab those two and if you see any other cans nearby, them too.”

  “You got it, Inspector,” Shibby said.

  Young jogged over, pulling gloves off his hands. “Hey. The Jeep’s ours. Locked up tight. Let’s get a tech over here.”

  Chapter Eight

  Corey left Young and the patrol cops at the beach park and drove back to Rathmoore to meet Mike Rhodes. Nikki’s roommate was waiting for her when she pulled the Toyota into the narrow driveway. He waved from the porch.

  She got out and walked over. Rhodes held the screen door open.

  “Hi, Inspector. Come on in.” Rhodes directed Corey to sit on a futon couch in the small living room. “You want a drink or something?”

  “No, thanks. I just have a few questions. Won’t take up much of your time.”

  He sat in a chair opposite her. “Can I ask what this is about? Is Nikki okay?”

  “We’re trying to retrace her steps last night, that’s all. Get a timeline for where she was.”

  “You mean like an alibi? Has she been arrested? Damn.”

  Corey let the assumption float in the air between them. She flipped open her pad and held her pen ready. “When is the last time you saw her?”

  “Yesterday. She didn’t have any classes, so she worked at her intern job all day. Got back after I did. Maybe four o’clock? I was getting ready. I had to work at five.”

  “Where do you work?”

  “I help out at the school. In the kitchen.”

  “So, you didn’t go out with Ellen last night?”

  “Nah.” He shook his head. “I wanted to. Looks like they had fun.”

  His words raised a tingle in Corey’s mind. “What do you mean?”

  “Just checking out the pictures everybody posted online last night.” Rhodes pulled his smartphone from his pocket. “Hey, I’m pretty sure Nikki posted a few pictures. Maybe that could help with her alibi. Here.” Rhodes swiped his finger across his phone screen and tapped a few times, bringing up a popular photo-sharing app. He scrolled through dozens of photos until he got to last night’s pictures. He handed Corey the phone.

  She moved her finger up the glass and scanned through the photos. There were several of Ellen with a group of people on the deck at the beach bar. Lots of smiles and beer, dark storm clouds in the background. Corey continued scrolling and stopped when a photo of Alicia filled the screen. The picture had been taken from the side of Alicia’s profile while she looked down at something in her lap. She wore cutoff jeans and a loose black tank top, her white bikini top visible underneath. Her long, blonde braid wrapped sideways over her shoulder, filling the image. The photo had been posted by username NikNik_MA at six fifty-two last night. Corey clicked on NikNik_MA’s username and was brought to her account page. Several more photos from last night appeared.

  Corey scrolled again and stopped at a picture of the two girls together. Nikki had her arm around Alicia’s shoulder, the two caught with wide smiles, as if laughing the moment the camera snapped. They threw peace signs at the camera, their slender hands folded in the universal V.

  Nikki had taken the photo, her arm stretched toward the camera as the girls posed for the selfie. She couldn’t tell where the pictures were taken, but Corey’s breath caught as she took in the picture of Nikki Soto as she’d been in life. Her tan skin with a sprinkle of ruddy freckles. Her dark hair, loose and wild. Her tilted eyes. She even wore minimal makeup like Corey did. Just pale lip gloss—the same shade she’d left on the pink paper—and mascara, as far as she could tell from the picture.

  Then Corey noticed the necklaces. When Nikki washed up this morning, she had been wearing two hemp necklaces—one with a white cowrie shell and the other with three green glass beads. In the selfie she had taken last night at seven thirteen in the evening, Nikki was wearing the green beads. Alicia was wearing the cowrie.

  Adrenalin burst through Corey’s body in a rush. She hadn’t been sure of Alicia’s status. Of course, they’d established the girls were together when the night started, but there’d been no real hint of them being together at the moment Nikki got into trouble. But if Alicia had been with her… Corey’s mind flew through the possible scenarios.

  What if the girls were taken together? What if Dr. Harwing’s assumption was right and Nikki died by accident and Alicia was with her when it happened? What if Alicia realized her captors were going to dump the body and thought of a way to send a message to those who found her? A vision of Alicia, frantic and scrambling to untie her necklace from her own neck filled Corey’s mind. She pictured Bronwyn’s daughter, panicked and crying as she said goodbye to her dead friend and tied a clue around her neck.

  Alicia was still alive. Everything in her rang with the truth of it. Corey got to her feet. “Hey, Mike, thank you for this. It’s really helpful. Is there a way you can send these pictures to me?” She handed him back his phone.

  “Sure. I can text them, or email?”

  Corey wrote her email address on the back of her business card. She had to get back to the station. Had to regroup. “Yeah. And maybe a screenshot, with the time stamp? Thanks again.”

  “I’ll do it right now.” Rhodes walked Corey out to her truck.

  As she was getting in, she remembered. “Hey, Mike? When you saw Nikki last night, did she have a cut on her ankle with a bandage on it? Here.” Corey reached down and touched the outside of her right ankle.

  He tilted his head to the side, thinking. “No. I’m pretty sure she didn’t. Actually, no. I am sure. She made a joke about wearing her old sandals last night, because she couldn’t use magic while hanging at the ‘dane bar and she didn’t want her new ones ruined in the storm. I looked at her feet. No bandages.”

  “That’s great. Thanks.”

  “No problem. Hey, let me know if you have more questions. If it helps get Nikki’s alibi straight or whatever. I’ll send my cell number with the pictures.”

  In the truck, Corey called Young.

  “Hey partner, I was just about to call you. We found Alicia’s wallet shoved down inside one of the other trash cans. ID and cash still inside. Techs are working on the Jeep, dusting for prints and magical trace. Doesn’t look like anything went down inside the Jeep. I’m thinking whoever took Nikki parked it here to throw us off the trail. I called Dr. Harwing, told her we had some new forensics to compare just in case. She’s still at the morgue.”

  “Okay. I’m on my way back to the station. You need a lift?”

  “No. I’m catching a ride with Black and Shibby. I’ll order some pizza. We have a shit load of paperwork to do tonight.”

  “Oh, food. Yes, please.”

  “How’d it go with the roommate?”

  “I think I found something.” Corey told Young about the pictures and the necklaces and her conversation with Mike Rhodes.

  “Whoa, Corey. That’s the first clue we have that Alicia could still be alive.”

  “Yeah. Now we have to find h
er.”

  Chapter Nine

  At nine o’clock at night, the detectives’ area of the station was deserted. There were no floating documents disappearing through vortices, no glowing orbs filled with reminders and appointment requests were sent through the overhead stream. Nothing to remind Corey that she was all but mundane, and not able to do even the smallest things with the remnant of her magical soul.

  She yawned as she rinsed the dregs from the coffee pot in the kitchen and put on a fresh one. Young was right… they had a ton of paperwork to take care of. She got back to her desk, pulled out her notes, tapped her keyboard, and waited for the monitor to ask for her log in credentials.

  Young arrived a little while later, a box of pizza in one hand and a drink carrier with two large drinks in the other. He placed them on the desk and handed Corey a large red cup with a straw sticking out.

  She took a sip and closed her eyes, letting the cold and the caffeine of her Diet Coke wash through her. “You moonlighting as a pizza delivery guy these days? Didn’t realize.” She smiled.

  “Yeah, yeah. I met the delivery guy at the door, smart ass.” He pulled a slice of pepperoni from the box and took a bite, moaning. “Man, I’m starving.”

  “Tell me about it. That lobster roll from this morning feels like ancient history.” Corey grabbed a slice and dug in, savoring the spicy flavors and the chewy dough.

  Young talked between bites. “It’s seriously a pain working a case that went down in ‘dane land, you know? Everything takes forever.”

  “Yep.” Corey never knew how to respond to complaints about working in the mundane world—the world she was forced to live in.

  Her partner caught her look. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean anything…”

  She waved him off. “Continue.”

  “I called the Coast Guard. With the storm last night, figured they might have done patrols. Made sure all the boats were off the water. If our girl was dumped at sea, it had to be somewhere off the south coast, east of Little Pea Island. Right? I mean, I don’t know how the tide moves, but the maps of the wind were like a hurricane, so she would have been pushed north and west.”