by Sarah Storme
The woman’s eyes glistened with enthusiasm as she placed a large grocery bag on the counter.
Heather pulled at the edge of the bag to peek inside. “What do you have today?”
“I have tamales and enchiladas, frozen, and some of both sauces.”
“Good. I’ll take the whole thing.”
Heather wrote down warming instructions as Lydia recited them, and then paid the woman. Bubbling with excitement, Lydia nearly tripped on the way out. Heather was excited, too; the diners would love the new treats.
With the food stashed in the freezer, and the ledger updated, Heather turned her attention to preparing tables for dinner.
Coop came in quietly, stopping at the bar to fill a glass with soda. He drank, then rinsed the glass and left it in the sink. “I’m taking the boat out.”
Heather straightened. “Why?”
He raised one shoulder. “I need to get out for a little while.”
The pit of her stomach suddenly burned. “Coop, don’t go out today.”
“I won’t stay long.”
“It’s not that. It’s just, well, clouds are building. We might get a storm.”
He glanced through the south windows. “It doesn’t look bad.”
“Coop—”
“Don’t worry about me, Deuce. I just want to take the boat out for a spin around the bay. I’ll be back in an hour, I promise.”
Apprehension plucked at the hairs on the back of her neck. Maybe it was Coop’s strange mood. It hadn’t changed since the morning when he’d moped around Jake’s kitchen. Why wouldn’t he just talk to her?
“Great,” she said. “So you’re going to play on your boat while I work my butt off to get ready for the dinner rush?”
Frowning at the floor, he started toward the front door,. “I won’t be long.”
Then he walked out without apology, as if he hadn’t heard her complaint. Or didn’t care.
Jake had been right. Coop changed into a different person when he wasn’t drinking. Maybe Jake was also right that she needed to give her father breathing room, but it wasn’t always easy to do. She couldn’t just stop watching out for him.
There wasn’t really much to do to ready the bar. She’d filled the salad bins and stocked liquor and beer. After she prepared condiment holders and swept the floor, she sat on the front porch. Skeet would be along in an hour.
It must be the weather making her nervous. Clouds ringed the horizon, cooling the air and filling it with electricity. Winter hid just around the corner, waiting to pounce.
Maybe Jake would stop in on his way home. The memory of the time they’d spent on the beach the night before left her giddy. She knew now that she loved him, and she yearned for his touch.
~~**~~**~~
Jake parked off the side of the road a block from the Johnsons’ and watched his rearview mirror. When the squad cars pulled up, he got out and shook hands with Sagin and two other deputies.
“You have no idea how glad I am we’ve got this one moving,” Jake said.
Sagin smiled. “I think I do.”
Jake glanced down the driveway. “How do you want to proceed?”
“Marsh and I will take the front,” Sagin said, “and you and Purdue watch the back. I can’t imagine they’ll run, but you never know.”
“Especially with these two,” Jake said. “I don’t think they have an entire brain between them.”
Sagin chuckled.
“Give us a two-minute head start.” Jake put on his hat, checked his holster, and walked quickly up the driveway, waving Purdue off to the left.
The day had turned cool and breezy. He could hear noise from the house before he reached the yard. It sounded like a reality show. Good. They were occupied and probably wouldn’t notice movement outside.
Watching the windows, Jake skirted the yard, ducking behind junk and bushes as much as possible. When he reached a spot where he could see the backdoor and still respond to a call for assistance from the front, he crouched and waited. A pair of flies buzzed his head, but he ignored them.
A minute later, Sagin drove up to the house, got out with Marsh behind him and the warrant in hand, and knocked on the door. “Sheriff’s office. Open up!”
Jake heard voices, but he couldn’t hear what was said. After a few exchanges, Sagin whistled. Jake hopped up and ran around to the front, thirty-eight drawn. When he saw the Johnson boys leaning on the squad car, he holstered his weapon and helped Marsh handcuff the men. Sagin read the two their rights with his weapon drawn. The precaution, however, wasn’t necessary. The men didn’t resist.
“Why the hell are y’all hasslin’ us?” Casey said. “We didn’t go near the bitch.”
Jake slapped the back of the man’s greasy head. “Watch your mouth.”
“Ow.”
Lou just glared.
Sagin locked the men in the back of his car with the windows down an inch or two. “Don’t want them to suffocate.”
“Yeah,” Jake said, “that would be a real loss.”
The deputy handed Jake the warrant. “This allows us to search the premises for any evidence related to Taylor’s death.” Then he motioned toward the front door. “After you.”
Jake walked in and switched off the blaring television. He stood in the living room and turned a slow circle. The place looked as bad on the inside as it did on the outside. “Christ.” He took a deep breath and started forward. “I’ll take the bedroom.”
Stepping over piles of trash, tattered porn, filthy clothes and moldy dishes, he made his way to the back of the house. The Johnsons slept on bare, soiled mattresses in rooms that reeked of stale beer, cigarettes, and dead fish. Trying to ignore the stench, he searched carefully for anything that tied them to Tran’s death, in spite of what the warrant said.
The only things he found, however, were a couple of bongs and roach clips, and quite a few baggies with seeds. The Johnsons were heavy marijuana smokers, but he found no signs of other drugs.
“Anything?” Sagin asked.
“Not really. Pot and paraphernalia. Nothing else.”
“If it’s in plain sight, let’s bag it in case we need a little extra to hold them on while we’re building the case.”
“Sounds good.” Jake took the evidence bags and a marker from Sagin and returned to the bedrooms. As soon as he was done, he carried the evidence outside.
Deputy Marsh tossed out four bundles of burlap sacks from a storage building. One bundle matched the sack found at Coop’s, but the bundle was intact. Still, it was a start.
By the time they finished the search, the brothers had been in the back of the squad car for over an hour. They were sweaty and angry, and swore through the cracks in the windows. Ignoring their complaints, Sagin loaded the evidence in the trunk. After he closed it, he leaned back and folded his arms.
Jake stood facing him. “Did you get a warrant for their boat?”
“I’m still working on that one.”
“Let me know when you do. They probably have burlap sacks stashed on board.” He decided not to tell Sagin that he knew for a fact that there were sacks on the boat matching the one found at Coop’s; he wasn’t ready to be quite that open with someone he didn’t know well.
“You want to run in with us to book them?”
“If you don’t mind the paperwork, I’ve got a few things to do.”
Sagin glanced at his watch. “No, I guess not. Anything else you need?”
Jake thought for a moment. “What do you know about Tanner Radisson?”
“Your local rich kid?”
“Yeah.”
“Not much. When I moved out here from LA, his old man had just died and left him a bundle. The kid was a little wild, but that was a dozen years ago. He’s settled down since then.”
Jake nodded.
“Why? Is he up to something?”
“Probably not,” Jake said, “I’m just trying to sort out a few things.”
“Well,” Sagin said, straigh
tening, “let me know if you want help with anything. It’s nice to get out of the office once in a while.”
“Thanks.”
They all shook hands again, and then Jake started down the driveway. He waved as the deputies drove past.
At least the Johnsons were out of his hair for now. And to make things even better, the workday was nearly over.
~~**~~**~~
Heather looked up at the clock for the twentieth time. Five ten. Coop had been gone for two hours.
She leaned into the kitchen. “Skeet, I’m going out for a minute. There are only two people here, and they’re eating. Can you keep an eye on them?”
The man nodded.
She hurried down the front steps, and broke into a run as soon as she hit the parking lot. It didn’t take long to reach the dock.
Coop’s boat was gone. Heather stood at the launch and studied the bay, shielding her eyes with her hands. Haze shrouded the far shore but calm water reflected the sky perfectly. She couldn’t see a single boat anywhere.
The burn in her gut blossomed into full-fledged fear. Something had happened to her father. She knew it, even though she couldn’t explain why. Holding her stomach, she looked around.
One car with an empty boat trailer sat in the parking lot, and there was no one on the road or at the dock.
She turned and ran again, this time bypassing the bar and slowing only when she reached Jake’s driveway. His car was parked near the steps. A little dizzy with relief and huffing to catch her breath, she hurried inside.
Jake hadn’t even taken off his gun yet. He smiled, and then frowned when he saw her panting. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Coop,” she said, gasping. “He went out…two hours ago…said he’d be back…in an hour.”
Jake led her to a kitchen chair. As she worked on catching her breath, he filled a glass with water and gave it to her. Heather sipped.
“Tell me again,” Jake said, sitting beside her. “Coop’s an hour late getting home and you’re worried?”
She nodded. “He took his boat out at three. Something happened, I know it did. You saw him this morning. He was still acting weird when he went out. He should have been back at four. It’s five.”
Jake touched her cheek gently. “Don’t worry, I’m sure Coop’s fine.”
She shook her head. “I know something’s wrong.”
Jake studied her face for several long moments. Then he rose and pulled out his phone. “I’ll look for him.”
Heather nodded, blinking back tears.
“Tucker? It’s Jake…Yeah, I need your help again. Feel like a boat ride?…Good. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Jake pulled Heather to her feet and held her. She stood in his sturdy, comforting arms as her terror subsided.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I’ll find him. I promise.”
She nodded against his chest.
He kissed the top of her head before he left.
Heather followed him out, locking the door behind her and pocketing the spare key. She watched him speed away in his car as she walked slowly back to the bar. Panic still burned her stomach, but the burn was lessened by Jake’s promise to find her father.
~~**~~**~~
“You think something really happened to him?” Tucker fired up the engine and eased the boat from the dock.
“I don’t know,” Jake said, “I hope not.”
In truth, he feared something had happened to Coop. He’d learned years ago never to discount feelings like the one Heather had about her father. It was those sensations—premonitions or whatever—that had saved Jake more than once when he was on patrol.
“His rig’s too small to get very far out of the bay without running into trouble,” Tucker said. “Maybe we should start here and work our way around the perimeter.”
Jake nodded. He draped his arms over the windshield, and used the binoculars to search the water’s surface as they moved north from Tucker’s dock.
Just as they reached the northernmost point, he spotted something solid near the shore. “Oh, shit,” Jake muttered. He pointed. “Over there.”
Tucker cut back on the engine as they reached the boat. Its front half was lodged in the thick salt grass of the shallow marsh that ringed the bay. Jake plainly saw the name, Deuce II.
He leaned over the side and pulled the smaller boat to him. The bottom sported several large slices, causing the boat to fill with water. The slices couldn’t possibly be accidents.
He cupped his hands and yelled, “Coop! Cooper! Can you hear me?”
Tucker killed the engine and they listened. As Jake searched the shore with the binoculars, Tucker repeated the call.
They got no response.
“We better notify the Coast Guard,” Jake said.
“Yeah.” Tucker had already dialed the number.
While they waited, Jake continued to search the marsh grass and the water, both scorched red-orange by the setting sun. It wouldn’t be long before they’d be searching in the dark.
~~**~~**~~
By seven, panic had disintegrated into despair. Heather closed the bar and sent Skeet home, then she trotted down to the empty dock.
A congregation of lights bobbed at the north end of the bay. Shaking fiercely, she wrapped her arms around one of the dock posts and watched.
Finally, one of the boats broke from the group and moved across the top of the bay. It had to be Tucker’s boat, returning to his dock. She watched the lights on the other boats for a long time, and then turned away, crying as she stumbled along the edge of the road toward the bar. Jake pulled up behind her, parked, and jumped out.
“Heather,” he said.
She turned, unable to see him clearly through the tears. “Did you...find him?”
“No.” He grabbed her arms. “We found his boat. The Coast Guard is looking for him.”
“But you promised you’d find him.” Her knees collapsed.
Jake picked her up and carried her to the car. He placed her in the passenger’s seat and drove to his house.
She couldn’t stand. Her body refused to respond—refused to do anything but cry. All she could think about was her father lost in the bay, out there all alone.
Jake carried her in and placed her on the sofa. He held her. After a while, she regained a small degree of control.
“What…happened?”
Jake left her, and then returned in a moment with a pillow and blanket, and knelt beside her.
“We found his boat with holes in the bottom, but there’s no sign of Coop.”
“Holes? Like gunshots?”
“More like slits made with a knife. I want you to stay right here and rest. I’m going back out to look.”
“I want to go, too,” she said, trying to push off the blanket.
Jake held her down with one arm. “No. Heather, stay here. If he manages to get back, he’ll know where to find you. Then you can take care of him and let us know.”
As much as she hated to admit it, that made sense.
Jake leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back in a little while to check on you.”
She nodded.
He traded his outer shirt for a light jacket and left, glancing back at her once before pulling the door shut.
Heather turned onto her side, balled the pillow under her head, closed her eyes, and let tears fall unchecked. Her poor father must be out there somewhere, in God-knows-what condition. If someone put holes in the bottom of his boat, they probably meant to hurt him. Or kill him. Coop could be at the bottom of the bay. He could be gone forever. The possibility physically hurt.
No, he couldn’t be dead. She’d know, wouldn’t she? They’d been close all her life. They must have some kind of connection that would tell her if he was gone.
Heather opened her eyes.
Coop was out there. That much she knew for sure. She couldn’t sit on the sofa and wait for him.
She threw the blanket aside. Her father needed
her.
“Hang on, Coop.” Grabbing her keys from the table, she ran out to her car.
~~**~~**~~
The Coast Guard had already searched three-quarters of the bay by the time Jake got back to the dock. The boat captain, Lieutenant Jasper, steered while a young female officer swept the spotlight back and forth.
“Any luck?” Jake asked, after hopping from the dock to the boat.
“No, nothing,” Jasper said.
They rejoined the search grid.
Shortly before nine, it drizzled for a while, just long enough to get everything and everyone wet. Jake flipped the collar of his jacket up and continued to shine his flashlight off the side of the boat.
A little after ten, they reached the mouth of the bay and the four boats converged into a loose circle, rising and falling in the stacking waves.
“If he’s in the Gulf, we won’t find him in the dark with this wind,” Jasper said, explaining the radio conversation he was listening to through an earplug. “They’re calling off the boat search until dawn. Then we’ll sweep along the barrier islands. Water’s getting too rough. If the wind lets up, we’ll run more choppers up and down the coast tonight.”
Jake nodded, heartsick at the news. How was he going to tell Heather he hadn’t found her father?
Jasper left Jake at the Port Boyer dock, and then sped away after the rest of the boats toward Port O’Donald. Jake walked quickly down the wet, dark street to his house and found the door unlocked.
“Heather?” He stopped at the sofa. Unsure he was seeing right, he reached back and flipped on the light.
The sofa was empty.
“Heather.” He hurried to the bathroom, and then checked the rest of the house. She wasn’t there.
He trotted to Coop’s Place where the inside was dark, and both the front and back doors were locked. Thinking back to where he’d found Heather earlier, he ran down the street to the dock.
But she wasn’t there, either.
“Dammit, Heather, where are you?” Jake leaned forward with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.
Then he heard something over the sound of churning Gulf waves—a little buzz, or a hum. He turned his head to listen and walked out to the edge of the longest pier.
As the noise grew, he recognized it as a boat engine. Not just any engine, but the fastest and smoothest engine in Port Boyer. What the hell was Tucker doing back out in the water alone?