Still Waters

by David Banner

  “This is it,” she said, coming to a stop just above a small embankment. “This is the spot.”

  Ryan surveyed the surrounding area, his eyes following the flashlights bright white beam. There was nothing out of the ordinary. That is, until he saw it.

  “There,” he said. “Is that-”

  “Yeah.” Kit replied with a heavy heart. “I think so,”

  Chapter 25

  The bright light and surging energy of police sirens ripped through the peaceful night sky. Police officers buzzed around the small road, each one looking for and recording any evidence they could find, though there wasn’t much to catalogue when it came to the South Carolina marshlands. Things never seemed to survive too long in the dense woods.

  “Good work Devereux.” Chief Evans placed his palm on the detectives shoulder.

  “Yeah,” he replied. “I just want this thing wrapped up and behind us.”

  “Well you’ve done it,” he answered. “A body and the murderer. There ain’t much else we need. I’ll make sure everyone knows how hard you’ve worked on this.”

  “There’s no need in that,” he sighed. “Soon enough I’ll just be a memory around these parts.”

  Evans flared his nostrils, grabbed the detectives arm and pulled him aside. Officers and crime scene investigators buzzed around them, each one handling their own tasks, none paying attention to their chiefs obvious frustration.

  “I want you to stop saying that,” he snapped. “You’re not going anywhere Devereux, this is your home and these are your men. This place needs you.”

  Ryan stepped back, surprised by his superiors words. Ryan had spent the last ten years giving the man nothing but frustration and headaches. They’d butted heads more times than he could count, each time with Chief Evans threatening to fire the man.

  “Chief,” he began. “I’m sorry, but I’ve made my-”

  “What about your kid? Your ex-wife and that pretty thing you’re seeing?” He nodded to Kit Walker. “What about your partner? You’re just going to leave all of these people behind to go chasing some dream of being a cowboy?”

  Cowboy? Ryan let the word simmer in his head. It was one he’d never used, a description he would have never thought to apply to himself. He didn’t like the sound of it.

  “Why are you bringing this up now?”

  “I’ve got something to tell you,” Evans began.

  His words were soft and his body language reserved and careful. The detectives mind began racing a-mile-a-minute. Every bad scenario he could think of suddenly sprung to life. Carly, so young and sweet. Jillian, so good and beautiful. Were they hurt? Had something gone wrong?

  “Pauley,” he sighed. “He had another heart attack. In the hospital.”

  “Is he…”

  “He’s alive.” Evans answered. “But barely. They don’t know if he’ll wake. I’m sorry.”

  Three crime scene technicians emerged from the marsh’s edge, each one helping to hold the bright white gurney in place. Holly Waters had been identified and bagged, her weathered body left for the gators to find.

  Gus Greenfield was a murder and now they had the proof. But for the detective something didn’t feel quite right. Something, he thought, was missing.

  “The father,” he turned to Chief Evans. “He lied about seeing the girl. We need to bring him in.”

  “Tomorrow,” answered the chief. “We have the body, we know who pulled the trigger. That’s enough for tonight, Devereux. You need to go. Visit your uncle. Say your goodbyes. Get some damn sleep and think over the decision you’re trying to make here.”

  “We need him brought in.”

  “Tomorrow.” He repeated. “For now you have to go. And stay the hell away from that Ogdon boy. Got it?”

  The boy. It had been days since Ryan thought of the small child.

  “Fine,” he answered. “What about you? Are you still planning to-”

  “Not now,” he silenced the detective. “Go. Visit your uncle while you still can.”

  Chapter 26

  Thin and near-transparent skin hung loosely from the mans face and arms. Seeing his uncle this way pained the man so much. His heart sank deep into his chest as he watched the small machine breathe for him when he couldn’t.

  What had only days ago been an active cardiogram was now a nearly straight line with little in the way of peaks. He could have hoped or prayed, begged the Lord to let his uncle hold on just a while longer but he didn’t.

  The man was suffering and it was easy to see. Perhaps now he would finally get what he wanted, the detective thought. Maybe now he would finally leave this world. Ryan ran a hand through his hair, wondering if he would find himself in that situation one day.

  Would he grow old and weak only to beg the heavens to end his life? Only to lash out in ways he never thought he would in a sad and futile attempt to leave this world behind. A sharp pain coursed through the detectives head. No, he thought. He wouldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t become his uncle.

  “I’m sorry,” Michelle stepped into the room.

  A thin glittering pin crowned her head, holding her long silky hair back in a tight bun. Her eyes, bright and welcoming were seeped in worry and reservation. It would have been easy to play it off as concern for Pauley but Ryan knew better.

  This was about their relationship. This was about the fact that Ryan planned to leave her behind, to throw away everything they’d built for a future of uncertainty and loneliness. She glided past, quickly swapping his uncles bag of IV fluid for a fresh one. Ryan placed his hand on the small of her back.

  “He’s not going to make it. Is he?”

  “No,” she shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  For the first time in a long time the detective felt his eyes flush with tears. He leaned in and wrapped his arms around Michelle. She was warm and fragrant, her soft hands slowly caressed his arms as the tickle of her hair sent chills down his spine.

  Was he being a fool, he wondered? Was his desire to leave rooted in nothing more than fear and hesitation at the thought of getting hurt again?

  Pauley’s hand suddenly moved, jerking forward and causing Ryan to shudder in surprise. He studied the mans eyes, hoping he would spring to life, hoping he would open his eyes.

  “It’s just an involuntary reflex,” she assured him. “It happens a lot during this stage.”

  The stage she referred to, Ryan knew, was death. As he stood contemplating his life and the choices he was about to make his uncle lay before him likely moments away from the cold dark embrace of death’s hand.

  “How long?”

  “It’s hard to say,” she answered, keeping Ryan’s hands wrapped tightly around her waist. “An hour, a day… I don’t know.”

  He nodded a quiet response.

  Sleep came easy to the man as he lay across the narrow orange couch. His eyes slowly began to grow heavy as his pulse started to slow. Like a slow wave across the shore Ryan Devereux drifted into a still sleep.

  Like a vision she stepped through the large wooden doors. Her long white dress, wide and flowing at the bottom and tight and sculpted near the top carried her like an angel across the marble floors. Through her vail Ryan caught her eyes, deep blue with an intoxicating shimmer that called out from beneath the lace and silk.

  He smiled watching her move gracefully toward him. His heart beat faster than it ever had before as he lifted the vail and looked into her perfect gaze. This was it, the moment he’d been waiting for, the moment he could finally call her his own.

  “Do you Ryan, take this woman Jillian, to be your wife?”

  The soft glow of hospital lights poured into his eyes as they fluttered open to reveal a figure standing near the edge of his uncles bed. She was thin and well dressed with the kind of posture you only get from years of work.

  “Rose,” he sat up straight on the small uncomfortable couch.

  “Detective Devereux,” answered the senators wife. “I heard about your uncle.
I wanted to stop by and see if there was anything I could do.”

  “My daughter,” he answered. “Someone broke into-”

  “A mistake I assure you,” she said authoritatively. “I may not have my husbands title but I assure you, I know full-well what goes on in my family.”

  “It was a threat,” he said. “I could have-”

  “My daughter is… problematic.” She adjusted Pauley’s pillow, correcting the angle of his neck before tucking his sheet in just a little tighter. “It seems we each have our crosses to bear. But like the Lord, we must continue onward, knowing one day we will have all we need.”

  She was so sure of herself, so confident in her movements and words. It became instantly clear; if Rose Ogdon said there would be no further problems Ryan trusted her.

  “Your grandson,” he asked. “How is he?”

  “He should be going home in the morning.” A smile came over her face. “He’s strong.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “The video…” she continued. “The one my daughter uploaded. I wanted you to know I had it removed. She won’t be posting anything else. I assure you. You seem like a good man and I wouldn’t want to go up against that captain of yours.”

  “Evans?”

  “He’s quite stuck on you, it seems. He spoke to my husband in a way I’d never seen anyone else do before. If your future with the police force is anything like as bright as he made it out to be then it probably wouldn’t hurt to be on your good side.”

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to say-”

  “I also wanted to give my condolences,” she interrupted, not giving Ryan the chance to question or even consider the things his superior said about him. “The young reporter… I recognized her from the evening news. She seemed a bright thing, full of potential.”

  “I think so,” he answered. “But sometimes love and relationships can make people do crazy things.”

  “And her body… being dumped in that marsh... how unceremonious and end.”

  “The world can be a dark place sometimes ma’am. But as you said, we kind of just have to keep our faith in something greater.”

  “I went to school with that boys father,” she said. “Gus Greenfield Senior. He was a terrible man. One of my girlfriends at the time; he beat her, took her out to that same marsh and threatened to feed her to the gators right then and there just because he’d seen her talking to another guy.”

  “Really?” Ryan asked. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Oh yes,” she nodded. “I saw the bruises and I believe him when he said he could kill her and lave her there. No one knows that marsh better… no one.”

  Suddenly the idea of leaving Gus Senior alone until the next morning didn’t sit so well with the detective. He quickly leapt up and excused himself.

  Chapter 27

  “How far are you?” Kit asked frantically.

  “Five minutes,” Ryan answered into the phone. “Get an APB out on the truck.”

  “Working on it,” she replied. “I’ll be a few minutes behind you.”

  “Kit. You don’t have to-”

  “If you’re right then that makes this guy even more dangerous than we thought.” She answered. “You’re not doing it alone. I spoke with Evans, he’s working on a search warrant now.”

  Ryan’s car zipped quickly into Gus Greenfields long gravel driveway before skidding to a stop only a few hundred feet from the house. The two mens eyes met across the expansive plantation lawn. There was his sons truck, the one last seen in the surveillance video as it pulled away from Holly Waters small apartment complex.

  Gus tossed a large black duffel bag into the trucks bed.

  “Hands up,” Ryan said. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

  “I’m not going down,” he called back. “You’re not getting me too.”

  With that the large burly man turned on his heels and quickly headed through the door. Ryan’s heels dug into the soft earth as he sped after him, all the while keeping his weapon held high in the air. Wet morning air filled his lungs with each step, his skin already beginning to sweat from the dense southern humidity.

  For the second time in a week Ryan found himself standing the large ornate foyer of Gus Greenfields family home. The massive chandeliers, the marble tiled floor and the baroque inspired furniture all seemed darker somehow, more dangerous in a way.

  “Gus,” he called out. “I just want to ask you some questions, man. If you’re innocent then you’ll have no worries. Just come on out and talk to me.”

  His words were met only with an eerie silence, one that seemed to somehow follow him through the old mansion like a ghost. Ryan pressed his back against the cool wrought iron railing of the homes grand staircase as he quickly ducked past.

  The home, like so many other homes from the old south, was cavernous and maze-like in its structure. Secret doors and hidden hallways were likely around every corner. Ryan found himself at a disadvantage, one he hadn’t planned for.

  “All you have to do is talk,” he continued trying to draw out the man. “Just tell me about that night, about when your son brought Holly Waters to this house.”

  “That woman was going to ruin his life,” Gus answered.

  His voice, deep and throaty echoed down each corridor of the spacious home, each time as though it were coming from another direction. I just need to keep him talking, Ryan thought. If I can keep him talking I can find him and if I can find him I can-

  The shock of impact sent Ryan falling to his knees. His outstretched hands slammed hard against the living rooms aged hardwood floors. A second strike crashed through him, beginning at his back and resonating through his toes.

  Time passes strangely for a man in pain. The detective wasn’t sure how long he’d been under or what exactly happened during that time but he woke to find himself strapped to a chair, his wrists and feet bound by his own zipties.

  “You couldn’t leave well enough alone.” Gus said. “You couldn’t just let me leave. I wasn’t going to hurt anyone.”

  “Do you mean the way you hurt Holly Waters?” Ryan asked, his mind a groggy mess of clouds and fog.

  “He was my son,” the man insisted, his voice low and whispering like that of a snakes hiss. “What was I supposed to do? Let her ruin his life? You would have done the same thing.”

  “No,” he assured the crazed man. “I wouldn’t have. This is no simple white lie. This is murder.”

  Gus circled the detective, his feet dropping weighted and heavy against the floors with each new step. He lifted a small whiskey tumbler to his lips and took a slow sip before taking a seat on the second of two decorative accent chairs likely worth more than the detective’s entire boat.

  “You try…” he started, taking another sip of whiskey. “No man is perfect, no man who calls himself a man can be faithful to just one woman. It’s animalistic, it’s instinct and biology. We have to get out there. My son knew that, he felt it too.”

  “He was engaged,” answered the detective. “He had a fiancé yet he was still having an affair with Holly Waters.”

  “Holly Waters had nothing to offer my son other than what he’d already got from her. She came from nothing. A single mother with a shitty house and nothing to fall back on. Gus needed more. She couldn’t understand that.”

  Ryan took a long calming breath.

  He’d been like Holly once, and maybe in the eyes of people like Gus Greenfield and Rose Ogdon he still was. Poor, from a single parent home and troubled. Every words used to describe Holly Waters could also be used to describe him.

  He swallowed hard watching the large man rise from his small chair and step closer.

  “You helped your son kill her.”

  “No,” he grinned angrily. “I didn’t help my son kill anyone. I did it for him. I did it because it had to be done. Just like what I’m going to do to you.”

  Ryan swallowed, knowing better than to struggle against his restraints. It
wouldn’t do any good. Besides, it wasn’t as though he were alone in the world.

  “Step away.” Kit commanded.

  As Gus turned his head to look in the womans direction Ryan leapt forward. Still tied to the accent chair he spun, pinning the man to ground as his partner darter forward. The familiar and now pleasant sound of his ziptie restraints carried through the near empty house as Kit bound his hands.

  They had him, Ryan thought. But more importantly they had justice for an innocent girl.

  Chapter 28

  “She really does look like she’s having fun.” Jillian said, scrolling through her daughters social media feed.

  “I’m glad,” Ryan looked to her.

  He and his ex-wife sat in his parked car a few hundred feet away from his daughters all-so-important party cloaked in darkness. Carly took no shortcut in telling her parents where they belonged during her party.

  “Anywhere but on or visibly near the boat,” she’d reminded them a final time a few hours earlier.

  The dark and exotic scent of amber permeated Ryan’s car, rising from his wife’s skin and invading his nostrils like a siren on the sea. Every time she moved, every small muscle contraction or stroke of her hair sent another wave of the almost-magical scent billowing into the air.

  Lights flickered brightly along his houseboats various decks. Loud music, most of which the detective had never even heard screamed high into the sky as the thirty or so teenagers danced the night away.

  “Why do you do that?” He asked Jillian.

  “Do what?”

  “Make yourself smell so good. I could understand if you were headed out on a date or to an important lunch. But this is us, I’ve seen you at your best and your worst. Why put on such a sensual perfume just to come hang out in a car with me and eat hotdogs?”