A Distant Echo

by Tara Meyers

  Each of the visitors to the island arrives harboring different fears, but they are about to confront the ultimate fear of all, a struggle between life and death. In the midst of the turmoil, Chris begins to realize that perhaps death isn’t her greatest challenge after all.

  Echo Of Fear (sample chapter)

  Chapter One

  Chris

  Saturday, 2:00 PM

  Chris Echo lifted her face to the sun, allowing the warm, tropical breeze to engulf her. She hoped it was a cleansing breeze, because that’s why she was there. Standing in the bow of the boat, she looked out at the vast expanse of water around her and fought back a wave of fear. She was used to being in control, and this was way out of her comfort zone.

  This is a vacation, she chided herself. I’m supposed to relax. That’s the whole point, right?

  But no matter how many times Chris told herself that this was just a vacation, she knew the truth was much more complicated. She couldn’t help but feel that she was running away from the mess she had created back home, and to where she was running, she didn’t know. Was she looking for answers, for escape, or for a firmer definition of the person she’d become?

  Birds eagerly circled the slow moving boat, fighting over the handouts. A man, who appeared to be in his late fifties, stood several feet away from Chris. He was the one responsible for the annoying screeching from the scavengers. As she watched through dark sunglasses, he tossed out yet another piece of his sandwich, smiling as the birds dove for the food. The number of gulls dwindled the further they went from shore, and she imagined they would soon be gone altogether.

  The man eventually looked up to meet her gaze. His wrinkled, sunburnt face was full of pleasure, much like a child that’s discovered a new game. Chris couldn’t help but smile back. She knew immediately that she would like this man if they got a chance to know each other.

  Looking down at the worn brochure she clutched in her hands, Chris smiled again and felt a small stirring of anticipation. She practically had the pamphlet memorized, but she still unfolded the pages to look again at what promised to be a vacation in paradise. Off the corner of northwestern South America, it was a small resort on a privately owned island in the South Pacific. It boasted a master house and five neighboring cabins, all surrounded by a wide, white beach. Meals were served in the main house, and the only thing you had to worry about, it claimed, was dressing yourself and getting too much sun.

  It’s exactly what I need, Chris told herself for the hundredth time. Two weeks with absolutely nothing to do but relax.

  Watching the receding mainland, she tried to keep smiling. Her hand went automatically to her back pocket in search of her phone before she could stop herself. Her lifeline was safely packed away in her suitcase, snuggled up next to her laptop.

  In the year and a half that Chris had been working for the Seattle PD as a crime scene investigator, she had taken very little time off. In fact, during the six years prior to her promotion from detective to CSI, Chris could count on one hand the number of times she’d ever been out of town for more than a day or two that wasn’t business-related. And she couldn’t remember a time that she wasn’t available by phone. It was impossible to keep her out of the office if there was an active investigation underway.

  Unless you count my mandatory suspension, she thought, her grin fading.

  Three months before Mick, her supervisor, ‘advised’ her to take her vacation days, Chris Echo had killed a man.

  He was a suspect in a possible serial murder case. Chris, as usual, had pushed harder than she should have and made herself a target. The bloody scene in her secluded cabin took the state forensics team days to process while she was on mandatory paid leave. It was another two weeks before the prosecutor determined he wasn’t going to bring her up on charges for a wrongful death.

  Chris could have cared less about her own legal issues. While all of that was going on, her partner, Andrew, had been fighting for his life after taking a bullet for her. No matter how many times he tried to convince her it wasn’t her fault, she knew it was. Her reckless desire to solve the case on her own led to the confrontation he unknowingly walked into.

  Closing her eyes against the memory, Chris ignored the increasing tightness in her chest and focused on slowing her breathing. The anxiety attacks were getting worse. She’d been through counseling, as a teen, after a traumatic incident, so she had good coping skills … but everyone has their limits.

  Andrew pulled through and was expected to make a full recovery. Martin Eastabrooke remained very much dead because of a gunshot wound to the head: an act by Chris that was determined to be self-defense. But she knew the truth. A truth she’d decided in a split-second of time that she could live with.

  But it wasn’t quite that easy.

  One week after the state cleared her, Mick called Chris into the office and unceremoniously returned her badge and gun. She promptly threw herself back into her active caseload and tried not to look back.

  Two months later, with winter approaching and yet another year without putting in for vacation time, Mick put his foot down. While the threat was veiled, he made it clear that she needed to either find a way to get herself right in the head, or else he’d force her into counseling. According to him, he wasn’t the only team member to notice her long work hours, the bags under her eyes, and her declining physical fitness.

  I need this, Chris reminded herself, pushing away from the railing with resolution. I need to concentrate on myself for a while and make sure that I’m still in there somewhere, that I am more than just my career.

  At thirty-two, she’d never had a serious relationship that had even come close to marriage, and she only rarely dated. Not that she wasn’t attractive; she just didn’t make herself available.

  Chris undid her long, bronze hair from its holder, letting the wind swirl it around her face and shoulders. Her heart-shaped face and full lips at first gave the impression of a young, naïve girl. However, the bold, direct gaze of her green eyes revealed her inner strength. At 5’10” with an athletic build, Chris learned early on to use her size to her advantage. In her profession, she often had to deal with men who believed that women couldn’t handle the job. Chris very rarely backed down from a confrontation and was known for her temper and quick tongue.

  Playing the vacationer was not an easy role for her. But she decided that if she was doing this, she was going to do it right. Like everything else she tackled, Chris did so with vigor. She’d dug out her camera, purchased the proper attire, and had gone to the tanning booth a few times to avoid burning.

  As a result of the shooting incident, Chris had fallen into a slump. She refused to call it depression, but the results were the same. Her visits to the gym declined, the amount of wine she drank increased, and she avoided her normal stress relievers like running on the trails in the woods near her cabin.

  Deciding she could stand to trim off a few pounds before donning her new bikini, Chris signed up for an additional defense class. She also returned to her normal workout routine and put in an extra hour twice a week in a Zumba class, the new rage at her gym. She kept the hot pink bikini hung on her closet door as an incentive. It was now stashed away in her suitcase, right next to her service revolver and department ID.

  While packing the day before, Chris found that she just couldn’t leave the items behind. She might be taking the trip her supervisor had practically ordered, but she would always be an officer no matter where she went. The additional paperwork at the airport had almost caused her to miss her plane. It wouldn’t have even been possible if not for her previous travel for official business.

  Shaking her head to clear it of the work-related thoughts, Chris tried to shift into tourist mode. There were other people on the boat, so she turned around to observe the group she was sharing this adventure with.

  On the other side of the deck, a young teenager around fifteen lay sprawled across a lounge chair, an earpiece trailing back to some invisi
ble digital device hidden somewhere on him. Apparently, there was still some reception because the teen was feverishly texting someone. Even while Chris scrutinized his blind absorption, she longed for the comfort of her own phone and had to, once again, stop herself from reaching for it.

  Next to the teen stood a man that Chris could only assume was his father. He seemed rather lost. She prided herself in being able to read a person; after all, it was part of her job. He looked to be a middle-aged, white male with somewhat of a gut and was a little pale. Probably had a job that kept him behind a desk most of the time. He fit the typical serial killer profile.

  Damn it! What am I doing? Chris chastised herself. Can’t I leave it alone for one day?

  Determined to have a real vacation, she crossed the small deck and walked up to the ‘serial killer’ to introduce herself. “Hi!” She said cheerfully, “My name is Chris Echo. Are you headed for Carter’s resort, too?”

  Taking her hand in a much firmer grasp than Chris expected, the man pumped her arm enthusiastically.

  “Ken Swanson. This is my son, David.” He placed his hand on the boys shoulder.

  David removed his sunglasses and looked at his father’s hand as if it were a snake. Peering up at Chris, however, his demeanor quickly changed. He smiled broadly, revealing perfectly white teeth against his darker complexion. Chris guessed that his mom must be African American. Pulling the earphones out, he snapped his phone shut.

  “Yes,” Ken continued, not seeming to notice the slight from his son. “We’re staying at the resort for a week. It’s supposed to be a beautiful place. I could certainly use the sun!” he added good-naturedly, patting his pale face. “I spend all my time indoors, programming computers. We’re from Denver, Colorado.”

  “I live in Seattle, Washington.” Chris offered, but intentionally failed to explain her profession. She knew from experience that people viewed her differently when they found out she worked for the police. She didn’t want that on this trip.

  Chris noticed that David was still grinning at her with obvious admiration.

  “Hey, how you doin’?” He asked flippantly, trying his best to sound cool.

  Before the situation became too awkward, the gentleman who had been feeding the birds walked up. Brushing the crumbs from his pants, he then shook hands with everyone, smiling broadly.

  “Hope you don’t mind my interrupting,” he said brightly. “But I figure if we’re going to all be spending some time together on that little island, we ought to get to know one another. My name’s George Miley,” he continued, making a point to include David in his greeting. “This trip is sort of an overdue retirement celebration for me. I flew all the way down from Canada. A close friend of mine insists that this place is heaven on earth.” Chris and the others repeated their introductions with George.

  He’s just like your stereotypical sea captain, Chris thought, noting his salt and pepper hair, stubbly chin, and broad chest.

  As he laughed heartily at something Ken said, Chris’s earlier suspicions were confirmed. She liked this man immensely. His passion for life was apparent, and she found it refreshing just to be in his presence.

  Perhaps I will enjoy this trip as much as I hoped, Chris considered.

  With good company and a sun-soaked beach, what could go wrong?

  Want more?

  Follow this link to read Echo Of Fear

  About the Author

  Tara Meyers resides in the beautiful state of Washington. When she isn’t writing, she’s out hiking in the rugged Cascade Mountains, or enjoying life with her two amazing kids and several dogs! If you were entertained by this story, you might also like the novels she’s written under the pen name of Tara Ellis.

  Author page for Tara Meyers: Tara Meyers

  Author page for Tara Ellis: Tara Ellis