by Gregg Stutts
Whoever executed the cop would answer for it. But first he had to get himself, and Willy, away from the marina. That’s when he heard someone yell, “Hey, what are you…”
Max froze. Somehow, they’d found him. But before he could even duck beneath the water, he heard “thwoop…thwoop…thwoop” again.
He clung to a piling and didn’t move. Then he felt the dock shaking and footsteps coming toward him. They were moving fast, but stopped suddenly right above him. One of them said, “Yeah, it’s done.” Silence for a moment. “Yeah, it’ll look like the councilman went nuts, whacked four cops, then himself.” The man ended the call, and then laughed. “I love it when a plan comes together.”
Max remained still as the men continued down the dock toward the parking lot. A minute later, the sounds of car doors slamming and an engine starting pierced the silence, followed by the squeal of tires against the pavement. The engine noise faded into the distance, but still he clung to the piling, shivering and praying.
He waited several minutes. Then when it felt safe, he pushed off the piling and continued paddling in the direction of the park. He didn’t expect to find Willy there, but he had to put distance between himself and the marina. He was certain that anyone left at the marina, besides him, was dead. But surely once the dispatcher could no longer reach the four officers, more would follow.
Chapter 28
Willy was ten minutes from home, but knew he was in trouble. He’d been feeling it at the park, but tried to ignore it. Now he was becoming more desperate. He had to pee. And on this road at this hour, there were no businesses open. If he didn’t hit a red light, he might just make it home.
He didn’t usually exceed the posted speed limit by more than five miles per hour, but a full bladder at 1:00 a.m. on a country road will make an old man do crazy things. As he passed the 50 MPH SPEED LIMIT sign, he glanced at the speedometer and saw he was doing 64 mph.
That was also the exact moment the squad car rounded the turn ahead of him coming from the other direction. He panicked for a moment and almost peed his pants, but breathed a sigh of relief when the cop passed him. The relief was only temporary though. A moment later, he saw the blue lights come on as the cop made a U-turn.
He had a decision to make. With limited options, he knew what he had to do. And only had a few seconds to make it happen. He hit the brakes and pulled to the side of the road. He’d have to act fast.
Less than a minute later, the police car pulled up behind his truck on the shoulder of the road. The cop got out and cautiously approached the truck. Willy watched him from the edge of the woods. “Good evening, officer. Or should I say, good morning?”
Willy startled him. The cop immediately pulled his gun. With one hand he shined a light in Willy’s face and with the other aimed his gun at him.
“What are you doing in there?” the cop yelled. “Come out here where I can see you and get your hands over your head.”
“Oh, yes, sir,” Willy said, squinting at the bright light. “You’ll have to give me a moment.”
“Now, sir! Come out of the woods and get on the ground!” The cop was clearly agitated and took several steps towards him.
“Yes, sir, I would sure like to do that, but it’s gonna be just a little longer.”
“I’m not going to ask again!” the cop yelled.
“Sir, I would love nothing more than to do what you’ve asked, but at eighty-three years old, well, it’s not as easy as when I was your age.”
The cop lowered the beam of light slightly and said, “Oh, I see. Well, get it done and get out here.”
“Yes, sir…just a few more seconds…okeydokey...there we go.” Willy zipped up and stepped out of the woods.
“Sir, why are you out here in the middle of the night peeing in the woods?”
“Because you pulled me over and I didn’t want to wet my pants,” Willy said.
“Sir, have you been drinking?”
Willy laughed. “No, but I’ll be honest with you, a glass of wine sounds like a good idea right about now.”
“Where are you headed, sir?”
“Actually, I’m going to my friend’s house. He and his wife just had a baby and my wife is helping out tonight.” It wasn’t a total lie. He really was planning to go to Max’s house, just not right away.
“You’re going to visit him at midnight?” The cop took a step toward Willy.
“Yes, well, I guess it is kind of late, but as I said, my wife is helping out tonight.”
“Uh huh.” Willy could see the cop’s struggle to believe or not believe him.
Just don’t ask me where I’m coming from.
“Who’s your friend?” the cop asked.
“Max Henry. He and his wife, Michelle, had a little baby girl this summer. She’s so beautiful. Oh, and she’s named after my wife, Rose. Well, not her first name, but her middle name. Her full name is Carrie Rose Henry. Pretty, isn’t it?” Willy hoped playing the part of the sweet old man might get him off.
“Max Henry, the football coach?”
“Yes, sir. Do you know him?”
Willy could see the cop’s face relax slightly and his finger come off the trigger. “I played for Coach Henry a while back.” The cop continued to study him. “Well, okay, you tell coach that Johnny Simmons said ‘Congratulations’.” He hesitated a moment, then asked, “Are you sure you haven’t been drinking?”
“Oh, no sir. I’d never drink and drive.”
“Well, now that you’ve, ah, relieved yourself, I want you to slow down. You hear me?”
“Oh, yes, sir. Thank you, officer.”
Willy climbed into his truck as the cop walked back to his car. He watched him open the door and start to get in, then hesitate. He yelled, “Where’d you say you were coming from at this late hour?”
It was the question he was dreading. The one for which he had no answer. The cop slammed the door shut and walked back toward Willy. Just steps from the bumper of his truck, he stopped and listened as a call came in over his radio. “10-4,” he replied, then hurried back to his car.
Willy could make out just one word on the call, “marina.”
Chapter 29
Michelle finished nursing Carrie, changed her diaper and laid her back in her basinet. It was 12:30 a.m. and Max wasn’t home. She checked her phone, but he hadn’t texted or called. Before getting back in bed, she went to the living room to check on Rose who’d fallen asleep on the couch.
“I’m awake, dear,” Rose said.
“I’m sorry, Rose. Did the baby wake you?”
Rose sat up. “No, I’ve been dozing off and on. Don’t you worry about me.”
“I don’t guess you’ve heard anything from Willy,” Michelle said.
“No, not yet. I’m assuming that means you haven’t heard from Max,” Rose said.
“No, but it’s only one o’clock. They said they’d call if they were going to be later than two,” Michelle said.
“Let’s not worry, dear. Those boys know how to take care of themselves.”
They sat quietly for several minutes. Michelle could hear Carrie stirring in the other room and hoped she’d fall back to sleep.
“I’ve been having dreams,” Michelle said.
“Of?” Rose asked.
“Me…and Chris.”
“Oh. Bad dreams, I guess?”
“Yeah, it’s not like they’re romantic dreams or anything, but he’s in them. And sometimes in the dream, I’m holding Carrie and looking at her face and then she turns into Chris.”
Rose put her arm around Michelle and hugged her tight. She wanted Rose to say everything would be okay, but she didn’t say anything.
“You don’t think my dream means she belongs to Chris, do you?” Michelle said.
“I think you’re probably worrying about nothing,” Rose said, but in a tone that felt more wishful than reassuring.
“At her two-month check-up, I asked the doctor to do a paternity test.”
“I s
ee,” Rose said. “Did Max ask you to do that?”
Michelle got up and walked to the window. She turned the outside light on and saw a mist covering the backyard. “Max doesn’t know. I took a few strands of hair from his brush.”
“Oh, so they can do that with just a hair? I didn’t know,” Rose said.
“You’d be surprised at what they can do.”
Rose joined Michelle at the window. “I thought Max didn’t really want to know.”
“At first, he said he didn’t care whose baby it was, that even if Carrie belonged to Chris, it didn’t matter to him…”
“But?”
“I don’t know, Rose. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but it feels like he’s been pulling away. Maybe it’s just my hormones.” This time it was Michelle who sounded more wishful than confident.
“I think the two of you have been through a lot,” Rose said. “And I think it’s very hard having a newborn in the house.”
“Do you think I should tell him about the test or wait until I get the results?”
“What do you think, dear?”
She glanced outside then dropped her gaze to the floor. “I think I never should have cheated on my husband.”
Chapter 30
Max continued paddling through the water underneath the dock, trying to make as little noise as possible. He had no way of knowing who was still around.
In the past sixty minutes, he'd seen a city councilman with a bullet hole in his head, barely escaped detection by the police, found himself face-to-face with a dead cop, and witnessed the killing of three other officers. Although technically he hadn't witnessed it since he hadn't actually seen their faces. He’d only heard voices.
The shivering was now uncontrollable. He had to get out of the water. He listened carefully but heard no one, then waded out of the water and walked up the bank to the marina parking lot. His wet clothes made him feel heavy and sluggish. If it came to a foot race, he’d be in trouble. It was difficult to tell because the fog was so thick, but there was no sign of Willy’s truck in the park.
There didn’t appear to be anyone else at the marina. At least not anyone that was alive. If anyone else was around, he would have been arrested or shot already. He reached in his pocket for his phone, before remembering it was full of lake water. He’d heard you could put a phone in a bag of rice and it would work again. He didn’t know if that was a myth or if it really worked.
The longer he stood in the middle of the parking lot, the more vulnerable he felt. He needed to get out of sight and away from the marina. Eventually, he’d have to get home or to Willy’s house, but right now, just becoming less visible was his only priority. He made his way into the woods between the marina and the park to get out of sight and formulate a plan.
He had no car. Walking to Willy’s house would take at least three hours. Hitchhiking, even if a car did come by, was out of the question. Being seen by anyone was too risky. Then it hit him. He needed a boat. Any small boat with a motor would do. It was a seven-mile walk to get home. It was roughly the same distance to Willy’s house, but it was less than a mile by boat to the fishing spot near Willy’s house. And from there just a short hike up the hill. If he took it slow and the fog didn’t get worse, there might be just enough moonlight by which to navigate.
Even a rowboat would be better than nothing, but whatever he did, he had to do it fast. Surely, the police had a procedure for checking on officers who were suddenly out of contact with the dispatcher, especially if they were responding to shots fired.
He made his way back to the end of the dock, furthest from The Integrity. It’s where he’d seen a number of fishing boats. Many of them were rentals. He checked each one, but they were all locked with chains securing them to the dock. Next, he tried the jet skis. It had been years since he’d been on one, but felt sure it was something that would come right back to him, like riding a bicycle.
The first one was chained to the dock and didn’t have a key in it anyway. The second one had a key in the ignition, but was chained and padlocked. But not the third one. It was secured by a single rope and had a key in the ignition.
He was starting to untie the rope, when he heard a car enter the parking lot. It was a police car, but without flashing lights or a siren. A minute earlier and they would have found him. He went back to work on the rope. His hands were shaking so badly, it was hard to make any progress, plus he could barely see what he was doing in the dark. Clouds and fog obscured the moon, but maybe that was now to his advantage. If the moon broke through the clouds, they’d easily spot him.
He was still fumbling with the rope when a second police car came through the gate. Neither car had used their sirens. They didn’t want to alert anyone they were coming. Anyone…
…like him.
Chapter 31
Willy parked in his driveway, shut the motor off and replayed the events of the last ninety minutes. Max found Dan shot in the head. They almost made it back to the truck, but Max had to go back for his phone. The police arrived, which prevented him from getting back to the truck.
He tried to put himself in Max’s shoes. I find the phone. Hurry to the deck. Police are on the dock coming toward me. What would I do?
He felt sure Max would have no choice other than to go into the lake. It was really the only option. And the moment he hit the water, it would kill his phone. But then what? Where would he go?
It would make sense to get away from the marina. If he followed the shoreline to the east far enough, it would lead to the fishing spot where they’d first met, but it would get steep in places and make travel, especially at night, extremely difficult.
Or maybe he would head back to the park. He might go there hoping to find a place to hide or maybe a payphone. He wasn’t even sure they still had a payphone at the park, or anywhere for that matter, but Max might not know that. Willy threw his truck in reverse and backed out of the driveway. If Max thought to go to the park, then he might just find him there.
Ten minutes later, he passed the marina and saw three police cars in the parking lot. There’d only been one police car and a black SUV when he’d left. He continued past the marina and made a left into the park. He slowed down at the picnic area, hoping to see Max sitting there waiting for him. Not surprisingly, he wasn’t there.
He parked in a spot that was away from any streetlights and gave him a view of the marina. There were definitely three police cars and two men with flashlights walking down the dock toward Dan Jenkins’ boat. Two others were searching behind the marina office. Other than that, he couldn’t see much else. The fog was getting thicker.
Chapter 32
The faster Max tried to untie the rope, the more his fingers wouldn’t cooperate. But he had only seconds left to get the jet ski untied. Otherwise he’d have to move to plan B, which he hadn’t yet formulated. Two cops with flashlights were on the dock less than fifty yards from him. At least they were moving away from him toward Dan’s boat. He couldn’t see the other cops, but hoped they weren’t headed his way.
With a simple pocketknife, he could just cut the rope, but he’d never been the knife-carrying type. He was more likely to have an index card and a pen on him to make notes regarding a new football play he’d thought of. But notecards weren’t as helpful as knives in moments like these. It was the older generation that always seemed to have a pocketknife on them. Guys like Willy.
The two cops came to the far end of the dock. Their flashlights were pointed straight down at the dock. Surely, they’d found their three dead fellow officers. They yelled for the other two to join them. Max watched them take the stairs two at a time down from the parking lot onto the dock and sprint in the direction of Dan’s boat.
He might only have seconds now. And then he got it. The knot was untied. He tossed the rope aside, straddled the jet ski and used his left foot to push away from the dock. He willed himself to stop shaking without success. He was ten feet from the dock slowly bobbing on the water. He kept an
eye on the four beams of light at the other end of the dock.
It was now or never. He turned the key to start the jet ski. The motor sputtered for a moment, but didn’t start. He tried again. This time it sputtered and coughed louder, but still wouldn’t turn over. Immediately after his second attempt, four flashlights turned in his direction. He tried to start the motor several more times, but with the same result. For all he knew, the gas tank was empty. He turned the key one last time; the motor sputtered again, trying to come to life.