He stared at his deputy, a man he’d known all his life and that had been a loyal friend of his father’s. Carl was always unruffled, a result, he claimed, of his frequent deep-sea fishing trips. He could trust Carl to help him get to the bottom of Jet’s blackmailing claim. “Do you know of any kind of consulting work Dad did in the last five years before he died?”
Carl ran a large bony hand through a shock of white hair. “No. Can’t say I do. Why do you ask?”
Tillman tapped the IRS forms by the computer. “Because he claimed a little over fifty thousand dollars’ income for consulting work.”
Carl whistled. “Never mentioned nothing like that to me.”
“Get me the financial papers so I can review expenditures from this office. Maybe the county set up some special compensation for him in lieu of an official pay raise.”
Carl shook his head. “Nope. Even that would require a special vote by the city council. Everything’s an open book in that regard.”
Tillman’s heart sank. But he would check into every possibility. He owed Dad that much. “I want to review those papers.”
“Will do.” Carl’s homely face creased. “There’s got to be an explanation. Your dad was one of the finest, most honest men I’ve ever met.”
“That’s what I thought. Look, I’d appreciate it if you kept this information between us.”
“Of course. I’m sure it’s nothing. I’d forget about it if I were you.”
“I have to know.” Tillman shoved the offensive papers aside. “Anything interesting turn up on the background interviews for Pellerin?”
“Nothing exciting. He dropped out of high school in the tenth grade. Teachers described him as average, except in biology, where he excelled, even winning several science fair awards for insect projects.”
Tillman recalled the mountings on Pellerin’s wall. “Wonder why he didn’t finish high school. Any reason given?”
“They suspect it was because he couldn’t get along with others. He was bullied during middle school. By high school, his peers pretty much ignored him. He sat in the back of the room, never talking or participating in the usual teenage activities like football and dating.”
“What about after he left school? Did he get along with coworkers?”
“No, it was pretty much like school. He’s worked a series of jobs. Bosses and coworkers described him as a quick learner and a hard worker, but had trouble taking criticism or being told what to do, especially from women.”
Tillman nodded. “He’s smart but in a crafty way. My impression is that everything has to be on his own terms, preferably with him having control. What about the tail we put on Pellerin?”
“Langham followed him last night. He wandered around some of the county back roads for almost an hour, not stopping anywhere before returning home.”
“Let’s keep a record of what streets he travels on, in case it becomes important later. Did he go past Murrell’s Point?”
“Returning to the scene of the crime?” Carl asked. “No. Actually, Langham gave me a summary of his activity.” He pulled out a paper from his notepad and handed it to Tillman.
Tillman read it over until he saw Pendarvis Road. Where Shelly lived. Son of a bitch, had he been searching for a new victim? The thought of Shelly so close to danger made his skin crawl. And he couldn’t erase the images of Pellerin’s morbid collection of dead insects. Maybe it wasn’t too much of a leap to think Pellerin’s obsession with the dead, coupled with his control issues and contempt for women, made him a valid suspect.
* * *
Lily swiped her perfect lips with cotton-candy-pink lip gloss.
“Why bother with makeup when we’re going to train for the games?” Jet asked. “We’re out to build muscle, not catch a guy.”
“I’m only exercising my vocal cords for the singing competition, not trying to outswim the other mermaids like you.”
For once, Shelly wasn’t envious of their annual pilgrimage to the mermaids’ Poseidon Games without her. As a hybrid, she wasn’t permitted to enter the full-blooded mer-kingdom located in the remote South Pacific. No way could she compete with the others, but she’d love to visit the undersea mermaid castles, perhaps meet some of her mother’s kin. But this year, the danger kept Shelly from the usual wistful longing as the games drew near.
“Be careful.” Shelly bit her lip. She couldn’t help worrying. Each time she thought she had her fear under control, it crept up and refused to be silenced.
“We’re fine together.” Jet took a swig from her water bottle. “Join us—it’ll help you get over this fear.”
“Not this time. I’ll start supper and do some cleaning while you’re gone.”
“Pussy,” Jet said.
“Leave her alone, Jet. She’ll swim again when she’s ready.”
Shelly shot Lily a grateful look. Once Tillman nailed the guy, she could let the fear go.
Tillman. She hadn’t heard from him since the phone call yesterday. He’s busy. He’s working a homicide. He’ll call you later.
Maybe when her cousins left she’d drink a glass of wine and get up the nerve to call him. She refused to believe the relationship was sunk just as it started. She’d been upset the other night when he didn’t immediately believe she knew nothing about his father. She should have realized he was in shock over the news. And to top it off, she’d had to call him to pick up his drunk mother. Poor guy was probably embarrassed. She would explain to Tillman that he shouldn’t be. Every family had its problems and she admired him for his loyalty and sense of duty.
“You never did tell us—” Lily laid the lip gloss on the mahogany foyer table. “Did your sheriff say what’s going on with the murder investigation?”
“Only that they had some leads and he would have the killer soon.”
Jet’s face fell. “You couldn’t get anything more specific?”
“If you hadn’t showed your butt that night I would have had an opportunity.”
A tiny wrinkle appeared on Lily’s brow. “Dating a cop could backfire.”
Jet grabbed Lily’s arm and they headed outside.
“Dump him,” Jet advised, banging the door shut behind her.
Shelly gazed at the shut door. Dump him? As if Jet had a right to give advice. She and Perry were physically separated, but Jet had never gotten over the black-hearted pirate, no matter how much she denied it.
Neither had the right to forbid anything. Shelly’s anger rose, quick and hot, fed up with Jet’s bossiness. She ran to the door, opened it and spied the pale outline of her cousins in the darkness as they were entering the shed hiding their portal.
“Don’t tell me who to dump. You’re the one who sulks around here waiting for someone who’s never coming back.”
Jet stiffened and turned. Lily held a hand to her mouth while Jet’s fists curled at her sides.
Oh, no. What had she done? They never mentioned Perry in front of Jet. The first six months Jet had returned, alone, from her last shipwreck expedition had been a dark time. Jet had hardly eaten, never swam, and swung from spending days in bed to going on exercise splurges where she would run for miles or lift weights for hours.
Jet wouldn’t say what happened until a year later. After too many tequilas late one night, she told them Perry had betrayed her in the worst possible way. Try as they might, Jet refused to ever speak his name or give more details.
And now Shelly had dredged it all up again.
She ran toward Jet, contrite. “I’m sorry. I had no right to bring him up.”
“Do I ever bring up that ex-boyfriend of yours from college who broke your heart?”
Lily came between them. “C’mon, y’all.” Her voice was light and melodic. “One human male is the same as the next. Do like I do, have your fun and then call it quits.”
Jet and Shelly stared wordlessly at each other. Shelly was astonished to discover the two of them were more alike than Lily. Lily had never fallen in love and gotten hurt. Jet was
vulnerable under that tough exterior while Lily’s siren nature kept her invulnerable.
“Forget it.” Jet spun on her heels and strode off.
“She’ll cool down after her swim,” Lily assured Shelly. “You know how she is.”
Shelly returned inside and aimlessly paced the rooms, picking up objects and putting them back down. No word from Tillman, and now she’d pissed off one of the two people she had left in the world. Her cousins had generously let her in their home, at a time when Shelly was reeling from her bad breakup and the death of her parents.
Shelly flopped on the couch and turned on the television. Two mind-numbing sitcoms later, she got off the couch, disgusted with the self-pity.
The sound of exploding glass froze her. Shards of glass rained across her hair and cheeks like sleet. Something slimy thumped against her chest and slid to her feet. Shelly’s gaze took in the gaping hole at the front window, before dropping downward. In the TV’s flickering light, scales shimmered on an eighteen-inch Spanish mackerel.
The fish was mutilated. Its eyes had been cut from the sockets and guts spilled out from a knife embedded in the middle of its body. Pinned to the knife was a white sheet of blood and slime-stained paper.
Shelly saw it, but her mind refused to accept it as real. Her breath caught in her chest as her gaze jerked to the window. Through the sheer curtain was the pale outline of a human body.
The killer was out there, watching.
Shelly ran to the side of the window, away from his line of vision. Get the gun. In the foyer she withdrew the .32 caliber handgun stored in the top drawer of the entry table. It was more a collector’s piece than a weapon, but it was loaded. She killed the lights and stood in the dark, heart skittering. The silence roared in her ears like pounding waves during a storm at sea.
She waited, ears strained for the faintest of noises.
Nothing.
When she couldn’t stand it any longer, Shelly crawled over broken glass back into the living room, the television providing enough light to spot the fish on the floor. She grabbed its slimy body and pulled it to her chest.
Oh, shit. Were the doors locked? She went to the front one. Locked. But she didn’t remember locking the back door after Jet and Lily left. Grateful for her night vision, Shelly crept to the back and saw she had locked it earlier. She fled to the bathroom and locked herself in. Careful not to leave fingerprints on the knife or note, Shelly used a washcloth to dislodge the cheap switchblade knife and read the note.
I know what you are. You have something that belongs to me. I’ll email in 48 hours for instructions on where to meet. You better bring it, bitch. Next time it’s a knife through your fucking heart.
An odd noise cut through the low drone of the TV, a scraping and crunching sound followed by a creak from the wooden floorboards.
Shelly flipped off the bathroom light. Her breath came in painful jags that burned her throat, yet she couldn’t suck down enough oxygen. The air pressed in around her and her vision blackened along the periphery until only the note remained visible. The black ink of the message burned her retinas like striking mamba snakes.
The killer was inside. Deep down, she had known this moment would come, had been expecting it ever since the night she’d caught him dumping a body. Footsteps sounded in the kitchen from rubber-bottomed shoes that slightly squeaked on the tile.
Closer now, he was getting closer.
Shelly pressed her back against the cold marble wall behind the door and raised the gun, finger on the trigger. If he entered, she would get the first shot off. Through the closed door she heard him stumble against the kitchen table. He was within a few feet of her hiding place.
She held her breath as seconds passed in silence. A slight movement from below caught her eye.
The brass doorknob turned.
This was it.
Something bumped against the door and the handle rattled as the killer tried to force his way in. She debated shooting him through the thick door, but was afraid the bullet wouldn’t penetrate and might ricochet.
Wait. If he got in, she’d shoot.
Silence again descended but Shelly sensed him on the other side. Any moment now the door would crash.
“I know you’re in there,” he whispered. His voice was low and gravelly, the same voice from the earlier phone call. “Come on out. I won’t hurt you.” He sounded calm, as if cajoling a lover after a spat or coaxing a frightened child from under a bed.
She bit her lip, careful not to moan or betray her position. Her arms trembled from the strain of holding the gun at chest level.
A sudden crashing noise on the other side almost made her drop the gun. His fists battered the door with a steady pounding.
“Bitch! You fucking bitch.”
His shrill scream made her clammy and nauseous. He drew in deep, ragged breaths, as if trying to regain control of his rage. When he spoke again, his voice shook with suppressed emotion.
“You better give me the knife next time. Because if you don’t I’m going to get you when you least expect it.” He paused. “You hear me, you fucking freak? You and your sister.”
He slammed his fist against the door one last time and she heard retreating footsteps. The killer either threw or ran into something and the sound of crashing glass exploded from the living room.
Shelly lowered the gun as her body shook uncontrollably with surprise and relief. Not only had she put herself in danger, her cousins were also at risk. They were the only family she had left in the world and she had done this to them.
An even worse thought crept inside her mind. What if the killer was still outside the house and saw them returning from their swim? She had to warn them.
Resolutely, Shelly inched open the bathroom door. She refused to be reduced to a cowering prisoner in her own bathroom.
Gun in hand, she went outside, eyes and ears on alert. The shed seemed a mile away instead of a few yards. Just put one foot in front of the other.
A silly song from elementary school flashed through her brain and Shelly sang, “Row, row, row your boat,” as if she was in kindergarten, drowning out her fear of the bogeyman. Her wobbly off-pitch alto had nothing going for it except volume, a childhood magical fallback to ward off danger. If the killer was out there, he was laughing his ass off right about now.
The sudden hoot of an owl interrupted the melody. Shelly froze, but heard nothing over the roaring of blood in her ears. “Row, row, row your boat,” she sang even louder. “Merrily, merrily—” She paused at the shed door. What if he was inside waiting? “Merrily, merrily. Life is but a dream.”
Shelly flung the door open and stood back, gun drawn, waiting for a dark shadow to emerge and attack. She entered cautiously, flipped on the light switch and bolted the door behind her. Quickly disrobing, she placed the gun under her discarded clothes and dove into the sea portal, fishtailing down the cave’s narrow tunnel until she broke free to the wide expanse of the underwater world.
In spite of her fear, the transformation from human to mermaid felt damn good. The salty sea enveloped her body, and its wet comfort set every cell tingling and dancing. But there was a new wariness, too. Even here. The killer was with her no matter where she tried to escape.
“Jet? Lily?” Shelly pushed the words out of her lungs, sent them bubbling through the water’s mass.
“Shelly—we’re close,” Jet answered. “Something wrong?”
“The killer’s been here again. He got inside the house. Come home.”
“Coming,” Jet said. “Five minutes.”
Shelly tried to take comfort in the water while waiting. But instead of relaxing, she lay on a bed of sand and stared at the ocean’s surface. The waning coral moon rippled and shimmered over a patch of water as she waited for the sound of a boat engine to explode onto the serene waterscape, dumping another dead human into her open arms.
A disturbance in the sound waves and the trembling against her sensitive tail fin preceded her cousins�
�� arrival. Jet appeared first, her face fiercer than when on land. She gripped a knife, at the ready. “Where is he?”
“Gone. I hope. Had to warn you before you came through the portal.”
“You hurt?” Jet swam around her, searching for injuries.
Lily’s long hair streamed unexpectedly in Shelly’s face, blue eyes blazing.
“Shelly’s okay,” Jet said.
Lily laid a cold, clammy hand on Shelly’s shoulder. “Let’s go home. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”
They entered the house cautiously and systematically went room by room searching for the killer. Shelly looked under every bed, opened every closet.... Nothing.
“I wonder why he left without making you give him the knife,” Jet said.
Or killed me, Shelly silently added. “That does it,” she told them. “I’m going to see Tillman again. This time I’ll describe the killer and tell him I was a witness.”
Jet grabbed her arm. “You can’t. You start blabbing and you put all of us in danger.”
“I have to go with Jet on this one,” Lily said. “Think of all the mermaids—”
“I’m nothing but a TRAB—a traitor baby—to other mermaids.” Shelly jerked her arm away from Jet. “I’m not good enough for your pure race. I’m not welcome in your mermaid world.” The bitter words tumbled out. “I’m a big fat nothing.”
“That’s not true.” Lily stroked Shelly’s hair. “We don’t hold your human side against you. Can’t you keep quiet for us? Your cousins?”
Shelly swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I’ll do what I can to protect you. But I have to make things right and help Tillman stop the killings.”
Jet’s dark eyes glistened like burning obsidian. “In other words, you choose a human over us, your mermaid family. Just like your mother did.”
“Leave Mom out of this,” Shelly snapped. “This is different and you know it.”
“I’m outta here.” Jet turned abruptly away.
“Think about it carefully,” Lily said. “Look how unhappy your mother ended up. One day you will have to choose between our worlds. Remember we’re your family. Not Tillman.”
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