Killer Within

by Jeff Gunhus

  “Just me being clumsy. Took a tumble off a curb while I was running.”

  “Are you OK?” He nodded toward her legs. “Looks like you spilled a little of the red stuff.”

  “I’m fine, really. No big deal.” She paused, but when Arnie didn’t say anything, she gave a little wave and said, “Well, it was good to see you again. I’m heading in for a shower. Take care.”

  She had already taken a few steps toward the Calvert House before Arnie could jump in. “I . . . I was actually up here to see if you were around.”

  Allison turned toward him with a shy smile. “Really?”

  Arnie took stock of the smile. It registered interest but not too much. He had been right about this one. She was going to be a challenge. “I sailed over this morning from St. Michaels with my son. We were about to have lunch at McGarvey’s and then take a cruise on the Bay. I thought you might like to come along.”

  Allison made an obvious glance down at Arnie’s ring finger. He saw the look and held up his left hand to show a bare finger. Allison smiled. “Sorry, caught me. I’ve just been down that road before.”

  “My wife passed away over ten years ago.”

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  Arnie waved her apology away. “No worries. A strange man you met in a bar tracks you down to ask you out for a boat ride, it’s natural to wonder.”

  Allison shook her head. “Still, thanks but I don’t think that’s a good idea. I really need to clean myself up and get a change of clothes. Maybe some other time?”

  The door to the Calvert House slammed shut on the porch just above them. It was loud enough to startle them both and make them look up at the red-faced man standing on top of the stairs. He looked at Allison expectedly, as if he had finally gotten up the courage to talk to her, but his face went blank on seeing Arnie. The man rushed down the stairs, hands stuffed into his pockets, mumbling a mangled combination of an apology and telling them both to have a nice day. Arnie watched him go, amused.

  “Looks like you have more than one admirer here.”

  “Oh, him? Yeah, I see him every morning in the lobby. I talked to him over a cup of coffee the first day I was here. Software sales. Almost put me back to sleep. Ever since then I’ve tried to avoid conversation with him.”

  “I think he’s a little sweet on you.”

  Allison blew by the comment. “Anyway, thanks for the offer. It was nice of you to think of me.”

  Arnie felt the opportunity slipping away. “Listen, like I said, my son and I will be down at McGarvey’s for the next hour or so having lunch. We’d love to have you come out with us for a little afternoon cruise. If you decide you’d like to come, either meet us there or at Olde Towne Marina. Do you know where that is?”

  “Behind St. Mary’s, right?”

  “We’re the yellow catamaran. Sweet Ride.”

  “Sweet Ride?”

  “All my son’s doing. If it was up to me, I would have named it Endurance or Intrepid.”

  “Sweet Ride’s better.”

  “That’s what my son tells me. So, can we expect you?”

  Allison smiled. “No promises, but if I get myself together, I’ll try to meet you at McGarvey’s. Don’t wait for me, though, all right? I might have to get some work done.”

  “I have a thirteen-year-old son who loves to sail. No waiting will be allowed.”

  “Come on, Dad. You said five more minutes ten minutes ago.”

  Arnie sipped his third Diet Coke and glanced at his watch. He’d stretched out the lunch as long as possible, but it had been more than an hour since he’d spoken to Allison. He’d already paid the bill, so when Jason complained a second time, he nodded. “You’re right; let’s get going.”

  They cleared out of the restaurant with a few good-byes and headed through town to St. Mary’s. Less than ten minutes later they were at the catamaran, getting ready to throw off the lines and get under way. Arnie was thinking of the next way he would arrange an encounter with Allison, when a woman’s voice called out from the shore.

  “Have room for one more?”

  Arnie waved at Allison, now wearing shorts and a white sleeveless blouse and toting a backpack of what he assumed was photographic equipment.

  “You made it.”

  “Sorry I cut it so close; I had a long call from the editor who’s interested in doing a coffee-table book with my pictures. I thought I missed you.”

  “Glad you made it. Come aboard.”

  Jason came up from below deck and locked eyes with Allison. “Oh man,” he blew out with sagging shoulders, then turned and went back down the stairs.

  Allison looked at Arnie. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I think someone wants his dad all to himself today.”

  Arnie reached out a hand to help her on board. “He’s fine. Trust me, once we get under way, he won’t even notice you’re here.”

  Allison hesitated but finally took the outstretched hand and climbed onto the deck. “This is an impressive boat.”

  “Thanks. She sails great. We’ll get some awesome pictures for you today.”

  Allison took a seat, lowered the sunglasses that were perched on her head, and soaked up the sun beaming down the teak deck. Jason appeared when his dad called and, with a cold look in Allison’s direction, went about the work of casting off lines and stowing the buoys.

  “Look, your not-so-secret admirer,” Arnie said, pointing to the bridge ahead of them.

  Allison raised her sunglasses and squinted in the direction he indicated. On the end of the bridge, leaning over the edge and staring at the catamaran, was the man from the bed-and-breakfast. “It is. That’s Dockers-man.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I forgot his name so that’s what I call him. He wears Dockers pants every day.”

  “It’s a little creepy that he followed you down here. Do you want me to talk to him when we get back?”

  “Oh, he’s harmless. I can handle Dockers-man all by myself.” She stood up and waved at him. “Hi there. Yeah, you.”

  The man stood up and marched away off the bridge.

  “That wasn’t very friendly,” Allison said, pretending to be offended.

  Arnie chuckled at the man’s expense and angled the catamaran for the bridge that was just starting to rise. He stole glances at Allison when he thought she wasn’t looking, marveling at her tan skin, smooth complexion, and a figure that he had even seen his son take notice of. He found himself hoping it wouldn’t be necessary for her to die, even though part of him knew such thinking was useless. She would have to be killed because of the nervous fear she had caused in him, that bitterly cold reminder of the man he once was. The complication of people having seen them together simply made the game more exciting. The rush more intoxicating.

  He returned her smile and rifled through his mental catalog of the different ways he might do it. Years of studying killers had given him a vast library of options from which to choose. Everything from the sublime to the grotesque. But he wanted something special for her. Something original.

  They motored out of the harbor, Arnie lost in a daydream of hot blood and carved-up flesh, all sound-tracked with imagined screams for mercy from the beautiful woman in front of him.

  Just another gorgeous day on the Chesapeake Bay.

  CHAPTER 14

  FBI Special Agent Scott Hansford watched the catamaran slide through the harbor until it made the turn south into the Bay and out of view. He was just about done playing nanny to Allison. What started as a favor to a friend and an excuse to spend a few days in Annapolis away from the Washington DC cesspool had turned into a major pain in his ass. First Allison refused to talk to him; now she was openly calling attention to him as if he were some kind of stalker. That and she made him look like a fool by constantly sneaking off and losing him.

  Scott pulled h
is phone out of his pocket to call Richard and tell him he had better things to do with his time.

  But as he scrolled through the contacts on his phone for Richard’s number, he lost his momentum. Scott realized that calling now would inevitably lead to the question of the last time he saw Allison. He didn’t feel like having to explain how she blew past him and ended on a boat sailing out to the middle of the Bay with Arnie Milhouse. At least the kid was with them, Scott thought. How much trouble could Allison really get into with a fourteen-year-old on board?

  Still, he knew Richard would never let him hear the end of it. Scott slid his phone back into his pocket and decided to wait it out a little longer. He wondered if Richard’s interest in Allison’s comings and goings was professional or personal. Likely a little of both, he concluded. Scott didn’t mind. He just didn’t understand what everyone saw in Allison. Sure, she was good-looking and smart. But as far as Scott was concerned, she was just a walking liability that left a trail of damage wherever she went.

  Scott hoped she would wrap up her little foray into Annapolis sooner than later and that he would escape unscathed by the experience. After that, if he had his way, he would never cross paths with her again.

  CHAPTER 15

  Allison snapped some pictures of the aft of the catamaran with her handheld Nikon 100 and tried deep, controlled breathing to calm her nerves. She still couldn’t believe she was on the boat with Arnie. Couldn’t believe that she had taken up his offer after the meltdown she had just had. But, she had argued with herself in the mirror after a hurried shower at the Calvert House, it was the whole reason she was in Annapolis to begin with.

  Yet so much was on the line that she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that she was rushing things. Her mental state after the run-in with Craig Gerty was fragile at best. Even she knew that if it weren’t for the adrenaline rush from having things progress so fast with Arnie, she might very well be back in her room at the Calvert House right now, under the covers in bed, crying herself to sleep.

  That was probably why she was on the boat, she thought, multitasking her self-analysis and snapping off a series of photos of two racing yachts slanted at nearly forty-five-degree angles as they bent over against the wind. She knew she should have waited until she had her emotions in check, but the other option was to deal with Gerty.

  “How’s Charlie doing?” Arnie asked.

  “Good. He’s out of the hospital and back home. On crutches instead of a wheelchair. In good spirits, though.”

  “Good spirits? When isn’t Charlie in good spirits?”

  He’s not very happy when you kick him in the nuts, she thought. “Yeah, he’s a good kid.” She looked up to the bow of the boat, where Jason sat cross-legged on the net stretched between the two hulls. “Is Jason all right? He seems upset.”

  “He’s a little mad at me. Pouting like any thirteen-year-old does from time to time.”

  “It must be hard,” Allison said. “Raising him by yourself.”

  “Not so bad. I’m lucky to have control of my schedule. I have help too, but I try to be there as much as I can for him.”

  Allison nodded. “What is it that you do?”

  “Investments.”

  “You must be pretty good at it. Following in the family footsteps?”

  Arnie cracked a smile. “Is that a nice way of asking if I was a spoiled rich kid or if I earned this stuff myself?”

  “No—I—I mean . . .”

  “I’m just giving you a hard time. My folks split up when I was a teenager. Dad took off. Mom took to the bottle. So I left when I was sixteen. You know, the all-American childhood. Not sure what happened to either of them.”

  They were quiet for a few moments, the unsettled silence between strangers when an unexpectedly private thought is shared for the first time.

  “My folks divorced when I was in college,” Allison said. “Just called me up one day to say they’d only stayed together for my sake and now that I wasn’t home, it didn’t seem necessary to keep up the charade.”

  “They told you over the phone?” Arnie said, as if this slight were so much worse than his own story.

  “Mom remarried a week after the divorce was final, so I think it’d been going on awhile. Dad still lives alone.”

  “Usually it’s men who remarry. Looking for someone to take care of them.”

  “No, once was enough for him, I think. My dad’s really big on people being able to take care of themselves.”

  “And you? Ever been married?” Arnie asked, pulling a line to tighten the foresail as the wind shifted a bit. “Or are you really big on being able to take care of yourself?”

  Allison laughed. “God, no. Freelance photography means constant travel. I’ve never met a man who was willing to put up with that and me at the same time.”

  “So nothing against marriage, just selfish men.”

  “Yeah, I guess you could say that. Or that I’m too selfish myself to compromise.”

  “Compromise is overrated.”

  “Says the bachelor,” Allison said with a laugh.

  Arnie turned serious. “You know what you want from life and you’re living it. I respect that. Most people spend their lives wishing they were doing something else. They buy into the drudgery of daily life, the consumerism, the fifty-hour workweek, buying weekends by wasting weekdays. People waste their lives away, not even complaining, just accepting the shittiness, the smallness of their existence. How can they not feel like there’s something bigger out there for them? Why don’t they chase after it?”

  Allison watched as Arnie’s body language told the story beneath the words. The veins in his neck became more pronounced. The knuckles on the wheel turned white as he grasped the wood. He wasn’t talking to her but rather straight into the wind, not shouting but with the strict sternness of a father talking to a child, chastising, teaching a lesson.

  “Because they’re afraid,” Allison said softly, surprised to find that she actually agreed with him. “They’re afraid there’s nothing better.”

  Before Arnie could say anything, his body language changed again. He stood up straighter and looked out over the deck. “Jason, get down from there. You know better than that.”

  Allison looked up to the bow and saw Jason balanced on the net near the tip of the aft hull. He had a life vest on, but it hung loose off his shoulders, obviously not snapped in the front. The water was rougher on the open Bay, and the catamaran was making fast work of the waves that crested before them. Jason had to have heard his father, but he didn’t acknowledge him.

  “Teenagers,” Arnie mumbled to Allison, but she could see the fear in his face. He clambered forward. “Jason. Jason! Get back from the edge and put your life vest on correctly. Right now, son, or we’re—”

  Arnie froze halfway to the front of the boat. The bow dipped down into the trough of a swell, and the catamaran’s speed pushed them through the wave. The bow dug under the water briefly, and Jason was lost in a wall of churning foam. The catamaran rose out of the wave, and the boy slammed back into the hull, hitting his head with a sickening thunk. He had one arm flung over the hold line, legs dragging in the water, the life jacket half off his body.

  “Jason!” Arnie cried out.

  The catamaran dipped into the trough of the next wave, and water tugged at Jason’s legs. He was holding on weakly with one arm. His other hand held his head.

  “Hold on, Jason. I’m coming.”

  A wave washed over Jason’s midsection, and the catamaran hit the bottom of the next wave trough hard enough to loosen his grip. The water swirled around him and, in a rush of foam and spray, Jason was gone.

  Arnie shouted and pushed his way through the rigging to the edge of the boat.

  Allison was standing in the rear of the craft and saw the bright orange of the life jacket racing past them as the catamaran sped thr
ough the water. On pure instinct, she ran toward the back of the boat and dove into the water.

  Even in July, hitting the water took her breath away. She treaded water until she saw a flash of orange bobbing on the crest of a small wave not more than fifteen feet to her right.

  She swam over to it but it was just the life jacket. No Jason.

  Sucking down a deep breath, she dove in, her eyes open and stinging from the salty water. Visibility was nonexistent anyway.

  She flailed her arms around wildly, grasping through the murky water.

  Nothing.

  She heard the whirr of a motor underwater. The catamaran was coming back.

  C’mon, kid. Where are you?

  There! She brushed up against something with her right hand.

  Her lungs burning from lack of oxygen, she reached out and took hold of the boy’s body.

  Jason was deadweight as she pulled him to the surface, breaking the water just as she thought her breath would give out and she’d suck water into her own lungs.

  The catamaran was closing in fast, so she floated Jason’s body in front of her, one arm slung across his chest to keep his head up and the other stretched out, treading water.

  Seconds later, Arnie had the catamaran maneuvered next to her and strong hands lifted Jason onto the deck.

  By the time Allison pulled herself up the ladder, Jason was already spitting up water and sputtering from the CPR being performed by his father.

  She collapsed on the deck, relief washing over her as the boy took full breaths and started crying.

  Crying was good. Crying meant alive.

  Allison caught her breath and steadied herself. She looked up at Arnie to make sure he was all right. She wasn’t sure what she expected: gratitude, relief, joy, something. But what she got was as unmistakable as it was brief, quickly and artfully replaced by a mask of concern for her own well-being. But before the false expression could find its proper place, Allison saw the rage burning just under the surface. While most parents would have loved Allison for what she had just done, for some reason Arnie Milhouse seemed to hate her for it.