Dead in the Water

by Denise Swanson

  When Thea hung up, she said, “I’ve checked with everyone I can think of—all the officers, the ILEAS coordinator, and the fire chief. No one has seen or heard from the chief since before eleven o’clock.”

  “That’s about the time of his last text to me.” Skye rubbed her belly.

  “All the officers are keeping an eye out for his squad car,” Thea said.

  “Could he have run over to Laurel to talk to the ME about Zeke Lyons?”

  “That’s a thought.” Thea reached for the phone. “Let me check with the medical examiner and the crime scene lab.” She pressed the buttons on the receiver. “First thing this morning, the chief requested the techs look at the scene. He said he doubted they’d find anything in the rubble, but wanted to cover his bases.”

  While Thea made her calls, Skye tried to think of anywhere else Wally might be. The only option she could come up with was their house, and if he was there, her mother would have already let her know.

  Thea disconnected and said, “The chief isn’t at the ME’s or the lab.” The dispatcher pressed her lips together. “I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Let me look in his office,” Skye said walking toward the stairs. “If there’s nothing there, we need to have Sergeant Quirk put out an APB.”

  Chapter 10

  “Dear me,” said the Voice, “how sudden! Well, come to me tomorrow, for I must have time to think it over.”

  —The Wizard

  As Skye climbed the steps to the police station’s second floor, she whispered to herself, “Wally’s fine. There’s no need to panic. There’ll be something on his desk that will explain his absence.”

  Using her key to unlock the door to his office, Skye hurried across the large room. Wally’s desktop was strewn with documents and she sank into his leather chair. It would take a while to go through everything and she was beyond tired. Dealing with the tornado, adjusting to news of the twins, and shopping had already exhausted her. Wally’s absence was the final straw.

  Thirty minutes later, Skye had listened to his voicemail—nothing helpful—studied every scrap of paper, and examined every folder. She separated the documents into two piles—tornado and murder—but there hadn’t been any hint as to Wally’s location.

  Snatching the silver-framed photograph of their wedding from the desktop, Skye leaned back in the chair and stared at the portrait. Her gown had been gorgeous and Wally had been even more handsome than usual in his tuxedo. They’d been so happy that day. Years of obstacles and missteps were behind them and they were finally together. If something had happened to Wally, she wasn’t sure she could go on.

  Skye traced a finger over his image and set the picture aside. She wasn’t giving up. There had to be a clue somewhere. She glanced at the computer. Maybe there was something on his schedule.

  Shaking the mouse to wake up the screen, Skye searched her mind for Wally’s password. She had all that kind of information in the file cabinet at home. Or at least she’d had it. Who knew where that folder was now?

  Think! Think! Think! She pounded her forehead with the heel of her hand. As she gazed at their wedding portrait, the answer popped into her brain. She quickly typed HoneymoonCruise2006 and she was in. Too bad the only entry on Wally’s schedule for today was her ob-gyn appointment.

  Shit! Now what? She considered the various icons on the home screen. Maybe he’d gotten an email and had decided to respond in person.

  Inspecting the list dated today, Skye paused at the one from the medical examiner. It was the preliminary findings from Zeke Lyons’s autopsy. Even though it didn’t look as if Wally had opened the email from the ME, Skye thought maybe there was a way to keep messages appearing as new. Her tech skills were pretty limited.

  If he had read it, there might be something in the description that Wally could have left to investigate. Someone he’d want to interview.

  Skye clicked on the ME’s email and skimmed the report. The only interesting information was that the half a dozen pair of distinctive, round burn marks on Zeke Lyons’s chest were thought to have come from a device that had administered an electric shock. However, they didn’t match any of the standard stun guns and the crime lab was still trying to figure out the kind of weapon that was used.

  The electrical discharge had aggravated an underlying arterial weakness in his brain, which led to a hemorrhagic stroke. And evidently, that type of stroke caused peripheral neuropathy, which would have made Zeke’s feet feel as if they were on fire. The ME theorized that the victim’s shoes were off because of that sensation.

  Delusions were another byproduct of that type of stroke, which might explain the location and position of Zeke’s body. He might have wandered into the bathroom and barricaded himself inside before dying.

  Skye contemplated what she’d learned about the councilman’s death. If she were Wally, where would she go after reading the medical examiner’s summary?

  After several long seconds, she shrugged. She’d want to talk to whoever might have administered the electrical shock. But she had no idea who, besides looters, would have been around in the period right before or after the storm. Did burglars carry devices that could shock people?

  Shaking her head, Skye tried unsuccessfully to call Wally. While leaving yet another voicemail, Skye received a text from May stating that the motor coach had arrived and was being set up. After thanking her mom for the update, Skye buried her head in her hands and cried. There was still no sign of Wally or any clue to his whereabouts. Something had definitely happened to him and she wasn’t sure what to do next.

  A few minutes later, Skye scrubbed her eyes and took a deep breath. She needed to be strong and control her emotions. Shoving her fears aside, she trudged down the stairs. Her legs felt as if they were made of lead instead of flesh and bones, and she barely made it to the first floor without falling to her knees and giving up.

  Finally, she smoothed her hair, straightened her spine, and went to find Thea. It was time to call in Sergeant Quirk and get all the officers searching for their missing chief.

  • • •

  “It’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry.” Roy Quirk awkwardly patted Skye’s back. “We’ll locate Chief Boyd. It’s probably just some kind of mix-up because of the confusion with the tornado aftermath. He’ll show up safe and sound and we’ll all laugh at ourselves for being so upset.”

  From the corner of her eye, Skye studied the sergeant. Roy was in his midthirties, and except for his lack of hair, he still looked like the football player he’d been in high school. He had a muscular build, no discernible neck, and tree-trunk-like thighs.

  Skye and the sergeant had gotten off to a rocky start when they’d first met. Skye hadn’t been hired as an official consultant yet, and although Wally had been open to her help in solving cases, Quirk hadn’t thought a female civilian should be sticking her nose into police business. However, unlike the previous time when Wally hadn’t been around during an investigation, now Roy seemed more than happy to consult with her and include her in the process. Which was a darn good thing. Otherwise, the sergeant might find himself singing soprano instead of bass.

  “I’ve issued a bulletin to all police departments in Illinois to be on the lookout for Chief Boyd and/or his vehicle.” Roy repeated what he’d already told her several times. “And if the chief doesn’t turn up within the next few hours, the state police have agreed to launch an aerial search of the region.”

  “That’s good.” Skye sniffed, refusing to cry. “I read about this officer that was found using location equipment in his police cruiser. Can’t we tap into Wally’s car?”

  “If Mayor Leofanti had approved our request for new vehicles we could.” Quirk scowled. “But he didn’t and our current cruisers don’t have that technology. I have put a request into the county crime lab to attempt to track the chief’s cell.”

  “But?” Sk
ye tilted her head. Roy was holding something back.

  “But, if the device is off or the SIM card has been removed, that won’t work,” Quirk admitted. “And since the chief’s phone keeps going directly to voicemail, there’s a good chance it isn’t on.”

  “So we’re stuck with the old-fashioned method?” Skye paced the length of the interrogation/coffee room. “Besides our people searching, what else can we do?”

  “That’s the thing.” Quirk’s tone was reluctant. “I can’t pull our guys away from clearing the buildings demolished by the tornadoes.”

  “The hell you can’t!” Skye snapped, skidding to a stop in front of Roy and leaning past her huge belly so they were nose to nose. “Get volunteers on the houses. Wally’s officers should be the ones looking for him.”

  “I promise you that every officer, firefighter, and paramedic in the area is keeping their eyes peeled for any sign of the chief.” Roy retreated a few feet and held up his palm. “Every five minutes, Thea tries his radio and Lonny tries his cell.”

  “Okay.” Skye strangled the word. “But there has to be something more we can do.”

  “If the chief’s vehicle is located and he isn’t in it, I will pull our guys from clearing houses and we’ll do a grid search. I’ve reached out to an organization in Wisconsin that will bring in bloodhounds once we have a general area for the dogs to explore.”

  “Uh-huh.” Skye swallowed, trying to hold back her tears. “I guess I should call Wally’s father and let him know what’s happening. I don’t want him finding out from the media that his son is missing.”

  “You do that.” Quirk stepped toward the door. “Can I get someone here for you?”

  “Mom will be here for her shift soon,” Skye said, attempting to paste a brave smile on her face. “I’m fine and I don’t want to take anyone away from helping people who really need it.”

  “Is your cell charged?” Roy paused halfway into the hallway.

  “I plugged it in while I was searching Wally’s office.” Skye exhaled. “As much as I want to panic, I’m trying to keep it together for my babies.”

  “Babies?” Quirk’s eyebrows rose.

  “I mean this baby.” Skye patted her belly. “And our kitty, Bingo.”

  “Of course.” Roy’s expression let Skye know that he questioned her sanity. “If you think of anyplace the chief might be, let me know.”

  Skye nodded and Quirk closed the door behind him as he left. Skye blew out a breath. She needed to be more careful. That had been a close one. She had to warn her mother again not tell anyone about the twins. Wally had the right to be the first to hear that news.

  After getting a bottle of water from the coffee room fridge—if she didn’t stay hydrated, the Braxton-Hicks contractions were more likely to start up—Skye took out her cell and dialed Wally’s father.

  The phone barely rang before Carson answered. “Did the motor coach arrive?”

  “It did.” Skye decided to ease into the bad news. “They’re in the process of setting it up right now.”

  “What do you think of it?” Carson asked. “I hope it’s big enough.”

  “I’m sure it will be wonderful,” Skye assured him. “I haven’t seen it yet, but Mom’s on site supervising and she says it’s amazing.”

  “Good. Good.” Carson’s voice oozed satisfaction. “How did your doctor’s appointment go? Is my adorable grandchild behaving and on schedule?”

  “So far.” Skye battled the urge to tell him about the twins. “Dr. Johnson seemed pleased.”

  “I checked her out,” Carson said. “She’s been named the best ob-gyn in Illinois five years running. She’s very well thought of in her field.”

  Skye rolled her eyes. Of course Carson had looked into her doctor. She wasn’t just carrying his grandchild; she was carrying what he hoped would be the next president of CB International.

  “I like Dr. J,” Skye said firmly. “And that’s what really counts.”

  “How’re things in Scumble River? From the news, it looks like a significant portion of the town has been devastated.” Carson seemed settled in for a long chat. “Is there anything that I can do to help out? Say the word and I’ll get whatever the community needs.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” Skye smiled. “Once the dust settles a little, I’ll let you know what folks need. At this moment, people are still too shell-shocked to have figured out much beyond their immediate necessities. And those seem to be under control.”

  “How’s my son doing with all this?” Carson asked. “I imagine seeing his town in ruins is hard on him. I’m glad you’re with him.”

  “Actually…” Skye fought back the urge to cry. “That’s why I’m calling.”

  “Oh.” Carson’s tone was cautious. “Is there a problem with Wally?”

  “We don’t know.” Skye decided the best way to tell her father-in-law was to rip off the bandage. “No one has seen or heard from him since this morning at eleven o’clock. He’s not answering his radio or cell phone, and he didn’t tell the dispatcher where he was heading.”

  “What’s being done?” Carson demanded. “I hope they aren’t making you wait twenty-four hours to declare him a missing person.”

  “No.” Skye had been afraid of that herself. “When an on-duty officer goes missing, those restrictions aren’t an issue.”

  “In that case, what’s happening?” Carson sounded strained.

  Skye outlined what was in place, then added, “I’ve been racking my brain as to where Wally could be. Yesterday, after the tornadoes, he discovered that someone had been murdered. I’m thinking that his disappearance has something to do with that case.”

  “Is there a list of suspects?” Carson asked. “Could Wally have gone to interview one of them and been ambushed? Has Quirk checked on that?”

  “As far as I know, there aren’t any suspects yet. Mr. Lyons’s life seems too boring to inspire a passionate murder.”

  “Those quiet ones can fool you.”

  “Maybe. But I think the working theory is that he was killed by looters.” Skye moved the water bottle on the table and drew her fingers through the condensation left behind. “The preliminary medical examiner’s report only came in a few hours ago and I’m not even sure Wally saw it.”

  “Oh.” Carson paused, then asked, “Did you read the ME’s report?”

  “Uh-huh.” Skye blew out a frustrated breath. “I need to think about it some more. My first impression was that it didn’t really point to anyone.”

  “So if Wally didn’t go to interrogate a suspect, what else might he do to investigate a murder?” Carson asked. “Would he take another look at the crime scene or go talk to the medical examiner?”

  “The dispatcher checked with the ME, and if his cruiser was at the crime scene, someone would have seen it,” Skye explained. “My father is arranging for me to borrow my uncle’s car, and once I have wheels, I plan on driving down every road in the city limits.”

  “Not alone! What if Wally was grabbed by a bad guy and that creep gets you, too?” Carson roared. “Someone needs to go with you. Preferably someone armed.”

  “Everyone is busy.” Skye slumped in defeat. “Uncle Charlie has lots of displaced people at the motor court. All my relatives and friends are either clearing their own property of debris or helping their own families. There’s just no one for me to ask.”

  “Listen to me, sweetheart, you go get settled in the motor coach,” Carson ordered. “I’m hopping on the company plane. You hold off until I get to you, and then you and I will find my boy.” Skye could hear him giving orders to someone on his end, then he came back on the line. “Hang in there. I’ll be with you by ten tonight.”

  “If I wait until then, we’ll lose the light,” Skye argued. “I can’t just sit around and do nothing while Wally may be in trouble.”

  “You aren’t,�
� Carson soothed. “Your first priority is to take care of your baby. And while you’re getting into some fresh clothes and resting, you let that amazing brain of yours go to work.”

  “Well…” Skye sighed. Carson was right. She owed her babies the best she could do for them. And as it was, she was too tired to think straight. A shower, a different outfit, and a nap might be just what she needed to kick-start her brain and figure something out. “Okay. I’ll do what you suggest. But if you aren’t here by ten and I can’t find anyone else, I’m going out on my own.”

  “I’ll be there and the dark won’t stop us. I’m having my Hummer loaded on the plane as we speak. It has the most powerful searchlight made attached to the roof.” Carson paused, then said, “And I’m licensed to carry. Anyone who messes with me or mine will be real, real sorry, darlin’.”

  “Got it.” Skye wiped at her eyes. When Carson had called her darlin’, he’d sounded just like his son. “See you soon, Dad.”

  Disconnecting, Skye took a deep breath. She could do this. She could be as strong as she needed to be to find Wally and take care of her babies.

  Skye called Frannie, who agreed to keep Bingo for a couple more days. Hanging up, Skye sent a text to May, asking her to come get her, then headed outside to wait for her mother to arrive.

  As she passed the multiple whiteboards listing people trying to connect, find possessions, and locate pets, Skye saw an elderly woman leaning against the board, crying. She started to walk by, but even with all her own troubles, she just couldn’t do it.

  Stopping, she said, “Is there anything I can do to help? Anyone I can call?”

  “No.” The woman dug a hanky from her pocket and wiped her eyes. “My daughter and son-in-law are on their way here from Maryland.” Her breath hitched. “It’s just when the tornado took my house, it took everything I had of my husband. He died last year and all our pictures and souvenirs from our trips are gone. There’s nothing left. So I came to see if anything had been found. But there’s nothing.”