by R. T. Wolfe
* * *
A dead body. Zoe shivered. She couldn't begin to imagine what kind of person might get themselves in a position to be murdered in a cave. Today, she was thankful her family lived a reserved life. Each held up to the family's reputation of simple, organic humanitarians.
The only thing worse than finding the skull of a murdered person was having everyone around you think you were hallucinating. She was without air for how long? Three minutes? Inwardly, she cringed remembering the panic she'd experienced. Outwardly, she rubbed her throat that still burned from the salt water. To be hallucinating, her ascent would've had to be longer and faster. Probably. And the aches in her joints could as easily be from the crappy day she'd had as they could from decompression sickness.
It was no use trying to ditch her father. He was more scared of her mother than he was of her. And Zoe did save a fortune riding in her father's car instead of taking a cab all the way from St. Pete's to Ibis Island. He hardly said a word on their drive to Ibis City Hall. He loved his family, his goats, his organic garden, and was the kindest, most patient man she'd ever known. Words, on the other hand, were not his thing.
City Hall was a single, small building. Zoe's dad walked with her through the only door along the front. The sensation was that of stepping into an elevator. Complete silence other than quiet music streaming from above. Zoe greeted the receptionist.
The tourist industry may be taking over the island, but it was still homey enough to come equipped with all the small-town features expected from an island this size. Right down to everyone-knows-everyone. She'd gone to high school with the receptionist and was surprised she didn't ask how Zoe was feeling. Then, she remembered only Dane and her family knew of her accident. That wouldn't last. It would take maybe two hours for the entire island to hear about the dead body.
"Good morning, Zoe, Mr. Clearwater. What brings you to our fine establishment?"
Zoe sensed cheap air freshener. Vanilla. And decided to bring fresh flowers the next time she came this way. "Good to see you, Glory. Gotta speak to Chief Roberts. I see his light on. I'll catch up with you later."
She dreaded talking to the chief—lazy good-for-nothing ass. He was on site the day her brother went missing. Every time she saw him, she swore he was judging her for leaving inexperienced Seth without a diving partner. As if she didn't already do that every day of her life. But she'd found a body; she had to report it.
They passed an office with a fake wooden nameplate that read, 'Mayor,' which must have hardly been used since the mayor was also the owner of the local supermarket. His office was next to a conference room with a paper meeting schedule taped to the door. The only date listed was the monthly town board meeting. A common area next to the offices held a handful of metal desks paired in twos. The chief's office was in back.
"Chief?" she called, walking through his open doorway. "I need to report a... well... a murder." The words sounded distant coming out of her mouth.
Slow as hell, his eyes lifted to her. "A murder on Ibis?" He said it as if it would be just as likely a Navy ship anchored at the Sun Trips Touring pier.
"No, no." As she sat in the far guest chair, she realized she might be in the wrong City Hall. What had she been thinking? She wasn't thinking. Her father slid into the chair next to her. Zoe looked around, trying to gather her thoughts. Stuffed bass lined an entire wall with fishing trophies beneath. The room was spotless. Not a pen out of place. The smell of artificial vanilla made her eyes water. "It happened just north of the caverns by St. Pete's. I found a skull, chief. A skull with a knife through its eye socket."
A sadness caught her off guard. A knife through its eye? What a terrifying end to someone's life. At that moment she decided to be a little extra thankful this was Ibis Island and not the busy St. Pete's.
"Now, Zoe, what are you talking about? A body decomposed enough to be just a skull wouldn't still have a knife stuck in it." The chief leaned back in his chair, his belly straining the buttons on his shirt.
That made sense, damn it. "I know what I saw."
He picked up a toothpick from his desk and stuck it in his mouth. "It's not my jurisdiction. Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do."
"That's it? Aren't you going to call the station whose juris-damn-diction it is? Give me a phone number? Anything?"
"If I did all that for all the people who came into my office, I'd have no time for the real work."
As if he ever had anyone come to him. Why bother? "I have proof." Her camera. Where was her camera?
"Dane," she growled.
* * *
Zoe found him in the gift shop side of the building that used to be hers. Now that she was just an employee and not the owner, she'd had more time to rearrange and redecorate. Scuba gear and equipment, pieces for snorkeling, shoes, swimsuits, and plenty of souvenir clothing and trinkets. Her air freshener wasn't artificial vanilla. It was the scent of clean salt water wafting in the open windows from the Gulf.
Of course, Dane's customer was young, blonde, and gorgeous. The way the woman laughed jiggling her fake boobs, Zoe almost suggested they get a room.
Dane wasn't much better. He used his looks for his benefit, Zoe always knew that. It wouldn't have been so annoying if his looks weren't so... beneficial. His sun-kissed brown hair fell in lazy waves over his blue eyes and tanned face. He wore one of his Sun Trips Touring polos, exposing the barbed-wire tattoo that wound around his bicep and triceps. Turquoise beads lay across the middle of a thick, leather bracelet that matched the color of the shirt. Barf.
For the sake of the business, she would wait patiently, her father in tow, for him to finish with the customer. She was used to it.
Wait a minute. It wasn't her business anymore, or her customer. "Hey, boss," she called over the racks of scuba gear. "I'd like a word with you."
The look on his face made her smile. He always hated when she called him 'boss.' As he leaned in to say something in Bleach Blonde's ear, the girl looked as if he confessed that he ran over her cat. Ignoring Zoe, he walked to the back room, then came out with Liam who went for Bleach Blonde.
"Hello, Mr. Clearwater." Dane sauntered toward them as if Zoe wasn't there. "Let's talk in back."
"My camera, Dane." She followed the two of them to her former office. "Where is it?"
He looked to her father, then to her and must have decided on cordial. Sticking his hands in the pockets of his baggy khaki shorts, he answered, "I put anything that looked valuable in the storage box on your boat." From one of his pockets, he pulled out her keys and dangled them in front of her.
She bit her lip at the sight of them. She felt like a brat. "Thank you."
"And you didn't even choke on those two little words." He gestured over his shoulder where they kept their boats, personal and business. "I drove your boat back. It's in the dock."
Now, she really felt like a brat. "Thank you very much." She emphasized the very much, hoping it sounded sincere.
"You took a picture of the dead body?" He said it like he believed her.
"Yes. I'm going to go talk to the chief of police in whatever jurisdiction the palm tree cavern is in." She hated that he knew her well enough that he would recognize her personal reference to the cavern but forced herself to be grateful. "I'm pretty sure it's St. Pete's."
He looked to her father. "I can take her, sir."
Suck up.
"I was first on the scene. That is, after Zoe, here."
Her father seemed to consider for a moment before he nodded. "Harmony would be agreeable to that. And I believe her," he said to Dane as if it were an afterthought.
"You do?" she asked, honestly shocked. "Why didn't you say anything?"
He shrugged as he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. "You seem to have it under control."
"I'm driving," Dane said before Zoe had a chance to call dibs.
They both owned Jeeps. Both were jacked with wide tires. Practical for trudging through the rainy season on a small isl
and off the coast of Florida. Except Dane's had obnoxiously big tires, sat higher from the road, and was the same color as the turquoise polo. Each side, as well as the spare tire cover, advertised Sun Trips Touring.
He drove her the short way to the spot they kept their boats and walked with her along the weather worn dock. Like a gracious, appreciative woman, she didn't say a word about the privacy she craved. She stepped over the side of her boat, letting her sea legs catch up to the sway she'd caused. Dane followed. Sure enough, all her valuables had been secured in her storage box. She took out her camera first and sat in the captain's chair. What if she did imagine it? She bit the side of her lip and glanced at Dane.
He lifted a brow.
She squinted at him and pushed the power button. Without letting herself stall another second, she chose the play feature.
And dropped the camera.
Her mind spun and wanted to sleep, but she forced her eyes open. The back of her head hurt like hell. Somehow she realized she was on her back, the hard floor of the boat beneath her.
"Damn it, woman. You need rest." He knelt over her. She smelled leather, and suntan lotion, and man. The soft corners of his face hardened and framed the cobalt blue of his eyes. Had she fallen? Warmth from his thighs brushed her waist. The muscles in them flexed and released against her slack body.
"Did you see it?" She tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down.
Reaching behind him, he grabbed a bottle of water. "You're not getting up unless you drink this. You've scared the shit out of me enough today."
"Okay, okay. You're right. I'm sorry, and thank you."
"Wow," he said as he released her shoulders. "Three thank yous and an I'm sorry, all in one day."
Rolling her eyes made her head hurt, but it was necessary. He held out her camera, and they rotated, sitting side-by-side.
Placing a hand over the screen, he said, "Drink first."
She waved the bottle back and forth, still in her brat mood, and took a drink. Propping her knees up, she rested the camera on the one closest to him. He leaned in as she pressed the play feature again.
"Whoa," he said as he stared.
The knife that was wedged through the eye socket of the skull, was surrounded by rocks and covered in crustaceans. It must be why it hadn't been swept away with the tide. Where was the rest of the body?
"Yeah, whoa."
Chapter 3
Dane parked his Jeep and turned to Zoe. She sat rubbing her knees in the hot summer morning. Decompression sickness. It was no use lecturing her about getting rest, not until she got this over with. So, he pocketed his keys and slid to the asphalt. Gingerly, she stepped on his running board, then the parking lot. He had an urge to walk around and slide his arm over her shoulder, but he knew better. They weren't like that.
The St. Petersburg police department made the one on Ibis look like a corner drug store. Elevators, long hallways on both sides. Even on a Saturday afternoon, people walked around from room to room, trickling out of the elevators, and waiting in lobby chairs. He and Zoe stopped at the reception counter and, surprisingly, she let him do the talking. "We'd like to report a... crime."
Zoe jerked her head to him. The woman was an endless mystery. He read the frustration in her eyes but had no clue about the cause.
"What kind of a crime, sir?" The receptionist was a man and wore a crisp uniform. He seemed young enough to be in high school.
Dane looked to Zoe who was still staring at him. "The lady, here, found a skull stuck in a cavern. With a, uh, knife, ya know... in it."
"Fill out this form, and wait over there, please." The dude gestured to a row of glossy chairs along a far wall.
They sat in the chairs as he started filling in her information. He leaned into her as he asked the questions he didn't know the answers to. There weren't many of them. The smell of clean salt water filled his senses as he realized she wasn't pulling away from him. Her answers were methodical without a single word of sarcasm. It was all freaking him out. "Babe. Are you okay?" he asked as he wrote.
"I don't feel so good."
She didn't give him shit for calling her, 'Babe.' "Are you going to puke again?"
"I puked?" She looked around the ceiling like she was considering before she shook her head.
"Pass out?"
"No. I'm fine. Let's do this. I captain the party boat tonight."
"Yeah, right. I can read the headlines now. Woman with the Bends Crashes Sun Trips Touring Boat. I'll send Liam."
"It's his day off."
"Are you sure? He came out this morning when I saved your life."
"You did not—"
A man dressed in a button-down shirt creased with a holster came from the hallway on the right. "Good day. I'm Detective Osborne. Are you the two who have a crime to report?" He held out his hand. Dane took it and shook.
"We do, yes. I'm Dane Corbin and this is my—"
"Employee," Zoe interrupted stepping forward.
"Very well." The detective took the clipboard from Dane's hand. "Let's head upstairs, and we'll see what you've got." He glanced through the papers on the clipboard as he walked toward the elevators.
Dane rested his hand on the lower half of Zoe's back as they followed. The office was small with wooden mini-blinds that were pulled closed. Dane gestured for Zoe to sit, then he followed.
"So, it looks like you have..." Osborne trailed off as he read. He must have gotten to the knife through the skull part, because his eyes turned to them with brows lifted high.
Zoe pulled out her camera. "I was diving due north of the cavern just west of town." As she turned the camera on, Osborne stood and thumbed through a file cabinet. He returned with a map just as Zoe held out the camera. "I discovered a crevasse. In it, I found this."
Osborne eyed the photo, then opened an underwater map of the area. "Can you pinpoint the location? We can get a crew down there ASAP."
Her beautiful green eyes grew as she ran them over the detail of the map. Dane knew what she was thinking. She'd never moved on from the death of her brother. It was why she came to him more than a year ago, crying in his office. She wanted to sell her scuba diving business, merging it with his. She didn't want it anymore; didn't feel qualified to be in charge of divers... of people.
They'd never been close, he and Zoe. Grown up together, sure. Fooled around once in high school—which her sister would never let him live down. But the day Zoe came to him; he didn't even consider. He agreed to buy her out flat on the spot. Since then she'd been filling his mind with ridiculous thoughts and ideas. He followed her nearly every Saturday, keeping an eye on her as she dove searching for signs of her missing brother. Dane ought to be out on the Pacific, looking for his next haul of treasure. Yes. He knew what she was thinking. Her mind mesmerized the detail of Osborne's map.
No, he should be here.
She still led party pontoon expeditions and captained the snorkeling and bird sanctuary tour. Even manned the gift shop. But she hadn't taken out a single scuba group since the day her brother died. He let his lungs fill before he exhaled slowly.
"Can I take some pictures of this?" she asked but didn't wait for an answer.
The detective looked surprised as Zoe clicked off shots of his map. Dane wanted to tell him to get used to her forwardness. He had.
"Where did you say you found the skull?"
She pointed to an area near the bottom of the coastal wall.
Osborne dipped his head closer to the map as Zoe clicked off another dozen photos. "There's nothing here, miss."
It was the first smile he'd seen on her face since he pulled her out of the water. It knocked him off balance like it always did. She may have been gangly back when they were in high school, but her smile could always change the pull of gravity. He would never tell her that.
"It's a bit of an optical illusion down there, I'll admit. Send your guys. They'll find it." She started to get up.
Osborne placed a hand on her forearm. She l
ooked down at it, then up at him.
"I still need a statement, miss. And I'll... need that camera."
"What? I just took eighteen pictures."
"You'll get it back, but it looks like a person might have been killed. Maybe we should give him or her priority." Dane found himself impressed with the way Osborne put Zoe in her place without putting her in her place.
Dane waited patiently as she gave her statement. Three times. Then, they asked him about his involvement. Twice. They were there for over an hour. If this really was Liam's day off—and Zoe never seemed to be wrong about these things—Dane would be pushing his luck asking him to captain the party boat. Maybe he would just do it himself.
* * *
"Keep my camera?" Zoe moaned as she tilted Dane's bucket seat back as far as it would go. "They're going to have to keep my camera?"
"Murdered person." Dane was just rubbing it in, she knew. He plugged in his Smartphone and started up his reggae playlist.
It's not like she didn't care about the dead person. She reported it, didn't she? Twice. "I just don't see why they couldn't upload the pictures and give me my camera back."
As he drove, she turned her eyes to the sky. There was nothing quite like a clear, blue Florida sky. The island breeze cleared her thoughts. She let her lungs suck in the air and her eyelids drop. The scenario reminded her of Seth. He was ten years older and generally the one in charge of driving her and her sisters around the island until he was old enough to move away and go to college.
Her parents loved them dearly. She knew this. But the minute each of them turned eighteen, their bedrooms suddenly turned into offices and craft rooms. Either go to college or get a job. 'It's your choice,' her mother would say with a warm smile. The corners of Zoe's mouth lifted as she dozed off.
In her half-conscious state, turtles drifted near her in the sea grasses. Seth tapped her on the shoulder, then jabbed a pointed finger at a new cavern he'd discovered.