“What about Bella Morris?”
Delroy’s head moved slowly from side to side.
“She’s dead. I was just told they pulled her body from the water not more than thirty minutes ago.”
Adele felt her legs grow weak and her face go numb. Again, she noted the spot of grime on Decklan’s hand, inhaled another breath of fuel-drenched air, and wondered if it was possible a man as effortlessly charming as Decklan Stone could actually be capable of murder.
No, it doesn’t make any sense. Why would he hurt Bella?
Adele recalled how angry Decklan was when he found out she had been speaking with others about him.
He very well could have seen me speaking with Bella, too.
“Now what in the hell is that all about?”
Both Decklan and Adele followed Delroy’s gaze toward the marina’s entrance. Three police cruisers with lights flashing had parked in the middle of the entrance and four members of the San Juan County Sheriff’s Office were making their way down the dock. The tallest of the four stopped and then pointed directly to where Adele, Decklan and Delroy stood. Delroy readjusted the hat and stared back at the four law enforcement officers with significantly increased interest.
“It would appear one or all of us are the focus of their attention. Normally I love to see a man in uniform, but something tells me this isn’t going to be one of those times.”
As the four armed men drew closer, Adele could see that three were deputies while the oldest, according to his badge, was the county sheriff. It was the sheriff who stopped himself and his men some twenty feet from Delroy’s boat and then pointed at Decklan.
“Are you Mr. Decklan Stone?”
The right hands of the three deputies hovered over their hip-holstered revolvers as they awaited Decklan’s answer.
Decklan took a half step forward with his hands at his side. Adele looked up at the author’s face and noted how his expression was a mix of confusion and uncertain curiosity. There was no sign of fear in him.
“Yes, now would you mind telling me what this is about?”
“Mr. Stone, I am Sheriff Leroy Benson of the San Juan County Sheriffs Department.”
Decklan gave a short half-nod to the fifty-two-year-old sheriff. Benson was a lifelong resident of the islands, a man of average height and build with thinning grey hair and a large bushy mustache that sat watch over a thin-lipped mouth.
“I’ve heard of you. Now why are you here asking who I am, Sheriff Benson?”
The deputies’ hands rested directly over their weapons. Adele could tell the men were on edge and the tallest of them appeared to want Decklan to cause them trouble and thus give them reason to retaliate.
“I’d prefer we discuss this back at the station, Mr. Stone.”
Decklan rose to his full height, straightened his shoulders, and casually folded his arms across his chest. He still appeared more curious than fearful over having four armed men standing directly in front of him.
“Are you asking me to come with you, or ordering me to do so?”
The sheriff’s eye’s flashed his annoyance.
“I would rather this be done with as little fuss as possible, Mr. Stone.”
Adele looked beyond the four law-enforcement officers and saw a small crowd had gathered at the marina entrance. A haughty-faced Tilda Ashland was among them.
Decklan’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like being told what to do.
“Is this something that requires my attorney to be present?”
Sheriff Benson shifted on his feet as his own hand lowered itself onto the butt of his sidearm.
“At this time we’re just hoping to ask you a few questions.”
Decklan gave the sheriff a tight, emotionless smile.
“Then go ahead and ask your questions now, Sheriff, because I would really like to know what this is about. In fact, I believe it’s my right to know.”
The sheriff glanced at his men, cleared his throat, and then nodded.
“OK, Mr. Stone, can you please tell me where you were earlier this morning?”
Decklan’s arms remained folded over his chest.
“I was in bed. I was out of bed. I was in the shower. I was having a cup of coffee. I was on my runabout and then over to Sucia…and now I’m here.”
The answer clearly made Sheriff Benson more suspicious as his eyes narrowed and his voice growled the next question.
“Did you hear about the explosion in Deer Harbor, Mr. Stone? The marina store, and the death of Bella Morris?”
Decklan nodded while staring directly into the sheriff’s eyes. His voice was a barely audible whisper.
“Yes, I did. Just now in fact. What does this have to do with me?”
Sheriff Benson took another step toward Decklan.
“We have a witness placing you at the Deer Harbor store conversing with the deceased less than thirty minutes before the explosion, Mr. Stone. And now by your own admission, you fled Deer Harbor by boat shortly after.”
Adele watched as Decklan showed the first visible signs of anger toward the law enforcement officers. Not fear, but anger. And then, even more interestingly, sadness. The officers were looking at Decklan as a murderer, and the writer was all too aware of their accusing stares. In their eyes he was a guilty man because he had already been guilty of that very thing for a very long time.
“I never said I fled. And I consider Bella Morris to be a friend, or at the very least, a good person who has always honored my desire for privacy. If you’re coming here suggests you think I had anything to do with her death, you are terribly misguided.”
The tallest of the three deputies pulled his weapon and proceeded to aim it at Decklan while the sheriff then issued a very clear and concise directive as to what Decklan was to do next.
“Mr. Stone, please place your hands behind your back and turn around.”
The other deputies pointed their weapons at Decklan as well.
“Are you arresting me, Sheriff?”
“What I am doing at this moment, Mr. Stone, is telling you to get your damn hands behind your back. NOW!”
The initially small crowd gathered at the marina entrance had since doubled in size. Many of the people were taking pictures, or videotaping Decklan’s worsening situation with the armed officers.
Decklan turned to Delroy Hicks.
“Delroy, I need you to contact Montel Simms in Seattle. He’s an attorney. Let him know what’s happened.”
Delroy’s eyes were wide as he nodded his head.
“Uh, yeah, Decklan. I’ll do it right away, of course.”
Decklan turned his attention to Adele and tried to give her a reassuring smile; though, his eyes held the strain of the moment within them. They weren’t so much the eyes of a guilty man, as those of a man being forced to confront the reality of what so many thought him to be. Namely, that he had murdered his wife, and thus, was likely to have murdered again.
“It would appear I’ve given you another very interesting chapter to your article, Ms. Plank. I hope you’re not offended by my saying I would rather it not be so.”
Adele stood silent and unmoving as Decklan was quickly handcuffed and led toward the marina entrance and the swelling cluster of onlookers. The sheriff walked in front of Decklan and yelled out at the crowd while motioning with his left hand.
“Clear the way! You slow us down and I’ll be arresting your ass too, so move it!”
The onlookers did as they were told with the exception of Tilda Ashland. She remained very close to the walkway leading away from the marina entrance. Her right arm pointed at Decklan as he passed by her. Tilda’s head fell back and her mouth opened wide as she unleashed a raspy cackle of laughter. The display was unnerving enough to the deputies that they hastily swerved to avoid the seemingly unhinged hotel owner.
Delroy shook his head in disgust.
“I do believe that woman has devolved into the most disturbed and unpleasant person I have ever known. Shame on her.”
“Do you think he actually had something to do with Bella’s death?”
Delroy didn’t say anything at first. Then he shrugged.
“At this point, I honestly don’t know. It certainly doesn’t look good that he chose this morning, of all mornings, to pay me an unannounced visit. And did you notice how dirty his hands were? That is very unlike Decklan.”
“Are you going to contact his lawyer?”
Delroy nodded.
“Yes, of course. I said I would. A man is nothing if not a man of his word.”
Both Adele and Delroy’s gaze returned to the marina entrance where Tilda’s shrieking laughter continued to waft across the resort. But for a few others, the crowd had quickly dispersed as life at Roche Harbor returned to whatever version of itself it considered normal. And then even Tilda went silent, abruptly turned, and made her way back into her hotel as Phillip followed close behind.
Adele cocked her head as she detected a noise that was both faraway, yet familiar to her. She turned around and saw the faint outline of a small skiff some two hundred yards from the dock heading out toward the channel that was the nautical path back to Deer Harbor from Roche Harbor.
It was Will Speaks.
Delroy looked from Adele to the quickly departing skiff and then back to Adele.
“Do you know that man?”
Adele nodded slowly as she continued to stare at the unmistakably lumpy form that was the son of the former San Juan County sheriff. She was already certain Will’s presence in Roche Harbor at the very same moment Decklan Stone was taken into custody in relation to an investigation into the death of Bella Morris by the same county sheriff’s office, was no mere coincidence.
And so too was Adele just as certain that two deaths in Deer Harbor, separated by some twenty-seven years, were somehow inexplicably connected.
“Yes, yes I do.”
Adele turned around and looked at Delroy Hicks who by then already sensed she was about to ask something of him.
“Yes, Ms. Plank, what would you like me to do for you?”
“I need to get back onto Orcas Island without anyone knowing, and I need to get there tonight.”
Delroy’s mouth broke out into a grin that by then had become all too familiar to Adele. He placed two fingers onto the brim of his fedora and tipped his hat at the young journalist.
“It would be my pleasure, Ms. Plank. Let’s plan to depart here shortly after nightfall. I believe we can simply use the boat Decklan left tied up at the end of the dock. The sheriff doesn’t seem too interested in it, which leads me to believe their taking Decklan into custody is bullshit, and they know it. If they really thought he had anything to do with what happened this morning in Deer Harbor, they would have secured Decklan’s boat as evidence. Or perhaps they’re just incompetent. Either way, I could give a damn.”
Adele looked down to where Decklan Stone’s small runabout sat unused and seemingly waiting to be given a new purpose. It was at that moment a chill ran through her as she realized she would be retracing the same final journey-by-dark-waters that had resulted in the death of Calista Stone.
13.
It had been dark for nearly two hours by the time Adele and Delroy quietly made their way to Decklan’s runabout. The wind began to pick up late that afternoon, and by evening, the water had turned into a washing machine of churning, white-capped waves.
“I fear this won’t be a comfortable ride, Ms. Plank.”
Adele pulled her hoodie over her head and nodded.
“I know, but you said taking a larger boat would increase our chances of being spotted by someone, right?”
It was Delroy’s turn to nod.
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Is it safe?”
Delroy shrugged.
“That’s a relative term in these conditions. Will we get there without sinking? Probably. It will be slow going, we’re sure to be soaked, but yes, we should survive. And you are certain the cove at Decklan’s island will provide enough cover to keep the boat hidden from view?”
Adele shivered as a blast of wind pushed her back onto the balls of her feet. The wooden docks groaned as the tips of the tall sailboat masts leaned from one side to the other.
“Yeah, you’ve never seen it?”
Delroy’s right hand reached up to push his hat down to prevent the wind from blowing it off his head.
“No, I’ve actually only been to Decklan’s home twice. Once for his house-warming party when he and Calista first moved in, and a second time shortly after Calista’s death. Why are you so intent on going back tonight?”
Adele’s jaw tightened as she considered the question.
“I’m not sure. I just feel I’ve missed something and that maybe Decklan’s house is the place to start looking.”
Both Adele and Delroy had spoken briefly with Decklan earlier that afternoon. The author’s Seattle attorney was out of the country and wouldn’t be available until later the following day and the San Juan County Sheriff’s Department appeared more than happy to keep Decklan sitting in a jail cell until that time.
Delroy stepped onto the small runabout and then extended a thin and slightly trembling right hand to assist Adele in doing the same. Adele wondered if the dying man was in fact up to the journey, especially given the storm conditions.
“Are you OK to do this, Mr. Hicks? We can wait until the weather gets better.”
Delroy scowled and then wagged a bony finger in front of Adele.
“Don’t you worry about me! This is the most alive I’ve felt in years! I’m a bit tired, but I’ll be just fine. And I’m sure Decklan keeps a bottle or two of very good wine at the house for us to crack open once we find our way safely there. Let’s just hope nobody from the sheriff’s department is already there keeping watch.”
The boat’s single outboard engine started on the first crank and could barely be heard idling over the sound of the wind. Delroy pointed to the two ropes keeping the craft secured to the dock.
“Go ahead and untie us and let’s be on our way.”
Adele did as requested, slipping the rope off of the dock cleats and then watching as the runabout drifted slowly away before Delroy put the motor in gear and bumped the idle up so as to allow the craft to begin pushing its way through the nearly two-foot chop that covered the entirety of the marina’s watery surface.
Though he didn’t say so out loud, Adele sensed Delroy was far more concerned with how much worse the conditions would be once they were in the main channel that separated Roche Harbor from Deer Harbor. He saw three lifejackets poking out from underneath the empty space in the runabout’s bow and reached down and grabbed one and then gave it to Adele.
“Put this on, just in case!”
Delroy had to shout to be heard. Though they were just a hundred yards from the dock, the wind’s volume had increased significantly. Adele nodded and then pointed to the other two lifejackets.
“What about you?”
Delroy nodded and then reached down and retrieved a lifejacket for himself as well just as an unusually large wave picked up the front of the runabout and then sent it crashing back down into the next wave’s trough as a spray of water washed over the vessel’s plastic windshield. By the time Delroy had taken the runabout out of the marina, the waves had increased to nearly three feet and felt to be pummeling the boat from all sides. He pushed the throttle lever forward with his right hand another half-inch to ensure he had enough power to break through the waves instead of merely being pushed around by them. Delroy then grabbed Adele and had her sit in the passenger seat directly behind the windshield while he crouched low in the driver’s seat hoping enough of the sea spray would be deflected to keep them somewhat dry.
After twenty minutes of struggling against the wind, current, and waves, the runabout entered the San Juan Channel. A darker mass nearly a mile away that served as the backdrop to the nighttime gloom indicated Jones Island was just ahead, and looming over Jones Island was
the much larger Orcas Island behind it.
Delroy’s eyes strained to see to his left and to his right to make certain no other vessels were in the area of his intended path across the channel. With decades of experience navigating these waters, Delroy Hicks knew the distance from his current location to the protected waters of Deer Harbor was just over five miles. He would slowly point the runabout south until he spotted the northern tip of Jones Island and then seek the more protected path that separated Jones Island from the shores of Orcas Island, known as Spring Passage.
Adele gripped the boat’s plastic console with both hands as she used her arms as shock absorbers to combat the repeated impact of the bow smashing into yet another wave. The absence of light made the experience that much more frightening. They had agreed to leave the runabout’s navigation lights off to ensure as much stealth as possible in case someone was monitoring the boat traffic into and out of Roche and Deer Harbors.
“Shit!”
Adele turned to her right and saw Delroy rapidly moving the throttle back and forth and then turning the ignition key on and off.
“What’s wrong?”
At the very same moment Adele spoke those words, an especially large wave hit the side of the runabout with enough force she was pressed against the left side of the hull.
“The motor died! We have no power!”
Adele felt the significance of those words cause her chest to tighten.
Uh-oh, we’re in some serious trouble out here.
Delroy stood up on unsteady legs and moved to the back of the boat and then turned on the flashlight feature of his cell phone. He bathed the outboard motor in LED light and then started to shake his head.
“It appears Decklan wasn’t lying about his fuel line problem! The same thing just happened to us!”
Adele crouched her way to Delroy’s right side and saw the cause of the stalled motor. The dark gray, high pressure fuel line had broken apart where Decklan had apparently done a temporary duct-tape repair. Delroy was an experienced enough boater to know that the fuel would quickly degrade such tape into a mushy mess, soon rendering the repair useless. He also knew that he should have checked the fuel line prior to leaving Roche Harbor. He silently cursed himself for failing to do so.
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