Tony paused. He grunted and walked towards the hallway. The agents fell into a tactical position; Jimmy followed Tony, a few steps behind, to his left. Rick took a position at the head of the hallway, alert, ready to draw his firearm, defensive. It was an exercise they’d done many times, and it came naturally to them. When Rick heard Jimmy ask Tony to sit, he moved to the doorway and remained in a defensive posture and watched.
“Tell me, Tony, are you restricted from looking at porn?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And if I look at your internet history,” he pointed to the small laptop sitting on a desk, “I won’t find anything disturbing. Will I?”
“No sir.”
“Are you even allowed on the internet? Tony?” Rick interjected.
“For work and church related things. Yeah. That and I can email family members. My lawyer got me that. I’m clean. I swear.”
“We have some time to kill. I’m going look. I didn’t get my IT training for nothing,” Jimmy said. He smiled and winked at Rick. He looked back at Tony and spoke in a cop voice. “You can see I’m Indian. Inside, you white guys call us Red Dots. You can fucking bet your life I’m a whiz at computers. Give me something from the street, and I’ll get out of your life.”
“I’ve never been a snitch.”
“But you’re a Christian. Do the right thing.”
“I don’t know anything. God’s honest truth. My computer is clean. Go ahead and knock yourself out.”
“I can make it unclean. Don’t be smart with me.”
“I swear. I swear. I don’t know anything to give. But I have a guy. I can give you a guy.”
“Talk,” Rick said. He’d pulled out his notebook and a pen.
“Like I said, I go to a church group or two. One is a twelve step. I’m not supposed to talk about it. But...”
“Go on,” Jimmy encouraged. He’d sat down at the desk and was fiddling with the laptop.
“Okay. So, this guy. He’s pale white. Tall. Skinny. Red hair, kind of like a carrot. Goes by Chuck, but I don’t know if that’s his real name. He was talking in the meeting the other day, and he talked about this other meeting he goes to. He didn’t say, but I knew he was talking ‘bout SA. You know? The Twelve Steps for sex addicts. I’ve never been, but I’ve heard a few guys talk about it. It’s a tough way to go. No sex. Nothing. Anyway, this guy, Chuck. He was talking about how he’d gone to this other meeting for help because he’d got into some real bad shit with another man. He claimed he’d tried to get his friend to come to a meeting, but his friend wasn’t interested in no conversion experience. So, anyway, that’s all I know. I remembered it because it happened the week that first girl was in the paper. And, I’ve been on the inside a long time. I can see when a man is a real bad man, just like I knew that poor woman was a drug addict. I can see it in people’s eyes. This Chuck. He’s not a safe man. I can tell you that. It’s all I know.”
...................
Rick and Jimmy left El Cajon and headed towards La Mesa. Rick drove, and Jimmy called Detective Turner.
“Turner.”
“Detective. It’s Jimmy Tamboli.”
“Hey, how’s the footwork going?”
“We got a lead out of a guy. Nothing hot, but something to follow up. I’ll post our report this afternoon, but I wanted to know if the description hit your memory banks. Tall pasty redhead goes by the name of Chuck. Frequents twelve step meetings. Our guy this morning says he was yapping about something big the week of the McCormick case hitting the news. Anything ring a bell?”
“Yeah, something. Fuck. I can’t recall the name. I’ll have to do some digging when I’m back at my desk. I’ll file it and let you know.”
Everything in a joint task force was filed into one central system, coded, and prioritized. Daily updates were sent out in emails. Everyone was expected to keep up, but the truth of the matter was that the internet and computers made data so easy to manage that sometimes the sheer volume of information became a handicap.
Ted Bundy had been named among the thousands of men that had come in as tips to the task force working his case many years ago, well before he became an official suspect. It was the nature of the beast. No bit of information was too unimportant to dismiss, yet all the information taken as a whole was like looking for a white object sitting on a snow bank.
“Our next stop?” Jimmy asked.
“Up to the left. Another parolee. You want me to stay on point, Tam?”
“You got it.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
There were plenty of fishes in the pond, yet i fell in love with a crocodile.
~ Anjum Choudary
Men exaggerate about the past. Women about the future.
~ Jessica Mills
...................
Drew was waiting outside with her overnight bag when Kyle showed up. He hugged her, took her bag, and told her that the weather report was looking fantastic.
“We’ll have smooth sailing all the way to Catalina. It’s going to be a great weekend. I’ve missed you.”
“We saw each other two nights ago,” she said.
“I know, but I’m getting attached to you.”
Drew smiled and winked.
Once they had motored out of the harbor, Drew helped with the sails. She had been studying, she read books and watched YouTube instructional videos. Kyle had given her hands-on lessons each time they were on board, and she was becoming proficient and knowledgeable with the basics.
“I’m becoming a sailor,” she grinned.
“Indeed. First mate material.”
“Fuck that. Nothing less than captain. Do I look like the kind of girl that likes to come in second?”
Kyle laughed.
“It takes years of experience to become capable of being a real captain. I mean someone who is capable of sailing, navigating, troubleshooting, fixing things, and being able to think clearly in challenging and dangerous situations. I thought I knew enough when I was in my teens. My father disabused me of that notion.”
He became reflective.
“What’s wrong?” Drew asked.
“Oh, just a bad memory. It was the summer before my senior year of high school, and I thought I could handle myself on a sailboat without any help. Well, normally, I could do okay. But this particular time I had a fight with my dad about something. Anyway, I went out late; the weather was shitty. I got into trouble and panicked. It’s an old wound. I was young and naive, and my dad, well, he wasn’t exactly a beacon of fatherhood, and I think he sort of wanted me to fail. I think he resented the idea that I thought I was a better man than he was. Or something like that. We should change the subject.”
“Okay. My dad’s a fuck himself. I don’t know; I think the universe gives some of us shitty parents so that we can be molded into either superheroes or villains. It seems like a formula. If you have a particularly vile father, you either end up a saint or in prison.”
“God, that’s sadly true. Enough of that. If you want to become a good captain, a capable sailor, you can. You’re already ahead of the game. But nothing will replace sea time. Experience. That’s what it takes. A lot of boredom, sometimes, I mean on long trips. Punctuated with terror, I believe the quote is. I read that somewhere. Most of my trips are short, so boredom is rarely an issue. Like I said, it’s like camping on the ocean.”
Drew wasn’t sure how serious she wanted to get into sailing, but she didn’t mention her doubts. It was fun being on the water; she wanted to enjoy the weekend, and get in a few hours of sunbathing. Her classes were only going to get harder, and the time she’d be required to devote to research, writing papers, and studying would only grow longer. At this moment, however, she wanted to enjoy the present without any thoughts or anxiety about the future.
“Dolphins,” he said. He pointed off the starboard side.
Drew watched them. So free. So beautiful. She wondered what it would be like to live each day completely free without any worries. A l
ife of swimming, eating, sleeping, and playing in the sea?
I’d probably get bored and start looking for sharks.
Kyle showed Drew a short, thick fishing pole with a feathered lure attached to the line. He spooled it out behind the boat. “We may catch a mahi or perhaps an albacore. You ever catch a tuna?”
“No,” she answered. “I’d like to.”
“If we hook up, you take the pole. I’ll walk you through it.”
“I’m pretty sure we hooked up already, and as for taking the pole...”
“I meant...” Kyle laughed and set the reel. “Let me tell you a fish story.”
“Okay, let’s hear it.”
“When I turned fourteen my dad bought me a ticket on a small charter fishing boat. It was an odd birthday present because he didn’t go with me. I was on a boat with a group of strange men, a pair of out-of-town tourists, and some lawyers from L.A. We had good weather and everyone was in a great mood. Hours later, no fish. We cruised around, and the men started drinking. I wasn’t a stranger to being around drunk men, but something about that day... They started talking about their first times. Since I was fourteen, naturally the subject of my virginity came up. There was a lot of teasing and joking around.
“I didn’t want to discuss my sex life, ha-ha, with a bunch of strangers. Hell, I was fourteen so I ignored them, but that only made them tease me more. As we were getting near the end of the day, we finally hit a fish. The poles had been rotated so each pole got assigned to a different fisherman each hour, and sure enough, it was my pole that had the fish. They helped me into the angler’s chair, and I started fighting this monster. It broke the surface, a huge bull mahi, and everyone cheered. It was the only hook-up we’d had, so I was under a lot of pressure. They weren’t going to let me live down any mistakes.
“We got the fish in close to the boat, and I was doing my best to follow the instructions of the deck hand. Somebody said it might be a world record fish for someone my age. It was a massive fish to me, anyway, even if it wasn’t a record. I’d never caught anything that big before, not even close. I didn’t realize that they were probably just teasing me about being a world record. One of the lawyers said that I had to land it myself to qualify for the world record books. All this talk made me more nervous. I was getting advice and chatter in my ears from both sides. They said things like don’t fuck up and keep the rod up and all that yakking only made it worse. And I really wanted to land it, too. By myself. Badly. It was my birthday, and I was already imagining my dad being impressed with such a great fish. Then, as the deck hand was reaching out to grab the leader and set the gaff, something happened. Something broke. Everyone groaned. I was horrified.
“I set the pole down and walked to the railing. That fucking fish was still there. It had fought for a long time and was stunned and exhausted. I didn’t think for a second, I jumped into the water, and landed on its back.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Nope. Honest to God. I jumped right on top of that fish. I had fought so hard that I wasn’t about to let it get away.”
“So you still caught it?”
Kyle laughed. “Nope.”
He told her the rest of the story while grabbing them each another beer.
“I did land right on top of the fish, but the same second I hit the water and reached out to grab it, it was gone. It took off faster than a teenager does when they see dad pull out the lawn mower on a Saturday morning. I was cold, wet, and upset about losing the fish, and then I had to listen to the captain lecture me about boat safety. It was humiliating; I don’t like losing what’s mine.”
“What did your dad think?”
“God. He called me a fucking liar. But, on the other hand, he complimented my imagination. He said it was one of the best bullshit fish stories he’d ever heard. Then he laughed and told me to get him another beer. We never discussed it again.”
Drew didn’t particularly like thinking about fishing stories in her own life. It made her think of her old friend Marc Chase, who was going to teach her to fly fish before he was killed by a political thug working for a congressman. He had tried to kill her too, but she’d fought back. He drowned. She escaped.
She had told Kyle her story, her allegations, and things that hadn’t made the press accounts. Somewhere up in those mountains was the body of the man that had claimed he worked for Congressman Boyd. Boyd had never been linked officially to the death of Marc Chase, either. That had been deemed an accident. Drew knew better. Boyd had lost his political power, but he didn’t face criminal charges over anything that had happened. Drew was still harboring resentment about that, but she tried to put it out of her mind.
Even though Drew and Kyle had talked about what had happened, they hadn’t ever discussed the story intimately. He hadn’t asked many questions, and she didn’t want to dwell on the past. The one thing that still bothered her was the fact that Boyd was never going to pay for what he’d done.
Drew sipped her beer and made a conscious effort to put thoughts of the past out of her head. She enjoyed Kyle’s company, and she wanted to have a great weekend without stirring up old emotions.
The sun approached the horizon, and the sky changed colors. Kyle opened a bottle of champagne. He filled two glasses.
“A toast to us,” he said. He lifted his glass.
Drew hesitated. She looked him in the eye.
“Is there an us?”
Kyle kept his glass raised.
“Would you be my girlfriend, Drew? I don’t want to see anyone else.”
Drew smiled, raised her glass to tap his, and they drank.
He put his arms around her.
“Isn’t it beautiful out here?” Kyle asked.
She looked out over the water. The ocean was smooth, and the low rolling waves were gentle. They barely moved the sailboat. The sun was near the horizon, and the sky was a brilliant pink, very romantic, almost too perfect. Drew wondered if she was falling in love. She loved being with Kyle. He was a good man, intelligent, witty, and fun to be with. He was handsome and well respected in his field at the University. He was older than her, but not by much. He had an ex-wife. Correction, a soon to be ex-wife, but no children. It didn’t seem like he had any serious baggage. Drew wasn’t sure if her feelings were the beginning of love or only a strong crush. Those categories were hard for her to separate and they often overlapped and changed.
“It is beautiful out here. I feel so free and happy on the water with you.” Drew looked into his eyes. “Yes,” she said.
“Yes, you’ll be my girlfriend?”
“Yes. I don’t want to see anyone else.”
The sun dropped, and the sky went dark. They ate dinner in the galley. Drew put away dishes while Kyle showered, then she showered, and climbed into bed with him. She was naked, but he was in a tee shirt and shorts.
“You’re overdressed,” she said.
“I’ll fix that.”
He took off his clothes.
Kyle climbed on top of Drew and plunged himself into her. Drew winced to herself. As he started thrusting, faster and harder, she realized that she’d ceased to exist to him. He grunted, but he did not speak. In the darkness, she tried to make eye contact with him, but his face was turned. His breathing increased, and she felt him release inside of her. He rolled off of her and went into the head.
She could hear the water running. He returned and got dressed again. He got into bed, rolled over with his back to her, and fell asleep.
Drew stared at the ceiling. What the fuck just happened?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Friends don't let friends get killed by serial killers.
~ Darynda Jones
Uncommitted sex is like going to Disneyland. I love amusement parks but don’t lead me to believe we are going on a road trip if your intention is to take me on a roller coaster.
~ Drew Stirling
...................
Drew drug herself out of bed on Monday morning and r
ealized she was out of coffee. Fuck. She’d needed groceries for most of the week, but she’d been too busy. A weekend at sea had put her behind on all her chores, and some of her school work.
She dressed and left early. Once on campus, she had time to get coffee and a bagel. When her parents had visited her, during her first month, her father had been fascinated with all the food choices available in the Price Center on campus.
“You have burger places and vegan places?” He’d said while shaking his head. “When I was in school, I got by on noodles, peanut butter sandwiches, and if I was lucky, a hot meal on a Sunday night.”
“Yes, dad. I know. You probably walked barefoot to class in the snow, too,” Drew had responded. Her mother laughed, her father frowned, but they’d had a nice lunch together that day. It’s funny how time really does heal some wounds.
Well, they did bring me into this world. Drew licked cream cheese off of her fingers and overheard a group of students talking about a serial killer.
“Excuse me?” she asked them. “Did you guys say there was a serial killer loose? They know this now?”
“The press is speculating,” one of the students said. He spoke matter-of-factly, as if the speculation part was a case of being too cautious, and not because nobody actually knew anything.
“I’m sure it’s a serial killer,” another student said. “It’s pretty obvious the authorities have more information than they’re letting out. The two girls are like sisters. And they look like—”
The student stopped and stared at Drew. The others followed her eyes and her train of thought, but nobody said anything.
“It’s okay,” Drew said breaking the awkward silence. “I know I look similar to them. I’ve seen the pictures. But have the papers said anything about the cops finding—you know—any bodies?”
“No,” several of them said at once.
“So it’s just speculation at this point?” Drew asked. She looked at the first student, the one that seemed to think that the speculation was just a formality.
Undressed At Sea: A Psychological Thriller (Drew Stirling Book 2) Page 9