She debated with herself because there was nothing left to do, short of suicide. Was it really suicide, she wondered, if death was imminent?
Maybe she was wrong about God and the afterlife?
She considered letting go and sinking.
But she wasn’t in pain. The occasional light sleep brought dreams. Some of them were good dreams. She’d dreamt of Boo. She’d dreamt of her childhood. It wasn’t all bad. She wished she could tell her mother that she was sorry and that she realized that her challenges had made her mothering of Drew less than she’d probably dreamt of when she was a child herself.
She decided to forgive her father. He’d had a father, too. That was enough of an explanation for why he was how he was. Who he was. She didn’t want to die with any hate or regret or sadness.
She decided life was best remembered as a series of positive events. She decided to start with the earliest good memories she had and work her way up to today. Today was her last day, this hour was her last hour. She decided to make it meaningful.
CHAPTER THIRTY
What would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark? It would be like sleep without dreams.
~ Werner Herzog
I sometimes get carried away trying to explain the finer points of sailing to my son. I need to be reminded sometimes, maybe often, that trying to explain to a nine-year-old that Rhumb lines cutting meridians at oblique angles are loxodromic curves which spiral towards the poles is probably too much. Like trying to explain NASCAR to my wife.
~ Peter Hall
...................
Danny Hall lived in Dana Point, a coastal town in Orange County, California. He loved to sail. Technically his first sailing adventures were in utero. As an air breather, he’d been snapped into a car seat and attached to his parent’s Hunter 30 when he was two months old.
He had confidently steered a dingy in the harbor by himself before he could ride a bike.
At nine years old he was almost as helpful and competent as the adult members of his dad’s crew as they raced towards San Diego’s Mission Bay.
The Sixth Annual Save the Seas for Kids regatta was more of a charity and social outreach event than a real race, but the crews were still serious about performing well. Winning the Dana Point Harbor to Mission Bay race was everyone’s goal, and winning was not only fun, it gave a year’s worth of bragging rights, but even those crews that came in last, however, seemed to have a good time, and many valuable lessons are learned in losing.
The race coordinators stressed that the safety of every crew member was the priority of the race. Safety was especially important because each sailboat was required to have at least one child between eight and sixteen as a crew member. It was, after all, a charity to raise money and awareness so that future generations would be able to enjoy the ocean.
It was a perfect day for sailing, the wind was strong, but there weren’t storms or rain expected. The waves were long and rolling, and the chop was mild.
This was Danny’s second race. Last year they’d come in eleventh place, and this year, his dad said they’d win. Or at the very least they’d improve over last year’s performance.
“But more important than winning, we are going to be safe and have fun, okay?” his dad had asked him that morning.
“Yes, captain,” Danny had answered. Going sailing was the only time he called his dad something other than dad, and it made him feel like a grown-up.
“But I do want to win, too,” his father said. “We’ll give it our best try.” He rubbed Danny’s head and messed up his hair.
Danny’s mother had crewed last year. This year she was overwhelmed, her other child had the flu, so she’d excused herself. That meant the crew was all male this year: Danny, his father, his uncle, an older cousin, and a family friend. Five crew was enough to ensure that nobody would be overwhelmed, but it still meant that to be competitive, everyone had to play a part.
Danny attempted to figure out what position they were in and when the next jibe should be. He wanted to understand the strategies of yacht racing, but even experienced adults were sometimes confused by the finer points of competitive sailing.
“What place are we in dad? It looks like only three boats beating us!”
“It’s hard to say. Maybe fourth or fifth place is right, but we might find ourselves in the lead if our decision to hold off on that last jibe was a good one.”
“You think there’s a better current out here?”
“Maybe.”
“Yeah, I think so too.”
They held their course for another half an hour. They were going farther out to sea than most of the other boats, but Peter Hall had a feeling. Once he’d decided they’d gone far enough, he yelled to the crew, “Ready to jibe!”
“Ready!” Danny shouted with the rest of the crew.
“Bearing away!”
“Jibe-ho!”
The wind remained steady. Danny was delighted that they seemed to be using a good strategy, even if he wasn’t totally sure what exactly it was. He knew that besides the wind, the ocean itself had currents that were just like rivers, except they were flowing in the middle of the ocean instead of in the middle of the land. One way, he knew, to find the currents, was to watch for floating debris, color changes in the water, and seabirds that hunted along the edge of currents because the temperature changes attracted bait fish.
“Are we holding this course for a while, Dad?”
“I think so, son. Do you need to drink some more water? You remember what your mom said about staying hydrated?”
“Yes, Dad.”
Danny went below and drank as his mother had instructed. He picked up his father’s binoculars. He wanted to see if they’d made up any headway on the other boats or if he could find the edge of a current. He’d also check for dolphins. He put the binoculars around his neck, fixed his hat, and went topside.
“Danny, did you ask anyone else if they wanted a water?”
“Oh...”
After he’d run to get water bottles for the rest of the crew (a job he knew was his, but often forgot about) he finally put the binoculars to his eyes. He scanned the ocean looking for other sailboats, dolphins, whales, shark fins, or anything else that might jump out of his imagination into his field of view.
What he saw looked like a person.
“DAD!” Danny shouted but kept the binoculars to his face.
“What son? I’m busy.”
“DAD! DAD! It’s a mermaid!”
He pointed in the direction of the mermaid and kept the binoculars to his face.
His father walked to him and put his hand on his shoulder.
“I don’t see anything, Danny. Look, I’m really busy looking at charts. Why don’t you come over and I’ll try to explain to you what I’m looking at. You could learn something.”
“But Dad, I think she needs help.”
“Let me see those,” his father said. He took the binoculars from Danny and looked in the direction he’d been pointing.
Danny watched his dad scan the area he’d been pointing towards. He knew what he saw. But he was also accustomed to being wrong. He was sure he’d seen a woman, but sailors have often been tricked by the ocean. He’d watched television shows about mermaids, sea monsters, the Kraken, giant boat-destroying whales, and pirates. He was about to ask for the binoculars, but his dad started shouting to the crew.
“Man overboard! Man overboard! Frank! Holy shit. Sorry, son. Holy Smokes. It’s a woman. Hurry up, men. Somebody grab a life preserver.”
Danny watched the crew go crazy.
“Somebody needs to call the Coast Guard.”
“I’m on it.”
“Are you sure there’s a person out there?”
“Yes, I’m sure. It’s a kid, a young girl. She’s holding on to something. I can’t tell if she’s even breathing. Just move, NOW!”
All the adults seemed to know what to do. Danny didn’t want to get in the way, so he stood bac
k and watched the commotion. When they approached the floating girl, Danny realized she was naked. He blushed.
“Danny, go below and get as many towels as you can carry. Bring a blanket. Two, if you can carry them. Hurry.”
Danny obeyed. He was worried about the girl, and his anxiety caused him to forget the blankets at first, but he remembered them before going topside. He had his chin on top of the pile he was carrying and went as quickly as he could, only tripping twice.
When he returned to the deck, he saw that his father had put on a bright orange life jacket and was floating in the water near the girl.
Danny couldn’t tell if the girl was alive. He began shaking. Anxiety and fear flooded his mind; he didn’t want to see a dead person. The adults were completely focused on saving the girl, and so he felt she must be alive. He stared at her nakedness as his father helped the other men retrieve her from the water. He felt shame and curiosity.
She didn’t seem dead, but then again, Danny didn’t know what a dead person was supposed to look like. She was very pretty. No wonder he’d thought she was a mermaid.
She coughed.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
“Give me those towels and go get another bottle of water,” his uncle shouted at him.
He obeyed like a preprogrammed robot. When he went below, he felt a sense of relief. In her presence, he didn’t know where to land his eyes. He’d forgotten why he’d gone below. He was about to go back and ask, taking the verbal ribbing he’d get the best he could, when the single word, water, formed in his mind.
When he returned with a bottle of water, the girl was shaking uncontrollably.
She was trying to speak, but her words were coming out funny.
Maybe she’d floated all the way from Brazil or China?
She sat up, drank, and was able to mumble a discernible thank you.
So, she must be from America, after all.
One of the men asked her if she had the strength to go below to get out of the sun.
She said, “I think so.” But then she started crying again.
He realized she wasn’t a girl, but a woman. A small woman, but not a child. Danny turned away. Her emotional state and nakedness were too embarrassing for him to look at. He felt he’d already seen too much. His father and uncle wrapped her in a blanket and carried her out of the sun. Danny felt an enormous sense of relief.
Ten minutes later his father returned topside and hugged him.
“You’re a good man, son.”
“Is she going to be okay?” he asked.
“Yes, I think so. The Coast Guard is sending out a rescue helicopter. She’s been in the water for a long time, but I think she’s going to be okay. They’ll get her to a hospital as soon as humanly possible.”
“Dad, are we done racing?”
“Yes, son,” his dad answered. “We’re heading back to Dana Point. You did good. You and your mermaid.” His father rubbed his head and knocked off his hat. “You saved her life.”
Danny smiled, filled with pride. He’d never saved a person’s life before.
“You’re a hero,” his older cousin acknowledged. He rubbed his head, too. It was the first time he’d treated him like a grown-up.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Many times little or no physical evidence is found to corroborate the victim's statement. Thus, the criminal justice system must rely on the skills of the police officers handling the investigation to provide the necessary information to successfully prosecute the offender. Often, it comes down to the victim's statement of what took place versus the offender's denial.
~ Guidelines for Sexual Assault Investigation, The Commission on Peace Officer Standards and Training,
State of California
These days, revenge is best left to the lawyers. Sometimes I think we’re the worst for it.
~ Detective Jerry Turner
...................
Drew detested hospitals. Visitors could escape, staff could clock out, but a patient was trapped like a zoo animal. In a room by herself, it was too quiet, and she couldn’t tell whether it was morning or evening, only that it wasn’t night. A window allowed the overcast sky to cast light into the room, but she couldn’t tell how low, or high, the sun was. The television was off. She couldn’t hear any human sounds. No voices, not even equipment noises, broke the envelope of silence that surrounded her like interlaced tree branches in a deep, dark wood.
Perhaps she’d entered a dystopian nightmare?
The smells and the oppressive atmosphere of hospitals always made her anxious, but at the moment she felt a dream-like state of peace. Usually the irony of sterility and disease being inextricably coupled grated on her senses whenever she was inside a medical building, but at the moment she felt light. Maybe she had died? Was this the waiting room to heaven? Or Hell? Or Purgatory?
She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, the extent of her injuries, or if she’d spoken to anyone. She struggled to remember anything. She knew her name. That was enough for the moment.
She felt numbness in her extremities. Drugs in her system. Her brain was groggy, and she was still tired. She toyed with the IV tubing in her arm.
She realized she’d probably be falling asleep again, so she scanned the room for anything recognizable. There was a mixed bouquet of flowers in a vase. An unopened card on her bedside table. Her name was written across the front of the card, Drew. Ben’s handwriting. Memories of herself came back. She sat up.
Ben had been thinking ahead because he’d remembered to write down his cell phone number.
She called him.
“Are you okay?” he asked in lieu of saying hello.
“I don’t know. What day is it?”
“It’s Tuesday morning. You’ve been sedated.”
“Fuck. Can you bring me some clothes?”
“Yes. Of course. I’ll get there as soon as I can. I’ve been worried about you. What happened?
“I... I need to go. I’ll explain when you get here.”
Drew pushed the nurse call button.
A woman’s voice came over the intercom. “I’ll be right in.”
A nurse entered the room a few minutes later.
“You’re awake. How are you feeling?”
“I’m achy and tired.”
“You’ve been sedated. When you first came in you were delirious. You were panicking, and the doctor felt you might hurt yourself. I’ll let her know you’re awake.”
“What about the police?”
“The police? No, there haven’t been any police here. Do you need the police, dear?”
“The rape.”
“Rape? Oh my God, dear. You poor thing. You were found floating in the middle of the ocean. Nobody has had a clue about how you got there.”
Drew tensed, and she looked out the window at the sky. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked back to the nurse. “I was raped. Professor Mills. Ryan Mills. Oh, God. I need to talk to the police. Right away.”
Then she broke down and wept bitterly until she couldn’t breathe and the nurse had to call for help.
...................
Two uniformed San Diego police officers showed up about thirty minutes later. They were polite, used small words, and spoke slowly as if Drew was a child.
She started explaining herself when one of the cops interrupted her.
“Ma’am, we needed to make sure that no immediate danger existed and verify that you needed to talk with a detective, which you do. A detective will be assigned. Is there anything I can do for you at the moment? Do you need a family member contacted?”
“Ben will be here soon. He’ll handle all that. He’s my only family, really. He’ll know what to do.” She cried softly, closed her eyes, and squeezed out her tears.
...................
Someone knocked and then walked into the room.
He introduced himself to Drew as the detective assigned to her case. “Detective Jerry Turner, but you ca
n call me Jerry.”
He was an average looking middle-aged white guy with dark hair and tanned skin. His face was friendly, and his tone conveyed warmth. Drew listened to him as he explained his role on the task force that had been working on the cases of the missing young women.
He turned to face the cops, who had been standing silently in the room.
“No mention of this to anyone. No press. No other cops. Nobody. Understood?”
Turner escorted them out of the room, returned after a minute, and shut the door.
“Are you comfortable, ma’am?”
“As good as I can be. I guess. Yes, I’m fine. What did you say your name was again?”
“I’m Detective Turner, but you can call me Jerry?”
“Sure. If you promise not to call me ma’am.”
“Deal.”
“For starters, I’d like to go over a few procedural details. I’d usually have my partner here, but I didn’t think we needed to overwhelm you with two strange men in the room asking you personal questions. I understand this whole situation is extremely traumatic, and you’re understandably going to be overwhelmed, upset, maybe feeling a bit depressed and uncertain about what’s going to happen. There’s no right or wrong way to feel. Feelings are yours alone. You know what I mean?”
“Yes. I get that. I feel pissed, mostly.”
“That’s a fair thing to feel. I’m sure you’ve put together already that this is going to be a big case and will end up on the news. I can’t stop the media, but I’m going to do everything in my power to slow it down on this so we can do our jobs.
“Next thing I want to bring up, I’m here with you alone. By law, you can have an advocate here, a family member, a member of the clergy, a therapist, someone for support. You can also request a female officer to join me during interviews. What I’d like to request, at least for the moment, is that we start with the basics right now, so I can get the ball rolling with other members of the task force. If we can start at the beginning with some details, and gauge how you feel, we can stop at any time if you feel you need some support. I know this will be hard and repetitive, but as you’ve figured out by now, you’ve been the victim of someone who is now a suspect in the disappearance of two other women. You all have the same features and, frankly, you could all be cousins. Or even sisters. It’s a little spooky. But, the fortunate thing is you’re alive, and we can stop this from happening to anyone else. For the record, I’ve already contacted the FBI liaison. I suspect someone will be here shortly. I know this is hard, but the more we nail down details, and the sooner, the better.”
Undressed At Sea: A Psychological Thriller (Drew Stirling Book 2) Page 19