Missing Person

by Matt Lincoln

  The other sailors stepped out of Linda’s and Meg’s way and watched them curiously as they made their way down the dock, eyes drawn by the crisp lines of the Coast Guard uniform. Meg ignored them, following Linda’s lead as she walked with her eyes fixed up ahead and her shoulders very straight. Meg was used to the attention that came with the uniform. Civilians couldn’t help but wonder what she was up to, why she was there, and if there was about to be trouble. They would surreptitiously spy on her, hoping to catch a glimpse of some excitement.

  Slip thirty-four was at the back third of the dock, and the boat tied up there was nothing special to look at. It was a large white fishing vessel with a canvas cover over the control console and steering wheel, leaving plenty of room at the stern for people to sit and fish. “Carpe Diem” was written across the side in curling blue letters, and Meg thought it an absolutely awful pun.

  A person on board was seated behind the steering wheel as he fiddled with the controls. He wore all SPF clothing, the sleeves of his lightweight shirt rolled up to the elbows, and a wide-brimmed sailing hat hung down his back, partially covering his sunburned neck. His ears were a matching red color, and he scratched at them irritably. He had yet to notice Linda and Meg standing there.

  Linda cleared her throat. “Excuse me.”

  The man ducked his head to look up at them from under the red canvas cover. His eyes widened at the sight of their blue uniforms, and he hurriedly jumped down from his chair to step out into the open where he could see them more clearly.

  He didn’t look like some kind of human trafficking criminal, Meg thought as she studied him, her head cocked to the side. He looked like a dad with his brown boat shoes and exposed calves. There was some kind of tattoo by his ankle, but it was poorly done and badly maintained, and so the lines had blurred and bled into each other, leaving the whole thing a smudged blob.

  “What can I do for you…” he floundered for the right form of address, his brow creased, “... ma’am?”

  “Do you mind if we come aboard and ask you a few questions?” Linda asked, smiling down at the man with her hands clasped lightly behind her back. “I assure you, it’s nothing serious.”

  That was a lie, but it put the man at ease, and he relaxed, offering Linda a wide, white-toothed smile in return. “Sure, sure. Please, come aboard.”

  Linda stepped easily from the dock to the boat and slung her leg over the railing, immediately adjusting for the waves’ gentle bob. Meg followed suit once Linda had moved down into the alcove with the man. Though Meg had a lot of practice boarding boats, she still sometimes worried she’d catch a foot on a rope and trip, a mortifying faux pas for someone who spent so much time on the water.

  But she got aboard without a mishap, as she always did, and the three of them sat on worn cushions. The man still looked nervous, wringing his hands together in front of him as he looked back and forth between the two of them.

  “My name is CO Linda Reyes,” Linda began, giving the man another disarming smile. “And this is Lieutenant Meg Shoals. What’s your name?”

  “Warren Reed,” the man answered.

  “Is this your boat?” Linda asked, and Warren nodded. “How long have you had it?”

  “About three years.”

  “Who did you buy it from?”

  Warren shrugged. “Some guy. It was a Craigslist ad. We didn’t really exchange a lot of personal details.”

  “Do you know a man named Simon Ward?”

  Meg sat up a little straighter, scooting forward on her cushion, which kept trying to shoot right out from under her. This was the million-dollar question, and she watched Warren carefully, searching for signs that he was about to lie to them. She didn’t have formal training for that sort of thing, not like the MBLIS agents no doubt did, but she still thought herself pretty good at reading people.

  Warren’s brow furrowed, and he tilted his head to the side. “No, I don’t. Who is he?”

  Linda waved off the question. Obviously, they weren’t going to tell Warren who the man actually was. “No one, really. We’re looking for him in conjunction with some… minor crimes. He used to have ties to this boat. We thought it was as good a place as any to start.”

  “Crimes?” Warren repeated with rapidly widening eyes, completely bypassing the fact that Linda had said “minor crimes.” “What did he do?”

  Linda pretended like she didn’t hear the question. “You really don’t remember anything about who you bought the boat from? Any little detail would help. Where you bought it from, any distinguishing features on the seller, even how you paid for it.”

  Warren blinked at the topic shift, but he let the matter of who Simon Ward was drop with a shrug. Meg didn’t think he was lying about knowing the man. His eyes didn’t look shifty. He was sweating a bit, but that was from the humidity of the day, and he didn’t have any sort of tick to give him away. He’d relaxed after his initial shock at seeing two Coast Guard officers by his boat once he realized that he wasn’t in trouble.

  “Let me think,” he said and rubbed at his chin. “I bought the boat in Palm Springs. I live in Michigan. I drove it down here for a bit of a get-away. I’m renting this slip for the month. Sorry. I don’t know if you need to know all that. As for the seller, I don’t know. He was middle-aged. Normal. I think his name was John. He asked for cash and gave me the title for the boat. It was a pretty straightforward sale. Sorry if that’s not very helpful.”

  Cash. Damn. Meg didn’t know much about following the money, but she’d watched enough cop shows to know that you couldn’t trace cash.

  “That’s okay,” Linda said, but Meg could tell from the very slight slump in her shoulders that she was disappointed. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Reed. Sorry to eat into your day.”

  Warren shrugged, glancing up at the darkening sky. “That’s okay. Doesn’t look like I’m going to get out today, anyway.”

  “I suppose not. Stay dry.” Linda stood and held out her hand to Warren. He quickly rose and shook it, and then Linda and Meg disembarked, stepping smoothly over the railing and down onto the dock. Warren gave them a little wave goodbye, and Meg could feel his eyes on their backs as the two of them set off toward shore.

  “That was a bust,” Meg said once they were out of earshot of the fishing boat. She couldn’t quite keep the note of disappointment from her voice. She did not relish the idea of having to tell the MBLIS agents they’d come up empty.

  Linda hummed in agreement. “Do you believe him?” she asked.

  “I think so,” Meg said, and was immediately worried that she was wrong.

  “Me too,” Linda agreed. “Why don’t you call Agent Greyson and let him know? Maybe he’s got something else for us to look into.”

  Meg definitely didn’t want that job, but she didn’t argue. As they stepped off the dock and back onto solid land, a fat raindrop splattered against her cheek. She brushed it away with the back of her hand and tilted her head back to look at the sky. The clouds were thick and dark, and the very air had changed, charged with anticipation. The breath of wind across Meg’s face held the promise of the storm, and it made her sneeze as the hairs on the back of her neck pricked up.

  When they reached Linda’s Jeep, Meg pulled out her phone, and Linda passed her Agent Greyson’s business card. Meg dialed the number and waited while Linda started the car and reversed out of their parking spot before heading out to the street.

  “Who is this? This is not a good time,” Agent Greyson said by way of greeting. His voice sounded tense, strained.

  “This is Meg Shoals. I work with Linda Reyes?” Meg said a little hesitantly.

  Agent Greyson hesitated on the other line, and Meg thought she could hear the sounds of traffic in the background.

  “Oh,” he said finally. “Is it important? We’re kind of in the middle of something.”

  Meg opened her mouth to answer, but Agent Greyson was still speaking.

  “Actually, we could use your help. Could you meet us at
the Seabrook Harbor and Marina? In say, five minutes?”

  “Sure,” Meg said and tapped Linda’s shoulder to get her attention. “We’re nearby, actually. What’s going on?”

  “I’ll explain when you get there. Just hurry.” And he hung up on her.

  “What is it?” Linda asked as Meg dropped her phone into her lap.

  “They need our help,” Meg explained. “Agent Greyson wants us to meet them at the Seabrook Harbor and Marina. He didn’t say why.”

  “Good thing we’re close then.” Linda hauled on the wheel, guiding them into a tight U-turn through the intersection they’d just entered. The move was of questionable legality, but the traffic was light, and soon, they were speeding toward the Seabrook Harbor and whatever it was that MBLIS needed from them.

  11

  I chucked my phone into the cupholder between the two seats and returned my hand to the steering wheel just in time to take us through a turn, Lex’s fingers wrapped around the handle above her door as she braced herself against the speed.

  “Who was that?” she asked.

  “Meg Shoals—Linda Reyes’ XO,” I answered.

  “What did she want?”

  “I didn’t ask. I’m a little preoccupied right now.”

  I checked the clock on the dash. It took longer to get to the Seabrook Harbor and Marina than I would have liked, the traffic unexpectedly heavy around the MBLIS office. I didn’t want us to miss our window of opportunity. It might never come again.

  Barrett had called us at the office. Thankfully, he’d called me and not the marshal. A gray Subaru hatchback had been spotted at the Seabrook Harbor and Marina. There was no way of knowing if it was ours, but it wasn’t a lead that we could pass up.

  “I’m coming,” Rachel had demanded when Lex and I went into her office to tell her the news.

  I shook my head, though I knew it fell outside the bounds of our boss-agent relationship. But until we knew if Rachel would be able to control her emotions around the case, I didn’t want to bring her along; not to mention, I thought it would be suspicious if the three of us suddenly up and left the office. Marshal Graham was still taking up space in our conference room, and she was too smart not to notice our departure.

  “I need you to distract Graham,” I said to Rachel, trying to phrase it more as a suggestion than an order. “It’ll look odd if we all leave. You’re best suited to keep her here.”

  The smart thing to do would be to tell Graham about Barrett’s call, but we’d decided that this was our case, and there was no backing down now.

  “If Ward’s there,” Rachel began, and I shot a worried look toward her closed office door. It would muffle some sound, but not all of it, and we didn’t want Graham bursting in here, asking why we were shouting. Rachel noticed my glance and lowered her voice with a bit of effort. “If Ward’s there, I should be there. Malia will need me when we find her.”

  “Ward probably won’t be there,” Lex said. She crooked open the window blinds and peeked out to make sure Graham was still in the conference room. “This is more than likely nothing, but if we tip our hand to the marshal, we won’t have another chance to chase down a real lead. Rachel, please don’t fire me for saying this, but it’s partly true that you’re too close to this.”

  Rachel bristled behind her desk, and Lex gulped, quickly hurrying on. “Let us handle this one, and I promise that next time, you can bring down the fury. Don’t waste it on something that’s probably nothing.”

  Lex and I braced ourselves for Rachel’s answer. I leaned back in my chair while Lex pressed herself a little further into the wall.

  But Rachel sighed, leaning her elbows against her desk and letting her weight rest on them. “Okay,” she said. “I suppose that makes sense. I’ll ask the marshal out to lunch. Get her out of the office for a while.”

  Which brought us to the present moment, in my car, racing toward the marina as fast as traffic laws would allow us. There was a storm brewing overhead, its first couple of raindrops splashing down against the windshield. The clouds were dark and broody, each whorl well defined against the gray skyscape, lit from within as the first lightning shard bit the air. It was a fitting backdrop for our mission.

  There was one final light before we turned onto the marina’s drive, but it turned red just as I reached it, and I cursed, banging my fist against the steering wheel. We were wasting precious time. Barrett had a nearby officer keeping watch over the vehicle and the man who’d climbed out of it (the officer hadn’t seen his face, so we didn’t know if it was Ward), and the officer would call us if anything moved, but we couldn’t risk whoever it was slipping away. Speed was of the essence.

  “What’s our game plan?” Lex asked, her eyes locked on the red light.

  “Find him, make sure he doesn’t get away, question him,” I replied.

  “Simple, concise. Can’t go wrong,” Lex said and cracked a small smile, trying to make a joke to lighten the mood in the car.

  I winked at her. Just as I liked my plans. It never hurt to leave a little room for improvisation.

  The light turned green, and I hit the grass, cutting off a pedestrian about to step into the crosswalk as I made a sharp right turn. The Seabrook Harbor and Marina was on one of the tributaries that wound through the city, connecting the various surrounding bodies of water. The marina wasn’t far downstream from Lake Pontchartrain, and it was one of the smaller marinas in the city, so I hoped it wouldn’t be too hard to find the owner of the gray Subaru hatchback.

  A winding drive took us away from the main street down to the water. There was a dry dock, along with a round building that was the marina’s main reception area, and then there was a long stretch of short docks sticking out from the shore with two to three boats apiece. The water was a little choppier here, especially with the storm, since the wind funneled off the lake right down the river.

  I didn’t have an umbrella in the car, so Lex and I had no choice but to step out into the rain unprotected as the water lashed down onto our heads, thrown into our faces by the relentless wind. The sky was dark, as if night time had come early, and there was frantic movement all around the harbor as sailors and dock workers struggled to make sure everything was properly stowed away. The storm had arrived much faster than anyone expected.

  I shielded my eyes with one hand as I cast my gaze around, searching for either the gray Subaru hatchback or the officer who was supposed to be watching it. I spotted the unmarked police vehicle in the lot and pointed it out to Lex. The officer would best be able to tell us what the situation was. The Subaru itself was closer to the docks, empty and dark.

  “There!” I shouted.

  Just before we took off toward the car, a Jeep came trundling down the drive, its wipers working overtime against the aggressive rain. I squinted at it as water dripped down my neck and plastered my hair to my head. The car came to a halt just beside us, and then Linda Reyes and Meg Shoals jumped out, heedless of the rain. In seconds, they were soaked, but neither seemed to mind as they rushed over to us. I supposed that working for the Coast Guard, one got used to being wet.

  “What’s the situation?” Linda asked. She had to raise her voice slightly to be heard over the rain.

  I motioned for them to follow us as we started toward the unmarked police car. “Detective Barrett Called us to say that a gray Subaru hatchback was spotted here, which is the car that was seen driving away from the Harrison house the night Malia was kidnapped. We’re here to check it out.”

  “Just you two?” Linda asked, and I nodded, though I didn’t explain any further because I didn’t want to get into our web of lies.

  I rapped on the window of the police car, and the officer within jumped to climb out, opening a wide umbrella over his head.

  “We’re MBLIS,” I said. “Barrett called us. Tell us what you saw.”

  The officer swallowed and adjusted the position of his umbrella as the wind blew a sheet of rain right into his side. He would be wet sooner rather
than later, even with that thing, and I was surprised it hadn’t turned inside out and been torn right out of his hands.

  “Right,” he began. “I saw a car matching the description of the APB Detective Barrett put out, so I called it in and then followed it here. Detective Barrett told me to wait until either he or you guys arrived. A man got out of the car and headed for that dock.” The officer, whose name tag I couldn’t read in the dark, pointed toward a dock in the middle of the pack. “He seemed like he was in a pretty big hurry.”

  “Did you see which boat it was?” I asked, eyeing the dock as if I would be able to make out our suspect even through the rain and the wind and the dark. I could not.

  “I think the one at the end. I’m not totally sure, though. There were a lot of people moving around.”

  “Okay.” I nodded a couple of times as I ran a few ideas through my head. “You stay here and wait for Detective Barrett. Linda, Meg, would you mind backing us up on this?”

  “Just point us in a direction,” Linda said, giving me a firm nod.

  “Then let’s go.”

  I led the way toward the dock, one hand still raised to protect my eyes from the rain. The gravel of the parking lot was slick beneath my boots, and visibility was too low for comfort. The marina had mostly cleared out by now, everyone else escaping either to the comfort of their cars or the white lights of the reception building. Our little group walked quickly but didn’t run since I didn’t want anyone twisting an ankle before the fun began, nor did I want our speed to tip off whoever was on that boat. If he was still on the boat. He might have fled from the rain, but his car was still here, so he had to be nearby.

  I stepped up onto the wooden dock, which rocked beneath the heavy hands of the wind and the waves. The water sloshed beneath our boots, occasionally rising high enough to splash against the slats. Lightning cut the sky overhead, and I began to count the seconds between it and the next rumble of thunder. I needn’t have bothered. The thunder came mere seconds after its counterpart. The storm was right on top of us.