by Tracy Sharp
She continued, “Add to that the rising tourist industry here. People fishing off the beaches, docks, cleaning their fish in the water, and you’ve got chum.”
“Molly, what about the recent murders? The three girls who were chewed up by sharks. Did Chris send you crime scene photos of those?” I asked her.
Molly’s face grew somber. “Yes, he did. Someone has conditioned those particular sharks to expect food presented to them in this manner, being bound and hung into the water from a boat, my guess is, or maybe a dock. I’m certain whoever is doing this is also chumming the water to attract the sharks.”
“I thought sharks didn’t like humans as food,” I said.
“It’s true that Sharks aren’t a fan of human flesh. It’s not fatty enough. But if you confuse and attract them with chunks of seal and tuna, and then dangle a person who is mostly likely deliberately cut to bleed into the water, they’re going to come up biting,” Molly said. “A single exploratory bite from a shark can be fatal to a person. They can bleed out before ever getting to safety. Imagine if there are several bites, and that person is left there to die.”
The realization of exactly what we were dealing with was horrifying. “So those sharks are being hand fed by a human, too, in a way.”
“Yes,” Molly said. “They are. And the sense of entitlement the sharks have, being the top predator of the ocean, will only make it more dangerous to the people who use the beaches.”
Jackson ran a hand over his mouth and chin. “So, more people will die.”
“Yes,” Molly said grimly. “If they continue to be fed by humans, as they’ve come to expect to be, they’ll come to where the food is and they will feed themselves.”
***
“I like her. She’s cool,” Jackson said, climbing into the truck.
“Yeah. She is. It’s amazing how much more she could tell us than the actual shark expert consulting on the case.” I leaned back against the leather of the truck seat, resting my arms on the edge of the open passenger window.
“Yeah. Well, getting your hand chewed off by a shark will give you some healthy perspective real quick,” Jackson said.
“And not being an obsessive weirdo helps some, I suppose.”
Jackson tipped his head in agreement. “There’s that.”
I hit the button to close the window. The smell of deep fried food made my stomach turn. I doubted I’d ever feel hungry again after what we’d seen this morning. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually miss New York, Jax.”
“I could use some food,” Jackson said. “Want some food?”
I looked at him. “Seriously? After what he saw this morning?”
“Hey, I puked my stomach empty. Remember?”
“I do. I almost did the same thing.” I considered. “Maybe a yogurt or fresh fruit cup.”
“Or, you could put the fresh fruit into the yogurt. Put some granola on top.” He glanced at me. “That’s good shit, right there. I might do the same.”
Just like the one Logan made me yesterday. “Maybe.”
We decided to get breakfast at The Happy Crab, where the first victim, Shannon Cook’s, ex-boyfriend Corey Samuels worked.
A cute hostess led us to a table with an ocean view. As early as this morning, before the Matt Orso incident, I would’ve been thrilled. Now each time I looked at the rough surf, all I could see was the huge head of the Great White rise out of the water, its mouth a circle of serrated teeth, just before it clamped onto Matt’s middle.
I wished that somehow it could’ve ended differently for him. I wished we could’ve warned the surfers faster when we noticed the panicked seals. If only we could’ve made a difference.
I thanked the hostess and Jackson smiled at her, causing her face to flush.
“You should bottle what you’ve got, Jax. Men would pay hand over fist for it.”
He wagged his eyebrows, blew on his fingertips and made a quick swiping motion on his shirt. Then he chuckled. “It’s just a parlor trick, Kicks.”
“Oh yeah? How’s that?”
“It’s this thing called smiling. It’s flattering. Makes people feel good. People like being noticed.”
“Not me.”
“Well, you’re a weirdo.”
“It’s just a parlor trick. You scowl at people and you scare them into leaving you alone. Then they make a wide circle around you and don’t bother you.”
Jackson chuckled again and shook his head. “Right. That’s why you have guys following you around like lost puppies most days.”
“I don’t know. Must be inadvertent reverse psychology or something.”
The creepy Dru came walking over with menus.
I said, under my breath, “Speaking of scowling and scaring people.”
She placed one in front of each of us. Her strange eyes drilled into mine for a long moment. Then she glanced at Jackson. “It’s past eleven, so you can’t order breakfast.”
“Can I have a fruit cup, please?” I asked her, sweetly.
She shifted her weight to one hip. “That would be considered breakfast.”
I paused. Then said, “Are you telling me that the kitchen people can’t throw some fruit into a bowl for me?”
“Yeah. That’s what I’m telling you.”
“Yogurt?”
“Breakfast.” She gave me a smirk, still watching me.
Wow. This chick hates me. “Really.” I leaned back, smiling. “You know, Dru, I really like this place. I think I’ll spend more time here. In fact, I may just come here on my own, when I know Corey is working, because he seems like a nice guy. I think I might ask him to come over to the beach house and give me a few fishing pointers.”
Dru’s smirk fell away from her face.
“Good idea,” Jackson said. “I got the impression he likes you.”
“Oh, I know he does. I wonder how forthcoming he’d be if I asked him to meet me for a private talk. Just me and Corey alone, at my beach house. What do you think, Dru?”
She looked at me as if she wanted to jam a fork into my throat. Through gritted teeth, she said, “I’ll bring you a fruit cup.”
I’d reconsidered the fruit cup. I didn’t want to put anything in my mouth that she brought me. God knew what she’d do to the fruit before it landed on the plate. “No, thanks. I’m good.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“And I mean, really good.” I gave her my best sneer. “Unforgettable, actually.”
Her face was the color of a tomato. She reached down to take the menu and I noticed the fading purple bruises around her wrist.
“That’s quite a bruise, Dru. What happened?”
She gave me a dirty smile. “Sex games. Corey likes it rough.”
“How nice for you,” I said. I looked closer, and she took her time pulling the menu away so that I could get a good, long look.
“I’ll be damned,” I said. Then looked up at Jackson.
Jackson sat forward, “Can I see your arm?” He asked Dru.
She nodded, smiling proudly and reaching her arm toward Jackson. He gently took her wrist, turning it over slowly. “Those look just like the bruises around Shannon’s wrists.”
***
So we waited. Corey was scheduled to work at noon. We moved to an outside table, and ordered iced tea. We watched as tourists walked the long boardwalk snaking along the shore. People taking pictures, holding hands, running, biking. It was a gorgeous day, with temps in the mid-seventies and a warm wind sweeping off the ocean.
Corey came out, hair still wet. I wondered what kind of activities he’d gotten up to that he’d showered so late.
“Ms. Ryan. Mr. Quick.” His face was less than enthused as he placed a pitcher of iced tea with sliced lemons on our table.
“Thanks, Corey,” I said.
“Dru’s got her panties in a bunch about you,” he said, looking down at me. “It doesn’t usually take much, but you, she hates.”
“Aw, now that hurts my feeling.”
>
“Her one feeling,” Jackson added. “And it ain’t love.”
I continued, “What did I ever do to her?”
He shrugged, a little smile playing on his lips. “You’re hot. You look different than most of the girls here. Kind of wild and exotic. Like a rock star who just rolled out of bed after an all-night party.” He looked at Jackson for his opinion. “Am I right?”
Jackson gave a single nod. “You are.”
“I’ve heard myself described in similar terms before.” I gestured to the empty seat at the table. “Take a load off.”
He sat down. “I don’t have a lot of time. The lunch crowd has started swarming in.”
“We won’t take up much of your time. Look, Dru was thrilled to show off the bruises on her wrists.”
“Ah. Those,” Corey said.
“Yeah. Those. Shannon had bruises around her wrists that looked identical to those,” I said. “Any idea as to why?”
Corey was as cool as a cucumber. “Shannon and I had a last fling the night before she died. Dru was working. I ran into Shannon on the beach. Asked if we could talk. She came to my dad’s charter boat, where a lot of my antics take place. She’d been there before. The rest is history.”
“Charter boat? I thought he was a lobster, shrimp and crab fisherman.” I sipped iced tea.
“He does fishing charters too. Started the business last year after he had a stroke. If it does really well, he’ll probably stop fishing and just do the charters. It’s doing pretty well.” The word charter came out as chahatah.
Merry tourist boat by day, boat of bondage and rough sex games by night. How sweet. “Do you charge for your services, too?”
Corey’s smile widened. “Not yet. But you never can tell about these things.”
“Why didn’t you mention this the other night?” Jackson asked him.
“Because, I thought if I told you we’d taken the boat out and had some bondage fun, you’d suspect me of killing Shannon.”
He was right. I did suspect him. Lying was a good way to become a strong suspect. “So, you took Shannon on your dad’s charter boat and had rough sexual play, involving bondage.”
“Yeah. I knew he wouldn’t be using the boat for the rest of the night. He’d finished his last charter for the day. It was eight p.m. He’d docked it.”
“Does your dad know about these antics?” I asked him.
“Nah.” He shook his head. “No way.”
“You sure,” Jackson asked him. “Lots of times parents know what their kids are up to, but don’t let on that they do.”
“My dad would lose his shit if he knew what I did on that boat with girls.”
“With girls, huh?” I said. “How many girls we talking here? Like, revolving door number of girls, or just whomever you’re dating at the time?”
Corey cocked his head. “You seem awfully interested in my antics, Ms. Ryan. Would you like to board the good-time boat and see for yourself what it’s all about?”
Apparently Dru’s paranoia wasn’t completely unfounded. “Actually, I’d love to.”
Jackson almost choked on his iced tea, spitting some of it out and dissolving into a coughing fit.
“Easy there, buddy. I won’t hurt her.” Corey looked back at me, his aqua eyes penetrating mine. “Unless she wants me to.” H whispered, “then, maybe just a little.”
I held his gaze, unwilling to be the first to look away. Corey was all about control. “I’d love for you to demonstrate.”
“My shift ends at seven,” he said.
I leaned toward him. “Good. Where does your dad dock the good-time boat, Corey?”
“Pier 7.”
“We’ll meet you there.” I said, in my best breathy Marilyn Monroe voice.
He blinked. Looked at Jackson.
Jackson winked at him. “Can’t wait, Corey. I’m getting all excited just thinking about it.”
“Very funny,” Corey said. “Whatevs. So you want me to show you how it happens, but not actually show you how it happens, hands on.”
“Right. I want you to walk me through it. I’m interested in the rope you use. The knot you use. How long your girl of the minute is tied up, and how tightly. You know. Stuff like that.”
Corey leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest. “Why should I bother?”
“It might eliminate you as a suspect,” I said. Then decided to sweeten the pot. I needed to get on that boat. “And maybe you’ll get the added bonus of actually tying me up, to show me how it works.”
An obscene smile moved across his mouth. “Good enough for me.”
***
Corey’s father’s charter boat, the Sweet Ginny, was a sixty-five foot angler with a cabin. It was large, and looked to have plenty of room to accommodate Corey’s antics, as he called them.
Corey was waiting aboard. He stood, watching us approach and sipping on a long neck bottle of beer. “Come on aboard. You guys want a beer?”
Jackson and I both declined. Accepting a beverage from a suspect who knew we suspected him wouldn’t be prudent. We didn’t know exactly what Corey’s antics involved, but neither Jackson nor I would take a chance of being drugged and finding ourselves dangling from a boat waiting for the first shark bite.
No thanks.
“Okay, then. I’ll show you where everything happens.” Cory led us into the cabin, which was spacious and private, but looked like what a regular boat cabin would look like; giving no indication of the late night escapades it hosted. We followed him to a room near the stern of the boat.
“This is the games room. That’s what I call it,” Corey said.
It looked like a regular room, with a small desk and chair, a television, cabinets all around, and curtains running the circumference of the room. I pulled back one of the drapes. The windows afforded a nice view of the ocean. The other side would face the docks.
“Looks pretty normal,” I said. But beneath a normal veneer, dark things often lurked.
“This is what most people see.” He stretched his arms out, indicating the room. “The chosen few,” he said. “See this.” He lifted an area rug out of the way, which hid a compartment in the floor of about three feet wide, half a foot deep. He dug a small key from his shorts pocket and unlocked the small padlock on the door. Inside were a variety of sexual bondage toys and implements.
“Wow,” I said.
“You don’t see that every day,” Jackson said.
“The chosen few. Do they have to go through a series of tests?” I asked him. “Before they’re chosen? Do you have girls banging down your door to be tied up and whipped?”
“You’d be surprised,” he said, a little smirk on his lips. “It’s amazing how many girls look like they’re high on themselves, when it’s just an act. Deep down, they have all this self-loathing. They want this.”
“Oh, yeah?” I said. “So, you’re providing a service to these young women. You’re helping them by beating the shit out of them while they hang helpless.”
He locked eyes with me. “Yeah. Inside, they hate themselves. This,” he gestured to his bondage and torture sex toys. “Allows them to feel cleansed, through the pain. They don’t have to make any decisions. They don’t have to worry about a thing. I give them what they need.”
“I think it’s what you need,” I said. “And you’ve somehow brainwashed them into thinking it’s what they need.”
“Leah,” he said. “Shannon told me that the only time she felt free was when she was tied up here, with my hands around her throat as I gave it to her. She came so hard she screamed.”
“I bet she did scream,” I said.
“You don’t believe me?” He used the remote to click on the TV monitor. “I recorded all our sessions. She loved to watch them afterward. Look.”
Suddenly the image of a blindfolded young woman with her hands tied above her head, her legs spread apart and tied to hooks in the floor. Nothing fancy. Just twisted nylon anchor rope hung over a doorway pull-up bar. Co
rey was creative. He used the anchor rope wrapped around her ankles and slung over the bar, and a couple of hook and anchor systems to ensure ease in tightening or loosening the rope.
He was able to keep her legs spread widely, or pull them together. Shannon didn’t weigh much, maybe a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, but with this pulley system it wouldn’t matter. The rope did the heavy lifting.
I watched the screen with my mouth open, disgusted but also hypnotized. I’ve been in many dark and seedy corners in this line of work, but this gave me the creepy-crawlies.
Corey used his hand to smack her ass, as she begged for more, harder.
Any doubt I’d had about Shannon wanting to be tied up and punished vanished as I witnessed her face, flushed with sexual arousal. Her sighs and cries sealed the deal. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut as she shuddered and moaned.
“I’ve seen enough,” Jackson said.
I had, too.
“Now are you convinced that Shannon wanted to be bound and spanked? And I assure you, this was a tame video. There are others.”
Others that the police would need to see. Shannon may have enjoyed some kinky sex games, but instead of convincing me that the Corey hadn’t killed her, I was more convinced that he might have. He’d brought her to this room for fun and games many times before. How hard would it have been to take it too far?
“Would you like to see what it’s like first hand, Leah? You seemed pretty hypnotized by the video. Want to try?” He patted the pull up bar, still hooked to the door frame from whatever games he’d played with Dru, or someone else.
“I don’t think so.”
“Aw, now, you said you’d let me tie you up,” he said, a fake pout on his lower lip.
“I lied,” I said.
He looked disappointed, lips turned down. “Too bad. I shouldn’t have shown you the video. I almost had you.”
I walked up to him, my face inches from his. “You never almost had me. You make my skin crawl.”
His hands tightened on the pull-up bar and his face grew hard. The look of a spoiled, petulant child. “I can see it in you, Leah. You’ve got some self hate in you. I can smell it on you. You can’t lie to me.” He brought one hand down to touch my face and Jackson’s hand moved lightning fast and knocked it away before I could.