by Michael Cole
An officer stumbled back from the dock. His eyes were watery, and his complexion was growing pale with each shallow breath. Sydney heard a gulping noise, and immediately the officer made a dash for the nearest grassy area. Putting his hands on his knees, he hunched down and vomited. The other ailing officer caught sight of his coworker losing his lunch, which triggered a reactionary reflex. He grabbed his stomach and joined his comrade.
Sydney ignored his hurling staff as he walked up to the dock. Standing at the front steps was Tim Marlow. He too, looked slightly pale, though he appeared to retain control of his gag reflexes. He stood there, staring down at the sandy ground by the foot of the dock, not even noticing the chief standing in front of him.
“Marlow…Tim!” Sydney snapped his fingers in front of the young officer’s face. Marlow flinched and blinked several times before regaining his focus.
“Ahh… Boss, errr… I mean, Chief,” he muttered.
“You alright, kid?” Sydney asked.
“Yeah…I think so,” Marlow said. “She’s back there…in the water.” He gestured toward the far end of the dock with his elbow. Sydney looked past him, seeing the paramedics knelt down trying to move the body. The chief approached them.
“Hold it,” he instructed, “don’t move the body yet.” The paramedics stopped and looked his way, puzzled. Sydney moved in between them and knelt down to look, while Marlow stayed back several steps. The body bobbed in the water, tangled in the lily pads. Her face was shrunken, with strands of hair stretched out in all directions. The skin was shriveled, and the loose bits of flesh rippled with the tiny swells of water.
Sydney took one deep breath and stood up. He looked at the corpse once more. He had seen more than his fair share of mangled bodies over time. As he observed the severed torso, his thoughts went to how she was torn in half.
Propeller, maybe, he thought. Though, where was the rest of her? He looked to Marlow.
“Do we have photographs of this?” he asked him. Marlow slowly nodded. Sydney scanned the area with his eyes, looking for anything else unusual. That’s when he saw Jimmie Stanton seated on the porch steps, staring down at the grass. His shirt was wrinkled and untucked. “Is that the homeowner?”
“This was his wife,” Marlow said. “He apparently just got back into town. He found her like this.” Sydney informed the paramedics to resume their duties and started walking back. He noticed the pile of clothes bunched up in the sand. Jeans, boots, and a T-shirt. Looking at Mr. Stanton, he knew these didn’t fit his unfortunate girth. Clearly, they weren’t his. Looking at the water, he saw the dress.
“Oh shit,” he said. His fears were worsened when he observed the open doorframe. He went over to Stanton. “You mind if I take a look in your house?” Stanton appeared as if in a trance, staring down at the ground. He gave a very small nod. Sydney investigated the interior, seeing the wreckage caused during Stanton’s outrage. He knew Stanton was in some sort of shock, but began to worry if it was simply from finding his wife…or something worse. Marlow followed him inside.
“Where’s the other guy?” Sydney said to himself. “I highly doubt he’s running around without his clothes on.”
“Maybe he brought a change,” Marlow said. “Took off when he knew the husband was here. There’s no visiting vehicle here.”
“You’re thinking,” Sydney said. He looked at the destruction within the living room. “I still don’t like it. A dead woman, and possibly a missing date…all right when the husband comes back into town.” They went back outside and walked up the driveway. “Make sure somebody gets a full statement from this guy,” he told Marlow. “You said he was out of town, I’m gonna want to verify that. Until we know for sure, this is a possible murder. And I also want any reports of any missing persons.” He turned around and watched the paramedics remove the body. “Crap. I’m gonna need a medical examiner.”
“That’s something I’m good for,” Meya’s voice called out. Sydney spun around as she approached. “Sorry, I guess I got too bored waiting. What happened?” Sydney sighed, reluctant to give her any information. But unfortunately, she was correct.
“We have a female floating in the water…at least half of her is,” he said.
“Jesus,” she said.
“Right now, I’m focusing on the husband,” Sydney said. “I think it’s a little strange that…” he paused and looked at Marlow. “Didn’t I give you instructions?”
“Oh…right,” he said before taking off. Sydney turned back toward Meya, only to see a glare. He’d seen it many times before.
“What?”
“This guy lost his wife, and you’re gonna treat him like a suspect?”
“Only until I’m convinced otherwise,” Sydney said. “There’s evidence she was likely seeing somebody. I’m worried hubby got home and caught them in the act.”
“You don’t think that’s a little extreme?” Meya asked.
“I’ve learned there’s no such thing as extreme,” Sydney said. The sound of more police sirens drew his attention to the road. Three Ford Explorers pulled up, black in color with blue stripes. Text within the stripes read Claire County Sheriff’s Department. “Oh, come on!” Sydney said, kicking up a bit of gravel. “Who invited these guys?”
The vehicles parked along the side of the road, and the deputies started coming toward the driveway. The man leading them was a tall individual with dark skin, a black cap covering his bald head, with a tattoo on his left forearm of an eagle, globe, and anchor.
“That’s Sheriff Logan?” Meya asked.
“Yes,” Sydney said through gritted teeth. “Ever since our department has formed, he’s had a stick up his ass. Of course, he can’t accept he’s the reason we’re even here. The guy doesn’t have the brains God gave an oyster.”
“Alright, guys,” Logan called out in a deep booming voice to his deputies, “I want someone checking for prints in the house, someone get photos of the body. I’ll get a statement from the homeowner.” He approached Sydney. “Hey, Chief. Have you set up road blocks yet?” Sydney went over a list of curse words in his mind he wanted to hurl at the sheriff.
“Road blocks for what?”
“Well, we might have a murder here,” Logan said, in a matter-of-fact tone. Sydney let a small scoff slip through.
“This body’s been in the water at least all night,” Sydney said. “Plus, we have a possible suspect here,” he pointed to Stanton, still on the porch steps. “By the way, we’re in the middle of getting a statement. And we have photos.” Of course, if you weren’t late as usual, you’d know all this. Logan continued directing his deputies, as if actively ignoring Sydney. Two deputies went to speak with the paramedics, while two more went to the house. They started snapping photographs of the scene and examining the damage.
“I need two more units to set up road blocks,” Logan spoke into his radio. Sydney turned away for a moment to hide his irritated expression. The sheriff was actively ignoring him, as if his findings weren’t sufficient. As usual, Logan was trying to show him up. “Do you have a coroner?” Logan asked him. Sydney waited a moment before answering. He didn’t, but he didn’t want to admit that to Logan, who would treat it like a sign that RPD isn’t a sufficient police force.
“I’ll be examining the body,” Meya cut in. She extended her hand. “Dr. Meya Nasr,” she introduced herself.
“Well…okay then,” Logan said, looking somewhat surprised. “Well, Chief, I’d like to know the details after the examination.” Without saying anything, Sydney started walking off. “Oh! How’s it going with that missing individual?” he called after Sydney, referring to the boat accident. Sydney knew it was a subtle taunt. Sydney didn’t say anything and just kept walking to the paramedics, who were talking to the deputies. The body, or what was left of it, was loaded into a large plastic bag and loaded onto a stretcher.
“Excuse me,” Sydney interrupted the deputies. He moved in close to the paramedic, speaking almost in a whisper. “Take the body
to Readfield Hospital.” He then approached Marlow, again speaking in a whisper. “I want someone to wait here with this guy until we check his story.” Marlow nodded. Meya overheard and gave Sydney a disapproving look. He ignored it and started walking to his Jeep. “You coming?” he said to her. She gave a mock salute and started coming along.
Yeah, don’t say thanks or anything, she thought.
CHAPTER
12
With his back pressed against the wall, Dr. Wilkow repeatedly glanced at his watch. 3:02. Any moment now, Dr. Nevers was due to leave for the day. Wilkow grew impatient as he waited. He peeked around the vending machines he stood behind, listening for the sound of the office door. Dr. Nevers was very strict on use of the laboratory specimens, even for college professors. The only way for Wilkow to get a good look at the scale would be to wait for Nevers to leave.
A closer look at the samples he obtained revealed the specimen to be composed of keratin, with a layer of cosmine beneath it. The sample of the inner surface revealed lamellar bone, reminiscent of fish scales. Everything pointed toward to evidence concerning his theory of a subspecies of freshwater fish. The answer was possibly stored in a glass container inside that lab.
He strategically leaned against the wall, biding his time. A student walked by, confusedly looking at the bizarre sight of the college professor hiding behind vending machines. Wilkow gave an awkward smile as he passed by. The student raised his eyebrows and left.
Finally, he heard the sound of a door opening. Initially, he was unsure whether it was Nevers’ office until he heard the sound of approaching footsteps from that direction. He heard the bell of the elevator and the mechanical opening of the doors. He took a very brief glance around the corner of the vending machine and saw Dr. Nevers entering the elevator, and then ducked back. After hearing the doors shut, Wilkow emerged from his hiding spot and went straight into the lab.
The lights were still on, although no techs were inside. He went to the storage and found the scale on the top shelf. Placing the glass container on a lab table, he removed the scale and set it on a sterile sheet. He quickly observed the shape and measured the size. It was roughly eleven inches in length and nine in width. The scale was solid, with the cell structure being highly concentrated. But it contained a feature that gave Wilkow conviction it was a fish scale: Growth rings.
Similar to the rings on a tree, scales show the history of the fish. Under normal circumstances, Wilkow would need a computer or microscope to examine the specimen. However, this one was large enough to only require a magnifying glass. Any normal fish would grow as many as twenty rings in a year. However, as fish are coldblooded and don’t grow as much during the winter, they form a thicker ring known as a year mark. In addition to age, they can help determine the size. Space between year marks are proportionate to the size of the fish.
Measuring year marks can help estimate the size and age of a fish. However, the process can underestimate the age of older fish, as they do not grow as much. This was the case with this extraordinary large scale in front of Wilkow. He counted as many as eight year marks, with approximately twenty rings between them.
“You’re one big son of a bitch,” Wilkow said out loud, as if speaking to the fish. He measured the space between the marks. “Damn…with this count, this guy’s gotta be…” he mumbled a few figures to himself, “…twenty-five friggin feet, roughly. Good God!” He examined the flesh, and determined the injury to the creature had to be very minimal. Wherever it was, it was alive and thriving.
Where is this thing? He looked around for any lab techs, hoping one of them would know. None were in the connecting lab and lecture rooms. Thinking one might be in the hallway, he went to the core entrance. He opened the door and immediately saw Dr. Nevers standing behind it. The angered expression was unmistakable, as Wilkow had seen it a hundred times before.
“What’s up, Doc?” Wilkow said.
“What are you doing?” Nevers asked.
“Oh, catching up on some lab prep for my next class,” Wilkow lied.
“You don’t have a next class,” Nevers said. He stepped into the core. Wilkow awkwardly scratched his head.
“Oh really…oh, right! Ha!” He played it off. “I was thinking of spring semester.” Nevers walked to a table and picked up the notepad he had forgotten. He saw the scale on the table.
“Oh, for crying out loud, Mike,” he said. “What are you doing with that?”
“Well…” Wilkow thought of what to say, “do you know what that is?”
“I’ve been busy,” Nevers said. “I was planning on…”
“It’s a fish scale,” Wilkow exclaimed excitedly. Dr. Nevers sighed, realizing Wilkow was back onto his theories again.
“No,” Nevers simply said. He went and placed the scale back in the water. “I’m not entertaining your theories.”
“No, that’s what it is!” Wilkow said. “It’s got growth rings, and its components are made up of keratin and cosmine, and…just look at the shape!” Dr. Nevers placed it back up on the shelf.
“I’m not gonna be held responsible for endorsing a lunatic’s theory about giant fish. Besides, where have they been and why has one suddenly shown up?” He meant it as a rhetorical question, but still regretted asking after he saw Wilkow’s expression light up.
“I’ve found evidence of underground lakes in the past,” he said.
“Water coming up from the ground is not evident of a lake,” Nevers said.
“And there have been fragments of skeletons found!” Wilkow said, ignoring the dean’s argument. “If a passageway was formed to one of the lakes around here, a fish could’ve gotten through. You saw the scale! It belongs to something huge! The measurements I took predict it might be as big as twenty-five feet! The scale is just like that of a bass. Doc, we might have a twenty-five foot, prehistoric carnivorous largemouth bass…a CARNOBASS!”
Every fiber in Nevers’ being wanted to tell Wilkow how insane he thought he was. He actually sounded like a mad scientist. But Nevers realized Wilkow would never drop the subject. But the scale was a bizarre anomaly, and didn’t fit any known lifeform in the area. Still, he wasn’t buying the thought that it belonged to a giant fish.
“Get this mess cleaned up,” he said to Wilkow. “You still have grades to turn in from last semester. Get to it, or you’re fired.” He turned and walked out, leaving Wilkow alone.
Wilkow had no doubt there wasn’t going to be any support for him to pursue any research. This meant he would have to do it himself. He marched out of the lab and took a seat in the faculty office. He switched on the computer, trying to look for any other clues to determine where the scale was located.
He remembered seeing Chief Sydney earlier in the day. Rodney Police Department was listed on his uniform. He knew of Ridgeway Lake.
A lake that size would definitely contain such a fish. He googled for any news reports concerning the town of Rodney. To his surprise, it didn’t take long to find any clues. The first article to pop up was one concerning a recent homicide in the lake.
Local woman found mutilated off the shore of
her lake home this morning. Police are currently
investigating the scene. Reports indicate that the
victim was found by her husband. Police are not
yet releasing any more details of the crime.
For the next hour, he continued searching for any more related events concerning the town and its lake. He read of a recent boating accident, in which police are unable to identify the cause.
“It seems there’s been a lot of activity,” he said to himself. As he scrolled down the list of articles, he found one that piqued his interest. Complaints of blasting of Corey Mine. The article expressed residential frustration concerning the daily tremors caused by the consistent use of explosives used at the mine. Wilkow’s jaw dropped open as a thought came to mind. He leaned back in his seat, feeling the adrenaline starting to pump away.
“If those q
uakes created a rift in the lakebed…perhaps it opened up a passageway…” he said to himself. He jumped up out of his seat. “If I can find it…” …everyone will finally believe my theory, his thoughts finished the statement. His mind continued to ponder the possibilities if he was proven right. He thought of the exploration attempts, the new discoveries, the simple fascination that there was a whole world beneath them.
Wilkow knew it would be up to him to find that newly formed passageway if it existed. He sat back down and began researching equipment he would need to explore the lake.
CHAPTER
13
“Yes, yes, I understand that,” Sydney said into his phone. He struggled to keep his voice down as he paced in the hallway. He listened to the angry chatter from the president of Campione Foods, who confirmed Jimmie Stanton’s alibi. With an exasperated sigh, he held the phone down by his leg, still able to hear the echoes from the president yelling about how he’s such a dick for even suspecting Stanton. Once the chatter subsided, Sydney returned the phone to his ear, just at the president ended his rant with “…you cops.” Sydney had no interest in knowing what came before that.
“Thank you, sir,” he said. “I appreciate your help. Have a good day.” He hung up the phone as another rant was starting. The only good thing from the conversation was that he now was able to rule out Jimmie Stanton as a murder suspect. However, the question still remained of where the other guy was. The next step was to find out exactly how Amanda Stanton died.
Sydney went into a small observation room, separated from the Autopsy Room by a wall of glass. He saw Meya and a nurse, both dressed in blue scrubs, in the middle of an examination of the body. He saw the victim laid out on an operating table, and an assortment of medical tools he couldn’t name. On a nearby table was an audio recorder, and Meya spoke of each step to make sure it was documented.