Dead Rise: An Alex Penfield Novel

by Robert W. Stephens

  Penfield hopped onto the back of the boat and handed the waterman his binoculars. The waterman walked back to the controls and started the engines. Penfield helped him cast off the lines, and they were backing out of the slip within no time.

  It took several minutes to get to the boat they thought might be The Sally. The waves were much higher than Penfield thought possible in the bay, and the waterman’s boat surged up and down as it struggled across the choppy surface. Penfield grabbed the binoculars a second time and aimed them toward the deadrise. He had to use his other hand to hold on tight to the side of the boat for fear of tumbling across the deck.

  The other boat had turned in the waves, and Penfield could now get a better look at the stern. It was still difficult to focus on the name as the boat heaved up and down in the waves. Finally, though, the name was revealed. It was The Sally.

  Penfield turned back to the waterman.

  “It’s her. How close can you get us?”

  “I’ll pull up as close as I can. Did you see anyone onboard?”

  “No one.”

  Penfield looked through the binoculars again. There was a narrow strip of land just beyond The Sally. He wasn’t sure where it led to, and he didn’t see anyone there, either.

  The waterman pulled his boat up beside The Sally. Penfield leaned over the edge and looked into the deadrise. He saw a body lying on the deck. There was blood around the man’s head and shoulders, and it swirled across the deck as the boat rose and fell in the waves.

  “What do you see?” the waterman yelled.

  “We’ve got one victim. I can’t tell who it is. Can you get us any closer?”

  The waves pulled the two boats farther apart, so the waterman made a wide turn to take another pass at The Sally. Penfield walked to the stern and grabbed the handrail to steady himself. The two boats got within a few feet of each other. Penfield judged the timing of the waves and leaped when his boat was at the crest of a wave. He landed with a thud on The Sally and tumbled across the deck. It was actually the body of the victim that stopped his forward momentum. Penfield instantly smelled the strong fumes of gasoline. He looked at the deck and saw a gruesome mixture of water, blood, and gas.

  Penfield was still on his knees, and he inched closer to the victim’s head.

  “Who is it?” he barely heard the waterman yell from the other boat.

  The waves had pulled the two boats apart again. Penfield leaned over the victim. His face had been smashed in on one side. The skull was fractured in several places, and his face was a jagged mess of torn flesh and bone. It was difficult to tell, but Penfield thought he could identify the victim from the other side of the face, which was completely undamaged.

  “I think it’s Buddy,” he yelled.

  Suddenly, he heard a strange noise in the distance. It sounded like a long swoosh, and then he saw a red flare against the gray sky. The flare flew over his head and landed in the water just beyond the waterman’s boat.

  Penfield stood and looked in the direction the flare had originated. He saw a man on the shore of the thin slip of land he’d seen just a second before. The man held his arm up and a second flare burst from the flare gun. Penfield saw the steam from the water as the flare landed just a few feet short of the deadrise.

  He turned back to the waterman. His boat was several feet from The Sally. There was no way Penfield could jump that distance. It would also take too long for the waterman to make another pass to get closer. Penfield ran to the side of boat and motioned for the waterman to leave.

  “Get out of here! This whole thing is going to blow!”

  The waterman gunned his engine, and the boat smashed into the high waves as it surged away. Penfield looked back to the shore and saw the man fire a third flare into the air. The Sally dipped low in the trough of a wave, and Penfield dove off the boat a second before the flare landed just a few feet from the dead body. It instantly ignited the gasoline on the deck, and a giant fire ball erupted.

  Penfield was under the water, but he still heard the muffled roar of the deck bursting into flames. He swam underwater as far as he could, but the icy water turned his arms and legs numb within seconds. He finally broke the surface of the bay and tried to suck in precious oxygen. A wave hit him instantly, though, and water rushed down his throat. Penfield coughed and tried to spit the water out, but he was hit with a second and third wave. They pushed him back toward the burning boat. Penfield could feel his skin start to blister from the intense heat of the flames.

  He tried to swim away from the fire, but his limbs were growing tired from the cold water, as well as his struggle just to breathe. He pushed his head out of the water and sucked in air again. The effort resulted in another coughing fit. He temporarily abandoned his effort to swim as he tried to get air into his lungs. The only thing that happened, though, was more gagging and coughing.

  The roaring fire on the boat’s deck eventually reached the gas tanks of The Sally, and a second explosion occurred. This one was even more powerful than the first, and the shockwave struck Penfield hard before he had a chance to dive under the surface again. His vision began to blur as he was tossed around by the relentless waves. His body was turned toward The Sally, and he saw it list to its starboard side. It looked like it would sink in no time, and Penfield was terrified it would take him with it.

  Penfield commanded his arms and legs to swim far away from the doomed vessel. Nothing happened, though. His body was already near hypothermia, and the concussion from the explosion had dulled his thoughts. He gasped for breath again, but his throat and stomach were filled with water from the waves that were still crashing over him. He thought he was beginning to sink below the surface, but he couldn’t be sure. The gray water seemed to blend in with the gray sky. The burning deadrise was one giant, hot blur of red and orange off to his side.

  Another wave hit him and pushed him underwater. It took all of his energy to get to the surface again. Penfield knew this was the end. There was no way he’d be able to make it to shore. Even if he did, the killer was there, too.

  Penfield thought he saw a white object pass by his head. He turned toward the object, but he couldn’t tell what it was. A wave pushed it closer to him, so he reached for it out of desperation. His brain could no longer tell what his body was doing or not doing. The last thing Penfield saw before he closed his eyes was The Sally dip below the surface and head for the bottom of the bay.

  ***

  Penfield opened his eyes. All he saw was darkness. He blinked his eyes several times, but nothing would appear. It was like he was in a room with no lights or windows. He took several deep breaths. The air was stale and moldy, but at least he could breathe. He was clearly out of the water, but he could feel that his clothes were still wet. His body began to shake from the cold.

  Penfield was on his back. When he tried to sit up, his body wouldn’t respond. He tried to wiggle his toes. He could feel them moving inside his wet shoes and socks. He told his fingers to move and his hand to clench itself into a fist. That also occurred, but he still couldn’t sit up or move his arms and legs. Someone had restrained him. The mysterious man on the shore must have fished him out of the water. He was now holding him prisoner.

  Penfield heard someone breathing beside him. Maybe it was the waterman. Maybe he’d been captured, too. Penfield turned his head and saw the boy from the woods lying beside him. The right side of the boy’s face was just a few inches from Penfield’s head. He could see that the boy’s face was deformed. The boy’s right eye was pointed downward, and the facial bones below the eye socket seemed to have vanished. All that was there was sagging flesh.

  The boy was looking forward and not at Penfield. He struggled to breathe.

  “Jimmy,” Penfield whispered.

  The boy turned his head toward him. The new angle of view seemed to make the boy’s face look even more gruesome. Penfield did his best not to look away in horror.

  “Is it you?” Penfield asked.

 
“Find me.”

  The boy’s voice sounded garbled as the words slipped past his deformed lips.

  “Find me,” he repeated.

  Penfield reached out for the boy, and this time he was able to move his arm. He touched the side of the boy’s face, and his skin turned to dust. Penfield watched as all of the boy’s skin on his face and neck evaporated before his eyes. The colors of his clothing started to fade, and the fabric aged rapidly until it was nothing more than tattered cloth. Soon all that remained was a skeleton with a deformed skull.

  Penfield tried to move away, but his body was paralyzed again. He screamed for help, but no one came.

  He opened his eyes again. He felt something covering his face. He reached up and yanked the unknown object away. The object appeared again a second later. Penfield saw a man’s face come into his line of vision.

  “You’re going to be okay,” the man said.

  “Where am I?”

  “You’re in an ambulance. We’re taking you to the hospital. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

  Penfield tried to respond, but his eyes grew heavy again, and he passed out a second time.

  He didn’t know how much time had gone by when the emergency room doctor finally came back to tell him the results of his tests. There was no clock in the room, and his cell phone was missing. It had been in his back pocket at the marina, but it had probably fallen out when he was on the boat or in the bay. Even if it hadn’t, it would have undoubtedly been destroyed by the brackish water when he went overboard.

  “The scans don’t show any traumatic brain injury. You’ve most likely suffered a concussion, though. Do you have someone who can drive you home?”

  Penfield tried to remember where his car was. Then he realized it was probably still at the marina. That little mental calculation caused waves of pain to rush through his head.

  “I can call a cab,” Penfield said.

  “We can do that for you if you like.”

  “Yeah, that would be good. Am I free to go?”

  “It will take a few minutes to get your discharge papers. Let me go ask someone to call a taxi for you,” the doctor said.

  “Thank you.”

  A nurse wheeled Penfield outside about thirty minutes later despite his repeated declarations that he was fine to walk. The air was cold, and his clothes still hadn’t dried fully. He saw Emma walking up the sidewalk as the nurse pushed his wheelchair over to the curb.

  “I was worried I’d miss you. How are you feeling?” Emma asked.

  “Like I got run over by a truck.”

  “How are you getting home?”

  “A cab. It’s about twenty minutes late already.”

  “Can you call them and cancel? I don’t mind taking you back.”

  “It’s out of your way,” Penfield said.

  “Nonsense, and it will give me time to fill you in on what’s happened.”

  Penfield turned to the nurse.

  “Do you mind calling the cab company back?”

  “Not at all. I hope you feel better. Good luck,” the nurse said.

  Penfield climbed out of the wheelchair and prayed the head rush he felt when he first got into it wouldn’t return. Fortunately, it didn’t. Penfield turned to Emma as the nurse walked back into the E.R.

  “How far away are you parked?”

  “Not far. Would you like me to pull the car up?”

  “No. I can make it.”

  Penfield and Emma walked toward the parking lot. He could tell she was moving slowly so he wouldn’t struggle to keep up.

  “I don’t even know how I made it out of the water.”

  “I spoke with that fisherman that took you out there. He said he threw you a life preserver, and you somehow managed to get an arm around it. He said he never would have been able to pull you to safety otherwise.”

  “Remind me to get his name so I can thank him.”

  “I have it if you’d like it.”

  “Please.”

  They arrived at Emma’s car, and she unlocked it with her remote. They climbed into the car and Emma started the engine. She backed out of the parking space and drove off the hospital campus.

  Penfield looked out the window and up at the sky. It was dark, but he could still make out the thick clouds above.

  “I don’t even know what time it is,” Penfield said.

  Emma took a quick glance at the clock on the dashboard.

  “It’s just before twelve. What were you doing at the marina by the way?”

  “I wanted to get a look at that boat again. It was gone when I arrived.”

  “What were you hoping to find?”

  “I’m not sure. Sometimes it helps my thought process if I’m there at the scene,” Penfield said.

  He left out the part that he was there to meet someone. He had no idea if Henry Atwater had ever arrived. Maybe Emma had seen him, and it was only a matter of time before she brought it up.

  “That fisherman said he thought you told him the victim was Buddy Butler. Is that correct?”

  “It was hard to tell because of the damage to his face. He’d been attacked the same way that Ben had. I think it was Buddy, though. Did you find a body in the water?”

  “We found nothing. Whatever was left of that boat sank to the bottom of Mobjack Bay. The Coast Guard searched a few hours for the body, but they haven’t recovered anything. I doubt they will. It was probably cremated in the fire.”

  “Was Buddy married?”

  Emma nodded.

  “I went over to his house after the Coast Guard suspended the search. She hasn’t seen him since this afternoon. She said he got a phone call and abruptly left the house. He wouldn’t tell her where he was going or who called him.”

  “I assume you’ll get his phone records.”

  “I’m guessing it will lead to another one of those burner phones Bobby bought at that Toano convenience store.”

  “Was there anything you learned from the wife?”

  “She said Buddy kept mentioning the name Jimmy, but she didn’t know who that was. The wife isn’t from around here, at least not originally.”

  “Did you ask her if Buddy talked about what he really saw on that boat the morning Bill Tatum was killed?”

  “She said he refused to talk about it. Apparently, it affected him a lot more than he let on at the marina when Ben and I questioned him. She said he hadn’t been the same since.”

  “I’m sure,” Penfield said.

  “There was something else that fisherman said. He told me that a person from the shore fired the flare that caused the boat to explode.”

  “He’d dosed the deck of the boat in gasoline. As soon as he fired the first flare, I knew what he was trying to do. I told the waterman to leave and then I jumped overboard.”

  “Did you get a look at the guy who fired the gun?”

  “Not a good look. He was too far away.”

  “It was a man, though?”

  “I think so, at least the general shape of his body looked like a man’s.”

  “What about his hair? Could you tell if it was long or short?”

  “Not really.”

  “Forensics found a long hair on the pillow beside Sally Tatum’s. Her hair is gray. This one was dark brown. Bill Tatum’s hair was also gray, so it had to be from the person who broke into her house.”

  “Charles Ray has long, brown hair,” Penfield pointed out.

  “I think Sally would have recognized her own son. She also said the intruder’s face was deformed like her son, Jimmy.”

  “I’ve thought about that. How difficult would it be for someone to make their face look like that?”

  “Maybe they could with a mask.”

  “It would explain the muffled voice. Someone would easily sound like that if they were talking through a mask. The only person who has really seen the killer’s face is Sally, and it happened right after she woke up in the dark.”

  “What about Bobby Tatum? He said he saw the
killer, too.”

  “Only we know he didn’t, at least not on that boat.”

  “Why Charles Ray then? Why would he want to scare his mother into thinking Jimmy had returned?”

  “Bobby hated his father. Maybe the other brother did, too. Maybe they hate both their parents,” Penfield said.

  “You left the Tatum house pretty quickly this morning.”

  “I didn’t want to get in your way.”

  Penfield knew it was a weak excuse, especially since she’d invited him out there in the first place. He hadn’t known how he could have explained the condition of his wet clothes. She’d have thought him a madman.

  “You were right about that coffin. Forensics went over it and found no evidence that a body was ever there.”

  “Did they find any prints on the coffin itself?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Did you ask Sally and Charles Ray about it?”

  “Charles Ray said Jimmy was buried in a wooden coffin, but he was just a child when it happened. He couldn’t remember any specific details about it.”

  “That couldn’t have been the original one, but why would someone dig up the old coffin to replace it with a new one? Why not just steal the body? What difference does it make if they left behind the trace evidence from Jimmy’s corpse?”

  “Maybe they wanted to rebury the original coffin somewhere else.”

  “I don’t know how they would have even gotten the original coffin out of the ground without it falling apart after two decades in the mud. Did you ask Sally why Jimmy was buried away from the rest of the family?”

  “I did. She said the first graveyard we saw was the resting place for several Tatums from a few generations back. The most recent burials are in a proper cemetery. It’s actually the same one where Ben’s wife was buried. She said they didn’t have the money for Jimmy’s funeral, so Bill made the coffin, and they had the burial back there. She either couldn’t or wouldn’t answer me when I asked why his body was so far from the others.”

  “Did she seem any calmer by the time you left?” Penfield asked.

  “Not really. She said she can’t stay in the house until we’ve caught the intruder. She’s going to stay with Charles Ray.”